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diff --git a/old/55736-8.txt b/old/55736-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 6730c73..0000000 --- a/old/55736-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,57488 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Catholic World, Volume 7, by Various - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: The Catholic World, Volume 7 - -Author: Various - -Release Date: October 13, 2017 [EBook #55736] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CATHOLIC WORLD, VOLUME 7 *** - - - - -Produced by Don Kostuch - - - - - - [Transcriber's note: This text is derived from - http://www.archive.org/details/catholicworld07pauluoft] - - -{i} - - The Catholic World. - - A Monthly Magazine - - of - - General Literature and Science. - - ------------ - - Vol. VII. - - April To September, 1868. - - ------------ - - New York: - - The Catholic Publication Society, - - 126 Nassau Street. - - 1868. - -{ii} - - -John A. Gray & Green, - -Printers, - -16 and 18 Jacob St., New York. - -{iii} - - Contents. - - - A Heroine of Conjugal Love, 781. - A New Face on an Old Question, 577. - Anecdotical Memoirs of Emperor Nicholas I., 683. - A Sister's Story, 707. - Ancient Irish Church, 764. - Abyssinia and King Theodore, 265. - - Baltimore, Second Plenary Council of, 618. - Breton Legend of St. Christopher, 710. - Bretons, Faith and Poetry of, 567. - Bible and the Catholic Church, 657. - Bishop Doyle, 44. - Bound with Paul, 389. - - Catacombs, Children's Graves in, 401. - Campion, Edmund, 289. - Catholics in England, Condition and Prospects of, 487. - Catholic Church and the Bible, 657. - Catholic Sunday-School Union, 300. - Children's Graves in the Catacombs, 401. - Crisis, The Episcopalian, 37. - Christopher, St., Breton Legend of, 710. - Constantinople, Harem Life in, 407. - Conscience, Plea for Liberty of, 433. - Condition and Prospects of Catholics in England, 487. - Confessional, Episcopalian, 372. - Conscript, Story of a, 26. - Colony of the Insane, Gheel, 824. - Conjugal Love, Heroine of, 781. - Council of Baltimore, Second Plenary, 618. - Cowper, 347. - Country Church, a Plan for, 135. - Cousin, Victor, and the Church Review, 95. - Cross, The, 21. - Count Ladislas Zamoyski, 650. - Church, Ancient Irish, 764. - Church, Catholic, and the Bible, 657. - Church Review, and Victor Cousin, 95. - Churches, United, of England and Ireland, 200. - Church, Early Irish, 336. - - Draper, Professor, Books of, 155. - De Garaison, Notre Dame, 644. - Doyle, Bishop, 44. - Duties, Household, 700. - - Early Irish Church, 356. - England and Ireland, United Churches of, 200. - England, Catholics of, Condition and Prospects, 487. - Episcopalian Crisis, 37. - Episcopalian Confessional, 372. - Education, Popular, 228. - Edmund Campion, 289. - European Prison Discipline, 772. - Egypt, Harem Life in, 407. - - Face, New, on an Old Question, 577. - Faith and Science, 338, 464. - Flaminia, 795. - Faith and Poetry of the Bretons, 567. - Flight of Spiders, 414. - Florence Athern's Trial, 213. - - Garaison, Notre Dame de, 644. - Graves, Children's, in the Catacombs, 401. - Gathering, Roman, 191. - Glastonbury, Legend of, 517. - Gheel, Colony of the Insane, 824. - Girl, Italian, of our Day, 364, 343, 626. - Glimpses of Tuscany-- - The Duomo, 479; - The Boboli Gardens, 679. - Good Works, Merit of, 125. - - Harem Life in Egypt and Constantinople, 407. - Heroine of Conjugal Love, 781. - History, How told in the Year 3000, 130. - Holy Shepherdess of Pibrac, 753. - Holy Week in Jerusalem, 77. - How our History will be told in the Year 3000, 130. - - Insane, Colony of, at Gheel, 824. - Italian Girl of our Day, 364, 543, 626. - Irish Church, Early, 356. - Irish Church, Ancient, 764. - "Is it Honest?" 239. - Ireland, Protestant Church of, 200. - - Jerusalem, Holy Week in, 77. - John Sterling, 811. - John Tauler, 422. - - King Theodore of Abyssinia, 265. - Keeble, 347. - - La Fayette, Madame de, 781. - Legend of Glastonbury, 317. - Liberty of Conscience, Plea for, 433. - Life of St. Paula, sketches of, 380, 508, 670. - Life, Harem, in Egypt and Constantinople, 407. - Life's Charity, 839. - Last Gasp of the Anti-Catholic Faction, 850. - - Madame de La Fayette, 731. - Magas; or, Long Ago, 39, 256. - Miscellany, 139. - Merit of Good Works, 125. - Memoirs of Count Segur, 633. - Monks of the West, i. - - New Face on an Old Question, 577. - Newgate, 772. - Newman's Poems, 609. - Nellie Netterville, 82, 173, 307, 445, 589, 736. - New York City, Sanitary and Moral Condition of, 553, 712 - Nicholas, Emperor, Memoirs of, 683. - Notre Dame de Garaison, 644. - - O'Neil and O'Donnell in Exile, 11. - - Quietist Poetry, 347. - - Race, The Human, Unity of, 67. - Rights of Catholic Women, 846. - Roman Gathering, 191. - -{iv} - - St. Paula, Sketches of her Life, 380, 508, 670. - St. Christopher, Breton Legend of, 710. - Sayings of the Fathers of the Desert, 76, 227, 572. - Sanitary and Moral Condition of New York City, 553, 712. - Segur, Count, Memoirs of, 633. - Shepherdess of Pibrac, 753. - Sterling, John, 811. - Science and Faith, 338, 464. - Sketches of the Life of St. Paula, 380, 508, 670. - Sister Simplicia, 115. - Sister's Story, 707. - Spiders, Flight of, 414. - Story of a Conscript, 26. - Story, a Sister's, 707. - - Tauler, John, 422. - The Cross, 21. - The Church Review and Victor Cousin, 95. - The Episcopalian Crisis, 37. - The Rights of Catholic Women, 846. - The Second Plenary Council of Baltimore, 618. - The Story of a Conscript, 26. - Theodore, King of Abyssinia, 265. - Tennyson in his Catholic Aspects, 145. - - Unity of the Human Race, 67. - United Churches of England and Ireland, 200. - - Veneration of Saints and Holy Images, 721. - - Wordsworth, 347. - Women, Catholic, Rights of 846. - - Zamoyski, Count Ladislas, 650. - - ------- - - Poetry. - - - All-Souls' Day--1867, 236. - - Benediction, 444. - - Elegy of St. Prudentius, 761. - - Full of Grace, 129. - - Iona to Erin, 57. - - Love's Burden, 212. - - Morning at Spring Park, 174. - My Angel, 363. - - One Fold, 336. - - Poland, 154. - - St. Columba, 823. - Sonnet on "Le Récit d'une Soeur," 306. - St. Mary Magdalen, 476. - Sonnet, 617. - - Tears of Jesus, 113. - To the Count de Montalembert, 516. - - Wild Flowers, 566. - ------- - - New Publications. - - - Assemblée Générale des Catholiques en Belge, 431. - Appleton's Annual Cyclopaedia for 1867, 574. - Appleton's Short Trip to France, 717. - - Book of Moses, 142. - - Campbell's Works, 720. - Catholic Sunday-School Library, 431. - Catholic Crusoe, 719. - Chandler's New Fourth Reader, 575. - Chemical Change in the Eucharist, 285. - Count Lucanor, 140, - - De Costa's Lake George, 718. - Discussions in Theology, Skinner, 573. - - Elinor Johnson, 576. - - Folks and Fairies, 144. - - Great Day, 288. - Gillet's Democracy, 719. - - Hints on the Formation of Religious Opinions, 573. - Histoire de France, 719. - House Painting, 720. - - Infant Bridal, by Aubrey de Vere, 143. - Imitation of Christ, Spiritual Combat, etc., 575. - Irish Homes and Irish Hearts, 576. - - Life of St. Catharine of Sienna, 142. - Life in the West, 287. - - Memoirs and Letters of Jennie C. White--Del Bal, 858. - Moses, Book of, 142. - Mozart, 288. - Margaret, a Story of Prairie Life, 576. - - Newman's Parochial Sermons, 716. - Notes on the Rubrics of the Roman Missal, 574. - Northcote's Celebrated Sanctuaries of the Madonna, 574. - - Ozanam's Civilization, 430. - O'Kane's Notes on the Rubrics, 574, - O'Shea's Juvenile Library, 719. - On the Heights, 284. - - Palmer's Hints on the Formation of Religions Opinions, 573. - Prayer the Key of Salvation, 143. - Peter Claver, 142. - Problems of the Age, 715. - - Queen's Daughter, 720. - - Red Cross, 575. - Reforme en Italic, 143. - Rossignoli's Choice of a State of Life, 576. - Rhymes of the Poets, 718. - - St. Catharine of Sienna, Life of, 143. - St. Colomba, Apostle of Caledonia, 281. - Sanctuaries of the Madonna, 720. - - Tales from the Diary of a Sister, 288. - The Catholic Crusoe, 719. - The Queen's Daughter, 720. - The Vickers and Purcell Controversy, 856. - The Woman Blessed by all Generations, 860. - --------- - -{1} - - - THE CATHOLIC WORLD. - - Vol. VII., No. 37.--April, 1868. - --------- - - The Monks Of The West.[Footnote 1] - - By The Count De Montalembert. - - [Footnote 1: _The Monks of tie West, from St. Benedict to - St. Bernard._ By the Count de Montalembert, Member of the - French Academy. 5 vols. 8vo. For sale at the Catholic - Publication House, 126 Nassau Street, New York.] - -In the galaxy of illustrious men whom God has given to France in -this century, there is one whom history will place in the first -rank. We mean the author of the _Monks of the West_, the -Count de Montalembert. There has not been since the seventeenth -century till now such an assemblage of men of genius and lofty -character gathered round the standard of the church, combating -for her and leaving behind them works that will never die. -Attacked on all sides at once, the church has found magnanimous -soldiers to bear the brunt of the battle, and meet her enemies in -every quarter. Even though the victory has not yet been -completely won, with such defenders she cannot doubt of final -success and future triumph. How great are the names of -Montalembert, Lacordaire, Ravignan, Dupanloup, Ozanam, Augustin -Co-chin, the Prince de Broglie, de Falloux, Cauchy, and of so -many others! The natural sciences, history, political economy, -controversy, parliamentary debates, pulpit eloquence, have been -studied and honored by these men; superior in all those sciences -on account of the truth which they defend, and equal in talent to -their most renowned rivals. - -The figure of the Count de Montalembert stands conspicuous in -that group of giant intellects by the universality of his eminent -gifts. A historian full of erudition, an incomparable orator, and -a writer combining the classic purity of the seventeenth century -with the energy and fire of the nineteenth, an indefatigable -polemic, a man of the world, yet an orthodox churchman, but above -all a practical and fervent Christian; this great defender of -Catholic truth has merited immortal praise from his -contemporaries and from posterity. - -Among all the works of this energetic champion of the faith. The -_Monks of the West_ holds indisputably the first place. -{2} -It is the work of Montalembert's entire life. He has put into it -his Benedictine erudition, his passionate love for truth, the -charming and dramatic power of his style in the narration of -events, his inimitable talent for painting in words the portraits -of those famous characters whom he wishes to present to the eye -of the reader; and their traits remain ineffaceably stamped on -the mind. Especially does the soul of the true Christian breathe -on every page of the volumes. For more than forty years their -author bent piously over those austere forms of the Benedictine -monks of the early ages to ask them the secret of their lives, of -their virtues, of their influence on their country and their age. -He has studied them with that infallible instinct of faith which -had disclosed to him a hidden treasure in those old monastic -ruins, and in those dusty and unexplored monuments of their -contemporary literature; the treasure, namely, of the influence -of the church acting on the barbarians through the monks. This is -the leading idea of the whole work. It would be a mistake to -expect, under the title of _Monks of the West_, a history of -mere asceticism, or a species of continuation of the _Lives of -the Fathers of the Desert_. Writers no longer treat, as that -work does, the lives of the saints. Readers are not satisfied -with the simple account of the virtues practised or the number of -miracles performed by the canonized children of the church. -Modern men want to look into the depths of a saint's soul; to -know what kind of a human heart throbbed in his bosom, and how -far he participated in the thoughts and feelings of ordinary -human nature. The circumstances in which he lived and studied, -the opinions formed of him by his contemporaries, are weighed, -and the traces left by his sanctity or genius on the manners and -institutions of his country are closely considered. - -The history of _The Monks of the West_ is nothing else than -a history of civilization through monastic causes. The third, -fourth, and fifth volumes just published contain a complete, -profound, exact, and beautiful account of the conversion of Great -Britain to Catholicity. No work could be more interesting, not -only to Englishmen, but to all who speak the English tongue. -Hence, but a few months after the French edition of these bulky -volumes, an English translation of them was given to the public, -and is now well known and becoming justly wide-spread in the -United States. - -Irish and Anglo-Saxons, Americans by birth or by adoption, -Catholics and Protestants, there is not one of us who is not -interested in a work which tells us from whom, and how, we have -inherited our Christian faith. Even Germans will learn in the -perusal of these volumes their religious origin; for it was from -the British isles that the apostles of Germany went forth to -their labors. The English language is the most universally spoken -to-day; the sceptre of Britain rules an empire greater than that -of Alexander or of any of the Caesars. The latest statistics tell -us that there are one hundred and seventy-four millions of -British subjects or vassals. The two Indies, vast Australia, and -the islands of the Pacific Ocean belong mostly to the Anglo-Saxon -race, and feel its influence. But what are all those great -conquests compared to these once British colonies, now called -North America? Who can foresee the height to which may reach this -vigorous graft, cut from the old oak, invigorated by the virgin -soil of the new world, and which already spreads its shade over -immense latitudes, and which promises to be the largest and most -powerful country ever seen? -{3} -Is it not therefore useful and interesting to study the religious -origin of this extraordinary race? Is there an American in heart, -or by birth, who is not bound to know the history of those to -whom this privileged race owes its having received in so large a -measure the three fundamental bases of all grandeur and stability -in nations: the spirit of liberty, the family spirit, and the -spirit of religion? - -The history of the conversion of England by the monks answers all -these questions. It comprises the apostleship of the Irish, and -of the Roman and Anglo-Saxon elements during the sixth and -seventh centuries. The Irish or Celtic portion of the history -centres in St. Columba, whose majestic form towers above his age, -illustrated by his virtues and influenced by his genius. The -Roman element is represented by the monk Augustine, the first -apostle of the Anglo-Saxons. Lastly, this race itself enters on -the missionary career, and sends out as its first apostle a great -man and a great saint, the monk Wilfrid, whose moral beauty of -character rivals that of St. Columba. Shortly after these, as it -were following in their shadow, walks the admirable and gentle -Venerable Bede, the first English historian, the learned -encyclopedist, alike the honor and glory of his countrymen, and -of the learned of all nations. - -We cannot resist the pleasure of giving, though it be but very -incomplete and pale, a sketch of the great monk of Clonard, the -apostle of Caledonia, St. Columba.[Footnote 2] Sprung from the -noble race of O'Niall, which ruled Ireland during six centuries, -educated at Clonard, in one of those immense monasteries which -recalled the memory of the monastic cities of the Thebaid, he was -the chief founder, though hardly twenty-nine years old, of a -multitude of religious houses. More than thirty-seven in Ireland -claim him as their founder. He was a poet of great renown, and a -musician skilled in singing that national poetry of Erin, which -so intimately harmonizes with Catholic faith. He lived in -fraternal union with the other poets of his country, with those -famous bards, whom he was afterward to protect and save from -their enemies. Besides being a great traveller, like the most of -the Irish saints and monks whose memory has been preserved by -history, he had another passion for manuscripts. This passion had -results which decided his destiny. Having shut himself up at -night in a church, where he discovered the psalter of the Abbot -Finnian, Columba found means to make a clandestine copy of it. -Finnian complained of it as a theft. The case was brought to the -chief monarch of Ireland, who decided against Columba. The -copyist protested; anathematized the king, and raised against him -in revolt the north and west of Hibernia. Columba's party -conquered, and the recovered psalter, called the _Psalter of -Battles_, became the national relic of the clan O'Donnell. -This psalter still exists, to the great joy of the erudite -patriots of Ireland. - - [Footnote 2: The Catholic Publication Society will soon - publish _The Life of St. Columba_, as given in the third - volume of _The Monks of the West_.] - -Nevertheless, as Christian blood had flowed for a comparative -trifle, and through the fault of a monk, a synod was convened and -Columba was excommunicated. He succeeded in having the sentence -cancelled; but he was commanded to gain to God, by his preaching, -as many souls as he had destroyed Christians in the battle of -Cooldrewny. To this injunction his confessor added the hardest of -penances for a soul so passionately attached, as was that of -Columba, to his country and his friends. -{4} -The penitent was compelled to exile himself from Ireland for -ever. Columba submitted. Twelve of his disciples refused to leave -him, and embarking with them on one of those large osier, -hide-covered boats which the Celtic peoples were accustomed to -use in navigation, he landed on an island called Oronsay. He -ascended a hill near the shore, and looking toward the south, -perceived that he could still see the Irish coast. He reëmbarked -immediately, and sailed in quest of a more distant isle, from -which his native land should be no longer visible. He at last -touched the small desert island of Iona, and chose for his abode -this unknown rock, which he has made a partaker of his own -immortality. - -We should read in M. de Montalembert's work the eloquent -description of the Hebrides, and of that sandy and sterile shore -of Iona, rendered glorious by so many virtues. "'We were now -treading,' wrote Dr. Johnson, the great moralist of the -eighteenth century, 'that illustrious island which was once the -luminary of the Caledonian regions, whence savage clans and -roving barbarians derived the benefits of knowledge and the -blessings of religion. To abstract the mind from all local -emotion would be impossible if it were endeavored, and would be -foolish if it were possible.'[Footnote 3] And he recited with -enthusiasm those verses from Goldsmith's _Traveller_: - - 'Stern o'er each bosom reason holds her state, - With daring aims irregularly great. - Pride in their port, defiance in their eye, - I see the lords of human kind pass by; - Intent on high designs, a thoughtful band. - By forms unfashioned, fresh from nature's hand. - Fierce in their native hardiness of soul. - True to imagined right, above control, - While even the peasant boasts these rights to scan, - And learns to venerate himself as man.' [Footnote 4] - - [Footnote 3: _Journey to the Western Islands of - Scotland_. By Dr. Johnson,] - - [Footnote 4: _The Monks of the West_, vol. iv. book xi. - ch. 3.] - -Grace had accomplished its work. Arrived at Iona, Columba, one of -the most high-spirited and passionate of the Gaels of Hibernia, -became a most humble penitent, a pattern of mortification to the -monks, the most gentle of friends, and a most tender father. -Having no other cell than a log cabin for seventy-six years, he -slept in it on the bare ground, with a stone for his pillow. This -hut was his oratory and library, into which, after working all -day in the fields like the lowest of the brothers, he entered to -meditate on the Holy Scripture and multiply copies of the sacred -text. He is supposed to have transcribed with his own hand three -hundred copies of the gospels. Devoted to his expiatory mission, -he commenced by evangelizing the Dalriadian Scots, an Irish -colony formed between the Picts of the north and the Britons of -the south. This colony was on the western coast of Caledonia and -in the neighboring islands, at the north of the mouth of the -Clyde, in that tract of country afterward known by the name of -Argyle. But these colonists were his countrymen. Soon he was -called to lay hands on the head of their chief, thus inaugurating -not only a new royalty, but also a new rite, which afterward -became the most august solemnity in the life of Christian -nations. This consecration of the Scot Aidan as King, by Columba, -is the first authentic instance of the kind in the west. Later, -crossing the Grampian hills, at the foot of which the victorious -legions of Agricola stopped, and venturing in a frail skiff on -Loch-Ness and the river which flows from it, he confronted those -terrible Picts, the most depraved and ferocious of the -barbarians, disputing, through an interpreter, with the Druids, -thus attacked in their last retreat. -{5} -He returned often to these savages, so that he finished, before -his death, the conversion of the whole nation, dotting with -churches and sanctuaries their forests, defiles, inaccessible -mountains, their wild fens and their sparsely peopled isles. The -vestiges of fifty-three of those churches are still traceable in -modern Scotland, and even the most enlightened Protestant judges -of the Scottish bench attribute the very ancient division of -parishes in Scotland to the missionary monk of sacred Iona. - -He never forgot, in the midst of his labors, his beloved Ireland. -He had for her all the tender passion of the exile; a passion -which let itself out in his songs, full of a charming melancholy. -"Better to die in pure Ireland, than to live for ever here in -Albania." [Footnote 5] - - [Footnote 5: Vol. iii. book xi. ch. 2.] - -To this cry of despair succeed more plaintive notes breathing -resignation. In one of his elegies, he regrets not being able to -sail once more on the lakes and gulfs of his fatherland, nor to -listen to the song of the swans with his friend Comgall. He -mourns especially his having to leave Erin through his own fault, -on account of the blood shed in the battles which he had -provoked. He envies his friend Cormac, who can return to his dear -monastery of Durrow, to hearken there to the murmur of the winds -among the oaks, and drink in the song of the blackbird and the -cuckoo. As for him, Columba, everything in Ireland is dear to -him, _except the rulers that govern it!_ In another poem -still more characteristic, he exclaims: "Oh! what delight to -glide over the foam-crested waves of the sea, and see the -breakers roll on the sandy beaches of Ireland! Oh! how swiftly my -bark would bound over the waters, if its prow were turned toward -my grove of oaks in Ireland! But the noble sea must only bear me -for ever toward Albania, the gloomy land of the raven. My feet -repose in my skiff, but my sad heart ever bleeds. -... -From the deck of my boat I cast my eyes over the billows, and the -big tears stand in my moistened gray eyes, when I look toward -Erin; toward Erin, where the birds sing so melodiously, and where -the priests sing like the birds; where the young men are so -gentle, and the old so wise; the nobles so illustrious and -handsome, and the women so fair to wed. ... Young navigator, -carry with thee my woes, bear them to Comgall the immortal. Bear -with thee, noble youth, my prayer and my blessing: one half for -Ireland; that she may receive seven-fold blessings! and the other -half for Albania. Carry my benediction across the sea; carry it -toward the west. My heart is broken within my bosom; if sudden -death should befall me, it would be through my great love for the -Gaels." [Footnote 6] - - [Footnote 6: Vol. iii. book xi. ch. 2.] - -An opportunity was afforded him of seeing once more this beloved -land of which he sang with such ardent enthusiasm. He had to -accompany the king of the Dalriadians, whom he had just -consecrated, to meet the supreme monarch of Ireland and other -Irish princes and chiefs assembled in parliament at Drumkeath. -There was question of recognizing the independence of the new -Scottish royalty, hitherto the vassal and tributary of Erin. But -as the exile had made a vow never again in this life to behold -the men and women of Erin, he appeared in the national assembly -with his eyes blindfolded, and his monk's cowl drawn over the -bandage. Columba was listened to as an oracle in the parliament -of Drumkeath. He not only obtained the complete emancipation of -the Dalriadian colony, but he also saved the order of the bards, -whose proscription had been demanded by the king of Ireland. -{6} -They were for ever won over to Christianity by the holy monk, -and, transformed into minstrels, continued for the future to be -the most efficacious propagators of the spirit of patriotism, the -indomitable prophets of national independence, and the faithful -champions of catholic faith. - -Arrived at the term of his career, the servant of God spent -himself in vigils, fastings, and formidable macerations of the -flesh. He knew in advance and predicted with certainty the day -and the very hour when he should pass to a better life; and he -made all things ready for his departure. He went to take leave of -the monks who worked in the fields, in the only fertile portion -of the island of Iona, on the western coast. He wished to visit -and bless the granary of the community. He blessed the old white -horse which used to carry from the sheep-fold of the monastery -the milk which was consumed daily by the brothers. Having done -this, he was barely able to ascend an eminence from which the -whole island and monastery were visible, and from this elevated -position he extended his hands and pronounced on the sanctuary -which he had founded a prophetic benediction. "This little spot, -so low and so narrow, will be greatly honored, not only by the -kings and people of Scotland, but also by foreign chiefs and -barbarous nations; it will be even venerated by the saints of -other churches." He then descended to the monastery, entered his -cell, and applied himself to his work for the last time. He was -at that time busied in transcribing the psalter. At the -thirty-third psalm, and the verse, "_Inquirentes autem Dominum -non deficient omni bono,_" [Footnote 7] he ceased and said: -"Here I must finish; Baithan will write the rest." After this he -went to the church to assist at the vigils of Sunday; then -returning to his cell, he sat down on the cold stones which had -been his bed and pillow for over seventy years. There he -entrusted his solitary companion with a last message for the -community. This done, he never spoke more. But no sooner had the -midnight bell tolled for matins, than he ran faster than the -other monks to the church. His companion found him lying before -the altar, and raising his head, placed it on his knees. The -whole community soon arrived with lights. At the sight of their -father dying, all wept. The abbot opened his eyes once more, -looking around on all with a serene and joyous expression. Then, -assisted by his companion, Columba lifted as well as he could his -right hand, and silently blessed the whole choir of monks. His -hands fell powerless to his sides, and he breathed his last. - - [Footnote 7: "They that seek the Lord shall not be deprived - of any good." Ps. xxxiii. 11.] - -What a scene! Such were the life and death of this great man and -great saint. After having loved Ireland so much, he could repose -nowhere more appropriately than in her sacred soil. His body was -transported thither to the monastery of Down, and buried between -the mortal remains of St. Patrick and St. Bridget. Thus those -three names, for the future inseparable, became interwoven with -the history and traditions, and engraved in the worship and on -the memory, of the Irish people. - -Such were the men to whom Ireland owed not only her -indestructible faith, but also her intellectual and moral -civilization. -{7} -It is not sufficiently known that Ireland in the seventh century -was regarded by all Europe as the principal focus of science and -piety. - -There, more than anywhere else, every monastery was a school, and -every school a studio of calligraphy, where the artists were not -confined to copying the Holy Scriptures alone; but where even the -Greek and Latin authors were reproduced, sometimes in Celtic -characters, with gloss and commentary in Irish, like that copy of -Horace which contemporary erudition has discovered in the library -of Berne. Besides, in all those monasteries, exact annals of -passing events were recorded; and these annals still constitute -the chief source of Irish history. We recognize in them a vast -and continual development of serious literary and religious -studies, far superior to anything found in any other European -nation. Certain arts even, such as architecture, carving, -metallurgy applied to the objects of public worship, were -cultivated with success; not to speak of music, a knowledge of -which was a common accomplishment not exclusively possessed by -the learned, but also by the common people. The classic -languages, not only the Latin, but even in an especial manner the -Greek, were spoken, written, and studied with a sort of passion, -which shows the sway which intellectual preoccupations held over -those ardent Celtic minds. - -But whatever may have been the influence of Columba on the Picts -and Scots, neither he nor his successors could exercise any -direct or efficacious action on the Anglo-Saxons, who became -daily more redoubtable, and whose ferocious incursions menaced -not only the Caledonian clans, but also the Britons. Other -missionaries were therefore needed. Whence were they to come? -From that ever-burning centre of faith and charity from which the -light of Christianity had already been brought to the Irish by -Patrick; to the Bretons and Scots by Palladius, Ninian, and -Germain--from Rome! - - "Who then were the Anglo-Saxons, upon whom so many efforts were - concentrated, and whose conquest is ranked, not without reason, - among the most fruitful and most happy that the church has ever - accomplished? Of all the Germanic tribes the most stubborn, - intrepid, and independent, this people seem to have - transplanted with themselves into the great island which owes - to them its name, the genius of the Germanic race, in order - that it might bear on this predestined soil its richest and - most abundant fruits. The Saxons brought with them a language, - a character, and institutions stamped with a strong and - invincible originality. Language, character, institutions, have - triumphed, in their essential features, over the vicissitudes - of time and fortune--have outlived all ulterior conquests, as - well as all foreign influences, and, plunging their vigorous - roots into the primitive soil of Celtic Britain, still exist at - the indestructible foundation of the social edifice of England. - ... - Keeping intact and untamable their old Germanic - spirit, their old morals, their stern independence, - they gave from that moment to - the free and proud genius of their race a - vigorous upward impulse which nothing has - been able to bear down." [Footnote 8] - - [Footnote 8: Vol. iv. book xii. ch. 1.] - -Every one knows how and by whom those Anglo-Saxons were -evangelized and converted; every one knows the scene of Gregory, -afterward pope, with the young slaves in the Roman forum, and the -dialogue related by Bede from the traditions of his Northumbrian -ancestors. Every one knows that, at the sight of those young -slaves, struck by the beauty of their countenances, the dazzling -whiteness of their complexion, the length of their flaxen locks, -a probable sign of their aristocratic extraction, Gregory -inquired about their country and their religion. -{8} -The merchant, answered him that they came from the island of -Britain, where all had the same fresh color, and that they were -pagans. Then, heaving a deep sigh, "what evil luck," he -exclaimed, "that the prince of darkness should possess beings -with an aspect so radiant, and that the grace of these -countenances should reflect a soul void of inward grace! But what -nation are they of?" "They are Angles?" "They are well named, for -these Angles have the faces of angels; and they must become the -brethren of the angels in heaven. From what province have they -been brought?" "From Deïra," (one of the two kingdoms of -Northumbria.) "Still good," answered he. "_De ira -eruti_--they shall be snatched from the ire of God, and called -to the mercy of Christ. And how name they the king of their -country?" "Alle or AElla." "So be it; he is right well named, for -they shall soon sing the Alleluia in his kingdom." [Footnote 9] - - [Footnote 9: Vol. iii book xii. ch. 1, p. 347.] - -We will not follow the apostolate of the monk Augustine in his -pacific conquests, nor the touching solicitude of the Pope St. -Gregory for his dear favorites. Not because this history lacks -interest--we know none more attractive, or in which the glory of -the Roman Church shines forth more brilliantly--but it is better -known than that of the monk Columba, which has delayed us longer. -"We may simply remark that, unlike the churches of Italy, Gaul, -and Spain, in all of which the baptism of blood had either -preceded or accompanied the conversion of the inhabitants, in -England there were neither martyrs nor persecutors from the first -day of Augustine's preaching, during the entire existence of the -Anglo-Saxon Church. Placed in the presence of the pure, -resplendent light of Christianity, even before they understood or -accepted it, those fierce Saxons, so pitiless to their enemies, -displayed, in the presence of truth, a humanity and a docility -which we seek in vain among the learned and civilized citizens of -imperial Rome. Not a drop of blood spilled in the name of -religion stained the English ground. And this prodigy is -witnessed at a period when human gore flowed in torrents for any -or every pretext, no matter how trivial. What a contrast between -those times and later ages, when, in the very same island, so -many pyres were lighted, so many gibbets raised on which to -immolate the English who remained steadfast in the faith of -Gregory and Augustine!" - -The second volume of _The Monks of the West_ comprises a -thorough and varied account of the conversion of the -Anglo-Saxons, not only by the missionaries sent from Rome, but -also by those of England herself The great figure of St. Wilfrid -looms up in this epoch. As we cannot analyze his noble and holy -life, we will resume, at least, some of his traits, as drawn by -the pen of M. de Montalembert. - -"In Wilfrid began that great line of prelates, by turns apostolic -and political, eloquent and warlike, brave champions of Roman -unity and ecclesiastical independence, magnanimous -representatives of the rights of conscience, the liberties of the -soul, the spiritual powers of man, and the laws of God--a line to -which history presents no equal out of the Catholic Church of -England; a lineage of saints, heroes, confessors, and martyrs, -which produced St. Dunstan, St. Lanfranc, St. Anselm, St. Thomas -a Becket, Stephen Langton, St. Edmund, the exile of Pontigny, and -which ended in Reginald Pole." [Footnote 10] -. . . - - [Footnote 10: Vol. iv. ch. 4, p. 368.] - -{9} - -"In addition to all this, Wilfrid was the precursor of the great -prelates, the great monks, the princely abbots of the middle -ages, the heads and oracles of national councils, the ministers -and lieutenants, and often the equals and rivals of kings. When -duty called, no suffering alarmed, no privation deterred, and no -danger stopped his course. Four times in his life he made the -journey to Rome, then ten times more laborious and a hundred -times more dangerous than the voyage to Australia is now. But, -left to himself, he loved pomp, luxury, magnificence, and power. -He could be humble and mild when it was necessary; but it was -more congenial to him to confront kings, princes, nobles, -bishops, councils, and lay assemblies in harsh and inflexible -defence of his patrimony, his power, his authority, and his -cause." [Footnote 11] -... - - [Footnote 11: Ibidem, p. 369.] - -"His influence is explained by the rare qualities, which more -than redeemed all his faults. His was, before all else, a great -soul, manly and resolute, ardent and enthusiastic, full of -unconquerable energy, able to wait or to act, but incapable of -discouragement or fear, born to live upon those heights which -attract at once the thunderbolt and the eyes of the crowd. His -eloquence, superior to anything yet known in England, his keen -and penetrating intelligence, his eager zeal for literary studies -and public education, his knowledge and love of those wonders of -architecture which dazzled the Christian nation, and to which his -voice attracted such crowds, his constancy in trial, his ardent -love of justice--all contributed to make of him one of those -personages who sway and move the spirits of their contemporaries, -and who master the attention and imagination even of those whom -they cannot convince. Something generous, ardent, and magnanimous -in his nature commended him always to the sympathy of lofty -hearts; and when adverse fortune and triumphant violence and -ingratitude came in, to put upon his life the seal of adversity, -nobly and piously borne, the rising tide of emotion and sympathy -carried all before it, sweeping away all traces of those errors -of conduct which might have seemed to us less attractive or -comprehensible." [Footnote 12] - - [Footnote 12: Ibidem, pp. 371-2.] - -The fifth and last volume ends with an elaborate essay of great -interest on the Anglo-Saxon nunneries. It is certain that women -have taken an active part in the civilization of modern nations, -more particularly among the German tribes, whose purity of morals -astonished the old Romans of the empire. The Germanic races -considered woman as a person, not as a thing. No sooner was the -light of the gospel received among them than their women began to -distinguish themselves by the ardor of their faith and the -generosity of their devotion. If monasteries cover the land, -convents of women rival them in number, regularity, and religious -fervor. It was the kings and nobles of the Heptarchy who first -set the example of a cloistered life for men; it was also the -queens and princesses who founded the first convents and became -their earliest abbesses. Nothing is more interesting in the whole -book, and nowhere is the author more successful, than in his -portrayal of those primitive natures, still tinctured with -barbarism, passing through a complete transformation under the -law of light and charity; to see those nuns devote themselves to -as earnest a study of Greek and Latin as to that of the Holy -Scriptures; quote Virgil, compose verses during the intervals of -their religious duties and the singing of the office. -{10} -Another remarkable trait is their profound and obstinate -attachment to one or other of the parties who disputed the -possession of supreme power in those troubled times--an -attachment which is explained by the high rank of the abbesses -who governed those numerous communities. A single one of those -houses, the Abbey of Winbourne, contained five hundred nuns who -sang the office day and night. Nothing is better calculated to -give us a just appreciation of the manners of those times than -the faithful description of the interior life of those great -convents; the narration of their customs, of their lively faith, -their enthusiasm for science, of their works, their literary -correspondence, and of all the details of their existence. -Whatever may be the charm which the author has infused into the -rest of his book, that part of it, in our opinion, which excites -most the curiosity of the reader by the novelty of its incidents, -its charming legends, and which will be read with most avidity, -is the last chapter on the Anglo-Saxon nuns. - -May this rapid sketch inspire our readers with the desire of -becoming better acquainted with this great and magnificent work! -In all ages, remarkable books have been scarce, and, by a sad -infirmity of the human mind, they have not always been properly -appreciated during the lifetime of their authors. Almost all have -been obliged to await the judgment of time and posterity to -consecrate their glory. Let this not be the fate of _The Monks -of the West_. Let us read and study this book. We shall find -in it the history of the conversion of England in the sixth and -seventh centuries; one of the most powerful arguments in support -of the great thesis--_that the world has been civilized by the -Catholic Church_. This point is the high aim, the noble -thought, the idea and soul of Montalembert's master-piece. By it -he has rendered an immense service to the Catholic cause, and on -this account he deserves the undying gratitude of all Christians. - --------- - - O'Neill And O'Donnell In Exile. [Footnote 13] - - [Footnote 13: _The Fate and Fortunes of Hugh O'Neill, Earl - of Tyrone, and Rory O'Donnell, Earl of Tyrconnel: Their - Flight from Ireland; Their Vicissitudes Abroad, and their - Death in Exile._ By the Rev. C. Meehan, M.R.I.A. Dublin: - James Duffy. New York: Catholic Publication House. Pp. 383. - 1868.] - -The history of the Irish race presents certain features quite -exceptional, and without parallel either in the ancient or in the -modern world. For example, during these last two and a half -centuries that strange history has been dual or double--half of -it in Ireland and the other half in foreign lands. There were the -Irish in Ireland undergoing the emaciating process of -confiscations and plunder, writhing under their penal laws for -religion, with occasional gallant efforts at resistance, either -in support of a dynasty (the Stuarts) or by way of fierce -insurrection, as in 1798. And there were the Irish abroad in many -lands, refugees, exiles, emigrants, who were always plotting and -preparing a descent from France or from Spain to redeem their -countrymen from British oppression, or else giving their service -as military adventurers to any power at war with England, hoping -to deal their enemy somewhere, anywhere, a mortal blow. -{11} -But their thought was ever Ireland, _Ireland_. What country -on this earth has ever inspired its children with so deep, so -passionate, so enduring love? - -These side-scenes in the drama of Irish life have duly repeated -themselves from generation to generation, down to the present -day. We see one of them in the United States this moment. Always, -alongside of the transactions in the island itself--the -confiscations, and ejectments, and famines, and packed -juries--there is a parallel series of transactions outside among -the exiles, all bearing reference to the "fate and fortunes" of -the Irish at home; all moved and inspired by that insatiable -craving to liberate the land of their fathers, and make good -their own footing among the green hills where they were born. Of -this collateral or episodical history, Fr. Meehan has selected -one of the most striking and touching scenes, has thoroughly -investigated it in all its aspects, and in this volume presented -us with a very complete _monograph_ of the outside life of -O'Neill and O'Donnell, with their followers, from the moment when -those chiefs suddenly dropped out of the large space they had so -long filled in Ireland proper, and became a part of the external -Irish world. - -For this task, Fr. Meehan had unusual qualifications and -advantages. He had long lived in Rome, where the last years of -the illustrious chiefs were passed, and where, in the Church of -S. Pietro Montorio, their bones lie buried under a simple -inscription. More than thirty years ago, the sight of this -inscription (_D.O.M. Hic quiescunt Ugonis Principis O'Neill -ossa--_"Here rest the bones of Hugh the Prince O'Neill") -excited within his mind an ardent curiosity to explore the -mystery which has so long surrounded that sad flight of the -"earls," and their short, feverish life afterward. Since that day -the author never lost sight of his object. Though devoted to his -sacred duties, and occasionally occupied in illustrating some -other page of the history of his country, as in his excellent -narrative of the "Confederation of Kilkenny," (_see Library of -Ireland,_) yet he was always adding to his store of materials -for the illumination of this one dark passage in the fortunes of -those most illustrious of Irish exiles. At length we have the -result; and it leaves nothing to be desired. Yet we feel inclined -at the outset to reproach the learned author for entitling his -heroes Earl of Tyrone and Earl of Tyrconnel. Why has he done this -when O'Neill's own epitaph has no allusion to such a title, -which, indeed, was, in his eyes, a mark of disgrace and a badge -of servitude? He had, it is true, submitted to sink for a short -time formally from a high chief into an earl when he was in -England, and had an object to gain by pleasing and flattering -Queen Elizabeth; but in his own Ulster his name and title was The -O'Neill; "in comparison of which," says Camden, "the very title -of Caesar is contemptible in Ireland." [Footnote 14] - - [Footnote 14: Camden: Queen Elizabeth.] - -Moreover, it was not until his long and desperate resistance was -at length subdued, not till most of his warriors lay dead amidst -the smoking ruins of Ulster, and he had made his submission to -Mountjoy at Mellifont Abbey, that he consented to wear with shame -the coronet of an earl before his own clansmen and kinsmen. -{12} -It was a condition of the queen's "pardon" that he should so -abase himself. When he quitted Ireland, however, he flung down -his coronet and golden chain, and never called himself Earl of -Tyrone again. Fr. Meehan himself tells us (p. 161) while -describing the honors paid to the chiefs upon the continent: - - "Wherever there was an Irish seminary or conventual - establishment, alumni and superiors vied with each other in - congratulating the _illustrious princes_, for such was the - designation by which they were recognized in Belgium, Italy, - and all over the continent." - -But on this subject it may be remarked that the policy of the -British government in thus forcing the coronets of feudal -nobility upon the unwilling brows of Celtic chieftains, whether -in Scotland or in Ireland, has never yet been sufficiently -understood. It was an essential part of the invariable British -system of forcing its own form of social polity upon every part -of the three kingdoms, as each part fell successively under -English dominion. It was necessary, as Sir John Davies, -Attorney-General for Ireland under James the First, declares, to -abolish what he calls the "scambling possession" which Irish -chiefs and clansmen had in their lands, and compel them to hold -those lands by "English tenure;" in other words, that the chiefs -should become _landlords_ or proprietors of those districts -which had formed the tribe-lands of their clans, and that their -clansmen should become tenants subject to _rent_, which, in -the seventeenth century, had grown to be a commutation for all -feudal services. In short, the problem to be solved was to force -in the already corrupt and oppressive feudal polity (which had -long lost its true uses and significance) upon the free system of -clanship, the ancient and natural social arrangement of the Irish -and Scottish Gaël. Neither did that plan, of obliging chiefs to -become noblemen--and therefore both vassals and -landlords--originate with Elizabeth and James, nor with Sir John -Davies. King Henry the Eighth, a century earlier, offered to Con -O'Neill, the chief of that day, the dignity of earl, which Con -accepted as a delicate attention from a foreign monarch, but took -care to be a chief in Tyrone--no vassals, no tenants, no "English -tenure" _there_. The O'Brien of Thomond, however, upon that -earlier occasion, did lay down at King Henry's feet his dignity -of Chief _Dalcais_, and arose Earl of Thomond; his son was -made Baron of Inchiquin; and the MacGilla Phadruig consented to -become "Fitzpatrick" and Baron of Upper Ossory. For their -compliance, they were rewarded with the spoils of the suppressed -monasteries of their respective countries--places which their own -fathers had founded and endowed for pious uses. - -The process in Scotland was nearly analogous, after the accession -of James to the throne of England. The Mac Callum More (Campbell) -was created Duke of Argyll, and invited to consider himself -proprietor of all Argyllshire--by English tenure--and landlord -of all the Campbells. Mac Kenzie was dubbed Earl of Cromarty on -the same terms; and so with the rest: but at home those Highland -nobles were never regarded as anything but chiefs; and it was -only by very slow degrees, and not perfectly until after 1745, -that the old clan spirit and usages disappeared. Thus, in forcing -conformity with English land-laws, and gradually bringing the -soil of the two islands into immediate dependence upon the -English sovereign, every step in advance is marked by some chief -submitting to be made earl or baron, and reducing his free -kinsmen to serfdom. -{13} -Those peerages, accordingly, are monuments of subjugation and -badges of dishonor. Hugh O'Neill certainly did not value his -title, flung it from him with impatience, quitted earldom and -country to get rid of it, and protested against it on his -tombstone. For these reasons, many readers of Fr. Meehan's book -will wish that the author had given to his heroes the titles by -which they themselves desired to be remembered. - -Having thus vented our only censure, upon a matter rather -technical and formal, the more agreeable task remains, of making -our readers acquainted with all the merits and perfections of -this charming book. Fr. Meehan does not undertake to narrate the -earlier life and long and bloody wars against the best generals -of England, but takes up the story where the chief was -desperately maintaining himself, and still keeping his Red Hand -aloft in the woody fastness of Glanconkeine, on the side of -Slieve Gallen, and by the banks of Moyola water, awaiting the -return from Spain of his brother-chief, Hugh Roe O'Donnell, with -the promised succors from King Philip. But in those very same -days, that famous Hugh Roe had lain down to die in Spain, and -succor came none to the sorely pressed Prince of Ulster. His -great enemy, Elizabeth, too, was on her death-bed, almost ready -to breathe her last curse. But in her agonies she by no means -forgot O'Neill. Father Meehan says: - - "It is a curious and perhaps suggestive fact, that Queen - Elizabeth, while gasping on her cushions at Richmond, and - tortured by remembrances of her latest victim, Essex, often - directed her thoughts to that Ulster fastness, where her great - rebel, Tyrone, was still defying her, and disputing her title - to supremacy on Irish soil. But of this, however, there can be - no doubt; for in February, while she was gazing on the haggard - features of death, and vainly striving to penetrate the opaque - void of the future, she commanded Secretary Cecil to charge - Mountjoy to entrap Tyrone into a submission on diminished - title, such as Baron of Dungannon, and with lessened territory, - or, if possible, to have his head before engaging the royal - word. It was to accomplish any of these objects that Mountjoy - marched to the frontier of the north; but finding it impossible - to procure the assassination of 'the sacred person of O'Neill, - who had so many eyes of jealousy about him,' he wrote to Cecil, - from Drogheda, that nothing prevented Tyrone from making his - submission but mistrust of his personal safety, and guarantee - for maintenance commensurate to his princely rank. The granting - of these conditions, Mountjoy concluded, would bring about the - pacification of Ireland, and Tyrone, being converted into a - good subject, would rid her majesty of the apprehension of - another Spanish landing on the Irish shore. It is possible that - this proposed solution of the Irish difficulty may have reached - Richmond at a moment when Elizabeth was more intent on the - talisman sent her by the old Welsh woman, or the arcane virtues - of the card fastened to the seat of her chair, than on matters - of statecraft; but be that as it may, the lords of her privy - council empowered Mountjoy to treat with Tyrone, and bring - about his submission with the least possible delay." - -The author next carries us through the imposing scene of the -chief's submission and surrender at Mellifont Abbey, and gives a -vivid account of that illustrious religious house, and the lovely -vale of the Mattock in which it stands; of his gloomy resignation -to his hated earldom; of the organization of Ulster into shires -or counties, (never before heard of in those parts;) of the new -"earl's" journey to London, along with Rory O'Donnell, the other -"earl," and Lord Mountjoy, with a guard of horse: - - "Nor was this precaution unnecessary; for whenever the latter - was recognized, in city or hamlet, the populace, - notwithstanding their respect for Mountjoy, the hero of the - hour, could not be restrained from stoning Tyrone, and flinging - bitter insults at him. Indeed, throughout the whole journey, - the Welsh and English women were unsparing of their invectives - against the Irish chief. Nor are we to wonder at this; for - there was not one among them but could name some friend or - kinsman whose bones lay buried far away in some wild pass or - glen of Ulster, where the object of their maledictions was more - often victor than vanquished." - -{14} - -The new king, James the First, was very desirous to see O'Neill, -who had, after his victory at the Yellow Ford, sent an ambassador -to James at Holyrood, offering, if supplied with some money and -munitions, to march upon Dublin, and proclaim _him_ King of -Ireland; but the Scottish king had been too timid to close with -this offer. One may imagine with what mingled feelings O'Neill -once more revisited that London, and Greenwich Palace, where in -his younger days he had been a favored courtier, had talked on -affairs of state with Burleigh, and disported himself with Sir -Christopher Hatton, "the dancing chancellor." The author -describes his reception at court: - - "Nothing, indeed, could have been more gracious than the - reception which the king gave those distinguished Irishmen; and - so marked was the royal courtesy to both, that it stirred the - bile of Sir John Harington, who speaks of it thus: 'I have - lived to see that damnable rebel, Tyrone, brought to England - honored and well-liked. 'Oh! what is there that does not prove - the inconstancy of worldly matters? How I did labor after that - knave's destruction! I adventured perils by sea and land, was - near starving, eat horse-flesh in Munster, and all to quell - that man, who now smileth in peace at those who did hazard - their lives to destroy him. And now doth Tyrone dare us, old - commanders, with his presence and protection!'" - -Returning to Ireland, "restored in blood," O'Neill lived as he -best could, in his new and strange character of an earl, infested -by spies upon all his movements. "Notice is taken," says -Attorney-General Davies, "of every person that is able to do -either good or hurt. It is known not only how they live and what -they do, but it is foreseen what they purpose or intend to do; -insomuch, as Tyrone has been heard to complain that he had so -many eyes over him, that he could not drink a full carouse of -sack, but the state was advertised thereof a few hours -thereafter." [Footnote 15] - - [Footnote 15: Sir John Davies's Historical Tracts.] - -The author has taken great pains to ascertain the real nature of -those dark intrigues against O'Neill and O'Donnell, which -resulted four or five years after in the timely escape of those -two "earls" from the toils of their enemies--the only measure -that could save them from the fate of Sir William Wallace and of -Shane O'Neill. O'Neill found himself embroiled in endless -law-suits; with Montgomery, Bishop of Derry; with Usher, -Archbishop of Armagh, who each claimed a large slice of his -estates; with the traitor O'Cahan, his own former Uriaght, or -sub-chief, who entered into the conspiracy against him, seduced -by the promises of Montgomery and the Lord-Deputy Chichester. The -truth was, that the "undertaking" English of the north coveted -his wide domains, and could not comprehend how a rebellious -O'Neill could possibly be allowed to possess broad lands in fee, -which they wanted for themselves. Fr. Meehan has cast more light -upon these wicked machinations than any previous writer had the -means and authorities for; and it now appears plain that the -chief agent of these base plots was Christopher St. Laurence, the -twenty-second baron of Howth, and one of the ancestors of the -noble house of that title, now gloriously flourishing amongst the -Irish nobility. -{15} -Fr. Meehan's researches have brought home to this noble caitiff -the famous anonymous letter dropped in the Castle-Yard of Dublin, -and also a detailed deposition, shamelessly setting forth his own -long-continued espionage, and on the faith of conversations with -several persons, charging Tyrone, Lord Mountgarrett, Sir Theobald -Burke, and others, with a plot to bring in the Spaniards, and to -take by surprise the Castle of Dublin. O'Neill knew nothing, at -the time, of the conspiracy against him; but had a very shrewd -suspicion that the Lord-Deputy Chichester and the northern -Anglican bishops were resolved to have his blood, in order to get -his estate confiscated. One of the McGuires, who was himself in -danger from these machinations, escaped to the continent. The -author says: - - "Meanwhile, Cuconnaught Maguire, growing weary of his - impoverished condition, and longing to be rid of vexations he - could no longer bear, contrived, about the middle of May, 1607, - to make his escape from one of the northern ports to Ostend, - whence he lost no time in proceeding to Brussels, where Lord - Henry O'Neill was then quartered with his Irish regiment. The - latter presented him at the court of the archdukes, who - received him kindly, and evinced deep sympathy for their Irish - coreligionists, and especially the northern earls, with whose - wrongs they were thoroughly conversant, through Florence Conry, - fathers Cusack and Stanihurst. Father Conry, it would appear, - informed Maguire that King James would certainly arrest Tyrone, - if he went to London; and Maguire, on hearing this, despatched - a trusty messenger to the earls to put them on their guard, and - then set about providing means for carrying them off the Irish - shores. The influence of Lord Henry with the archdukes procured - him a donation of 7000 crowns, [Footnote 16] with which he - purchased, at Rouen, a vessel of fourscore tons, mounting - sixteen cast pieces of ordnance, manned by marines in disguise, - and freighted with a cargo of salt. From Rouen the vessel - proceeded to Dunkirk, under command of one John Bath, a - merchant of Drogheda, and lay there, waiting instructions from - Ireland." - - [Footnote 16: The archdukes were greatly indebted to O'Neill, - who gave ample employment to the queen's troops in Ireland - during the war in the Netherlands, and thus prevented the - English from aiding, as they wished, the revolted provinces.] - -This Bath, on his arrival in Ireland, at once sought both O'Neill -and O'Donnell, and informed them, on sure information procured by -Lord Henry O'Neill, Hugh's son, that they would both be certainly -arrested, and at the same time placed at their service McGuire's -ship, which he commanded. It needed great tact and coolness on -the part of O'Neill to conceal from the Lord-Deputy his intention -of departure. But at last-- - - "At midnight, on that ever-memorable 14th of September, 1607, - they spread all sail, and made for the open sea, intending, - however, to land on the island of Aran, off the coast of - Donegal, to provide themselves with more water and fuel. - - "Those who were now sailing away from their ancient patrimonies - were, Hugh, Earl of Tyrone, with his countess, Catharina, and - their three sons, Hugh, John, and Bernard. With them also went - Art Oge, 'young Arthur,' son of Cormac, Tyrone's brother; - Fadorcha, son of Con, the earl's nephew; Hugh Oge, son of - Brian, brother of Tyrone, and many more of their faithful - clansmen. Those accompanying Earl Rory were Cathbar, or Caffar, - his brother; Nuala, his sister, wife of the traitor, Nial - Garve; Hugh, the earl's son, wanting three weeks of being one - year old; Rosa, daughter of Sir John O'Doherty, sister of Sir - Cahir, and wife of Cathbar, with her son, Hugh, aged two years - and three months; the son of his brother, Donel Oge; Naghtan, - son of Calvagh, or Charles O'Donel, with many others of their - trusted friends and followers. 'A distinguished crew,' observe - the four masters, 'was this for one ship; for it is certain - that the sea never carried, and that the winds never wafted, - from the Irish shores, individuals more illustrious or noble in - genealogy, or more renowned for deeds of valor, prowess, and - high achievements.' Ah! with what tearful eyes and torn hearts - did they gaze on the fast receding shores, from which they were - forced to fly for the sake of all they held dearest! 'The - entire number of souls on board this small vessel,' says - O'Keenan, in his narrative, 'was ninety-nine, having little - sea-store, and being otherwise miserably accommodated.' It was, - indeed, the first great exodus of the Irish nobles and gentry, - to be followed, alas! by many another, caused, in great - measure, by a similar system of cruel and exceptional - legislation." - -{16} - -There is a most interesting account of their stormy voyage in -that small vessel; but after much hardship and danger, they made -the port of Havre, and went up the River Seine to the ancient -city of Rouen. The English ambassador at the court of Henry the -Fourth of France, had the assurance to demand of the French -government to arrest the refugees, but received a short answer: -"Writing to Lord Shrewsbury, October 12th, 1607, Salisbury -alludes to O'Neill's voyage thus: 'He was shrewdly tossed at sea, -and met contrary winds for Spain. The English ambassador wishing -Henry to stay them, had for his answer, _France is free_.'" -(P. 123.) - -From Normandy the party proceeded to Flanders, where they were -received by the archdukes with the highest distinction ever shown -to sovereign princes and their _suite_. At Brussels O'Neill -met his son, the Lord Henry, then commanding a regiment of Irish -for the archdukes, and also another young O'Neill, destined to do -great things in his generation, namely, Hugh's nephew, Owen Roe. -Our author thus introduces him: - - "Even at the risk of interrupting O'Keenan's narrative, we may - observe that none of these Irish exiles could have foreseen - that a little boy, with auburn ringlets, then in their company, - would one day win renown by defending that same city of Arras - against two of the ablest marshals of France. Nevertheless, - such was the case; for, thirty-three years afterward, Owen Roe - O'Neill, son of Art, and nephew to the Earl of Tyrone, with his - regiment of Irish, maintained the place against Chatillon and - Meillarie, till he had to make a most honorable capitulation." - [Footnote 17] - - [Footnote 17: August, 1640. See Hericourt's Sieges d'Arras.] - -And the same Owen Roe, still later, in the Irish wars of King -Charles's day, fought and won the bloody battle of Benburb -against the Scottish Presbyterian army, and trampled their blue -banner on the banks of that same Blackwater which had seen the -glorious victories of the Red Hand. From Brussels the fugitives -had an intention of proceeding to Spain, but were diverted from -that purpose by the archdukes, and they finally set out for Rome. -The narrative of their journey across the Alps is exceedingly -interesting; and on their arrival at Milan, they were welcomed -with high honors by the Spanish governor, the Conde de Fuentes, -and by the nobility of the province; but it need hardly be said -that, in all their movements, they were closely watched by -British spies; and every attention shown to them was the subject -of violent remonstrance on the part of English ambassadors. -Father Meehan gives us the letter of Lord Cornwallis, then -ambassador at Madrid, to the lords of the privy council, -expressing his loyal disgust at the splendid hospitalities of the -Governor of Milan: - - "'_To the lords of the privy council_. - - "'Having lately gathered, amongst the Irish here, that the - fugitive earls have been in Milan, and _there much - feasted_ by the Conde _de Fuentes_, I expostulated it - with the secretary of state, who answered that they had not yet - had any understanding of their being there; that the Conde de - Fuentes was not a man disposed to such largess as to entertain - strangers in any costly manner at his own charge; and that sure - he was he could not expect any allowance from hence where there - was intended no _receipt, countenance,_ or _comfort_ - to any of that condition. I sent sithence by Cottington, my - secretary, concerning one _Mack Ogg_, lately come hither, - as I have been advised, to solicit for these people; which was, - that as I hoped they would have no participation with the - principals, whose crimes had now been made so notorious in - their own countries, being both, upon public trial, condemned, - and he of _Tyrone_, as I heard, _of thirteen several - murders_; so I likewise assured myself that, in their own - wisdoms, they would not hold it fit his majesty here should - give harbor or ear to any of their ministers, and especially to - that of Mack Ogg, who could not be supposed but to have had a - hand in their traitorous purposes; _having been the man and - the means, in person,_ to withdraw them by sea out of their - own countries, in such undutiful and suspicious manner. That - myself was, in a matter of that nature, solicitous only in - regard of my own earnest desire that nothing might escape this - state whereby their intentions might be held different from - their professions. That for these fugitives, being now out of - their retreats, _weak in purse_, and _people condemned - and contemned_ by those of their own nation, and such as - could not but daily expect the heavy hand of God's justice for - their so many unnatural and detestable crimes, both of late and - heretofore committed, for _my own particular I made no more - account of them than of so many fleas_; neither did the - king, my master, otherwise esteem them than as men reprobated - both of God and the world, for their _fa??norous actions_ - toward others, and inexcusable ingratitude to himself." - - [Transcriber's Note: The word "fa??norous" is illegible.] - -{17} - -The author gives a minute and graphic narrative of the journey of -the "earls" through Italy, and their entrance into the Eternal -City, where they were affectionately received by Pope Paul V., -who assigned them a palace for their dwelling: - - "The time at which the Irish princes entered Rome was one of - more than usual festivity; for, on the Thursday preceding - Trinity Sunday, the pope solemnly canonized Sa Francesca - Romana, in the basilica of St. Peter in the Vatican. Rome was - then crowded by distinguished strangers from all parts of the - known world, each vieing with the other to secure fitting - places to witness the grand ceremonial. But of them all, none - were so honored as O'Neill, O'Donel, their ladies and - followers; for the pope gave orders that tribunes, especially - reserved for them, should be erected right under the dome. - This, indeed, was a signal mark of his Holiness's respect for - his guests, greater than which he could not exhibit. Among the - spectators were many English; and we can readily conceive how - much they were piqued at seeing O'Neill [Footnote 18] and the - earl thus honored by the supreme head of the church." - - [Footnote 18: Throughout his narrative, O'Keenan styles - O'Neill according to his Gaelic title, and calls O'Donel - _the earl_. O'Keenan was not sufficiently anglicized in - accent or otherwise to respect the law which forbade the - assumption of the old Irish designation peculiar to the - Prince of Tyrone.] - -And now began the long series of negotiations with the King of -Spain and the other Catholic powers, which were to enable the -"earls" to make a descent upon Ireland, reconquer their heritage, -and liberate their unfortunate people from the bondage and -oppression they were now enduring at the hands of King James's -"undertaking" planters. O'Neill had written a formal diplomatic -letter to King James, recounting the various plots and treasons -which had been practised against him by His Majesty's servants in -Ireland, demanding back his ancient inheritance, and announcing -that, in default of compliance, he would hold himself at liberty -to go back to Ireland, with a sufficient force to free his -country. This _ultimatum_ took no effect. The pope and the -King of Spain, though they treated him with high respect, and -awarded him a handsome pension, were slow to give the material -aid that was needed; and in the year 1608, his comrade Rory -(Rudraigh): O'Donnell, called Earl of Tyrconnell, died. Says -Father Meehan: - - "During his illness he was piously tended by Rosa, daughter of - O'Dogherty, his brother's wife, the Princess O'Neill, and - Florence Conry, who had performed the same kind offices for - Hugh Roe O'Donel in Simancas. On the 27th July, 1608, he - received the last sacraments, and on the morning following - surrendered his soul to God. 'Sorrowful it was,' say the - Donegal, annalists, 'to contemplate his early eclipse, for he - was a generous and hospitable lord, to whom the patrimony of - his ancestors seemed nothing for his feasting and spending.'" - -Soon after died O'Neill's son Hugh, whom the English called Baron -of Dungannon. O'Donnell's brother Caffar (Cathbar) died about the -same time, and the old chieftain was now left nearly alone to -carry on his almost hopeless negotiations. -{18} -The Irish exiles in Spain, when they heard of the death of the -two O'Donnells and young O'Neill, wore mourning publicly, to the -utter disgust of Lord Cornwallis, the English ambassador. He -remonstrated with the King of Spain against suffering so indecent -an exhibition, but received no satisfaction in that quarter; and -he wrote thereon, says Father Meehan: - - "'The agent of the Irish fugitives in this city has presumed to - walk its streets, followed by two pages, and four others of his - countrymen, in black weeds--a sign that they are no unwelcome - guests here.' This was bad enough; but the news he supplied in - another letter was still worse, for he says: 'The Spanish court - had become the staple of the fugitive ware, since it allows - Tyrone a pension of six hundred crowns a month; Tyrconnel's - brother's widow, one of two hundred crowns a month; and his - brother's wife, one of the same sum.'" - -If the British government could only have got hold of those -mourners in their "black weeds," within its own jurisdiction, -they would undoubtedly have been prosecuted and punished, like -the men who lately attended a funeral in Dublin. Nothing can be -more provoking to a government, sometimes, than public mourning -for its victims. Indeed, the Russian authorities in Warsaw have -been several times so exasperated by the sight of the citizens -all clothed in black, mourning for a crowd of innocent people, -cut down and ridden over by the cavalry in the streets, as to -feel compelled to issue instructions to the police to drag every -vestige of black apparel from every man, and every woman, and -child in the public thoroughfares, and to close up every shop or -store which should dare to keep any black fabric for sale. But in -cases where this kind of provocation is perpetrated in some -foreign country, and under the protection of its laws, then your -insulted government must only bear the affront as it best can. - -The author next proceeds, with the aid of letters in the State -Paper Office, to narrate the various projects and speculations of -O'Neill and his friends, with a view to the invasion of their -native country; with all which projects and speculations the -British government was made fully acquainted by means of its -spies and diplomatic agents. England and Spain were just then at -peace, and one main hope of the exiles was that a breach might -take place between them. Our author says: - - "Withal, it would appear that England had not then a very firm - reliance on the good faith of Spain. Indeed, Turnbull's - despatches show this to have been the case; and as for O'Neill, - there is every reason to suppose that he calculated on some - such lucky rupture, and that Philip would then have an - opportunity of retrieving the disaster of Kinsale, by sending a - flotilla to the coast of Ulster, where the native population - would rally to the standard of their attainted chieftain, and - drive the new settlers back to England or Scotland--anywhere - from off the face of his ancient patrimony. Yielding to these - apprehensions, James instructed his minister at the court of - the archdukes to redouble his vigilance, and make frequent - reports of the movements of the Irish troops in their - Highnesses' pay, and, above all, to certify to him the names of - the Irish officers on whom the court of Spain bestowed special - marks of its consideration. In fact, from the middle of 1614 - till the close of the following year, Turnbull's correspondence - is wholly devoted to these points, so much so, that the English - cabinet had not only intelligence of Tyrone's designs, but - ample information concerning all those who were suspected of - countenancing them. Nothing could surpass the minister's - susceptibility on this subject; for if we were to believe - himself, no Catholic functionary visited the court of Brussels - without impressing on their Highnesses the expediency, as well - as duty, of aiding the banished earl and his coreligionists in - Ireland." - -{19} - -At last, in January, 1615, O'Neill resolved to undertake the -enterprise himself, some Catholic noblemen in Italy and Belgium -engaging to furnish him with funds. He was to quit Rome by a -certain day; but, like all his other projects, this was speedily -communicated to Trumbull, who lost no time in making it known to -the English cabinet. He did not leave Rome as he intended; but -two months later: - - "The Belgian agent sent another dispatch to the king, informing - him 'that O'Neill hath sent from Rome two of his instruments - into Ireland, called Crone and Conor, with order to stir up - factions and seditions in that kingdom, where, in Waterford - alone, there are no less than thirty-six Jesuits.'" - -Next we find the same vigilant English minister apprising his -government that O'Neill was about "to have some of his countrymen -employed at sea in ships of war, _as pirates_, with -commission to take all vessels," etc. In truth, it was for -England a genuine "Fenian" alarm, this constantly menacing -attitude of the veteran warrior of the Blackwater; a "Fenian" -alarm, alas! of two hundred and fifty years ago. And how many -there have been since! There was also the same eager impatience -for action, the same maddening thought that the work must be done -at once or Ireland was lost for ever. A certain physician, who -attended O'Neill in this year, 1615, writes to a friend in -London, giving him, as a sample of his patient's conversation and -manner, the following anecdote: - - "Though a man would think that he is an old man by sight--no, - he is lusty and strong, and well able to travel; for a month - ago, at evening, when his frere [Footnote 19] and his gentlemen - were all with him, they were talking of England and Ireland, - and he drew out his sword. 'His majesty,' said he, 'thinks that - I am not strong. I would he that hates me most in England were - with me to see whether I am strong or no.' Those that were by - said, 'We would we were with forty thousand pounds of money in - Ireland, to see what we should do.' Whereon Tyrone remarked, - 'If I be not in Ireland within these two years, _I will never - desire more to look for it._'" - - [Footnote 19: F. Chamberlaine, O.S.F.] - -So thought Sarsfield when he fled with the "Wild-geese" almost a -century later--if they could not return with a reenforcement of -French within one year, within two years, there was an end of -Ireland. So thought Wolfe Tone, after still another century, as -he was gnawing his own heart in Paris at the fatal delay, and -crying, "Hell! hell! If _that_ expedition did not sail at -that moment, Ireland was subdued and lost for ever and ever." It -is natural that the eager spirits of each generation of Irishmen -should be in haste to see the great work done in their own day. -But divine Providence is in no haste, and will not be hurried. -Beyond all doubt, there is a destiny and a work in store for this -Irish race, so wonderfully preserved through sore trials, and in -spite of repeated persistent efforts to extirpate it utterly. It -has a strong hold upon life, and a potent individual character. -It will neither perish from the face of the earth nor forget a -single tradition or aspiration, nor part with its ancient -religious faith. It not only does not _attorn_ to the -dominant English sentiment and character, but seems, on the -contrary, to become more antagonistic, and to cherish that -antagonism. - -And it is very notable that this desperate mutual repulsion -between England and Ireland does not date from the "Reformation," -nor does it altogether depend upon religious differences. It is -true that the acceptance of the new religion by England and its -rejection by the Irish furnished the former with a new pretext -and a convenient machinery for oppression and plunder. But two -centuries before this, Hugh O'Neill's time--and when the English -were as Catholic as the Irish--we find his ancestor, Donal -O'Neill, in his famous letter to Pope John XXII., describing the -relations of the two races in language which is still appropriate -at this day: "All hope of peace between us is completely -destroyed; for such is their pride, such is their excessive lust -of dominion, such our ardent desire to shake off this -insupportable yoke, and recover the inheritance which they have -so unjustly usurped, that as there never was, so there never will -be, any sincere coalition between them and us; nor is it possible -there should in this life; for we entertain a certain natural -enmity against each other, flowing from mutual malignity, -descending by inheritance from father to son, and spreading from -generation to generation." - -{20} - -The aged Prince of Ulster never saw his native land again. In the -following year, 1616, he became blind and, some weeks after, -having received the last rites of the church, he died at the -Salviati palace at Rome. - -His history from first to last is a striking and remarkable one. -In the "religious" wars of the period, he was a conspicuous -figure; and Henry the Fourth of France called him the third -soldier of his age--he, Henry, being the first. But English -historians of the past and present century have made it a rule to -say nothing of him and of his great battles. They seem to desire -that the name of the Yellow Ford should be blotted out of -history. But once upon a time O'Neill occupied some attention in -England. Spenser and Bacon wrote anxious treatises to suggest the -best method of crushing him. Shakespeare delighted his audience -at the "Globe" theatre by triumphant anticipations of the return -of Lord Essex after destroying the abhorred O'Neill-- - - "Were now the general of our gracious empress (As, in good - time, he may) from Ireland coming, Bringing rebellion broached - on his sword. How many would the peaceful city quit. To welcome - him?" - -Camden, in his _Queen Elizabeth_, has given to the Irish war -at least its due rank in the events of the time; and Fynes -Moryson tells us that "the general voyce was of Tyrone amongst -the English after the defeat of Blackwater, as of Hannibal among -the Romans after the defeat of Cannae." Mr. Hume, though he tells -us nothing of O'Neill's splendid victories over the English, yet -incidentally mentions that "in the year 1599 the queen spent six -hundred thousand pounds in six months in the service of Ireland; -and Sir Robert Cecil affirmed that in ten years Ireland cost her -three million four hundred thousand pounds," which would be about -sixty millions of pounds sterling in money of the present day. So -well, however, has the memory of all this been suppressed, that -even an educated Englishman at this time, if you mentioned to him -the great battle of the Yellow Ford would not at all understand -to what event you were alluding; so that one is not at all -astonished to find that Mr. Motley, in his voluminous book -expressly devoted to the religious wars of Europe in those days, -and especially the reign of Elizabeth, not only ignores that -transaction altogether, but does not so much as know O'Neill's -name. When he does once undertake to name him, he calls him not -Hugh O'Neill, but "Shanes MacNeil." (_History of United -Netherlands_, vol. iv. p. 94.) - -{21} - -The Irish, however, still cherish his name and keep his memory -green. The peasantry yet tell that strange legend of a troop of -the great chiefs lancers all lying in tranced sleep in a cave -under the royal hill of Aileagh, each holding his horse's bridle -in his hand, and waiting for the spell to be removed that will -set them free to strike a blow for their country; and when a man -once penetrated into the cave, and saw the sleepers in their -ancient mail, one of them lifted his head and asked. _Is the -time come?_ To the educated and reflective Irish, also, that -cardinal epoch of Irish history, in which O'Neill was the chief -figure, has of late become a subject of more zealous study than -it ever was before; and these will heartily thank the -accomplished author of the present work for the clear light he -has thrown upon one strange and painful episode in his country's -annals. - - --------- - - The Cross. - - -In all ages, and among all nations, important events have been -commemorated and transmitted to future generations by significant -symbols. These mute symbols have served to represent the great -leading ideas and characteristics of nations, communities, -societies, and schools of religion, philosophy, morals, and -politics. Entire histories have been treasured up for ages in -these simple and inanimate emblems. In thousands of instances -they have served to call to mind the stirring events of a -generation, the glories of a great nation, epochs in human -progress, or the rise and fall of false religions, false -philosophies, and false systems of all descriptions. Each symbol -comprises a language and a history of its own, which can be -comprehended at a glance by the most ignorant of those whom it -addresses. As the ideas which they represent pertain, for the -most part, to affairs of the highest magnitude, they have always -been regarded with respect and veneration. - -When the legions of the Caesars were achieving the conquest of a -world, their emblem of nationality and glory, and their -inspiration in battle, was the Roman flag emblazoned with the -Roman eagles. In the midst of the fiercest contests, a simple -glance at the national symbol would fire the heart of the soldier -with patrotic ardor, and often turn the tide of battle in his -favor. As he looked upon his flag, the Roman soldier beheld the -greatness and glory of his country, with himself as a constituent -element of all this greatness, and his heart and hand were nerved -with Herculean strength to meet the foe. In the eagles which -floated amid the din of battle, he read the history of the -empire, with her conquests, her riches, her power, her grandeur, -and her Caesar; and he cheerfully gave his life for the ideas -thus evoked. - -The Saracen, as he marched out to battle, beheld the crescent of -his prophet, and was willing to die for his cause. As the -crescent waves before him, his imagination pictures the prophet -beckoning him on to battle, to conquest, to proselytism, and to -the sensual joys of paradise, and his courage rises, his blood -boils, and his cimeter leaps from its scabbard. No danger, no -fatigue, no privation daunts or deters him so long as he beholds -the emblem of his religion and his race. He loves and venerates -the silent symbol for the associations it calls to mind. - -{22} - -Napoleon I., with his battalions, traversed the continent of -Europe, dictating terms to kings and emperors; and finally -marshalled his victorious forces around the pyramids of Egypt. -During this triumphal march, his most potent auxiliaries were the -eagles of France draped in their tri-colored plumage. At the -bridge of Lodi, when the French hosts shrank back appalled from -the carnage caused by the terrific fire of the Austrian, Napoleon -raised aloft the emblem of France before the eyes of his -panic-stricken veterans. In an instant every heart was nerved, -and amidst storms of balls and the shrieks of the wounded and -dying, the bridge was carried and the day was won. The eagles of -the first Caesars seemed to have alighted upon the tri-colored -flags of the modern Caesar. Whether in the midst of the deadly -snows of Russia, or of the burning sands of Egypt, or of the -towering summits of the Alps, the great talisman which led the -way and gave inspiration to the soldier, was the national symbol. -It spoke to them of home, of kindred, friends, and of the glory -of France; and they were willing to risk all for the ideas thus -inspired. - -How often has the tide of battle been turned in favor of England, -both on land and sea, by raising the symbol of England, and the -war-cry of St. George and the Dragon, in the thickest of the -fight! How often, in the midst of battle and slaughter, has the -drooping spirit of the Celt been roused to fierce enthusiasm and -determination by a sight of his loved national emblem, the -shamrock! - -What true American can regard his own national symbol without -emotion, love, and veneration! Whether he beholds it unfurled -upon the battle-field, upon the ocean, or in a foreign land, he -reads in every star and every stripe a history of his native -land--of her struggles, her glories, and her future destiny. -Under its shadow the soldier is a braver man, the statesman a -better patriot, the citizen a truer loyalist, and the American -traveller in foreign lands more proud of his nationality. - -We might cite instances _ad infinitum_; but we have adduced -a sufficient number for illustration. What is the signification -and the utility of these symbols? At the birth of nations, it has -always been the custom to devise some common symbol around which -the people could rally as a type of nationality. On all important -occasions, both in peace and in war, this common emblem is always -in the midst of the people, to remind them of the past, to -inspire them in the present, and to render them hopeful in the -future. It is associated with all their public events, their -victories, their defeats, their joys, their sorrows, their -glories, their progress, their power and greatness. Is it, then, -strange that it should be regarded with love, respect, and -veneration? Is it strange that a sight of their mute talisman in -the midst of battle should stir the soul of the soldier to its -very depths, or that the heart of the patriot should swell with -emotion and stern resolve when the honor or welfare of his -country is in danger, or that the citizen should have a higher -appreciation of the dignity and destiny of man, or that the -individual should always associate it with his love of country, -his pride of the past, his aspirations of the present, his hopes -of the future, in a word, with his nationality? -{23} -The man who has no love of father-land in his soul, who does not -love and respect the emblem of his country's glory, is fit only -for stratagems, conspiracies, and bloody tumults and disorders. -Such a man can only be regarded as an enemy of his race; and will -be frowned upon by the wise, the good, and the humane. - -The emblems we have thus far alluded to refer to the worldly -affairs of men, to matters of state, of government, and national -prosperity. We now propose to refer briefly to the highest of all -symbols--the symbol of symbols--the emblem of emblems--to one -which relates to the temporal and eternal welfare of the entire -human race, the holy cross. What is its signification and -utility? What associations does it call to mind? It tells us of -the Incarnate God sent to earth to give mankind a new law, to set -them an example of a perfect life, to teach them those higher -virtues and graces which fit them for happiness here and -hereafter, and then to suffer and to die an ignominious death to -atone for the sins of man. It calls up all the dread -circumstances connected with the last days of our blessed Saviour -when on earth. It brings to mind his betrayal by Judas, his -arraignment before Pontius Pilate, his condemnation, his march to -the place of execution with the cross upon his blessed shoulders, -amidst the insults, the scoffs, the scourgings, the crowning with -thorns, and other indignities of a Jewish and pagan rabble. It -presents before us his ascent to the scaffold, his bloody -transfixion between two thieves, his dreadful agony, his bloody -sweat, his wounds, his slow and agonizing death. For whom, and -for what, has the omnipotent Redeemer suffered these ignominies, -these agonies, this cruel death? For all mankind, as an atonement -of their sins. With his almighty power he could have summoned -around him legions of destroying angels, who could have crushed -to powder his persecutors; or with his mighty breath he could -have consigned them to instant annihilation. But his love and -tenderness for man was infinite; and he mercifully refrained from -employing the power which he possessed to their injury. How vast -this condescension, this love, this devotion to mortals under -such provocations! - -Since the date of the crucifixion, the cross, with the image of -our blessed Lord attached thereto, has been universally -recognized as the chief symbol of Christianity. In the days of -the apostles and their immediate successors it was their -ever-present memento, friend, solace, badge, and emblem of faith. -Recent discoveries in the catacombs of Rome have brought to light -the rude altars of the first Christians, always stamped with and -designated by the sign of the cross. When these early Christians -were hunted down like wild beasts, and driven by the sanguinary -pagans into the most secret recesses of the earth to escape -martyrdom, the holy cross ever accompanied them, ever symbolized -their faith, ever served as a beacon of light, and a -rallying-point for the persecuted followers of Jesus of Nazareth. - -Whenever the missionaries of the church have abandoned country -and friends, taken their lives in their hands, and penetrated -into the remotest wilds of the savage, in order to "preach the -Gospel to every creature," the holy cross, with its divine -associations, has always led the way, beckoning them on in their -great life-work of love, mercy, and Christianity. -{24} -Often have these devoted men met the martyr's fate; but they have -died in holy triumph, with smiles and prayers on their lips, with -their eyes fixed on the sacred cross, and their souls on heaven. -If a nation's flag has been able to stir the soul of the soldier -to deeds of noble daring amid the excitement of battle, the cross -of Christ has been able, not less often, to fire the soul of the -lone missionary with holy love and zeal in the midst of the -savage wilderness. If, with flag in hand, the soldier has rushed -to the cannon's mouth, and laid down his life to win a battle, no -less frequently has the missionary, holding aloft the sacred -cross, rushed to the desert places of the earth, where barbarism, -pestilence, famine, cruelties, sufferings, and danger of -martyrdom encompass him on every side. The soldier fights his -battles under the eyes of his countrymen, cheered on by -applauding comrades, by martial music, and by hopes of speedy -preferment; but the Christian missionary fights alone, surrounded -by wild foes, far from home and friends, with no hope of temporal -reward, and where, if he is killed or dies a natural death, he -may be devoured by wild beasts, or remain uncoffined, unburied, -and unrecognized. - -Statesmen, philosophers, warriors, and citizens of all ranks love -and respect their national symbols because they call to mind the -events and circumstances connected with their nationalities. -These sentiments are commended by the whole world. The true -Christian also loves and respects the symbol which calls up -before him the facts and incidents connected with the passion and -crucifixion of the Saviour. Let no one delude himself with the -absurd idea that it is the _material_ of the flag, or of the -cross, which calls forth these powerful emotions, and these high -resolutions. Let no one suppose that _idolatry_ can spring -from the contemplation and reverence of objects which place -before the mind's eye in the form of symbols the important events -of a nation, or the sufferings and death of a God. Let no one -question the motives or the propriety of his fellow man who bows -down in tears, in love, in gratitude and devotion before the -recognized emblems and mementos of great nations, and of godlike -achievements. - -The cross of Christ! How vast and solemn the associations -connected with it! How significant its mute appeals to the hearts -of mortals! How eloquent its reference to a Redeemer's love for -sinful man! How glorious its history, and how prolific of -heavenly aspirations! - -The cross of Christ! How beautiful, how sublime, how -soul-inspiring the ideas which encompass thee as with a halo of -light and glory! In ages past and gone, in all the lands of -earth, as it has silently ministered to the souls and thoughts of -men, and carried them back to Calvary, what an infinity of -blessings it has conferred! As we gaze at the Lamb of God, nailed -to the cross, how sad and tender the memories which pass before -the mind! Every wound of the precious body, every expression of -the godlike features, calls up some act of divine love and mercy! -Silently, sadly, solemnly, the holy cross has borne its sacred -burden to all nations, through long ages of culture and light, of -darkness and ignorance, of civilization and barbarism--a pioneer -and potent agent in all good works--a talisman and solace for the -poor and oppressed, as well as for the rich and powerful, a -beacon of heavenly light, and a rallying-point for all -Christendom! - -{25} - -In the dark ages, when Christianity and barbarism struggled for -the mastery of Europe, the latter achieved a physical triumph; -but spiritually the cross of Christ prevailed, and the barbarian -conquerors became Christian converts. When nations, communities, -or individuals have been bowed down with calamities and sorrows, -rays of hope and comfort have always shone from the holy cross. -However poor, unfortunate, wicked, degraded, and despised an -individual may be, the cross of Christ still beams upon him with -compassion and mercy. - -Languages may be oral or printed, or pictorial or symbolical. By -the two first, ideas are conveyed _seriatim_ and slowly; by -the last _en masse_, and instantaneously. Through the first -the mind gradually grasps historical events; through the last -they are presented like a living tableaux, complete in all their -details. In the latter category stands the holy cross. It speaks -a language to the Christian which appeals instantly to every -faculty of his mind and soul. It strikes those chords of memory -which take him back to Calvary, to the jeering rabble of Pilate, -to the mocking minions of Caiphas, to the spectacle of a -scourged, tortured, and crucified Redeemer. - -Who can look upon this blessed emblem unmoved? Who can regard -this mute memento of the Son of God in behalf of fallen man -without sentiments of love, respect, and veneration? May God in -his mercy grant that every one may properly appreciate this great -emblem of Christianity--the symbol of symbols. The likeness of a -crucified Redeemer sanctifies and hallows it. Not only at the -name, but at the semblance of Jesus, let every knee bend in -adoration. - --------- - -{26} - - The Story of a Conscript. - - Translated From The French. - - - XIX. - -In the midst of such thoughts, day broke. Nothing was stirring -yet, and Zébédé said: - -"What a chance for us, if the enemy should fear to attack us!" - -The officers spoke of an armistice; but suddenly about nine -o'clock, our couriers came galloping in, crying that the enemy -was moving his whole line down upon us, and directly after we -heard cannon on our right, along the Elster. We were already -under arms, and set out across the fields toward the Partha to -return to Schoenfeld. The battle had begun. - -On the hills overlooking the river, two or three divisions, with -batteries in the intervals, and cannon at the flanks, awaited the -enemy's approach; beyond, over the points of their bayonets, we -could see the Prussians, the Swedes, and the Russians, advancing -on all sides in deep, never-ending masses. Shortly after, we took -our place in line, between two hills, and then we saw five or six -thousand Prussians crossing the river, and all together shouting, -"_Vaterland! Vaterland!_" This caused a tremendous tumult, -like that of clouds of rooks flying north. - -At the same instant the musketry opened from both sides of the -river. The valley through which the Partha flows was filled with -smoke; the Prussians were already upon us--we could see their -furious eyes and wild looks; they seemed like savage beasts -rushing down on us. Then but one shout of "_Vive -l'Empereur!_" smote the sky and we dashed forward. The shock -was terrible; thousands of bayonets crossed; we drove them back, -were ourselves driven back; muskets were clubbed; the opposing -ranks were confounded and mingled in one mass; the fallen were -trampled upon, while the thunder of artillery, the whistling of -bullets, and the thick white smoke enclosing all, made the valley -seem the pit of hell, peopled by contending demons. - -Despair urged us, and the wish to revenge our deaths before -yielding up our lives. The pride of boasting that they once -defeated Napoleon incited the Prussians; for they are the -proudest of men, and their victories at Gross-Beeren and Katzbach -had made them fools. But the river swept away them and their -pride! Three times they crossed and rushed at us. We were indeed -forced back by the shock of their numbers, and how they shouted -then! They seemed to wish to devour us. Their officers, waving -their swords in the air, cried, "_Vorwärtz! Vorwärtz!_" and -all advanced like a wall with the greatest courage--that we -cannot deny. Our cannon opened huge gaps in their lines, still -they pressed on; but at the top of the hill we charged again, and -drove them to the river. We would have massacred them to a man, -were it not for one of their batteries before Mockern, which -enfiladed us and forced us to give up the pursuit. - -{27} - -This lasted until two o'clock; half our officers were killed or -wounded; the Colonel, Lorain, was among the first, and the -Commandant, Gémeau, the latter; all along the river side were -heaps of dead, or wounded men crawling away from the struggle. -Some, furious, would rise to their knees to fire a last shot or -deliver a final bayonet-thrust. The river was almost choked with -dead, but no one thought of the bodies as they swept by in the -current. The lines contending in the fight reached from -Schoenfeld to Grossdorf. - -At length the Swedes and Prussians ceased their attacks, and -started farther up the river to turn our position, and masses of -Russians came to occupy the places they had left. - -The Russians formed in two columns, and descended to the valley, -with shouldered arms, in admirable order. Twice they assailed us -with the greatest bravery, but without uttering wild beasts' -cries, like the Prussians. Their calvary attempted to carry the -old bridge above Schoenfeld, and the cannonade increased. On all -sides, as far as sight could reach, we saw only the enemy massing -their forces, and when we had repulsed one of their columns, -another of fresh men took its place. The fight had ever to be -fought over again. - -Between two and three o'clock, we learned that the Swedes and the -Prussian cavalry had crossed the river above Grossdorf, and were -about to take us in the rear, a mode which pleased them much -better than fighting face to face. Marshal Ney immediately -changed front, throwing his right wing to the rear. Our division -still remained supported on Schoenfeld, but all the others -retired from the Partha, to stretch along the plain, and the -entire army formed but one line around Leipsic. - -The Russians, behind the road to Mockern, prepared for a third -attack toward three o'clock; our officers were making new -dispositions to receive them; when a sort of shudder ran from one -end of our lines to the other, and in a few moments all knew that -the sixteen thousand Saxons and the Wurtemberg calvary, in our -very centre, had passed over to the enemy, and that on their way -they had the infamy to turn the forty guns they carried with -them, on their old brothers-in-arms of Durutte's division. - -This treason, instead of discouraging us, so added to our fury, -that if we had been allowed, we would have crossed the river to -massacre them. They say that they were defending their country. -It is false! They had only to have left us on the Duben road; why -did they not go then! They might have done like the Bavarians and -quitted us before the battle; they might have remained -neutral--might have refused to serve; but they deserted us only -because fortune was against us. If they knew we were going to -win, they would have continued our very good friends, so that -they might have their share of the spoil or glory--as after Jena -and Friedland. This is what every one thought, and it is why -those Saxons are, and will ever remain, traitors; not only did -they abandon their friends in distress, but they murdered them, -to make a welcome with the enemy. God is just, and so great was -their new allies' scorn of them, that they divided half Saxony -between themselves after the battle. The French might well laugh -at Prussian, Austrian, and Russian gratitude. - -From the time of this desertion until evening, it was a war of -vengeance that we carried on; the allies might crush us by -numbers, but they should pay dearly for their victory! - -{28} - -At nightfall, while two thousand pieces of artillery were -thundering together, we were attacked for the seventh time in -Schoenfeld. The Russians on one side and the Prussians on the -other poured in upon us. We defended every house. In every lane -the walls crumbled beneath the bullets, and roofs fell in on -every side. There were now no shouts as at the beginning of the -battle; all were cool and pale with rage. The officers had -collected scattered muskets and cartridge-boxes, and now loaded -and fired like the men. We defended the gardens, too, and the -cemetery, where we had bivouacked, until there were more dead -above than beneath the soil. Every inch of earth cost a life. - -It was night when Marshal Ney brought up a reenforcement--whence -I knew not. It was what remained of Ricard's division and -Sonham's second. The _débris_ of our regiments united, and -hurled the Russians to the other side of the old bridge, which no -longer had a rail, that having been swept away by the shot. Six -twelve-pounders were posted on the bridge, and maintained a fire -for one hour longer. The remainder of the battalion, and of some -others in our rear, supported the guns; and I remember how their -flashes lit up the forms of men and horses, heaped beneath the -dark arches. The sight lasted only a moment, but it was a -horrible moment indeed. - -At half-past seven, masses of cavalry advanced on our left, and -we saw them whirling about two large squares, which slowly -retired. Then we received orders to retreat. Not more than two or -three thousand men remained at Schoenfeld with the six pieces of -artillery. We reached Kohlgarten without being pursued, and were -to bivouac around Rendnitz. Zébédé was yet living, and unwounded; -and, as we marched on, listening to the cannonade, which -continued, despite the darkness, along the Elster, he said -suddenly: - -"How is it that we are here, Joseph, when so many others that -stood by our side are dead? It seems as if we bore charmed lives, -and could not die." - -I made no reply. - -"Think you there was ever before such a battle?" he asked. "No, -it cannot be. It is impossible." - -It was indeed a battle of giants. From six in the morning until -seven in the evening we had held our own against three hundred -and sixty thousand men, without, at night, having lost an inch; -and, nevertheless, we were but a hundred and thirty thousand. God -keep me from speaking ill of the Germans. They were fighting for -the independence of their country. But they might do better than -celebrate the anniversary of the battle of Leipsic every year. -There is not much to boast of in fighting an enemy three to one. - -Approaching Rendnitz, we marched over heaps of dead. At every -step we encountered dismounted cannon, broken caissons, and trees -cut down by shot. There a division of the Young Guard and the -_grenadiers-à-cheval_, led by Napoleon himself, had repulsed -the Swedes who were advancing into the breach made by the -treachery of the Saxons. Two or three burning houses lit up the -scene. The _grenadiers-à-cheval_ were yet at Rendnitz, but -crowds of disbanded troops were passing up and down the street. -No rations had been distributed, and all were seeking something -to eat and drink. - -As we defiled by a large house, we saw behind the wall of a court -two _cantinières_, who were giving the soldiers drink from -their wagons. -{29} -There were there chasseurs, cuirassiers, lancers, hussars, -infantry of the line and of the guard, all mingled together, with -torn uniforms, broken shakos, and plumeless helmets, and all -seemingly famished. - -Two or three dragoons stood on the wall, near a pot of burning -pitch, their arms crossed on their long white cloaks, covered -from head to foot with blood. - -Zébédé, without speaking, pushed me with his elbow, and we -entered the court, while the others pursued their way. It took us -full a quarter of an hour to reach one of the wagons. I held up a -crown of six livres, and the _cantinières_, kneeling behind -her cask, handed me a great glass of brandy and a piece of white -bread, at the same time taking my money. I drank, and passed the -glass to Zébédé, who emptied it. We had as much difficulty in -getting out of the crowd as in entering. Hard, famished faces and -cavernous eyes were on all sides of us. No one moved willingly. -Each thought only of himself, and cared not for his neighbor. -They had escaped a thousand deaths to-day only to dare a thousand -more to-morrow. Well might they mutter, "Every one for himself, -and God £or all." - -As we went through the village street, Zébédé said, "You have -bread?" - -"Yes." - -I broke it in two, and gave him half. We began to eat, at the -same time hastening on, and had taken our places in the ranks -before any one noticed our absence. The firing yet continued at a -distance. At midnight we arrived at the long promenades which -border the Pleisse, and halted under the old leafless lindens, -and stacked arms. A long line of fires flickered in the fog as -far as Randstadt; and, when the flames burnt high, they threw a -glare on groups of Polish lancers, lines of horses, cannon, and -wagons, while, at intervals beyond, sentinels stood like statues -in the mist. A heavy, hollow sound arose from the city, and -mingled with the rolling of our trains over the bridge at -Lindenau. It was the beginning of the retreat. - - - XX. - -What occurred until daybreak I know not. Baggage, wounded, and -prisoners doubtless continued to crowd across the bridge. But -then a terrific shock woke us all. We started up, thinking the -enemy were on us, when two officers of hussars came galloping in -with the news that a powder-wagon had exploded by accident in the -grand avenue of Randstadt, at the river-side. The dark, red smoke -rolled to the sky, and slowly disappeared, while the old houses -continued to shake as if an earthquake were rolling by. - -Quiet was soon restored. Some lay down again to sleep; but it was -growing lighter every minute; and, glancing toward the river, I -saw our troops extending until lost in distance along the five -bridges of the Elster and Pleisse, which follow one after the -other, and make, so to speak, but one. Thousands of men must -defile over this bridge, and, of necessity, take time in doing -so. And the idea struck every one that it would have been much -better to have thrown several bridges across the two rivers; for -at any instant the enemy might attack us, and then retreat would -become difficult indeed. But the emperor had forgotten to give -the order, and no one dared do anything without orders. Not a -marshal of France would have dared to take it upon himself to say -that two bridges were better than one. To such a point had the -terrible discipline of Napoleon reduced those old captains! -{30} -They obeyed like machines, and disturbed themselves about -nothing. Such was their fear of displeasing their master. As I -gazed at the thousands of artillerymen and baggage-guards -swarming over the bridge, and saw the tall bear-skin shakos of -the Old Guard, immovable on the hill of Lindenau, on the other -side of the river--as I thought they were fairly on the way to -France, how I longed to be in their place! - -But I felt bitterly, indeed, when, about seven o'clock, three -wagons came to distribute provisions and ammunition among us, and -it became evident that we were to be the rear-guard. In spite of -my hunger, I felt like throwing my bread into the river. A few -moments after, two squadrons of Polish lancers appeared coming up -the bank, and behind them five or six generals, Poniatowski among -the number. He was a man of about fifty, tall, slight, and with a -melancholy expression. He passed without looking at us. General -Fournier, who now commanded our brigade, spurred from among his -staff, and cried: - -"By file left!" - -I never so felt my heart sink. I would have sold my life for two -farthings; but nevertheless, we had to move on, and turn our -backs to the bridge. - -We soon arrived at a place called Hinterthor--an old gate on the -road to Caunewitz. To the right and left stretched ancient -ramparts, and behind rows of houses. We were posted in covered -roads, near this gate, which the sappers had strongly barricaded. -A few worm-eaten palisades served us for intrenchments, and, on -all the roads before us, the enemy were advancing. This time they -wore white coats and flat caps, with a raised piece in front, on -which we could see the two-headed eagle of the _kreutzers_. -Old Pinto, who recognized them at once, cried: - -"Those fellows are the _Kaiserliks_! We have beaten them -fifty times since 1793; but if the father of Marie Louise had a -heart, they would be with us now instead of against us." - -For some moments a cannonade had been going on at the other side -of the city, where Blücher was attacking the faubourg of Halle. -Soon after, the firing stretched along to the right; it was -Bernadotte attacking the faubourg of Kohlgartenthor, and at the -same time the first shells of the Austrians fell among us. They -formed their columns of attack on the Caunewitz road, and poured -down on us from all sides. Nevertheless, we held our own until -about ten o'clock, and then were forced back to the old ramparts, -through the breaches of which the Kaiserliks pursued us under the -cross-fire of the fourteenth and twenty-ninth of the line. The -poor Austrians were not inspired with the fury of the Prussians, -but nevertheless, showed a true courage; for, in half an hour, -they had won the ramparts, and although, from all the neighboring -windows, we kept up a deadly fire, we could not force them back. -Six months before, it would have horrified me to think of men -being thus slaughtered, but now I was as insensible as any old -soldier, and the death of one man or of a hundred would not cost -me a thought. - -Until this time all had gone well, but how were we to get out of -the houses? The enemy held every avenue, and it seemed that we -would be caught like foxes in their holes, and I thought it not -unlikely that the Austrians, in revenge for the loss we had -inflicted upon them, might put us to the point of the bayonet. -{31} -Meditating thus, I ran back to a room, where a dozen of us yet -remained, and there I saw Sergeant Pinto leaning against the -wall, his arms hanging by his sides, and his face white as paper. -He had just received a bullet in the breast; but the old man's -warrior soul was still strong within him, as he cried: - -"Defend yourselves, conscripts! Defend yourselves! Show the -Kaiserliks that a French soldier is yet worth four of them! Ah! -the villains!" - -We heard the sound of blows on the door below thundering like -cannon-shots. We still kept up our fire, but hopelessly, when we -heard the clatter of hoofs without. The firing ceased, and we saw -through the smoke four squadrons of lancers dashing like a troop -of lions through the midst of the Austrians. All yielded before -them. The Kaiserliks fled, but the long, blue lancers, with their -red pennons, were swifter than they, and many a white coat was -pierced from behind. The lancers were Poles--the most terrible -warriors I have ever seen, and, to speak truth, our friends and -our brothers. _They_ never turned from us in our hour of -need; they gave us the last drop of their blood. And what have we -done for their unhappy country? When I think of our ingratitude, -my heart bleeds. - -The Poles rescued us. Seeing them so proud and brave, we rushed -out, attacking the Austrians with the bayonet, and driving them -into the trenches. We were for the time victorious, but it was -time to beat a retreat, for the enemy were already filling -Leipsic; the gates of Halle and Grimma were forced, and that of -Peters-Thau delivered up by our friends the Badeners and our -other friends the Saxons. Soldiers, citizens, and students kept -up a fire from the windows on our retiring troops. - -We had only time to re-form and take the road along the Pleisse; -the lancers awaited us there; we defiled behind them, and, as the -Austrians again pressed around us, they charged once more to -drive them back. What brave fellows and magnificent horsemen were -those Poles! - -The division, reduced from fifteen to eight thousand men, retired -step by step before fifty thousand foes, and not without often -turning and replying to the Austrian fire. - -We neared the bridge--with what joy, I need not say. But it was -no easy task to reach it, for infantry and horse crowded the -whole width of the avenue, and arrived from all the neighboring -roads, until the crowd formed an impenetrable mass, which -advanced slowly, with groans and smothered cries, which might be -heard at a distance of half a mile, despite the rattling of -musketry. Woe to those upon the other side of the bridge! they -were forced into the water and no one stretched a hand to save -them. In the middle, men and even horses were carried along with -the crowd; they had no need of making any exertion of their own. -But how were we to get there? The enemy were advancing nearer and -nearer every moment. It is true we had stationed a few cannon so -as to sweep the principal approaches, and some troops yet -remained in line to repulse their attacks; but they had guns to -sweep the bridge, and those who remained behind must receive -their whole fire. This accounted for the press on the bridge. - -At two or three hundred paces from the crowd, the idea of rushing -forward and throwing myself into the midst entered my mind; but -Captain Vidal, Lieutenant Bretonville, and other old officers -said: - -"Shoot down the first man that leaves the ranks!" - -{32} - -It was horrible to be so near safety, and yet unable to escape. - -This was between eleven and twelve o'clock. The fusilade grew -nearer on the right and left, and a few bullets began to whistle -over our heads. From the side of Halle we saw the Prussians rush -out pell-mell with our own soldiers. Terrible cries now arose -from the bridge. Cavalry, to make way for themselves, sabred the -infantry, who replied with the bayonet. It was a general _sauve -qui peut_. At every step of the crowd, some one fell from the -bridge, and, trying to regain his place, dragged five or six with -him into the water. - -In the midst of this horrible confusion, this pandemonium of -shouts, cries, groans, musket-shots, and sabre-strokes, a crash -like a peal of thunder was heard, and the first arch of the -bridge rose upward into the air with all upon it. Hundreds of -wretches were torn to pieces, and hundreds of others crushed -beneath the falling ruins. - -A sapper had blown up the arch! - -At this sight, the cry of treason rang from mouth to mouth. "We -are lost--betrayed!" was now the cry on all sides. The tumult was -fearful. Some, in the rage of despair, turned upon the enemy like -wild beasts at bay, thinking only of vengeance; others broke -their arms, cursing heaven and earth for their misfortunes. -Mounted officers and generals dashed into the river to cross it -by swimming, and many soldiers followed them without taking time -to throw off their knapsacks. The thought that the last hope of -safety was gone, and nothing now remained but to be massacred, -made men mad. I had seen the Partha choked with dead bodies the -day before, but this scene was a thousand times more horrible; -drowning wretches dragging down those who happened to be near -them; shrieks and yells of rage, or for help; a broad river -concealed by a mass of heads and struggling arms. - -Captain Vidal, who, by his coolness and steady eye, had hitherto -kept us to our duty, even Captain Vidal now appeared discouraged. -He thrust his sabre into the scabbard, and cried, with a strange -laugh: - -"The game is up! Let us be gone!" - -I touched his arm; he looked sadly and kindly at me. - -"What do you wish, my child?" he asked. - -"Captain," said I, "I was four months in the hospital at Leipsic; -I have bathed in the Elster, and I know a ford." - -"Where?" - -"Ten minutes' march above the bridge." - -He drew his sabre at once from its sheath, and shouted: - -"Follow me, _mes enfants!_ and you, Bertha, lead." - -The entire battalion, which did not now number more than two -hundred men, followed; a hundred others, who saw us start -confidently forward, joined us. I recognized the road which -Zunnier and I had traversed so often in July, when the ground was -covered with flowers. The enemy fired on us, but we did not -reply. I entered the water first; Captain Vidal next, then the -others, two abreast. It reached our shoulders, for the river was -swollen by the autumn rains; but we crossed, notwithstanding, -without the loss of a man. We pressed onward across the fields, -and soon reached the little wooden bridge at Schleissig, and -thence turned to Lindenau. - -We marched silently, turning from time to time to gaze on the -other side of the Elster, where the battle still raged in the -streets of Leipsic. -{33} -The furious shouts, and the deep boom of cannon still reached our -ears; and it was only when, about two o'clock, we overtook the -long column which stretched, till lost in distance, on the road -to Erfurt, that the sounds of conflict were lost in the roll of -wagons and artillery trains. - - - XXI. - -Hitherto I have described the grandeur of war--battles glorious -to France, notwithstanding our mistakes and misfortunes. When we -were fighting all Europe alone, always one against two, and often -one to three; when we finally succumbed, not through the courage -of our foes, but borne down by treason and the weight of numbers, -we had no reason to blush for our defeat, and the victors have -little reason to exult in it. It is not numbers that makes the -glory of a people or an army--it is virtue and bravery. - -But now I must relate the horrors of retreat. It is said that -confidence gives strength, and this is especially true of the -French. While they advanced in full hope of victory, they were -united; the will of their chiefs was their only law; they knew -that they could succeed only by strict observance of discipline. -But when driven back, no one had confidence save in himself, and -commands were forgotten. Then these men--once so brave and so -proud, who marched so gayly to the fight--scattered to right and -left; sometimes fleeing alone, sometimes in groups. Then those -who, a little while before trembled at their approach, grew bold; -they came on, first timidly, but, meeting no resistance, became -insolent. Then they would swoop down and carry off three or four -laggards at a time, as I have seen crows swoop upon a fallen -horse, which they did not dare approach while he could yet remain -on his feet. - -I have seen miserable Cossacks--very beggars, with nothing but -old rags hanging around them; an old cap of tattered skin over -their ears; unshorn beards, covered with vermin; mounted on old -worn-out horses, without saddles, and with only a piece of rope -by way of stirrups, an old rusty pistol all their fire-arms, and -a nail at the end of a pole for a lance; I have seen these -wretches, who resembled sallow and decrepit Jews more than -soldiers, stop ten, fifteen, twenty of our men, and lead them off -like sheep. - -And the tall, lank peasants, who, a few months before, trembled -if we only looked at them--I have seen them arrogantly repulse -old soldiers--cuirassiers, artillerymen, dragoons who had fought -through the Spanish war, men who could have crushed them with a -blow of their fist; I have seen these peasants insist that they -had no bread to sell, while the odor of the oven arose on all -sides of us; that they had no wine, no beer, when we heard -glasses clinking to right and left. And no one dared punish them; -no one dared take what he wanted from the wretches who laughed to -see us in such straits, for each one was retreating on his own -account; we had no leaders, no discipline, and they could easily -out-number us. - -And to hunger, misery, weariness, and fever, the horrors of an -approaching winter were added. The rain never ceased falling from -the gray sky, and the winds pierced us to the bones. How could -poor beardless conscripts, mere shadows, fleshless and worn out, -endure all this? They perished by thousands; their bodies covered -the roads. The terrible _typhus_ pursued us. -{34} -Some said it was a plague, engendered by the dead not being -buried deep enough; others, that it was the consequence of -sufferings that required more than human strength to bear. I know -not how this may be, but the villages of Alsace and Lorraine, to -which we brought it, will long remember their sufferings; of a -hundred attacked by it, not more than ten or twelve, at the most, -recovered. - -At length, on the evening of the nineteenth, we bivouacked at -Lutzen, where our regiments re-formed as best they might. The -next day we skirmished with the Westphalians, and at Erfurt we -received new shoes and uniforms. Five or six disbanded companies -joined our battalion--nearly all conscripts. Our new coats and -shoes were miles too large for us; but they were warm. The -Cossacks reconnoitred us from a distance. Our hussars would drive -them off; but they returned the moment pursuit was relaxed. Many -of our men went pillaging in the night, and were absent at -roll-call, and the sentries received orders to shoot all who -attempted to leave their bivouacs. - -I had had the fever ever since we left Leipsic; it increased day -by day, and I became so weak that I could scarcely rise in the -mornings to follow the march. Zébédé looked sadly at me, and -sometimes said: - -"Courage, Joseph! We will soon be at home!" - -These words reanimated me; I felt my face flush. - -"Yes, yes!" I said; "we will soon be home; I must see home once -more!" - -The tears forced themselves to my eyes. Zébédé carried my -knapsack when I was tired, and continued: - -"Lean on my arm. We are getting nearer every day, now, Joseph. A -few dozen leagues are nothing." - -My heart beat more bravely, but my strength was gone. I could no -longer carry my musket; it was heavy as lead. I could not eat; my -knees trembled beneath me; still I did not despair, but kept -murmuring to myself: "This is nothing. When you see the spire of -Phalsbourg, your fever will leave you. You will have good air, -and Catharine will nurse you. All will yet be well!" - -Others, no worse than I, fell by the roadside, but still I toiled -on; when, near Folde, we learned that fifty thousand Bavarians -were posted in the forests through which we were to pass, for the -purpose of cutting off our retreat. This was my finishing stroke, -for I knew I could no longer load, fire, or defend myself with -the bayonet. I felt that all my sufferings to get so far toward -home were useless. Nevertheless, I made an effort when we were -ordered to march, and tried to rise. - -"Come, come, Joseph!" said Zébédé; "courage!" - -But I could not move, and lay sobbing like a child. - -"Come! stand up!" he said. - -"I cannot. O God! I cannot!" - -I clutched his arm. Tears streamed down his face. He tried to -lift me, but he was too weak. I held fast to him, crying: - -"Zébédé, do not abandon me!" - -Captain Vidal approached, and gazed sadly on me: - -"Cheer up, my lad," said he; "the ambulances will be along in -half an hour." - -But I knew what that meant, and I drew Zébédé closer to me. He -embraced me, and I whispered in his ear: - -"Kiss Catharine for me--for my last farewell. Tell her that I -died thinking of God's holy mother and of her." - -"Yes, yes!" he sobbed. "My poor Joseph!" - -{35} - -I could cling to him no longer. He placed me on the ground, and -ran away without turning his head. The column departed, and I -gazed at it as one who sees his last hope fading from his eyes. -The last of the battalion disappeared over the ridge of a hill. I -closed my eyes. An hour passed, or perhaps a longer time, when -the boom of cannon startled me, and I saw a division of the guard -pass at a quick step with artillery and wagons. Seeing some sick -in the wagons, I cried wistfully: - -"Take me! Take me!" - -But no one listened; still they kept on, while the thunder of -artillery grew louder and louder. More than ten thousand men, -calvary and infantry, passed me, but I had no longer strength to -call out to them. - -At last the long line ended; I saw knapsacks and shakos disappear -behind the hill, and I lay down to sleep for ever, when once more -I was aroused by the rolling of five or six pieces of artillery -along the road. The cannoneers sat sabre in hand, and behind came -the caissons. I hoped no more from these than from the others, -when suddenly I perceived a tall, lean, red-bearded veteran -mounted beside one of the pieces, and bearing the cross upon his -breast. It was my old friend Zunnier, my old comrade of Leipsic. -He was passing without seeing me, when I cried, with all the -strength that remained to me: - -"Christian! Christian!" - -He heard me in spite of the noise of the guns; stopped, and -turned round. - -"Christian!" I cried, "take pity on me!" - -He saw me lying at the foot of a tree, and came to me with a pale -face and staring eyes: - -"What! Is it you, my poor Joseph?" cried he, springing from his -horse. - -He lifted me in his arms as if I were an infant, and shouted to -the men who were driving the last wagon: - -"Halt!" - -Then embracing me, he placed me in it, my head upon a knapsack. I -saw too that he wrapped great cavalry cloak around my feet, as he -cried: - -"Forward! Forward! It is growing warm yonder!" - -I remember no more, but I have a faint impression of hearing -again the sound of heavy guns and rattle of musketry, mingled -with shouts and commands. Branches of tall pines seemed to pass -between me and the sky through the night; but all this might have -been a dream. But that day, behind Solmunster, in the woods of -Hanau, we had a battle with the Bavarians, and routed them. - - - XXII. - -On the fifteenth of January, 1814, two months and a half after -the battle of Hanau, I awoke in a good bed, and at the end of a -little, well-warmed room; and gazing at the rafters over my head, -then at the little windows, where the frost had spread its silver -sheen, I exclaimed, "It is winter!" At the same time I heard the -crash of artillery and the crackling of a fire, and turning over -on my bed in a few moments, I saw seated at its side a pale young -woman, with her arms folded, and I recognized--Catharine! I -recognized, too, the room where I had spent so many Sundays -before going to the wars. But the thunder of the cannon made me -think I was dreaming. I gazed for a long while at Catharine, who -seemed more beautiful than ever, and the question rose, "Where is -Aunt Grédel? am I at home once more? God grant that this be not a -dream!" - -At last I took courage and called softly: - -{36} - -"Catharine!" And she, turning her head, cried: - -"Joseph! Do you know me?" - -"Yes," I replied, holding out my hand. - -She approached, trembling and sobbing, when again and again the -cannon thundered. - -"What are those shots I hear?" I cried. - -"The guns of Phalsbourg," she answered. "The city is besieged." - -"Phalsbourg besieged! The enemy in France!" - -I could speak no more. Thus had so much suffering, so many tears, -so many thousands of lives gone for nothing--ay, worse than -nothing, for the foe was at our homes. For an hour I could think -of nothing else; and even now, old and gray-haired as I am, the -thought fills me with bitterness; Yes, we old men have seen the -German, the Russian, the Swede, the Spaniard, the Englishman, -masters of France, garrisoning our cities, taking whatever suited -them from our fortresses, insulting our soldiers, changing our -flag, and dividing among themselves, not only our conquests since -1804, but even those of the republic. These were the fruits of -ten years of glory! - -But let us not speak of these things. They will tell us that -after Lutzen and Bautzen, the enemy offered to leave us Belgium, -part of Holland, all the left bank of the Rhine as far as Bâle, -with Savoy and the kingdom of Italy; and that the emperor refused -to accept these conditions, brilliant as they were, because he -placed the satisfaction of his own pride before the happiness of -France! - -But to return to my story. For two weeks after the battle of -Hanau, thousands of wagons, filled with wounded, crowded the road -from Strasbourg to Nancy, and passed through Phalsbourg. Not one -in the sad _cortége_ escaped the eyes of Aunt Grédel and -Catharine, and thousands of fathers and mothers sought among them -for their children. The third day Catharine found me among a heap -of other wretches, with sunken cheeks and glaring eyes--dying of -hunger. - -She knew me at once, but Aunt Grédel gazed long before she cried, -"Yes! it is he! It is Joseph!" - -They took me home. Why should I describe my long illness, my -shrieks for water, my almost miraculous escape from what seemed -certain death? Let it suffice the kind reader to know that, six -months after, Catharine and I were married; that Monsieur Goulden -gave me half his business, and that we lived together as happy as -birds. - -The wars were ended, but the Bourbons had been taught nothing by -their misfortunes, and the emperor only awaited the moment of -vengeance. But here let us rest. If people of sense tell me that -I have done well in relating my campaign of 1813--that my story -may show youth the vanity of military glory, and prove that no -man can gain happiness save by peace, liberty, and labor--then I -will take up my pen once more, and give you the story of -Waterloo! - -------- - -{37} - - The Episcopalian Crisis. - - -In medical science, a _crisis_ is the change in a disease -which indicates its event, the recovery or death of the patient, -and is, therefore, the critical moment. Webster also defines -crisis to be "the decisive state of things, or the point of time -when an affair is arrived at its height, and must soon terminate, -or suffer a material change." No attentive observer of the -religious movements which are going on around us can fail to see -that the Episcopalians are, at this moment, in an interesting -condition. On the one hand, the ritualists are pushing ceremonial -and doctrine much further than even the elasticity of -Protestantism will permit, while, on the other, the -low-churchmen, alarmed at the demonstrations of their opponents, -are renewing the battle-cries of the Reformation, lest the labors -of Luther and Henry VIII, should be frustrated in their -communion. There will soon be the clashing of arms and the -interchange of active hostilities. As Catholics, we cannot but -take a deep interest in the result, and we hope that all the -combatants will, before going into battle, understand the cause -for which they are fighting, and then faithfully fight to victory -or death. An honest man should always stand by his colors, or at -least openly renounce them. The object of this article is, to -give a diagnosis of the present state of Episcopalianism, and, as -far as our abilities and kind intentions go, to prescribe a -remedy for the patient. - -In the first place, we find that there is a feverish excitement -about the trial of the Rev. Mr. Tyng, who, in violation of a -canon, has had the hardihood to preach in a church of another -denomination than his own. The canon under which he is arraigned -seems to present a case against the reverend gentleman, and from -the complexion of the court appointed to try him he has little -chance of escaping conviction. But we imagine that even his -condemnation will be nominal, and appear more as the assertion of -a power than the exercise of it. The low-churchmen are quite -excited by the discussion of the points involved in the trial. A -writer in _The Episcopalian_ considers the affair as the -most important in the annals of American ecclesiastical history. -Whatever the verdict of the court may be, it is of little account -compared to the angry feelings and bitter divisions among -brethren which will flow from it, and become more or less -permanent. Certainly, there is more bitterness among the -different sections of Episcopalians, than there is between them -and other Protestants. Low-churchmen love their Protestant -brethren, with the one exception of high-churchmen, whom they -regard with a natural antipathy. High-churchmen love none but -themselves, not the sects whom they eschew, nor the Catholic -Church, which eschews them. The trial of Rev. Mr. Tyng is not the -cause of the angry feelings which are now manifested, but merely -the occasion for bringing them out. They exist before any -occasion, and are found in the very heart of the Episcopal -Church. If the Rev. Dr. Dix had preached in a Methodist place of -worship, it is quite possible that no one would have made -objection; but Mr. Tyng, being on the other side of the house, -cannot have the same liberty. -{38} -The truth is, that all rules have a wide interpretation, and are -to be explained by custom, and here the defendant in the exciting -trial has the advantage. Even if he should be condemned, he will -be likely to have nearly all the popular sympathy, and so will -become the greater man, as a kind of martyr for his principles. - -The occasion, however, has brought out a bold manifesto from the -high-churchmen, which is to be understood as their platform, -around which they seek to rally their friends. Sixty-four -clergymen have joined together to form what they call "The -American Church Union," to which they invite all Episcopalians -who sympathize with them. They declare that the evils of the time -are fearful, "the young are growing up without education, the -community is familiarized with scenes of lewdness, the marriage -contract is made contemptible, the ordinances of the Gospel of -Christ are disused, and the public worship of God is neglected." -While thus the torrent of iniquity rages around them, they find -that an evil has arisen within the Episcopal fold, which -threatens the subversion of their whole system. It is nothing -less than the denial of the necessity of ordination of ministers -by bishops. "The right is claimed of preaching anywhere, at -pleasure; ministers of non-Episcopal communities are invited to -preach in our churches; and the intention is announced of -breaking down every barrier between our church and the religious -bodies around her." To counteract this destructive movement, they -associate themselves together, in a union offensive and -defensive. They promise to uphold the laws, the canons, and to -follow the "godly admonitions of the bishops," while they seek -"to maintain unimpaired principles which they have received from -their fathers, Seabury, White, Griswold, Hobart, Doane, and -Wainwright." - -While we confess that our sympathies are with the signers of this -pastoral, we frankly avow that it is somewhat vague and, to our -minds, inconsistent. No doctrine whatever is clearly stated, -except that of the necessity of episcopal ordination. The creeds -are referred to, and the (undisputed?) general councils; but no -explanation of their teaching is given. And then, he will be a -_wise_ man who can follow, at the same time, in the steps of -the fathers whom they name. Seabury, Hobart, and Doane were -high-churchmen in various degrees of altitude; but White and -Griswold were quite on the other side of the fence; while Dr. -Wainwright was generally thought to have been on both sides at -the same time. To us, therefore, he seems the best and most -gentlemanly model for the rising generation of churchmen who -would be "all things to all men." Then, again, he who would -follow the godly admonitions of the bishops must be able to go to -the four points of the compass at the same time. Fancy an -adventurer who would obey the admonitions of Bishops McIlvaine -and Potter, or, at the same time, follow the counsels of Doctors -Coxe and Clark. The convulsions of Mazeppa would be nothing to -the agonies of his mind. No physician could prescribe a remedy -for such a patient. "No man can serve two masters; either he will -hate the one and love the other, or cleave to the one and despise -the other." Why, therefore, in this enlightened day, write -contradictions and talk nonsense? -{39} -Some time ago, twenty-eight bishops made a solemn declaration -against ritualism; "and," says the _Protestant Churchman_, -"one of the gentlemen who has signed this address of the American -Union not only soundly lectured, but held up to scorn and -derision" these prelates, and especially the Boanerges of Western -New York, who, smelling Romanism from afar, vaults like a beaked -bird upon his prey. "O shame!" says the writer we have quoted, -"where is thy blush?" - -While thus the armies of the high-churchmen have begun to array -themselves for battle, the bugle sounds loudly from the opposing -camp, and the evangelicals are gathering together in earnest. A -church union is being formed among them, and a writer in the -_Episcopalian_ thus speaks the designs of his party: "Let -this evangelical church union be extended to every diocese and -parish in the land where its principles are approved. The -sacramental system is not the Gospel system, but its direct -antipodes, in which the sacraments are degraded from their true -position of sacred _emblems_, and made to serve as -pack-horses to carry lazy sinners to heaven. I hear hundreds of -ministers and thousands of laymen exclaim, 'Oh! that we had the -power to rescue the church from the hands of those who are -corrupting it!' These will be rejoiced to learn that nothing is -more simple and feasible. How? I reply by saying, what even -high-churchmen will hardly dare to deny, that the church of the -Reformation was eminently an evangelical church, and that the -evangelical portion of the present Episcopal Church constitutes -absolutely all of the real successors of the English Reformed -Church in this country. Ritualists and sacramentarians have no -more right in this communion than avowed Romanists." The -low-churchmen have the decided majority, and thus give letters -dimissory to their offending brethren. "God speed the Church -Union!" says a contributor to the _Protestant Churchman_; -"but let Mr. Hopkins and his friends beware lest they themselves -should be the very first upon whom this discipline shall fall. -Dr. _Guillotine_ experienced the beautiful operation of that -ingenious instrument of death invented by himself. This is a -precedent from which these gentlemen might learn a lesson." - -The low-churchmen make a point that, while they prefer the -episcopal form as more scriptural and more conformed to the -primitive system, they do not unchurch other Christian -denominations, and that, in this respect, they follow the -teachings of the founders of the reformed English communion. They -also contend that the right of the church to amend or change its -laws and services is inalienable, and that the time has arrived -when some important changes should be made. Bishop Griswold, -whose "godly admonitions" the Church Union desires to follow, -thus expressed himself: "In the baptismal office are, -unfortunately, some few words which are well known to be more -injurious to the peace and growth of our church than any one -thing that can be named." "Allow me," says the Bishop of Chester, -"to omit or alter fifteen words, and I will reconcile fifteen -thousand dissenters to the church." It appears, also, that an -opinion was expressed by a late presiding bishop of the -Protestant Episcopal Church that the great body of Episcopalians -desire some change in the phraseology of their services, and that -the peace and prosperity of the church require it. - -Here, then, the impartial observer can see how the ground lies. -The high-churchmen insist upon Episcopal ordination, and are -determined to resist all changes, while they are, many of them, -disposed to give a Catholic interpretation to the _articles_ -and liturgy. -{40} -The low-churchmen oppose them on all these points, and insist -that a Protestant communion ought not to call itself Catholic, or -use words of doubtful meaning; and that the literal sense of the -articles which form their real confession of faith should be -imposed upon all Episcopalians. We have ventured to call this a -crisis because, if there be vitality in either party, there must -come a conflict from which one side must retire defeated, leaving -the field and the spoils of war to the victors. But as this is -not the first crisis which has occurred in the history of -Anglicanism, we opine that the battle will be fought with blank -cartridges, and that, after considerable smoke, it will be found -that nobody is hurt. Then from the unbloody field the combatants -will retire to war with words, and to be greater enemies than -ever. Individual soldiers will lay down their arms to sally in -the direction of Geneva or Rome; but the great Episcopal body -will quietly await another crisis. Yet this condition of a church -which claims (according to some of its members--the Pan-Anglican -Synod, for example) to be a _part_ of the Catholic Church, -is not healthy. In contradictories there cannot be accord, and -one is right and the other is certainly wrong. A careful -diagnosis of the malady of our patient leads us to the following -conclusions: No one is bound to impossibilities, and therefore, -before their own church, the low-churchmen are right on all -points of the controversy, while, before the Christian world, -their opponents are singularly isolated and unfortunate. The -Episcopal Church contains two opposing elements which must ever -war against each other, and, while there are inconsistencies in -both liturgy and articles, the low-churchmen stand upon the only -reasonable ground, and say with truth to their adversaries, that -they who would be sacramentarians ought to go where their system -properly belongs, and where all other things are in harmony with -it. Such, we are sure, will be the judgment of the impartial -observer. - -1. The Episcopalians have a right to reform their services -whenever they choose, and are at perfect liberty to agitate the -question. By the constitution of their own church, they have the -power to alter, change, or modify both their liturgy and their -creeds. Did not the Church of England do this on several -occasions? Has not the American Episcopal Church done it also? -Did she not materially alter the prayer-book, leaving out, for -example, both the form of absolution, and also the Athanasian -Creed? That which has been done can surely be done again, -especially in a body which disclaims infallibility, and is, -therefore, sure of nothing, and is ever on all points open to -progress. Here it seems to us that the high-churchmen have no -ground on which to stand. They cannot assert that anything their -church teaches is the voice of God, because she expressly tells -them that she has no authority. They cannot hold any reasonable -theory of ecclesiastical pretensions, because, by doing so, they -would unchurch themselves. A church ought to know its own powers, -if it have any. They may have their own opinions, and press them -as such; but they have no right to lord it over the consciences -of their brethren who disagree with them, as if they (the actual -minority) were the church rather than their more numerous -opponents. Their fathers whose "godly admonitions" they seek to -follow, surely never meant to cast their "incomparable liturgy" -in an iron mould. -{41} -Besides, in sober common sense, all the extravagancies of the -low-churchmen are nothing compared to the doings of the extreme -ritualists, who have so metamorphosed the service that no -uninitiated Episcopalian could ever recognize it. Think of -changing every rubric, and engrafting upon the common prayer the -actual ceremonies and even the words of the Roman missal. We -understand that few of the signers of the union manifesto are -opposed to these advances of ritualism, and that many of them are -ready to hear confessions or celebrate Mass when a good occasion -is offered. With what face, then, can they find fault with their -brethren who exercise their liberty in another direction? And -inasmuch as there is a manifest inconsistency between various -parts of the prayer-book, it would be well for them and for truth -to have their code revised, that the world may know precisely -what they do mean. - -2. On the vexed question of Episcopal ordination, we are -convinced that the high-churchmen are wrong, before their own -communion and before the world. The reformers under whose -inspirations the English Church was formed, never intended to -unchurch the religious bodies of the continent with whom they -were in sympathy. The words of the ordinal refer only to the rule -to be adopted in the Anglican body, and do not decide at all the -question of the validity of non-Episcopal orders. The -twenty-third of the thirty-nine articles is so expounded by -Burnet. He says that by common consent a company of Christians -may appoint one of their own members to minister to them in holy -things; for we are sure "that not only those who penned the -articles, but the body of this church for above half an age -after, did, notwithstanding irregularities, acknowledge the -foreign churches, so constituted, to be true churches as to all -the _essentials_ of a church. The article leaves the matter -open for such accidents as had happened, and such as might still -happen. Although their own church had been less forced to go out -of the beaten path than any other, yet they knew that all things -among themselves had not gone according to those rules that ought -to be sacred in regular times. Necessity has no law, and is a law -of itself." - -The opinions of Cranmer, and of Barlow, the reported consecrator -of Archbishop Parker, were distinctly Erastian. At a conference -held at Windsor, 1547, Cranmer answers to the question, "Can a -bishop make a priest?" as follows: "A bishop may make a priest, -and so may princes and governors also, by the authority of God -committed to them." Barlow replies, "Bishops have no authority to -make priests without they be authorized by the Christian princes, -and that laymen have other whiles made priests." - -To the question, "Whether in the New Testament be required any -consecration of a bishop or priest, or only appointing to the -office be sufficient?" Cranmer answers, "He that is appointed to -be a bishop or priest needeth no consecration by the Scriptures, -for election or appointing thereto is sufficient." Barlow also -expresses the same sentiment. (See Stillingfleet's -_Irenicum_, and Collier, vol. ii. appendix.) - -The "judicious" Hooker undoubtedly maintains the true -Episcopalian belief, that ordination by bishops is preferable, -but not of absolute necessity to a church. A very able article in -this Magazine, published September, 1866, (Vol. III. No. 18,) -shows the truth of our view. -{42} -Passages are deduced from a work called _Vox Ecclesiae_, -which contain the high-church position, and admit that in case of -_necessity_ (which is left to the individual to determine) -"orthodox presbyters may ordain." As Archbishop Parker said, -"Extreme necessity in itself implieth dispensation from all -laws." The author of this article, to which we beg leave to refer -our readers, shows plainly that such a doctrine "overthrows the -very idea of apostolical succession, elevates human necessity -above divine law, and legitimates every form of error and -schism." - -Before their own communion, therefore, the low-churchmen have -every advantage, as they are consistent with the principles of -the Reformation which brought their church into being. When -Protestants desert their own platform, on what ground can they -logically stand? - -Secondly, before the Christian world the high-churchmen occupy a -very unfortunate position. They make assertions which unchurch -themselves, while they separate from their brethren, and aspire -to an ecclesiastical status which they have not, which the whole -world denies to them, and which they can never defend. If the -apostolical succession is necessary to the existence of a church, -then by the verdict of all who hold such a doctrine, they are no -church; for with all their pretensions, they have it not. It has -been shown over and over again, by arguments incontestable, that -the ordination of Archbishop Parker, if indeed it ever took -place, was wholly and entirely invalid. There is not satisfactory -evidence that any ceremony of consecration was observed; there is -no proof whatever that Barlow, the officiating prelate, was ever -ordained; and lastly, the form used (according to the theory of -the high-churchmen) was utterly inadequate to convey valid -orders. What need, then, to argue further with those who will not -see? If any Catholic bishop at this day should venture to -consecrate with the form which they tell us was used in Parker's -case, he would be subject to severe censure, and his act would be -considered totally null and valueless. One would naturally -suppose that the judgment of the Catholic Church on this question -would be held in respect. She has preserved the ancient rite, and -holds the absolute necessity of episcopal ordination; and while -she considers it a sacrilege to reiterate the sacrament of -orders, she reordains, without question and without condition, -every English minister who, coming into her fold, aspires to the -sacred priesthood. The same course has been adopted by what the -Pan-Angelican Synod calls the Eastern Orthodox Church, which no -more regards the Episcopalians as a church than she does the -Methodists or Presbyterians. Is any more evidence required by any -honest mind? If the opinion of the eastern churches is of any -weight, it has been more than once given. Dr. J. J. Overbeck, a -Russian priest, in a recent work on "Catholic Orthodoxy," treats -at some length of the English orders, which he pronounces to be -null. These are among his words: - - "1. The _Anglo-Catholic_ fathers, on the point of - apostolical succession and its needfulness, held latitudinarian - views, subversive of the whole fabric of the church. - - 2. The boasted unity or concord of Anglicans even in essentials - is a specious _illusion_. - - 3. Anglo-Catholicism is _genuine Protestantism_ decked and - disfigured by Catholic spoils." - - "As Parker's consecration was invalid, the apostolic line was - broken off, irremediably broken off." - -{43} - - "If Rome considered all ordinations by Parker and his - successors, namely, the whole present English episcopate and - clergy, to be invalid, null, and void, and consistently - reordained all those converts who wished and were fit for - orders; the Eastern Church can but imitate her proceedings, as - both, in this point, follow the very same principles. ... The - fact of the reordination is the final and conclusive verdict on - the invalidity of Anglican ordinations. By this fact all - further controversy is broken off and indisputably settled." - -We fancy, then, the amusement which the pastoral of the late -Anglican Synod will produce in the Eastern churches, for whose -benefit it has been translated into the Greek language. We would -recommend to the great Patriarchs to send a commission of doctors -to the West, that they may see that _oneness of mind_ of -which the bishops so fervently speak. Then when they see it, we -would like to have them point it out to us, that we may see it -also, and rejoice with them. - -It may perhaps appear to some of our readers that our sympathies -are with the low-churchmen and ultra-Protestants of the Episcopal -communion. This is, however, far from being the case. We admire -consistency and cannot accept logical contradictions. The -Protestant ground is something that our reason can comprehend, -though we believe it does away with all revelation and leads -directly to infidelity. But God has furnished us with no mental -powers by which to fathom a system which is neither one thing nor -the other, which wears a Catholic exterior over a Protestant -heart. Such will be the verdict of the world. How long -Anglicanism can last we know not. It has been a kind of half-way -house to the church, and it may occupy this position for a long -time. It seems to us that every honest high-churchman should -become a Catholic at once, when he will find what he wants, not -simply on paper but in life, not in imagination but in reality. -The movement called ritualism is an indication that the grace of -God is stirring up the dry bones; for Anglicanism in itself is -the most lifeless and unspiritual religion we know of. God grant -that the movement may bring forth its proper fruits. We only fear -that when it comes to "leaving all for Christ," to giving up -houses and lands, wives and children, position and preferment, -many will go back, (as we have seen with sorrow,) and be like the -young man in the gospel, who was, at one time, "not far from the -kingdom of heaven." Ritualism is only a yearning after the real -presence of the Incarnate God, for which the redeemed soul longs -even with anguish. "Tears were my meat, day and night, while they -said to me. _Where_ is thy God?" The true heart will find -its Lord only in that one body which is his fulness. Pray, then, -fellow-Catholics, pray for the sincere and true, that they may -have grace to forsake the land of shadows, and come where are the -bright beams of the morning; that ere the night of death overtake -them, they may, like the pure-minded Simeon, see the salvation of -God, and joyfully chant their "_Nunc dimittis_," "Lord, now -lettest thou thy servant depart in peace; for mine eyes have seen -thy salvation." - --------- - -{44} - - Bishop Doyle. [Footnote 20] - - [Footnote 20: _The Life, Times, and Correspondence of the Rt. - Rev. Dr. Doyle, Bishop of Kildare and Leighlin_. By W. J. - Fitzpatrick, J. P. 3 vols. 8vo. Boston: P. Donohoe.] - -"What can you teach?" "Any thing from A, B, C, to the third book -of Canon Law." "Pray, young man, can you teach and practise -humility?" "I trust I have, at least, the humility to feel that -the more I read the more I see how ignorant I have been, and how -little can, at best, be known." Such were the pithy replies to -the equally condensed questions put by the venerable Dean -Staunton, of Carlow College, to a young Augustinian friar who had -been proposed as candidate for a professorship in that rising -institution. The friar was Father James Doyle, then in his -twenty-seventh year. Erect in stature, austere in features, the -candid earnestness of his mind beaming through his expressive -countenance, which bore the evident traces of studious habits, -and the freedom of his unpretentious manners--all these -qualities, combined in his looks and declared by his language, -immediately enlisted the sympathetic esteem of the dean. Nor was -his youth an obstacle to his acceptance. His appointment to the -position followed, and the six years spent by him in the college -served as a fit preparation for the public career of this eminent -man, the narrative of whose life forms an essential part of the -history of his country for at least fifteen years. - -From the valuable work to which reference is made in the note to -this article, we find much to admire in the noble character who -forms the subject of Mr. Fitzpatrick's literary effort. There -must have been placed at his disposal a rich and abundant store -of material from which the biography was compiled. The work -itself, in a literary point of view, is creditable to the -diligence of the author; but at present we shall content -ourselves with an attempt to gather from its comprehensive pages, -and place before our readers, some of the most remarkable events -that distinguished the life and were influenced by the action of -the eminent prelate. - -Of respectable and honorably rebellious ancestors, he was born in -New Ross, County of Wexford, in 1786. In an appendix to the work -before us there is a chronological article showing the descent of -the Doyle family from some ancient, royal sept--a portion of -Irish history by no means uncommon--to which we would refer those -who should doubt his original nobility of blood. For us it will -suffice to know that some of his immediate relatives had fallen -for their country and its faith, and that even as far back as -1691, there were few more distinguished than the bold Rapparee -chieftain, "Brigadier Doyle," who was sent from Limerick, by -Sarsfield, to collect men and horses for the Jacobite army. - -{45} - -Anne Warren, the mother of the future bishop, was a Catholic, but -of Quaker extraction, and the father had died before the child's -birth, so that young Doyle was brought into the world under -circumstances, though not of indigence, still not of superfluity -in worldly goods. But nature richly endowed him; and what -treasures can be sought more desirable than the intrinsic power -of soul which no external change can diminish, and which retains -its richness, independent of the uncertainties of variable -fortune! Nor was his childhood other than obscure, if we may -apply the term to that state which, though humble, was -illustrated by the tender care and enlightened piety of a -Christian mother. His boyhood was not remarkable for those -extraordinary manifestations of genius said to be discovered in -the younger days of great men. No phenomena indicative of unusual -fortune or success in life attended his boyish acts, although -there is a tale of some careless fortune-teller having -prognosticated the high position and distinguished labors which -afterward rendered his name so memorable. At the age of eleven he -ran the risk of being shot for his curiosity in observing, at a -distance, a battle fought between the patriots of the rebellion -and the English forces. His school-days commenced at Rathnavogue, -where a Mr. Grace was conducting a seminary of learning to whose -seats both Catholics and Protestants had equal access. Hitherto -his mother had been his instructor, and there are no impressions -so important or so lasting as those imparted to the infant mind -by the solicitous teaching of a parent. Under her guidance, the -youthful aspirations which inclined his developing reason to the -ecclesiastical state of life, were fostered and encouraged, as -she early perceived that the tendency of his mental faculties -directed in the path of a holy vocation. In the year 1800, she -placed him under the care of an Augustinian friar named Crane, -who soon discovered the talents of the boy through his eagerness -for knowledge, and his intensely studious habits. She died in -1802, leaving him an orphan, but with the prospect of his soon -becoming a member of the Augustinian order, which he entered -three years afterward. Notwithstanding that he entertained a -strong repugnance to the eleemosynary practices of religious -communities of begging from door to door--and this aversion he -ever retained--he still selected a conventual life in preference -to the more public and active labors of a missionary priest. His -respect for the dignity of the priestly office was a -characteristic trait in his life as bishop, and his ideas on the -subject seem to have originated from that natural good taste with -which he had been gifted from his infancy. - -The ordeal of the novitiate passed through with fidelity, he made -his vows as member of the order in 1806, in the small thatched -chapel at Grantstown. The marked abilities displayed at this -period induced his superiors to select him to be sent with some -others to the college of their order at Coimbra, in Portugal, a -well-conducted institution, and connected with the celebrated -university of that place. As he was afforded all the ample -opportunities held out to those attending the university -lectures--a privilege accorded only to a few--his mind was -immensely enriched, and what is of still greater importance, his -ideas were enabled to attain a sturdiness of growth and -liberality of expansion which ever afterward distinguished his -writings and speeches. In his subsequent examination before a -committee of both houses of parliament, he testified to the -numerous advantages which were then, as now, derived from a -continental education for the priesthood. In his days, indeed, it -was no longer, as it had been in 1780, felony in a foreign -priest, and high-treason in a native, to teach or practise the -doctrines of the Catholic religion in Ireland. Still, the penal -laws, although relaxed, had left their evil traces long after -their name had ceased to excite terror, even if it occasioned a -thrill of hatred in the breasts of those who had so long been -subjected to the clanking of their fetters. -{46} -It seems somewhat of an anomaly for Protestantism, which was -inaugurated under the plea of freeing and enlightening the human -mind, to sanction the enactment and enforce the execution of laws -directly calculated to crush religious freedom, and make it -criminal to educate the children of the conquered Catholics. It -is, however, but one of the innumerable inconsistencies with -which the histories of nations and of creeds regale us at -intervals. - -Whilst young Doyle was deeply engaged in drinking in from the -purest and deepest springs theologic lore, and treasuring up in -his capacious mind the classic and philosophic eloquence of -ancient times, the sound of war disturbed his retirement. A -French invasion overturned the independence of the country, and -so rapid was the advance of Junot that the vessel which bore away -in safety to Brazil the royal family was hastened in its -departure by some shots from the conquering army. The peninsular -war ensued, in which the Portuguese, aided by the English under -Wellington, drove out the irreligious soldiers of the empire. The -enthusiasm which inflamed the minds of the natives was taken up -by the young students, and among them Doyle shouldered his -musket, believing that the best way to prove one's fidelity to -truth and justice is to _act_ when action alone is -effective. - -Mr. Fitzpatrick does not explain the short stay made by the -student in the college of Coimbra, as we find him in Ireland, in -1808, preparing for the reception of holy orders. He had -concluded a good course of study, and his natural abilities must -have rendered him fully competent to be admitted to the order of -priesthood, which he received in 1809, in the humble, thatched -chapel of his youthful days. But as there were then, to a greater -extent than at present, existing prejudices against religious -orders in Ireland, he was not only refused faculties, but even -the preparatory examination, by Dr. Ryan, Coadjutor Bishop of -Ferns. The young priest quietly remained in his convent until -called, upon the recommendation of some friends who admired his -talents, to the position of professor in Carlow College. Here he -rendered most important services. Within its walls he spent six -years most studiously occupied, both for his own advancement and -for the benefit of his pupils. The advantage of procuring -positions in seminaries or colleges for young priests of talent -and taste for prolonged study, is easily perceived when we -consider the necessity--more especially at the present day--of -fitting some for the higher duties of their order--the defence -and exposition of Catholic doctrines in a literary manner. Had -the talents of Dr. Doyle received no cultivation more than that -afforded by a superficial knowledge of theology in a rudimentary -course of three years, his life would have passed in obscurity, -and his eminent public services could never have been -successfully accomplished. The light of genius is, indeed, a gift -of nature, but the intensity of its brilliancy depends upon art -and culture. Besides this, his taste for literature excited the -enthusiasm, whilst it encouraged the efforts of the students. His -lectures on eloquence, which had, up to that time, been -considerably neglected among the Irish clergy, served as an -incentive to their ardor in pursuit of that noble science, at the -same time that it furnished his own mind with the inexhaustible -resources which he afterward wielded with such mighty effect. -{47} -We know of similar results having been attained by the late -eminent Cardinal Wiseman whilst rector of the English College at -Rome. The necessity of a learned clergy was scarcely ever felt as -much as at the present day, when men of abilities and cultivation -may be daily encountered, eager and earnest for the truth, but -not ready to admit it upon insufficient or superficial grounds. -This view, entertained by Dr. Doyle whilst in Carlow College, led -him to inculcate the same principles to those around him. - -But the scene of his labors changes, and we now approach the -period of his life in which his publications procure for him that -general recognition of power and virtue, hitherto accorded him in -a humbler sphere of duty. By an unprecedented unanimity he was -elected, in 1819, to succeed Dr. Corcoran in the diocese of -Kildare and Leighlin. The selection was more remarkable, as in -those days there were feelings of strong dislike entertained -against members of religious communities, and the subject caused -no slight trouble at Rome. The wise regulations of the church for -the election of bishops were observed in Ireland then, as they -are now. Assembled together, the clergy received the Holy -Eucharist, prayed for light to direct their action, retired in -silence, strengthened and enlightened, to give their voice for -the most fitting subject; and the result showed in this case, -that, as they had the generosity to pass over the bounds of -prejudice, the Holy Ghost guided them in their deliberations. It -was not a little surprising that the choice had fallen upon an -Augustinian friar; but that the dignity should be conferred upon -one so young--he was only thirty-two years of age--and with -such universal satisfaction, went far to prove the high esteem in -which he must have been held. The custom of electing elderly -persons to the episcopal office is generally admitted to have -traditional usage in its favor, although we do not read of our -Lord having regarded age as a qualification in his apostles, and -St. John is believed to have been a mere youth. Innocent III., -one of the most illustrious popes that ever reigned, was only -thirty-seven years of age when he ascended the chair of St. -Peter. And although the youthful appearance of the new bishop was -made the occasion of adverse criticism in some quarters, he -entered upon his office no less deeply impressed with the truth -of what St. Augustine said of the episcopate, "_Nomen sit -oneris, non honoris_," than if he were bowed down by age. - -Mr. Fitzpatrick's work exposes to us many evils that had been -allowed to grow up in the diocese under the inactive government -of some of Bishop Doyle's predecessors. Incompetent persons are -found in every state of life, and many of the miseries by which -society is afflicted arise from faithlessness or incapacity in -incumbents of high positions. Energy and diligence were not -characteristic of those who had gone before him, and abuses that -had been tolerated by negligence, grew into evils which were -magnified by their proximity to the sanctuary. But Bishop Doyle -was one of those faithful ministers who felt the responsibilities -enjoined upon his office, "_quasi pro animabus reddituri -rationem_." Some customs common among the clergy were not much -in accordance with ecclesiastical propriety, and it is not easy -to eradicate what has been allowed to attain a long growth. -{48} -It is true that the penal times had but just ceased, and the -decadence in ecclesiastical discipline brought about by the -dreary night of persecution, was of such magnitude as not to be -quickly remedied. Still, the new bishop had brought with him into -the office a thorough knowledge of the laws of the church, and a -sense of the obligation of carrying these laws into execution -whenever possible. These were the two principal reasons to which -must be ascribed the successful issue of all his measures at -reform. He called the attention of his clergy to the decrees of -the twenty-fourth session of the Council of Trent, with regard to -the reformation of the church, and dwelt upon the penalties to -which he himself should be liable were he to neglect the -enforcement of those wise regulations. - -For the decency of public worship, the ornaments and linens of -the altar, and everything connected with the sacred ceremonies of -religion, he had the most scrupulous regard. He instituted -regular visitations in his diocese, as he felt that he could not -be exempted from a sinful negligence in omitting to comply with -the decrees of Trent in this respect. In these visitations he -discovered the sad state to which ecclesiastical discipline had -fallen before his days. In one instance the vestments were found -to be in such an unbecoming state that he tore them asunder. -Returning next year to the same parish, he found the identical -old vestments sewn together and kept in a turf-basket. To prevent -a repetition, he consigned them to the flames, and as the parish -priest was by no means a poor man, the wretched taste displayed -by him was wholly unpardonable. - -Hunting was not an unusual occupation with the clergy of those -days. Practices by no means tending to increase the respect of -the people for their pastors, had been allowed to accompany the -marriage and funeral services of country districts, and all these -claimed the diligent reformatory care of the active bishop. The -office of reformer--as the very sound has to some an odious -signification--is not the most envious one in the world, and it -acquires a peculiarly distasteful character from those whose -self-interested conduct may fall under its action. Hence the -young bishop was sometimes accused of rashness in his undertaking -to correct abuses of so long a standing, and the plea was set up -that good and wise men had tolerated them in the past. Nor was he -free from the receipt of letters of complaint, principally, -though not always, from old pastors who found great difficulty in -abandoning habits which their sense of right would not permit -them to justify. They remonstrated with him for carrying out laws -for the execution of which he was responsible. But he kindly -reasoned with them on the necessity which pressed him to be -faithful to his trust; and as he never urged his own feelings or -his own bias as the motive of his action, but always appealed to -the law of the church, he gradually effected the most beneficent -results. He never used harshness, even where it might appear, if -not necessary, at least justifiable, and never was he accused of -disregarding the reasonable explanations of the humblest of his -clergy. Law, not self; justice, not caprice, were the motives -that incited him; and, guided by such principles, he confided the -success of his efforts to God, and thus labored under the -inspiration of the church. - -The sacrament of confirmation had been but rarely administered -before his time, and he frequently was affected to tears when, -instead of children to receive it, there were crowds of -gray-haired men and women. -{49} -The education of the young had been much neglected by many parish -priests, whose taste for agricultural pursuits led them to devote -more time to the cultivation of farms than to the instruction of -their people. One rural gentleman insisted that he could well -attend to his flocks of sheep without neglecting his spiritual -flock; but the bishop required that his time should be -exclusively devoted to his ministry. Many justified their -engagement with worldly occupations, or their inattention to -their duties, by pointing to the curate, and, loudly affirming -his energetic zeal, declared him fully competent to direct the -parish, whilst the old man should repose from his labors and -enjoy in ease the fruits of his past services in the vineyard of -the Lord. The persistent labors of the bishop at length produced -that good result ever to be expected from a faithful discharge of -duty. Visitations were regularly conducted throughout his -diocese, and the long-neglected canons of the church were -reestablished, to the great satisfaction of all good priests, as -well as with salutary consequences to the people. - -Not less important in their results were the spiritual retreats -which he inaugurated amongst his clergy. The efficient means of -preserving and strengthening the spiritual life of the priesthood -had been long impossible in the times of persecution; but when -this obstacle was removed, his predecessors took no steps to -remedy the ill effects of their omission. One thousand priests -and almost every prelate in Ireland assembled at Carlow, in 1820, -to avail themselves of the advantages of silence and prayer under -the direction of the young bishop, who conducted the religious -exercises. He had been always known as an austere man to himself, -and most conscientiously attentive to even the minor duties of -his ecclesiastical state, and the brilliant manner in which he -guided his attentive hearers through this retreat deeply -impressed them. "These sermons," (he preached three times a day,) -writes Rev. Mr. Delany, "were of an extraordinarily impressive -character. We never heard anything to equal them before or since. -The duties of the ecclesiastical state were never so eloquently -or efficiently expounded. His frequent application and exposition -of the most intricate texts of Scripture amazed and delighted us; -We thought he was inspired. I saw the venerable Archbishop Troy -weep like a child, and raise his hands in thanksgiving. At the -conclusion of the retreat he wept again, and kissed his coadjutor -with more than a brother's affection." - -Dr. O'Connell narrates that "for the ten days during which the -retreat lasted. Dr. Doyle knew no rest. His soul was on fire in -the sacred cause. He was determined to reform widely. His falcon -eye sparkled with zeal. The powers of his intellect were applied -to the good work with telling effect. At the close of one of his -most impassioned exhortations, he knelt down on a -_prie-dieu_ immediately before me. The vigorous workings of -his mind, and the intense earnestness of purpose within, affected -even the outward man. Big drops of perspiration stood upon his -neck, and his rochet was almost saturated." The fruits of these -labors were proportionate to their intensity, for the soil was -good, and needed but that cultivation, for want of which it had -long lain fallow. To reform the morals of the people, he knew -that the source of their moral teaching--the priesthood--must be -enlightened and elevated. -{50} -It seems that there can be nothing better calculated to effect a -cordial coöperation of ecclesiastical duties and responsibilities -than that a bishop should thus be willing and capable of teaching -his clergy in learning as well as in devotion; and of impressing, -by propriety of language and dignity of position, those sublime -truths that should be frequently proposed to their consideration. -Another great work undertaken by him was the revival of diocesan -conferences, which had long fallen into desuetude. He ordained -that they should be held regularly, and his own learning was a -safe guarantee of their practical utility. The many intricate -questions of moral theology, as well as local issues with which -the clergy of a well-conducted diocese should be conversant, were -usefully discussed in those assemblies with freedom and decorum. -The general non-observance of statutes and laws, arising -principally from the difficulties of the penal times, called for -more strenuous efforts than would have been otherwise needed. The -severity of penal laws against the practices of religion, or the -administration of the sacraments, diminished the number of -priests, who were obliged to hide themselves in the mountains, -and minister by stealth and under fear of death in solitary -places to the spiritual necessities of their flocks. This -accounts for the statute which was passed in a synod of Kildare -in 1614, allowing lay persons to administer the Blessed Eucharist -to each other in cases of necessity. But those times had passed, -and Dr. Doyle believed that what was then justifiably permitted -could be so no longer without sin on his part. Conscientious -fulfilment of duty alone directed him in these many salutary -reforms introduced by him for the welfare of his people; and we -dwell upon them with greater pleasure, as they evince the true -character of a bishop. These, and many other beneficent changes -introduced by Bishop Doyle, were but in accordance with the -improved condition in which the Catholics of his day found -themselves. After long and painful but finally triumphant -struggles to regain some of their lost freedom, they still felt -for a length of time the effects of that odious tyranny, by whose -means the proud, religious ascendency of a hostile sect had long -aimed at the complete subjection of the body and soul of the -Catholic population. It is pleasing to find that the first -relaxation of rigorous, repressive laws against the Catholic -Irish was owing to the influence exercised by the American -revolution upon English affairs. In 1778, Catholics were allowed -to hold property as well as their Protestant fellow-citizens; -and, although this was but a slight concession forced from the -justice of their rulers, the Irish people derived from it an -encouragement to persevere in asserting their further claims, so -often deceitfully promised and unjustly withheld. These claims of -his countrymen now assumed greater weight in the minds of -legislators, as they became more importunately urged upon their -notice by the powerful efforts of O'Connell. Bishop Doyle did not -hesitate to enter the arena, and throw the weight of his mighty -intellect and the no less important influence of his official -position, into the contest. A remarkably vigorous exposition of -the state of the question, and of the necessity of yielding to -the demands of justice, published in a letter signed J. K. L., -inspired new hope into his friends, and drew upon him the hostile -attention of numerous opponents. - -Polemics have, in our day, assumed a character quite different -from that which distinguished them in former times. -{51} -Much of the rancorous spirit, falsely called religious, which -disturbed society, and caused even domestic life sometimes to -bear an unchristian aspect, has passed away, and acerbity of -feeling which irritates, whilst it never convinces, is now less -frequently encountered than the milder tone of persuasive -argumentation. It may be that men were then more thoroughly in -earnest about religion than they are at present; but it would not -be easy to maintain that earnestness must be expressed in -language calculated to offend, and shown in acts intended to do -violence to brotherly love. It is more probable that, with the -progress of the age, men are learning more of the true spirit of -religion, and are leaving off much of that virulence which poor -human passion is likely to bring with it, even into the sanctuary -of divine faith. One thing is certain, that a change for the -better has come over the spirit which elicits religious -discussion at present; and the questions that excite our interest -and enlist our most serious consideration are agitated in a -milder manner than in the days of Bishop Doyle, when it was rare -that a religious dispute closed without abuse or vituperation, -and spiritual views were not unfrequently enforced by blows. - -A discussion arose between the Bishop of Kildare and Magee, the -Protestant Archbishop of Dublin, and as both were able combatants -upon a field which afforded ample space for assault and defence, -the contest waged was long and fierce, drawing forth the wit and -sarcasm, the learning and eloquence undoubtedly possessed by both -disputants. Instead of cooling by time, it warmed as it advanced, -and increased in interest as it drew into its current many minor -warriors eager to join in the religious fray. A spirit of -domination which naturally arose from the relations between -Catholics and Protestants, determined Magee to assume a loftier -tone, with more pretentious, and, on that account, less tenable -grounds. These circumstances rendered the humiliation of his -defeat more irksome to his high position. The Marquis of -Wellesley must have been an impartial judge, and at the -conclusion of the politico-religious combat, he declared that -Magee "had evidently got the worst of it." Several other -opponents who successively assaulted "J. K. L.," were easily -disposed of by his mighty pen. - -Influenced by his genius and eloquent writings, the movement led -by the great "Agitator" progressed toward its desired result. A -change was imperceptibly coming over the spirit of the times. To -retain a nation in bondage to a political or religious ascendency -not founded on the good-will of the subject, must, in the long -run, become impossible. As long as a people preserve unsubdued -their spirit of religious or national freedom, there is no power -on earth capable of frustrating their ultimate triumph. A great -writer observes that the war in which violence attempts to -oppress truth must be a strange and an arduous one. No matter how -doubtful may be the result for a time, no matter how obscure the -horizon of events, truth must in the end conquer, for it is -imperishable--it is eternal as God himself. Thus was it in the -struggle for emancipation in Ireland. The truth became at length -generally admitted, that no civil legislation, no state -authority, has a right to interfere with the sanctity of human -conscience; and that the power which attempts to violate the -natural gift of religious freedom transcends its limits, and is -guilty of a grievous crime against the established order of -Providence. - -{52} - -Before Dr. Doyle's entrance upon the public duties of his -episcopal office, the efforts made for their emancipation by the -Catholics had produced but little effect. Petitions crowded to -the parliament, but they were hastily and sometimes scornfully -rejected. Religious equality had been promised as a reward for -the parliamentary union of both countries in 1800; but the -insidious policy of Pitt proved the promise fallacious, and when -the nation found itself cheated out of its legislative power, -without even this slight recompense of religious freedom, deep -was the indignation felt. In the movements preceding Dr. Doyle's -efforts for the recovery of their rights, the Catholics were -unaided by the "higher order" of their countrymen, "who -sensitively shrank from participating in any appeal for redress." -(Vol. I. p. 156.) The people were thus abandoned by those whom -they regarded as their natural leaders, and, with some -exceptions, "the Catholic clergy not only held aloof, but -deprecated any attempt to disturb the general apathy." (Ibid.) -But Dr. Doyle brought new energy to the combat, and, although the -victory which crowned the labors of the great "Liberator" in 1829 -was principally due to his own herculean powers and indomitable -spirit, still the assistance rendered by the Bishop of Kildare -was highly appreciated by O'Connell himself. Here it may be -remarked that the Duke of Wellington is sometimes lauded for -yielding to the claims of the Catholics. It is just to accord -praise wherever merited; but, as the hostility of Wellington to -the demands of his countrymen had been for years the greatest -obstacle to their being satisfied, and as he yielded at last -evidently through fear of revolution in case of refusal, it would -appear that a reluctant concession, rendered when it could not be -safely withheld, is but a slight groundwork upon which to erect a -monument to his generosity. - -It would be a long though not an ungrateful task, to trace the -toilsome progress of the bishop through his many labors for the -temporal and eternal welfare of his people. Throughout every page -of the work before us we may perceive the deep solicitude with -which he continually watched over their moral and social -improvement. Wide-spread disaffection at long misgovernment had -evinced itself in various species of secret societies--Ribbonmen, -White-boys, Peep-o'-day men, etc.--formed either for purposes -hostile to the actual state of society, or, more frequently, -perhaps, for self-defence against the powerful and extensive -organization of Orange-men. The Ribbonmen promised "to be true -to, and assist each other in all things lawful;" but if even -justifiable in their origin and object, they not unfrequently -were guilty of acts which soon aroused the opposition of the -clergy. Bishop Doyle found his diocese extensively overrun by -numerous parties of these societies; but, as the people loved -him, his disapprobation was very effectual in checking their -progress. As most of the discontent arose from the collection of -tithes from Catholics for the support of Protestant ministers, he -reprobated the laws that were thus the cause of evils which it -was their office to remove. He himself counselled his people to -observe a negative opposition to the collection of these tithes, -by refusing to pay them, but never to resist with violence a -forcible execution of the law. To force obedience to this law was -frequently a dangerous experiment. The legal claims of the parson -were sometimes satisfied at the expense of the lives of his -unwilling supporters. -{53} -However incompatible with his character it might appear, yet it -was no uncommon occurrence to witness the meek parson at the head -of a military force, leading an assault on some undefended cabin -or directing their manoeuvres in order to possess himself of a -cow, an only pig, or even a wretched bed and bedding of a -destitute family. Goaded to fury, the people would sometimes -resist the soldiers, and the sacrifice of human life was often -the only fruit of a tithe-collecting expedition. It may be -interesting to read the following verbatim copy of a bill -announcing the sale by auction of the valuable spoil secured in a -successful foray by an evangelical gentleman in the neighborhood -of Ballymore: - - "To be _soaled_ by Public Cout in the town of Ballymore on - the 15 Inst one _Cowe_ the property of James Scully one - new bed and one _gowne_ the property of John quinn seven - hanks of _yearn_ the property of the widow Scott one - _petty coate_ and one apron the property of the widow - Gallagher seized under and by virtue of leasing warrant for - tythe due the Rved. John Ugher. Dated this 12th day of May - 1824." - -In his celebrated examination before a committee of parliament in -1825, Dr. Doyle rendered ample testimony to the practical evils -of this system. Notwithstanding the merciless exposure to which -he subjected the entire tithe business, there was nothing done to -alleviate the misery or remedy the sufferings with which it is so -pregnant, and Ireland still labors under this, one of her most -harassing calamities--the cause of her discontent and the source -of her degradation. Not a little remarkable is the historical -fact, that before the time of the reformation the Irish nation -never consented to the system of tithes established in all other -countries by the law of the church. Before the invasion there was -no such thing known. After that lamentable period the English -conquerors attempted to establish it as in England, but "Giraldus -Cambrensis," says Doctor Doyle, "imputes it to the Irish as a -crime that they would not pay tithe, notwithstanding the laws -which enjoined such payment; and, now at the end of six hundred -years, they are found to persevere, with increased obstinacy, in -their struggles to cast off this most obnoxious impost." - -A long letter addressed to his liberal friend. Sir H. Parnell, in -1831, is occupied in expounding his views on poor laws and church -property. His advocacy of laws to relieve the poor drew forth his -eloquent pleading in their behalf, whilst his extensive knowledge -of canon law made him familiar with the ancient legislations of -the church with respect to tithes. A short but characteristic -passage from this letter we cannot omit: - -{54} - - "I am a churchman; but I am unacquainted with avarice, and I - feel no worldly ambition. I am, perhaps, attached to my - profession; but I love Christianity more than its worldly - appendages. I am a Catholic from the fullest conviction; but - few will accuse me of bigotry. I am an Irishman hating - injustice, and abhorring, with my whole soul, the oppression of - my country; but I desire to heal her sores, not to aggravate - her sufferings. In decrying, as I do, the tithe-system, and the - whole church establishment in Ireland, I am actuated by no - dislike to the respectable body of men who, in the midst of - fear and hatred, gather its spoils; on the contrary, I esteem - those men, notwithstanding their past and perhaps still - existing hostility to the religious and civil rights of their - fellow-subjects and countrymen; I even lament the painful - position in which they are placed. What I aspire to is the - freedom of the people; what I most ardently desire is their - union--which can never be effected till injustice, or the - oppression of the many by the few, is taken away. And as to - religion, what I wish is to see her freed from the slavery of - the state and the bondage of mammon--to see her restored to - that liberty with which Christ hath made her free--her - ministers laboring and receiving their hire from those for whom - they labor--that thus religion may be restored to her empire, - which is not of this world, and men once more worship God in - spirit and in truth." - -In this one paragraph we have a compendious exposition of his -views and aims with regard to the civil and religious freedom of -his country. - -When the disfranchisement of the forty-shilling free-holders--a -disastrous piece of legislation--was effected in 1831, Dr. Doyle -undisguisedly expressed his liberal views of individual right and -liberty. One position maintained by him is somewhat remarkable, -and we record it, as it accords with the opinion of our -fellow-citizens. - - "It is the natural right of man," he writes--"a right - interwoven with the essence of our constitution, and producing - as its necessary effect the House of Commons--that a man who - has life, liberty, and property, should have some share or - influence in the disposal of them by law. Take the elective - franchise from the Irish peasant, and you not only strip him of - the present reality or appearance of this right, but you - disable him and his posterity ever to acquire it. He is now - poor and oppressed--you then make him vile and contemptible; he - is now the image of a freeman--he will then be the very essence - of a slave. ... Like the Helot of Athens, he may go to the - forum and gaze at the election, and then return to hew his wood - and fetch his water to the freeman--an inhabitant, but not a - citizen, of the country which gave him birth." - -Whilst thus battling with the injustice of the times, and -wielding with effect his powerful pen and eloquent -voice--expounding his views of human right, reproving insidious -politicians, reprobating the ungenerous legislation of the -government, and refuting the calumnies by which his religion was -assailed--he never lost sight of the humbler duties of his -pastoral office. From the turmoil and uncertain issues of public -discussion, he would revert with a sense of relief to the special -care of his own immediate flock. Great was the solicitude which -he so frequently expressed and always felt for the salvation of -his people. "Ah!" he would exclaim, "how awful to be made -responsible for even one soul! 'What then,' as St. Chrysostom -says, 'to be held answerable, not for one, but for the whole -population of an entire diocese!' '_Quid de illis sacerdotibus -dicendum, a quibus sunt omnium animae requirendae?_'" It will -tell, more than volumes, to know his character as bishop, the -exalted views he took of the value of a Christian soul. "And if -such," he proceeds to say, "be the value of one immortal soul -redeemed by the precious blood of an incarnate God, what must be -the value of thousands? And oh! what the responsibility of him -who has to answer not for one, but for multitudes--perhaps, -ultimately, for millions! How can he reasonably hope to enter -heaven, unless with his dying breath he can repeat with truth, -'Father, of those whom thou hast confided to my care, not one has -perished through my fault.'" In this spirit his efforts for the -education and moral improvement of his people were carried on to -a successful issue. -{55} -His wise restitution of the laws of the church to their proper -control over everything connected with his diocese, completely -removed the confusion which had long reigned. The statutes -decreed for the government of his clergy were rigorously -enforced. He placed upon a more intelligible basis the hitherto -unsettled relations of religious orders to regular diocesan -authority, and although a religious himself, he was never accused -of partiality toward such communities. In fact, he found it -necessary as it was difficult to induce them to undertake reforms -which he deemed very much needed in some points of discipline, in -order to render their services more efficient. He writes, (vol. -ii. p. 187,) "I have, from time to time, suggested to men of -various religious orders the necessity of some further -improvement, but in vain. They seem to me the bodies of men who -are profiting least by the lights of the age. I regret this -exceedingly," etc. In 1822, he wrote that "to suppress or -secularize half or most of the religious convents of men in -Portugal would be a good work." Thus his zeal for the cause of -truth and the benefit of the church led him, not only in this, -but in other instances, to express opinions which not many would -venture to publish. It is curious to notice his estimate of a -writer to whom but few would accord the same justice. In a letter -written to Mariana in 1830, he says, "You would like to know -something of Fleury. Well, he is the ablest historian the church -has produced; but he told truth sometimes without disguise, and -censured the views and conduct of many persons, who in return -gave him a bad name." As he loved, instead of fearing freedom of -thought, so, too, he boldly expressed his opinions; and with all -the power at his command endeavored to carry out his views. He -was no mere theorist, although he theorized extensively upon two -important subjects. One was upon the practicability of effecting -a union between the Anglican and Catholic churches, and the other -had reference to the formation of a patriarchate for Ireland. For -his action upon both of these questions, arising as they did from -the circumstances of his time, he has been made the object of -adverse, as well as favorable criticism. Of his theological -knowledge, and of the light which his own native genius threw -upon every topic he touched, there can be but one opinion, nor -will there be found any rash enough to doubt the honesty of his -intentions. This is sufficient to exonerate him from all -unbecoming charges in the minds of enlightened men, and it is -only the vicious and ignorant that stoop to the imputation of -evil motives. His view with regard to the union of the churches -appears to have been a doctrinal submission to the Catholic -Church, and a compromise in matters of discipline. The advantages -to be derived from having a patriarch in Ireland, were presented -by Dr. Doyle with his usual argumentative ability; and although -accused of having desired the office for himself, the charge is -an undoubted fabrication. Both of these projects fell through for -want of cooperation; but they show the extent to which his love -of truth, and love of peace, and love of increasing the power of -Christianity led him. Before concluding this notice of only a -small portion of his labors and of the events which attended his -career, we will transcribe the opinion formed of him by the Count -de Montalembert, who, in a tour through Ireland in 1832, visited -Dr. Doyle and Dr. Murray. -{56} -"They have inspired me," he writes, "with the greatest -veneration, not only for their piety and other apostolic virtues, -but for their eloquence and elegance of manners. Dr. Doyle is -well known to the Catholic world as one of the most solid pillars -of the true faith, and the three kingdoms will long remember his -appearance at the bar of the House of Lords, where, by his -eloquent exposition of Catholic doctrines, he confounded the -peers of England--the descendants of those men who signed the -great charter, but whose faith they have denied." - -Wasted by his continual labors and incessant care for the welfare -of his people, he felt the gradual approach of the last great -combat to which all must ultimately yield. He might well exclaim -with Saint Paul, "I have fought the good fight. I have finished -my course. I have kept the faith, and now there is laid up for me -a crown of glory, which the Lord shall render to me, the just -Judge." "When exhausted nature apprised him that the last sad -struggle was approaching, he called for the viaticum. But -recollecting that his Master had expired on the hard bed of the -cross, and anxious to resemble him even in his end, he ordered -his mourning priests to lift him almost naked from his bed, and -stretch him upon the cold and rigid floor, and there, in -humiliation and penance and prayer, James of Kildare and Leighlin -accepted the last earthly embrace of his God." This was in 1834, -in the forty-eighth year of his age, and in the fifteenth of his -episcopate. - -Mr. Fitzpatrick has rendered a valuable service to his country -and religion by writing the life of this eminent man. The next -thing to being a great man is to propose to our people the -example of great and good men, whom they should honor, and whose -memory should inspire those who come after them. Ireland has many -such men whose histories have not yet been written, and whose -lives would serve to raise in the souls of her sons a generous -emulation of their actions. An incident in the life of Dr. Doyle -will show that this was a principle with which he himself was -deeply impressed, and which he very emphatically expressed. A -foreign monk, dressed rather picturesquely, once approached him -with a very meek aspect, and said that he was a member of a -community from the continent just come to Ireland bearing the -relics of a man said to have been "beatified." At the same time -he offered to the bishop a considerable portion of the relics. -The bishop was somewhat ruffled in temper, and replied sternly: -"Sir, we need not the ashes of beatified foreigners while we see -the bones of our martyred forefathers whitening the soil around -us." - --------- - -{57} - - Iona to Erin! - - - What Saint Columba Said To The Bird - Blown Over From Ireland To Iona. [Footnote 21] - - [Footnote 21: This is a very ancient legend of the great - founder of Iona, and very characteristic of his exalted - patriotism and loving tenderness for all creatures, in which - he was an antitype of the seraphic St. Francis.] - - I. - - Cling to my breast, my Irish bird, - Poor storm-tost stranger, sore afraid! - How sadly is thy beauty blurred-- - The wing whose hue was as the curd, - Rough as the seagull's pinion made! - - II. - - Lay close thy head, my Irish bird. - Upon this bosom, human still! - Nor fear the heart that still has stirred - To every tale of pity heard - From every shape of earthly ill. - - III. - - For you and I are exiles both; - Rest you, wanderer, rest you here! - Soon fair winds shall waft you forth - Back to our own beloved north-- - Would God, I could go with you, dear! - - IV. - - Were I as you, then would they say, - Hermits and all in choir who join, - 'Behold two doves upon their way; - The pilgrims of the air are they, - Birds from the Liffey or the Boyne!' - - V. - - But you will see what I am banned - No more, for my youth's sins, to see-- - My Derry's oaks in council stand. - By Roseapenna's silver strand-- - Or by Raphoe your flight may be. - -{58} - - VI. - - The shrines of Meath are fair and far, - White-winged one! not too far for thee-- - Emania, shining like a star, - (Bright brooch on Erin's breast you are!) [Footnote 22] - That I am never more to see. - - [Footnote 22: It is said that Macha, the queen, traced out - the site of the royal rath of Emania, near Armagh, with the - pin of her golden brooch. _See Mrs. Ferguson's "Ireland - before the Conquest,"_ for this and other interesting - Celtic legends.] - - VII. - - You'll see the homes of holy men - Far west upon the shoreless main-- - In sheltered vale, on cloudy Ben, - Where saints still pray, and scribes still pen - The sacred page, despising gain! - - VIII. - - Above the crofts of virgin saints. - There pause, my dove, and rest thy wing. - But tell them not our sad complaints! - For if they dreamt our spirit faints - There would be fruitless sorrowing. - - IX. - - Perch as you pass amid their trees, - At noon or eve, my travelled dove. - And blend with voices of their bees - In croft, or school, or on their knees-- - They'll bind you with their hymns of love! - - X. - - Be thou to them, O dove! where'er - The men or women saints are found. - My hyssop flying through the air; - My seven-fold benedictions bear-- - To them, and all on Irish ground. - - XI. - - Thou wilt return, my Irish bird-- - I, Colum, do foretell it thee. - Would thou couldst speak as thou hast heard - To all I love--O happy bird! - At home in Eri soon to be! - --------- - -{59} - - Magas; or, Long Ago. - - A Tale Of The Early Times. - - - Chapter VII. - -Are there any souls who can read the gospels as they would a -common history of an heroic being? Whose frames do not thrill at -the sublime words the anointed Saviour uttered? Whose hearts do -not glow with an unearthly warmth at the touching incidents which -mark the divine footsteps? Who see in the miracles only a -temporary relief from natural ailments? Who feel in the -tremendous agony of the passion only the ordinary tide of human -emotion in contemplating suffering? Such as these will not -sympathize with Lotis, as she rose from the cleansing waters with -one sole aspiration in her heart; one firm, unchangeable purpose -in her will; one object of interest for her intellect; one single -love to fill every affection she was conscious of. Long ago she -had sought the truth, the light, the life, the way. She possessed -them now; it remained for her to form herself upon the model, to -think his thoughts, to act his deeds, to live in his sight, and -be crucified in him; and all because she felt that here on earth -it was the only life worth having, the only love worth loving. -The perversion of the world had become to her the necessary -result of its having forsaken God; and because it has forsaken -God, and cannot recognize truth, it will ever persecute good; and -they that live godly in Jesus Christ must necessarily suffer -persecution--the persecution to which a blessing is promised. Day -and night did Lotis meditate on the words of God; nor was it long -ere she desired to bring them into action. After the example of -the Christians of Jerusalem, she had placed her resources at the -feet of the Bishop of Athens, and now she placed her services -under his direction. But there was one thought that haunted her, -and often she uttered one word in his presence; that word was -Chione. - -"And what do you think can be done for Chione, my child?" asked -the good bishop one day. - -"I do not know, father, (so let me call you, I beg;) I do not -know; but I understand her struggle now, which I did not when I -sat with her on the ruins; I see what she meant when she could -not give up Magas, or the applause of the world. She dreaded -slavery because she was not free in soul. Would I could win the -interior freedom for her by wearing the exterior chain. Father, -let me beg Chione's freedom, bodily freedom; hers is not a spirit -to be coerced into discipline. Surveillance only exasperates -her." - -"I believe it, my child, when it is not of her own choosing. -Remember, however, she obeys Magas." - -"Because he flatters her, fosters her pride, and maintains her in -her station; besides, she loves him, and a woman easily obeys -where she loves." - -"She has bound herself to follow Christ." - -"But she does not feel free to do it. Perhaps, were exterior -freedom granted to her, she might follow what she knows to be -truth. I shall never forget her appearance in the ruins of Tiryns -when first I accosted her. Chione has not lost her faith." - -{60} - -"Faith without works is dead," [Footnote 23] said the bishop; -"for works are the expression of our love, of that divine charity -without which we are nothing. [Footnote 24] Though we speak with -the tongues of men and of angels, and have not charity, we become -as sounding brass or tinkling cymbals." - - [Footnote 23: James ii. 20.] - - [Footnote 24: I Cor. xiii. I, 2.] - -"Chione knows this," said Lotis; "she feels it intensely; it is -this feeling which occasions the struggle which she says is -destroying her." - -"Well, she shall have her freedom, my daughter, though I doubt -its effecting a good result. It is scarcely in the redemptive -order. Our Lord cured those only whose souls were turned to him. -[Footnote 25] - - [Footnote 25: "And he did not many mighty works there, - because of their unbelief." Matt. xiii. 58.] - -Men try to penetrate the secrets of matter, and call their -guesses science. The action of mind they observe not, or they -would see that it obeys laws as unfalteringly as the insensate -stone. A soul perfectly united to God is endowed with power that -seems supernatural to those who know not that 'soul' is of divine -origin, and even in its primal attributes towers above matter. -The action of such a soul on one open to its influences is -miraculous, as all action of grace is; but it was once Adam's -privilege by conferred gift at creation; it is now the -Christian's right, purchased for him by Christ. The apostles, as -you know, heal those whom their shadow falls upon, not of their -own power, but by virtue of the Holy Spirit that dwells in them; -but the power of God thus manifests itself only when the -recipient has at least some degree of recipient power, obtained -by grace also. Christ is silent before his unbelieving judges, -works no miracle for Herod; yet he cannot exist without grace -flowing from him; but grace falling on souls who will not receive -it, but hardens them the more. [Footnote 26] This is why an -apostate is ever harder to reconvert than one who has never -received the faith; this is why we are forbidden to cast our -pearls before swine; this is why I tremble for Chione. Remorse -was busy at her heart when you left her. If she listens to the -voice of God thus speaking within her, she may yet be a saint; if -she rejects the proffered voice, I _fear_, I fear the effect -of grace rejected in such a mind as hers; it will demonstrate -itself with no ordinary power." - - [Footnote 26: "And God hardened the heart of Pharao." - Exodus x. 27.] - -"At the words she heard at Ephesus she fainted away," said Lotis. - -"Better," answered the bishop, "better had she thrown herself at -the feet of the apostle, and said simply, 'I repent me of my -sin.' Of what service to her was her remorse? It stopped her -eloquence, paralyzed her tongue. She could no longer mystify her -hearers by vain terms of an unintelligible philosophy of which -she held the key in her hand, though she would not use it. From -what you have told me, it was remorse, and not repentance, she -felt." - -"Oh! that she might be saved, though it were as by fire," -fervently ejaculated Lotis. - -The bishop looked at her face beaming with heavenly charity, and -the spirit of prophecy awoke within him. - -"Lotis," said he, "all Christians are more or less sureties for -one another, and must bear each other's burdens, even as our -Master became surety for each one of us, and bore our sins upon -the cross. It is a fearful burden Chione has to endure, more -especially for one of her disposition. 'Twill be, indeed, a -saving as if by fire, when salvation comes to her. -{61} -Say, would you be willing to help her bear her burden? If the -flames are kindled, and she shrinks from them, will you pass -through them in her place?" - -"To save her? Yes! Indeed I would! Father, I love Chione." - -"Then offer yourself to God for her, my daughter, and strengthen -yourself by prayer for the suffering you must look forward to. -Chione will be granted to expiatory love." - - ...... - - Chapter VIII. - -"Now, my Chione, we will go to Athens." - -"No, not to Athens, Magas; anywhere rather than to Athens; I beg -of you not to take me to Athens." - -"Why, what caprice is this? Where in all the world will you find -yourself likely to be appreciated so well as at Athens? What -audience more intelligent, more refined, more susceptible of -sublime emotions? I love Athens; you know I do, and you may judge -of the depth of my love for you, that, to ensure your freedom, I -have kept from it so long; but now, no one has a claim upon you -save myself; so we will go to Athens." - -"I thought you had set your heart on going to Rome." - -"That was only when I deemed Athens was out of the question. But -my--my Chione, you are free; we may go anywhere. My estates are -suffering from want of my presence; besides, I will settle some -of the revenues on you. You must come to Athens with me." - -It was very unwillingly that Chione acceded; but what could she -do? Was she less a slave now than before? Sometimes she thought -she was more so; for had she gone to the Lady Damaris, resumed -the practice of her religion, which clung to her inner being, -although outwardly she gave no sign of faith, she knew she would -have been not only freed, but placed in a position to render her -independent of Magas. And why did she not do this now--why? Her -fame had preceded her to the city, and she resolved to prove -worthy of the reputation she had acquired. Poetry, art, mythic -types, and Christian dogmas, blended in euphonic union in the -discourses she delivered, while her impassioned verse thrilled -every heart; everywhere she was greeted as the modern Sappho, -everywhere honored as the tenth muse; and at last the -acclamations of her fellow-citizens called her to the very temple -of the muses in which we were first introduced to her, there to -receive the crown of music, eloquence, and poesy. How could she -refuse? How could she renounce the world? ... The throng was -immense; not only the _élite_ of Athens were there, but -strangers came in crowds to hear the celebrated Leontium. The -small temple had been somewhat injudiciously chosen, since not -one half of the crowding throng could enter. The festival had -been proposed as a private tribute of friendship from the most -exalted citizens of Athens to their adorable muse; but Leontium -(as her public name ran) was no longer a private person; it was -found impossible to distance the crowds; and hastily a platform -was erected outside the building in the sacred grove, that the -public might be accommodated and have a chance of hearing their -favorite sing the glories of Athens. - -We will not attempt to describe the preparatory exercises; the -beautiful intertwinings and graceful wreathings of the various -myths represented on that day, when all the energies of the city -seemed exhausted to impart glory to the classical allegories that -were about to disappear from among mankind for ever. -{62} -There was an elegance, a chastity about the performance never -witnessed before, and an influence was felt impending that -belonged not to the types before them. To the superior taste of -Magas and Chione some of this atmosphere of exaltation was -doubtless due; yet the audience felt as if something more than -this was around them; as if the divinities themselves were -present, and insisting on receiving the homage that for so many -ages had been presented as their right. - -But now it was nearly over. The walls of Thebes had risen to the -lyre of Amphion, while the slow but untiring Hours had followed -to its soft music the glorious chariot of Apollo; and so artfully -was all contrived that the spectators could not discover by what -magic the stones were moved, or the figures representing the -hours supported as they moved on the mists away. - -Hermes, instructing Cadmus in the art of letters; Minerva, -introducing the distaff into the household; and Ceres, teaching -man to sow the corn; all these had followed with appropriate -poetry and music, with many others of a similar description. And -then, as if to heighten the effect by contrast, came a hush, a -calm, a silence; the stage was covered with clouds; the incense -rendered every object indistinct; low, melancholy tones uttered -at intervals, kept expectation on the stretch; then suddenly a -blast of trumpets seemed to clear away the mists; and the clouds -receding, disclosed Aurora opening the gates of the morning to -the music of the spheres, who then passed slowly out of sight as -a far more lovely vision broke upon the spectators--Venus -Urania, borne by the graces into the company of the muses, -descending from the skies to greet the votaries who, garlanded -and wreathed, were waiting to receive her in a burst of celestial -song. The illusion was complete; the daughter of Coelus and of -Light was on her first appearance greeted with a tumult of -applause; and as in wavy, measured movements, encircled by the -graces, she floated down to earth, scattering her bright -inspirations in sparks of fire upon the muses who were kindling -into enthusiasm at her approach, the whole assembly caught the -melody as it rose from the inspired sisterhood: - - Beautiful daughter of Coelus and Light, - Coming in glory to gladden our sight. - Vision of loveliness! star of the day! - Grateful and glad is the homage we pay. - All girt by the graces, thou comest to earth; - With joy and with music we welcome thy birth. - Oh! stay, thou sweet goddess, to brighten our life, - To banish our sorrows, to still every strife. - O Venus Urania! we call upon thee, - Inspirer of gladness, of ecstasy! - -The singers were the multitude; the sound of the voices of the -muses, or those who personified them, was lost in the thrilling -greeting which that multitude gave to their favorite--Chione. - -Dressed in a dazzling robe spangled with gold, crowned with rays -so artificially disposed that they seemed to emit light as she -was descending, Chione came forward as the Venus Urania of the -Temple. - -The throng hushed as she raised her arm to speak; among the -thousands there, scarce a sound was heard; the very breathing was -suppressed, for fear one tone of that eloquent voice should be -unheard. "My friends," she began. - -Suddenly a low, piercing wail broke upon the throng, like the -moan of a distressed spirit, so unearthly was the sound. Again it -rang through the echoes, under ground, over head. Chione started, -and the throng was awed. -{63} -Then, in the fearful silence, these words were heard. Distinctly -they came forth, though uttered in a wild, unearthly cadence, as -if they were spoken by one of another world: - - Once for silver, now for gold, - Is the Lord of glory sold! - Woe, deep woe! - Judas went to his own place; - Nor shall time the sin efface. - He must every joy forego! - For ever, woe! [Footnote 27] - - [Footnote 27: It is on record that, at the first preaching of - the Gospel, numerous signs, sounds, and words were uttered in - the pagan temples, at the times of worship, to the confusion - of the multitudes therein assembled. I leave the fact as I - found it, to the construction of my readers, each one for - himself!] - -Every heart was chilled; Chione paled and trembled. Magas sprang -to her relief. "It is but a trick of your own devising; you are -paid back in your own coin. Compose yourself, it is nothing." The -crowd was too dense to allow a search to be made. There was a -long pause, but at length Chione was called upon to proceed. Her -theme was, "The Glory of Athens--of Athens, the Civilizer of the -Nations." - -The tremor which was still slightly apparent in the frame of the -Venus Urania when led forward by Magas, (now habited as Apollo, -that he might consistently bear a part in the scene, and watch -over any demonstration that should again affect the goddess he -worshipped with so intense a devotion,) gave an increased -interest to her appearance; the look of appeal she seemed to cast -over that mighty throng, as if to claim protection from some -invisible enemy of her peace, imparted an additional tenderness -to the sympathies of the audience. Chione regained her courage, -as she inhaled the moral atmosphere that surrounded her; she -forced back the unwelcome shades of thought that had been called -from their tombs, where she intended them to lie buried for ever. -She gazed around. The scene at the back of the stage had been -changed. The citadel of Athens had been introduced, and hovering -above it was Minerva, the tutelary divinity of the place. Chione -was evidently surprised; perhaps again she suspected an -interruption; but Magas whispered, "By my command," and she at -length made a gesture, as if to begin. There was, however, a -marked change in her inspiration; she was no longer the -commanding genius of the temple. It was evident to all that she -was under some irrepressible, some irresistible influence. Magas -looked anxious; his whole soul was bound up in Chione's success. -She was his pride, his glory, his Aspasia, his Sappho. Never yet -had he known her to fail; and he watched her words as if his very -life depended upon them. She commenced: - -"Athenians, you have asked me to speak to you of the glory of our -city. Behold it! Wisdom is watching over its citadel. The -glorious Minerva, issuing from the head of the immortal father of -gods and men, presides over the welfare of Athens--has ever -presided over it! This is our crown, this our glory. The history -of this our Athens, is unlike the history of any other city in -the world; for it forms a chain of glory, a long-continued tissue -of renown. Her history is, a web of varied dyes, introducing -characters of every degree of virtue, talent, heroism, or -nobility. - -"Time was, Athenians, that this beautiful land, now covered with -fertile fields and richly ornamented villas; now the splendid -resort of intelligence, philosophy, and science--time was, that -Athens, the enlightened, the refined, the artistic; Athens, whose -works of beauty will supply all time with models; Athens, whose -pathways throughout the whole region round, even to the Piraeus, -are adorned with statues of her illustrious sons--the poets, -painters, warriors, and statesmen she has produced; Athens, -within whose citadel arises the Parthenon, which would itself be -the wonder of the world, were not that wonder exhausted on -beholding the gigantic statue of our tutelary-goddess which it -contains; time was, that Athens was a drear and sandy waste, the -resort of savages who knew not the use of fire--who were clothed -in skins, and lived on roots and acorns. [Footnote 28] -{64} -But Minerva looked with complacency on the spot she had selected -for the dwelling-place of her chosen people. She sent Theseus to -Attica, to clear the land from the pirates that infested it; to -enact laws, and teach the uncultured men to submit to righteous -rule. It was first the law of force, though not unmixed; for men -unused to government must be coerced until their powers of mind -expand; until they feel what lawful government can effect; until -they know that lawlessness is not true liberty. But not long was -Athens ruled by one. Athenae, Queen, who loves this citadel, had -other views. Her chosen city was to bear the glorious palm of an -enlightened freedom. - -"A deed unparalleled in the annals of nations occurred. Codrus, -her king, inspired by that sublime divinity who hath care of -Athens, devoted himself to destruction, that the favored city of -Minerva might be saved. Codrus died! more sublime in his death -than the loftiest monarch ever was in life. Who does not bow -before the shade of Codrus? Who does not feel that, by his -patriotism, his disinterestedness, his heroism, he laid the -foundation of his country's greatness? - - His death--our life! - -"Bear with me; I must pause a moment here." - -Music filled up that pause; but music so solemn, so grand, that -the audience felt as if the spirit of the mighty dead were -hovering over them. Chione resumed: - -"To so great a hero, it was impossible to find a worthy -successor! 'Man is not fit for irresponsible power. Too commonly -he uses it but to give the reign to his own passions, while he -represses in his subjects the development of those lofty -qualities of soul which distinguish man from the brutes that -scour our plains. No other king ever wielded the sceptre in -Athens; for Minerva intended that a people should be formed, and -not a single individual. She wished a body of men to rise to -greatness, not a crowned monarch to acquire renown by the -extirpation of millions. - -"Athenae loved her children, and she gave them a law-giver whose -first act relieved the poor of their burdens; released them from -the oppression of the rich. Solon knew that the poor are the -sinews of a nation; he knew too, that there is a point in which -the crushing power of debt destroys the qualities that form the -man, the free-man so dear to wisdom; and Athens shook off this -oppression beneath his righteous sway. The laws of Solon shall be -honored as long as rectitude itself is honored, because they -recognize that principle of individual development which alone -can form a great people. Particular modes of bringing out this -principle may change, may pass into other modes; but the -principle itself is eternal, it is worthy of Solon, worthy of the -descendant of the immortal Codrus; it was a direct inspiration of -that wisdom which has so unweariedly watched over the formation -of the Athenian people. - -{65} - -"Such a principle was it to which we owe the sages and the heroes -that adorn our annals. What heart does not thrill on hearing the -name of Miltiades, of Themistocles, of Cimon, or Aristides? Who -does not glow with rapture at beholding the works of Phidias, of -Praxiteles, Apelles? Who can study with Anaxagoras, converse with -Socrates, or speculate with Plato and Aristotle, nor feel the -divine inspiration communicated to themselves? Who can read the -annals of Xenophon and Thucydides, without feeling proud that he -himself is a citizen of Athens; and which of us has not wept -tears of ecstatic emotion at beholding a tragedy of Euripides or -of Sophocles? What country in the world could ever boast of such -a galaxy of celebrated names? - -"Tell me not that these men were not all of Athenian origin. What -if some few of them first saw the light in some other city than -that of Athens. Not the less to Athens do they owe their genius -and their fame; none the less from her did they receive their -inspiration, their culture, and development. The influence of -Athens is not limited to her own domain. Her great men live for -ever to kindle thoughts of greatness throughout the world. Many -far distant, both in time and space, will, to endless ages, love -to muse with Pericles on the banks of the Ilissus, while he is -planning those exquisite creations which have linked his name -with all that is sublime and beautiful in human art. Many will -rejoice with him as gently he sinks to rest, sustained by the -sublime consciousness that, during the whole of his long career, -he had never caused an Athenian to shed a tear. - -"His career was for humanity, and in this he resembled Athens; -for unlike the vulgar glory that crowns the conqueror's arms, the -boast of Athens is that, although so many deeds of prowess attest -the heroic valor of her children, yet never, never did she enter -on an aggressive war for the mere sake of conquest, for the -vain-glorious motive of adding by injustice another territory to -her own. No, Athens has shed her benefits abroad; has made known -to the nations all the virtues of the earth. She has proved -herself capable of great acts, alike in war as in peace. Her -genius is godlike, it is diffusive. The very site Minerva chose -for her citadel betokens this destiny. Athens is compelled by -circumstance to seek by peaceful commerce the corn necessary for -her subsistence. The goddess gave her the honey of Hymettus, the -Pentelic marble, and the silver mines of Laurion, that her -eloquence might be sweet, her courage firm, and her commerce -gainful; but she denied her corn, that corn which is the -nutriment of the body, that, by fetching it from foreign lands, -she might, in doing so, communicate to the world those sublime -ideas which form the nobler nutriment of the soul. - -"Thus is it that wisdom is the glory of Athens; it explains the -history of the past; it affords a key to our present position. - -"The mighty genius of force now bestrides the nations; it keeps -down the surging emotions of half-savage men; itself, with its -stoical insensibility to beauty, with its gladiatorial -slaughters, betokening that it is hardly yet emerged from -barbarism. Is this constrained calm to effect no purpose in the -decrees of wisdom? Examine, and you will find that the glory of -Athens is still increasing, even under a supposed subjection. -[Footnote 29] - - [Footnote 29: The Romans, out of reverence to letters, left - to Athens a nominal freedom a long time after they had - virtually subjugated her. It was not till the reign of - Severus that her civilization was crushed. Chione is supposed - to speak one hundred and fifty years before that period.] - -{66} - -"The nominal dependent refines and civilizes her conqueror. The -wisdom of Athens, which, confined within its own narrow domain, -could but have enlightened the inhabitants of a few cities, is -now spreading over the entire earth; the words of its sages are -instructing our haughty rulers; the myths of our poets are -civilizing Rome. This, then, is the glory of Athens; and such -glory must needs be eternal. Lands may change owners, and -physical force give a momentary, a seeming nobility to a -barbarian; but mind is immortal! the empire of ideas lasts for -ever. Thus is Athens the civilizer of the nations. - -"Sons of Athens! heirs of the philosophic ages! children of the -poets! to you I need not explain how the beautiful devices which -surround us are types of a higher knowledge--how many a glorious -idea lies hidden under the name Minerva. The veiled Isis of -Egypt, upon whose statue was inscribed, 'I am all that has been, -all that shall be, and none among mortals has ever yet lifted my -veil,' was, as you know, but another form of our loved Deity. -Wisdom must preside at every institution designed to last. The -precepts of Anaxagoras, the reveries of the divine Plato, alike -instruct us in the eternity of ideas. Truth goes by different -names upon this earth; it is represented by the nations under -different myths, according to the conception men form of it. It -requires a high intellect to contemplate truth in the abstract; -to most minds it is simplified, endowed with power by being -personified; hence our worship. Isis in Egypt, in Athens becomes -Minerva; the veil, if not lifted, is at least rendered more -transparent; and it may be that the time of its lifting is at -hand. Portents of wondrous power are working in men's hearts; the -principle of development evolved in Athens is becoming spread -over the earth. Let us take courage. Athens is still at the head -of civilization; it remains with her children that she so -continue. - - "Three words are awakened within my breast, [Footnote 30] - While dwelling on Athena's story; - Three words are a key unlocking the rest, - Illustrating Attica's glory. - These words proceed from no outward cause, - Within us they write their immortal laws. - - "Man was created all free, all free, - Chains seen at his birth were never; - Believe it, in spite of the enmity - And folly of men put together. - I fear not the slave who has broken his chain, - 'Tis the Godlike resuming his own again. - - "And Virtue is more than an empty call. - It may guidance and practice be. - Though man may stumble, and totter, and fall, - He may strive for divinity. - And what unto reason doth seem unreal. - Full oft, to the child-like, doth Wisdom reveal. - - "For a God _doth_ exist; and a Holy Will - Is there still, though the human will palters; - Over time, over space, the high thought floateth still. - All glowing with life that ne'er falters; - While all things move round in unceasing change, - That spirit breathes peace through the heavenly range. - - "Oh! guard well these words within every breast, - For on them rests Attica's glory; - Proclaim and observe them, with increasing zest, - They're the keys of Athena's story. - No man can e'er forfeit his inward worth. - While wisdom within to these words giveth birth." - - [Footnote 30: The German student will here recognize that - this song is an imitation, or rather a translation adapted to - the subject of Schiller's "Drei Worte neun' ich Euch, - inhaltschwer." The infidelity of Chione, like that of modern - times, does not hesitate to avail itself of truths learned - from Christianity, when such truths can adorn their unsound - philosophy; in fact, the truth that is in it, saves their - theory; error cannot stand of itself.] - -Chione ceased. She had not shone as she was wont to do; she felt -conscious that in palliating paganism to please the audience, she -was paltering with her own conscience. When she proposed first to -speak her address, she had intended to give a synopsis of the -philosophy and poetry of Greece, and to avoid mythology; but the -words she had heard had embittered her spirit, rendered it -defiant; and half-angrily, half-sarcastically, had she uttered -the sentiments we have recorded. There was not, however, the -mesmeric sympathy between her and the assembled crowd that was -wont to produce electric bursts of enthusiasm, albeit they agreed -with the sentiments expressed. Her own enthusiasm had been -quelled before commencing; she could not then communicate what -she did not possess. But it had been previously arranged that she -was to be crowned; she had been invited there for that purpose; -therefore the figure representing Minerva ceased to hover in the -air, came forward, and, to very sweet music, placed the crown on -Chione's head. - -{67} - - Beauty, crowned by Wisdom's hand, - Reigns triumphant in the land. - Her scented dower - Is music linked to poesy, - In tones of heavenly harmony, - Attuned to earth's necessity by Eloquence, - bright power! - -The pause that succeeded was filled up with throwing of bouquets -and shouts of congratulation. When a lull came, and Chione was -about to give a parting salute to the spectators, these words -came distinctly to her ear, though in so low a tone that they -were inaudible to any but herself and those close to her: - - Earth's crown of glory is a crown of thorns; - Such the Saviour's head adorns, - Who died for thee. - Crowned with thorns, for thee he bled. - On the cross his life-blood shed. - All for thee! - -Chione became very pale; she attempted to come forward, but fell -back in the arms of her attendants; she had fainted. - --------- - - Translated From The French. - - The Unity Of The Human Race. - - -This is one of a series of popular discourses given at the -Imperial Asylum of Vincennes, France, by A. de Quatrefages, -member of the Institute, and Professor of Natural Science. After -some preliminary remarks to his audience, he proceeds to the -question, What is man? "It is not difficult to perceive that man -is neither a mineral nor a vegetable, neither a plant nor a -stone. But is he an animal? Not likely, when we reflect upon all -his attributes. - -"None of you would like to be compared to those animals who feed -on grass, to the hog who wallows in the mire, nor to the dog, in -whom man has found the qualities of both friend and companion; -nor further, to the horse, though he were as celebrated as the -famous Gladiator. - -"Man is not an animal. He is distinguished above the brute -creation by numerous and important attributes. We have only to -consider his intellectual capacity, the power of articulation, -which gives to every people a special language, the capacity to -write, which reproduces language; the aid of the fine arts, to -explain and materialize the conceptions of his imagination. He is -also distinguished above animals by two fundamental characters -which belong solely to him. Man is the only organized and living -being who has the abstract sentiment of both good and evil, the -only being in whom there exists a moral sense, the only one who -believes in a future state, and who recognizes the existence of -beings superior to himself, having influence upon him for good or -evil. It is this two-fold conviction which grasps and holds the -great truths which are called religion. - -{68} - -"At a later period I will return to these two questions of -morality and religion, not as a theologian, but as a naturalist. -At present I limit myself to this fact, that man, however savage -he may be, shows signs of morality and religion that are not -found in any animal. Consequently, man is a being apart, -separated from animals by two great distinctions which are his -own, and also by his incontestable superiority. There the -difference ceases. With regard to his body, man is nothing more -or less than an animal. Apart from some differences of form and -disposition, he is no more than equal to the superior animals -that surround us. If we take for comparison those that assimilate -to our general form, anatomy shows us that our organs are the -same as theirs; we find in them muscle for muscle, nerve for -nerve, that is found in man himself. Physiology, in turn, has -demonstrated that, in the body of man, the organs, the muscles, -the nerves, have the same animal functions. - -"This fact is indisputable, taken from a purely scientific and -practical view. We cannot experiment upon man, but it is possible -to do so upon animals. Human physiology employs the means to -enlighten us upon our organic functions. Physicians have carried -to the sick-bed the result of their investigations upon animal -life. Anthropology also, we shall see, has derived useful lessons -from beings who are essentially our inferiors. Anthropology -should descend still lower than animals to enlighten us -thoroughly. Vegetables are not animals any more than animals are -men; but man, animals, and vegetables are linked together in the -same living organization. By this only, they are distinguished -from the minerals, which are neither the one nor the other, and -by certain general facts known to all. - -"All organized beings have a limited duration, all are created -small and weak, all grow and become strong; during a part of -their existence, all decrease in energy and vitality, sometimes -also in size, then die. During life, all organized beings have -need of nourishment. Before dying, all produce, either by a seed -or by an egg, (I speak of species, not individuals,) which is -true of the species that seem to come directly from a shoot, a -layer, or a graft; all proceed from a grain, or an egg. Thus, all -these great phenomena, common to all living organized beings, -including man as well as plants, suppose a general law for their -government. Science confirms this conclusion every day, which is -not an invention of reasoning alone, but is regarded as an -_experienced fact_. Further explanations are not necessary -to show the magnificent result. - -"How admirable, that man and the smallest insect, that the lord -of the soil and the smallest plant, are attached one to the -other, by the same links, and that the entire living creation -forms together a perfect harmony! - -"In this communion, and in certain phenomena of this accordance -with certain laws, equally common, there results one consequence -upon which I would not too strongly insist. Whatever may be the -questions relating to man, that we have to examine whenever these -touch upon any one of the phenomena that are common to all living -organized beings, we must not only investigate animal life, but -also vegetable life, if we would wish to find the truth. - -{69} - -"When one of these questions is proposed, what can we truthfully -urge in reply? We must examine man under the general laws that -govern other living organized beings. If the investigation tends -to make man an exception to these general laws, we shall know it -is false. If you resolve the problem so as to include man in the -general laws, you may be sure that you are scientific and -correct. With these proofs, and these only, I proceed to the -second question of anthropologists. Are there several species of -men, or does there exist but one, comprising several races? - -"Some explanations are necessary. Examine the designs before you, -and you will discover the principal varieties exhibited in the -human type. You have there individuals from all parts of the -world; you see that they differ considerably in color, some in -their hair, others in their size, or in their peculiar features. -It behooves us to ascertain if the differences that present -themselves in these human groups are those of _species_, or -if they merely indicate the existence of _races_ belonging -to the same species. - -"In order to reply to this question, you must ascertain the true -significance of the words _species_ and _race_. The -result of the discussion depends upon these two words. Unhappily, -they are often confounded and badly defined, and we become -enveloped in mystery when we wish to consider them more closely. -Let us then form a precise idea before entering into otherwise -profitless details. - -"None of you certainly confound the horse with the ass; though -the horse may be no larger than the dogs of Newfoundland, or -though the ass should attain the size of an ordinary horse--for -example, the large asses of Poitou. You will immediately say they -are different species. You will say the same if you place a dog -and a wolf side by side. - -"We call by the one name of dogs the different types, such as the -spaniel, the greyhound, the lap-dog, the Newfoundland, the King -Charles; and we are right. However, if we were to judge by the -eyes only, and even after more minute observations, there is -between the dogs I have named greater differences of color, -proportion, and size, than between the horse and the ass. The -latter have certainly more similarity between them than the types -of dogs I have named. - -"If I should place a black and a white water-spaniel side by -side, you would call them both spaniels, though of a different -color. When we examine vegetables, it is the same thing; a red -and a white rose are equally roses; pears that are sold two for a -penny, are the same species as those sold at twenty cents each. - -"Without any doubt you have arrived at the exact conclusion of -the naturalists; like them, you have resolved the questions of -_species_ and _race_, which at first sight seemed, for -the reasons I have given, more or less confused. - -"These examples fully prove that popular observation and common -sense are in many things fully as reliable as the investigations -of science. Were such deductions generalized into scientific -language, I feel sure there would be found few if any mistakes. - -"These investigations prove that animals and vegetables vary -within certain limits. The dog remains but a dog, whatever may be -his general form, color, or his shape. The pear is but a pear, -whatever may be its flavor or the color of its skin. It is from -these facts that I am led to believe that variations can be -transmitted through generations. The union of two spaniels -produces spaniels, the union of two mastiffs produces mastiffs. -{70} -Thus, in a general manner, the result is, that beings of the same -species can cease to resemble each other absolutely; moreover, -take exteriorly different characters, without isolating or -forming different species; as I have said, the _dog remains a -dog_, whatever may be the modifications he presents. These are -precisely the groups formed by individuals which we have spoken -of as the remote primitive types of species that have formed -distinct secondary groups, which naturalists call _races_. - -"You will understand, then, what is meant in speaking of the -races of beeves, horses, etc. We have domesticated but one kind -of beeves, which have generated the Breton race, the great beeves -of Uri, of such savage aspect, and also the gentle Durhams. We -have but one kind of domestic horse, and this has given us the -pony, as well as the enormous horses that are seen in the streets -of London, commonly used by the brewers; finally, the several -races of sheep, goats, etc., belong to one and the same species. -I place this assemblage of proof vividly before you to avoid -vagueness in your investigations, which would be attended with -serious mistakes. I will now cite examples from the vegetable -kingdom, which will be as familiar to you as the foregoing. - -"Let us take the coffee-tree. Its history is quite interesting. -The coffee-tree was originally from Africa. It has from time -immemorial been cultivated in Abyssinia, on the borders of the -Red Sea. It was not until toward the fifteenth century that the -seed migrated from this sea and penetrated into Arabia, where it -has been cultivated since that epoch. It is from there in -particular that we get the famous Mocha. The use of coffee became -common immediately. From the east it was introduced into Europe -at a later period, and it was at Marseilles that it was used for -the first time in France. - -"The first cup of coffee that was drank in Paris, was in the year -1667. A few grains were brought over by a French sailor called -Thevenot. Two years after, Soliman Aga, ambassador of the Porte, -under Louis XIV., gave an entertainment to some friends of the -king, where it was introduced, and the beverage pronounced -delightful. The use of coffee, however, did not become general in -France until the eighteenth century. You see, then, that coffee -has not been very long in use. It was almost a century and a half -before it became general among Europeans. - -"During this time Europe became tributary to Arabia for this -luxury. All the coffee that was used in Europe came from Arabia, -and particularly from Mocha. Toward the beginning of the -eighteenth century the Dutch tried to import it to Batavia, one -of their Indian colonies. They succeeded. From Batavia, some -plants were sent to Holland, and planted in heated earth. This -also proved a success. - -"One of these plants was carried to Paris in 1710, and was placed -in one of the beds of the Jardin des Plantes. It flourished, and -supplied numberless plants. Toward 1720 or 1725, a French marine -officer named Captain Destiaux, thought that, as Holland had -cultivated coffee in Batavia, it could also be acclimated in the -French colonies in the Gulf of Mexico. At the moment of embarking -for Martinique he took three plants from the Jardin des Plantes, -and carried them with him. The voyage was long and impeded by -head-winds. Water becoming scarce, it became necessary to put the -crew upon short rations. -{71} -Captain Destiaux, like the others, had but a small allowance for -each day, and this he shared with his coffee-plants. -Notwithstanding all his care, two of them died in their transit. -One only arrived safe and sound at Martinique. Planted -immediately, it prospered wonderfully, and from it have descended -all the coffee-trees in the Antilles, and in South-America. - -"Thirty years after, our western colonies exported millions of -pounds each year. You see that the plant, starting from Africa, -reached the east, the extremity of Asia, then America and the -west. It has consequently made almost the tour of the world. In -this long passage it has changed. - -"Laying aside the plant that we are not familiar with, let us -take merely the grain. It is not necessary to be a planter to -distinguish its different qualities and their provinces. No one -will confound the Mocha with the Bourbon, the Rio Janeiro with -the Martinique. Each grain carries in its form, in its -proportions and aroma, its extraction, so to speak. - -"From whence came these changes? We cannot certainly explain the -why or the wherefore, and follow rigorously the relation of cause -and effect; but in taking these phenomena together, it is evident -that these modifications result from the differences of -temperature, climate, and cultivation. - -"This example, taken from the vegetable kingdom, shows us that by -transporting the same vegetable to different places, and -subjecting it to different culture, _diverse races_ are -obtained. - -"Tea that was transported to South America several years since -presents the same results. - -"Now take an example from among the animals. You know that the -turkey is a native of America. Its introduction into Europe is -quite recent. - -"In America the turkey is wild; and there, in the condition of -its natural existence, it presents several characteristics which -distinguish it from the domestic bird. The wild turkey is -beautiful. Of a rich brown color, its plumage presents the -reflections of blue, copper, and gold, making it truly a -beautiful ornament. It was on account of its plumage that it was -first brought to France. No one dreamed of eating it, and the -first one that was served upon a table in France, was in the year -1570, and upon the occasion of the nuptials of King Charles IX. - -"When found to be such a luxury, it was considered too good to be -merely looked at, and it passed from the court to the farm-yard, -from farm to farm, from east to west, from north to south. At -this present time it is an article of commerce all over France. - -"In going from farm to farm, and from country to country, this -bird has sustained different conditions of existence, -nourishment, and temperature, but never a continuation of its -primitive condition that was natural to it in America. The result -is, that it has changed, and at this present time the turkey in -France bears no resemblance to its savage source. In general, it -is smaller, and its rich plumage has undergone a marked change. -Some are yellow, others white, some mixed with black, gray, and -yellow. Almost all the localities devoted to raising the fowl -have caused several new varieties, which have transformed them -into _races_. - -"To have thus changed their habits so as to lose resemblance to -their first parents, are our French fowls any the less -descendants of the wild turkeys of America? Are they less the -brothers, or cousins, if you like the term better? Have they -ceased to be of the _same species?_ Certainly not! - -{72} - -"That which is characteristic of the turkey is also true of the -rabbit. The wild rabbit lives around and about us, on our downs, -and in our woods. It resembles our domestic rabbits but little. -Among the latter you will see the large and the small, the -smooth-haired and the silky; the black and the white, the yellow -and the gray, and the mixed. In a word, this species comprises a -great number of different races, all constituting one and the -same kind with the wild races we see around us. From these facts, -which I could multiply, we can deduce an important consequence to -which I call your attention. A pair of rabbits left unmolested in -a field, would, in a few years, people entire France with their -descendants. We have seen how the single coffee-plant, carried by -Captain Destiaux, has propagated all the plants now found in -America. - -"The wild turkeys and their domestic descendants, the wild -rabbits and theirs, reduced to captivity, could then be -considered by naturalists as all proving equally their descent -from one primitive pair. - -"This is the secret of species. Having always before our eyes -numbers of single groups of animals or vegetables, for one reason -or other we hardly consider them as descendants of one only -primitive pair; we call what we see a _species_; if there -are differences observable among these groups, they are _the -races of this species_. - -"Observe that, in my explanations, I have not given for a -certainty the existence of one primitive source for rabbits and -turkeys. I do not affirm the fact, as neither observation nor -experience--the two guides we must follow in science--teaches -anything in this regard. I simply say, all are as though -descended from one only primitive pair. - -"In summing up the question of _species_ _and_ race, it -is not difficult to understand nor to believe, when we know the -savage type, and have historical authority which permits us to -attach to this type the groups, more or less different, according -to their domestication. But when we are ignorant of the savage -type, and in want of historical authority, the question becomes -extremely difficult at first, because the differences we find in -one and the other, and above all, in the different groups, could -hardly be considered other than such as characterize different -species. - -"Happily, physiology comes then to our relief. We find in this -science one of those grand and beautiful general laws, which -holds and maintains the established order, and which we admire -the more we study it. It is the law of _crossing_, which -governs animals as well as vegetables, and is, consequently, -applicable to man himself. - -"We understand by the term _crossing_, all unions effected -between animals belonging to different species or to two -different races. The result of the unions obeying these laws is, -that if the animals of _different species_ unite, in the -majority of cases the union is barren. - -"Thus, for example, it has been tried a million of times all over -the world, to effect a union between rabbits and hares. It is -said to have succeeded twice. - -"Much doubt is cast upon this operation by the testimony of a man -of undoubted talent, habituated to experiments, who believed -these unions to be possible. Though availing himself of all -possible means of proof, he was not more fortunate than his -predecessors, Buffon and the brothers Geoffrey St. Hilaire. Thus, -the rabbit and the hare, though presenting a great conformity in -appearance, cannot reproduce. Such is the general result of -crossing two different _species_. - -{73} - -"In a few cases, the union between two different species may be -fruitful, but the offspring cannot reproduce. For example, the -union between a horse and an ass. The product of this union is -the mule. All the mules in the world are the descendants of the -ass and the mare. These animals are so numerous in Spain and -South America that they are preferred to horses, on account of -their great strength and powers of endurance. The genet, which is -less desirable because it is not so robust, is the fruit of the -inverse crossing of the horse and the female ass. The genet, no -more than the mule, can reproduce. If one or the other is -desired, of necessity recourse is had to the two _species_. -In extremely rare cases, fecundity remains among some of their -descendants, but it diminishes gradually from the second -generation down to the third, fourth, and fifth. The same result -is shown in the union of the canary bird. I could here accumulate -a crowd of analogous details. Above all, two great general facts -appear that comprehend all, and are the expression of the law; -they are that, notwithstanding the accumulated observations of -years, made from experiments on certain species, not a single -example is known of an intermediate species being obtained by the -_crossing_ of animals belonging to _two different -species_. - -"This general fact explains how order is maintained in the actual -living creation. Were it otherwise, the animal and vegetable -world would have been filled with intermediate groups, passing -from one to the other insensibly, and in the confusion, it would -be impossible for naturalists to recognize them. The general -conclusion to draw from these precedents is, that infecundity is -_the law of union between animals of different species_. - -"Unions are always more fruitful when between two animals of the -same race. Their descendants are as fruitful as the parents and -the grandparents, where pains are taken to preserve the race -pure, and to prevent strange blood from debasing it. - -"When, on the contrary, a union is effected between two different -races belonging to the same species, producing a _mongrel -race_, the contrary takes place. - -"There is no difficulty in obtaining a mongrel race--the result -of a crossing of races; but the difficulty is when there is a -pure race, and it is desirable to have it maintained, that great -care is needed to prevent strange blood from changing it. - -"Races crossed by mongrels--that is to say, by animals of the -same species, but belonging to different races, multiply around -us. There are the dogs in the streets, the cats of the alleys, -the coach-horses; all beasts among whom the race is undecided in -consequence of crossing indiscriminately, their characteristics -becoming confounded. - -"Far from endeavoring to obtain cross races, men who are occupied -in raising stock, also bird-fanciers, know with what care they -endeavor to preserve the purity of the races they keep. This is -the general fact, and the result is, _that infecundity is the -law of unions between animals belonging to different races_. - -"This is the fundamental distinction between _species_ and -_race_. This distinction ought to be the more known and -considered, as it is borrowed from experience. - -"When there are two animals, or two vegetables, of whom we are -uncertain as to whether they are two distinct _species_, we -have but to observe if their union is fruitful; and if this -quality attaches to their descendants, we can then affirm that, -despite the differences that separate them, _they are the races -of the same species_. -{74} -If, on the contrary, their offspring diminishes in a remarkable -manner at the end of several generations, we can then, without -hesitation, declare them to belong to _distinct species_. In -citing these examples, I have not overlooked the subject of my -discourse, or the question at its commencement. - -"In referring to the designs before our eyes, they show us that -between the human groups the differences are marked enough, -though to all appearance less considerable than they appeared at -first. We do not know the types, or the primitive types, of the -several groups. - -"When we meet with one or several men presenting the -characteristics of these types, and we cannot recognize them in -spite of historical explanations, we are led to judge by our -eyes. Without taking man himself into account, we cannot decide -if these several differences that present themselves in the human -family are those of _race_ or of _species_; if man can -be considered as having had but one primitive source only, or if -he should have been derived from several primitive sources. - -"I have said before, and repeat again, man is an organized and -living being. Under this head he obeys all the general laws to -which are attached all organized and living beings; he obeys, -consequently, the law of crossing. He must then apply this law to -ascertain _if there is one or several species of men_. Take, -for example, the two types farthest removed--those which seem -more separated than the others by the greatest -differences--namely, the white and the black. - -"If these types really constitute _distinct species_, the -union between these species should follow the proof that we have -seen characterize the unions between animals, and vegetables, of -different species. They should be unfruitful in the majority of -cases, or nearly so. Fecundity should disappear at the end of a -short period, and they could not form intermediate families -between the negroes and the whites. If these are only _the -races of one and the same species_, then unions, on the -contrary, should be quite fruitful, and fecundity should be found -among their descendants, and they should form intermediate races. - -"These facts are decisive, and admit of no doubt. - -"For three centuries the whites, _par excellence_, the -Europeans, have achieved, so to say, the conquest of the world. -They have gone everywhere. Everywhere they have found local races -who have borne them no resemblance. Whenever they have crossed -with them, these unions have been fruitful; more so than with -those indigenous to themselves. - -"Man, from the result of the institution of slavery--which -happily has never stained the soil of France--has transported the -negro everywhere; everywhere he has crossed with his slaves, and -everywhere they have formed a population of mulattoes. Wherever -the negro has crossed with local groups or families, there has -arisen an intermediate race, who in character manifest their -two-fold origin. The whites have finally crossed with the -mongrels of all origins, and the result is, that in certain -quarters of the globe--particularly in South America--there is an -inextricable mixture of people, comparable, under the class, to -the dogs in our streets and the cats of our alleys. - -"The rapidity with which these mongrel races cross and multiply -is really remarkable. It is scarcely three centuries--hardly -twelve generations--since Europeans penetrated into different -parts of the world. -{75} -It is estimated that already the number of mongrels resulting -from the crossing of whites with natives, is a seventieth of the -whole population of the globe. Experience is indisputable, if we -even deny modern science, or at least, wish to make man an -exception to all living and organized beings. We must admit that -all men form but one species, composed of a certain number of -different races; consequently, all men can only be considered as -having descended from one primitive pair. - -"We arrive at this conclusion in despite of all kinds of -dogmatical, theological, philosophical, and metaphysical -considerations. Observation and experience alone, applied to the -animal and vegetable kingdoms, in a word, science, conducts us to -the conclusion, _there exists but one species of man._ - -"This result, I do not fear to say, is of great and serious -importance; for it creates in our minds an idea of the universal -fraternity of science and reason, the only schools that many -persons recognize at this present time. - -"I hope that my demonstrations will have convinced you; -meanwhile, I am not ignorant, and you all know, that -anthropologists differ. There are among my contemporaries a -number of men, even of great merit, who believe in the plurality -of the human species. You may possibly come into contact with -them. Listen attentively, then, to the reasons they will urge to -make you see with their eyes. You will find that their reasonings -all tend to prove that there is too great a difference between -the negro and the white for them to be of the same species. In -reply, state that between the black and the white spaniel, the -lap-dog and the mastiff, there exist greater differences than -exist between the European and the African. Yet these animals are -all dogs. They may argue, perhaps, that man, whatever may have -been his characteristics, could not have generated both blacks -and whites. Then ask why the wild turkey, whose origin, and that -of its ancestors, we are acquainted with, and the wild rabbit, -which we find everywhere, could have generated all our domestic -races? - -"We cannot, I repeat, explain perfectly the how and the -wherefore; but what we know is, that the fact exists, and we -shall find a general explanation in all states of existence--in -all conditions of people. - -"It is not, then, surprising that man presents, in the different -groups, the differences herein depicted; man who trod the earth -long before the turkey and the rabbit; man, who for centuries has -existed upon the surface of the globe, submitting to the most -diverse and opposite conditions of existence, multiplying again -the causes of those modifications by his manners and habits, by -his ways of living, by more or less care in his own preservation; -man, finding himself in more marked and varied conditions than -those sustained by the animals we have quoted. If anything -surprises us, it is that the distinctions are not more -considerable. - -"In turn, ask the polygenists--as those _savans_ are called -who believe in the multiplicity of the human species--how it is -that when the white man locates in any country, from the -antipodes, if you will, or from America or Polynesia--that if he -unites with the natives, who differ the most completely from him, -these unions are fruitful, and that, above all, there remains -traces of this alliance in producing a mongrel race? - -{76} - -"If you press the question more closely, you will find them -denying the truth of species; by so doing, placing themselves in -contradiction with all naturalists, botanists, or zoologists, -without exception; consequently, with all the eminent minds who -have followed in the wake of Buffon, Tournefort, Jussieu, Cuvier, -and Geoffrey St. Hilaire, who made the animal and vegetable -kingdoms their study, without discussion, or dreaming of its -connection with man. In agitating these doctrines, polygenists -place themselves in opposition to the most firmly established -science. You will hear them declare that man, above all, is an -exception; that he is guided by laws peculiar to himself; and -that arguments deduced from the study of animals and plants, are -not applicable to him. Then reply that, in the name of all the -natural sciences, they are certainly in error, and that it is an -impossibility that a living and organized being can escape the -laws of organization and of life, having a body fortified against -the laws that govern inorganic matter; that man, to be living and -organized, obeys, under this title, all general laws, and those -of intersection like all the others. The conclusion that we have -attained is, then, legitimate, and the nature of the arguments -employed to combat them, is a proof the more in its favor. - ----------- - - - Sayings Of The Fathers Of The Desert. - - -A certain brother was praised in Abbot Antony's presence. He went -to visit him, and tried to see whether he would bear -mortification; and finding that he could not, he said to him: -"Thou art like a house which is fair to the eye on the outside, -but within hath been despoiled by robbers." - - -St. Synclitica said: "As a treasure which is exposed is quickly -spent, so, also, is every virtue which is made public soon -reduced to nothing. For as wax melteth before the face of the -fire, even so doth the soul waste away with praises, and lose the -firmness of virtue." Again, she said: "As it is impossible that -the seed and shoot should exist at the same time, even so those -who enjoy the glory of this world are unable to bear heavenly -fruit." - - - -A certain brother said to Abbot Pastor: "What shall I do, for -when I sit in quiet I lose my spirits?" The old man replied, -"Neither despise nor condemn any one, nor cast obloquy upon him, -and God will give thee rest." - - - -Abbot Antony said: "There are persons who wear away their bodies -by fasting; but because they have not discretion, they are far -distant from God." - - - -A certain old man said: "If thou art ailing in body, do not lose -thy spirit; for if the Lord God desireth thee to become sick, who -art thou that thou shouldst be impatient under it? Doth he not -provide for thee in all things? Canst thou live without him? Be -patient, therefore, and beseech him to give what is expedient for -thee, that is, to do whatsoever may be his will, and to sit in -patience, eating thy bread in charity." - ------------ - -{77} - - Holy Week In Jerusalem. - - -The sacred offices of the Catholic Church, wherever celebrated, -are admirably calculated to increase devotion, and render -intelligible the different events of the ecclesiastical year. In -every land the ceremonies of the great week which ends the season -of Lent have deep interest to all the faithful, since they -portray the chief events of redemption. These annual -commemorations of the passion of Christ have, however, an added -solemnity and power in the two great cities of religion, Rome and -Jerusalem. In the first, the vicar of our Lord takes part in the -holy rites; and, in the second, the whole service is more -impressive than elsewhere; for the great events here occurred, -and the remembrance of them is made, year by year, in closest -proximity to the spot where they took place. It is hazarding -little to say, that nowhere on earth does the office for holy -week have the deep solemnity which marks it in Jerusalem, for the -reason just given. While the rubrics of the Missal and Breviary -are followed with great exactness, several things peculiar to the -place have an interest which may render a description of them -worthy of attention. - -On the morning of Palm Sunday, 1866, the writer of this sketch -went to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, to be present at the -benediction of the palms by his excellency the Patriarch of -Jerusalem. The palms, noble branches, seven feet in length, fresh -and green, are brought every year from Gaza, a little city about -eighteen miles distant. Tied in bundles of suitable size, they -were placed within the most holy sepulchre, the patriarch being -outside the sacred place until the time for sprinkling them with -holy water and incensing, when he entered for that purpose. The -benediction completed, the distribution of the palms took place, -and the long procession began. Chanting the antiphons, the clergy -and laity went twice around the sepulchre, and once around the -stone of unction, and then passed into the Latin chapel. - -The solemn Mass, to be celebrated by the patriarch, was to begin -immediately. The holy sepulchre, being about six feet square, is, -of course, much too small for that purpose, and therefore a -temporary altar of large size was promptly set up in front of the -sacred tomb. While the attendants were preparing and decorating -this, in compliance with an intimation given early in the -morning, I went into the most holy sepulchre, and offered the -Divine Sacrifice--it being the third time I had been privileged -to say Mass in that holiest of places. To me it is one of the -most memorable things in life, that this happiness should, at -such a time, have been mine--that a simple priest could say Mass -in "the new tomb of Joseph, which he had hewn out of the rock," -while the patriarch was officiating outside the sacred place. - -On Wednesday, the office of Tenebrae was said in the church. The -patriarch was present and a large number of priests, friars, -seminarians, and choir-boys, and many of the laity. The service -was very solemn, and the music good. The priests were seated in -front of the holy sepulchre, and the triangular candlestick was -placed at the right hand of the door leading to the tomb. -{78} -The chanting of the Lamentations was most impressive; and when -the words, "Jerusalem, Jerusalem, _convertere ad Dominum Deum -tuum!_" were uttered, it seemed that this plaintive entreaty -even now could be addressed with fitness to the city that once -was full of people, but is solitary, and made tributary to her -enemies. There was a wild pathos and deep earnestness in the -chant when the summons to turn to the Lord God was made, as if -the singer knew that to-day there is need for the city to listen -and obey. Jerusalem is in the power of the followers of the false -prophet of Mecca; schismatic Christians outnumber the Catholics; -the Jews know not the Lord their God; and the ways of Sion mourn. -Would that the expostulation could be heard by all, that they -might be perfectly united as a company of brethren, having the -same faith and the same worship! - -In the afternoon, the column of the flagellation of Christ was -exposed for an hour, or two, by removing the iron grating from -the front of it. As is well known, a portion of the column is in -Rome, in the church of Saint Praxede. The fragment here is only -about one foot high, and of the same diameter. It is kept in the -Latin chapel, in a recess over an altar named after it, and -cannot be seen during the year, as there is little light in the -chapel, and that comes through a window high above and nearly -over the altar. A popular devotion is to pray in front of the -column, and then touch it with a rod, about twenty inches long, -having a brass ferule or cap on the end; this ferule is kissed on -the place which had touched the stone. It being impossible to -reach the pillar by the hand through the grating, this method has -been contrived to satisfy the devotion of those who are anxious -to salute with reverence all the objects and places connected -with the passion of our Lord. On Thursday, at five o'clock, we -went down to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, as the office was -to begin early. We waited nearly an hour, in a dismal morning, -until it pleased the Turkish door-keeper to come and unlock the -portals. While standing here, among other subjects for -consideration, was the evident fact that Christians desiring to -celebrate the divine office, in the holiest week of the year, and -in the most sacred place on earth, were compelled to delay the -fulfilment of their wishes until permission had been given by a -Mohammedan. When we were admitted, the services were long, -occupying five and a half hours. The holy oils were consecrated. -At the end a procession was formed, and the blessed sacrament was -carried twice around the sepulchre, and once around the stone of -unction, and then was placed in a repository which stood in the -tomb where our Lord had lain centuries ago. - -At one o'clock, the Mandatum, or ceremony of washing the feet of -the pilgrims, was performed by his excellency the patriarch in -front of the most holy sepulchre. He gave to each of the pilgrims -a wooden cross, about seven inches long, roughly made, and having -spaces under bits of pearl for relics from the stations of the -Via Dolorosa. Of the many objects of interest brought home from -the Holy Land, there is scarcely any one valued more than this, -because of the time, place, and occasion when it was received. - -The office of the Tenebrae began at three o'clock, as on the day -before. Nothing can surpass in solemnity and deep impressiveness -the chantings of the Lamentations in this place. -{79} -The profound desolation of the soul of the prophet as he uttered -the sad words is fully expressed and realized; and the -remembrance of the calamities which have so frequently befallen -Jerusalem, and even now are her portion, gives bitterness to the -insulting demand, "Is this the city of perfect beauty, the joy of -all the earth?" - -On Good Friday the patriarch officiated again in the Church of -the Holy Sepulchre. The passion was sung on Calvary by three -chanters, one reciting the narrative by Saint John, another the -words of our Lord, while the third sung the remainder. The voice -of the priest who chanted the words of Jesus was gentle and sad, -and so like what we may imagine to have been that of our Lord, as -to become painful and oppressive. When the ejaculation, -_consummatum est_, had been made, the first chanter went to -the place where the cross had been set up on which Jesus died, -and kneeling there, in a low voice uttered the words, _et -inclinato capite, tradidit spiritum_. - -The prayers were chanted in front of the altar of the -crucifixion, which belongs to the Catholics, and is at the place -properly called of the crucifixion, as being that where our Lord -was nailed to the cross; it is to the right, and about twelve -feet from the spot where the cross was set up. The unveiling of -the cross, at the chant, "_Ecce lignum crucis_," was done -here also; and, when the crucifix was laid on the pavement in -front of the altar, it covered the stone which marks the locality -where our Lord was fastened to the tree. The veneration of the -cross at such a time and place was deeply impressive. After the -patriarch, the priests, monks, and laity, having put off their -shoes, came in their order, and kissed the feet of the image of -the Redeemer. - -Wishing to spend as much of Good Friday on Calvary as was -possible, I returned to the church in the afternoon, and sat for -a long time on the floor, leaning against the large square -pillar, within ten feet of the spot where the great oblation was -made. While there, I meditated and prayed as well as was possible -under the circumstances. For many years the Catholics have had -exclusive possession of the church during the last three days of -holy week; and accordingly, when the faithful had been admitted, -the doors were locked, and the sacred offices performed in peace, -free from the annoyance of the crowd which generally fills the -edifice. Today, however, on returning, I found the doors open, -and every one allowed free access. Many who were not Catholics -were now present, and among them were five or six English -travellers who were out sight-seeing. Accompanied by their -dragoman or interpreter, they came on Calvary, and looked around -with idle curiosity. One of them, had he been alone, would -probably have knelt down and prayed; but, being with his friends, -he only bent one knee, and bowed his head a moment at the place -where the cross had been set up. The others of the party, -evidently, did not believe this to be the spot of the -crucifixion. They were more attracted by the gold, silver, and -diamonds on the image of the Blessed Virgin, on the little altar -of the Dolors, than by anything else, and for some time admired -the brilliancy of these as a candle was held near, and talked of -them as the most interesting objects. One glance at the place -where the Lord died was enough for them; and when they went away, -it was a relief to find the chapel again occupied by those who -came to worship. People who have no faith should not visit the -Holy Land. -{80} -If they do, they derive little benefit themselves, and give great -disedification to Christians of every name. - -It was now toward the close of the day. Some persons, chiefly -Greeks, were praying on Calvary, when a Turkish officer came up, -and made signs for them to depart. Unwilling to do so, they -remained for some time, when he summoned several soldiers who, -with muskets, came up to enforce obedience to his commands. They -walked slowly around the chapel, close to the wall; and then the -people, seeing that they must go, quietly arose and descended. I -have little doubt that the church was cleared in order to prepare -for the solemn procession in the evening. Although the soldiers -behaved with as much decorum as possible, it was a sad sight for -Christians to find themselves driven from Calvary on Good Friday -by Turks, and it was the bitterest thing experienced in -Jerusalem. - -There is always a company of soldiers on duty when any service of -unusual interest takes place in the church. They are there by -request of the French Consul, who is the representative of the -European protector of the Holy Land, and are designed to preserve -order and add to the display. Although the church covers a large -area of ground, there are no spaces of great extent; and thus the -presence of men to keep order is necessary. It is recorded with -pleasure that, during a residence of two months in the holy city, -I saw no act of incivility, nor even a rude look, on the part of -the soldiers. The Greeks and Armenians, not to be excelled by -Catholics, ask for the soldiers on occasion of their solemnities; -and thus, the court of the church, and the edifice itself, are -not unfrequently occupied by the military. - -In the evening, the patriarch and clergy, with a crowd of laity, -assemble in the church for the great procession which is made but -on this day. The sacred building was filled to its utmost -capacity; but, owing to the perfect arrangements made, the long -service was gone through without the least irregularity or -embarrassment. There were seven sermons on the passion, in as -many different languages, by priests from the nations whose -vernacular they spoke. The office began in the Latin chapel, and -the first sermon, delivered with much fervor and pathos, was in -Italian. When this had been concluded, the procession was formed. -As it moved from one station to the next, verses of the Miserere -were sung. One of the Franciscan brothers, carrying a large -crucifix, led the procession, an acolyte being on either side of -him. At the place of the division of the garments of Christ, the -sermon was in Greek--at that of the mocking, in another Eastern -language. When we had climbed the stairs of Calvary, and were at -the place of crucifixion, the cross was laid on the ground, while -the sermon in German was preached. Then the crucifix was taken -from this place, where our Lord was once nailed to the wood, and -carried to that where Christ died. The sermon at this place was -in French, and was preached by the leader of the French caravan -of pilgrims, a venerable ecclesiastic. When the discourse was -finished, several priests came to take the body down from the -cross. The crown of thorns was first removed, very slowly, and -with great reverence. The nails were then tenderly drawn from the -hands; and, as each was removed, the arm of the figure, having -joints at the shoulders, was brought down to the side of the -body. The feet were, in like manner, disengaged from the nail; a -sheet passed under the arms, and the body lowered to the altar, -and laid on fine linen. -{81} -Holding the corners of this cloth, four priests slowly carried -the figure down the stairs to the stone of unction, where the -patriarch strewed myrrh over it, and sprinkled rose-water. The -sermon was now preached in Arabic by the Franciscan curate of the -Church of the Nativity, at Bethlehem, and was delivered in a most -energetic manner. Of the seven sermons preached, it was probably -the one understood by the largest number of those present. -Finally, the body was carried to the most holy sepulchre, and -laid in the same place where once reposed the Lamb of God, who -taketh away the sins of the world. Here the sermon was in -Spanish, in compliment to that nation of Catholic renown; and, -when it had been finished, the procession went to the Latin -chapel, whence it had started, and the service of the day was -over. - -It will be readily understood that the ceremony of taking down -from the cross, and carrying the image of our Lord to the tomb, -was intended to be a representation of the manner in which the -deposition took place on the day of the earth's redemption. It -was a most powerful sermon, reaching the heart through the sight. -By it we were carried back eighteen hundred years. Standing on -Calvary, we were looking on him whose arms were stretched out on -the cross, as if, in his infinite love, he would embrace all -mankind. We saw him dying that we might live, and dead that we -might be ransomed from the grave. No word was spoken, as good -Father Jucundino came with pincers to remove the crown of thorns, -which he did in such a devout manner, as to make us feel that we -were witnessing the great transaction itself. The power and -impressiveness of the whole ceremony were such as to render the -bystanders awestruck and faint. A scene like this it is -impossible to forget, and neither pencil nor words could produce -a similar result. - -On Holy Saturday I prayed a long time in the sepulchre, where our -Lord had lain, as on this day. To be on Calvary on Good Friday, -and in the Tomb on Easter eve, had been the desire of my heart. -With the realization of such a wish, any one should be content; -for he has a privilege granted to but few whose homes are distant -from the Holy Land. In the afternoon, the daily procession was -made with solemnity, the patriarch and many priests and laymen -being present. The pilgrims from Europe were also in the train. - -Easter-day was the last of my sojourn in the holy city. Many -priests wished to say Mass in the holy sepulchre, some of whom -had not yet had that privilege. I said Mass on Calvary, for the -last time, that day. During the day the shrines were visited, and -the tomb was now indeed the place of the resurrection. -"_Surrexit, non est hic._" Yes! the grave is empty, and -death hath no more power over him who was once here but is risen -and gone. We see the place where the Lord lay. His day of victory -has come, and the triumph over death and hell is complete. The -tears of the Christian are dried, and the joy of the Paschal time -begins. - --------- - -{82} - - - Nellie Netterville; - Or, One Of The Transplanted. - - - Chapter I. - -The stream which divides the county of Dublin from that of Meath -runs part of its course through a pretty, rock-strewn, -furze-blossoming valley, crowned at its western end by the ruins -of a castle, which, in the days of Cromwell, belonged to one of -the great families of the Pale--the English-Irish, as they were -usually called, in order to distinguish them from the Celtic -race, in whose land they had cast their fortunes. - -A narrow, winding path leads from the castle to the stream below, -and down this there came, one cold January morning, in the year -of the great Irish "transplantation," a young girl, wrapt in a -hooded mantle of dark cloth, which, strong as it was, seemed -barely sufficient to defend her from the heavy night fogs still -rolling through the valley, hanging rock and bush and -castle-turret in a fantastic drapery of clouds, and then falling -back upon the earth in a mist as persistent, and quite as -drenching, as an actual down-pour of rain could possibly have -proved. Following the course of the zigzag stream, as, -half-hidden in furze and bramble, it made its way eastward to the -sea, a short ten minutes' walk brought her to a low hut, (it -could hardly be called a house,) built against a jutting rock, -which formed, in all probability, the back wall of the tenement. -Here she paused, and after tapping lightly on the door, as a -signal to its inmates, she turned, and throwing back the hood -which had hitherto concealed her features, gazed sadly up and -down the valley. In spite of the fog-mists and the cold, the spot -was indeed lovely enough in itself to deserve an admiring glance, -even from one already familiar with its beauty; but in those dark -eyes, heavy, as it seemed, with unshed tears, there was far less -of admiration than of the longing, wistful gaze of one who felt -she was looking her last upon a scene she loved, and was trying, -therefore, to imprint upon her memory even the minutest of its -features. For a moment she suffered her eyes to wander thus, from -the clear, bright stream flowing rapidly at her feet to the -double line of fantastic, irregularly cut rocks which, crowned -with patches of gorse and fern, shut out the valley from the -world beyond as completely as if it had been meant to form a -separate, kingdom in itself; and then at last, slowly, and as if -by a strong and painful effort of the will, she glanced toward -the spot where the castle stood, with its tall, square towers cut -in sharp and strong relief against the gloomy background of the -sky. A "firm and fearless-looking keep" it was, as the habitation -of one who, come of an invading race, had to hold his own against -all in-comers, had need to be; but while it rose boldly from a -shoulder of out-jutting rock, like the guardian fortress of the -glen, the little village which lay nestled at its foot, the mill -which turned merrily to the music of its bright stream, the -smooth terraces and dark woods immediately around it, the rich -grazing lands, with their herds of cattle, which stretched far -away as the eye could reach beyond, all seemed to indicate that -its owner had been so long settled on the spot as to have learned -at last to look upon it rather as his rightful inheritance than -as a gift of conquest. -{83} -Castled keep and merry mill, trees and cattle and cultivated -fields, the girl seemed to take all in, in that long, mournful -gaze which she cast upon them; but the thoughts and regrets which -they forced upon her, growing in bitterness as she dwelt upon -them, became at last too strong for calm endurance, and throwing -herself down upon her knees upon the cold, damp earth, she -covered her face with both her hands, and burst into a passionate -fit of weeping. Her sobs must have roused up the inmates of the -hut; for almost immediately afterward the door was cautiously -unclosed, and an ancient dame, with a large colored handkerchief -covering her gray hairs, and tied under her chin, even as her -descendants wear it to this hour, peeped out, with an evident -resolve to see as much and be as little seen as possible in -return, by the person who had, at that undue hour, disturbed her -quiet slumbers. The moment, however, she discovered who it was -that was weeping there, all thoughts of selfish fear seemed to -vanish from her mind, and with a wild cry, in which love and -grief and sympathy were mingled, as only an Irish cry can mix -them, she flung her strong, bony arms around the girl, and -exclaimed in Irish, a language with which--we may as well, once -for all remark--the proud lords of the Pale were quite -conversant, using it not only as a medium of communication with -their Irish dependents, but by preference to English, in their -familiar intercourse with each other. For this reason, while we -endeavor to give the old lady's conversation verbatim, as far as -idiom and ideas are concerned, we have ventured to omit all the -mispronunciations and bad grammarisms which, whether on the stage -or in a novel, are rightly or wrongly considered to be the one -thing needed toward the true delineation of the Irish character, -whatever the rank or education of the individual thus put on the -scene may happen to be. - -"O my darling, my darling!" cried the old woman, almost lifting -the girl by main force from the ground; "my heart's blood, -a-cushla machree! what are you doing down there upon the damp -grass, (sure it will be the death of you, it will,) with the -morning fog wrapping round you like a curtain? Is there anything -wrong up there at the castle? or what is it all, at all, that -brings you down here before the sun has had time to say -'Good-morrow' to the tree-tops?" - -"O Grannie, Grannie!" sobbed the girl, "have you not heard? do -you not know already? It was to say good-by--I could not go -without it. Grannie! I never shall see you again--perhaps -never." - -Pity, and love, and sympathy, all beaming a moment before upon -the face of the old hag, changed as instantaneously as if by -magic, into an expression of wild hatred, worthy the features of -a conquered savage. - -"It is true, then!" she cried; "it is true what I heard last -night! what I heard--but wouldn't believe, Miss Nellie--if you -were not here to the fore to say it to me yourself! It is true -that they are for robbing the old master of his own; and that -them murdering Cromwellians--my black curse on every mother's son -of them--" - -But before she could bring her denunciation to its due -conclusion, the girl had put her hand across her mouth, and, with -terror written on every feature of her face, exclaimed: - -{84} - -"Hush, Grannie, hush? For Christ and his sweet Mother's sake, -keep quiet! Remember such words have cost many an honest man his -life ere now, and God alone can tell who may or may not be within -hearing at this moment." - -She caught the old woman by the arm as she spoke, dragging rather -than leading her into the interior of the cottage. Once there, -however, and with the door carefully closed behind her, she made -no scruple of yielding to the anguish which old Grannie's -lamentations had rather sharpened than allayed, and sitting down -upon a low settle, suffered her tears to flow in silence. Grannie -squatted herself down on the ground at her feet, and swaying her -body backward and forward after the fashion of her people, broke -out once more into vociferous lamentations over the fallen -fortunes of her darling. - -"Ochone! ochone! that the young May morning of my darling's life -(which ought to be as bright as God's dear skies above us) should -be clouded over this way like a black November's! Woe is me! woe -is me! that I should have lived to see the day when the old stock -is to be rooted out as if it was a worthless weed for the sake of -a set of beggarly rapscallions, who have only come to Ireland, -may be, because their own land (my heavy curse on it, for the -heavy hand it has ever and always laid on us!) wasn't big enough -to hold their wickedness." - -It was in perfect unconsciousness and good faith that old Grannie -thus spoke of Nellie and her family as of the old stock of the -country--a favorite expression to this day among people of her -class in Ireland. - -The English descendants of Ireland's first invaders had, in fact, -as years rolled by, and even while proudly asserting their own -claims as Englishmen, so thoroughly identified themselves both by -intermarriages and the adoption of language, dress, and manners -with the Celtic natives of the soil that the latter, ever ready, -too ready for their own interest perhaps, to be won by kindness, -had ended by transferring to them the clannish feeling once given -to their own rulers, and fought in the days we speak of under the -standard of a De Burgh or a Fitzgerald as heartily and bitterly -against Cromwell's soldiers as if an O'Neil or a MacMurrough had -led them to the combat. To Nellie Netterville, therefore, the -sympathy and indignation of old Grannie seemed quite as much a -matter of course as if the blue blood coursing through her veins -had been derived from a Celtic chieftain instead of from an old -Norman baron of the days of King Henry. Nellie was, moreover, -connected with the old woman by a tie which in those days was as -strong, and even stronger, than that of race; for the English of -the Pale had adopted in its most comprehensive sense the Irish -system of fosterage, and Grannie having acted as foster-mother to -Nellie's father, was, to all intents and purposes, as devoted to -the person of his daughter as if she had been in very deed a -grandchild of her own. - -But natural as such sympathy might have seemed, and soothing as -no doubt it was to her wounded feelings, it was yet clothed in -such dangerous language that it had an effect upon Nellie the -very opposite of that which, under any other circumstances, it -might have been expected to produce. It recalled her to the -necessity of self-possession, and conscious that she must command -her own feelings if she hoped to control those of her -warm-hearted dependent, she deliberately wiped the tears from her -eyes, and rose from the settle on which she had flung herself -only a few minutes before, in an uncontrolled agony of grief. -{85} -When she felt that she had thoroughly mastered her own emotion, -she drew old Grannie toward her, made her sit down on the stool -she herself had just vacated, and kneeling down beside her, said -in a tone of command which contrasted, oddly yet prettily enough, -with the child-like attitude assumed for the purpose of giving -it: - -"You must not say such things. Grannie. I forbid it! Now and for -ever I forbid it! You must not say such things. They can neither -help us nor save us sorrow, and they might cost your life, old -woman, if any evil-designing person heard them." - -"My life! my life!" cried old Grannie passionately. "And tell me, -acushla, what is the value of my life to me, if all that made it -pleasant to my heart is to be taken from me? Haven't I seen your -father, whom I nursed at this breast until (God pardon me!) I -loved him as well or better than them that were sent to me for my -own portion? haven't I seen him brought back here for a bloody -burial in the very flower of his days? and didn't I lead the -keening over him at the self-same moment that I knew my own poor -boy was laying stiff and stark on the battle-field, where he had -fallen (as well became him) in the defence of his own master? And -now you come and tell me that you--you who are all that is left -me in the wide world; you who have been the very pulse of my -heart ever since you were in the cradle--that you and the old -lord are to be driven out of your own kingdom, and sent, God only -knows where, into banishment--(him an old man of seventy, and you -a slip of a girl that was only yesterday, so to speak, in your -nurse's arms)--and you would have me keep quiet, would you? You'd -have me belie the thought of my heart with a smiling face? and -all for the sake of a little longer life, forsooth! Troth, -a-lannah, I have had a good taste of that same life already, and -it's not so sweet I found it, that I would go as far as the river -to fetch another sup of it. Not so sweet--not so sweet," moaned -the old woman, rocking herself backward and forward in time to -the inflection of her voice, "not so sweet for the lone widow -woman, with barely a roof above her head, and not a chick or -child (when you are out of it) for comfort or for coaxing!" - -Grannie had poured forth this harangue with all the eloquent -volubility of her Irish heart and tongue, and though Nellie had -made more than one effort for the purpose, she had hitherto found -it quite impossible to check her. Want of breath, however, -silenced her at last, and then her foster-child took advantage of -the lull in the storm to say: - -"Dear old Grannie, do not talk so sadly. I will love and think of -you every day, even in that far-off west to which we are exiled. -And I forgot to say, moreover, that my dear mother is to remain -here for some months longer, and will be ready (as she ever is) -to give help and comfort to all that need it, and to you, of -course, dear Grannie, more than to all the rest--you whom she -looks, upon almost as the mother of her dead husband." - -"Ready to give help? Ay, that in troth she is," quoth Grannie, -"God bless her for a sweet and gentle soul, that never did aught -but what was good and kind to any one ever since she came among -us, and that will be eighteen years come Christmas twelvemonth. -Ochone! but them were merry times, a-lannah! long before you were -born or thought of. -{86} -God pity you that you have burst into blossom in such weary days -as these are!" - -"Merry times? I suppose they were," said Nellie good-naturedly, -trying to lead poor Grannie's thoughts back to the good old times -when she was young and happy. "Tell me about it now, dear -Grannie, (my mother's coming home, I mean,) that I may amuse -myself by thinking it all over again, when I am far away in the -lone west, and no good old Grannie to go and have a gossip with -when I am tired of my own company." - -"Why, you see, Miss Nellie, and you mustn't be offended if I say -it," said Grannie, eagerly seizing on this new turn given to her -ideas; "we weren't too well pleased at first to hear that the -young master was to be wedded in foreign parts, and some of us -were even bold enough to ask if there weren't girls fair enough, -ay, and good enough too, for that matter, for him in Ireland, -that he must needs bring a Saxon to reign over us! However, when -the old lord up yonder at the castle, came down and told us how -she had sent him word, that for all she had the misfortune to be -English born, she meant, once she was married in Ireland, to be -more Irish than the Irish themselves, then, I promise you, every -vein in our hearts warmed toward her; and on the day of her -coming home, there wasn't, if you'll believe me, a man, woman, or -child, within ten miles of Netterville, who didn't go out to meet -her, until, what with the shouting and the hustling, she began to -think, (the creature,) as she has often told me since, that it -was going to massacre her, may be, that we were; for sure, until -the day she first saw the young master, it was nothing but tales -upon tales she had heard of how the wild Irish were worse than -the savages themselves, and how murder and robbery were as common -and as little thought of with us as daisies in the springtime. -Any way, if she thought that for a moment, she didn't think it -long; for when she faced round upon us at the castle-gates, -standing between her husband and her father-in-law, (the old lord -himself,) we gave her a cheer that might have been heard from -this to Tredagh, if the wind had set that way; and though she -didn't then understand the '_Cead-mille-failthe_ to your -ladyship!' that we were shouting in our Irish, she was cute -enough, at all events, to guess by our eyes and faces what our -tongues were saying. And that wasn't all," continued Grannie, -growing more and more garrulous as she warmed to her theme; "that -wasn't all neither; for when the people were so tired they could -shout no more, and quiet was restored, she whispered something to -the young master; and what do you think he did, my dear, but led -her right down to the place where me and my son (his own -foster-brother, that's gone, God rest him!) were standing in the -crowd, and she put out her pretty white hand and said, (it was -the first and last time that ever I liked the sound of the -English,) 'It is you, then, that was my husband's foster-mother, -isn't it?' And says I, in her own tongue, for I had picked up -English enough at the castle for that, 'Please your ladyship, I -am, and this is the boy,' says I, pulling my own boy forward--for -he was shy like, and had stepped a little backward when she came -near--'this is the boy that slept with Master Gerald' (that was -the master, you know, honey) 'on my breast.'" - -{87} - -"'Well, then,' said she, giving one hand to me and the other to -my boy, 'remember it is with my foster-brother I mean to lead out -the dancing to-night;' and troth, my pet, she was as good as her -word, and not a soul would she dance with, for all the fine lords -and gentlemen who had come to the wedding, until she had footed -it for a good half-hour at least with my Andie, Ah! them were -times indeed, my jewel," the old crone querulously wound up her -chronicle by saying. "And to think that I should have lived to -see the day when the young master's father and the master's child -are to be hunted out of their own by a Cromwellian upstart with -his 'buddagh Sassenachs,' (Saxon clowns,) like so many -bloodhounds at his heels, to ride over us roughshod." - -So far the young girl had "seriously inclined her ear" to listen, -partly to soothe old Grannie's grief by suffering it to flow -over, and partly, perhaps, because her own mind, exhausted by -present sufferings, found some unconscious relief in letting -itself be carried back to those bright days when the sun of -worldly prosperity still lighted up her home. The instant, -however, that the old woman began, with all the ferocity of a -half-tamed nature, to pour out denunciations on the foes who had -wrought her ruin, she checked the dangerous indulgence of her -feelings by saying: - -"Hush, dear Grannie, and listen to me. My mother is to stay here -until May, (so much grace they have seen fit to do us,) in order -that she may collect our stock and gather such of our people -together as may choose to follow us into exile." - -"Then, may be, she'll take me," cried old Grannie suddenly, her -withered face lightening up into an expression of hope and joy -that was touching to behold. "May be she'll take me, a-lannah!" - -Nellie Netterville eyed Grannie wistfully. Nothing, in fact, -would she have better liked than to have taken that old relic of -happier days with her to her exile; but old, decrepid, bowed down -by grief as well as years, as Grannie was, it would have been -folly, even more than cruelty, to have suffered her to offer -herself for Connaught transplantation. It would have been, -however, but a thankless office to have explained this in as many -words; so Nellie only said: "When the time comes, dear old woman, -when the time comes, it will be soon enough to talk about it -then--that is to say, if you are still able and willing for the -venture." - -"Willing enough at all events, God knows," said Grannie -earnestly. "But why not go at once with you, my darling? The -mistress _is the mistress_ surely; but blood is thicker than -water, and aren't you the child of the man that I suckled on this -bosom? Why not go at once with you?" - -"I think it is too late in the year for you--too cold--too -wretched; and besides, we are only to take one servant with us, -and of course it must be a man," said Nellie, not even feeling a -temptation to smile at the blind zeal which prompted Grannie to -offer herself, with her sixty years and her rheumatic limbs, to -the unprofitable post of bower-maiden in the wilderness. "It -would not do to alter our arrangements now," she continued -gently; "but when spring comes, we will see what can be done; and -in the mean time, you must go as often as you can to the castle, -to cheer my dear mother with a little chat. Promise me that you -will, dear Grannie, for she will be sad enough and lonely enough, -I promise you, this poor mother, and nothing will help her so -much in her desolation as to talk with you of those dear absent -ones, who well she knows are almost as precious to you as they -can be to herself. And now I must begone--I must indeed! -{88} -I could not go in peace without seeing you once more, and so I -stole out while all the rest of the world were sleeping; but now -the sun is high in the heavens, and they will be looking for me -at the castle. Good-by, dear Grannie, good-by!" - -Sobbing as if her heart would break, Nellie flung her arms round -the old woman's neck; but Grannie, with a wild cry of mingled -grief and love, slipt through her embraces and flung herself at -her feet. Nellie raised her gently, placed her once more upon the -settle, and not daring to trust herself to another word, walked -straight out of the cottage, and closed the door behind her. - - - Chapter II. - -The sun had by this time nearly penetrated through the heavy fog, -which had hung since early dawn like a vail over the valley; and -just as Nellie reached the foot of the path leading straight up -to the castle, it fairly broke through every obstacle, and cast a -gleam of wintry sunshine on her face. That face, once seen, was -not one easily to be forgotten. The features were almost, and yet -not quite, classic in their beauty, gaining in expression what -they lost in regularity; and the frequent mingling, by -intermarriages, of Celtic blood with that of her old Norman race, -had given Nellie that most especial characteristic of Irish -beauty--hair black and glossy as the raven's wing, with eyes blue -as the dark, double violet, and looking even bluer and darker -than they were by nature through the abundance of the long, -silken lashes, the same color as her hair, which fringed them. -She carried her small, beautifully-formed head with the grace and -spirit of a young antelope, and there was something of firmness -even in the elastic lightness of her movements, which gave an -idea of energy and decision not naturally to be looked for in one -so young and girlish, both as to form and feature. Her -tight-fitting robe of dark and strong material, though evidently -merely adopted for the convenience of travelling, rather set off -than detracted from the beauty of her form; and over it hung that -long, loose mantle of blue cloth which seems, time out of mind, -to have been a favorite garment with the Irish. It was fastened -at the throat by a brooch of gold, curious and valuable even then -for its evident antiquity; and with its broad, graceful folds -falling to her feet, and its hood drawn forward over her head, -and throwing her sweet, sad face somewhat into shadow, gave her -at that moment, as the sun shone down upon her, the very look and -expression of a Mater Dolorosa. - -Ten minutes' rapid walking up a path, which looked more like an -irregular staircase cut through rock and turf-mould than a way -worn gradually by the pressure of men's feet, brought her to the -platform upon which the castle stood. - -Moated and circumvallated toward the south and west, which were -easy of access from the flat lands beyond, Netterville was -comparatively defenceless on the side from whence Nellie now -approached it; its builders and inhabitants having evidently -considered the deep stream and valley which lay beneath as a -sufficient protection against their enemies. - -The great gate stood looking eastward, and Nellie could see from -the spot where she halted that all the preparations for her -approaching journey were already almost completed. A couple of -sorry-looking nags, (garrans, the Irish would have called them,) -one with a pillion firmly fixed behind the saddle, were being led -slowly up and down in readiness for their riders. -{89} -Little sorrowful groups of the Irish dependents of the family -stood here and there upon the terraces, waiting (faithful to the -last as they ever were in those days) to give one parting glance -and one sorrowful, long farewell to their deposed chieftain and -his heiress; and a little further off, like hawks hovering around -their prey, might be seen a band of those iron-handed, -iron-hearted men in whose favor the transplantation of the -present owners of the soil had been decreed, and who had been set -there, half to watch and half to enforce departure, should -anything like evasion or resistance be attempted. Something very -like an angry frown clouded Nellie's brow as she caught sight of -these men for whose benefit she was being robbed of her -inheritance; but, unwilling to indulge such evil feelings, she -suffered her gaze to pass quietly beyond them until it rested -once more on the streamlet and valley as they stretched eastward -toward the sea. Just then some one tapped her on the shoulder, -and, turning sharply round, Nellie found herself confronted by a -woman not many years older, probably, than herself, but with a -face upon which, beautiful as it was, the early indulgence of -wild passions had stamped a look of premature decay. - -"What would you with me?" said Nellie, surprised at the -familiarity of the salutation, and not in the least recognizing -the person who had been guilty of it. "I know you not. What do -you want with me?" - -"Oh! little or nothing," said the other, in a harsh and taunting -voice; "little or nothing, my fair young mistress--heiress, that -has been, of the house of Netterville--only I thought that, may -be, you could say if the old mistress will be after going with -you into exile. _They_ told me she was," she added, with a -gesture toward the soldiers; "and yet, as far as I can see, only -one of the garrans has a pillion to its back. But, may be, she'll -be for going later--" - -"I have already said," Nellie coldly answered, for she neither -liked the matter nor the manner of the woman's speech--"I have -already said that I know you not, and, in all likelihood, neither -does my mother. Why, therefore, do you ask the question?" - -"Because I _hope_ it!" said the woman, with such a look of -hatred on her face that Nellie involuntarily recoiled a -step--"because I hope it; and then perhaps, when she is houseless -and hungry herself, she will remember that cold December night -when she drove me from her door, to sleep, for all that she -cared, under the shelter of the whin-bushes in the valley." - -"If my mother, good and gentle as she is to all, ever acted as -you say she did, undoubtedly she had wise and sufficient reasons -for it," Nellie coldly answered. - -"Undoubtedly--good and sufficient reasons had she, and so, for -that matter, had I too, when I put my heavy curse upon her and -all her breed," retorted the girl, with a coarse and taunting -laugh. "And see how it has come to work," she added wildly--"see -how it has come to work! Ay, ay--she'll mind it when it is too -late, I doubt not; and will think twice before she lets loose her -Saxon pride to flout a poor body for only asking a night's -shelter under her roof. Roof! she'll soon have no roof for -herself, I guess; but if ever she has one again, she'll think -better of it, I doubt not." - -{90} - -"She will think next time just what she thought last time--that, -so long as you lead the life you lead at present, you would not, -though you were a princess, be fitting company for the lowest -scullion in her kitchen." - -Thus spoke a grave, sweet voice (not Nellie's) close at the -woman's elbow. She started, as if a wasp had stung her, and -turned toward the speaker. - -A tall lady, dressed in widow's weeds, with a pale face and eyes -weary, it almost seemed, with sorrow, had approached quietly from -behind, and overhearing the girl's defiant speech, saved Nellie -the trouble of an answer by that firm yet most womanly response. -Then passing to the front, she put her arm round Nellie's waist, -as if to protect her from the very presence of the other, and -drew her away, saying: - -"Come along, my daughter; the morning wears apace, and these long -delays do but embitter partings. Your grandfather is already -waiting. Remember, Nellie," she added in a faltering voice, "that -he, with his seventy years, will be almost as dependent upon your -strength and energy as you can be on his. He is my dead husband's -father, and therefore, after a long and bitter struggle with my -own heart, I have devoted you, my own and only treasure, to be -his best support and help and comfort in the long and -unseasonable journey to which the cruelty of our conquerors has -compelled him. I trust--I trust in God and his sweet Mother that -I shall see no cause later to repent me of this decision!" - -Nellie drew a little closer to her mother, and a strange firmness -of expression passed over her young face as she answered quietly: - -"My own unselfish mother, doubt not that I will be all--son and -daughter both in one--to him; and fear not, I do beseech you, for -our safety. What though he has seen his seventy winters, and I -but barely seventeen! We are strong and healthy, both of us; and -with clean consciences (which is more than our foes can boast of) -and good wits, I doubt not we shall reach our destination safely. -Destination!" she repeated bitterly--"ay, destination; for home, -in any sense of the word, it never can be to us." - -"Say not so, my Nellie--say not so," said her mother gently. -"Home, after all, is only the place where we garner up our -treasures; and, therefore, in the spot where I may rejoin you, -however wild and desolate it otherwise shall be, _my_ heart, -at all events, will acknowledge it has found its home!" - -As they thus conferred together, mother and daughter had been -moving slowly toward the castle, in absolute forgetfulness of the -woman who had originally made a third in the group, and who was -still following at a little distance. She stopped, however, on -discovering that they had no intention of making her a sharer in -their conversation, and, gazing after them with a fearful -mingling of hatred and wounded pride on her coarse, handsome -features, exclaimed aloud: - -"The second time you have flouted me, good madam! Well, well, the -third is the charm, and then it will be my turn. See if I do not -make you rue it!" - -Shaking her fist, as she spoke, savagely in the air, she turned -her back upon Netterville towers, and rushed down a path leading -directly to the river. - -As Mrs. Netterville and her daughter approached the castle-gates, -a young man came out to meet them, and, with a look and bearing -half-way between that of an intelligent and trusted servant and a -petted follower, said hurriedly: - -{91} - -"My lord grows impatient, madam. He says he is ready to depart at -once, and that the sooner it is done the better. And, in troth, I -am much of the same way of thinking my own self," he added, with -that sort of grim severity which some men seem almost naturally -to assume the moment they feel themselves in danger of giving way -to grief, in the womanly fashion of tears. - -Hamish was of the same age as Nellie, though he looked and felt -at least eight years older. He was her foster-brother, as we have -already said, and had been her companion in the nursery; but as -war and poverty thinned the ranks of followers attached to the -house of Netterville, he had been gradually advanced from one -post of confidence to another, until, young as he was, he united -the various duties of "bailiff" or "steward," as it would be -called in Ireland--major-domo or butler, valet, and footman, all -in his own proper person. - -"True," said Mrs. Netterville, in answer to his -communication--"too true. Every moment that he lingers now will -be but a fresh barbing of the arrow. Come, my Nellie, let us -hasten to your grandfather. Would that I could persuade him to -take Hamish with him instead of Mat, who has little strength and -less wit to help you in such a journey. I should be far more at -ease, both on his account and yours, my daughter." - -"Faix, madam, and it was just that same that I was thinking to -myself awhile ago," cried Hamish eagerly. "Sure, who has a better -right to go with Mistress Nellie than her own foster-brother? And -am not I strong enough, and more than willing enough to fight for -her--ay, and to die for her too, if any of them black-browed -hypocrites should dare for to cast their evil eyes upon her or -the old master?" - -"Strong enough and brave enough undoubtedly you are," said -Nellie, speaking before her mother could reply, "and true-hearted -more than enough, my dear foster-brother, are you; but, if only -for that very reason, you must stay here to help and comfort my -dear mother. Bethink you, Hamish, hers is, in truth, the hardest -lot of any. We shall have but to endure the weariness of long -travel; she will have to contend with the insolence of men in -high places--yes, and perhaps even to dispute with them, day by -day, and hour by hour, for that which is her rightful due and -ours. This is man's work, not woman's; and a man, moreover, -quick-witted and fearing no one. Will you not be that man, -Hamish, to stand by her against the tyrant and oppressor, and to -act for her whenever and wherever it may be impossible for her to -act for herself?" - -Hamish would have answered with a fervor equal to her own, but -Mistress Netterville prevented him by saying, with a mingling of -grief and impatience in her manner: - -"It is in vain to talk to you, Nellie! You have all your -grandfather's stiff-necked notions on this subject. Nevertheless -it would have been far more to my real contentment if he and you -had yielded to my wishes, seeing that there is many a one still -left among our dependents to whom, on a pinch, I could entrust -the care both of cattle and of household gear, and but one (and -that is Hamish) to whom willingly I would confide my child." - -"Now, may Heaven bless you for that very word, madam," cried -Hamish eagerly and gratefully; and then turning to Nellie, he -went on: "See now, Mistress Nellie, see now, when her ladyship -herself has said it--surely you would never think of going -contrary to her wishes!" - -{92} - -"Listen to me, Hamish," said Nellie, putting her hand on his -shoulder and standing still, so that her mother unconsciously -moved on without her. "Ever since that weary day when the sheriff -came here to inform us of our fate, I have had a strange, -uncomfortable foreboding that my mother will soon find herself in -even a worse plight than ours. A woman, as she will be, alone and -friendless--foemen all around her--foemen domiciled even in her -household--foemen, the worst and cruelest of any, with prayer on -their lips and hypocrisy in their hearts, and a strong sword at -their hips, ready to smite and slay, as they themselves express -it, all who oppose that wicked lusting for wealth and power which -they so blindly mistake for the promptings of a good spirit! With -us, once we have obtained our certificate from the commissioners -at Loughrea, it will be far otherwise. Each step we take in our -wild journey westward will, if, alas! it leads us further from -our friends, set, likewise, a safer distance between us and our -oppressors. Promise me, therefore, to ask no more to follow us -who go to peace and safety, but to abide quietly here, where -alone a real danger threatens. Promise me even more than this, my -foster-brother--promise to stay with her so long as ever she may -need you; and should aught of evil happen to her, which may God -avert! promise to let me know at once, that I may instantly -return and take a daughter's proper place beside her. Promise me -this, Hamish--nay, said _I promise!_--Hamish, you must -swear it!" - -"I swear it! by the Mother of Heaven and her blessed Child, I -swear it!" said Hamish fervently; for he saw at once that there -was much probability in Nellie's view of the subject, though, in -his overweening anxiety for the daughter, he had hitherto -overlooked the chances of danger to the mother. "But, Christ save -us!" he added suddenly, as some wild notes of preparation reached -his experienced ear; "Christ save us, if the old women are not -going to keen for your departure as if it were a burial!" - -"Oh! do not let them--do not let them; bid them stop if they -would not break our hearts!" cried Nellie, rushing on to overtake -her mother, while Hamish, in obedience to her wishes, struck -right across the terrace toward a distant group of women, among -whom, judging by their excited looks and gestures, he knew that -he should find the keeners. Long, however, ere he could reach -them, a wild cry of lamentation, taken up and prolonged until -every man, woman, and child within ear-shot had lent their voices -to swell the chorus, made him feel that he was too late; and -turning to ascertain the cause of this sudden outburst, he saw -that Lord Netterville had come forth from the castle, and was -standing at the open gates. A fine, soldierly-looking man he was, -counting over seventy years, yet in appearance not much more than -sixty, and as he stood there, pale and bare-headed, in the -presence of his people, a shout of such mingled love and -sympathy, grief and execration rent the air, that some of the -Cromwellian soldiers made an involuntary step forward, and -handled their muskets in expectation of an attack. - -"Tell them to stop!" cried the old man, throwing up his arms like -one who could bear his agony no longer. "For God's sake, tell -them to stop! Let them wait, at least," he added, half bitterly, -half sorrowfully, "until, like the dead, I am out of hearing." - -{93} - -There was no need for Hamish to become the interpreter of his -wishes. That sudden cry of a man's irrepressible anguish had -reached the hearts of all who heard it, and a silence fell upon -the crowd--a silence more expressive of real sympathy than their -wildest lamentations could have been. - -The old lord bowed, and tried to speak his thanks, but the words -died upon his lips, and he turned abruptly to take leave of his -daughter-in-law. She knelt to receive his blessing. He laid his -hand upon her head, and then, making an effort to command his -voice, said tenderly: - -"Fare thee well, my best and dearest! It is the way of these -canting times to be for ever quoting Scripture, and for once I -will follow fashion. May Heaven bless and keep thee, daughter; -for a very Ruth hast thou been to me in my old age; yea, and -better than seven sons in this the day of my poverty and sorrow!" - -He stooped to kiss her brow and to help her to rise, and as he -did so, he added in a whisper, meant only for the lady's ear: - -"Forgive me. Mary, if I once more allude to that subject we have -so much discussed already. Are you still in the mind to send -Nellie with me? Think better of it, I entreat you. The daughter's -place should ever, to my poor thinking, be beside her mother!" - -"I _have_ thought," she answered, "and I _have_ -decided. If Nellie is my child, she is your grandchild as well; -and the duty which her father is no longer here to tender, it -must be her pride and joy to offer you in his stead. Moreover, my -good lord," she added, in a still lower tone, "the matter hath -another aspect. Nellie will be safer with you! This place and all -it contains is even now at the mercy of a lawless soldiery, and -therefore it is no place for her. Too well I feel that even I, -her mother, am powerless to protect her." - -Lord Netterville cast a wistful glance on the fair face of his -young granddaughter, and said reluctantly: - -"It may be that you are right, sweet Moll, as you ever are. Come, -then, if so it must be, give us our good-speed, and let us hasten -on our way." - -He once more pressed her affectionately in his arms, then walked -straight up to his horse, and leaped almost without assistance to -the saddle. But his face flushed scarlet, and then grew deadly -pale, and as he shook his reins and settled himself in his seat, -it was evident to Hamish, who was holding his stirrup for him, -that he was struggling with all his might and main to bear -himself with a haughty semblance of indifference before the -English soldiery. After he was seated to his satisfaction, he -ventured a half glance around his people, and lifted his beaver -to salute them. But the effort was almost too much; the big tears -gathered in his eyes, and his hand shook so violently that he -could not replace his hat, which, escaping from his feeble grasp, -rolled under his horse's feet. Half a dozen children darted -forward to recover it, but Hamish had already picked it up and -given it to his master, who instantly put it on his head, saying, -in a tone of affected indifference: - -"Pest on these trembling fingers which so libel the stout heart -within. This comes of wine and wassail, Hamish. Drink thou water -all thy life, good youth, if thou wouldst match a sturdy heart -with a steady hand, when thy seventy years and odd are on you." - -{94} - -"Faix, my lord, will I or nill I," said Hamish, trying to fall in -with the old man's humor by speaking lightly; "will I or nill I, -it seems only too likely that water will be the best part of my -wine for some time to come; leastways," he added in a lower -voice, "leastways till your honor comes back to your own again, -and broaches us a good cask of wine to celebrate the day." - -"Back again! back again!" repeated Lord Netterville, shaking his -head with a mixture of grief and impatience impossible to -describe. "I tell thee, Hamish, that men never come back again -when they carry seventy years with them to exile. But where is my -granddaughter? Bid her come forth at once, for it's ill lingering -here with this weeping crowd around us, and yonder pestilent -group of fanatics marking out every mother's son among them, -doubtless, for future vengeance." - -Mrs. Netterville heard this impatient cry for her only child, and -flung her arms for one last passionate embrace round Nellie's -neck. Then, firm and unfaltering to the end, she led her to -Hamish, who lifted her as reverently as if she had been an -empress (as indeed she was in his thoughts) to the pillion behind -her grandfather. - -Lord Netterville barely waited until she was comfortably settled, -ere he stooped to kiss once more his daughter-in-law's uplifted -brow, after which, waving his hands toward the weeping people, he -dug his spurs deep into his horse's sides, and rode swiftly -forward. - -Then, as if moved by one common impulse, every man, woman, and -child in presence there, fell down upon their knees, mingling -prayers and blessings, and howls and imprecations, as only an -Irish or an Italian crowd can do; and yet obedient to the last to -the wishes of their departing chief, it was not until he was -well-nigh out of sight that they broke out into that wild, -wailing keen, with which they were known to accompany their loved -ones to the grave. But the wind was less considerate, and as it -unluckily set that way, it bore one or two of the long, sad notes -to him in whose honor they were chanted. As they fell upon the -old exile's ears, the stoical calmness which he had hitherto -maintained forsook him utterly; the reins fell from his hands, he -bowed his head till his white locks mingled with his horse's -mane, and, "lifting up his voice," he wept as sadly and -unrestrainedly as a woman. - - - To Be Continued. - --------- - -{95} - - The Church Review and Victor Cousin. [Footnote 31] - - [Footnote 31: _The American Quarterly Church Review_. - New York: N. S. Richardson. January, 1868. Art. ii., "O. A. - Brownson as a Philosopher. Victor Cousin and his Philosophy. - _Catholic World_."] - -The article in the _Church Review_ promises an estimate of -the character of Dr. O. A. Brownson as a philosopher; but what it -says has really no relation to that gentleman, and is simply an -attempt, not very successful, nor very brilliant indeed, to -vindicate M. Cousin's philosophy from the unfavorable judgment we -pronounced on it, in the magazine of last June. Dr. Brownson is -not the editor, nor one of the editors, of _The Catholic -World_; the article in question was signed by no name, was -impersonal, and the _Review_ has no authority for charging -its authorship to any one but ourselves, or for holding any but -ourselves responsible for its merits or demerits. When the name -of a writer is signed to an article, he should be held answerable -for its contents; but when it is not, the magazine in which it -appears is alone responsible. According to this rule, we hold the -_Church Review_ answerable for its "rasping" article against -ours. - -The main purpose of the reviewer seems to be to prove that we -wrote in nearly entire ignorance of M. Cousin's philosophy, and -to vindicate it from the very grave charges we urged against it. -As to our ignorance, as well as his knowledge, that must speak -for itself; but we can say sincerely that we should be most happy -to be proved to have been in the wrong, and to see Cousin's -philosophy cleared from the charge of being unscientific, -rationalistic, pantheistic, or repugnant to Christianity and the -church. One great name would be erased from the list of our -adversaries, and their number would be so much lessened. We -should count it a great service to the cause which is so dear to -us, if the _Church Review_ could succeed in proving that the -errors we laid to his charge are founded only in our ignorance or -philosophical ineptness, and that his system is entirely free -from them. But though it talks largely against us, assumes a high -tone, and makes strong assertions and bold denials, we cannot -discover that it has effected anything, except the exhibition of -itself in an unenviable light. It has told us nothing of Cousin -or his philosophy not to be found in our article, and has not in -a single instance convicted us of ignorance, malice, -misstatement, misrepresentation, or even inexactness. This we -shall proceed now to show, briefly as we can, but at greater -length, perhaps, than its crude statements are worth. - -The principal charges against us are: - 1. We said M. Cousin called his philosophy eclecticism; - 2. We wrongly denied scepticism to be a system of philosophy; - 3. Showed our ignorance of Cousin's doctrine in saying it - remained in psychology, never attained to the objective, or - rose to ontology; - 4. Misstated his doctrine of substance and cause; - 5. Falsely denied that he admits a nexus between the creative - substance and the created existence; - 6. Falsely asserted that he holds creation - to be necessary; - 7. Wrongly and ignorantly accused him of Pantheism; - 8. Asserted that he had but little knowledge of Catholic - theology; - 9. Accused him of denying the necessity of language to thought. - -{96} - -In preferring these charges against M. Cousin's philosophy, we -have shown our ignorance of his real doctrine, our contempt for -his express declarations, and our philosophical incapacity, and -the reviewer thinks one may search in vain through any number of -magazine articles of equal length, for one more full of errors -and fallacies than ours. This is bad, and, if true, not at all to -our credit. We shall not say as much of his article, for that -would not be courteous, and instead of saying it, prefer to let -him prove it. We objected that M. Cousin assuming that to the -operation of reason no objective reality is necessary, can never, -on his system, establish such reality; the reviewer, p. 541, -gravely asserts that we ourselves hold, that to the operations of -reason no objective reality is necessary, and can never be -established! This is charming. But are these charges true? We -propose to take them up _seriatim_, and examine the -reviewer's proofs. - -1. We said M. Cousin called his philosophical system eclecticism. -To this the reviewer replies: - - "'Eclecticism can never be a philosophy;' making, among other - arguments, the pertinent inquiry: 'How, if you know not the - truth in its unity and integrity beforehand, are you, in - studying those several systems, to determine which is the part - of truth and which of error?' - - "We beg his pardon, but M. Cousin never called his - philosophical system Eclecticism. In the introduction to the - _Vrai, Beau, et Bien_, he writes: - - "'One word as to an opinion too much accredited. Some persons - persist in representing eclecticism as the doctrine to which - they would attach my name. I declare, then, that eclecticism - is, undoubtedly, very dear to me, for it is in my eyes the - light of the history of philosophy; but the fire which supplies - this light is elsewhere. Eclecticism is one of the most - important and useful applications of the philosophy I profess, - but it is not its principle. My true doctrine, my true flag, is - spiritualism; that philosophy, as stable as it is generous, - which began with Socrates and Plato, which the gospel spread - abroad in the world, and which Descartes placed under the - severe forms of modern thought' - - "And the principles of this philosophy supply the touchstone - with which to try 'those several systems, and to determine - which is the part of truth and which of error.' Eclecticism, in - Cousin's view of it, as one might have discovered who had - 'studied his works with some care,' is something more than a - blind syncretism, destitute of principles, or a fumbling among - conflicting systems to pick out such theories as please us." - -If M. Cousin never called his philosophical system eclecticism, -why did he defend it from the objections brought on against it, -that, i. Eclecticism is a syncretism--all systems mingled -together; 2. Eclecticism approves of everything, the true and the -false, the good and the bad; 3. Eclecticism is fatalism; 4. -Eclecticism is the absence of all system? Why did he not say at -once that he did not profess eclecticism, instead of saying and -endeavoring to prove that the eclectic method is at once -philosophical and historical? [Footnote 32] - - [Footnote 32: See _Fragments Philosophiques_, t i. pp. - 39-42.] - -Everybody knows that he professed eclecticism and defended it. As -a method, do you say? Be it so. Does he not maintain, from first -to last, that a philosopher's whole system is in his method? Does -he not say, "Given a philosopher's method, we can foretell his -whole system"? And is not his whole course of the history of -philosophy based on this assumption? We wrote our article for -those who knew Cousin's writings, not for those who knew them -not. There is nothing in the passage quoted from the reviewer, -quoted from Cousin, that contradicts what we said. We did not say -that he always called philosophy eclecticism, or pretend that it -was the principle of his system. We said: - -{97} - - "There is no doubt that all schools, as all sects, have their - part of truth, as well as their part of error; for the human - mind cannot embrace pure, unmixed error any more than the will - can pure, unmixed evil; but the eclectic method is not the - method of constructing true philosophy any more than it is the - method of constructing true Christian theology. The Catholic - acknowledges willingly the truth which the several sects hold; - but he does not derive it from them, nor arrive at it by - studying their systems. He holds it independently of them; and - having it already in its unity and integrity, he is able, in - studying them, to distinguish what they have that is true from - the errors they mix up with it. It must be the same with the - philosopher. _M. Cousin was not unaware of this, and he - finally asserted eclecticism rather as a method of historical - verification, than as the real and original method of - constructing philosophy_. The name was therefore unhappily - chosen, and is now seldom heard." (_Catholic World_, p. - 335.) - -Had the reviewer read this passage, he would have seen that we -were aware of the fact that latterly Cousin ceased to profess -eclecticism save as a method of verification; and if he had read -our article through, he would have seen that we were aware that -he held spiritualism to be the principle of his system, and that -we criticised it as such. - -2. Cousin counts scepticism as a system of philosophy. We object, -and ask very pertinently, since he holds every system has a -truth, and truth is always something affirmative, positive, -"What, then, is the truth of scepticism, which is a system of -pure negation, and not only affirms nothing, but denies that any -thing can be affirmed?" Will the reviewer answer the question? - -The reviewer, of course, finds us in the wrong. Here is his -reply: - - "In the history of the progress of the human mind, the phase of - scepticism is not to be overlooked. At different periods it has - occurred, to wield a strong, sometimes a controlling, often a - salutary, influence over the thought of an age. Its work, it is - true, is destructive, and not constructive; but not the less as - a check and restraint upon fanciful speculation, and the - establishment of unsound hypotheses, it has its _raison - d'être_, and contributes, in its way, to the advancement of - truth. Nor can the works of Sextus, Pyrrho, Glanvil, Montaigne, - Gassendi, or Hume be considered less 'systematic' than those of - any dogmatist, merely from their being 'systems of pure - negation.'" (P. 533.) - -That it is sometimes reasonable and salutary to doubt, as if the -reviewer should doubt his extraordinary genius as a philosopher, -we readily admit; but what salutary influence has ever been -exerted on science or morals by any so-called system of -scepticism, which denies the possibility of science, and renders -the binding nature of virtue uncertain, we have never yet been -able to ascertain. Moreover, a system of pure negation is simply -no system at all, for it has no principle and affirms nothing. A -sceptical turn of mind is as undesirable as a credulous mind. -That the persons named, of whom only one, Pyrrho, professed -universal scepticism, and perhaps even he carried his scepticism -no farther than to doubt the reality of matter, may have rendered -some service to the cause of truth, as the drunken helotae -promoted temperance among the Spartan youth, is possible; but -they have done it by the truth they asserted, not by the doubt -they disseminated. There is, moreover, a great difference between -doubting, or suspending our judgment where we are ignorant or -where our knowledge is incomplete, and erecting doubt into the -principle of a system which assumes all knowledge to be -impossible, and that certainty is nowhere attained or attainable. -It seems, we confess, a little odd to find a Church Review taking -up the defence of scepticism. - -{98} - -3. We assert in our article that M. Cousin, though he professes -to come out of the sphere of psychology, and to rise legitimately -to ontology, remains always there; and, in point of fact, the -ontology he asserts is only an abstraction or generalization of -psychological facts. The reviewer is almost shocked at this, and -is "tempted to think that the time" we claim to have spent in -studying the works of Cousin with some care "might have been -better employed in the acquisition of some useful knowledge more -within the reach of our 'understanding.'" It is possible. But -what has he to allege against what we asserted, and think we -proved? Nothing that we can find except that Cousin professes to -attain, and perhaps believes he does attain, to real objective -existence, and, scientifically, to real ontology. But, my good -friend, that is nothing to the purpose. The question is not as to -what Cousin professes to have done, or what he has really -attempted to do, but what he has actually done. When we allege -that the being, the God asserted by Cousin, is, on his system, -his principles, and method, only an abstraction or a -generalization; you do not prove us wrong by reiterating his -assertion that it is real being, that it is the living God, for -it is, though you seem not to be aware of it, that very assertion -that is denied. We readily concede that Cousin does not -_profess_ to rise to ontology by induction from his -psychology, but we maintain that the only ontology he attains to -is simply an induction from his psychology, and therefore is, and -can be, only an abstraction or a generalization. We must here -reproduce a passage from our own article. - - "What is certain, and this is all the ontologist need assert, - or, in fact, can assert, is, that ontology is neither an - induction nor a deduction from psychological data. God is not, - and cannot be, the generalization of our own souls. But it does - not follow from this that we do not think that which is God, - and that it is from thought we do and must take it. We take it - from thought and by thinking. What is objected to in the - psychologists is the assumption that thought is a purely - psychological or subjective fact, and that from this - psychological or subjective fact we can, by way of induction, - attain to ontological truth. But as we understand M. Cousin, - and we studied his works with some care thirty or thirty-five - years ago, and had the honor of his private correspondence, - this he never pretends to do. What he claims is, that in the - analysis of consciousness we detect a class of facts or ideas - which are not psychological or subjective, but really - ontological, and do actually carry us out of the region of - psychology into that of ontology. That his account of these - facts or ideas is to be accepted as correct or adequate we do - not pretend, but that he _professes_ to recognize them and - distinguish them from purely psychological facts is undeniable. - - "The defect or error of M. Cousin on this point was in failing, - as we have already observed, to identify the absolute or - necessary ideas he detects and asserts with God, the only - _ens necessarium et reale_, and in failing to assert them - in their objectivity to the whole subject, and in presenting - them only as objective to the human personality. He never - succeeded in cutting himself wholly loose from the German - nonsense of a subjective-object or objective-subject, and when - he had clearly proved an idea to be objective to the reflective - reason and the human personality, he did not dare assert it to - be objective in relation to the whole subject. It was - impersonal, but might be in a certain sense subjective, as Kant - maintained with regard to the categories." (_Catholic - World_, PP. 335, 336.) - -The reviewer, after snubbing us for our ignorance and ineptness, -which are very great, as we are well aware and humbly confess, -replies to us in this manner: - - "And yet nothing in Cousin is clearer or more positive than - that this 'pure and sublime degree of the reason, when will, - reflection, and personality are as yet absent'--this - 'intuition and spontaneous revelation, which is the primitive - mode of reason'--is objective to the whole subject in every - _possible_ sense, and is, consequently, conformed to the - objective, and a revelation of it. - - "Can the critic have read Cousin's Lectures on Kant, 'thirty or - thirty-five years ago'? If so, we advise him to refresh his - memory by a re-perusal, and perhaps he may withdraw the strange - assertion that Cousin held an 'absolute idea to be impersonal, - but that it might be in a certain sense subjective, _as Kant - maintained with regard to the categories_.' 'The scepticism - of Kant,' says Cousin, [Footnote 33] 'rests on his finding the - laws of the reason to be subjective, personal to man; but here - is a mode of the reason where these same laws are, as it were, - deprived of all subjectivity--where the reason shows itself - almost entirely impersonal. - -{99} - - "How the critic would wish this impersonal activity to be - objective to the 'whole subject,' and not to the 'personal - only,' as if there was any greater degree of objectivity in one - case than in the other, it is not easy to see. It looks like a - distinction without a difference. The abstract and logical - distinction is apparent, but though distinct, the 'whole - subject,' and the 'human personality,' cannot be separated, so - that what is objective to one, shall not be so to the other - also. The 'whole subject' is, simply, the thinking, feeling, - willing being, which we are, as distinguished from the world - external to us. If an idea, then, is revealed to us by what is - completely foreign to us--if an act of the reason is - spontaneous and unreflective, +hat is, impersonal--what is - there that can be more objective to the subject? - - "We have said, that such an act is objective to the subject in - every _possible_ sense. For we are not to forget the - conditions of the case. 'Does one wish,' says Cousin, 'in order - to believe in the objectivity and validity of the reason, that - it should cease to make its appearance in a particular - subject--in man, for instance? But then, if reason is outside - of the subject, that is, of myself, it is nothing to me. For me - to have consciousness of it, it must descend into me, it must - make itself mine, and become in this sense subjective. A reason - which is not mine, which, in itself being entirely universal, - does not incarnate itself in some manner in my consciousness, - is for me as though it did not exist. [Footnote 34] - Consequently, to wish that the reason, in order to be - trustworthy, should cease entirely to be subjective, is to - demand an impossibility.'" (Pp. 534, 535.) - - [Footnote 33: Lecture viii.] - - [Footnote 34: Lectures on Kant, viii.] - -We have introduced this long extract in order to give our readers -a fair specimen of the reviewer's style and capacity as a -reasoner. It will be seen that the reviewer alleges, as proof -against us, what is in question--the very thing that he is to -prove. We have read Cousin's Lectures on Kant, and we know well, -and have never thought of denying, that he criticises Kant -sharply, says many admirable things against him, and professes to -reject his subjectivism; we know, also, that he holds what he -calls the impersonal reason to be objective, operating -independently of us; all this we know and so stated, we thought, -clearly enough, in our article; but we, nevertheless, maintain -that he does not make this impersonal reason really objective, -but simply independent in its operations of our personality. He -holds that reason has two modes of activity--the one personal, -the other impersonal; but he recognizes only a distinction of -modes, sometimes only a difference of degrees, making, as we have -seen, as quoted by the reviewer, the impersonal reason a sublimer -"degree" of reason than the personal. He calls the impersonal -reason the spontaneous reason, sometimes simply spontaneity. All -this is evident enough to any one at all familiar with Cousin's -philosophical writings. - -But what is this reason which operates in these two modes, -impersonal and spontaneous in the one, personal and reflective in -the other? As the distinction between the personal and impersonal -is, by Cousin's own avowal, a difference simply of modes or -degrees, there can be no entitative or substantial difference -between them. They are not two different or distinct reasons, but -one and the same reason, operating in two different modes or -degrees. Now, we demand, what is this one substantive reason -operating in these two different degrees or modes? It certainly -is not an abstraction, for abstractions are nullities and cannot -operate or act at all. What, then, is it? Is it God, or is it -man? If you say it is God, then you deny reason to man, make him -a brute, unless you identify man with God. -{100} -If you say it is man, that it is a faculty of the human soul, as -Cousin certainly does say--for he makes it our faculty and only -faculty of intelligence--then you make it subjective, since -nothing is more subjective than one's own faculties. They are the -subject itself. Consequently the impersonal reason belongs as -truly to man, the subject, as the personal reason, and therefore -is not objective, as we said, to the whole subject, but at best -only to the will and the personality--what Cousin calls _le -moi_. The most distinguished of the disciples of Cousin was -Theodore Jouffroy, who, in his confessions, nearly curses Cousin -for having seduced him from his Christian faith, whose loss he so -bitterly regretted on his dying-bed, and who was, in Cousin's -judgment, as expressed in a letter to the writer of this article, -"a true philosopher." This true philosopher and favorite disciple -of Cousin illustrates the difference between the impersonal -reason and the personal by the difference between _seeing_ -and _looking_, _hearing_ and _listening_, which -corresponds precisely to the difference noted by Leibnitz between -what he calls simple _perception_ and _apperception_. -In both cases it is the man who sees, hears, or perceives; but in -the latter case, the will intervenes and we not only see, but -look, not only perceive, but apperceive. - -Now, it is very clear, such being the case, that Cousin does not -get out of the sphere of the subject any more than does Kant, and -all the arguments he adduces against Kant, apply equally against -himself; for he recognizes no actor in thought, or what he calls -the fact of consciousness, but the subject. The fact which he -alleges, that the impersonal reason necessitates the mind, -irresistibly controls it, is no more than Kant says of his -categories, which he resolutely maintains are forms of the -subject. Hence, as Cousin charges Kant very justly with -subjectivism and scepticism, we are equally justified in -preferring the same charges against himself. This is what we -showed in the article the reviewer is criticising, and to this he -should have replied, but, unhappily, has not. He only quotes -Cousin to the effect that, "to wish the reason, in order to be -trustworthy, should cease entirely to be subjective, is to demand -an impossibility," which only confirms what we have said. - -We pursue in our article the argument still further, and add: - - "Reduced to its proper character as asserted by M. Cousin, - intuition is empirical, and stands opposed not to reflection, - but to discursion, and is simply the immediate and direct - perception of the object without the intervention of any - process, more or less elaborate, of reasoning. This is, indeed, - not an unusual sense of the word, perhaps its more common - sense, but it is a sense that renders the distinction between - intuition and reflection of no importance to M. Cousin, for it - does not carry him out of the sphere of the subject, or afford - him any basis for his ontological inductions. He has still the - question as to the objectivity and reality of the ideal to - solve, and no recognized means of solving it. His ontological - conclusions, therefore, as a writer in the _Christian - Examiner_ told him as long ago as 1836, rest simply on the - credibility of reason or faith in its trustworthiness, which - can never be established, because it is assumed that, to the - operation of reason, no objective reality is necessary, since - the object, if impersonal, may, for aught that appears, be - included in the subject." (_Catholic World_, p. 338.) - -We quote the reply of the reviewer to this at full length, for no -mortal man can abridge or condense it without losing its essence. - -{101} - - "If a man speaks thus, after a careful study of Cousin, it is - almost useless to argue with him. He either has not understood - the philosopher, or his scepticism is hopelessly obstinate. - Intuition, as asserted by Cousin, is not reduced to its proper - character, but simply misrepresented, when it is called - empirical; for it is the primitive mode of reason, and prior to - all experience. It is a revelation of the objective to the - subject, and to be a revelation must, of course, come into the - consciousness of the subject. Cousin has carefully and - repeatedly established the true character of intuition as a - disclosure to the understanding in the reason, and free from - any touch of subjectivity. _Of course, his ontological - conclusions rest on a belief in the credibility of reason, and, - of course, this credibility can never be established in a - logical way, although, metaphysically, it is abundantly - established_. One may 'assume,' to the end of time, that 'to - the operation of reason no objective reality is necessary, - since the object may, for aught that appears, be included in - the subject,' but the universal and invincible opinion of the - human race has been, and will be, to the contrary of such an - assumption. - - "As firmly as Reid and Hamilton have established the doctrine - of sensible perception, and the objective existence of the - material world, has Cousin that of the objective existence of - the absolute, and, on the very same ground, the veracity of - consciousness. And the mass of mankind have lived in happy - ignorance of any necessity for such arguments. When they sowed - and reaped, and bought and sold, they never questioned the real - existence of the objects they dealt with; _nor did they, when - the idea of duty or obligation made itself felt in their souls, - dream that, 'for such an operation of reason, no objective - reality was necessary_.' - - "Men have an unquestioning but unconquerable belief, that the - very idea of obligation implies _something outside of - them_, that obliges. Something other than itself it must be, - that commands the soul. Right is a reality, and duty a fact. - The philosophy, that does not come round to an enlightened and - intelligent holding of the unreflecting belief of mankind, but - separates itself from it, is worse than useless. In such wisdom - it is indeed 'folly to be wise.' And this philosophic folly - comes from insisting on a logical demonstration of what is - logically undemonstrable--of what is superior, because anterior - to reasoning. We cannot _prove_ to the understanding - truths which are the very basis and groundwork of that - understanding itself." (Pp. 536, 537.) - -This speaks for itself, and concedes, virtually, all we alleged -against Cousin's system; at least it convicts us of no -misapprehension or misrepresentation of that system; and the -reviewer's sneer at our ignorance and incapacity, however much -they may enliven his style and strengthen his argument, do not -seem to have been specially called for. Yet we think both he and -M. Cousin are mistaken when they assume that to demand any other -basis for science than the credibility or faith in the -trustworthiness of reason, is to demand an impossibility, for a -science founded on faith is simply no science at all. There is -science only where the mind grasps, and appropriates, not its own -faculties only, but the object itself. The reason, personal or -impersonal, is the faculty by which we grasp it, or the light by -which we behold it; not the object in which the mental action -terminates, but the medium by which we attain to the object. If -it were otherwise, there might be faith, but not science, and -though reason might search for the object, yet it would always be -pertinent to ask, Who or what vouches for reason? Descartes -answered, The veracity of God, which, in one sense, is true, but -not in the sense alleged; for on the Cartesian theory we might -ask, what vouches for the veracity of God? The only possible -answer would be, it is reason, and we should simply traverse a -circle without making the slightest advance. - -The difficulty arises from adopting the psychological method of -philosophizing, or assuming, as Descartes does in his famous -_cogito, ergo sum_, I think, therefore, I exist, that man -can think in and of himself, or without the presence and active -concurrence of that which is not himself, and which we call the -object. Intuition, on Cousin's theory, is the spontaneous -operation of reason as opposed to discursion, which is its reflex -or reflective operation, but supposes that reason suffices for -its own operation. -{102} -In his course of philosophy professed at the Faculty of Letters -in 1818, he says, in the consciousness, that is, in thought, -there are two elements, the subject and object; or, in his -barbarous dialect, _le moi et le non-moi_; but he is careful -to assert the subject as active and the object as passive. Now, a -passive object is as if it were not, and can concur in nothing -with the activity of the subject. Then, as all the activity is on -the side of the subject, the subject must be able to think in and -of itself alone. The fact that I think an existence other than -myself, on this theory, is no proof that there is really any -other existence than myself till my thought is validated, and I -have nothing but thought with which to validate thought. - -The _cogito, ergo sum_ is, of course, worthless as an -argument, as has often been shown; but there is in it an -assumption not generally noted; namely, that man suffices for his -own thought, and, therefore, that man is God. God alone suffices, -or can suffice, for his own thought, and needs nothing but -himself for his thought or his science. He knows himself in -himself, and is in himself the infinite Intelligibile, and the -infinite Intelligens. He knows in himself all his works, from -beginning to end, for he has made them, and all events, for he -has decreed them. There is for him no medium of science -distinguishable from himself; for he is, as the theologians say, -the adequate object of his own intelligence. But man being a -creature, and therefore dependent for his existence, his life, -and all his operations, interior and exterior, on the support and -active concurrence of that which is not himself, does not and -cannot suffice for his thought, and he does not and cannot think -in and of himself alone, in any manner, mode, form, or degree, or -without the active presence and concurrence of the object, as -Pierre Leroux has well shown in his otherwise very objectionable -_Réfutation de l'Eclecticisme._ The object being independent -of the subject, and not supplied by the subject, must exist _a -parte rei_, since, if it did not, it could not actually concur -with the subject in the production of thought. There can arise, -therefore, to the true philosopher, no question as to the -credibility or trustworthiness of reason, the validity or -invalidity of thought. The only question for him is, Do we think? -What do we think? He who thinks, knows that he thinks, and what -he thinks, for thought is science, and who knows, knows that he -knows, and what he knows. - -The difficulty which Cousin and the reviewer encounter arises -from thus placing the question of method before the question of -principles, as we showed in our former article. No such -difficulty can arise in the path of him who has settled the -question of principles--which are given, not found, or obtained -by the action of the subject without them--and follows the method -they prescribe. The error, we repeat, arises from the -psychological method, which supposes all the activity in thought -is in the subject, and supposes reason to be operative in and of -itself, or without any objective reality, which reality, on -Cousin's system, or by the psychological method, can never be -established. - -The reviewer concedes that objective reality cannot be -established _in a logical way_, but maintains that there is -no need of so establishing it; for "men have an unquestioning, an -unconquerable _belief_ that the very idea of obligation -implies something outside of them." Nobody denies the belief, but -its validity is precisely the matter in question. -{103} -How do you prove the validity of the idea of obligation? But the -reviewer forgets that Cousin makes it the precise end of -philosophy to legitimate this belief, and all the universal -beliefs of mankind, and convert them from beliefs into science. -How can philosophy do this, if obliged to support itself on these -very beliefs? - -The reviewer follows the last passage with a bit of philosophy of -his own; but, as it has no relevancy to the matter in hand, and -is, withal, a little too transcendental for our taste, he must -excuse us for declining to discuss it. We cannot accept it, for -we cannot accept what we do not understand, and it professes to -be above all understanding. In fact, the reviewer seems to have a -very low opinion of understanding, and no little contempt for -logic. He reminds us of a friend we once had, who said to us, one -day, that if he trusted his understanding and followed his logic -he should go to Rome; but, as neither logic nor understanding is -trustworthy or of any account, he should join the Anglican -Church, which he incontinently did, and since, we doubt not, -found himself at home. Can it be that he is the writer of the -article criticising us? - -The reviewer, in favoring us with this bit of philosophy of his -own, tells us, in support of it, that Sir William Hamilton says, -"All thinking is negation." So much the worse, then, for Sir -William Hamilton. All thinking is affirmative, and pure negation -can neither think nor be thought. Every thought is a judgment, -and affirms both the subject thinking and the object thought, and -their relation to each other. This, at least sometimes, is the -doctrine of Cousin, as any one may ascertain by reading his -essays, _Du Fait de Conscience_ and _Du Premier et du -dernier Fait de Conscience_. [Footnote 35] Though even in -these essays the doctrine is mixed up with much that is -objectionable, and which leads one, after all, to doubt if the -philosopher ever clearly perceived the fact, or the bearing of -the fact, he asserted. Cousin often sails along near the coast of -truth, sometimes almost rubs his bark against it, without -perceiving it. But we hasten on. - - [Footnote 35: _Fragments Philosophiques_, t. i. pp. 248, - 256.] - -4. We are accused of misstating Cousin's doctrine of substance -and cause. Here is our statement and the reviewer's charge: - - "'M. Cousin,' continues _The Catholic World_, 'professes - to have reduced the categories of Kant and Aristotle to - two--substance and cause; but as he in fact identifies cause - with substance, declaring substance to be substance _only in - so much_ [the italics are ours] as it is cause, and cause to - be cause _only in so much_ as it is substance, he really - reduces them to the single category of substance, which you may - call, indifferently, substance or cause. But, though every - substance is intrinsically and essentially a cause, yet, as it - _may be something more_ than a cause, it is not necessary - to insist on this, and it may be admitted that he recognized - two categories.' - - "What is exactly meant by these two contradictory statements it - is not easy to guess; but let Cousin speak for himself: - [Footnote 36] - - [Footnote 36: VI. Lecture, Course of 1818, on the Absolute.] - - "'Previous to Leibnitz, these two ideas seemed separated in - modern philosophy by an impassable barrier. He, the first to - sound the nature of the idea of substance, brought it back to - the notion of force. This was the foundation of all his - philosophy, and of what afterward became the Monadology. ... - But has Leibnitz, in identifying the notion of substance with - that of cause, presented it with justness? Certainly, substance - is revealed to us by cause; for, suppress all exercise of the - cause and force which is in ourselves, and we do not exist to - ourselves. It is, then, the idea of cause which introduces into - the mind the idea of substance. But is substance nothing more - than cause which manifests it? .... The causative power is the - essential attribute of substance; it is not substance itself. - In a word, it has seemed to us surer to hold to these two - primitive notions; distinct, though inseparably united; one, - which is the sign and manifestation of the other, this, which - is the root and foundation of that.' - -{104} - - "One would think this sufficiently explicit for all who are not - afflicted with the blindness that will not see." (P. 539.) - -We see no self-contradiction in our statement, and no -contradiction of M. Cousin. We maintain that M. Cousin really, -though probably not intentionally or consciously, reduces the -categories of Kant and Aristotle to the single category of -substance, and prove it by the words italicized by the reviewer, -which are our translation of Cousin's own words. Cousin says, in -his own language, in a well-known passage in the first preface of -his _Fragments Philosophiques_, "Le Dieu de la conscience -n'est pas un Dieu abstrait, un roi solitaire, rélegué pardelà la -création sur le trône desert d'une éternité silencieuse, et d'une -existence absolue qui ressemble au néant même de l'existence: -c'est un Dieu à la fois vrai et réel, à la fois substance et -cause, toujours substance et toujours cause, _n'étant substance -qu'en tant que cause, et cause qu'en tant que substance_, -c'est-à-dire, étant cause absolue, un et plusieurs, éternité et -temps, espace et nombre, essence et vie, indivisibilité et -totalité, principe, fin, et milieu, au sommet de l'être et à son -plus humble degré, infini et fini, tout ensemble, triple enfin, -c'est-à-dire, à la fois Dieu, nature, et humanité. En effet, -_si Dieu n'est pas tout il n'est rien._" [Footnote 37] This -passage justifies our first statement, because Cousin calls God -substance, the one, absolute substance, besides which there is no -substance. But as our purpose, at the moment, was not so much to -show that Cousin made substance and cause identical, as it was to -show that he made substance a necessary cause, we allowed, for -reasons which he himself gives in the passage cited by the -reviewer from his course of 1818 on the Absolute, that he might -be said to distinguish them, and to have reduced the categories -to two, instead of one only, as he professes to have done. But -the reviewer hardly needs to be told that, when it is assumed -that substance is cause only on condition of causing, that is, -causing from the necessity of its own being, the effect is not -substantially distinguishable from the substance causing, and is -only a mode or affection of the causative substance itself, or, -at best, a phenomenon. - - [Footnote 37: _Fragments Philosophiques_, t. i. p. 76.] - -5. Accepting substance and cause as two categories, we contend -that Cousin requires a third; namely, the creative act of the -causative substance, and contingent existences, as asserted in -the ideal formula. _Ens creat existentias_. To this the -reviewer cites, from Cousin, the following passage in reply: - - "In the fifth lecture of the course of 1828, M. Cousin says: - - "'The two terms of this so comprehensive formula do not - constitute a dualism, in which the first term is on one side - and the second on the other, without any other connection - between them than that of being perceived at the same time by - the intelligence; so far from this, the tie which binds them is - essential. It is a connection of _generation_ which draws - the second from the first, and constantly carries it back to - it, and which, with the two terms, constitutes the _three_ - integrant elements of intelligence. ... Withdraw this relation - which binds variety to unity, and you destroy the necessary - bond of the two terms of every proposition. These three terms, - distinct, but inseparable, constitute at once a triplicity and - an indivisible unity. ... Carried into Theodicy, the theory I - have explained to you is nothing less than the very foundation - of Christianity. The Christians' God is at once triple and one, - and the animadversions which rise against the doctrine I teach - ought to ascend to the Christian Trinity.'" (P. 540.) - -{105} - -We said in our article, "Under the head of substances he (Cousin) -ranges all that is substantial or that pertains to real and -necessary being, and under the head of cause the phenomenal or -the effects of the causative action of substance. He says he -understands, by substance, the universal and absolute substance, -the real and necessary being of the theologians; and by -phenomena, not mere modes or appearances of substance, but finite -and relative substances, and calls them phenomena only in -opposition to the one absolute substance. They are created or -produced by the causative action of substance. [Footnote 38] If -this has any real meaning, he should recognize three categories -as in the ideal formula, _Ens creat existentias_, that is, -Being, existences, or creatures, and the creative act of being, -the real nexus between substance or being and contingent -existences, for it is that which places them and binds them to -the Creator." - - [Footnote 38: _Fragments Philosophiques_, t i. pp. xix. - xx.] - -The passage cited by the reviewer from Cousin is brought forward, -we suppose, to show that it does recognize this third category; -but if so, what becomes of the formal statement that he has -reduced the categories to _two_, substance and cause, or, as -he sometimes says, substance or being and phenomenon? Besides, -the passage cited does not recognize the third term or category -of the formula. It asserts not the _creative_ act of being -as the _nexus_ between substance and phenomenon, the -infinite and the finite, the absolute and the relative, etc.; but -_generation_, which is a very different thing, for the -generated is consubstantial with the generator. - -6. We were arguing against Cousin's doctrine, that God, being -intrinsically active, or, as Aristotle and the schoolmen say, -_actus purissimus_, most pure act, must therefore -necessarily create or produce exteriorly. In prosecuting the -argument, we anticipated an objection which, perhaps, some might -be disposed to bring from Leibnitz's definition of substance, as -a _vis activa_, and endeavored to show that, even accepting -that definition, it would make nothing in favor of the doctrine -we were refuting, and which Cousin undeniably maintains. We say, -"The doctrine that substance is essentially cause, and must, from -intrinsic necessity, cause in the sense of creating, is not -tenable. We are aware that Leibnitz, a great name in philosophy, -defines substance to be an active force, a _vis activa_, but -we do not recollect that he anywhere pretends that its activity -necessarily extends beyond itself. God is _vis activa_, if -you will, in a supereminent degree; he is essentially active, and -would be neither being nor substance if he were not; he is, as -Aristotle and the schoolmen say, most pure act; ... but nothing -in this implies that he must necessarily act _ad extra_, or -create. He acts eternally from the necessity of his own divine -nature, but not necessarily out of the circle of his infinite -being, for he is complete in himself, is in himself the plenitude -of being, and always and everywhere suffices for himself, and -therefore for his own activity. Creation, or the production of -effects exterior to himself, is not necessary to the perfection -of his activity, adds nothing to him, as it can take nothing from -him. Hence, though we cannot conceive of him without conceiving -him as infinitely, eternally, and essentially active, we can -conceive of him as absolute substance or being, without -conceiving him to be necessarily acting or creating _ad -extra_." - -{106} - -The reviewer says, sneeringly, "This is the most remarkable -passage in this remarkable article." He comments on it in this -manner: - - "Thus appearing to accept the now exploded Leibnitzian theory, - which Cousin has combated both in its original form, and as - maintained by De Biran, our critic tries to escape from it by - this subtle distinction between the southern and south-eastern - sides of the hair. He enlarges upon it. God, according to him, - is indeed _vis activa_ in the most eminent degree, but - this does not imply that he must act _ad extra_, or - create. He acts eternally from the necessity of his nature, but - not necessarily out of the circle of his own infinite being. - Hence, though we cannot conceive of him but as infinitely and - essentially active, we can conceive of him as absolute - substance without conceiving him to be necessarily creating, or - acting _ad extra_. M. Cousin, he says, evidently confounds - the interior acts of the divine being with his exterior or - creative acts. - - "We have no wish to deny that he does make such a confusion. To - one who holds that 'to the operation of reason no objective - reality is necessary, and that such reality can never be - established,' this kind of subjective activity of the will, - which seems so nearly to resemble passivity--these pure acts, - or volitions, which never pass out of the sphere of the will - into causation--may be satisfactory; but to one who believes - that God is not a scholastic abstraction--to one who worships - the 'living God' of the Scriptures--it will sound like a - pitiful jugglery with words thinly veiling a lamentable - confusion of ideas. God is a person, and he acts as a person. - The divine will is no otherwise conceivable by us than as of - the same nature as man's will; it differs from it only in the - mode of its operation--for with him this is always immediate, - and no deliberation or choice is possible--and it is as absurd - to speak of the activity of his will, the eminently active - force, never extending 'out of the circle of his own infinite - being,' as it would be to call a man eminently an active person - whose activity was all merely purpose or volition, never - passing into the creative act _ad extra_, or out of the - circle of his own finite being. - - "If St. Anselm is right, that, to be _in re_ is greater - than to be _in intellectu_, then has the creature man, - according to the critic, a higher faculty than his Creator - _essentially and necessarily_ has. For his will is by - nature causative, creative, productive _ad extra_, and it - is nothing unless its activity be called forth into act - external to his personality, while the pure acts of the divine - will may remain for ever enclosed in the circle of the divine - consciousness without realizing themselves _ad extra_!" - (Pp. 540, 541.) - -We do not like to tell a man to his face, especially when he -assumes the lofty airs and makes the large pretensions of our -reviewer, that he does not know what he is talking about, or -understand the ordinary terms and distinctions of the science he -professes to have mastered, for that, in our judgment, would be -uncivil; but what better is to be said of the philosopher who -sees nothing more in the distinction between the divine act _ad -intra_, whence the eternal generation of the Son and the -eternal procession of the Holy Ghost, and the divine act _ad -extra_, whence man and nature, the universe, and all things -visible and invisible, distinguishable from the one necessary, -universal, immutable, and eternal being, than in "the distinction -between the southern and south-eastern sides of the hair"? The -Episcopalian journals were right in calling the _Church -Review's_ criticism on us "racy," "rasping," "scathing;" it is -certainly astounding, such as no mortal man could foresee, or be -prepared to answer to the satisfaction of its author. - -In the passage reproduced from ourselves we neither accept nor -reject the definition of substance given by Leibnitz, nor do we -say that Cousin accepts it, although he certainly favors it in -his introduction to the _Posthumous Works of Maine de -Biran_, and adduces the fact of his having adopted it in his -defence against the charge of pantheism, [Footnote 39] but simply -argue that, if any one should adopt it and urge it as an argument -for Cousin, it would be of no avail, because Leibnitz does not -pretend that substance is or must be active outside of itself, or -out of its own interior, that is, must be creative of exterior -effects. This is our argument, and it must go for what it is -worth. - - [Footnote 39: _Fragments Philosophiques_, t i. p. xxi.] - -{107} - -We admit that in some sense God may be a _vis activa_, but -we show almost immediately that it is in the sense that he is -most pure act, that is, in the sense opposed to the _potentia -nuda_ of the schoolmen, and means that God is _in actu_ -most perfect being, and that nothing in his being is potential, -in need of being filled up or actualized. When we speak of his -activity, within the circle of his own being, we refer to the -fact that he is living God, therefore, Triune, Father, Son, and -Holy Ghost. As all life is active, not passive, we mean to imply -that his life is in himself, and that he can and does eternally -and necessarily live, and in the very fulness of life in himself; -and therefore nothing is wanting to his infinite and perfect -activity and beatitude in himself, or without anything but -himself. This is so because he is Trinity, three equal persons in -one essence, and therefore he has no need of anything but -himself; nothing in his being or nature necessitates him to act -_ad extra_, that is, create existences distinct from -himself. Does the reviewer understand us now? He is an -Episcopalian, and believes, or professes to believe, in the -Trinity, and, therefore, in the eternal generation of the Son, -and the eternal procession of the Holy Ghost. Do not this -generation and this procession imply action? Action assuredly and -necessarily, and eternal action too, because they are necessary -in the very essence or being of God, and he could not be -otherwise than three persons in one God, if, _per -impossibile_, he would. The unity of essence and trinity of -persons do not depend on the divine will, but on the divine -nature. Well, is this eternal action of generation and procession -_ad intra_, or _ad extra?_ Is the distinction of three -persons a distinction _from_ God, or a distinction _in_ -God? Are we here making a distinction as frivolous as that -"between the southern and south-eastern sides of a hair"? Do you -not know the importance of the distinction? Think a moment, my -good friend. If you say the distinction is a distinction -_from_ God, you deny the divine unity--assert three Gods; if -you say it is a distinction in God, you simply assert one God in -three persons, or three persons in one God, or one divine -essence. If you deny both, your God is a dead unity in himself, -not a living God. - -The action of God _ad intra_ is necessary, proceeds from the -fulness of the divine nature, and the result is the generation of -the Son and the procession of the Holy Ghost. Now, can you -understand what would be the consequence, if we made the action -of God _ad extra_, or creation, proceed from the necessity -of the divine nature? The first consequence would be that -creation is God, for what proceeds from God by the necessity of -his own nature is God, as the Arian controversy long ago taught -the world. The second consequence would be that God is incomplete -in himself, and has need to operate without, in order to complete -himself, which really denies God, and therefore creation, -everything, which is really the doctrine of Cousin, namely, God -completes himself in his works. Can you understand now, dear -reviewer, why we so strenuously deny that God creates or produces -existences distinguishable from himself, through necessity? -Cousin says that God creates from the intrinsic necessity of his -own nature, that creation is necessary. You say he has retracted -the expression. Be it so. -{108} -But, with all deference, we assert that he has not retracted or -explained away his doctrine, for it runs through his whole -system; and as he nowhere makes the distinction between action -_ad intra_ and action _ad extra_, his very assertion -that God is substance only in that he is cause, and cause only in -that he is substance, implies the doctrine that God, if substance -at all, cannot but create, or manifest himself without, or -develop externally. What say we? Even the reviewer sneers at the -distinction we have made, and at the efforts of theologians to -save the freedom of God in creating. Thus, in the paragraph -immediately succeeding our last extract, he says, "But all this -quibbling comes from an ignorant terror, lest God's free-will -should be attacked." The reviewer, on the page following, admits -all we asserted, and falls himself, blindfold, as it were, into -the very error he contends we falsely charge to the account of -Cousin. "The necessity he (Cousin) speaks of is a metaphysical -necessity, which no more destroys the free-will of God, than the -metaphysical necessity of doing right, that is, obligation, -destroys man's free-will." [Footnote 40] (P. 542.) - - [Footnote 40: The reviewer, misled by the evasive answer of - Cousin, supposes the objection urged against his doctrine, - that creation is necessary, is, that it destroys the - free-will of God; but that, though a grave objection, is not - the one we insisted on; the real objection is, that if God is - assumed to create from the necessity of his own nature, he is - assumed not to create at all, for what is called his creation - can be only an evolution or development of himself, and - consequently producing nothing distinguishable in substance - from himself, which is pure pantheism. Of course, all - pantheism implies fatalism, for if we deny free-will in the - cause, we must deny it in the effect; but it is not to escape - fatalism, but pantheism that Cousin's doctrine of necessary - Creation is denied, as we pointed out in our former article.] - -_Metaphysical_ necessity, according to the reviewer, p. 537, -means real necessity, since he says, "Metaphysics is the science -of the real," and therefore God is under a real necessity of -creating. Yet it is to misrepresent Cousin to say that, according -to him, creation is necessary! But assume that, by -_metaphysical_, the reviewer means _moral_; then God is -under a moral necessity, that is, morally bound to create, and -consequently would sin if he did not. But we have more yet, in -the same paragraph: "A power essentially creative _cannot but -create._" Agreed. But to assert that God is essentially -creative, is to assert that he is necessary creator, and that -creation is necessary, for God cannot change his essence or belie -it in his act. But this assertion of God as essentially creative, -is precisely what we objected to in Cousin, and therefore, while -asserting that God is infinitely and essentially _active_ in -his own being, we denied that he is essentially _creative_. -He is free in his own nature to create or not, as he pleases. The -reviewer does not seem to make much progress in defending Cousin -against our criticisms. - -7. That Cousin was knowingly and intentionally a pantheist, we -have never pretended, but have given it as our belief that he was -not. We do not think that he ever comprehended the essential -principle of pantheism, or foresaw all the logical consequences -of the principles he himself adopted and defended. But his -doctrine, notwithstanding all his protests to the contrary, is -undeniably pantheism, if any doctrine ever deserved to be called -by that name. It is found not here and there in an incidental -phrase, but is integral; enters into the very substance and -marrow of his thought, and pervades all his writings. We felt it -when we attempted to follow him as our master, and had the -greatest difficulty in the world to give him a non-pantheistic -sense, and never succeeded to our own satisfaction in doing it. - -{109} - -Cousin's pantheism follows necessarily from two doctrines that -he, from first to last, maintains. First, there is only one -substance. Second, Creation is necessary. He says in the -_Avertissement_ to the third edition of his _Philosophical -Fragments_ that he only in rare passages speaks of substance -as one, and one only, and when he does so, he uses the word, not -in its ordinary sense, but in the sense of Plato, of the most -illustrious doctors of the church, and of the Holy Scripture in -that sublime word, I AM that I AM; that is, in the sense of -eternal, necessary, and self-existent Being. But this is not the -case. The passages in which he asserts there is and can be only -one substance, are not rare, but frequent, and to understand it -in any of these passages in any but its ordinary sense, would -make him write nonsense. He repeats a hundred times that there -is, and can be, only one substance, and says, expressly, that -substance is one or there is no substance, and that relative -substances contradict and destroy the very idea of substance. He -is talking, he says in his defence, of absolute substance. Be it -so; interpret him accordingly. "Besides the one only absolute -substance, there is and can be no substance, that is, no other -one only absolute substance." Think you M. Cousin writes in that -fashion? But we fully discussed this matter in our former -article, and as the reviewer discreetly refrains from even -attempting to show that we unjustly accused him of maintaining -that there is and can be but one substance, we need not attempt -any additional proof. The second doctrine, that creation is -necessary, the reviewer concedes and asserts, "In Cousin, as we -have attempted to explain, creation is not only possible, but -NECESSARY," repeating Cousin's own words. - - "As to Cousin's pantheism, if any one is disposed to believe - that the systems of Spinoza and of Cousin have anything in - common, we can only recommend to him a diligent study of both - writers, freedom from prejudice, and a distrust of his own - hastily formed opinions. It is too large a question to enter - upon here, but we would like to ask the critic how he - reconciles the two philosophers on the great question he last - considered--the creation. In Spinoza, there is no creation. The - universe is only the various modes and attributes of substance, - subsisting with it from eternity in a necessary relation. In - Cousin, creation, as we have attempted to explain, is 'not only - possible but necessary.' The relation between the universe and - the supreme Substance is not a necessary relation of substance - and attribute, but a contingent relation of cause and effect, - produced by a creative fiat." (P. 545.) - -A necessitated creation is no proper creation at all. And Cousin -denies that God does or can create from nothing; says God creates -out of his own fulness, that the stuff of creation is his own -substance, and time and again resolves what he calls creation -into evolution or development, and makes the relation between the -infinite and the finite, as we have seen, not that of -_creation_, but that of _generation_, which is only -development or explication. He also denies that individuals are -substances, and says they have their substance in the one -absolute substance. Let the reviewer read the preface to the -first edition of the _Fragments_, reproduced without change -in subsequent editions, and he will find enough more passages to -the same effect, two at least in which he asserts that finite -substances, not being able to exist in themselves without -something beyond themselves, are very much like phenomena; and -his very pretension is, that he has reduced the categories of -Kant and Aristotle to two, substance or being, and phenomenon. - -Now, the essential principle of pantheism is the assertion of one -only substance and the denial of all finite substances. -{110} -It is not necessary, in order to be a pantheist, to maintain that -the apparent universe is an eternal mode or attribute of the one -only substance, as Spinoza does; for pantheism may even assert -the creation of modes and phenomena, which are perishable; its -essence is in the assertion of one only substance, which is the -ground or reality of all things, as Cousin maintains, and in -denying the creation of finite substances, that can act or -operate as second causes. Cousin, in his doctrine, does not -escape pantheism, and we repeat, that he is as decided a -pantheist as was Spinoza, though not precisely of the same -school. - -The reviewer says, p. 544, "We proceed to another specimen of the -critic's accuracy; 'M. Cousin says pantheism is the divinization -of nature, taken in its totality as God, But this is sheer -atheism.'" Are we wrong? Here is what Cousin says in his own -language: "Le panthéism est _proprement_ la divinisation du -tout, le grand tout donné comme Dieu, l'universe Dieu de la -plupart de mes adversaires, de Saint-Simon, par example. C'est au -fond un veritable athéisme." [Footnote 41] If he elsewhere gives -a different definition, that is the reviewer's affair, not ours. -We never pretended that Cousin never contradicts himself, or -undertook to reconcile him with himself; but the reviewer should -not be over-hasty in charging inaccuracy, misrepresentation, or -ignorance where none is evident. He may be caught himself. The -reviewer stares at us for saying Cousin's "exposition of the -Alexandrian philosophy is a marvel of misapprehension." Can the -reviewer say it is not? Has he studied that philosophy? We -repeat, it is a marvel of misapprehension, both of Christian -theology and of that philosophy itself. The Neoplatonists were -pantheists and emanationists, and Cousin says the creation they -asserted was a creation proper. Let that suffice to save us from -the scathing lash of the reviewer. - - [Footnote 41: _Fragments Philosophiques_, t i. pp. 18, - 19.] - -8. We said, in our article, "It was a great misfortune for M. -Cousin that what little he knew of Catholic theology, caught up, -apparently, at second hand, served only to mislead him. The great -controversies on Catholic dogmas have enlightened the darkest -passages of psychology and ontology, and placed the Catholic -theologian on a vantage-ground of which they who know it not are -incapable of conceiving. Before him your Descartes, Spinozas, -Kants, Fichtes, Hegels, and Cousins dwindle into pigmies." The -reviewer replies to this: - - "This is something new indeed, and we think the great Gallican - churchmen of the seventeenth century, whom Cousin understood so - intimately, and for whom he had so sincere an admiration, would - be the last to claim an exclusive vantage-ground from their - knowledge of the controversies on Catholic dogma. For these - men, alike of the Oratory and of Port Royal, were Cartesians, - and their faith was interwoven with their philosophy; it was - not in opposition to it. And they knew that that philosophy was - based upon a thorough understanding of the great 'controversies - on Catholic dogma,' which had been carried on in the schools by - laymen as well as by ecclesiastics. - - "But who is the Romish theologian the critic refers to, and how - is it he makes so little use of his 'vantage-ground'? Since - Descartes brought modern philosophy into being by its final - secularization, we do not recollect any theologian so eminent - that all the great men he has named dwindle into pigmies before - him. Unless, indeed, this should take place from their being so - far out of the worthy man's sight and comprehension, as to be - 'dwarfed by the distance,' as Coleridge says." (Pp. 546, 547.) - -{111} - -We referred to no _Romish_ theologian in particular; but if -the reviewer wants names, we give him the names of St. Augustine, -St. Gregory the Great, St. Anselm, St. Bonaventura, St. Thomas of -Aquino, Fonseca, Suarez, Malebranche, even Cardinal Gerdll, and -Gioberti, the last, in fact, a contemporary of Cousin, whose -_Considerazioni sopra le dottrine del Cousin_ prove his -immense superiority over him, and of the others named with him. -Cousin may have admired the great Gallican churchmen of the -seventeenth century, but intimately understand them as -theologians, he did not, if we may judge from his writings; -moreover, all the great churchmen of that century were not -Frenchmen. As great, if not greater, were found among Italians, -Spaniards, Poles, and Germans, though less known to the -Protestant world. Has the reviewer forgotten, or has he never -known, the great men that in the sixteenth and seventeenth -centuries flourished in the great religious orders, the -Dominicans, Franciscans, the Augustinians, and especially the -Jesuits--men whose learning, genius, and ability were surpassed -only by their humility and sanctity? - -But we spoke not of Cousin's little knowledge of churchmen, but -of his little knowledge of Catholic theology. The reviewer here, -probably, is not a competent judge, not being himself a Catholic -theologian, and being comparatively a stranger to Catholic -theology; but we will accept even his judgment in the case. -Cousin denies that there is anything in his philosophy not in -consonance with Christianity and the church; he denies that his -philosophy impugns the dogma of the Word or the Trinity, and -challenges proof to the contrary. Yet what does the reviewer -think of Cousin's resolution of the Trinity, as cited some pages -back, in his own language, into God, nature, and humanity? He -says God is triple. _"Cest-à-dire, à la fois Dieu, nature, et -humanité."_ Is that in consonance with Catholic theology? - -Then, of the Word, after having proved in his way that the ideas -of the true, the beautiful, and the good are necessary and -absolute ideas, and identified them with the impersonal reason, -and the impersonal reason with the Logos, he asks what then? Are -they God? No, gentlemen, they are not God, he answers, but the -Word of God, thus plainly denying the Word of God to be God. Does -that prove he knew intimately Catholic theology? What says the -reviewer of Cousin's doctrine of inspiration and revelation? That -doctrine is, that inspiration and revelation are the spontaneous -operations of the impersonal reason as distinguished from the -reflective operations of the personal reason, which is pure -rationalism. Is that Catholic theology, or does it indicate much -knowledge of Catholic theology, to say it is in consonance with -that theology? - -In his criticism on the Alexandrians or Neoplatonists, he blames -them for representing the multiple, the finite, what they call -creation, as a fall, and for not placing them on the same line -with unity, the infinite, or God considered in himself. Is that -in accordance with Catholicity, or is it a proof of his knowledge -of Catholic theology to assert that it is, and to challenge the -world to prove the contrary? But enough. No Catholic theologian, -not dazzled by Cousin's style, or carried away by his glowing -eloquence and brilliant generalizations, can read his -philosophical works without feeling that he was no Christian -believer, and that he neither knew nor respected Catholic faith -or theology. In his own mind he reduced Catholic faith to the -primitive beliefs of the race, inspired by the impersonal reason, -and as he never contradicted these as he understood them, he -persuaded himself that his philosophy did not impugn Christianity -and the church. - -{112} - -9. The reviewer says: - - "One more extract, by way of capping the climax. Seemingly - ignorant of Cousin's criticism upon De Bonald's now exploded - theory of language, and his exposition of De Biran's, the - critic thinks, 'He would have done well to have studied more - carefully the remarkable work of De Bonald; had he done so, he - might have seen that the reflective reason cannot operate - without language.' Has this man not read what Cousin has - written, on the origin, purpose, uses, and effects of language, - that he represents him as believing that the reflective reason - can operate without language, without signs!" (P. 547.) - -If M. Cousin maintains that the reflective reason cannot operate -without language, as in some sense he does, it is in a sense -different from that in which we implied he had need to learn that -fact. We were objecting to the spiritualism--we should say -intellectism, or noeticism--which he professed, that it assumed -that we can have pure intellections. Cousin's doctrine is that, -though we apprehend the intelligible only on the occasion of some -sensible affection, yet we do apprehend it without a sensible -medium. This doctrine we denied, and maintained, in opposition, -that, being the union of soul and body, man has, and can have in -this life, no pure intellections, and that we apprehend the -intelligible, as distinguished from the sensible, only through -the medium of the sensible or of a sensible representation, as -taught by Aristotle and St. Thomas. The sensists teach that we -can apprehend only the sensible, and that our science is limited -to our sensations and inductions therefrom; the pure -transcendentalists, or pure spiritualists, assert that we can and -do apprehend immediately the noetic, or, as they say, the -spiritual; the peripatetics hold that we apprehend it, but only -through the medium of sensible representation; Cousin, in his -eclecticism, makes the sensation the occasion of the apprehension -of the intelligible, but not its medium. On his theory the -sensible is no more a medium of noetic apprehension than on that -of the transcendentalists; for the occasion of doing a thing is -very different from the medium of doing it. - -Now, language is for us the sign or sensible representation of -the intelligible, and, as every thought includes the apprehension -of the intelligible, therefore to every thought language, of some -sort, is essential. The reviewer stumbles, and supposes that we -are accusing Cousin of being ignorant of what he is not ignorant, -because he supposes that we mean by reflective reason the -discursive as distinguished from the intuitive faculty of the -soul, which, if he had comprehended at all our philosophy, he -would have seen is not the case. Intuition with us is ideal, not -empirical. It is not our act, whether spontaneous or reflective, -but a divine judgment affirmed by the Creator to us, and -constituting us capable of intelligence, of reason, and -reasoning. Reflective reason is our reason, and the reflex of the -divine judgment, or the divine reason, directly and immediately -affirmed to us by the Creator in the very act of creating us. Not -only discursion, then, but what both Cousin and the reviewer call -intuition, or immediate apprehension, is an operation of the -reflective reason. Hence, to the operation of reason in the -simple, direct apprehension of the _intelligible_, as well -as in discursion or reasoning, language of some sort, as a -sensible medium, is necessary and indispensable. When the -reviewer will prove to us that Cousin held, or in any sense -admitted this, he will tell us something of Cousin that we did -not know before, and we will then give him leave to abuse us to -his heart's content. - -{113} - -But we have already dwelt too long on this attempt at criticism -on us in the _Church Review_--a _Review_ from which, -considering the general character of Episcopalians, we expected, -if not much profound philosophy or any very rigid logic, at least -the courtesy and fairness of the well-bred gentleman, such as we -might expect from a cultivated and polished pagan. We regret to -say that we have been disappointed. It sets out with a promise to -discuss the character of Dr. Brownson as a philosopher, and -confines itself to a criticism on an article in our magazine -without the slightest allusion to a single one of that -gentleman's avowed writings. Even supposing, which the -_Review_ has no authority for supposing, that Dr. Brownson -wrote the article on Cousin, that article was entitled to be -treated gravely and respectfully; for no man in this country can -speak with more authority on Cousin's philosophy, for no one in -this country has had more intimate relations with the author, or -was accounted by him a more trust worthy expositor of his system. - -As to the reviewer's own philosophical speculations, which he now -and then obtrudes, we have, for the most part, passed them over -in silence, for they have not seemed to us to have the stuff to -bear refuting. The writer evidently has no occasion to pride -himself on his aptitude for philosophical studies, and is very -far from understanding either the merits or defects of such a man -as Victor Cousin, in every respect so immeasurably above him. We -regret that he should have undertaken the defence of the great -French philosopher, for he had little qualification for the task. -He has provoked us to render more glaring the objectionable -features of Cousin's philosophy than we wished. If he sends us a -rejoinder, we shall be obliged to render them still more glaring, -and to sustain our statements by citation of passages from his -works, book and page marked, so express, so explicit, and so -numerous, as to render it impossible for the most sceptical to -doubt the justice of our criticism. - ------------ - - - The Tears Of Jesus. - - - "And Martha said: Lord, if thou hadst been here, my brother had - not died. ... Jesus saith to her: Thy brother shall rise again. - ... And Mary saith to him: Lord, if thou hadst been here, my - brother had not died. ... And Jesus wept." - - - DISCIPLE. - - "Kind Lord, - Dost Martha's love prefer? - Cheer Mary's heavy heart likewise, - And say to her, - Thy brother once again shall rise. - -{114} - - "Why fall those voiceless tears - In sad reply - To her, as if thine ears - Heard not her cry? - - "What opens sorrow's deep abyss - At Mary's word? - When Martha spoke, no grief like this - Thy spirit stirred." - - - MASTER. - - "My child, - Remember what I said to her-- - The elder of the twain, - When she, the busy minister, - Of Mary did complain. - - "Know, they who choose the better part - And love but me alone. - Ask only that my loving heart - Shall make their griefs mine own. - - "To Martha is the promise given - That Lazarus shall rise from sleep; - But Mary is the bride of heaven-- - With her shall not the bridegroom weep?" - - - DISCIPLE. - - "Kind Lord, - When breaks my heart in agony, - Dost ever shed a tear with _me_?" - - - MASTER. - - "My Child, - Wilt all things else for me resign? - Wilt others' love for mine forego - Wilt find thy joy alone in me? - Then will I count thy griefs as mine. - And with thy tears my tears shall flow - In loving sympathy." - ---------- - -{115} - - Sister Simplicia. - - -"What a wet, disagreeable day it is! If papa hadn't bought the -tickets last evening, I don't believe I should have come out -to-day, even for the sake of hearing Ristori in Marie Antoinette. -She can't do better than she does in Mary Stuart, and I already -wish ourselves back in your cosy little library again; besides, I -haven't half finished looking at those curious old illuminated -books of your father's, and, as we go home to-morrow, I fear I -shan't have time, for papa has an invitation for us all this -evening." - -So spoke Anita Hartridge as she and Mary Kenton took their places -in the Broadway stage on their way to a matinee at the French -Theatre. Anita's father was a Baltimore merchant. He was often in -the city buying goods, but this was the first time he had brought -his daughter with him. The two girls were warm friends. They had -been educated together, and it was not yet a year since they had -bidden adieu to the convent walls, the one to thread, motherless, -the gay mazes of Baltimore society; the other to come home as a -household angel to the father and mother, who were already -beginning to grow old. It has been a happy week, a week all too -soon coming to an end; and Mary Kenton sits thinking sadly, so -wrapped in her reveries that she does not even raise her eyes -when the stage stops to take in more passengers. - -She is thinking of Anita, of her beauty and brilliancy, her -quick, flashing, Southern gayety, and yet deep, true, sympathetic -heart; and she wonders what will become of her friend, with no -mother to restrain her impulsiveness and a father who thinks only -of gratifying her lightest wish. How gladly she would share with -her her own mother's tender care; and if she could but be taken -from this whirl of amusement for a short time; but no; they -return to-morrow. Well, here they are at Union Square, and Anita -is speaking softly. - -"Mary, did you ever see so beautiful a face? No, not opposite; -over there in the corner next the door--that younger Sister of -Mercy. She looks like Elizabeth of Hungary. I have been watching -her all this time, and she has never looked up once. She seems -inspired. Do you believe any one _can_ be so happy as she -looks, I mean any one who leads so self-denying a life?" - -But there is no time to reply. They leave the omnibus and are -soon entranced under the magic power of the great tragedian. - -"I wish I were Ristori," said Anita, as they left the theatre. -"To have her power and to be admired as she is admired; oh! that -were grand. That were a life worth living. What is it to live as -we do--to-day as yesterday, and to-morrow as to-day again--no -grand purpose; and when we die, have the world go on just the -same as before? Such lives are not worth living. I wish I could -be great as Madame de Staël, or beautiful as Madame Recamier." - - "'O world! so few the years we live, - Would that the life that thou dost give - Were life indeed!'" - -repeated Mary slowly; "and yet, there are other lives that I had -rather take for my model than any of these." - -{116} - -"Yes, I know, Mary. You would take rather the life of some saint, -St. Elizabeth herself, perhaps; you are always so good and -gentle; and Sister Agnes used to say that she knew you would come -back to her some time as a sister yourself. But I am not at all -so; I love the world, and society, and amusement, and am only -dissatisfied because I am neither so brilliant nor beautiful as I -should like to be. I feel that your ideal is the better one, but -I have not strength of character enough to live anything but a -gay, butterfly life. You know my favorite song is, 'I'd be a -butterfly,' and indeed I do wish for beauty more than anything -else in the world. And yet, after all, that face that I saw under -the plain black bonnet was of a heavenly beauty that I cannot -forget. Page's copy of the _Madonna della Seggiola_ that we -admired so much yesterday is scarcely more beautiful." - -"And her life has been as beautiful as her face, they say. But -there is our stage. Let us hurry a little; mother will be waiting -dinner for us already." - -A low rap at Mrs. Kenton's door. It is the hour after dinner, and -Dr. Kenton and Mr. Hartridge are in the library, alternately -discussing business and their meerschaums. There are two hours -yet before the ladies need dress for the evening. Mrs. Kenton is -sitting in her large chair before the grate, and the girls come -in quietly and draw up two low ottomans at her feet. The gas is -not yet lighted, and the twilight throws long, deep shadows from -the curtains and the quaint, old-fashioned high bedposts. - -"Mother, we have seen Sister Simplicia to-day. Anita very much -wishes to hear her history, and you have never told it to me yet. -It is just the night to tell a story, just such a night as we -read of, 'without, the snow falling thick and fast, but within a -bright fire throwing its cheerful light around the room and -lighting up the countenance of the narrator,'" said Mary, -smiling. - -"I imagine the fire you are quoting about was of hickory logs in -a great, wide fireplace; and this is only a city grate," said her -mother in the same tone; and then more seriously, "but I will -tell you the story, since you wish it, and all the more readily -as I was thinking of her at the moment you entered. - -"Eight years ago Rose Harding was the belle of our circle. I -loved her as I would have loved a little sister of my own, had I -been blessed with one. She was the younger sister of my dearest -friend; and when Rachel died, she left Rose half in my care, for -their mother was dead and the father only too indulgent. But Rose -was not easily spoiled, and looking back now at this distance, I -think that I have never known another that was her equal. Mr. -Harding was wealthy, and she had all that heart could wish. Of -course she was much sought after and much loved; but few were -made unhappy through her, for she was far too generous and too -conscientious to be a coquette; and when one evening she came to -me, blushing and trembling, and told me that Willis Courtney -loved her--" - -"Willis Courtney, the son of papa's old partner?" asked Anita. - -"You have seen him?" - -"Yes; he was my ideal when I was still a very little girl. But -then I was sent away to be educated, and never saw him -afterward." - -"He was worthy of Rose, though very different. How proud he was -of her! I loved to watch them together. He was so gentle and -thoughtful of every little attention, and she trusted and honored -him so fully. It seemed there never could be a brighter future in -store for any than for these two, and surely there never could be -any more deserving of the choicest blessings of earth. -{117} -Mr. Harding was happy in his child's happiness, and Willis only -waited a visit from his father to give him the glad surprise. Mr. -Courtney was at that time the senior partner in your father's -firm, Anita! Willis was in the second year of his law studies, -and in less than a year he could look forward to establishing a -home; for his father was growing old, and had told him often that -he only wished to see him happily settled in life before he died. -And so the weeks passed in happiness, and tomorrow Mr. Courtney -should come. I shall never forget how anxiously Rose awaited this -coming--expectant, hopeful, timid. 'Willis says his father is a -stern man. I shall be so afraid of him. Perhaps he will not -approve of me'--with a half-frightened laugh; 'I do so want him -to like me. Willis honors him so, and yet says he always stood in -awe of him. _Do_ you think he will like me? I wish to-morrow -were past, I dread it so; and yet Willis says he is sure to love -me, and that he will be so glad to have a daughter.' - -"And Willis was at the depot, impatient to see his father again, -and still more impatient to have the crowning seal of approval -set upon his choice. - -"At length the shrill whistle of the distant train, a few anxious -glances through the darkness, and the bright red light of the -engine glides past slowly. Why is it that this red glare, shining -as it passes, seems to throw a sort of supernatural glare over -the platform and the waiting figures? A strange, weird feeling -comes over him. Is it himself standing there, or is he, too, only -some phantom of his own imagination? In a moment he lives over -his whole past life in one comprehensive flash, as people who are -drowning are said to do. But the train has stopped, and there is -his father's bald head among the crowd of rushing passengers. -Willis passes his hand quickly over his forehead, as if to brush -away the illusion, and advances to meet him. - -"It is a glad meeting. Mr. Courtney looks at his son, and, as he -looks, the benignant smile on his face broadens and deepens. It -is something to have delved in the counting-house all these -years, and bent his shoulders over the dull ledgers, that these -shoulders may have no need to bend, and that this intellect shall -have the means of making the best of itself; and, as he walks -beside him to the waiting carriage, he says in his heart, 'There -is none equal to _my_ son.' - -"And now they sit in their parlor at the '---- House,' and the -bottle of old port is almost emptied, for Mr. Courtney is fond of -good wine. The waiter has arranged the fire, and brought in a -fresh bottle, and father and son are alone. - -"'And now, Willis, who is she, this divinest of her sex; and when -am I to see her?' - -"'To-morrow, or this evening if you prefer. Mr. Harding is almost -an invalid, and so spends his evenings at home, and Rose seldom -leaves him.' - -"'_Harding!_ What Harding is this? You always spoke of her -as "Rose," and I never thought to ask her family name,' said Mr. -Courtney, in ill-suppressed anxiety. - -"'Thomas Harding, formerly of New-Orleans. Why, father, what is -it; are you ill? What can I do for you?' said Willis, rising from -his chair quickly, as Mr. Courtney arose and staggered toward the -mantle piece. He stood there, resting his folded arms on it, with -his head so buried in them that the son could see nothing of his -face. -{118} -John Courtney was not a man to be approached easily. Whatever the -joys or sorrows of his life might have been, his son was as -ignorant of them as the stranger who met him just an hour ago. So -Willis stood now at a little distance, not feeling sufficient -freedom to approach, and anxiously awaiting some word or movement -that should give him permission to speak. But none such came, -and, after a few moments, Mr. Courtney raised his head, saying, -'A glass of wine, Willis. I felt a little faint a moment ago. -Travelling is tiresome work for an old man.' And Willis filled -the glass silently; for there was a look in the white face that -chilled, while it awed him--a look of determination, and yet of -indecision at the same time. - -"It seemed as if a cold, misty atmosphere had suddenly entered -the room; and the two men spent the remainder of the evening in a -vain effort to sustain a conversation upon all manner of general -subjects, which the son seemed always to succeed in shaping till -it just approached the subject in which alone he was then -interested, and the father always to turn it off just in time to -prevent its touching. At length Willis arose, saying: - -"'But your journey has tired you very much, father. I will go -now, that you may have a long night's rest.' - -"'Yes, yes. I am no longer so young as I was once.' - -"But after his son had gone, he forgot his weariness, and spent -the night in walking up and down the length of the parlor, and -drinking wine, as the waiter said in the morning, 'like a -high-bred gentleman;' and when the morning came, the look of -indecision had passed away, and the determination alone remained. - -"And Willis passed the long hours of darkness in a nightmare of -undefined dread, half asleep, but yet entirely conscious of all -around; a state that confused imagination and reality, till the -most frightful dreams became impressed with all the power of real -events--so real that only the morning, with the unchanged, -familiar face of the servant could make him feel certain that -they were all waking dreams, and that he had not lived a horrible -year. But the cold water, and the cheerful breakfast-table, and -all the invigorating morning influences served to restore him; -and he laughed at the absurd fancies, and went around to his -father's hotel, wondering that he should have felt so discouraged -and uncomfortable in his presence last evening, and mentally -resolving to let no such chill come over their intercourse this -morning. - -"As he stepped into the hall, he noticed the well-known baggage, -with the initials, 'J. C.,' and said to the waiter: - -"'What carelessness is this? You have never carried up my -father's baggage.' - -"'As soon as you had gone last evening,' said the waiter, 'I went -up to his door, sir, and asked if I should send it up then; but -he said, "No," as he should leave early in the morning, sir.' - -"Willis hurried up and found the old man at breakfast, or rather -sitting there beside it, for he had evidently eaten nothing, -although he said he had finished. - -"'Why, father! your baggage--' - -"'Yes, yes, a telegram. Must return immediately; and now sit down -a moment. There is half an hour yet before going to the train. -When do you finish your studies?' - -"'In two months.' - -{119} - -"'So I thought--so I thought. There is no hurry about your -beginning to practise, and I need your assistance in my business -just at present. There are some speculations in the West that -must be attended to. There is money in them, but I can't trust -Stephens to go alone, and I want to send you with him. I shall -make all arrangements for you to start at the end of two months.' - -"'But, father--Rose?' - -"'Time enough. There's nothing will test your affections like a -little absence. Besides, you aren't either of you old enough to -know what you want yet. If in two years you both feel as you do -now, why, then we'll see about matters; and you know your means -don't depend on your practice; besides, you'll get along better -in that for seeing something of the world before you commence. -I'm getting to be an old man, Willis, and need my son's help a -little now. Surely he won't make any objections to doing what I -desire?' - -"Filial respect and affection was a strong trait in Willis -Courtney's character. Disobedience to the father whom he had -always feared, and to whom he was really so much indebted, was a -thing of which he had never thought before, and thought of now -only to put away the idea as one unworthy of him; and Rose, who -loved her own father devotedly, respected him the more for his -duty to his; and so it came about that when the two months had -passed, he went to California with Stephens, the head clerk of -the firm, and Rose had only the long, tender letters; and Mr. -Harding, who had never been dissatisfied while Willis was here, -grew suddenly restless, and longed to travel. - -"'As long as Rose was so happy, I was contented here,' he said, -'but now she is often sad, and I think a little change will be -good for both of us. I have travelled too much in my life to be -satisfied to settle down in one spot and remain there. I must see -Italy once again before I die.' - -"And so their passage was taken, and one morning we stood on the -deck of an English steamer to bid them 'God speed;' and after we -had come on shore again, stood long watching the ship till it was -far down the bay. - -"At first Rose wrote long, cheerful, descriptive letters. A -summer at a German watering-place had almost entirely restored -Mr. Harding's health, and in the early autumn they began their -tour, intending to visit Vienna, and, passing directly from there -to Venice, make a short stay in two or three cities of Northern -Italy, and then go on to Rome to spend the winter. - -"Letters came seldom now--it was at the beginning of our civil -war--and when they came, there was no longer any mention of -Willis, nor of glad anticipations of return; and later, in a -letter dated at Brescia, she wrote: 'I am in the city of Angela -da Brescia. How was it possible for her to be what she was? I -cannot understand it. To rise up out of the shadow of a great -grief, and to go forth cheerfully into the world and work to do -good and make others happy. It needs more than human will. God -alone can give the strength to do this, and yet if he does it -sometimes, as he did for her, why not always?' - -"And still there was no mention of any personal grief; but the -whole tone of her letter was sad, and I felt that something more -than a mere transient annoyance had occurred to thus destroy her -accustomed cheerfulness. - -{120} - -"At first, the genial climate and the revival of old -associations--for he had spent several winters there in his -youth--had seemed to give Mr. Harding a new life, and almost a -second youth, while they visited the familiar places, and he -pointed out to his daughter the glorious relics of past -architecture and the grand works of the old masters; but it was -only for a time, and when we heard again, his strength was -failing rapidly. At Rome they had met an old friend who was -staying there with his wife, so they joined company, and planned -their return together for the ensuing summer. - -"And all this time we had only heard of Willis Courtney that he -had, without returning home, joined the Union army as a private, -and that his father, whose sympathies were entirely Southern, was -very much displeased; and, in addition, that he had sold out his -interest in the business, some said in order to retire and enjoy -his wealth, others, to avoid a financial crisis which he imagined -to be impending. - -"In May came another letter from Rose. The time of their return -was uncertain; her father was feeble, and wished neither to leave -the mild climate, nor to risk the danger of a voyage, till he -should be stronger. And in reply to some question of mine--'I -have heard no word from Willis Courtney this winter, and even -last autumn his letters had changed and were no longer like him. -But I cannot write of this. I do not understand it all. ... I -have spent almost the entire day in St. Peter's. I do this often. -It is God's grandest monument on earth, and I never feel so near -him as here. I never truly felt the love of holiness before; but -here, under the influence of the inimitable grandeur of his -church, and in the presence of his earthly representative, I can -almost shut out the vanities of the world, and bow before God -alone, worshipping him in supreme love and reverence. I love the -beautiful rites of the church. Ah! how gladly I would lie down -beneath the shadow of her walls, and sleep the last sleep--or if -that may not be, take the vows which should make me the bride of -heaven alone, and shut out for ever the coldness and deceptions -of the world. But my poor father needs me so much, and is so -entirely dependent upon me, that I cannot leave him while he -lives. He is fearfully changed, and has grown so much older -within the last two months that you would scarcely recognize him -now. I hope he may soon be better, and am sure he must be, for he -is always so cheerful.' - -"But this was not to be, and after lingering a few weeks longer, -he died amid the scenes he had loved so well, having first -exacted a promise from Rose that she would return to New York -with Mr. and Mrs. Rowland. - -"They had a pleasant voyage, good weather and a smooth sea, and -the vessel glided along, making every day her full number of -knots, and making glad the hearts of the passengers, who were -returning to home and friends. - -"Mr. and Mrs. Rowland spent much of the time on deck, and Rose -sat near them, always with a book lying open on her lap; to the -careless observer she appeared to be reading, but those who, -after a few days, began to notice the sad face, noticed, too, -that the leaves of the book were never turned and that her glance -rested always on the sea. These were days of rest. The slow -rolling of the waves lent her an artificial calmness. The events -of the last few months had stunned her, and this was the -transition state before reaction. A sort of veil seemed to have -been cast between her vision and the past, and the future seemed -a blank, a desert that she had no wish to explore, and before -which she shut her eyes. -{121} -She seemed to be falling into that dreamy melancholy which so -often precedes insanity, and Mrs. Rowland watched her anxiously, -and Mr. Rowland made every exertion to distract her attention, -making every little excuse to get her to walk on deck, and to -notice some peculiar cloud or singular fish. And so the days -passed till they were within two days of New York; then the pilot -came on board, and they began to realize, for the first time, -that they were almost home. He brought the last papers, three -days old now, and the hitherto quiet passengers were all -excitement, gathered here and there in little groups eagerly -discussing the news he had brought, for those were times full of -interest, and this news was the defeat at Bull Run. - -"Mr. Rowland had put a paper into Rose's hands, and as she read, -she became first interested; then the quick blood mounted to her -face, and Mr. Rowland remarked: - -"'You have not yet forgotten that you are an American, Miss -Harding.' - -"She replied quickly and continued reading. Presently the paper -dropped from her hands; her face became deadly pale, and she -leaned heavily against the rail for support. Mr. Rowland took up -the paper and searched the page she had been reading; but in -vain; he saw nothing that should have startled her, and so turned -away, thinking he had been mistaken, thus leaving her alone to -accustom herself to the reality of what she had read. - -"What she had read? It was only a name, and that the name of a -common soldier. - -"In looking over the list of the names of those found dead on the -battle-field of Bull Run, she had found that of Willis Courtney. - -"The next day they reached Sandy Hook. But it was already -evening, and they were obliged to anchor over night, and defer -running up to the city till the next morning. There were many -impatient at this detention, but none more so than Rose Harding. -What has come over her? her kind friends asked each other in -vain; but she was no longer indifferent, and her face expressed a -cheerful determination. It was a conviction of duty, and a -resolution to fulfil it. All the night after the news, she had -lain awake and pictured to herself the horrors of lying wounded -on the battle-field, and of dying alone in the cold and darkness. -She had loved Willis Courtney with the full depths of a first -matured affection, and she loved him now, despite the -indifference and coldness with which he had rewarded that love. -And now he was dead, and whatever had come between them on earth -had passed away; and, strange as it seemed to her, she felt that -he had come back to her, and that they were nearer together than -they had ever been. But he was dead, and he had died in a noble -cause, and she felt ashamed of her own selfish grief, that had -shut out the world and its cares and sorrows. The old words came -ringing in her ears: - - 'The noblest place for man to die, - Is where he dies for man.' - -"Had he not died nobly? And then she contrasted her own life with -his. What had _she_ done to make any of God's creatures -better or happier! 'Nothing! nothing!' Then came bitter regrets, -and accusations against her destiny. Why had she not been -permitted to be near him in the last struggle? Had not her own -pride been perhaps somewhat to blame? He had suffered alone. - -"Then suddenly he seemed to stand beside her, and pointing -upward, to repeat to her those words of Christ: 'Inasmuch as ye -have done it unto one of the least of these, my brethren, ye have -done it unto me.' - -{122} - -"It was a revelation. What God had done for Angela da Brescia, he -had done for her. Darkness had passed away, and in its place was -light, and the warmth of renewed life. 'Unto the least of these.' -Willis was gone. On earth she could do nothing more for him; but -there were others, others who were laying down their lives as -nobly and in the same cause; for these she could work; and -whatever she could do 'unto the least,' she should be doing for -_him_ and for _Christ_. - -"It was no mere momentary enthusiasm. She came home to join the -devoted band of the Sisters of Mercy, and among these she was one -of the bravest and truest. No duties were too arduous and no -dangers too great, for this child of luxury to encounter. -Herself, and the great wealth which she had inherited from her -father, she consecrated to the service of God. Like the noble -Paula of old, who went forth from pagan Rome to assemble around -her a community of sisters in Palestine, 'she was piteous to them -that were sick, and comforted them, and served them right -humbly,' and 'laid the pillows aright' with a tender hand; and -many a poor soldier thanked her for his life, and many more -blessed with dying lips the name of her who had robbed the grim -messenger of his terrors, and shown the light of God's love -gilding the horizon of the valley of the shadow of death. - -"And when the war was ended, she came back to New York, to -continue, in another field, her labors of love. Here she visited -hospitals and prisons, carrying the promises of the Father's -forgiveness to the repentant, and words of comfort and -consolation to those who were sick and weary of life. - -"One morning, about a year ago, as she was visiting prisoners in -company with an older sister, she noticed in the Tombs a new -prisoner, who attracted her attention by his dignified bearing, -and evident reluctance to speak to any of his companions; and as -he turned, and she caught a view of his profile, she was startled -with a feeling that it was familiar to her; and yet she had -surely never seen the man. But he seemed glad to talk of -religion; and when she left, she gave him a pocket Bible to read -until she should next visit the prison. But all that day the face -seemed to haunt her. It came between her and her prayers; it -visited her dreams in the night, and hung over her like an -incubus that would not away at her entreaties; and she found -herself looking forward to her next visit with a mixed feeling of -anxiety and curiosity. When at last she went again, the old man -recognized her, and asked suddenly, in a trembling voice: - -"'Are you Rose Harding?' - -"'I am Sister Simplicia. I _was_ Rose Harding,' she replied, -shocked at the suddenness and eagerness of the question. - -"He looked at her wonderingly, and then said: - -"'Are you happy? But what use to ask. Your face and voice show -it. See here,' he added, and handed her back the open Bible. It -was one that Willis had given her years ago, and on the fly-leaf -to which the man now opened was written-- - - 'Rose Harding. - From Willis Courtney.' - -{123} - -"This was the one relic she had kept of her past life. She had -fastened those leaves together with thin white wafers, so that -the names should be invisible, and had felt still that _his_ -book must be especially blessed, and so had given it often to -prisoners to read. She had intended to destroy everything that -should remind her of Rose Harding; but these names, written in -his hand, she could not destroy, but had thought to hide them -even from herself. - -"And this man had torn them open. It was as if he had committed a -sacrilege; as if he had opened the grave of the dead; for were -these not buried long ago? - -"But he was speaking hurriedly: - -"'I am John Courtney. I have something to tell you; something -that has hunted me down for years, and driven me here at last.' -And she listened. - -"He had been her father's confidential clerk years ago in New -Orleans. In an evil moment, he had allowed himself to take a -small sum from the drawer; for his salary, large though it was, -was not sufficient to meet the expenses of a young man who loved -gay company, drank much and gambled more. It was not discovered, -and so he had helped himself again, and Mr. Harding, who was -scarcely older than himself, and had absolute confidence in him, -had still made no discovery; but when it became time to balance -the yearly accounts, he knew it could be concealed no longer, and -so one night he took enough more to pay travelling expenses, and -to help him in starting into some business for himself, and left -on a night-boat for the North. He remained secreted in St. Louis -till he had discovered through the papers that Mr. Harding had no -intention of prosecuting him; then, after having adopted the -precaution of changing his appearance as much as possible, and -his name from James Rellerton to John Courtney, had come to -Baltimore and gone into business, in which he had prospered, and -had married into one of the first families in the place. His wife -had died while Willis was yet a child, and he had centered his -pride and affection upon this only boy. For his sake he had -worked untiringly, and had showered his wealth upon him, that he -might never know the temptation that had overcome his father. But -from making any acknowledgment to Mr. Harding his pride shrunk. -He had, indeed, sent back the money he had taken, but to see Mr. -Harding he had felt to be impossible. James Rellerton was dead, -and John Courtney must stand without reproach before the world, -and no man living must know that there was any connection between -the two. - -"But when Willis had spoken the name of Thomas Harding as that of -the father of his affianced bride, it seemed that retribution, -from being so long delayed, had come upon him with double -harshness, as the interest of a debt that has run long is -sometimes greater than the principal itself. Should he destroy -the happiness of the son for whom he would have given his life, -or run the risk of being recognized by Mr. Harding? - -"He could do neither; and besides, would Mr. Harding allow his -daughter to marry the son of James Rellerton? - -"Then he had resolved to separate them, and let time and events -decide the future means to be employed. It had been a double -game. If Willis had been instructed to watch Stephens, Stephens -had been no less definitely instructed to watch Willis; and when, -after six months, he had reported that the correspondence between -him and Rose was undiminished, he had received instructions that -he must 'see to it that it should cease gradually;' and so the -letters had been intercepted, a few times changed, and then no -longer sent in any form. The father had said: - -{124} - -"'My son will blame her, and his pride will prevent his -suffering.' - -"But when did pride prevent suffering? It may prevent the showing -of any sign, and it did here; but Willis had been one of the -first volunteers, and then he had fallen; and the old man had -been left desolate with a double crime upon his conscience. He -had no object in attending to business and making money now, so -had sold his interest, and tried to find in travel that -alleviation from thought which could alone make life endurable. -But he could not leave himself--the one thing he desired to -leave--and an attraction beyond his control had brought him back -to New Orleans. Here the necessity for excitement had again led -him into the old temptation of gambling. But he was not always -successful; and when the Mississippi was again open, he had -travelled on the boats, at first with better success, but at last -had become too well known, and in looking for a new field, had -fallen in with a band of counterfeiters, and so had come to New -York in their employ. - -"And this was the end of it all. - -"At first Rose had listened with an intense loathing for the man. -Had he not wronged her father, and blighted her own youth, and -even chased his own son to his death; and was he not a -counterfeiter and a gambler; an outcast before God and man? - -"Then, as she turned her glance, it fell upon her cross, and it -brought back the scene on Calvary and the face of Him who had -prayed 'Father, forgive them.' Then she looked again at the old -man, and, trembling with emotion, he cast himself on the floor at -her feet, crying: - -"'Merciful sister, pray for me!' - -"And the peace of God came back to her, as she clasped her hands, -and raising to heaven her eyes filled with the tears of a gentle -pity, prayed aloud: - -"'O Jesus! be merciful; and deal with me even as I deal with this -repentant man.' - -"The Bible of his son first, and the labors of the appointed -ministers of God afterward, brought him again under the -benediction of the church. But she it was who stood beside him in -the last struggle, and closed the eyes with more tenderness than -a daughter; for hers was that holy love, born of heaven and -earth, which dwells only in the consecrated heart." - - ...... - -Mrs. Kenton had finished. The long shadows had grown longer and -mingled together, till it had become only darkness; and then the -moon had arisen and was shining with a pale light through the -masses of heavy clouds. They arose silently and went each to her -own room. But for Anita Hartridge this night was the -turning-point in life. The "butterfly" was such no longer, and in -its place grew up the noble woman. - -Did Sister Simplicia, as she knelt at her prayers that night, -know the work she had done for her Master that day? - ---------- - -{125} - - - The Merit Of Good Works - - -In a recent article we endeavored to explain the catholic -doctrine, that good works as well as faith are an essential -condition of justification. This implies, of course, that good -works are meritorious, and that eternal life is due to them as a -recompense. We wish to elucidate this point a little more fully, -and to show what is the nature of that merit which is ascribed to -good works proceeding from the principle of faith informed by -charity. - -In the widest sense of the word, merit signifies any kind of -excellence or worthiness. In this sense, a picture is said to -have merit; and purely physical or intellectual perfections, -which are merely natural gifts, are said to merit admiration and -praise. In the strict sense of the word, merit signifies the -quality by which certain free, voluntary acts entitle the person -who performs them to an adequate recompense. It is in this sense -that merit is ascribed to the good works of a just man. These -works are said by Catholic theologians to deserve eternal life by -a merit of condignity and a title of justice. - -What is meant by merit of condignity? It means that there is an -equality of dignity or intrinsic worth and value between the work -performed and the recompense bestowed. This is easily understood -in regard to merely human affairs. It is not easy to understand, -however, how a creature can deserve the reward of eternal life -from the Creator. Good works, however excellent they may be in -the finite order, and as measured by a human standard, appear to -be totally incommensurate with the infinite, and therefore -wanting in all condignity with an infinite recompense. So far as -the mere physical entity of the works is concerned, this is -really so. The gift of a cup of cold water to a person suffering -from thirst, the recital of a few prayers, a trivial act of -self-denial, evidently bear no proportion to eternal beatitude. -Neither does a life like that of St. Paul, filled with labors, or -a long course of penance and prayer like that of St. Romuald, or -a martyrdom like that of St. Polycarp. The mere extent or -duration of the labor or suffering, considered as something -endured for the sake of God, is nothing in comparison with the -crown of immortal life. The condignity of good works is not -derived from an equality or proportion between their physical -extent and duration and the physical extent and duration of the -recompense. It is derived from an equality in kind between the -interior principle from which good works proceed, and the -interior principle of beatitude. The interior principle of good -works is charity; not a merely natural charity, but a -supernatural, a divine charity, produced by the Holy Spirit. Good -works proceed from a supernatural principle, and are performed by -a concurrence of the human will with the divine Spirit. They -have, therefore, a superhuman, divine quality, and are elevated -to the supernatural order, the same order to which eternal -beatitude belongs. They are, therefore, equal to it in dignity in -this sense, that they are equally supernatural. -{126} -The principle of divine charity in the soul is, moreover, the -germ of the eternal life itself, which is promised as the reward -of the acts which proceed from charity. The life of grace is the -life of glory begun, and the life of glory is the life of grace -consummated. The germ is equal in grade and quality with the tree -which it produces, though not equal in extent and perfection. In -the same manner, a little act, like that of giving a cup of water -to another for the love of God, although trivial in itself, -contains a principle which is capable of uniting the soul to God -for all eternity. It is the principle of divine love, making the -soul like to God, imitating on a small scale those acts of the -love of God toward men which are the most stupendous, and -therefore, making the soul worthy to be loved by God with a love -of complacency similar in kind to that love which he has toward -himself. - -Again, the value and merit of services rendered by one person to -another are estimated, not alone by the substance of the services -rendered, but by the quality of the person who renders them. An -article of small utility or cost is sometimes more valued as a -token of affection from a dear friend, or as a sign of esteem and -honor from a person of high rank, than a large sum of money would -be which had been accumulated by the industry of a servant. The -good works of a just man fall under this category. They are -estimated according to the quality and rank of the person who -performs them. The just man is the friend of God, and the -services he renders to God are valued accordingly, not as so much -work done, but as tokens of love and fidelity. As a friend of -God, the just man is a person of high rank in the scale of being. -He is a "partaker of the divine nature," as St. Peter distinctly -affirms. His human nature is exalted and sublimated to a certain -similitude with the nature of God; and the acts which proceed -from it have a corresponding dignity and elevation, proportioned -to their end, which is eternal life, or the consummation of the -union between human nature and the divine nature in eternal -beatitude. The just man is the adopted son of God the Father, -through his union with God the Son incarnate. This adoption into -a participation with Jesus Christ in his sonship reflects the -dignity and excellence of the person of Christ upon his person -and upon all his works. As a member of Christ and a son of God, -his person and his works are superior to the whole natural order, -and, therefore, there is nothing which has the relation of -condignity toward them except the supernatural order itself. - -It is evident, therefore, that regenerate nature has condignity -with the state of glory, and that the good works which proceed -from it have condignity with degrees of splendor in this state of -glory. Regenerate nature bears the image of God, aspires after -union with God, is fitted to find its beatitude in the vision of -God, is made apt and worthy to be admitted into the kingdom of -heaven. It demands, therefore, as its last complement, the -_lumen gloriae_ which enables it to see God face to face. -The personal love of the soul to God as its friend and Father, -and the personal love of God to the soul as his friend and son, -require that they should have mutual vision of each other and -live together. This living with God is eternal life, which is, -therefore, the only fitting recompense for the love of God -exercised by the just man upon earth. - -{127} - -Theologians do not, however, regard the title in strict justice -to a supernatural reward, or the ratio of condign merit, as -consisting solely in the condignity of the meritorious works -themselves. They place it partially in the promise of God, or the -decree of his providence which he has promulgated, in which -special rewards are assigned as the recompense of good works -performed in the state of grace. Therefore, they say, the reward -of eternal life is due in strict justice, not by an obligation -arising _per se_ from the act of the creature, but by an -obligation of the Creator to himself to fulfil his own word. They -say that God may require, by virtue of his sovereign dominion, -any amount of service from the creature as his simple due, -without giving him any reward for it; that he may even annihilate -him if he pleases, and, moreover, that the holy acts of the -blessed in heaven, although they have a perfect condignity with -supernatural rewards, do not receive any. Therefore, they say, a -creature cannot merit a reward from God according to rigorous -justice, but only according to a rule of justice derived from the -free determination and promise of God. Scotus and some others -even hold that the condignity of meritorious works with the -promised reward is altogether extrinsic, and denotes merely that -they are conformed to the standard or rule which is laid down by -the divine law. It is, therefore, only required in strictness by -the definition of the church, that one should confess that the -good works of the just man entitle him to a supernatural reward -by virtue of a promise which God has given. Those who are so -extremely frightened at the sound of the phrase, "merit of -condignity," as applied to men, can adopt the opinion of Scotus -if they please. For our own part, we prefer the other and more -common doctrine of condignity which we have already explained. We -do not apprehend any danger to the glory of the Almighty from the -exaltation of his own works, or any diminution of the merits of -Christ from the glorification of his saints. On the contrary, the -power and glory of God are magnified the more, the more like to -himself the creature is shown to be which he has created. "God is -admirable in his saints;" and, the more excellent their works -are, the greater is the praise and homage which accrues to him -from these works which are offered up to him as acts of worship. -The only error to be feared is the attributing of something to -the creature which he derives from himself, as having -self-existent, independent being. To attribute to angel or man as -much good as is in a withered leaf, is equivalent to a total -denial of God, if this good is not referred to God as first -cause. But to attribute to created nature all possible good, even -to the degree of hypostatic union with the divine nature, does -not detract in the slightest degree from the truth that God alone -is good in himself, if the good of the creature is referred to -him as its source and author. No doubt all right to existence, to -immortality, to felicity of any kind, is derived from God, and is -originally a free gift to the creature from him. But the right is -a real right, of which the creature has just possession when God -has given it to him, one which may be an inalienable right in -certain circumstances, that is, a right which God cannot, in -consistency with his own attributes, withdraw. When God creates a -rational nature, in which he has implanted the desire and -expectation of immortal existence and felicity, he implicitly -promises immortality and felicity. We do not like to hear it said -that he can annihilate such a creature or withhold from it the -felicity after which it naturally aspires, unless it be as a just -punishment for sin. -{128} -So, when God creates man anew in the supernatural order, by -giving him the grace of regeneration, he gives him an implicit -promise of eternal beatitude. It is very true that he can exact -from him any amount of service he pleases, as a debt that is due -to his sovereign majesty; yet he cannot justly withhold from him -final beatitude, unless he forfeits it by his own fault. The -special reward annexed to every good work is undoubtedly due only -by virtue of the explicit promise which God has made, to reward -every such good work by an increase of grace and glory. It is -also true that God does confer some degrees of glory on the just -out of pure liberality and beyond the degree of merit. Moreover, -the period of merit is limited by the decree of God to this life, -because it is fitting that the creature should increase and -progress, during his probation, toward the full measure of his -perfection, and should afterward remain in that perfection when -he has arrived at his term. We think, therefore, that we have -made it plain enough that good works have a merit of condignity -in relation to eternal life, and nevertheless derive this merit -from the promise and appointment of God, subject to such -conditions as he has seen fit, in his sovereign wisdom and -liberality, to establish. - -The doctrine we have laid down detracts in no way from the merits -of Christ. Christ alone has the principle of merit in his own -person as an original source. He alone has merited of condignity -grace to be bestowed on others. His merits alone are the cause of -the remission of sins, and the bestowal of regenerating, -sanctifying, saving grace. His merits merits of the saints as the -head is superior to the inferior members of the body. His -incarnation, life, and death are, in a word, the radical -meritorious cause of human salvation from the beginning to the -end; and, in their own proper sphere or order of causation, are -entirely alone. Christ is the only mediator of redemption and -salvation between God and man, in whom the Father is reconciling -the world to himself. His acts alone are referable to no -principle higher or more ultimate than his own personality. All -merely human grace, sanctity, or merit is, therefore, to be -referred to him as its chief author, and to merely human subjects -only as recipients or secondary and concurrent causes. It is easy -to understand, therefore, what is meant by presenting the merits -of the Blessed Virgin Mary and the saints before God as a motive -for bestowing grace. The saints have not merited anything over -and above that which Christ has merited, nor have they merited, -by a merit of condignity, even the application of the merits of -Christ to others. Through their personal merits, they have -obtained a kind of right of friendship to ask in a specially -efficacious manner for graces and favors to be conferred on those -for whom they intercede. Their mediation and merits are, -therefore, only efficacious by way of impetration and prayer, and -not by virtue of a right which they have obtained by a title of -justice. This is what is meant by merit of congruity, which -denotes a certain fitness in a person to obtain from God the -favors for which he asks. This merit of congruity is all that is -ascribed to the Blessed Virgin or the saints, as a groundwork of -their intervening power, by any Catholic theologian. It is the -same in kind with that which the just on earth possess, by virtue -of which they obtain, through their prayers, blessings and graces -for other persons. It is easy to see, therefore, how completely -the Catholic doctrine is misunderstood by those who imagine that -it either places man in the room of Christ, as his own Saviour, -or substitutes the mediation of the Blessed Virgin and the saints -for the mediation of Christ. - --------- - -{129} - - Full Of Grace. - - - Flowers in the fields, and odors on the air, - The spring-time everywhere; - Music of singing birds and rippling rills, - Soft breezes from the hills; - So broke the sweetest season, long ago, - Far from this death-cold snow. - In that blest land which smiles to every eye, - Most favored from on high; - And in one town whose sheltering mountains stand - Broad breast-plates of the land; - So fair a spring-time sure was never seen, - Since Eden's walks were green. - - A sudden glory flashed upon the air, - A face unearthly fair; - A beauty given but to those alone - The nearest to the throne; - The great archangels who upon their hair - The seven planets wear. - Lightly as diamonds--such the form that now, - With brilliant eyes and brow. - Paused by the humble dwellings of the poor. - Entered the humblest door, - Veiling his awful beauty, far too bright, - With wide wings, strong and white. - - Within the dwelling where his flight was stayed - A kneeling woman prayed. - The angel bowed before that holy face, - And hailed her "Full of Grace." - No other title, not the kingly name - Which David's line can claim; - Not highest rank, though unto her was given - Queenship of earth and heaven; - Not as that one who gave life to the dead, - Bruising the serpent's head; - Not even as mother of the Sacrificed, - The world-redeeming Christ. - - This thought might be a sermon, while yet we, - Heirs of eternity, - Walk this brief, sin-surrounded tract of life. - Wage this short, sharpest strife, - Which must be passed and won before the rest. - The triumph of the blessed. - And when the hour supreme of fate shall come, - And at our promised home - We wait in breathless and expectant dread - Between the quick and dead, - Then may the angel warders of the place - Welcome us, "Full of Grace." - --------- - -{130} - - Translated From L'Economiste Belge. - - How Our History Will Be Told - In The Year 3000. - - -In those days--our latest posterity _loquitur_--the people -were not entirely freed from the savage instincts of their -ancestors, the anthropophagi, those ferocious contemporaries of -the deluge and such great inundations of the world. True, they -did not still eat their enemies, nor break their skulls with -clubs; they did not pierce their bodies with arrows of bone and -flint; but they did the work more delicately, entirely according -to the rules of art, with the precision of a surgeon who cuts off -a limb, or the coolness of a butcher who bleeds a sheep. By dint -of inventions, calculations, and trials of every kind, they -fabricated, at last, most ingenious tools, very convenient and -very simple, and which they handled with equal dexterity. They -were not instruments of natural philosophy, chemistry, astronomy, -or mathematics; our fathers possessed, it is true, objects of -this kind, but they did not think it proper to put them in the -hands of the people. Their thermometers, microscopes, telescopes, -and electrical machines remained in the shade of libraries or the -cabinets of the learned. The people were ignorant of their names -and uses, while they well understood the management of the tools -of which I speak. So you will suppose these were very useful -articles, as they were so generally employed in every clime and -nation, and their object to moralize and instruct mankind, as -governments consented to their gratuitous distribution among -their subjects--went farther, even, and imposed their use. But -alas! no; they were only tools of death and carnage, worthy to -figure among the arms and instruments of torture of preceding -ages; for while some shot off bullets, others threw to enormous -distances balls of brass and steel, that made holes in human -walls, burnt up towns, and sunk ships. - -{131} - -The men of this time were called _"civilized"!_ Strange to -say, they had abolished torture, and wished to do away with the -pain of death. The scaffold horrified them, and the sight of the -gallows gave them a vertigo! They had journals and books filled -with beautiful phrases in honor of peace and civilization. But -they did not comprehend the sense of aphorisms which they -repeated incessantly and inscribed everywhere, on the fronts of -their temples, and the first page of their constitutions. - -Their age to them was the age of light, and they seemed ready to -burst with pride when they considered their enormous riches, the -fame of their arts, and the extent of their sciences. And, in -appearance, one might have believed them wise, and as good as the -beings who inhabit the more favored planets of our solar system. -They had noble aspirations and a generous ardor. - -In the penumbra in which they were plunged, a confused mass of -whirling and exasperated workers was alone distinguishable, -hungry, indefatigable, running up and down, like busy ants -seeking their subsistence. The ear heard only a deafening and -monotonous noise, like the buzzing of a hive. But in spite of -shocks and hurts, inevitable from such a clamorous multitude, -order and harmony seemed about being established, when suddenly -the same beings who until then had appeared so laborious and -active, were seized with a sort of rage, and set violently upon -each other. The red light of incendiarism and the thundering -brightness of battle thus demonstrated to the astonished gaze of -philanthropists and thinkers, that vices, sanguinary passions, -and brutal instincts, always alive and always indomitable, were -only hidden in shade, and awaiting the favorable moment to break -their bonds and annihilate civilization. By the artificial and -slightly tarnished light of their sciences, philosophers had -gathered round them men of policy and amiability, civilized and -peaceable, distinguished by good manners, and saying pretty -things about fraternity and progress; but the light that broke -upon them, the evidence that disenchanted them in this shock of -nations, showed them only coarse and ignorant crowds, capable of -committing, in their folly and cruelty, every crime and every -infamy. They had believed that the type of their epoch was the -man of business, industrial or negotiating, the sharp worker, -armed for competition, and prepared for the incessant struggles -of production; and behold! suddenly this personage quits the -scene, transforming himself into a fantastical being, clothed in -brilliant colors, his head ornamented with cock's feathers, his -step stiffened, his manners brusque, and his voice short and -sonorous. At the first boom of the cannon, the rolling of the -drum, or the sound of a warlike march, millions of men, clothed -in red, like the common hangman, marched out of the shade, -furnished with instruments suitable for bleeding, scorching, -disembowelling, crushing, burning, and stopping the breath of -their neighbors. And perhaps you think these men were the refuse -of society; that they came from low haunts and prisons; had -neither heart nor intelligence; that they were given up to public -execration. You never were more mistaken. Each one of these -auxiliaries of death was considered healthy in mind and body, -vigorous and intelligent, honest and disciplined. -{132} -To exercise his trade suitably, he was obliged to possess a crowd -of precious qualities, know perfectly how to behave himself, be -honorable, and of unimpeachable integrity! - -As to the great generals, they were wise men, and men of the -world. They were expected to study mathematics, as it specially -teaches order and harmony; history, which proves that violence -and force have never established anything; and many other -sciences, which one would have imagined capable of directing -their thoughts from their impious career, and rendering them -pacific and humane. - -Toward 1866 a great invention agitated the world. You are ready -to believe it was some means of aerial locomotion, or some -process for utilizing central heat, or placing our planet in -communication with the neighboring ones of Mars and Venus. Alas! -no. Such discoveries were not yet ripe; and besides, men of this -age had other preoccupations. A small province of the north of -Germany, with an erudite and philosophical people, had the honor -of giving to the world the celebrated _needle-gun_. Tired of -thinking, they relinquished their ideal, to move heavily and -noisily under the sun of reality, and set about acting; but -instead of inventing a philosophy, they considered a new engine -of destruction more creditable, and having tried it with the most -magnificent results, they offered to the public the instrument -which was entirely to change the map of Europe, break the -equilibrium of power, and annihilate all international right. -After having laid low several millions of men on the field of -battle, this comparatively insignificant people on the borders of -the Spree, who until then had won more academical laurels than -cannons, and more truths than promises, began to comprehend that -they could play a splendid _rôle_, and exercise a -preponderating influence in Europe. Formerly they had invented an -absolute philosophy; now they invented and practised an absolute -policy. And this was the union of the German people, the triumph -of Prussian institutions, the decay of the Latin and rise of the -Germanic races, and many other changes which only absolute power -can effect. These little people on the borders of the Spree awoke -to a new life, and determined to take all and absorb all; they -threatened Holland; coveted Alsace; were disposed to swallow up -Bavaria, the grand-duchy of Baden, and Würtemberg. Other nations -were troubled, and justly; for the power of the Germans seemed to -them very much like absolutism. So each of them, in great haste, -began to perfect their own instruments of death with the faint -hope, too, that they might very soon make use of them. Old -France, tired of conquests and interior struggles, wished only to -rest. Having disturbed the tranquillity of Europe so often, she -had come to that age when repose is the chief good; so she -feigned ignorance of the insolent aspect and gestures of defiance -of her young rival; but unhappily a few judicious men, and many -more of an intriguing nature, fools and ambitious ones, were at -the head of affairs. These loved war as a golden egg, and birds -of prey, we know, derive their sustenance from a field of battle. -Some already dreamed of wading through blood to conquer an -epaulette, others that they gained millions in supplies, and -became great dignitaries in the empire. -{133} -So they went about repeating that their country was degraded, -reduced to a second rank; that Germanic insolence must be -chastised, and the glorious tricolor planted on the left shore of -the Rhine. The journals commented on their words, and the rustic -in his hut, the laborer at his forge, and the financier in his -counting-house dreamed with terror of the dawning evil. Certain -politicians, meditating on the situation and the march of events, -declared war inevitable, necessary, providential, and alone able -to reëstablish the influence of the country and the -_prestige_ of the government. So they burst out in eloquent -discourses in favor of military armaments, while on their side -strategists, inventors, and administrators set to work, believing -they were the foundation of the future prosperity of their -country. - -Their theory was very simple. The power of a nation, they said, -depended on the number of men capable of bearing arms, and on the -quantity and quality of the engines of destruction that they -possessed. That is, our country must be powerful in order to be -rich, prosperous, and free. _Ergo_, let us increase to every -extent the effectiveness of our troops and fabricate without -parsimony such arms as are unparalleled in Europe. Weak patriots -and economists, the _Sancho Panzas_ of these _Don -Quizotte_ politics, murmured a little, but they found -themselves obliged to be silent and bow their heads under the -taunts and reproaches with which they were loaded. "Utopists," -cried the inventors, "you say our machines are not useful; but -look down there in the direction of Sadowa and Custozza, and tell -us afterward if we have not rapidly and economically fabricated -smoke and glory. Ask the surgeons, and they will describe to you -the gaping wounds, the deep rents they can produce; [Footnote 42] -ask statesmen, and they will tell you the services they render to -the ambitious, and the good livings they secure thereby." -"Miserable citizens! men without energy and honor," cry they to -others, "you lazily prefer well-being to glory, and the success -of your personal enterprises to that of the national glory; but -let the hour of danger come, and we will make you walk at the -point of the bayonet, notwithstanding your cries and menaces." -... And people who cared nothing for truth, and judged by -appearances, echoed the cry, and called them utopists, hollow -dreamers, theorists, and, after all, cowardly and egotistical. - - [Footnote 42: _At Strasbourg the effects of the Chassepot - gun have just been certified by experiments on a corpse hung - at a distance of fifteen yards. The experiments were made by - M. Sarazin, and corroborated by the medical faculty. We will - hear the good doctor in his own words: "I am far from - exaggerating," said he modestly, "the practical value of my - experiences, and I well know the desiderata, easier to - distinguish than resolve, that they present from the point of - view in which the effect of the Chassepot gun is produced - according to distance and on the living being. However, - everywhere I have drawn the following conclusions: - - "At a short distance, and on a corpse the projectiles have - not deviated in their course. - - "1. The diameter of the orifice, as it enters, is the same as - that of the projectile. - - "2. The diameter of the orifice, as it goes out, is enormous, - seven to thirteen times larger than that of the ball. - - "3. The arteries and veins are cut transversely, drawn back - and gaping. The muscles are torn and reduced to the - consistency of pulp. - - "4. The bones are shattered to a considerable extent, and out - of all proportion to the shock of the projectile. - - "To sum up, the effects present a remarkable intensity, and - it is well to note that, after having traversed the corpse, - the projectile pierced two planks, each an inch thick, and - buried itself deeply in the wall."_] - -So soon as such a river of ink flowed from the desks of the -journalists, dragging in its course these insults and injuries, -the workmen commenced their labors. They made rifled cannon of -steel; hammered coats of mail for their men-of-war; pointed their -sword-blades with steel and iron; made bullets, balls, bombs, and -howitzers, heaped up in their arsenals great quantities of -powder. -{134} -And one bright day the government announced with pride to the -country that it owned 9173 brass cannons, 2774 howitzer cannons, -of the same material, 3210 bronze mortars, 3924 small bronze -howitzers, 1615 cast-iron cannons, 1220 howitzers, 20,000 -carriages for ordnance, 10,000 covered wagons, 4,933,688 filled -cannon-balls, 3,630,738 howitzer-balls, 18,778,549 iron bullets, -351,107,574 ball-cartouches, 1,712,693 percussion guns, 817,413 -guns of flint, 10,263,986 pounds of powder--in short, enough to -exterminate the entire globe. Admirable litany, which the good -citizens were to recite mentally every time they thought of the -future of their country! Yet profound politicians said it was not -enough, and the great statesmen were not at all satisfied. "We -must have," said they, "some terrible invention that will strike -our enemies with terror. We would like a machine that would mow -them down like the scythe of the reaper in the harvest, with -movement so regular and continued that it would be impossible for -one to escape." - -They did speak of a new apparatus, ornamented by its inventor -with the pretty name of the grape-gun, and which could send off, -twice a minute, a shower of fifty balls. But public opinion -demanded something better, and the mortified death-seekers -recommenced their labors. - -In those days philanthropists and politicians tried to think of -the best means of establishing peace an Europe. So they met in a -town of Switzerland, on the borders of a beautiful lake, and in -presence of grand and lovely scenery--a place which ought to have -inspired them with high and holy resolutions. But, unfortunately, -they brought with them the bellicose thoughts of their own -countries; and so they concluded the only way to promote peace -was to destroy all bad and weak governments, abolish abuses, -upset society, and so unite all peoples. One might have suggested -that a state of peace could alone have produced such harmony; but -they did not so closely consider the question. - -They were so-called democrats, and they sincerely believed the -aurora of justice would shine in the future on the field of -battle, and brighten the smoking ruins of its former society. ... - -But let us pardon our ancestors: they were more ignorant than -wicked. Peace to their ashes! which, mingling now with the -elements, circulate in the universe. - -Since their time, the globe has many times recommenced its -eternal evolutions; the sun has gone out of its orbit, and -carried with it the planets into the depths of space; science has -become the principal work of human existence, and order is -established everywhere; and we, the latest comers on the earth, -live happily, because we are free--free, because we are -united--united, because we are members of the same family, and -children of the same God. - --------- - -{135} - - - Plan For A Country Church. - - -At the request of several bishops and clergymen, we intend to -publish from time to time in this magazine, architectural plans -suitable for churches of moderate size and costliness. There are -many churches of this kind, especially in small country places, -required by the wants of the people, where an architect cannot be -found, and where the materials, furniture, and other necessary -parts or appendages of the sacred edifice must be of the cheapest -possible kind. Generally speaking, churches of this sort are -built and furnished without any regard to beauty or rubrical -propriety. It is, however, just as cheap and easy to make them -attractive, neat, and strictly ecclesiastical in their style and -proportions as the contrary, if only proper plans and directions -can be obtained. These we purpose to furnish after various styles -of architecture, and suitable to the different exigencies and -tastes of different places and persons. In so doing, we hope to -supply a want that has long been felt, and to assist a great -number of priests who are laboriously engaged in the meritorious -but difficult task of building churches with but limited means -for carrying out their plans. - - - Description. - -The design which we have engraved in this number will give -accommodation to two hundred and fifty persons seated, the area -of the floor of the church being 41 x 25 feet in the clear, with -a sanctuary of 12 x 16 feet, a sacristy 12 x 15 feet, and a porch -to the front of the church sheltering the door against exposure. -The confessional is placed in such a position that the comfort of -the priest as well as the convenience of the people may be -secured. - -The church should be framed with good, stout sills 8x12 inch -section, resting on a substantial wall of rubble masonry, where -stone can be obtained, or of brick where this material becomes -necessary, which wall should be carried deep enough to be -unaffected by the frosts of winter, and raised one foot at least -above the earth, a wall of rubble or brick being built along the -centre to bear the joists of the floor. The joists should be (3 x -10) framed into the sills so that the top of the floor, when -finished, may be twenty-eight inches, above the earth, giving -four steps to the church, the floor of the sanctuary and sacristy -being one step higher, and both on a level. The corner-posts -should be 8 X 8 pine timber, and four intermediate posts of 4 x -8. under each principal of the roof. The plate on the top should -be 4 x 8, and carried round the whole building except where the -chancel intervenes, and care should be taken that all the scarfs -of this piece of timber should be carefully made. The posts -should all be braced with 4x6 pieces, and the walls studded with -4x4, so that, should it be deemed necessary, in particular -localities, to render the building less susceptible to the -changes of temperature, the inner space may be filled. - -The roof should be framed as high as shown on the elevation, with -a slope of 60° with the horizon, in order to obtain greater -height to the interior and greater strength to the truss, with a -collar about midway of the height, but not lower, and curved -braces, resting on hammer beams projecting from the side-walls at -the height of the plate, and a curved brace underneath this beam, -bringing the strain of the truss as low as possible on the -side-walls, but not incommoding the congregation. - -{136} - - [Image: Front Exterior image of church building.] - -Elevation - -{137} - - [Image: Floor plan of church building.] - -{138} - -This simple roof should be framed of the best seasoned timber, -4x6 inches scantling, and should be dressed neatly, and, wherever -desired, may be moulded and have chamfered edges, and the -spandrels filled with two-inch tracery. - -In the sanctuary should this more especially be done to mark the -distinction of this part of the church. The principals of the -roof should be 10 ft. 3 in. apart from the centres, with rafters -of 2 x 8 laid across the same 2 ft. 6 in. apart, and the plank -covering to be laid neatly with narrow tongued and grooved boards -where it may not be desired to plaster the under side of the -rafters; in case it may be thought advisable to plaster the -ceiling, the plaster should be colored a light blue. The chancel -arch should be struck with a curve from the same centre as the -roof-braces, with the edges of the jambs and soffit chamfered and -moulded. - -The walls plastered up to the plate and floated with two coats -and finished a light, pleasing, and warm color. If means -sufficient warranted, a good cornice neatly moulded should finish -the side-walls and break against the principals of the roof, and -may be of wood or run in plaster. - -A label moulding should be run around each door and window, and -in the sanctuary should be enriched whenever possible. - -The window over the altar should be two lights wide or more, -filled with good geometrical tracery, like that in the front of -the pattern shown, the side-windows having pointed heads to the -frames and sashes enclosed in segmental heads on the inside. All -the windows should be glazed with plain diamond quarry glass of a -warm color, and where it may be possible, the chancel window -should have enriched borders and the tracery filled with -appropriate symbols. - -The front of the chapel has been shown covered with shingles, the -timbers showing the framing prominently, and should be dressed -and the angles chamfered in the manner indicated; the corner-post -that carries the bell-cot should be made in one length, and the -bell-cot sheltered by a roof of considerable projection and -surmounted by a cross, which feature may not inappropriately be -transferred to the gable of the chapel at the option of the -priest. In structures like the one presented, it is a simpler and -at the same time better arrangement to allow the eaves of the -roof to project and to dispense with the gutter, the earth below -being protected by flagging, or a properly graded gravelled -slope. The chimney shown on the plan should be placed in the -position marked, to render the draught more equable; in general, -all other details of the church, such as pews, and a gallery if -needed, and the doors, must be made to accord with the style of -the building, and the painting should be the natural color of the -wood, stained, unless it be sought to grain the roof or color in -bright colors. - -In presenting these directions for the builder, many details and -features are omitted which can only be supplied by -specifications. - -This building can be executed for the sum of $3150, the work -being plain but substantial, in accordance with the description. - ----------- - -{139} - - Miscellany. - - -We learn with much regret that on the 12th of February the -printing establishment of the Abbé Migne, at Mont Rouge, in the -southern suburb of Paris, was totally destroyed by fire. No -particulars of the occurrence have yet been given. The -enterprise, conducted with extraordinary vigor and ability by the -abbé, was unique in the history of publishing. It was founded for -the purpose of supplying books for the Catholic clergy of France -and the whole world. Nearly two thousand volumes, in large -imperial octavo, comprising the whole of the Greek and Latin -fathers of the church, and writers on theology and ecclesiastical -history, were edited, published, and kept constantly in print, -employing a staff of several hundred persons, including literary -men, printers, binders, etc.--_London Publishers' Circular._ - ----- - -_Amaurosis from Tobacco-Smoking._--Mr. Hutchinson has -reported thirty-seven cases of amaurosis, of which he says -thirty-one were among tobacco-smokers. Mr. Hutchinson concludes: - - 1. Amongst men, this peculiar form of amaurosis (primary white - atrophy of the optic nerve) is rarely met, except among - smokers. - - 2. Most of its subjects have been heavy smokers--half an ounce - to an ounce a day. - - 3. It is not associated with any other + affection of the - nervous system. - - 4. Amongst the measures of treatment, the prohibition of - tobacco ranks first in importance. - - 5. The circumstantial evidence tending to connect the affection - with the habit of tobacco-smoking is sufficient to warrant - further inquiry into the matter on the part of the - profession.--_Popular Science Review._ - ----- - -_The New Laboratory at the Sorbonne._--This magnificent -establishment, which is to be devoted to the pursuit of chemical -investigation, seems to provide for the student's wants on even a -more liberal scale than its celebrated rival at Berlin. Besides -the various rooms for researches in chemistry, _pur et -simple_, there are numberless apartments exclusively intended -for investigation in optics, electricity, mechanics, and so -forth. Motive-power is provided for by a steam-engine of great -force, which is connected by means of bands with wheels in the -several laboratories. Again, besides the ordinary pipes carrying -coal-gas, there will be a series of pipes supplying oxygen from -retorts kept constantly at work. Indeed, altogether the new -laboratory will be a species of Elysium for the chemical -investigator. - ----- - -_The Bessemer Steel Spectrum._--Father Secchi, who lately -presented to the French Academy his fine memoir on the Stellar -Spectra, compared the spectra of certain yellow stars with the -spectrum produced in the Bessemer "converter" at a certain stage -of the process of manufacture. The employment of the spectroscope -in the preparation of this steel was begun a couple of years -since; but the comparison of the Bessemer spectrum with the -spectrum of the fixed stars has not, so far as we can remember, -been made before. The Bessemer spectrum is best seen when the -iron is completely decarbonized; it contains a great number of -very fine lines, and approaches closely to the spectrum of -_a_ Ononis and _a_ Herculis. The resemblance, no doubt, -is due to the fact that the Bessemer flame proceeds from a great -number of burning metals. The greatest importance attaches to the -analogy pointed out by Father Secchi. Father Secchi suggests that -beginners could not do better than practise on the Bessemer flame -before turning the spectroscope on the stars. Difficult an -instrument to conduct investigations with as the spectroscope -undoubtedly is, the difficulty almost becomes perplexity when the -student tries to examine stellar spectra. - ----- - -{140} - - New Publications. - - Count Lucanor; or, The Fifty Pleasant Stories of Patronio. - Written by the Prince Don Juan, A.D. 1335-1347. - First done into English, from the Spanish, - by James York, Doctor of Medicine, 1868: - Basil Montague Pickering, Piccadilly, - in the City of Westminster. - For sale at the Catholic Publication House, - 126 Nassau Street, New-York. - -Mr. Pickering seems to revel in literary oddities. His book on -the _Pilgrim's Progress_ was quaint enough, and this volume -is scarcely behind it in any of its queer qualities. A more -totally _foreign_ book we do not remember ever seeing. In -style, idiom, turn of thought, everything, it is remote, _toto -caelo_, from all the ideas and criteria of English and modern -criticism. Its publication strikes us as being a remarkably bold -stroke; we cannot imagine for what class of readers it could have -been intended. The only market we could conceive of for such a -work in this country, would be a class of Mr. George Ticknor's, -if he were to have one, in Spanish archaeology. In Spanish, and -as Spanish, we should think it would prove most interesting; even -though the translation is intensely Iberian, both in structure -and thought. - -The "Fifty Pleasant Stories" are very simple as to the machinery, -so to speak, of the telling of them. "Count Lucanor" throughout -the book asks advice of his friend Patronio, stating his case, -and being responded to with a story. Who Count Lucanor may have -been is a mystery for ever. The book shows him to posterity only -as a Spanish gentleman of apparent consequence, whose forte, as -poor Artemus Ward would say, seems to have been to fall into -difficulties and ask advice of Patronio. This gentleman appears -as a sort of Don Abraham Lincoln, or Señor Tom Corwin, rather. -Every question instantly and irresistibly reminds him of "a -little story, you know," etc., etc. This is all of their history. -What the end of a man must have been who answered every question -with an anecdote, we can only shudderingly decline to conjecture. -Whether the gallant Count Lucanor sportively ran him through the -body after one story too many some roystering day; whether he -went mad when the stories gave out, or whether death interrupted -him in a sage narrative, with his sapient hand button-holing the -count's doublet, it is not said. - -There is a world of dry, old-world, dusty, aged pithiness about -the stories. They are generally very fairly to the point, and -often full of the peculiar patness so characteristic of Sancho -Panza. The most remarkable thing about the book, though, is the -really large number of apparent originals it contains. In it are -gems of all manner of precepts and principles that others have -amplified into poetry, and tragedy, and novels, and almost -everything. Still, we cannot call this more than a seeming -originality, because directly alongside of a tale we are -surprised to trace in Shakespeare, or La Fontaine, (a principal -debtor to Count Lucanor,) or some other admired author, we are as -likely to find some story so aged, so thread-bare, so worn and -torn and sapless with the use of centuries, that one is tempted -to refer it back to the year 1. Several of the tales are taken -from the _Arabian Nights_, and Don Juan Manuel generally -modernized them (?) to suit the enlightened Castilian and -anti-Moorish tastes of A.D. 1335, The old, old story of -Alnaschar, for instance, is dished up as "What happened to a -Woman called Pruhana," and the note to the story quietly goes on -to the original original, (skipping old Alnaschar with a word as -a mere junior copy,) namely, "the fifth part of the _Pantcha -Pantra_," which, all will be charmed to learn, is entitled -"Aparickchita Kariteva," which latter an Irish friend translates, -"Much good may it do ye," and our annotator "Inconsiderate -Conduct." -{141} -We will not quote the intensely thrilling narrative of this -Hindoo classic, but content ourselves with assuring our readers, -on our honor as a Brahmin, that the point is identically the -same. - -One of the best examples of the characteristic aptness of the -book is Chapter vii.--"The Invisible Cloth." Count Lucanor's -quandary is all of a man who offered the count great advantages -if he would trust absolutely in him and in no one else. Three -impostors (we condense the good Patronio mercilessly) come to a -king as weavers of a peculiar cloth that no man but a legitimate -son of his father could see; to any one with even a secret taint -upon his authenticity it was utterly invisible. The king, -delighted with this test of so interesting and gossipable a -matter, shuts them up in his palace to make the cloth, furnishing -them rich raw material of all sorts. After some days the king is -invited alone to see the wonderful woof. King-like, the king -sends his chamberlain first. The chamberlain, trembling for his -pedigree, opens his mind's eye, sees the cloth distinctly, and -returns full of its praises. The king goes next, can't see it -either, is terrified for his title to his throne, and decides to -see it also; does see it, and admires it extravagantly. Finding -it still rather puzzling, he sends his Superintendent Kennedy -(_alguacil_) to work up the case. This functionary, likewise -failing to see it, and fearing supersedure by the senior -inspector of police, makes up his mind that the king's eyes are -good enough for him, and, through them, sees it too. Next a -councillor goes to report, and, like a true councilman as he is, -honors his father and mother by seeing it in the same light as -the powers that be. Finally, for some one of the three hundred -and sixty-five extraordinary feast-days of Spain, the king orders -a suit of the invisible cloth, doesn't dare not to see it, and -rides forth among his leal subjects in a costume strikingly like -that famous fatigue uniform of the Georgia cavalry, that we used -to hear so much of during the war. His people generally, out of -respect to their parents, submit to the optical illusion, till, -finally, a Spanish citizen of African descent, "having (says -Patronio--not we) nothing to lose, came to him and said: 'Sire, -to me it matters not whose son I am; therefore, I tell you that -you are riding without any clothes.'" The result is a general -opening of eyes, a sudden change of tailors, it is hoped, by the -king, and the disappearance of the weavers with the rich raw -material. Moral (slightly condensed from one page of -Patronio)--"Don't Trust." - -"James York, Doctor of Medicine," has wasted valuable medical -time in translating this, with a good deal of fidelity to the -spirit of the Spanish. His style really does render much of its -quaintness; as much, perhaps, as today's English will hold in -solution. He is also very fairly fortunate with certain small -mottoes, or couplets, which close each story, prefaced thus, with -slight variations: "And Don Juan, (another utterly mystical -character, who does nothing but what follows,) also seeing that -it was a good example, wrote it in this book, and made these -lines, which say as follows: - - 'Who counsels thee to secrecy with friends, - Seeks to entrap thee for his own base ends.'" - (Chapter vii., above given.)' - -The notes appended to each story are as odd, many of them, as the -stories. Generally, they are little more than notes of -admiration, but often brief _excursuses_, showing quite a -varied range of reading, and full of all manner of reconditeness. -These would seem to be mainly Mr. York's, and they do him credit -in spite of their ludicrously high praise now and then. - -In the mechanical execution of the volume, Mr. Pickering, we -observe, cleaves to his chosen model, the Aldine press, and so -gives us in great perfection that accurate and studious-looking -print which we all feel we ought to like, and which none of us do -like. For our own part, we frankly own our preference for the -short _s_, and all the modern improvements. -{142} -Still, one must bear in mind a thing very obvious in all this -line of publications, that it is expressly to meet and foster a -kind of taste almost unknown in this country, and that the -publisher is evidently carrying out with consistency and energy a -peculiar policy of his own, whose success must at last be the -test of its own merit. - -The general American reader will find this a thoroughly curious -book; the lover of cheap learning, a perfect treasure-house of -rather uncommon commonplaces; and the Spanish scholar, "a -genuine, if rugged, piece of ore from that rich mine of early -Spanish literature which yet lies hidden and unwrought." - ----- - - Peter Claver: A Sketch of his Life and Labors - in behalf of the African Slave. - Boston: Lee & Shepard. 1868. - For sale at the Catholic Publication House, - 126 Nassau street, New York. - -This little book is a brief compendium of the life of a great -saint, who was the apostle of the negro slaves in South America. -Its publication is very timely, as it shows to the -philanthropists of New-England and of the country at large, who -interest themselves so much in behalf of the African race, what -Catholic charity has done and can do in their behalf. We -recommend it to their attention. The Catholic religion, and it -alone, can really and completely meet the wants of this -much-to-be-compassionated portion of mankind. The striking -vignette of this little volume, representing St. Peter Claver -supporting the head of a dying negro, who holds a crucifix -clasped to his dusky bosom, is an expressive emblem of this -truth. It would be an excellent thing if our philanthropists, in -Congress and out of Congress, would get a copy of this very -suggestive photograph framed and hung up in some place where they -are accustomed to say their prayers. - ----- - - The Book of Moses; or, The Pentateuch in its - Authorship, Credibility, AND Civilization. - By the Rev. W. Smith, Ph.D. - Volume I. London: Longman, Green & Co. 1868. - For sale at the Catholic Publication House, New York. - -Dr. Smith has given us in this volume the first instalment of an -extensive work on the Pentateuch. The authorship alone is treated -of in this portion of the work. Dr. Smith happily combines -orthodoxy of doctrine with a scientific spirit. He has evidently -studied Egyptology, geology, comparative philology, and other -sciences bearing on sacred science. He has also made himself -familiar with Jewish and Protestant, as well as Catholic -commentators. From a cursory examination, we are inclined to -judge that his great and useful task has been thus far very well -and thoroughly performed, and to expect that it will be completed -in a satisfactory manner. The volume is brought out in the best -style of English typographical art, with fac-similes of ancient -pictures and inscriptions, which add much to its value. We -recommend it to all students of the Holy Scriptures as one of the -most valuable aids to their researches which has yet been -published in the English language. - ----- - - Life of St. Catharine of Sienna. - By Doctor Caterinus Senensis. - Translated by the Rev. John Fen, in 1609, - and Reëdited, with a Preface, by Very - Rev. Father Aylward. - New York: Catholic Publication Society. 1868. - -This biography is a charming one, translated in the inimitable -English idiom of the 17th century. Father Aylward has very -successfully imitated the antiquated style in his valuable -preface. The biography leaves nothing to be desired as a history -of the private, interior life of the saint, though her wonderful -public career is but slightly touched upon. The sketch of it in -Father Aylward's preface induces us to wish that he would add to -the history of Saint Catharine's private life by Caterinus, an -equally complete history of her public life, with translations of -her letters, from his own graceful and devout pen, which would -furnish the English public with one of the best and most valuable -biographies of a truly great and heroic woman to be found in any -language. - ----- - -{143} - - Prayer the Key of Salvation. - By Michael Müller, C.S.S.R. - Baltimore: Kelly & Piet. 1868. - -This book is an expansion of the excellent work of St. Alphonsus -Liguori on Prayer. The object of it seems to be, to explain the -saint's doctrine and illustrate it by examples, so as to bring it -more within the comprehension of the mass of the people. But we -are sorry to be obliged to say that the execution of the work -does not come up to the idea. Without commenting on the matter, -which is, in general, very good, we are compelled to say that the -style is faulty in the extreme; the sentences are mostly -un-English in their construction, and sometimes so long and -involved that they are hard to understand. It also abounds in -grammatical errors. In short, it is a pity it was not first -thoroughly overlooked and revised by a competent hand before -being allowed to go to press. However much we may desire to -commend this book, we cannot in conscience do so, so long as it -continues in its present dress. - ----- - - La Reforme en Italie, les Precurseurs: - Discours Historiques de César Cantu. - Traduits de l'Italien par Aniset - Digard et Edmond Martin. - Paris: Adrien le Clere, 29 Rue Cassette. 1867. - -Caesar Cantu is the author of the best universal history extant, -and of other historical works of the first class. He has -undertaken the task of crushing the destructive pseudo-reformers -of Italy under the weight of his massive historical erudition. -The first volume of the present work, which is the only one yet -published, brings down the subject to the 16th century, and will -be followed by three others. The author is a sound and orthodox -Catholic, yet, as a layman and as a historian, his work has not -the distinctively professional style and spirit which are usually -found in the works of ecclesiastical authors. He is fearless and -free in speaking the historical truth, even when it is -discreditable to ecclesiastical rulers and requires the exposure -of scandals and abuses in the church. His spirit is calm and -impartial, and the theological and ascetical elements are -carefully eliminated. He has gone back to the very origin of -Christianity, in order to trace the course of events from their -beginning, and has traced the outlines of the constitution of -historical Christianity. Church principles and dogmas are, -however, exhibited in a purely historical method, and as -essential portions of the history of facts and events. Such a -writer is terrible to parties whose opinions and schemes cannot -bear the light of history. The whole class of pseudo-reformers, -whether semi-Christian or openly infidel, are of this sort. Cantu -sweeps them off the track of history by the force and weight of -his erudition, as a locomotive tosses the stray cows on the track -of a railway, with broken legs, to linger and die in the meadows -at each side of it. It is only Catholic truth, either in the -supernatural or the natural order, which can bear investigation, -or survive the crucial test of history. The so-called Reformation -retains its hold on the respect of the world only through -ignorance. When history is better and more generally known, it -will be universally admitted that it was not only a great crime, -but a great blunder, a _faux pas_ in human progress. - ----- - - The Infant Bridal, and other Poems. - By Aubrey De Vere. London: MacMillan & Co. - -We are glad to see this book, rather for the memories than the -novelties it brings us. Almost all its contents have been -published in the author's other volumes, and there is nothing in -this to alter the opinions, either good or ill, that we took -occasion to express in a former review of them at large. The most -remarkable about the book is the selection of the republished -pieces. -{144} -It only verifies anew the observation that authors, no more than -we of the world, have the giftie to see themselves as others see -them. Some of the best poems are there, and some of the worst. -_The Infant Bridal_ and _The Search for Proserpine_ are -perhaps the very two poorest of all the author's longer -productions. Still, perhaps the many faults we fancy we see in -the tact of the compilation, only come to this--that we ourselves -would have compiled differently, and possibly worse. - -But we meet, all over these elegant tinted pages, lines and -beauties that we fondly remember loving of old--fine blank verse, -wonderful descriptions, delicious idyls. These latter, by the -way, are equally remarkable and unremarked. They are from the -same fount with Theocritus, Bion, and Moschus. We cannot resist -giving one extract, from _Glance_, p. 64: - - "Come forth, dear maid, the day is calm and cool, - And bright though sunless. Like a long green scarf, - The tall pines, crowning yon gray promontory, - In distant ether hang, and cut the sea. - But lovers better love the dell, for there - Each is the other's world. How indolently - The tops of those pale poplars, bending, sway - Over the violet-braided river brim! - Whence comes this motion? for no wind is heard, - And the long grasses move not, nor the reeds. - Here we will sit, and watch the rushes lean - Like locks, along the leaden-colored stream - Far off; and thou, O child, shall talk to me - Of Naiads and their loves." - -One more sample of the contents of this volume, and we have said -all there is to say. It is an unusual vein for De Vere, but one -in which, like Tennyson, he engages never lightly and always with -telling success. It is the close of _A Farewell to Naples_, -p. 255: - - "From her whom genius never yet inspired. - Or virtue raised, or pulse heroic fired; - From her who, in the grand historic page. - Maintains one barren blank from age to age; - From her, with insect life and insect buzz. - Who, evermore unresting, nothing does; - From her who, with the future and the past, - No commerce holds--no structure rears to last. - From streets where spies and jesters, side by side. - Range the rank markets and their gains divide; - Where faith in art, and art in sense is lost. - And toys and gewgaws form a nation's boast; - Where passion, from affection's bond cut loose, - Revels in orgies of its own abuse; - And appetite, from passion's portals thrust. - Creeps on its belly to its grave in dust; - Where vice her mask disdains, where fraud is loud. - And naught but wisdom dumb, and justice cowed; - Lastly, from her who planted here unawed, - 'Mid heaven-topped hills and waters bright and broad, - From these but nerves more swift to err has gained - And the dread stamp of sanctities profaned; - And, girt not less with ruin, lives to show - That worse than wasted weal is wasted woe-- - We part; forth issuing through her closing gate. - With unreverting faces, not ingrate." - -Cannot this book speak better for itself than our good word? - ----- - - Folks and Fairies. Stories for little children. - By Lucy Randall Comfort. - With engravings. New York: Harper & Brothers. 1868. - -Judging, not, however, from perusal, -but from hearsay, we think the pleasure -of Mrs. Comfort's juvenile readers would -be increased if she had given them more -"Folks" and less "Fairies." On the -same high authority we also protest -against some of the engravings, for example, -"Otho returning home," as illustrations -of the text. - ----- - - Books Received. - -From Leypoldt & Holt, New York: - - Mozart. A Biographical Romance. - From the German of Heribert Ran. - By E. R. Sill, 1 vol. 12mo, pp. 323. - - Easy French Reading: Being selections of historical tales and - anecdotes, arranged with copious foot-notes, containing - translations of the principal words, a progressive development - of the form of the verb, designations of the use of - prepositions and particles, and the idioms of the language. By - Professor Edward T. Fisher. To which is appended a brief French - grammar. By C. J. Delille. 1 vol. 12mo, pp. 232. - - -From Kelly & Piet, Baltimore: - - A Catechism of the Vows. - For the use of persons consecrated to - God in the religious state. - By the Rev. Father Peter Cotel, S.J. - -From Samuel R. Wells, New York: - - Oratory, Sacred and Secular: or, The Extemporaneous Speaker. - With sketches of the most eminent speakers of all ages. By - William Pittenger, author of Daring and Suffering. Introduction - by Hon. John A. Bingham, and appendix containing a Chairman's - Guide for conducting public meetings according to the best - parliamentary models, 1 vol. 12mo, pp. 220. - - Life in the West; or, Stories of the Mississippi Valley. - By N. C. Meeker, Agricultural Editor - of the New York Tribune, 1 vol. 12mo, pp. 360. - -From Lee & Shepard, Boston: - - Red Cross; or, Young America in England and Wales. - A story of Travel and Adventure. - By Oliver Optic, - 1 vol. 12mo, pp. 336. - --------------- - -{145} - - The Catholic World. - - Vol. VII., No. 38.--May, 1868. - - - Tennyson In His Catholic Aspects. - - -For a poet eminently modern and English in his modes of thought, -Tennyson is singularly free from the spirit of controversy. His -native land is distracted by religious feuds, yet he who has been -called "the recognized exponent of all the deeper thinkings of -his age," takes no active part in them, and seldom drops a line -that bespeaks the school of theology to which he belongs. At long -intervals, indeed, devout breathings escape him. Once now and -then he extracts a block of dogma from the deep quarry within, -and fixes it in an abiding place. He never scatters doubts -wantonly; he is always on the side of faith, though not perfect -and Catholic faith. He alludes to Christian doctrines as -postulates. For his purpose they need no proof. It would be idle -to prove anything if they were not true. They are the life of the -soul, and the vitality of verse. - - "Fly, happy, happy sails, and bear the press," - -he cries; but he adds this apostrophe likewise: - - "Fly happy with _the mission of the cross_." - - _The Golden Year._ - -He looks for the resurrection of the body, and bids the dry dust -of his friend (Spedding) "lie still, _secure of change_." -(_Lines to J. S._) When the spirit quits its earthly frame, -he follows it straight into the unseen world and the presence of -its Creator and God. He points to "the grand old gardener and his -wife" in "yon blue heavens," smiling at the claims of long -descent, (_Lady Clara Vere de Vere;_) and he speeds the soul -of the expiring May Queen toward the blessed home of just souls -and true, there to wait a little while for her mother and Effie: - - "To lie within the light of God, as I lie upon your breast-- - Where the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest." - - _The May Queen_. - -Intensely as he loves nature, Tennyson is no Pantheist. Though -like the wild Indian, he "sees God in clouds and hears him in the -wind," he does not therefore confound matter with its Maker, nor -lose sight of the personality of the Being whom he adores. He is -no disciple of fate or chance, but recognizes in all human -affairs the working of a divine and retributive providence, whose -final judgment of good and evil is foreshadowed and begun during -our mortal life. -{146} -To His presence and promptitude in reply to prayer, he refers -more than once in pathetic and pointed language. He tells us how -Enoch Arden, when cast away on a desert island, heard in his -dream "the pealing of his parish bells," and - - "Though he knew not wherefore, started up - Shuddering, and when the beauteous, hateful isle - Returned upon him, had not his poor heart - Spoken with that, which, being everywhere. - Lets none who speak with Him seem all alone, - Surely the man had _died of solitude_." - - _Enoch Arden._ - -It would not be difficult for those who are acquainted with -Tennyson's earlier history, to discover the church of which he is -a member, and the section of it whose views he adopts. _In -Memoriam_ takes us into the interior of his father's -parsonage, to the Christmas hearth decorated with laurel, and the -old pastimes in the hall; to the witch-elms and towering -sycamore, whose shadows his Arthur had often found so fair; to -the lawn where they read the Tuscan poets together; and the -banquet in the neighboring summer woods. We almost hear the songs -that then pealed from knoll to knoll, while the happy tenants of -the presbytery lingered on the dry grass till bats went round in -fragrant skies, and the white kine glimmered, couching at ease, -and the trees laid their dark arms about the field. "The merry, -merry bells of Yule," with their silver chime, are referred to -more than once in Tennyson's poems. They seem to be ever ringing -in his ears. They controlled him, he says, in his boyhood, and -they bring him sorrow touched with joy. - -It is in singing of Arthur Hallam that the poet's faith in the -immortality of the soul is brought out with beautiful clearness. -The bitterness of his grief draws him to the "comfort clasped in -truth revealed," and he looks forward with hope to the day when -he shall arrive at last at the blessed goal, and He who died in -Holy Land shall reach out the shining hand to him and his lost -friend, and take them "as a single soul." (_In Memoriam_, -lxxxiii.) - -From the verses addressed to the Rev. F. D. Maurice, (January, -1854.) we learn that one of Tennyson's children claims that -gentleman as his godfather, and we gather from it and other -poems, what all the Laureate's friends know, that his sympathies -are with the _Broad Church_, of which Mr. Maurice, Kingsley, -Temple, the Bishop of London, and Dr. Stanley are distinguished -leaders. It is one of the peculiarities of this school to -moderate the torments of the lost and to deny that they are -eternal, to hope that good will in some way be the final goal of -ill, and that every winter will at last change to spring. It -cannot be disputed that this teaching is at variance with -Catholic doctrine; but it is one which Tennyson puts forward with -singular modesty, describing himself as - - "An infant crying in the night; - An infant crying for the light; - And with no language but a cry." - - _In Memoriam_, liii. - -The _Broad Church_, as its name implies, professes large and -liberal views. Not wishing to be tried by too strict a standard -itself, it repudiates all harsh judgments on others. Accordingly, -we find in Tennyson few allusions to errors, real or supposed, in -the creed of others. He regards as sacred whatever links the soul -to a divine truth. He has many friends who are Catholics, and we -have heard that he has expressed sincere anxiety to publish -nothing relative to the Catholic religion calculated to give -offence to its followers. -{147} -There are few lines in his volumes which grate on the most pious -ear, and no devout breathings in which we do not cordially join. -It is in one of his earlier poems, and only in sport, that he -makes the Talking Oak tell of-- - - "Old summers, when the monk was fat, - And, issuing shorn and sleek, - Would twist his girdle tight, and pat - The girls upon the cheek, - Ere yet, in scorn of Peter's pence, - And numbered bead, and shrift. - Bluff Harry broke into the spence, - And turned the cowls adrift." - -In conning his verse, therefore, the Catholic mind is at ease; it -lights on no charges to be repelled, and (so far as we know, -after long and close study of every line he has published) no -mistakes regarding our faith which require to be rectified. There -are those who imagine that in _St. Simeon Stylites_, he has -wilfully misrepresented the character of a Catholic saint; but we -venture to entertain a more lenient opinion, and shall endeavor -presently to justify it. It is in a tone of irony, such as we -must admire, that he describes the "heated pulpiteer in chapel, -not preaching simple Christ to simple men," but fulminating -"against the scarlet woman and her creed," and swinging his arms -violently, as if he held the apocalyptic millstone, while he -predicts the speedy casting of great Babylon into the sea. -(_Sea Dreams_.) Nor are there wanting points of contact -between Tennyson's ideas on religious matters and some of those -dwelt on by Catholic divines. Thus he, like Dr. Newman, finds the -arguments for the existence of God drawn from the power and -wisdom discoverable in the works of nature, cold and inconclusive -in comparison with that one which arises from the voice of -conscience and the feelings of the heart. The cxxiiid section of -_In Memoriam_ runs singularly parallel with this beautiful -passage in the _Apologia_, (p. 377:) - - "Were it not for this voice, speaking so clearly in my - conscience and my heart, I should be an atheist, or a pantheist - or a polytheist, when I looked into the world. ... I am far - from denying the real force of the arguments in proof of a God, - drawn from the general facts of human society; but these do not - warm me or enlighten me; they do not take away the winter of my - desolation, or make the buds unfold and the leaves grow within - me, and my moral being rejoice." - -The arguments adduced by infidels, in support of their unbelief, -have never been rebutted in verse more cleverly than by Tennyson. -His blade flashes like lightning, and severs with as fine a -stroke as Saladin's scimitar. _The Two Voices_ may be cited -in proof, and also the following passages in the matchless elegy -on Arthur Hallam: - - The Fates not blind, (_In Memoriam_) iii. - - Life shall live for evermore. (_In Memoriam_) xxxiv. - - If Death were death, love - would not be true love, (_In Memoriam_) xxxv. - - Individuality defies the tomb, (_In Memoriam_) xlvi. - - Immortality, (_In Memoriam_) liv. lv. - - Doubt issuing in belief. (_In Memoriam_) xcv. - - Knowledge without wisdom. (_In Memoriam_) cxiii. - - Progress, (_In Memoriam_) cxvii. - - We are not all matter. (_In Memoriam_) cxix. - - The course of human things, (_In Memoriam_) cxxvii - -These verses are no doubt the record of a mental conflict carried -on during some years of the author's earlier life--a battle -between materialism and spiritualism, between faith and unbelief, -reason and sense. The _Two Voices_ is philosophy singing, as -_In Memoriam_ is philosophy in tears. The _English -Cyclopaedia_ well calls the last poem "wonderful," and adds: -"In no language, probably, is there another series of elegies so -deep, so metaphysical, so imaginative, so musical, and showing -such impassioned, abnormal, and solemnizing affection for the -dead." - -But it is now time to point to those passages in which Tennyson -may be said to have, more particularly, Catholic aspects. Be they -few or many, they are worth noticing, even though they prove -nothing but that a Protestant poet of the highest order has such -aspects, intense, striking, and lovely in no ordinary degree. -{148} -Every true poet is in a certain sense a divine creation, and -nothing but a celestial spark could ignite a Wordsworth, a -Longfellow, or an Emerson. It has ever been the delight of the -ancient church and her writers to discover portions of her truth -among those who are separated from her visible pale. Far from -grudging them these precious fragments, she only wishes they were -less scanty, and would willingly add to them till they reached -the full measure of the deposit of the faith. It would be easy to -make out a complete cycle of her doctrine in faith and morals -from the poems of Protestant and Mohammedan authors, but it would -be only by combining extracts from many who, in matters of -belief, differ widely from each other. In looking through the -Laureate's volumes for traces of the church's teaching, we are in -a special manner struck by his treatment of the invocation of the -departed. With what deep feeling does he invite the friend, who -is the subject of his immortal elegy, to be near him when his -light is low, when pain is at its height, when life is fading -away. (_In Memoriam_, xlix.) It reminds us of good Dr. -Johnson's prayer for the "attention and ministration" of his lost -wife, as Boswell has given it us. Can any Catholic express more -fully than the Laureate the frame of mind becoming those who -desire that the departed should still be near them at their side? -(_In Memoriam,_ 1.) - - "How pure at heart and _sound in head_, - _With what divine affections bold_. - Should be the man whose thoughts would hold - An hour's communion with the dead. - - "In vain shall thou, or any, call - The spirits from their golden day, - Except, like them, thou too canst say, - My spirit is at peace with all. - - "They haunt the silence of the breast, - Imaginations calm and fair, - The memory like a cloudless air, - The conscience as a sea at rest. - - "But when the heart is full of din, - _And doubt beside the portal waits_. - They can but listen at the gates. - And hear the household jar within." - - _In Memoriam_, xciii. - -"If I can," says the dying May Queen in _New Year's Eve_-- - - "If I can, I'll come again, mother, from out my resting-place; - Though you'll not see me, mother, _I shall look upon your face_; - Though I cannot speak a word, _I shall hearken what you say_, - _And be often, often with you, when you think I'm far away._" - -It is not, therefore, in a vague and dreamy way, but with the -full force of the understanding, that Tennyson invokes the -spirits in their place of rest. It is not merely as a poet, but -as a Christian, that he exclaims: - - "Oh! therefore, from thy sightless range, - With gods in unconjectured bliss. - Oh from the distance of the abyss - Of tenfold, complicated change, - - "Descend, and touch, and enter: hear - The wish too strong for words to name; - That in the blindness of the frame - My ghost may feel that thine is near." - - _In Memoriam_, xcii. - -We say "as a Christian;" for we warmly repudiate the harsh -interpretation which is often put on his words addressed to the -Son of God: - - "Thou _seemest_ human and divine, - The highest, holiest manhood thou." - -"See," it is said, "this is the most you can get from your -favorite about Christ--that he _seems_ divine. It is an -appearance, a semblance only." Now, this reasoning is most -unfair. The remainder of the verse implies his godhead-- - - "Our wills are ours, we know not how; - Our wills are ours, _to make them thine._" - -The verses which follow are a prayer to Christ, imploring from -him light and aid, wisdom and forgiveness. (Prefatory lines to -_In Memoriam_) -{149} -In fact, it is evident from other parts of Tennyson's elegy, that -he does not use the word _seem_ in the sense of appearing to -be what a thing is _not_, but in the sense of its appearing -to be _what it is_. Thus, in the fifth stanza, below the -lines just quoted, we have-- - - "Forgive what _seemed_ my sin in me; - What _seemed_ my worth since I began; - For merit lives from man to man, - And not from man, O Lord! to thee." - -So again, _In Memoriam_, xxxiii., - - "O thou that after toil and storm, - May'st _seem_ to have reached a purer air;" - -where "_seem_ to have reached" is equivalent to "thou who -_hast_ reached," with that delicate shade of difference only -which belongs to Greek rather than to English diction. Thus the -verb [Greek text] is repeatedly used in the New Testament as an -expletive, not meaningless to the ear, though adding no distinct -idea which can be expressed in a single word, [Greek text], (St. -Matt. iii. 9,) means to all intents, simply, "Say not in -yourselves," and [Greek text] (Gal. ii. 9) means, "who were -really the pillars they seemed to be." Such passages, it is true, -prove nothing as to Tennyson's use of the word _seem_, but -they do illustrate it. The perfect godhead of Christ is brought -out fully in the sermon preached by Averill in _Aylmer's -Field_. "The Lord from heaven, born of a village girl, -carpenter's son," is there styled in the prophet's words, -"Wonderful, Prince of Peace, the Mighty God." - -When the Laureate prays that his very worth may be forgiven, he -employs the language of deep humility which meets us so -constantly in the writings of Catholic saints. It reminds us of -their prayers to the Father of Lights that the best they have -ever done may be pardoned, that their tears may be washed, their -myrrh incensed, their spikenard's scent perfumed, and their -breathings after God fumigated. It is no shallow view that he -takes of repentance when he makes Queen Guinevere ask: - - "What is true repentance but in thought-- - Not e'en in inmost thought to think again - The sins that made the past so pleasant to us?" - - _Idylls of the King._ - -He has been accused of making St. Simeon Stylites a -self-righteous saint. That he makes him ambitious of saintdom is -true, but this hope which he "will not cease to grasp," is -fostered by no sense of his own merits, but, on the contrary, -springs from the deepest possible conviction of his unworthiness. -He describes himself as - - "The basest of mankind, - From scalp to sole one slough and crust of sin, - Unfit for earth, unfit for heaven, scarce meet - For troops of devils mad with blasphemy." - -He proclaims from his pillar, his "high nest of penance," - - "That Pontius and Iscariot by _his_ side - Showed like fair seraphs." - -He details, indeed, in language strikingly intense, his -sufferings, prayers, and penances; but he disclaims all praise on -account of them, and ascribes all his patience to the divine -bounty. He does not breathe or "whisper any murmur of complaint," -while he tells how his teeth - - "Would chatter with the cold, and all his beard - Was tagged with icy fringes in the moon;" - -how his "thighs were rotted with the dew;" and how - - "For many weeks about his loins he wore - The rope that haled the buckets from the well. - Twisted as tight as I could knot the noose;" - -yet the climax of it all is, "Have mercy, mercy: take away my -sin." - -The Catholic aspects in _St. Agnes' Eve_ and _Sir -Galahad_, are no less marked than those of _St. Simeon -Stylites_. -{150} -As a devout breathing of a dying nun, the first of these poems is -touching and exquisite. The snows lie deep on the convent-roof, -and the shadows of its towers "slant down the snowy sward," while -she prays and says: - - "As these white robes are soiled and dark. - To yonder shining ground; - As this pale taper's earthly spark, - To yonder argent round; - So shows my soul before the Lamb, - My spirit before Thee; - So in mine earthly house I am, - To that I hope to be." - -All heaven bursts its "starry floors," the gates roll back, the -heavenly Bridegroom waits to welcome and purify the sister's -departing soul. The vision dilates. It is mysteriously -vague--mysteriously distinct: - - "The sabbaths of eternity. - One sabbath deep and wide-- - A light upon the shining sea-- - The Bridegroom with his bride!" - -There is in such verse an indescribably Catholic tone. It is like -the heavenly music of faith, which pervades the _Paradise_ -of Dante, and which (in spite of the lax lives of the authors) -runs through the "Sacred Songs" of Moore, and the _Epistle of -Eloisa_, and _The Dying Christian's Address to his Soul_, -by Pope. But if Tennyson has proved equal to portraying a -Catholic saint, he has also depicted most graphically a Catholic -knight of romance. Sir Galahad, one of the ornaments of King -Arthur's court, (_Idylls of the King_., p. 213,) whose - - "strength is as the strength of ten, - Because his heart is pure," - -goes in quest of the Sangreal--the sacred wine. He hears the -noise of hymns amid the dark stems of the forest, sees in vision -the snowy altar-cloth with swinging censers and "silver vessels -sparkling clean." He sails, in magic barks, on "lonely mountain -meres," and catches glimpses of angels with folded feet "in -stoles of white," bearing the holy grail. - - "Ah! blessed vision! _blood of God!_ - My spirit beats her mortal bars. - As down dark tides the glory slides, - And star-light mingles with the stars. ... - So pass I hostel, hall, and grange. - By bridge and ford, by park and pale. - All armed I ride, whate'er betide. - Until I find the holy grail." - - _Poems_, p. 336. - -A Catholic aspect may sometimes be observed in a single word. -"And so thou lean on our fair father Christ," (_Idylls, -Guinevere_, p. 254,) may perhaps sound strange to some ears, -and is familiar to Catholics only. "He alone is our inward life," -says Dr. Newman, speaking of Christ; "He not only regenerates us, -but (to allude to a higher mystery) _semper gignit_; he is -ever renewing our new birth and our heavenly sonship. In this -sense he may be called, _as in nature so in grace, our real -Father_." (_Letter to Dr. Pusey_, p. 89.) Hence, in the -Litany of the Holy Name we say, "Jesu, _Pater_ futuri -seculi," and "Jesu, _Pater_ pauperum." - -The Catholic who well understands his own faith will always be -very scrupulous about disturbing that of others. If there is -anything abhorrent to him, "it is the scattering doubt and -unsettling consciences without necessity." (_Newman's -Apologia_, p. 344.) There is a well-known poem in _In -Memoriam_, (xxxiii.,) which admirably illustrates this -feeling. We quote but one verse, as the reader's memory will no -doubt supply the rest. - - "Leave thou thy sister, when she prays, - Her early heaven, her happy views; - Nor thou with shadowed hint confuse - A life that leads melodious ways." - -The theory and practice of the wisest Catholics conform to the -spirit and letter of this injunction. Their devotional life, too, -is perfectly reflected in Tennyson whenever he writes of prayer. -{151} -There is a depth of feeling in his expressions on this subject -which reaches to the fact that prayer is the truest -religion--that it is the link which unites man more closely to -his Creator than any outward acts, any meditations, any professed -creed, and is the spring and current of religious life. - - "Evermore - _Prayer_ from a living source within the will, - And beating up through all the bitter world, - Like fountains of sweet water in the sea, - Kept him a living soul" - - _Enoch Arden_, p. 44. - - "Thrice blest _whose lives are faithful prayers_. - Whose loves in higher love endure: - What souls possess themselves so pure? - Or is there blessedness like theirs?" - - _In Memoriam_, xxxii. - -Thus again, in the _Morte d'Arthur_, which was a forecast of -_The Idylls of the King_, we are reminded of the efficacy of -prayer in language worthy of being put into a Catholic's lips: - - "Pray for my soul. _More things are wrought by prayer_ - _Than this world dreams of_. Wherefore, let thy voice - Rise like a fountain for me night and day. - For what are men better than sheep or goats. - That nourish a blind life within the brain, - If, knowing God, they lift not hands of prayer - Both for themselves and those who call them friend? - _For so the whole round earth is every way - Bound by gold chains about the feet of God._" - -In the following lines, on the rarity of repentance, there is a -reference to the coöperation of human will with divine grace, -which equals the precision of a Catholic theologian: - - "Full seldom _does_ a man repent, or _use_ - _Both grace and will_ to pick the vicious quitch - _Of blood and custom_ wholly out of him. - And make all clean, and plant himself afresh." - - _Idylls of the King_, p. 93. - -In the same poem we find lines of a distinctly Catholic tone on -the repentant queen's entering a convent, and on a knight who had -long been the tenant of a hermitage. Guinevere speaks as follows: - - "So let me, _if you do not shudder at me_, - Nor shun to call me sister, dwell with you; - Wear black and white, and be a nun like you; - Fast with your fasts, _not feasting with your feasts_; - Grieve with your griefs, not grieving at your joys. - _Bid not rejoicing_; mingle with your rites; - Pray and be prayed for; _lie before your shrines_; - Do each low office of your holy house; - Walk your dim cloister, and distribute dole - To poor sick people, richer in his eyes - Who ransomed us, and haler, too, than I; - And treat their loathsome hurts, and heal mine own; - And so wear out in almsdeed and in prayer - The sombre close of that voluptuous day - Which wrought the ruin of my lord the king." - - _Idylls of the King_, p. 260. - -The hermitage is thus described: - - "There lived a knight - Not far from Camelot, now for forty years - A hermit, _who had prayed, labored, and prayed_. - And ever laboring had scooped himself - In the white rock a chapel and a hall - On massive columns, like a shorecliff cave. - And cells and chambers: all were fair and dry." - - _Idylls of the King_, p. 168. - -Among Tennyson's earlier poems, the picture of Isabel, "the -perfect wife," with her "_hate of gossip parlance, and of -sway_," her - - "locks not wide dispread. - Madonna-wise on either side her head; - Sweet lips whereon perpetually did reign - The summer calm of golden charity;" - -and - - "Eyes not down-dropt nor over-bright, but fed - With the clear-pointed flame of chastity," - - _Poems_, pp. 7, 8, - -is worthy of a Catholic matron. The description of St. Stephen, -in _The Two Voices_, has all the depth and pathos of the -poet's happiest mood; and, though neither it, nor some other -passages which have been quoted, contain anything distinctively -Catholic as opposed to other forms of Christianity, it is -strongly marked with those orthodox instincts to which we are -drawing attention: - - "I cannot hide that some have striven, - _Achieving calm_, to whom was given - The joy that mixes man with heaven; - Who, rowing hard against the stream, - Saw distant gates of Eden gleam. - And did not dream it was a dream; - But heard, by secret transport led, - E'en in the charnels of the dead, - The murmur of the fountain-head-- - Which did accomplish their desire, - Bore and forbore, and did not tire; - Like Stephen, an unquenched fire, - He heeded not reviling tones. - Nor sold his heart to idle moans. - Though cursed, and scorned, and bruised with stones; - But looking upward, full of grace. - He prayed, and from a happy place - God's glory smote him on the face." - - _Poems_, p. 299. - -{152} - -We are anxious not to appear to lay undue stress on these -extracts. Let them go for as much as they are worth, and no more. -We do not stretch them on any Procrustean bed to the measure of -orthodox. Others might be adduced, of a latitudinarian tendency, -but they are few in number, and do not neutralize the force of -these. In view of many passages in Shakespeare of a Catholic -bearing, and of several facts favorable to the belief that he was -a Catholic, M. Rio has come to the probably sound conclusion that -he really was what he himself wishes to prove him. We put no such -forced interpretation on our extracts from Tennyson as M. Rio has -certainly put on many which he has brought forward from the -Elizabethan poet; but we think that they are sufficiently cast in -a Catholic mould to warrant us in applying to Tennyson the words -which Carlyle has used in reference to his predecessor: -"Catholicism, with and against feudalism, but not against nature -and her bounty, gave us English a Shakespeare and era of -Shakespeare, and so produced _a blossom of Catholicism_." -(_French Revolution_, vol. i. 10.) - -But religion, as we have said, does not occupy a prominent place -in Tennyson's pages. He is, in the main, like the great -dramatist--a poet of this world. Love and women are his favorite -themes, but love within the bounds of law, and woman strongly -idealized. License finds in him no apologist, while he throws -around purity and fidelity all the charms of song. The most rigid -moralist can find nothing to censure in his treatment of the -guilty love of Lancelot and Guinevere, the wedded love of Enid -and Geraint, the meretricious love of Vivien, and the unrequited -love of Elaine. If Milton had, as he intended, [Footnote 43] -chosen King Arthur as the subject of his epic, he could not have -taken a higher moral tone than Tennyson has in the _Idylls of -the King_, and, considering how lax were his notions about -marriage, it is probable he would have taken a lower one. - - [Footnote 43: See his _Mansas_, and Life, by Toland, p. - 17.] - -King Arthur's praise of honorable courtship and conjugal faith is -too long to be quoted here, but it may be referred to as equally -eloquent and edifying. (_Idylls of the King_.) - -The Laureate has learned at least one secret of making a great -name--not to write too much. "I hate many books," wrote Père -Lacordaire. "The capital point is, to have an aim in life, and -deeply to respect posterity by sending it but a small number of -well-meditated works." This has been Tennyson's rule. With six -slender volumes he has built himself an everlasting name. He has, -till within the last few months, seldom contributed to -periodicals, and when he has done so, the price paid for his -stanzas seems fabulous. The estimation in which he is held by -critics of a high order amounts, in many cases, to a passion and -a worship. The specimen he has given of a translation of the -_Iliad_ promises for it, if completed, all that Longfellow -has wrought for the _Divina Commedia_. The attempts he has -made at _Alcaics, Hendecasyllabics_, and _Galliambics_ -in English have been thoroughly successful, and stamp him as an -accomplished scholar. (_Boädicea_, etc., in _Enoch Arden -and other Poems_.) As he does not write much, so neither does -he write fast. The impetuous oratory of Shakespeare's and Byron's -verse is unknown to him. He never affects it. He reminds us -rather of the operations of nature, who slowly and calmly, but -without difficulty, produces her marvellous results. -{153} -Drop by drop his immortal poems are distilled, like the -chalybeate droppings which leave at length on the cavern floor a -perfect red and crystal stalagmite. "Day by day," says the -_National Review_, when speaking on this subject--"day by -day, as the hours pass, the delicate sand falls into beautiful -forms, in stillness, in peace, in brooding." "The particular -power by which Mr. Tennyson surpasses all recent English poets," -writes the _Edinburgh Review_, "is that of sustained -perfection. ... We look in vain among his modern rivals for any -who can compete with him in the power of saying beautifully the -thing he has to say." - - O degli altri poeti onore e lume, - Vagliami 'l lungo studio e 'l grande amore - Che m' han fatto cercar lo tuo volume. [Footnote 44] - - [Footnote 44: _L Inferno_, i. 82.] - -During a long period, the originality of Tennyson's verse was an -obstacle to its fame, and indeed continues to be so in the minds -of some readers. His use of obsolete words appears to many -persons affected, while others applaud him for his vigorous -Saxon, believing, with Dean Swift, that the Saxon element in our -compound tongue should be religiously preserved, and that the -writers and speakers who please us most are those whose style is -most Saxon in its character. If Tennyson has modelled his verse -after any author, it is undoubtedly Shakespeare, and the traces -of this study may perhaps be found in his vocabulary. Yet no man -is less of a plagiarist; not only his forms of thought but of -language also are original, and though he owes much to the early -dramatists, to Wordsworth and to Shelley, he fuses all metals in -the alembic of his own mind, and turns them to gold. His love of -nature is intense, and his observation of her works is -microscopic. Yet he is never so occupied with details as to lose -sight of broad outlines. In 1845, Wordsworth spoke of him as -"decidedly the first of our living poets;" but since that time -his fame has been steadily on the increase. Many of his lines -have passed into proverbs, and a crowd of feebly fluttering -imitators have vainly striven to rival him on the wing. What the -people once called a weed has grown into a tall flower, wearing a -crown of light, and flourishing far and wide. (_The Flower. -Enoch Arden_, etc., p. 152.) A concordance to _In -Memoriam_ has been published, and the several editions of the -Laureate's volumes have been collated as carefully as if they -were works of antiquity. Every ardent lover of English poetry is -familiar with Mariana, "in the lonely moated grange;" the good -Haroun Alraschid among his obelisks and cedars; Oriana wailing -amid the Norland whirlwinds; the Lady Shalott in her "four gray -walls and four gray towers;" the proud Lady Clara Vere de Vere; -the drowsy Lotos-Eaters; the chaste and benevolent Godiva; Maud -in her garden of "woodbine spices;" the true love of the Lord of -Burleigh, and the reward of honest Lady Clare. The highest praise -of these ballads is that they have sunk into the nation's heart. -They combine the chief excellences of other bards, and remind us -of some delicious fruit which unites in itself a variety of the -most exquisite flavors. This richness and sweetness may be -ascribed in part to that remarkable condensation of thought which -enriches one page of Tennyson with as many ideas and images as -would, in most other poets, be found scattered over two or three -pages. "We must not expect," wrote Shenstone in one of his -essays, "to trace the flow of Waller, the landskip of Thomson, -the fire of Dryden, the imagery of Shakespeare, the simplicity of -Spenser, the courtliness of Prior, the humor of Swift, the wit of -Cowley, the delicacy of Addison, the tenderness of Otway, and the -invention, the spirit, and sublimity of Milton, joined in any -single writer." Perhaps not. -{154} -But Shenstone had never read Tennyson, and there is no knowing -what he might have thought if he had conned the calm majesty of -_Ulysses_; the classical beauty of _Tithonus_ and the -_Princess_; the luxuriant eloquence of _Locksley Hall_; -the deep lyrical flow of _The Letters_ and _The -Voyage_; the _'cute_ drollery of the _Northern -Farmer_; the idyllic sweetness of _OEnone_; the grandeur -of _Morte d'Arthur_; the touching simplicity of _Enoch -Arden_; the power and pathos of _Aylmer's Field_; the -perfect minstrelsy of the _Rivulet_, and the songs, _O -Swallow, Swallow_, and _Tears, Idle Tears_; and the -sharps and trebles of the _Brook_, more musical than -Mendelssohn. - -Far be it from us to carp at any poetry because it proceeds from -one who is not a Catholic. We believe, indeed, firmly that, if -Tennyson had been imbued with the ancient faith, it would have -cleared some vagueness both from his mind and his verse. But in -these days, when Socinianism, positivism, and free-thinking in -various shapes are taking such strong hold of educated men, we -rejoice unfeignedly to find popular writings marked, even in an -imperfect degree, with Christian doctrine and feeling. The -influence exerted by the Laureate in the world of letters is -great, and we have, therefore, endeavored at some length to show -how far it is favorable, and how far unfavorable, to the cause of -truth. Though unhappily not a Catholic, we recognize with delight -the fact that he is not an infidel, and we feel persuaded that -some at least of our readers will be pleased at our having placed -in a prominent point of view the redeeming features in the -religious character of his poetry. - -------------- - - Poland - - When, fixed in righteous wrath, a nation's eye - Torments some crowned tormentor with just hate. - Nor threat nor flattery can that gaze abate; - Unshriven the unatoning years go by; - For as that starry archer in the sky - Unbends not his bright bow, though early and late - The syren sings, and folly weds with fate, - Even so that constellated destiny - Which keeps fire-vigil in a night-black heaven, - Upon the countenance of the doomed looks forth - Consentient with a nation's gaze on earth: - To the twinned powers a single gaze is given; - The earthly fate reveals the fate on high-- - A brazen serpent raised, that says, not "live," but "die." - - Aubrey de Vere. - -------------- - -{155} - - Professor Draper's Books. [Footnote 45] - - [Footnote 45: - 1. _Human Physiology, Statical and Dynamical; - or, Conditions and Course of the Life of Man_. - By J. W. Draper, M.D., LL.D., Professor of Chemistry - and Physiology in the University of New York. - New York: Harper & Brothers. 1856. 8vo, pp. 649. - - 2. _History of the Intellectual Development of Europe_. - By the same. Fifth edition. 1867. 8vo, pp. 628 - - 3. _Thoughts on the Civil Policy of America_. - By the same. Third edition. 1867. 8vo, pp. 323. - - 4. _History of the American Civil War_. - By the same. In three volumes. - Vol. I. 1867. 8vo, pp. 567.] - -Professor Draper's works have had, and are having, a very rapid -sale, and are evidently very highly esteemed by that class of -readers who take an interest, without being very profoundly -versed, in the grave subjects which he treats. He is, we believe, -a good chemist and a respectable physiologist. His work on Human -Physiology, we have been assured by those whose judgment in such -matters we prefer to our own, is a work of real merit, and was, -when first published, up to the level of the science to which it -is devoted. We read it with care on its first appearance, and the -impression it left on our mind was, that the author yields too -much to the theory of chemical action in physiology, and does not -remember that man is the union of soul and body, and that the -soul modifies, even in the body, the action of the natural laws; -or rather, that the physiological laws of brute matter, or even -of animals, cannot be applied to man without many important -reserves. The Professor, indeed, recognizes, or says he -recognizes, in man a rational soul, or an immaterial principle; -but the recognition seems to be only a verbal concession, made to -the prejudices of those who have some lingering belief in -Christianity, for we find no use for it in his physiology. All -the physiological phenomena he dwells on he explains without it, -that is, as far as he explains them at all. Whatever his personal -belief may be, his doctrine is as purely materialistic as is Mr. -Herbert Spencer's, which explains all the phenomena of life by -the mechanical, chemical, and electrical changes and combinations -of matter. - -It is due to Professor Draper to say, that in this respect he -only sins in common with the great body of modern physiologists. -Physiology--indeed, all the inductive sciences--have been for a -long time cast in a materialistic mould, and men of firm faith, -and sincere and ardent piety, are materialists, and, therefore, -atheists, the moment they enter the field of physical science, -and deny in their science what they resolutely affirm and would -die for in their faith. Hence the quarrel between the theologians -and the _savans_. The _savans_ have not reconciled -their so-called science with the great theological truths, -whether of reason or revelation, which only the fool doubts, or -in his heart denies. This proves that our physicists have made -far less progress in the sciences than they are in the habit of -boasting. That cannot be true in physiology which is false in -theology; and a physiology that denies all reality but matter, or -finds no place in it for God and the human soul, is no true -physiological science. The physiologist has far less evidence of -the existence of matter than I have of the existence of spirit; -and it is only by spirit that the material is apprehensible, or -can be shown to exist. Matter only mimics or imitates spirit. -{156} -The continual changes that take place from time to time in -physiology show--we say it with all deference to -physiologists--that it has not risen as yet to the dignity of a -science. It is of no use to speak of progress, for changes which -transform the whole body of a pretended science are not progress. -We may not have mastered all the facts of a science; we may be -discovering new facts every day; but if we have, for instance, -the true physiological science, the discovery of new facts may -throw new light on the science--may enable us to see clearer its -reach, and understand better its application, but cannot change -or modify its principles. As long as your pretended science is -liable to be changed in its principles, it is a theory, an -hypothesis, not a science. Physiologists have accumulated a large -stock of physiological facts, to which they are daily adding new -facts. We willingly admit these facts are not useless, and the -time spent in collecting them is not wasted; on the contrary, we -hold them to be valuable, and appreciate very highly the labor, -the patient research, and the nice observation that has -collected, classified, and described them; but we dare assert, -notwithstanding, that the science of physiology is yet to be -created; and created it will not be till physiologists have -learned and are able to set forth the dialectic relations of -spirit and matter, soul and body, God and nature, free-will and -necessity. Till then there may be known facts, but there will be -no physiological science. As far as what is called the science of -human life, or human physiology, goes, Professor Draper's work is -an able and commendable work; but he must permit us to say that -the real science of physiology he has not touched, has not -dreamed of; nor have any of his brethren who see in the human -soul only a useless appendage to the body. The soul is the -_forma corporis_, its informing, its vital principle, and -pervades, so to speak, and determines, or modifies, the whole -life and action of the human body, from the first instant of -conception to the very moment of death. The human body does not -exist, even in its embryonic state, first as a vegetable, then as -an animal, and afterward as united to an immaterial soul. It is -body united to soul from the first instant of conception, and man -lives, in any stage of his existence, but one and the same human -life. There is no moment after conception when the wilful -destruction of the foetus is not the murder of a human life. - -As we said on a former occasion, or at least implied, man, though -the ancients called him a microcosm, the universe in little, and -contains in himself all the elements of nature, is neither a -mineral nor a vegetable, nor simply an animal, and the analogies -which the physiologist detects between him and the kingdoms below -him, form no scientific basis of human physiology, for like is -not same. There may be no difference that the microscope or the -crucible can detect between the blood of an ox and the blood of a -man; for the microscope and chemical tests are in both cases -applied to the dead subject, not the living, and the human blood -tested is withdrawn from the living action of the soul, an action -that escapes the most powerful microscope, and the most subtile -chemical agent. Comparative physiology may gratify the curiosity, -and, when not pressed beyond its legitimate bounds, it may even -be useful, and help us to a better understanding of our own -bodies; but it can never be the basis of a scientific induction, -because between man and all animals there is the difference of -species. -{157} -Comparative physiology is, therefore, unlike comparative -philology; for, however diverse may be the dialects compared, -there is no difference of species among them, and nothing hinders -philological inductions from possessing, in the secondary order, -a true scientific character. Physiological inductions, resting on -the comparative study of different individuals, or different -races or families of men, may also be truly scientific; for all -these individuals, and all these races or families belong to one -and the same species. But the comparative physiology that -compares men and animals, gives only analogies, not science. - -We do not undervalue science; on the contrary, what we complain -of is, that our physiologists do not give us science; they give -us facts, theories, or hypotheses. Facts are not science till -referred to the principles that explain them, and these -principles themselves are not science till integrated in the -principles of that high and universal science called theology, -and which is really the science of the sciences. The men who pass -for _savans_, and are the hierophants and lawgivers of the -age, sin not by their science, but by their want of science. -Their ideal of science is too low and grovelling. Science is -vastly more than they conceive it; is higher, deeper, broader -than they look; and the best of them are, as Newton said of -himself, mere boys picking up shells on the shores of the great -ocean of truth. They, at best, remain in the vestibule of the -temple of science; they have not entered the penetralia and knelt -before the altar. We find no fault with Professor Draper's -science, where science he has; we only complain of him for -attempting to palm off upon us his ignorance for science, and -accepting, and laboring to make us accept as science what is -really no science. Yet he is not worse than others of his class. - -The second work named in our list is the professor's attempt to -extend the principles of his human physiology to the human race -at large, and to apply them specially to the intellectual -development of Europe; the third is an attempt to apply them to -the civil policy of America, and the fourth is an attempt to get -a counter-proof of his theories in the history of our late civil -war. Through the four works we detect one and the same purpose, -one and the same doctrine, of which the principal _data_ are -presented in his work on human physiology, which is cast in a -purely materialistic mould. They are all written to show that all -philosophy, all religion, all morality, and all history are to be -physiologically explained, that is, by fixed, inflexible, and -irreversible natural laws. He admits, in words, that man has -free-will, but denies that it influences events or anything in -the life and conduct of men. He also admits, and claims credit -for admitting, a Supreme Being, as if there could be subordinate -beings, or any being but one who declares himself I AM THAT AM; -but a living and ever-present God, Creator, and upholder of the -universe, finds no recognition in his physiological system. His -God, like the gods of the old Epicureans, has nothing to do, but, -as Dr. Evarist de Gypendole, in his _Ointment for the Bite of -the Black Serpent_, happily expresses it, to "sleep all night -and to doze all day." He is a superfluity in science, like the -immaterial soul in the author's _Human Physiology_. All -things, in Professor Draper's system, originate, proceed from, -and terminate in, natural development, with a most superb -contempt for the _ratio sufficiens_ of Leibnitz, and the -first and final cause of the theologians and philosophers. -{158} -The only God his system recognizes is natural law, the law of the -generation and death of phenomena, and distinguishable from -nature only as the _natura naturans_ is distinguishable from -the _natura naturata_ of Spinoza. His system is, therefore, -notwithstanding his concessions to the Christian prejudices which -still linger with the unscientific, a system of pure naturalism, -and differs in no important respect from the _Religion -Positive_ of M. Augusta Comte. - -The Duke of Argyle, in his _Reign of Law_, which we reviewed -last February, a man well versed in the modern sciences, sought, -while asserting the universal reign of law, to escape this system -of pure naturalism, by defining law to be "will enforcing itself -with power," or making what are called the laws of nature the -direct action of the divine Will. But this asserted activity only -for the divine Being, therefore denied second causes, and bound -not only nature, but the human will fast in fate, or rather, -absorbed man and nature in God; for man and nature do and can -exist only in so far as active, or in some sense causative. The -passive does not exist, and to place all activity in God alone is -to deny the creation of active existences or second causes, which -is the very essence of pantheism. Professor Draper and the -positivists, whom he follows, reverse the shield, and absorb not -man and nature in God, but both God and man in nature. John and -James are not Peter, but Peter is James and John. There is no -real difference between pantheism and atheism; both are absurd, -but the absurdity of atheism is more easily detected by the -common mind than the absurdity of pantheism. The one loses God by -losing unity. and the other by losing diversity, or everything -distinguishable from God. The God of the atheist is not, and the -God of the pantheist is as if he were not, and it makes no -practical difference whether you say God is all or all is God. - -To undertake a critical review of these several works would -exceed both our space and our patience, and, moreover, were a -task that does not seem to be called for. Professor Draper, we -believe, ranks high among his scientific brethren. He writes in a -clear, easy, graceful, and pleasing style, but we have found -nothing new or profound in his works. His theories are almost as -old as the hills, and even older, if the hills are no older than -he pretends. His work on the Intellectual Development of Europe, -is in substance, taken from the positivists, and the positivist -philosophy is only a reproduction, with no scientific advance on -that of the old physiologers or hylozoists, as Cudworth calls -them. He agrees perfectly with the positivists in the recognition -of three ages or epochs, we should rather say stages, in human -development; the theological, the metaphysical, and the -scientific or positivist. In the theological age, man is in his -intellectual infancy, is filled with sentiments of fear and -wonder; ignorant of natural causes and effects, of the natural -laws themselves, he sees the supernatural in every event that -surpasses his understanding or experience, and bows before a God -in every natural force superior to his own. It is the age of -ignorance, wonder, credulity, and superstition. In the second the -intellect has been, to a certain extent, developed, and the gross -fetichism of the first age disappears, and men no longer worship -the visible apis, but the invisible apis, the spiritual or -metaphysical apis; not the bull, but, as the North American -Indian says, "the manitou of bulls;" and instead of worshipping -the visible objects of the universe, as the sun, moon, and stars, -the ocean and rivers, groves and fountains, storms and tempests, -as did polytheism in the outset, they worship certain -metaphysical abstractions into which they have refined them, and -which they finally generalize into one grand abstraction, which -they call Zeus, Jupiter, Jehovah, Theus, Deus, or God, and thus -assert the Hebrew and Christian monotheism. -{159} -In the third and last age there is no longer fetichism, -polytheism, or monotheism; men no longer divinize nature, or -their own abstractions, no longer believe in the supernatural or -the metaphysical or anything supposed to be supramundane, but -reject whatever is not sensible, material, positive as the object -of positive science. - -The professor develops this system with less science than its -inventor or reviver, M. Auguste Comte and his European disciples; -but as well as he could be expected to do it, in respectable -English. He takes it as the basis of his _History of the -Intellectual Development of Europe_, and attempts to reconcile -with it all the known and unknown facts of that development. We -make no quotations to prove that we state the professor's -doctrine correctly, for no one who has read him, with any -attention, will question our statement; and, indeed, we might -find it difficult to quote passages which clearly and expressly -confirm it, for it is a grave complaint against him, as against -nearly all writers of his school, that they do not deal in clear -and express statements of doctrine. Had Professor Draper put -forth what is evidently his doctrine in clear, simple, and -distinct propositions, so that his doctrine could at once be seen -and understood, his works, instead of going through several -editions, and being commended in reviews and journals, as -scientific, learned, and profound, would have fallen dead from -the press, or been received with a universal burst of public -indignation; for they attack everything dear to the heart of the -Christian, the philosopher, and the citizen. Nothing worse is to -be found in the old French Encyclopedists, in the _Système de -la Nature_ of D'Holbach, or in _l'Homme-Plant_, and -_l'Homme-Machine_ of Lamettrie. His doctrine is nothing in -the world but pure materialism and atheism, and we do not believe -the American people are as yet prepared to deny either God, or -creation and Providence. The success of these authors is in their -vagueness, in their refusal to reduce their doctrine to distinct -propositions, in hinting, rather than stating it, and in -pretending to speak always in the name of science, thus: "Science -shows this," or "Science shows that;" when, if they knew anything -of the matter, they would know that science does no such thing. -Then, how can you accuse Professor Draper of atheism or -materialism; for does he not expressly declare his belief, as a -man of science, in the existence of the Supreme Being, and in an -immaterial and immortal soul? What Dr. Draper believes or -disbelieves, is his affair, not ours; we only assert that the -doctrine he defends in his professedly scientific books, from -beginning to end, is purely physiological, and has no God or soul -in it. As a man. Dr. Draper may believe much; as an author, he is -a materialist and an atheist, beyond all dispute: if he knows it, -little can be said for his honesty; if he does not know it, -little can be said for his science, or his competency to write on -the intellectual development of Europe, or of any other quarter -of the globe. - -{160} - -But to return to the theory the professor borrows from the -positivists. As the professor excludes from his physiology the -idea of creation, we cannot easily understand how he determines -what is the infancy of the human race, or when the human race was -in its infancy. If the race had no beginning, if, like Topsy, "it -didn't come, but grow'd," it had no infancy; if it had a -beginning, and you assume its earliest stage was that of infancy, -then it is necessary to know which stage is the earliest, and -what man really was in that stage. Hence, chronology becomes -all-important, and, as the author's science rejects all received -chronology, and speaks of changes and events which took place -millions and millions of ages ago, and of which there remains no -record but that chronicled in the rocks; but, as in that record -exact dates are not given, chronology, with him, whether of the -earth or of man, must be very uncertain, and it seems to us that -it must be very difficult for science to determine, with much -precision, when the race was, or what it was, in its infancy. -Thus he says: - - "In the intellectual infancy of the savage state, man transfers - to nature his conceptions of himself, and, considering that - everything he does is determined by his own pleasure, regards - all passing events as depending on the arbitrary volition of a - superior but invisible power. He gives to the world a - constitution like his own. The tendency is _necessarily_ - to superstition. Whatever is strange, or powerful, or vast, - impresses his imagination with dread. Such objects are only the - outward manifestations of an indwelling spirit, and, therefore, - worthy of his veneration." (_Intellect. Devel_. p. 2.) - -We beg the professor's pardon, but he has only imperfectly -learned his lesson. In this which he regards as the age of fetich -worship, and the first stage of human development, he includes -ideas and conceptions which belong to the second, or metaphysical -age of his masters. But let this pass for the present. The author -evidently assumes that the savage state is the intellectual -infancy of the race. But how knows he that it is not the -intellectual old age and decrepitude of the race? The author, -while he holds, or appears to hold, like the positivists, to the -continuous progress of the race, does not hold to the continuous -progress of any given nation. - - "A national type," he says, (ch. xi.,) "pursues its way - physically and intellectually through changes and developments - answering to those of the individual represented by infancy, - youth, manhood, old age, and death respectively." - -How, then, say scientifically that your fetich age, or the age of -superstition, the theological age of the positivists, instead -being the infancy of the nation, is not its last stage next -preceding death? How determine physiologically or scientifically -that the savage is the infant man and not the worn-out man? Then -how determine that the superstition of which you have so much to -say, and which, with you, means religion, revelation, the church, -everything that claims to be, or that asserts, anything -supernatural, is not characteristic of the last stage of human -development, and not of the first? - -Our modern physiologists and anti-Christian speculators seem all -to take it for granted that the savage gives us the type of the -primitive man. We refuted this absurd notion in our essay on -_Faith and the Sciences_. There are no known historical -facts to support it. Consult the record chronicled in the rocks, -as read by geologists. What does it prove? -{161} -Why, in the lowest and most ancient strata in which human remains -are found, along with those of extinct species of animals, you -find that the men of that epoch used stone implements, and were -ignorant of metals or unable to work them, and, therefore, must -have been savages. That is, the men who lived then, and in that -locality. Be it so. But does this prove that there did not, -contemporary with them, in other localities or in other quarters -of the globe, live and flourish nations in the full vigor of the -manhood of the race, having all the arts and implements of -civilized life? Did the savages of New England, when first -discovered, understand working in iron, and used they not stone -axes, and stone knives, many of which we have ourselves picked -up? And was it the same with Europeans? From the rudeness and -uncivilized condition of a people in one locality, you can -conclude nothing as to the primitive condition of the race. - -The infancy of the race, if there is any justice in the analogy -assumed, is the age of growth, of progress; but nothing is less -progressive, or more strictly stationary, in a moral and -intellectual sense, than the savage state. Since history began, -there is not only no instance on record of a savage tribe rising -by indigenous effort to civilization, but none of a purely savage -tribe having ever, even by foreign assistance, become a civilized -nation. The Greeks in the earliest historical or semi-historical -times, were not savages, and we have no evidence that they ever -were. The Homeric poems were never the product of a savage -people, or of a people just emerging from the savage state into -civilization, and they are a proof that the Greeks, as a people, -had juster ideas of religion, and were less superstitious in the -age of Homer than in the age of St. Paul. The Germans are a -civilized people, and if they were first revealed to us as what -the Greeks and Romans called _barbarians_, they were never, -as far as known, savages. We all know how exceedingly difficult -it is to civilize our North American Indians. Individuals now and -then take up the elements of our civilization, but rarely, if -they are of pure Indian blood. They recoil before the advance of -civilization. The native Mexicans and Peruvians have, indeed, -received some elements of Christian civilization along with the -Christian faith and worship; but they were not, on the discovery -of this continent, pure savages, but had many of the elements of -a civilized people, and that they were of the same race with the -savages that roamed our northern forests, is not yet proved. The -historical probabilities are not on the side of the hypothesis of -the modern progressivists, but are on the side of the contrary -doctrine, that the savage state belongs to the old age of the -race--is not that from which man rises, but that into which he -falls. - -Nor is there any historical evidence that superstition is older -than religion, that men begin in the counterfeit and proceed to -the genuine,--in the false, and proceed by way of development to -the true. They do not abuse a thing before having it. -Superstition presupposes religion, as falsehood presupposes -truth; for falsehood being unable to stand by itself, it is only -by the aid of truth that it can be asserted. "Fear made the -gods," sings Lucretius; but it can make none where belief in the -gods, does not already exist. Men may transfer their own -sentiments and passions to the divinity; but they must believe -that the divinity exists before they can do it. -{162} -They must believe that God is, before they can hear him in the -wind, see him in the sun and stars, or dread him in the storm and -the earthquake. It is not from dread of the strange, the -powerful, or the vast, that men develop the idea of God, the -spiritual, the supernatural; the dread presupposes the presence -and activity of the idea. Men, again, who, like the professor's -man in the infancy of the savage state, are able to conceive of -spirit and to distinguish between the outward manifestation and -the indwelling spirit, are not fetich worshippers, and for them -the fetich is no longer a god, but if retained at all, it is as a -sign or symbol of the invisible, Fetichism is the grossest form -of superstition, and obtains only among tribes fallen into the -grossest ignorance, that lie at the lowest round of the scale of -human beings; not among tribes in whom intelligence is -commencing, but in whom it is well-nigh extinguished. - -Monotheism is older than polytheism, for polytheism, as the -author himself seems to hold, grows out of pantheism, and -pantheism evidently grows out of theism, out of the loss or -perversion of the idea of creation, or of the relation between -the creator and the creature, or cause and effect, and is and can -be found only among a people who have once believed in one God, -creator of heaven and earth and all things visible and invisible. -Moreover, the earliest forms of the heathen superstitions are, so -far as historical evidence goes, the least gross, the least -corrupt. The religion of the early Romans was pure in comparison -with what it subsequently became, especially after the Etruscan -domination or influence. The Homeric poems show a religion less -corrupt than that defended by Aristophanes. The earliest of the -Vedas, or sacred books of the Hindoos, are free from the grosser -superstitions of the latest, and were written, the author very -justly thinks, before those grosser forms were introduced. This -is very remarkable, if we are to assume that the grossest forms -of superstition are the earliest! But we have with Greeks, -Egyptians, Indians, no books that are of earlier date than the -books of Moses, at least none that can be proved to have been -written earlier; and in the books of Moses, in whatever light or -character we take them, there is shown a religion older than any -of the heathen mythologies, and absolutely free from every form -of superstition, what is called the patriarchal religion, and -which is substantially the Jewish and Christian religion. The -earliest notices we have of idolatries and superstitions are -taken from these books, the oldest extant, at least none older -are known. If these books are regarded as historical documents, -then what we Christians hold to be the true religion has obtained -with a portion of the race from the creation of man, and, for a -long series of years, from the creation to Nimrod, the mighty -hunter or conqueror, was the only religion known; and your -fetichisms, polytheisms, pantheisms, idolatries, and -superstitions, which you note among the heathen, instead of being -the religion of the infancy of the race, are, comparatively -speaking, only recent innovations. If their authenticity as -historical documents be denied, they still, since their antiquity -is undeniable, prove the patriarchal religion obtained at an -earlier date than it can be proved that any of the heathen -mythologies existed. It is certain, then, that the patriarchal, -we may say, the Christian religion, is the earliest known -religion of the race, and therefore that fetichism, as contended -by the positivists and the professor after them, cannot be -asserted to have been the religion of the human race in the -earliest stage of its existence, nor the germ from which all the -various religions or superstitions of the world have been -developed. - -{163} - -But we may go still farther. The attempt to explain the origin -and course of religion by the study of the various heathen -mythologies, and idolatries, and superstitions, is as absurd as -to attempt to determine the origin and course of the Christian -religion by the study of the thousand and one sects that have -broken off from the church, and set up to be churches themselves. -They can teach us nothing except the gradual deterioration of -religious thought, and the development and growth of superstition -or irreligion among those separated from the central religious -life of the race. In the ancient Indian, Egyptian, and Greek -mythologies, on which the author dwells with so much emphasis, we -trace no gradual purification of the religious idea, but its -continual corruption and debasement. As the sects all presuppose -the Christian church, and could neither exist nor be intelligible -without her, so those various heathen mythologies presuppose the -patriarchal religion, are unintelligible without it, and could -not have originated or exist without it. The professor having -studied these mythologies in the darkness of no-religion, -understands nothing of them, and finds no sense in them--as -little sense as a man ignorant of Catholicity would find in the -creeds, confessions, and religious observances of the several -Protestant sects; but if he had studied them in the light of the -patriarchal religion, which they mutilate, corrupt, or travesty, -he might have understood them, and have traced with a steady hand -their origin and course, and their relation to the intellectual -development of the race. - -We have no space to enter at length into the question here -suggested. In all the civilized heathen nations, the gods are -divided into two classes, the Dii Majores and the Dii Minores. -The Dii Majores are only the result of a false effort to explain -the mysterious dogma of the Trinity, and the perversion of the -Christian doctrine of the Eternal Generation of the Son, and the -Eternal Procession of the Holy Ghost. The type from which these -mythologies depart, not which they realize, is undeniably the -mystery of the Trinity asserted, more or less explicitly, by the -patriarchal religion; and hence, we find them all, from the -burning South to the frozen North, from the East to the West, -from the Old World to the New, asserting, in some form, in the -Divinity the sacred and mysterious Triad. The Dii Minores are a -corruption or perversion of the Catholic doctrine of saints and -angels, or that doctrine is the type which has been perverted or -corrupted, by substituting heroes for saints, and the angels that -fell for the angels that stood, and taking these for gods instead -of creatures. The enemies of Christianity have sufficiently -proved that the common type of both is given in the patriarchal -religion, hoping thereby to get a conclusive argument against -Christianity; but they have forgotten to state that, while the -one conforms to the type, the other departs from it, perverts or -corrupts it, and that the one that conforms is prior in date to -the one that corrupts, perverts or departs from it. No man can -study the patriarchal religion without seeing at a glance that it -is the various forms of heathenism that are the corrupt forms, as -no man can study both Catholicity and Protestantism without -seeing that Protestantism is the corruption, or -perversion--sometimes even the travesty of Catholicity. -{164} -The same conclusion is warranted alike by Indian and Egyptian -gloom and Greek gayety. The gloom speaks for itself. The gayety -is that of despair--the gayety that says: "Come, let us eat, -drink, and be merry, for to-morrow we die." Through all -heathendom you hear the wail, sometimes loud and stormy, -sometimes low and melodious, over some great and irreparable -loss, over a broken and unrealized ideal, just as you do in the -modern sectarian and unbelieving world. - -But why is it that the professor and others, when seeking to give -the origin and course of religion, as related to the intellectual -development of the race, pass by the patriarchal, Jewish, or -Christian religion, and fasten on the religions or superstitions -of the Gentiles? It is their art, which consists in adroitly -avoiding all direct attacks on the faith of Christendom, and -confining themselves in their dissertations on the natural -history of the pagan superstitions, to establishing principles -which alike undermine both them and Christianity. It is evident -to every intelligent reader of Professor Draper's _Intellectual -Development of Europe_, that he means the principles he -asserts shall be applied to Christianity as well as to Indian, -Egyptian, Greek, and Roman mythology, and he gives many broad -hints to that effect. What then? Is he not giving the history of -the intellectual development of Europe? Can one give the history -of that development without taking notice of religion? If, in -giving the natural history of religion, showing whence and how it -originates, what have been its developments, its course, its -modifications, changes, decay, and death, by the influence of -natural causes, science establishes principles which overthrow -all religions, and render preposterous all claims of man to have -received a supernatural revelation, to be in communion with the -Invisible, or to be under any other providence than that of the -fixed, invariable, and irresistible laws of nature, or purely -physiological laws, whose fault is it? Would you condemn science, -or subordinate it to the needs of a crafty and unscrupulous -priesthood, fearful of losing their influence, and having the -human mind emancipated from their despotism? That is, you lay -down certain false principles, repudiated by reason and common -sense, and which all real science rejects with contempt, call -these false principles science, and when we protest, you cry out -with all your lungs, aided by all the simpletons of the age, that -we are hostile to science, would prevent free scientific -investigation, restrain free manly thought, and would keep the -people from getting a glimpse of the truth that would emancipate -them, and place them on the same line with the baboon or the -gorilla! A wonderful thing, is this modern science; and always -places, whatever it asserts or denies, its adepts in the right, -as against the theologians and the anointed priests of God! - -The mystery is not difficult to explain. The physiologists, of -course, are good Sadducees, and really, unless going through a -churchyard after dark, or caught in a storm at sea, and in danger -of shipwreck, believe in neither angel nor spirit. They wish to -reduce all events, all phenomena, intellectual, moral, and -religious, to fixed, invariable, inflexible, irreversible, and -necessary laws of nature. They exclude in doctrine, if not in -words, the supernatural, creation, providence, and all -contingency. Every thing in man and in the universe is generated -or developed by physiological or natural laws, and follows them -in all their variations and changes. -{165} -Religion, then, must be a natural production, generated by man, -in conjunction with nature, and modified, changed, or destroyed, -according to the physical causes to which he is subjected in time -and place. This is partially true, or, at least, not manifestly -false in all respects of the various pagan superstitions, and -many facts may be cited that seem to prove it; but it is -manifestly not true of the patriarchal, Jewish, and Christian -religion, and the only way to make it appear true, is to not -distinguish that religion from the others, to include all -religions in one and the same category, and conclude that what -they prove to be partially true of a part, is and must be true of -the whole. That this is fair or logical, is not a matter that the -physiologists, who, where they detect an analogy, conclude -identity, trouble themselves at all about; besides, nothing in -their view is illogical or unfair that tends to discredit priests -and theologians. Very likely, also, such is their disdain or -contempt of religion, that they really do not know that there is -any radical difference between Christianity and Gentooism. We -have never encountered a physiologist, in the sense we use the -term here, that is, one who maintains that all in the history of -man and the universe proceeds from nature alone, who had much -knowledge of Christian theology, or knowledge enough to be aware -that in substance it is not identical with the pagan -superstitions. Their ignorance of our religion is sublime. - -We have thus far proceeded on the supposition that the professor -means by the infancy of the savage state the infancy of the race; -we are not sure, after all, that this is precisely his thought, -or that he means anything more than the infancy of a particular -nation or family of nations is the savage state. He, however, -sums up his doctrine in his table of contents, chapter i., of his -_Intellectual Development_, in the proposition: "Individual -man is an emblem of communities, nations, and universal humanity. -They exhibit epochs of life like his, and like him are under the -control of physical conditions, and therefore of law;" that is, -physical or physiological law, for "human physiology" is only a -special department of universal physiology, as we have already -indicated. It would seem from this that the author makes the -savage state, as we have supposed, correspond, in the race, in -universal humanity, as well as in communities, to the epoch of -infancy in the individual. But does he mean to teach that the -race itself has its epoch of infancy, youth, manhood, old age, -and death? He can, perhaps, in a loose sense, predicate these -several epochs of nations and of political or civil communities; -but how can he predicate them all of the race? "Individuals die, -humanity survives," says Seneca; and are we to understand that -the professor means to assert that the race is born like the -individual, passes through childhood, youth, manhood, to old age, -and then dies? Who knows what he means? - -But suppose that he has not settled in his own mind his meaning -on this point, as is most likely the case; that he has not asked -himself whether man on the earth has a beginning or an end, and -that he regards the race as a natural evolution, revolving always -in the same circle, and takes, therefore, the infancy he speaks -of as the infancy of a nation or a given community. Then his -doctrine is, that the earliest stage of every civilized nation or -community is the savage state, that the ancestors of the -civilized in every age are savages, and that all civilization has -been developed under the control of physical conditions from the -savage state. -{166} -The germ of all civilization then must be in the savage, and -civilization then must be evolved from the savage as the chicken -from the egg, or the egg from the sperm. But of this there is no -evidence; for, as we have seen, there is no nation known that has -sprung from exclusively savage ancestors, no known instance of a -savage people developing, if we may so speak, into a civilized -people. The theory rests on no historical or scientific basis, -and is perfectly gratuitous. In the savage state we detect -reminiscences of a past civilization, not the germs of a future -civilization, or if germs--germs that are dead, and that never do -or can germinate. There are degrees of civilization; people may -be more or less civilized; but we have no evidence, historical or -scientific, of a time when there was no civilized people extant. -There are civilized nations now, and contemporary with them are -various savage tribes, and the same may be said of every epoch -since history began. The civilized nations whose origin we know -have all sprung from races more or less civilized, never from -purely savage tribes. The physiologists overlook history, and -mistake the evening twilight for the dawn. - -But pass over this. Let us come to the doctrine for which the -professor writes his book, namely, individuals, communities, -nations, universal humanity, are under the control of physical -conditions, therefore of physical law, or law in the sense of the -physiologists or the physicists. If this means anything, it means -that the religion, the morality, the intellectual development, -the growth and decay, the littleness and the grandeur of men and -nations depend solely on physical causes, not at all on moral -causes--a doctrine not true throughout even in human physiology, -and supported by no facts, except in a very restricted degree, -when applied to nations and communities. In the corporeal -phenomena of the individual the soul counts for much, and in -morbid physiology the moral often counts for more than the -physical; perhaps it always does, for we know from revelation -that the morbidity of nature is the penalty or effect of man's -transgression. It is proved to be false as applied to nations and -communities by the fact that the Christian religion, which is -substantially that of the ancient patriarchs, is, at least as far -as science can go, older than any of the false religions, has -maintained itself the same in all essential respects, unvaried -and invariable, in every variety of physical change, and in every -diversity of physical condition, and absolutely unaffected by any -natural causes whatever. - -The chief physical conditions on which the professor relies are -climate and geographical position. Yet what we hold to be the -true religion, the primitive religion of mankind, has prevailed -in all climates, and been found the same in all geographical -positions. Nay, even the false pagan religions have varied only -in their accidents with climatic and geographical positions. We -find them in substance the same in India, Central Asia, on the -banks of the Danube, in the heart of Europe, in the ancient -Scania, the Northern Isles, in Mexico and Peru. The substance of -Greek and Roman or Etrurian mythology is the same with that of -India and Egypt. M. Rénan tells us that the monotheism so firmly -held by the Arabic branch of the Semitic family, is due to the -vast deserts over which the Arab tribes wander, which suggest the -ideas of unity and universality; and yet for centuries before -Mohammed, these same Arabs, wandering over the same deserts, were -polytheists and idolaters; and not from contemplating those -deserts, but by recalling the primitive traditions of mankind, -preserved by Jews and Christians, did the founder of Islamism -attain to the monotheism of the Koran. The professor is misled by -taking, in the heathen mythology he has studied, the poetic -imagery and embellishments, which indeed vary according to the -natural aspects, objects, and productions of the locality, for -their substance, thought, or doctrine. -{167} -The poetic illustrations, imagery, and embellishments of Judaism -are all oriental; but the Jew in all climates and in all -geographical positions holds one and the same religious faith -even to this day; and his only real difference from us is, that -he is still looking for a Christ to come, while we believe the -Christ he is looking for has come, and is the same Jesus of -Nazareth who was crucified at Jerusalem, under Pontius Pilate. - -We know the author contends that there has been from the -beginning a radical difference between the Christianity of the -East and that of the West; but we know that such is not and never -has been the fact. The great Eastern fathers and theologians are -held in as high honor in Western Christendom as they ever were in -Eastern Christendom. Nearly all the great councils that defined -the dogmas held by the Catholic Church throughout the whole world -were held in the East. The Greeks were more speculative and more -addicted to philosophical subtleties and refinements than the -Latins, and therefore more liable to originate heresies; but -nowhere was heresy more vigorously combated, or the one faith of -the universal church more ably, more intelligently, or more -fervently defended than in the East, before the Emperors and the -Bishop of Constantinople drew the Eastern Church, or the larger -part of it, into schism. But the united Greek Church, the real -Eastern Church, the church of St. Athanasius, of the Basils, and -the Gregories, is one in spirit, one in faith, one in communion -with the Church of the West. - -The author gravely tells us that Christianity had three primitive -forms, the Judaical, which has ended; the Gnostic, which has also -ended; the African, which still continues. But he has no -authority for what he says. Some Jewish observances were retained -for a time by Christians of Jewish origin, till the synagogue -could be buried with honor; but there never was a Jewish form of -Christianity, except among heretics, different from the -Christianity still held by the church. There are some phrases in -the Gospel of St. John, and in the Epistles of St. Paul that have -been thought to be directed against the gnostics; and Clemens of -Alexandria writes a work in which he uses the terms -_gnosis_, knowledge, and _gnostic_, a man possessing -knowledge or spiritual science, in a good sense; but, we suspect, -with a design of rescuing these from the bad sense in which they -were beginning to be used, as some of our European friends are -trying to do with the terms _liberal_ and _liberalist_. -Nevertheless, what Clemens defends under these terms is held by -Catholics to-day in the same sense in which he defends it. There -never was an African form of Christianity distinct from the -Christianity either of Europe or Asia. The two great theologians -of Africa are St. Cyprian and St. Augustine, both probably of -Roman, or, at least, of Italian extraction. -{168} -The doctrine which St. Cyprian is said to have maintained on -baptism administered by heretics, the only matter on which he -differed from Rome, has never been, and is not now, the doctrine -of the church. St. Augustine was converted in Milan, and had St. -Ambrose, a Roman, for his master, and differed from the -theologians either of the East or the West only in the unmatched -ability and science with which he defended the faith common to -all. He may have had some peculiar notions on some points, but if -so, these have never been received as Catholic doctrine. - -The professor might as well assert the distinction, asserted in -Germany a few years since, which attracted some attention at the -time, but now forgotten, between the Petrine gospel, the Pauline -gospel, and the Joannine gospel, as the distinction of the three -primitive forms of Christianity which he asserts. We were told by -some learned German, we forget his name, that Peter, Paul, and -John represent three different phases or successive forms of -Christianity. The Petrine gospel represents religion, based on -authority; the Pauline, religion as based on intelligence; and -the Joannine, religion as based on love. The first was the -so-called Catholic or Roman Church. The reformation made an end -of that, and ushered in the Pauline form, or Protestantism, the -religion of the intellect. Philosophy, science. Biblical -criticism, and exegesis, the growth of liberal ideas, and the -development of the sentiments and affections of the heart, have -made an end of Protestantism, and are ushering in the Joannine -gospel, the religion of love, which is never to be superseded or -to pass away. The advocate of this theory had got beyond -authority and intelligence, whether he had attained to the -religion of love or not; yet the theory was only the revival of -the well-known heresy of the Eternal Evangel of the thirteenth -century. So hard is it to invent a new heresy. It were a waste of -words to attempt to show that this theory has not the slightest -foundation in fact. Paul and John assert authority as strenuously -as Peter; Peter and John give as free scope to the intellect as -Paul; and Peter and Paul agree with John in regard to love or -charity. There is nothing in the Gospel or Epistles of John to -surpass the burning love revealed, we might almost say concealed, -so unostentatious is it, by the inflamed Epistles of Paul. As for -Protestantism, silence best becomes it, when there is speech of -intelligence, so remarkable is it for its illogical and -unintellectual character. Protestants have their share of native -intellect, and the ordinary degree of intelligence on many -subjects; but in the science of theology, the basis of all the -sciences, and without which there is, and can be, no real -science, they have never yet excelled. - -Nor did the reformation put an end to the so-called Petrine -gospel, the religion of authority, the church founded on Peter, -prince of the apostles. It may be that Protestantism is losing -what little intellectual character it once had, and developing in -a vague philanthropy, a watery sentimentality, or a blind -fanaticism, sometimes called Methodism, sometimes Evangelicalism; -but Peter still teaches and governs in his successor. The -Catholic Church has survived the attacks of the reformation and -the later revolution, as she survived the attacks of the -persecuting Jews and pagans, and the power and craft of civil -tyrants who sought to destroy or to enslave her, and is to-day -the only religion that advances by personal conviction and -conversion. -{169} -Mohammedanism can no longer propagate itself even by the sword; -the various pagan superstitions have reached their limits, and -are recoiling on themselves; and Protestantism has gained no -accession of territory or numbers since the death of Luther, -except by colonization and the natural increase of the population -then Protestant. The Catholic Church is not only a living -religion, but the only living religion, the only religion that -does, or can, command the homage of science, reason, free -thought, and the uncorrupted affections of the heart. The -Catholic religion is at once light, freedom, and love--the -religion of authority, of the intellect, and of the heart, -embracing in its indissoluble unity Peter, Paul, and John. - -The professor's work on the intellectual development of Europe -proves that religion in some form has constituted a chief element -in that development. It always has been, and still is, the chief -element in the life of communities and nations, the spring and -centre of intellectual activity and progress. Even the works -before us revolve around it, or owe their existence to their -relation to it, and would have no intelligible purpose without -it. The author has written them to divest religion of its -supernatural character, to reduce it to a physiological law, and -to prove that it originates in the ignorance of men and nations, -and depends solely on physical conditions, chiefly on climate and -geographical position. But in this patriarchal, Jewish, Christian -religion there is something, and that of no slight influence on -the life of individuals and nations, on universal humanity, that -flatly contradicts him, that is essentially one and the same from -first to last, superior to climate and geographical position, -unaffected by natural causes, independent of physical conditions, -and in no sense subject to physiological laws. This suffices to -refute his theory, and that of the positivists, of whom he is a -distinguished disciple; for it proves the uniform presence and -activity in the life and development of men and nations, ever -since history began, of a power, a being, or cause above nature -and independent of nature, and therefore supernatural. - -The theory that the rise, growth, decay, and death of nations -depend on physical conditions alone, chiefly on climate and -geographical position, seems to us attended with some grave -difficulties. Have the climate and geographical positions of -India, Persia, Assyria, Egypt, Greece, and Rome, essentially -changed from what they were at the epoch of their greatness? Did -not all the great and renowned nations of antiquity rise, grow, -prosper, decline, and die, in substantially the same physical -conditions, under the same climate, and in the same geographical -position? Like causes produce like effects. How could the same -physical causes cause alike the rise and growth, and the decay -and death of one and the same people, in one and the same -climate, and in one and the same geographical position? Do you -say, climate and even physical geography change with the lapse of -time? Be it so. Be it as the author maintains, that formerly -there was no variation of climate on this continent, from the -equator to either pole; but was there for Rome any appreciable -change in the climate and geography from the time of the third -Punic war to that of Honorius, or even of Augustulus, the last of -the Emperors? Or what change in the physical conditions of the -nation was there when it was falling from what there was when it -was rising? - -{170} - -Nations, like individuals, have, according to the professor, -their infancy, youth, manhood, old age, and death. But why do -nations grow old and die? The individual grows old and dies, -because his interior physical machinery wears out, and because he -must die in order to attain the end for which he lives. But why -should this be the case with nations? They have no future life to -which death is the passage. The nation does not rise or fall with -the individuals that found it. One generation of individuals -passes away, and another comes, but the nation survives; and why, -if not destroyed by external violence, should it not continue to -survive and thrive to the end of time? There are no physical -causes, no known physiological laws, that prevent it. Why was not -Rome as able to withstand the barbarians, or to drive them back -from her frontiers, in the fourth century, as she was in the -first? Why was England so much weaker under the Stuarts than she -had been under the Tudors, or was again under the Protector? Or -why have we seen her so grand under Pitt and Wellington, and so -little and feeble under Palmerston and Lord Russell? Can you -explain this by a change of climate and geographical position, or -any change in the physical conditions of the nation, that is, any -physical changes not due to moral causes? - -We see in several of the States of the Union a decrease, a -relative, if not a positive decrease, of the native population, -and the physical man actually degenerating, and to an extent that -should alarm the statesman and the patriot. Do you explain this -fact by the change in the climate and the geographical position? -The geographical position remains unchanged, and if the climate -has changed at all, it has been by way of amelioration. Do you -attribute it to a change in the physical condition of the -country? Not at all. There is no mystery as to the matter, and -though the effects may be physical or physiological, the causes -are well known to be moral, and chief among them is the immoral -influence of the doctrine the professor and his brother -physiologists are doing their best to diffuse among the people. -The cause is in the loss of religious faith, in the lack of moral -and religious instruction, in the spread of naturalism, and the -rejection of supernatural grace--without which the natural cannot -be sustained in its integrity--in the growth of luxury, and the -assertion of material goods or sensible pleasures, as the end and -aim of life. There is always something morally wrong where prizes -need to be offered to induce the young to marry, and to induce -the married to suffer their children to be born and reared. - -So, also, do we know the secret of the rise, prosperity, decline, -and death of the renowned nations of antiquity. The Romans owed -the empire of the world to their temperance, prudence, fortitude, -and respect for religious principle, all of them moral causes; -and they owed their decline and fall to the loss of these -virtues, to their moral corruption. The same may be said of all -the ancient nations. Their religion, pure, or comparatively pure, -in the origin, becomes gradually corrupt, degenerates into a -corrupt and corrupting superstition, which hangs as a frightful -nightmare on the breasts of the people, destroying their moral -life and vigor. -{171} -To this follows, with a class, scepticism, the denial of God or -the gods, an Epicurean morality, and the worship of the senses; -the loss of all public spirit--public as well as private virtue, -and the nation falls of its own internal moral imbecility and -rottenness, as our own nation, not yet a century old, is in a -fair way of doing, and most assuredly will do, if the atheistic -philosophy and morality of the physiologists or positivists -become much more widely diffused than they are. The church will -be as unable, with all her supernatural truth, grace, life, and -strength, to save it, as she was to save the ancient Graeco-Roman -Empire, for to save it would require a resurrection of the dead. - -The common sense of mankind, in all ages of the world, has -uniformly attributed the downfall of nations, states, and -empires, to moral causes, not to physiological laws, climatic -influences, or geographical position. The wicked shall be turned -into hell, and all the nations that forget God. Righteousness -exalteth a nation, and sin is a reproach to any people. This is -alike the voice of inspiration and of universal experience. The -traveller who visits the sites of nations renowned in story, now -buried in ruins, of cities once thronged with a teeming -population, the marts of the world, in which were heard, from -morning till night--till far into night--the din of industry, and -marks the solitude that now reigns there; the barren waste that -has succeeded to once fruitful fields and vineyards, and observes -the poor shepherd that feeds a petty flock on the scanty -pasturage, or the armed robber that watches for a victim to -plunder, receives a far less vivid impression of the dependence -of nations on physical causes and conditions, than of the -influence of the moral world on the natural, and reads in legible -characters the meaning of that fearful penalty which God -pronounced, when he said to the man: "And the earth for thy sake -shall be cursed." The physical changes that have come over -Assyria, Syria, Lybia, Egypt, and Palestine, are the effects of -the moral deterioration of man, not the cause of that -deterioration. - -The professor, after dilating almost eloquently, and as a sage, -on the changeability, the transitoriness, the evanescent nature -of all the visible forms of things, says: "If from visible forms -we turn to directing law, how vast the difference! We pass from -the finite, the momentary, the incidental, the conditional, to -the illimitable, the eternal, the necessary, the unshackled. It -is of law I am to speak in this book. In a world composed of -vanishing forms, I am to vindicate the imperishability, the -majesty of law, and to show how man proceeds in his social march -in obedience to it," (_Ibid_. p, 16.) This sounds well; but, -unhappily, he has told us that communities and nations, like -individuals, are under the control of physical conditions, and -_therefore_ of law. If _therefore_ of law, then under -the law of physical conditions, and consequently of a physical or -physiological law. He dwells on the grandeur of this conception, -and challenges for it our deepest admiration. But we see not much -to admire in a purely physical law manifesting itself in -ceaseless instability, metamorphosis, and death. Will the author -forgive us, if we hint that he possibly does not very well -understand himself, or know precisely what it is that he says? -Hear him. "I am to lead my reader, perhaps in a reluctant path, -from the outward phantasmagorial illusions which surround us and -so ostentatiously obtrude themselves on our attention, to -something that lies in silence and strength behind. -{172} -I am to draw his thoughts from the tangible to the invisible, -from the limited to the universal, from the changeable to the -invariable, from the transitory to the eternal; from the -expedients and volitions so largely _amusing_ in the life of -man, to the predestined and resistless issuing of law from the -fiat of God." (_Ibid_. p. 16, 17.) Very respectable -rhetoric, but what does it mean? If it means anything, it means -that the visible universe is unreal, an illusion, a -phantasmagoria; that nothing is real, stable, permanent, but law, -which lies in silence and strength behind the phantasmagoria, and -that this law producing the illusion, dazzling us with mere -sense-shows, is identically God, from whose fiat the -phantasmagorial world issues. Is not this grand? is it not -sublime? The scientific professor forgets that he may find -readers, who can perceive through his rhetoric that he makes law -or God the reality of things, instead of their creator or maker, -simply their _causa essentialis_, the _causa immanens_ -of Spinoza, and therefore asserts nothing but a very vulgar form -of pantheism, material pantheism, indistinguishable from naked -atheism; for his doctrine recognizes only the material, the -sensible, and by law he can mean only a physiological law like -that by which the liver secretes bile, the blood circulates -through the heart, seeds germinate, or plants bear fruit--a law -which has and can have no indivisible unity. - -If the professor means simply that in the universe all proceeds -according to the law of cause and effect, he should bear in mind -that there are moral causes and effects as well as physical, and -supernatural as well as natural; but then he might find himself -in accord with theologians, some of whom, perhaps, in his own -favorite sciences are able to be his masters. It is not always -safe to measure the ignorance of others by our own. No theologian -denies, but every one asserts the law of cause and effect, -precisely what no atheist, pantheist, or naturalist does do, for -none of them ever rise above what the schools call _causa -essentialis_, the thing itself, that which, as we say, -_makes_ the thing, makes it itself and not another, or -constitutes its identity. Every theologian believes that God is -logical, logic in itself, and that all his works are dialectical -and realize a divine plan, which as a whole and in all its parts -is strictly and rigidly logical. If the professor means simply to -assert not only that all creatures and all events are under the -control of the law of cause and effect, but also under the law of -dialectics, there need be no quarrel between him and us; but in -such case, if he had known a little theology, he might have -spared himself and us a great deal of trouble, for we believe as -firmly in the universal reign of law as he or his Grace of -Argyle. But he would have gained little credit for original -genius, depth of thought, profound science, or rare learning, and -most likely would not have lived to see any one of his volumes -reach a fifth edition. - -But we must not be understood to deny in the development of -nations or individuals all dependence on physical conditions, or -even of climate and geographical position. Man is neither pure -spirit, nor pure matter; he is the union of soul and body, and -can no more live without communion with nature, than he can -without communion with his like and with God. Hence he requires -the three great institutions of religion, society, and property, -which, in some form, are found in all tribes, nations, or civil -communities, and without which no people ever does or can -subsist. -{173} -Climate and geographical influences, no doubt, count for -something, for how much, science has not yet determined. There is -a difference in character between the inhabitants of mountains -and the inhabitants of plains, the dwellers on the sea-coast and -the dwellers inland, and the people of the north and the people -of the south; yet the Bas Bretons and the Irish have not lost -perceptibly anything, in three thousand years, of their original -character as a southern people, though dwelling for that space of -time, we know not how many centuries longer, far to the north. -Among the Irish you may find types of northern races, some of -whom have overrun the Island as conquerors; but amid all their -political and social vicissitudes, the Irish have retained, and -still retain, their southern character. The English have received -many accessions from Ireland and from the south, but they remain, -the great body of them, as they originally were, essentially a -northern people, and hence the marked difference between the -Irish character and the English, though inhabiting very nearly -the same parallels of latitude, and subject to much the same -climatic and geographical influences. The character of both the -English and the Irish is modified on this continent, but more by -amalgamation, and by political and social influences, than by -climate or geography. The Irish type is the most tenacious, and -is not unlikely in time to eliminate the Anglo-Saxon. It has a -great power of absorption, and the American people may ultimately -lose their northern type, and assume the characteristics of a -southern race, in spite of the constant influx of the Teutonic -element. What we object to is not giving something to physical -causes and conditions, but making them exclusive, and thus -rejecting moral causes, and reducing man and nature to an -inexorable fatalism. - -In the several volumes of the professor, except the first named, -we are able to detect neither the philosophical historian nor the -man of real science. The respectable author has neither logic nor -exact, or even extensive, learning, and the only thing to be -admired in him, except his style, is the sublime confidence in -himself with which he undertakes to discuss and settle questions, -of which, for the most part, he knows nothing, and perhaps the -sublimer confidence with which he follows masters that know as -little as himself. - -We own we have treated Professor Draper's work with very little -respect, for we have felt very little. His _Intellectual -Development of Europe_ is full of crudities from beginning to -end, and for the most part below criticism, or would be were it -not that it is levelled at all the principles of individual and -social life and progress. The book belongs to the age of -Leucippus and Democritus, and _ignores_, if we may use an -expressive term, though hardly English, Christian civilization -and all the progress men and nations have effected since the -opening of the Christian era. It is a monument not of science, -but of gross ignorance. - -Yet in our remarks we have criticised the class to which the -author belongs, rather than the author himself. Men of real -science are modest, reverential, and we honor them, whatever the -department of nature to which they devote their studies. We -delight to sit at their feet and drink in instruction from their -lips; but when men, because they are passable chemists, know -something of human physiology, or the natural history of fishes, -undertake to propagate theories on God, man, and nature, that -violate the most sacred traditions of the race, deny the Gospel, -reduce the universe to matter, and place man on a level with the -brute, theories, too, which are utterly baseless, we cannot -reverence them, or listen to them with patience, however graceful -their elocution or charming their rhetoric. - ----------- - -{174} - - Morning At Spring Park. - - Along the upland swell and wooded lawn - The aged farmer's voice is heard at dawn: - That well-known call across the dewy vale - Calls Spark and Daisy to the milking-pail. - - The robin chirps; from farm to farm I hear - The bugle-note of wakeful chanticleer; - And far, far off, through grove and bosky dell, - The dreamy tinkle of sleek Snowflake's bell. - - The huddling sheep, just loose from kindly fold, - Their nibbling way along the hill-side hold; - And timid squirrels and shy quails are seen - Flitting, unscared, across the shaded green. - - The low horizon's dusky, violet blue - Is tinged with coming daylight's rosy hue, - Till o'er the golden fields of tasselled corn - Breaks all the rapture of the summer morn. - - Through forest rifts the level sunbeams dart, - And gloomy nooks to sudden beauty start; - Those long, still lines which through rank foliage steal, - Undreamed-of charms among the woods reveal. - - The yellow wheat-stooks catch the early light; - Far-nested homesteads gleam at once to sight; - While, from yon glimmering height, one spire serene - Points duly heavenward this terrestrial scene. - - Long may the aged farmer's call be heard. - At dewy dawn, with song of matin bird. - Among his loving flocks and herds of kine, - A guileless master, watchful and benign. - - And, when no more his agile footstep roves - These flowery pastures and these pleasant groves, - Good Shepherd, may thy call to fields more fair - Wean every thought from earth, make heaven his care! - ----------- - -{175} - - Nellie Netterville; Or, One Of The Transplanted. - - - CHAPTER III. - - "Set is the sun of the Netterville's glory! - Down in the dust its bright banners are trailing! - Hoarse in our anguish we whisper the story, - And men, as they listen, like women are wailing. - - "Woe! woe to us--woe! we shall see him no more; - Our tears like the rains of November are flowing; - Woe! woe to us--woe! for the chief we deplore - Alone to his exile of sorrow is going. - - "Alone?--not alone! for our dastardly foemen-- - As cruel as base in the day of their power-- - Have lifted their hands against maidens and women; - Uprooted the tree, and then trampled the flower. - - "And so they have sent her to weep by strange waters-- - The joy of our hearts and the light of our eyes-- - The latest and fairest of Netterville's daughters, - In whom the last link of their destiny lies. - - "Sad will be, mother, thy waking to-morrow! - Waking to weep o'er thy dove-rifled nest; - Widowed and childless--two-fold is thy sorrow. - And two-edged the sword that is lodged in thy breast. - - "Well may we mourn her--when we too deplore her-- - The vassals and serfs of thy conquering race; - If blood could but do it, our blood should restore her-- - Restore her to thee and thy loving embrace. - - "Yet not for her only, or thee, are we weeping; - We weep for our country, fast bound in that chain - Which in blood from her wrung heart the foeman is steeping, - Till it looks as if reddened and rusted by rain. - - "Oh! when shall a leader to true hearts be given. - To fall on the stranger and force him to flee? - And when shall the shackles that bind her be riven? - And Erin stand up in her strength, and be free!" - -So sung Hamish, the son of the last of the long line of minstrels -who, with harp and voice, had recorded the triumphs of the house -of Netterville, or mourned over the death or sorrow of its -chieftains. For, in spite of the law by which it was strictly -forbidden, the English of the Pale had persisted in the national -custom of keeping a bard or minstrel--whose office was always, or -almost always, hereditary--attached to their households; and in -its palmy days of power the family of Netterville was far too -jealous of its own importance not to have been always provided -with a similar appendage. Its last recognized minstrel had -fallen, however, in the same battle which had deprived Nellie of -her father, and, Hamish being then too young to take up his -father's office, the harp had ever since, literally as well as -figuratively, hung mute and unstrung in the halls of Netterville. -But grief and indignation over its utter ruin had unlocked at -last the tide of poetry and song, ever ready to flow over in the -Celtic breast, and Hamish felt himself changed into a bard upon -the spot. Forgetting the presence of the English soldiers, or, -more probably, exulting in the knowledge that they did not -understand the language in which he gave expression to his -feelings, he stepped out into the midst of the people, pouring -forth his lamentations, stanza after stanza, with all the -readiness and fire of a born _improvisatore_; and when at -last he paused, more for want of breath than want of matter, the -keeners took up the tale, and told, in their wild, wailing chant, -of the goodness and greatness, the glory and honour of their -departed chieftain and his heiress, precisely as they would have -done had the twain over whom they were lamenting been that very -day deposited in their graves. Up to this moment Mrs. Netterville -had preserved in a marvellous degree that statue-like calmness of -outward bearing which hid, and even at times belied, the workings -of a heart full of generous emotions; but the wild wailing of the -keeners broke down the artificial restraint she had put upon her -conduct, and, unable to listen quietly to what seemed to her ears -a positive prophecy of death to her beloved ones, she hastily -reëntered the house and retreated to her own apartment. -{176} -This was a small, dark chamber, which in happier times had been -set apart as a quiet retreat for prayer and household purposes, -but which now was the only one the mistress of the mansion could -call her own--the soldiers having that very morning taken -possession of all the others, devoting some of them to their own -particular accommodation and locking up the others. It was, in -fact, as a very singular and especial favour, and as some return -for the kindness she had shown in nursing one of their number who -had been taken suddenly ill on the night of their arrival, that -the use even of this small chamber had been allowed her; for it -was not the custom of Cromwell's army to deal too gently by the -vanquished, and many of the "transplanted," as high-born and -well-educated as she was, had been compelled, in similar -circumstances, to retire to the outer offices of their own abode, -while the rough soldiery who displaced them installed themselves -in the luxurious apartments of the interior. - -Hidden from all curious eyes in this dark retreat, Mrs. -Netterville yielded at last to the cry of her weak human heart, -and, flinging herself face downward on the floor, gave way to a -passion of grief which was all the more terrible that it was -absolutely tearless. One or two of the few remaining women of the -household, knowing how fearfully her soul, in spite of all -outward show of calmness, must be wrung, tapped occasionally at -the door; but either she did not hear or did not choose to -answer, and they dared not enter without permission. - -At last one of them went to Hamish, feeling instinctively that, -if any one could venture to intrude unbidden, it would be the -foster-brother of Nellie, and said: - -"The mistress, God help her! is just drowned with the sorrow, and -won't even answer when we call. Hamish, a-bouchal, couldn't you -manage to go in, just by accident like, and say something or -other to give a turn to her thoughts?" - -"Give a turn to her thoughts?" said Hamish crustily; "give a turn -to her thoughts, do you say? My certie, but you take it easy! -Hasn't the woman lost husband and child, to say nothing of the -old lord, who was all as one to her as her own father? and isn't -she going, moreover, to be turned out of house and home, and sent -adrift upon the wide world? and you talk of giving a turn to her -thoughts, as if it was the toothache she was troubled with or a -wasp that had stung her?" - -"As you please, Mr. Hoity-toity," said the girl angrily; "I only -thought that, as you were a bit of a pet like, on account of our -young mistress, you might have ventured on the liberty. Not -having set up in that line myself, I cannot, of course, attempt -to meddle in the matter." - -But though Hamish had spoken roughly, his heart was very sore, -for all that, over the sorrows of his lonely mistress. - -He waited until Cathleen had vanished in a huff, and then, going -quietly to the study-door, knocked softly for admission. - -But Mrs. Netterville gave no sign, and, after knocking two or -three times in vain, he opened the door gently and looked in. The -room was naturally a gloomy one, being panelled in black oak; but -Hamish felt as if it never _could_ have looked before so -gloomy as it did that moment. -{177} -Half study, half oratory as it was, Mrs. Netterville had spent -here many a long hour of lonely and impassioned prayer, what time -her husband and her father-in-law were fighting the battles of -their royal and most ungrateful master. A tall crucifix, carved, -like the rest of the furniture, in black oak, stood, therefore, -on a sort of _prie-dieu_ at the farther end of the room, and -near it was a table arranged in desk-fashion, at which she had -been in the habit of transacting the business of her household. - -Room and _prie-dieu_, crucifix and table, Hamish had them -all by heart already. - -Here in his baby days he had been used to come, when he and his -little foster-sister were wearied with their own play, to sit at -the feet of Mrs. Netterville and listen to the tales which she -invented for their amusement. Here, as time went on, separating -Nellie outwardly from his society, yet leaving her as near to him -in heart as ever, he had been wont to bring his morning offerings -of fish from the running stream, or bunches of purple heather -from the rocks. Here he had come for news of the war, and of the -master, on that very day which brought tidings of his death; and -here, too, even while he tried to comfort Nellie, who had flung -herself down in her childish misery just on the spot where her -mother lay prostrate now, he had wondered, and, young as he was, -had in part, at least, comprehended the marvellous -self-forgetfulness of Mrs. Netterville, who, in the midst of her -own bereavement, had yet found heart and voice to comfort her -aged father-in-law and her child, as if the blow which had struck -them down had not fallen with three-fold force on her own head. -In the darkness of the room and the confusion of his own -thoughts, he did not, however, at first perceive Mrs. Netterville -in her lowly posture, and glanced instinctively toward the -_prie-dieu_, where he had so often before seen her take -refuge in the hour of trial. - -But she was not there, and a thrill of terror ran through his -frame when he at last discovered her, face downward, on the -floor, her widow's coif flung far away, and her long locks, -streaked--by the hand of grief, not time--abundantly with gray, -streaming round her in a disorder which struck Hamish all the -more forcibly, that it was in such direct contrast to the natural -habits of order and propriety she had brought with her from her -English home. There she lay, not weeping--such misery as hers -knows nothing of the relief of tears--not weeping, but crushed -and powerless, as if her very body had proved unequal to the -weight of sorrow put upon it, and had fallen beneath the burthen. -She seemed, indeed, not in a swoon, but stunned and stupefied, -and quite unconscious that she was not alone. Hamish trembled for -her intellect; but young as he was, he was used to sorrow, and -understood both the danger and the remedy. - -His lady must be roused at any cost, even at that the very -thought of which made him tremble, the recalling her to a full -knowledge of her misery. He advanced farther into the room, -moving softly, in his great reverence for her desolation, as we -move, almost unconsciously to ourselves, in the presence of the -dead, and occupied himself for a few minutes in arranging the -loose papers on her desk, and the flowers which Nellie had placed -upon the _prie dieu_ only a day or two before. They were -faded now--faded as the poor child's fortunes--but instead of -throwing them away, he poured fresh water into the vase which -held them, as if that could have restored their beauty. -{178} -Yet he sighed heavily as he did so for the thought would flash -across his mind that, whether he sought to give, back life to a -withered flower, or joy to the heart of a bereaved mother, in -either case his task was hopeless. Mrs. Netterville took no -notice of his proceedings, though, as he began to get used to the -situation, he purposely made rather more bustle than was needed, -in hopes of arousing her. At last, in despair of succeeding by -milder methods, he let fall a heavy inkstand, smashing it into a -thousand pieces, and scattering the ink in all directions, an -event that in happier times would certainly not have passed -unreproved. But now she lay within a few inches of the inky -stream, as heedless as though she were dead in earnest; and, -hopeless of recalling her to consciousness by anything short of a -personal appeal, he knelt down beside her and tapped her sharply -on the shoulder, half wondering at his own temerity as he did so. -She shuddered as if, light as the touch had been, it yet had hurt -her, and muttered impatiently, and like one half asleep: - -"Not now, Hamish! not now!--leave me for the present, I entreat -you!" - -"And why not now?" Hamish answered almost roughly. "Do you think -_you_ only have a cause for grieving? Tell me, my mistress, -if we, humble as we are, and not to be thought of in comparison -with your ladyship's honor, if we have not lost--are losing -nothing? Ah! if you could but hear the weeping and wailing that -is going on among the creatures down-stairs, you would never do -us such a wrong as to suppose that _your_ heart is the only -one sore and bleeding to-day!" - -"Sore and bleeding! Yes! yes! I doubt it not," moaned the lady -sadly. "Sore and bleeding; but not widowed--not childless; they -have still husbands and children--they have not lost as I have -lost!" - -"They have lost--not, may be, quite so much, but yet enough, and -more than enough, to set them wailing," answered Hamish firmly-- -"they have lost a master, who was more like a father than a -master, and a young mistress, who was all as one as a daughter to -every one of them; and moreover," he added mournfully--"and -moreover, instead of the kind hand and generous heart that has -reigned over them till now, they are going to be handed over, (as -if they were so many stocks or stones encumbering the land,) -whether they like it or whether they don't, to the tender mercies -of those very men who thought it neither sin nor shame to make -the child a shield against the soldier's sword, when they fought -knee-deep in blood at the siege of Tredagh!" - -"Why do you say these things, Hamish?" she almost shrieked in her -anguish. "Is it my fault? Could I help it? or why do you reproach -me with it?" - -"_Your_ fault! No, indeed, it is not. More's the pity; for -if you could have helped it, to a dead certainty it never would -have happened," said Hamish, glad that he had roused her, even if -only to a fit of anger. "But though you cannot prevent these -things, my mistress, you can at all events comfort the creatures -that have to bear them, by showing that you have feelings for -their sorrows as well as for your own." - -"I give comfort! God help me, I give comfort!" she answered, with -a sort of passionate irony in her manner; adding, however, -immediately afterward, in a softer tone, "How can I give comfort, -Hamish--I who need it so entirely myself?" - -{179} - -"That is the very thing," cried Hamish eagerly. "God love you, -madam! Do you not see that the only real comfort you could give -them would be the allowing them to try at least and comfort you?" - -"Bid them pray, then, for the safe journey of my loved ones," she -answered hoarsely--"that is the only real comfort they can give -me." - -"And why, then, couldn't we pray all together?" cried Hamish, -struck suddenly by a bright idea. "Why wouldn't you let them come -up here, madam? I warrant you they would pray as the best of them -never prayed before, if they only seen your ladyship's honor -kneeling and praying in the midst of them." - -"I--I cannot pray--I cannot even think," she answered, laying her -head once more on her folded arms, like a weary or a chidden -child. "Go you, good Hamish, and pray yourself with them -down-stairs." - -"In the kitchen, is it?" said Hamish, with a considerable portion -of irony in his voice. "Faix, my lady, and it's queer thoughts -we'd have, and queer prayers we would be saying there, with the -pot forenent us, boiling on the fire, and Cromwell's black rogues -of troopers coming and going, and flinging curses and scraps of -Scriptures (according to their usual custom) in equal measure at -our heads. No! no! my lady," he continued vehemently, "if you -would have us pray at all, it must be here--here where the cross -will mind us of a Mother who once stood at its foot, and who was -even more desolate than you are; a Mother silent and -heart-broken--not because her Child had gone before her into -exile, from whence He might any day return, but because she saw -Him dying--dying in the midst of tortures--and forsaken so -entirely that it might well have seemed to her (only she knew -_that_ never could be) as if God as well as man had utterly -abandoned Him." - -"You are right, Hamish; you are right," cried Mrs. Netterville -suddenly, touched to the quick by his voice and eloquence. "Go -you down at once, good Hamish, and bid them come here directly. I -shall be ready by the time they are assembled." - -As Mrs. Netterville spoke thus, she rose from the floor, and -then, all at once perceiving the strange disorder of her attire, -she began hastily to gather up her tresses, previous to placing -her widow's coif upon them. - -Hamish waited to hear no more, but instantly left the room to do -her bidding. As he walked rapidly toward the lower part of the -mansion, he drew a long sigh of relief, like one who has just got -rid of a heavy burden, as in truth he had; for he felt that he -had gained his point, and that whatever his mistress might have -yet to suffer, she was safe, at all events, from the effects of -that first great shock of sorrow which had threatened to overturn -her intellect. - -When he returned to announce that the household was assembled and -waiting for her further orders he found her kneeling at the -_prie-dieu_, in all the grave composure of her usual manner. -She did not trust herself, however, to look round, but merely -signed to him that they should come in; and the instant the noise -and bustle of their first entrance had subsided, she commenced -reading from her open missal. - -But the very sound of her own voice in supplicatory accents -seemed to break the spell which had hitherto been laid upon her -faculties. She fairly broke down and burst into a flood of tears. -This was more than enough for the excitable hearts around her, -and the room was filled in a moment with the wailing of her -people. -{180} -Hamish was in despair; and yet, perhaps, no other mode of -proceeding could have done so much toward calming her as did this -sudden outburst; for Mrs. Netterville had a true Englishwoman's -aversion to "scenes," however real and natural to the -circumstances of the case they might be. She instantly checked -her tears, and waiting quietly until the storm of grief had in -some degree died out, she collected all her energies, and read in -a low, steady voice the prayer or collect for those travelling by -land or sea, as she found it in her missal. A few other short but -earnest prayers succeeded, and then she paused once more. Her -audience took the hint and quietly retired. Hamish was about to -follow, but she rose from the _prie-dieu_, and signed to him -to remain. - -"Hamish," she said, gently but decidedly, "I have done your -bidding, and now I expect that you will do mine. I wish to be -alone for the rest of the day--do you understand? alone with God -and my great sorrow! To-morrow I will begin the work for which I -have been left here, but to-day must be my own. Come not here -yourself, and look to it that no one else disturbs me. Keep a -heedful watch upon the soldiers, and see that no mischance occurs -between them and any of our people, I trust to you for this and -all things. Now leave me. If I have need of anything, I will let -you know." - -There was that in Mrs. Netterville's tone and manner which made -Hamish feel he had gone quite far enough already; so, without -another word of remonstrance or expostulation, he made his -reverence and retired. - - - Chapter IV. - -Mrs. Netterville waited until the echo of his retreating -footsteps had died away in the corridor, and then fastening the -door so as to secure herself from any further interruption from -the outside, she once more fell on her knees before the crucifix, -and buried her face in both her hands. How long she remained thus -she never knew exactly; but the shades of a short January evening -were already gathering in the room, when, with a start and a look -as if her conscience smote her, she rose suddenly from her knees. -"Christ pardon me!" she muttered half aloud, "that, in my own -selfish sorrows, I have forgotten others! Poor wretch! By this -time he must be well-nigh famished, if, indeed, (though I trust -it will not,) the delay has not worked him deeper mischief." - -As these thoughts passed rapidly through her mind, she opened a -cupboard close at hand, and drew from thence a bottle of wine, -with some other articles of delicate food, packed carefully in a -wicker-basket, and evidently left there for some especial -purpose. She then sought through the gloom for a cloak, which she -threw upon her shoulders, and, drawing the hood down over her -face, and taking the basket on her arm, she hastily left the -room. Not, however, by the door through which Hamish and the -servants had retreated, but by another at the opposite end, and -which was almost invisible, in consequence of its forming one of -the panels in the black oak wainscoting of the chamber. It led -her directly by a short stone passage to another door or low -wicket, on opening which she found herself in the private grounds -of the castle. Before her at no great distance, stood an old -ivy-covered church, half hidden in a group of tall Irish trees, -which sheltered its little cemetery. -{181} -This was not the parish church, but a private chapel, built by -the Netterville family for their own particular use; and here -their infants had been baptized, their daughters married, and -their old men and women laid reverently to their last slumbers, -ever since they had established their existence in the land. - -Mrs. Netterville could not resist a sigh as she glanced toward -its venerable walls. It seemed as if it were only yesterday that -she had gone there to lay down her husband in his lowly grave, -hoping and praying, out of the depths of her own great grief, -that she might soon be permitted to sleep quietly beside him. And -now, even this sad hope was to be hers no longer; this poor -possession of six feet of earth was to be wrested from her; -strangers would lay her in a distant grave, and even in death she -would be separated from her husband. The thought was too painful -to bear much lingering upon it, and turning her back upon the -church, Mrs. Netterville followed a path which lay close under -the castle walls, and led to a court-yard at a considerable -distance. Round this court-yard were grouped stables and other -offices, which, having been built at different periods and -without any consecutive idea as a whole, presented rather the -appearance of a collection of stunted farm-houses, than of the -regular out-buildings of an important mansion. - -Each of these houses had a private entrance of its own; and -opening the door of one of them, Mrs. Netterville looked in -quietly and entered. The interior was a room, poorly but yet -decently furnished, and on a low settle-bed at the farther end -lay a young man, who, with his sunken eyes and hollow cheeks, had -all the look of a person just rescued from the jaws of death. A -knapsack on the floor, a pike and musket in one corner of the -room, and a steel cap and buff coat in another, seemed to -announce him as one of the band of successful soldiers who were -even then in possession of the castle. - -Poor fellow! he lay, with closed eyes, wan and weary, on his bed, -looking, at that moment, like anything rather than like a -successful soldier; but he lifted his head as he caught the noise -of the door creaking on its hinges, and his face brightened into -an expression of joy and gratitude pleasant to behold when he -discovered Mrs. Netterville standing on the threshold. - -"Can you ever forgive me?" she said, going up to him at once. "I -cannot easily forgive myself for having left you so long alone. -In the grief and anguish in which I have been plunged all day, I -had well-nigh forgotten your existence, and you must be faint, I -fear me, for want of nourishment." - -"Nay, madam," he answered, gently, indeed, but yet with a good -deal of that comfortable self-assurance in spiritual matters -which seems to have been an especial inheritance of "Cromwell's -saints." "If _you_ have forgotten, the Lord at least hath -been mindful of his servant, and hath cast so deep a slumber on -my senses, that I have been altogether unconscious of the lapse -of time, or of the absence of those carnal comforts which, -however the spirit may rebel against them, are nevertheless not -altogether to be despised, as being the means by which we receive -strength to do the bidding of our Master." - -Mrs. Netterville could not help thinking that the posset-cup and -soothing draught, which she had administered the night before, -might have had as much as any especial interposition of -Providence to say to his seasonable slumbers; but the times were -too much out of joint to permit of her making, however -reverently, such an observation, so she merely touched his brow -and hand, and said: - -{182} - -"I am right glad, at all events, that you seem in nowise to have -suffered from my neglect. Eat now and drink, I pray you; for I -perceive by this refreshing moisture on your skin that all danger -has passed away, and that you need at present no worse physic -than good food and wine to restore you to your former strength." - -"Nay, madam," said the soldier, with great and hardly repressed -feeling in his voice and manner. "Eat or drink I cannot, or in -any way refresh myself, until I have poured forth my song of -gratitude, first to the Lord of hosts, who hath delivered me from -this great danger, and then to you, who have tended me (even as -the widow of Sarepta might have waited on Elias) through the -perils of a sickness from which my very comrades and -fellow-laborers in the vineyard fled, trembling and afraid." - -"You must pardon them, good Jackson," said Mrs. Netterville, "and -all the more readily, because this disease, from which you have -so marvellously recovered, is, men say, in its rapid progress and -almost sure mortality, akin, if not indeed wholly similar, to -that terrible malady the plague, which is the scourge of the -Eastern nations, and leaves crowded cities, once it has entered -in, as silent and deserted as the sepulchres of the dead. You -cannot therefore wonder, and you need not feel aggrieved, if men -who would have risked their lives for you on the battle-field, -yet shrunk from its unseen, and therefore, to poor human nature, -its more awful dangers." - -"Nay, madam, I blame them not; perhaps even in their place I -should have done the same. Nevertheless--and though I have no -ill feeling toward them--I cannot forget that you, a Popish woman -and an enemy, have done that for me which the very children of my -own household have shrunk from doing, and I would fain show my -gratitude if I could." - -"You can show it, and that right easily, if you will," she -answered kindly, "by eating and drinking heartily of the -provisions I have brought, and so regaining strength to wait all -the sooner on yourself. For I shall soon, as you doubtless know -already, have work in hand which will compel me to make my visits -fewer; and yet I shall not like to risk other lives by sending -any of the household to wait on you in my stead." - -"Alas! madam, I fear I have been but a troublesome and -unprofitable, though not altogether, I do assure you, a thankless -guest," the man answered, in a somewhat sad and deprecatory -manner. - -"Nay; but now you mistake me altogether," she answered earnestly. -"You have been a most patient sufferer, and that trouble--which -is altogether unavoidable in any sickness--has been, you may -believe me, a pleasure rather than an uneasiness to me. I only -meant to say that, though I shall still continue to visit you -morning and evening, I shall not be able to come so often in the -daytime as I have been used to do; for all matters in this sad -affair of the transplantation having fallen into my hands, you -may well imagine it is as much or more than one poor woman can -well accomplish by her own unaided efforts." - -"Would that I could aid you," he answered fervently--"would that -I could comfort you! But, alas! in this matter of the -transplantation, I can do naught, seeing that it is the Lord -himself who hath girded on our swords, bidding us to smite and -spare not. -{183} -Nevertheless, lady, I am not ungrateful, and in the long, -sleepless nights of my weary malady I have wrestled for you in -prayer, striving exceedingly and being much exercised on your -account; nor gave I over until I had received the comfortable -assurance that, as the Lord sent angels to Lot to deliver him out -of Sodom, so he would some day make of me a shield and a defence, -whereby you might be snatched from the woes that he is about to -rain down on this land, because 'the cry of its idolatry is waxen -great before his face,' and he hath sworn to destroy it." - -"Well, well!" she answered a little impatiently, "I thank you for -your good-will, at all events; but for the present we will -discourse no further on this matter. God will one day judge -between us, and by his fiat I am content to stand or fall, in all -those matters of religion on which, unhappily, we differ. See, I -have trimmed the lamp so that it will burn brightly until -morning, and there is food and wine on this little table. I will -put it close to the bed, so that when you need nourishment, you -will have but to put forth your hand to take it. And now I must -say good-night--to-morrow I will be with you by the early dawn." - -Having thus done all that either charity or hospitality could ask -at her hands, Mrs. Netterville retired from the room, sooner, -probably, than she would have done if the soldier's last words -had not grated on her ear, and roused more angry passions than -she wished to yield to in her breast. - -"He has a good heart, poor wretch," she thought, as she took her -way back to the castle; "but strange and fearful is it to see how -pride, in him, as in all his comrades, usurps the place of true -humility and religion." - -The sudden sound of a pistol going off disturbed her in the midst -of her cogitations; and with a pang of indescribable fear and -presentiment of evil at her heart, she stood still. It seemed to -come from the grove of yew-trees round the church, and was not -repeated. Having ascertained this fact, she walked rapidly -forward in the direction of the sound, her mind in a perfect -whirl of fear, and only able to shape itself into the one -thought, pregnant of future evil, that, either by some of her own -people, or by one of the English soldiers, a murder had been -committed. Just as she entered the grove of yew-trees, she -perceived something like the loose garb of a woman fluttering -down the path before her, and then suddenly disappearing behind -the tower of the little church. She did not dare to call out; but -feeling certain that this person must either have fired the shot -herself, or have seen it fired by some one else, she quickened -her pace in order to overtake her. Twilight was already deepening -among the yew-trees; the path, moreover, was overgrown with weeds -and brambles, and as she ran with her eyes fixed on the spot -where the figure had disappeared, she felt herself suddenly -tripped up by some object lying right before her, and fell -heavily against it. At the first touch of that unseen something, -a sense of terror, such as animals are said to be conscious of in -the presence of their own dead, seized upon her senses, and all -the blood was curdling in her veins as slowly and with difficulty -she removed herself from its contact. Gradually, as she recovered -from the stunning effects of her fall, and her eyes grew -accustomed to the gloom around her, the "thing" on the ground -shaped itself into the form of a human being--but of a human -being so still and motionless, that it seemed probable it was a -corpse already. -{184} -Very reluctantly she put forth her hand to try if life were -really extinct; but suddenly discovering that she was dabbling it -in a pool of yet warm blood, she withdrew it with a shudder. - -"My God! my God!" she moaned, "what enemy hath done this? Surely -it is one of the soldiers from the castle, and they will accuse -our people of the murder! Grant Heaven, indeed, that they are -innocent! Would that Hamish were here to help me. Yet no! they -would certainly in that case try to fix the guilt on him. I will -go hence and let them discover it as they can. Yet what if I -should meet them? I am all dabbled in his gore!" - -With a new and sharp terror in her heart, as this thought took -possession of it, she began hastily to rub her hands in the moss -and dry leaves around her, in order to free them from the blood -which clung to them; and she was still engaged in this rather -equivocal occupation when a sudden stream of light was cast on -her from behind, and, rising suddenly, she found herself face to -face with the officer who had been left in command of the -garrison of the castle. - -Half-a-dozen of his men were at his back, and by the light of the -lantern, which he carried, she read in their faces their -conviction of her guilt. At a sign from their chief they -surrounded her in awful silence, and he himself laid his hand -heavily on her shoulder: - -"Murderess!" he said, "thou art taken in thy sin!" - -"I did it not," cried Mrs. Netterville, so utterly confounded by -this terrible accusation that she hardly knew what she said. "So -help me Heaven! I am innocent of this deed!" - -"Innocent! sayest thou?" the officer answered firmly. "Innocent! -thou with his blood red upon thy hands! Yea, and thy very -garments clotted in his gore! If then thou art innocent, as thou -wouldst have us to believe, say what wert thou doing in this -lonely spot at an hour when none but the murderer or the wanton -would care to be abroad?" - -"I was returning from a visit to the soldier Jackson--a visit -which, as thou knowest, Master Rippel, I pay him every evening at -the hour of dusk; and I had well-nigh reached the castle, when -hearing a shot in this direction, and fearing mischief either for -my own people or for thine, I came hither if possible to prevent -it." - -"A likely story, truly!" replied the officer, who, unluckily for -her, was one of the fiercest, if not the saintliest, of the band -of warriors then domiciled at the castle. "Nay, woman, and for -thine own sake hold thy peace, or out of thine own mouth thou -shalt stand presently condemned. For tell me, my masters," he -added, addressing the other men, "where will you find a woman, -who, hearing a shot, and dreading mischief, would not have fled -from the danger, instead of incontinently rushing, as she would -have us to believe she did, into its very jaws?" - -"Yet have I rushed into the jaws of danger more than once already -within this fortnight, and that not for the sake of my own people -but of thine; as none ought to know better than thou, Master -Rippel, and thy comrades," Mrs. Netterville, now fairly put upon -her mettle, retorted bravely. - -"Nay, and that is naught but the very truth, though the father of -lies (which is Beelzebub) himself had said it," one of the men -here ventured to remark. "For surely, Captain Rippel, you cannot -have forgotten that we should have had a soldier the less in the -camp of Israel, if she had not nursed the good youth Jackson -through this black business of the plague, when we, even we, men -anointed and girded to the fight, did hesitate to go near him." - -{185} - -"Ha! Dost thou also venture to defend her?" cried the officer -angrily. "Nay, then, let that woman which is called Deborah be -brought forward and confronted with the prisoner. Her testimony -must decide between us." - -One or two of the soldiers who had been lingering at a little -distance in the dusky twilight now advanced, half pushing before -them, half leading, the very woman who had addressed Nellie so -impudently in the morning. She came forward with a strange -mixture of eagerness and reluctance in her manner; willing -enough, it might be, to bear false testimony against her -neighbor, but very unwilling to be confronted with its object. - -They placed her face to face with Mrs. Netterville, and the -captain turned his lantern so that the light fell full on the -features of the latter. They were cold and calm, and almost -disdainful in their expression, now that she knew who was her -accuser; and Deborah, spite of all her efforts to brazen out the -interview, cowered beneath her glance of scorn. - -"Nay, but look well upon her, Deborah," said the captain, seeing -that her eyes fell beneath those of the woman she had accused. -"Look well upon her, and say if this be not that Moabitish woman -whom thou sawest, as thou wert lingering (for no good purpose, I -do fear me greatly) in the shadow of the trees--whom thou sawest, -say I, steal hither between light and darkness, and treacherously -do to death our brother Tomkins, who, being--as methinks you -revealed to me just now--wearied overmuch with prayer and holding -forth, (he was, as I myself can testify, a man of most precious -doctrine, and greatly favored in the gift of preaching,) had come -hither to repose himself." - -"Nay," said the woman, speaking in very tolerable English, an -accomplishment she had picked up when in service in Dublin; "of -that great weariness caused by too much prayer and preaching. -Master Rippel, I said naught--my own impression being," she -added, unable even before such an audience to repress the gibe, -"that the slumberous inclinations of worthy Master Tomkins had -been caused by a somewhat too ardent devotion lately tendered to -the wine-cask." - -"Peace, scoffer! peace!" cried the captain. "And if thou wouldst -have thy blasphemy against the Lord and against his saints -forgiven, in this world or the next, look once more on the face -of the prisoner, and be not shamefaced or afraid, but say out -boldly whether you can swear to her in a court of justice as -being the person whom you espied just now in the act--yea, the -very act of murder." - -"I can," said the woman shortly, and avoiding the eye of Mrs. -Netterville as she spoke. - -"Thou canst?" the latter said in a tone of indignant -astonishment. "And pray, if thou wert watching me so narrowly, -why didst thou not endeavor to prevent me?--why not strike up my -weapon?--why not cry out, at least, so as to rouse up the -sleeping soldier?" - -"I did what I could," the woman sullenly responded. "I sought out -his comrades. It was their look-out, not mine, and to them -accordingly I left it." - -{186} - -"She speaks the truth, as we who so lately heard her tale can -testify," the captain answered quickly. "You see, my men," he -added, addressing the other soldiers, "Beelzebub is divided -against himself, and the very children of his kingdom bear -witness against each other. Surely the woman Netterville is -guilty. Take her, therefore, some of you, a prisoner to the -castle, while the rest prepare a decent burial for our murdered -brother. I myself must speak apart with the witness Deborah, in -order to put her testimony into a fitting shape to be laid before -the court of my lords, the high commissioners of justice." - - - Chapter V. - -The sun had climbed well-nigh midway in the heavens, lighting up -Clew Bay and its hundred isles until they glinted like emeralds -in the blue setting of the sea, as an old, white-haired man and a -young girl--the latter carrying a small bundle in one hand, while -with the other she supported the failing strength of her -companion, made their way, slowly and painfully, along the valley -through which runs the bright "Eriff" river on its way to the -ocean. Following the up course of the stream, they had passed, -almost without knowing it, through some of the finest of the -mountain scenery of the west, up hill and down hill, by pretty -cascades, in which the river seemed to be playing with the -obstacles which opposed it; round huge bare shoulders of rifted -and out-jutting rock; through dark, deep purple gorges, which -looked as if the mountains had been wrenched violently asunder in -order to produce them; and now, at last, they found themselves in -a quiet, dreary-looking glen, where cushions of soft moss and -yielding heather seemed to woo them to repose. Nevertheless, -footsore and worn out as they evidently were, they continued to -press bravely forward until they had nearly arrived at the -farther end of the valley; but by that time the old man's head -had begun to droop wearily on his breast, and his steps had -become so languid and uncertain that it was evident it would be -perilous to proceed farther without giving him the rest he so -absolutely required. Choosing, therefore, a little nook, where -the turf grew soft and dry, and where clusters of tall fern and -heather, rising nearly six feet from the root, seemed to promise -at least partial shelter from the midday sun, the girl quietly -disposed of her bundle as a pillow for his head, and invited him -with a smile to a siesta. He obeyed as readily as if he had been -a child, and she then sat down beside him, crooning an old -nursery lullaby to hush him into slumber. But she sought no such -salutary oblivion for herself; and no sooner had his eyes begun -to close in sleep than she rose, and, as if anxiety had rendered -her incapable of remaining quiet, wandered restlessly on until -she reached the top of a hill which shut in the valley from the -land beyond. There she paused, fear and foreboding, weariness and -sorrow, all forgotten or swallowed up in the breathless -admiration which took instant possession of her soul. Around her, -crumbled and tumbled in all directions, were hills bare indeed of -trees, but green to the very summit, and strangely picturesque in -the fantastic variety of their forms. There were quiet glens and -solemn, rock-strewn passes, with streamlets swelled into -cataracts by the rains of spring, yet looking in the distance -like mere threads of liquid silver spirting from their rugged -sides. There were long brown tracts of peat land, brightened and -relieved by patches of golden, flowering gorse, or of that thin -herbage which, in its perfectly emerald green, is only to be seen -in such like boggy places; and over and above all this, there -were the shadowy outlines of more than one far-off range of -mountains melting into the delicate blue background of the sky, -and changing color, as rapidly as the young cheek of beauty, -beneath the ever-shifting lights and shadows of that "cloud -scenery" which is nowhere more -beautiful or varied than in Ireland. -{187} -To the left, and looking, in the clear atmosphere, so close that -she almost felt she could have touched it with her outstretched -hand, rose "Croagh Patrick," sacred to the memory of Ireland's -great apostle; and Clew Bay lay, or seemed to lie, bright and -shining at her feet--Clew Bay, with its gracefully winding shore, -and its archipelago of islets; some bold, beetling rocks, ready -and able to do battle with the storm, others mere baskets of -verdure floating on the tide; while the largest and most -picturesque of them all, the sea, girt kingdom of Grana-Uaile, -Clare Island, stood bravely up, cliff over cliff, at the very -mouth of the harbor, guarding it against the winter encroachments -of the Atlantic, which, green as liquid jasper, and calm, in that -summer weather, as a giant sleeping in the sunshine, unrolled -itself beyond. Long and wistfully Nellie fixed her gaze upon that -fair prospect; and it was with a strange reluctance and -foreboding of future sorrow, that she at last withdrew in order -to examine attentively that portion of the country which lay more -immediately around her, and with which she believed herself about -to be more intimately connected. As she did so, a building, -perched half-way up a hill, rather more inland than that upon -which she herself was standing, attracted her eye, and she -gasped, with a sudden mingling of hope and fear, like a person -choking; for she felt a sudden conviction that in the wild, -uncultivated lands beneath her she beheld the portion assigned to -her grandfather by the commissioners at Loughrea, and in that -edifice, which seemed to have been built for the express purpose -of commanding and overawing the entire district, the house in -which they had told her she was to establish her new home. -_House_, indeed, it could scarcely be called in anything -like the modern acceptation of the term, though it was probably -perfectly well suited to the wants and wishes of the wild -chieftains by whom it had been erected. The original building had -consisted of a single tower, of which the rough, rude walls, -formed of huge stones, put unhammered and uncemented together, -betrayed its origin in times so far remote as to have no history -even in the oldest annals of the land. Added on to this gray -relic of the past, however, a new building was now evidently in -process of erection. It was far from finished yet, as Nellie knew -by the poles and scaffoldings around it; but even in its embryo -state it bore a terribly suspicious resemblance to that square, -simple fortalice type of building which seems to have been the -one architectural idea of Cromwell's Irish drafted soldiers, and -which still remains in many places, the silent but -uncontrovertible witness--the seal which they themselves have set -upon their forcible and unjust possession of the land. The very -look of that half-finished building seemed an answer to Nellie's -late foreboding, and with a sinking heart she turned her back -upon it and retraced her steps to the place where she had left -Lord Netterville. The old man had already shaken off his fitful -slumbers, and was toiling feebly up the hill. - -{188} - -Nellie ran back to fetch her bundle, which he had been unable to -bring with him; but overtaking him in an instant, she gave him -her arm, led him to the spot from whence she had just been taking -her bird's-eye view of the country, and, pointing to the -fortalice in process of erection, watched anxiously to discover -what sort of impression it would make on his mind. But either he -did not observe it, or did not take in the peculiar significance -of its presence in those wilds; and finding that he remained -silent and apparently unmoved, she collected all her remaining -energy to say cheerfully: - -"Look at that old gray tower to the right. If the man whom we met -this morning among the hills spoke truth, we have reached the end -of our weary journey, and yonder is our future home. It is not -like our own dear Netterville, indeed, and yet it seems a goodly -enough mansion. So goodly," she added, stealing a glance beneath -her long lashes to see how he took the insinuation, "that I -almost wonder they should have dealt thus kindly by us; for I -know that many of the first of the 'transplanted' have had their -lots assigned them in places where there was not even the hut of -a peasant to shelter them from the weather." - -"Tush, child! talk not to me of houses," the old man answered -querulously, too much occupied with the actual disadvantages of -his position to catch the hidden drift of Nellie's observation. -"What boots a goodly mansion, if starvation be at its portal? And -what, I pray you, but starvation are they condemned to, who have -been sent to make themselves a home among these barren -mountains?" - -Nellie suffered her eyes to roam once more over the bright waters -of the bay, and then, with a quick sense of beauty kindling up in -her soul, she turned them hopefully upon Lord Netterville. - -"Nay, dear grandfather, it is, after all, a country fair and -pleasant to the eye, and once my dear mother rejoins us with the -cows and 'garrans,' there can be no lack of plenty, even in these -wilds." - -"Cows and garrans! And where are we to feed them, girl? Do you -expect to find the pleasant grazing-lands of Meath on the tops of -these barren hills? or are we to fatten our flocks on the -sea-drift, which, I have heard say, the natives of these wilds -are in the habit of gathering on the shore and boiling down into -food, not for their cattle, (they have none, poor wretches!) but -themselves?" - -"Some of these hills certainly look black and bare enough, but -still I doubt not that among their glens and hollow places we -shall find many a good acre of green grass for the grazing of our -cattle," the girl answered patiently, and with an evident -determination to look, for the present at least, only on the -bright side of the question. "And now, dear sir," she added -gently, "had we not best move onward? for if yonder tower is -really to be our home, the sooner we are there the better." - -She glanced toward the castle as she spoke, and the old man saw -that she started violently as she did so. She said not another -word, however; but he fancied that her cheek grew a shade -paler--if that were possible--than it had been before, as she -continued to gaze silently in that direction. - -"What is it, Nellie?" he cried at last, frightened by her strange -looks and silence. "What do you see, child, that you look so -white and scared?" - -"See!" she answered slowly and reluctantly, "there seems to be a -party of many people gathering in the court-yard; the house, -therefore, must be inhabited already!" - -{189} - -"People in the court-yard!" cried the old man, now fairly aroused -to that same fear which had been haunting Nellie for the last -half-hour. "What people, Nellie? Tell me, child, if you can -distinguish whether they seem to be natives or strangers to the -place. Our fate, alas! may be dependent on that fact." - -The girl walked forward, and shading her eyes with her hand from -the blinding sunshine, looked again, and yet again, in the -direction of the tower. - -"Yes," she said at last; "I was not mistaken. There is a party in -the court-yard, and some of them are even standing in the -gate-way, as if they had but this instant stept forth from the -mansion. Surely, grandfather, we cannot have misunderstood or -mistaken our instructions? There is no other building to be -seen--even in the distance--and this one answers in all respects -to the description. The man, too, from whom we inquired our way -this morning, assured us that it was called 'The Rath'--the very -name set down in our certificate. We cannot have been mistaken, -and yet--and yet--if there be persons already in possession, -their claim must needs be superior to our own." - -She spoke hesitatingly, and in broken sentences, as if she were -following out a train of thought in her own mind, rather than -addressing her companion. He listened anxiously, and a cloud -gathered on his brow as he gradually took in her meaning. - -"It may be only some of the natives," he said at last, in a low -voice. "The original owners, perhaps, of the tower, who have -waited our arrival before giving up possession." - -"Owners!" said Nellie quickly. "They told us at Loughrea that the -owner had perished in the war, and that therefore we should find -it empty." - -"They may have been mistaken, Nellie. They know little enough, I -think, those high and mighty commissioners at Loughrea, of the -land of which they are so liberally disposing; and still less, I -doubt me, of its original possessors." - -"And if they are mistaken, we shall take the place of the -rightful owners, and so deal out to others the very measure which -our enemies have dealt to us. Grandfather, if we are guilty of -this thing, we shall have a twofold sin upon our souls--their -iniquity and our own." - -"What would you have, child?" he answered pettishly; for, truth -to say, he had yet quite enough of the Englishman about him, not -to be over-particular as to the rights of the native Irish. "What -would you have? Did you not know already that, in the acceptation -of these lands, we were taking that which it was neither in the -Cromwellians' right to give or in ours to receive? And what if an -old tumble-down tower be thrown into the bargain? Trust me, -Nellie, the business is so black already that, like the face of -his Satanic majesty, who is the author of it, a little more or -less of smutch will hardly make it blacker or uglier than it is." - -"I never thought of this before," said Nellie sadly; "I thought -only--fool that I was, so selfishly intent on my own -misfortunes--I thought only of tracts of land left barren for -want of inhabitants to till them, and of houses emptied by the -fate of war. I never dreamed of men and women and little children -turned out of their pleasant homes to make room for us--us who -have as little right to their possessions as the English soldiers -have to ours!" - -{190} - -"Nevertheless it has been done in almost every other case of -transplantation which I have heard of," the old man answered -restlessly. "And the iniquity--for it _is_ an iniquity--is -theirs who have driven us to such spoliation, not ours who have -been compelled in our own despite to do it." - -But Nellie was far too noble, and too clear-sighted in her -nobleness, to shelter her actions behind such a subterfuge, and -she answered vehemently: - -"But it must not be in ours, sir--it must not be in ours! We -will go down at once, and if the persons whom we see yonder be -the rightful owners of that tower, we will merely crave rest and -hospitality at their hands, until such a time as we have found a -place, however humble, in which, without injury to honor or -conscience, we can make ourselves a home." - -"As you will, Nellie--as you will," he answered, too weary, -perhaps, to be able longer to dispute the point. "But after all, -we may be mistaken as to the ownership of these people. Look -again, and tell me, if you can, whether they are clad like -Englishmen, or in the native weeds?" - -"Not in the native weeds, I think, my father. Rather I should -say, if it were not impossible, that the men whom I see down -yonder belonged to the army of the oppressor. Ha! Now a lady is -coming forth, and now they are mounting her, and a tall, stately -personage in--yes--certainly in military attire, is mounting -also, and takes his place at her side. Now half a dozen servants, -I suppose, or friends, are on their horses likewise, and now they -are moving forward. Father, they must come this way, there is -none other that I can see by which horses can pass with safety. -Let us wait for them behind the bank, and then, when they are -near enough, we will accost them, and if they be of the -conquering army, show them our certificate. They will, of course, -bow to its authority, and help us to take possession of that -house which the document assigns us. I am glad a woman is among -them; it will make it easier, I think, to speak." - -As Nellie ran on thus, she drew her grandfather with her behind a -bank which dipt down suddenly upon the path, narrowing it until -it was all but impassable to riders. There, with pale face and -tightened breath, she nervously awaited the advent of the party -upon whose favorable or unfavorable disposition toward them she -felt her own fate and Lord Netterville's to be so painfully -dependent. - - - To Be Continued. - --------- - -{191} - - - The Roman Gathering. [Footnote 46] - - By W. G. Dix. - - [Footnote 46: We give place to the above article in our - columns, though from a non-Catholic pen, thinking that it - will be read with interest by our readers, while it - indicates, at the same time, the religious tendencies which - are becoming more and more prevalent among not a small class - of minds in our country.--Editor C. W.] - - - -A man of many years, without vast temporal resources, despoiled -of a part of his possessions, having many and vigorous enemies -about him, and regarded by many even of those who profess the -Christian faith as about to fall from his high place in -Christendom, such a man invites his brethren of the apostolical -ministry throughout the world to honor by their personal presence -at Rome the anniversary of the martyrdom, eighteen hundred years -ago, of Saint Peter and Saint Paul, and to join with him in the -exaltation of martyrs who, like them, though in far distant -lands, were "faithful unto death." They respond with eager joy -and haste to the call, and those who cannot go send on the wings -of the wind their words of loving veneration. - -To say not a word of the spiritual claims of the man who sent -forth the invitation, so eagerly and widely accepted, there is in -the fact just stated a glowing evidence that, even in these days -of triumphant and insolent materialism, moral power has not -entirely lost ascendency. Though millions of knees are bent in -honor of the Dagon of materialism, in some one or other of its -myriad forms of degrading idolatry, yet millions of hearts also -recognize the gift of God as present evermore in his holy church. -Never before has the Catholic Church beheld so great a multitude, -from so distant places, assembled at her call at the central city -of the faith. - -The enemies of catholicity have again and again referred to the -great inventions of modern times as sure destroyers of the claims -of the Catholic Church and of her hold upon her millions of -members; but lo! these very inventions are brought into the -service of the church. The printing-press, which was going to -annihilate the Catholic Church, has proved one of her most -effectual bulwarks; millions of printed pages inspire the -devotion of her children, and make known her claims to reading -men, until many who were even her enemies and revilers, from -ignorance and prejudice, acknowledge their error, and make haste -to go to "their father's house." Steam, in the view of many, was -about so to change the structure of society that the old and -decrepid Church of Rome, the great obstacle on the railroad of -materialism, was about to be run over and cast to the roadside, a -weak and useless wreck; but lo! the power of steam enables -hundreds and thousands more to go up to the sacred city, as the -tribes of Israel were wont to visit Jerusalem, than could -otherwise attend the festivals of the faith in St. Peter's -Church. Of the manifold uses of steam, a large proportion is in -the service of catholic truth. And then the telegraph; that, -surely, was to show an advanced state of civilization which could -not tolerate the slow and ancient ways of catholicity; but lo! -here, again, the event has contradicted the prophecy; for, by -means of the telegraph, the assemblage of the vast host at Rome -was known throughout the world on the very day of its occurrence; -and almost literally, in all parts of Christendom, thousands of -devout worshippers could turn their faces reverently toward the -altar of God in Rome at the very instant when those in its -immediate presence were bending before it, and could join in the -same prayers and anthems, as though the world itself were one -vast St. Peter's Church, and the strains of penitence and hymns -of joy could reverberate across oceans and mountains, among -distant nations and islands of the sea, as among the corridors -and arches of one great temple sacred to the triune God. - -{192} - -As in these instances, so in many others, the church has extended -her sway and deepened her power by the very forces which many -supposed would work her ruin. The history of the church has shown -in the domain of natural science, so often applied in the service -of infidelity and disorder, as in the field of human passion, -that God will make the wrath of man to praise him, and turn -weapons designed to attack his holy Church into her consecrated -armor of defence. The grace of God so overrules the inventions of -man and the powers of nature, that even the terrible lightning -becomes the vivid messenger to convey to the ends of the earth -the benediction of the Vicar of Christ. - -What is the chief lesson of the recent gathering at Rome? It is -this, that the church of God, so often, in the view of her -enemies, destroyed, will not stay destroyed; that after every -"destruction" she renews her invincible youth, and rises to -pursue her career of conquest over sin, prejudice, and wrong; -that, though she may bend awhile to the storm that beats upon her -sacred head, she has never been wholly overcome; that, -notwithstanding all that mortal enmity, defection, outrage, have -done or can do, she yet lifts her forehead to the sky to be anew -baptized with light from the sun of truth above; and, strong in -the faith and promise of the Eternal God, she falters not in her -endeavors, patient and persistent, to subdue the world to Christ. - -The history of the Catholic Church abounds with instances like -the Roman gathering in June, which prove that her hours of -affliction are those very ones when her faithful children gather -to her side, to assure her of their prayers and support, and to -discern upon her saintly face those "smiles through tears," -which, in times of trial, are the warmest and most touching -acknowledgments of filial veneration. - -The commemorative assemblage at the capital of Christendom, -signifies that the church of God is indestructible by any forces -that earth or hell, singly or united, can bring against her. She -may be at times like the bird in the snare of the fowler; but she -is sure of being released at length, and then she plumes her -wings afresh, and soars heavenward, filling the air with the -divine, exultant music of her voice. The powerful of the earth -have sometimes loaded the church with fetters; but by the -strength of Christ that dwells evermore in her, she has broken -the bonds asunder, or, by his transforming grace, they have -become the wreaths and garlands of new victory, even as the cross -of humiliation has become, by the sacrifice of our Lord, the -emblem of unfading glory. - -The church of Christ, bearing on her brow his holy seal, and in -her hands his gifts of power, knelt in sorrow at his grave; but -she hailed his resurrection with joy, and was endowed anew with -treasures of immortal life. -{193} -Afterward, the might of heathendom arose against her, and she -descended from the wrath of man into the catacombs; but she -reascended, to wear upon her brow the diadem of a spiritual -empire that shall never fall until the elements shall melt with -fervent heat; and even then, true to all her history in deriving -new glory from every apparent defeat, she will rise again from -the great grave of nature to enjoy for ever the vision of God. -Kings of the earth have denied her right to invest the pastors of -her children with their due prerogatives, and have even dared her -to mortal combat; but though distressed and thwarted, she has -never relinquished her inherent rights, and she never will. As -many times as the head of the church on earth has been driven -from Rome by armed, ungrateful violence, so many times exactly -has he been welcomed back with tears of penitence and shouts of -rapture. - -Despoiled of treasures committed to her care by faithful stewards -of God's bounty, she has labored with her own hands to feed her -needy children. At one time, persecuted in the wilderness, she -has found a refuge and a welcome in the courts of princes; at -another, driven from the courts of princes, because she would not -deny her Lord or her divine commission, she has found a humble -sanctuary in the wilderness, and knelt upon the bare earth to -adore the Lord of life and light, once the child in the manger, -and to invoke all the saints in glory to plead her cause in the -ear of infinite justice and goodness. - -She has spurned the anointed king from the temple of God, until -he repented of his crime; and on the head of the lowly monk who -was spending his days in labor and prayer, she has placed the -triple crown. With one hand she has bathed with "baptismal dew" -the brow of the day-laborer's child, while the other she has -raised in defiance of imperial might, which dared to assail her -holy altar. - -One of the most violent objections to the Catholic Church has -been urged for the very reason that she has so faithfully held -the balance between the contending forces of society. She has -been accused of favoring the claims of absolutism or popular -demands, as the triumph of either at the time would favor her own -ends, irrespective of right. The charge is unjust, is urged by -many who know better, yet it springs from an honest -misapprehension in many minds. It would have been utterly -impossible for an institution, designed to enlighten and guide -mankind in its higher relations, not to touch human interests of -every kind, and human institutions generally in many ways; yet -the challenge may safely be given to any thoughtful student of -history, to acknowledge with candor, whatever may be his -ecclesiastical position, that the Catholic Church, having often -been chosen to be, and having an inherent right to be, the umpire -between the rights of authority and the rights of individuals, -has faithfully labored to sustain lawful authority when assailed -by the wild fury of misguided multitudes, and that she has -interposed her powerful shield, often with the most triumphant -success, to protect men whose rights as men were assailed by -authority changed by ambition into arrogant and exacting tyranny. -What inconsistency and insincerity have been charged against the -Catholic Church for this remarkable and noble fact in her -history! In this respect the Catholic Church has followed -strictly in the steps of her Divine Author, who, when on earth, -invariably upheld the rights of authority, while vehemently -denouncing those who unjustly exercised it; and while going about -doing good, the friend of the friendless and the helper of the -helpless, pleading with divine eloquence, and laboring with -divine power for the outcast and the poor, never and nowhere -sanctioned the spirit of insurrection, but enjoined obedience as -one of the main duties of life. -{194} -Hence, it has come about, by one of those sublime mysteries, -which prove the divine origin of Christianity, that the greatest -revolution which has ever taken place in religious belief and in -civil society in all their bearings, has been effected by the -teachings, by the life and death of one who by no word or deed -ever assailed authority itself or incited resistance to it. - -Beauty and order being the same thing, and religious truth being -the beauty of holiness, Christ, who was truth in person, must -have made his church the friend and upholder of all beauty and -order; and so it has proved for eighteen hundred years. The -church has been the celestial crucible in which whatever of human -art or invention had within it the essential attributes of higher -and spiritual goodness has been purified and adapted to the -service of religion. Has poetry sought to please the imaginations -of men? the church of Christ unfolded before her the annals of -Christianity, with her grand central sacrifice of infinite love, -and all her demonstrations of heroic suffering and courageous -faith; and poetry drew holier inspiration from the view, and -incited men by higher motives to a higher life. Have painting and -sculpture sought to represent objects of refining grace and -sublimity? the church of Christ persuaded them to look into the -records of the Christian past, and there they found treasures of -beauty and splendor, devotion and martyrdom, whose wealth of -illustration as examples; incentives, and memorials, art has not -exhausted for centuries, and will never exhaust. Christian -history is the inexhaustible quarry of whatever is most noble and -heroic in man, purified by the grace of God. Has architecture -sought to invest stone with the attributes of spiritual and -intellectual grace? the church of God has so portrayed before her -the sublimities of the Christian faith, that she knelt at her -feet in veneration, and thenceforth consecrated herself to build -enduring structures, which, the more they show of human power and -skill, the more they persuade men to the worship of God. Has -eloquence sought to nerve men for the grand conflicts of life? -the church of Christ has touched the lips of eloquence with -living fire from her altar, until have sprung forth words that -flamed with love to man and love to God. Has music sought to -weave her entrancing spells around the ear and heart and soul? -the church of Christ has breathed into music her own divine -being, until the music of the church seems like beatific worship, -and worship on earth like beatific music. - -As in these respects, so in others, the church has made a holy -conquest of whatever is noblest among the endowments of men. In -speaking of Catholic history, even from the secular point of -view, it may be justly said, that nowhere else has there been -such wonderful discernment of the various capacities of the human -mind, and of their various adaptations. Tenacious of the truth -and of all its prerogatives, the Catholic Church has, -nevertheless, allowed a wide liberty of thought. That the -Catholic Church has narrowed the understandings of men, is a -singular charge to make in the face of the schools of Catholic -philosophy, in which men of varying mental structure, training, -or habits of thought, have had full, free play of their -faculties. -{195} -And where else have there been so many free and varying -activities as in the Catholic Church? The false charge that the -church fetters the minds and movements of men, may be traced to -the fact that all Catholic diversities of thought have converged, -like different rays of light, in the elucidation of truth, and -that varying modes of Catholic action have had one object--the -advancement of truth. - -Here is the intended force of all these illustrations, for they -have had a logical purpose. The world will never outgrow the -church. All the boasted improvements in science, in art, in -civilization, so far from impeding the church of Christ, and -making her existence no longer needed, will, at the same time, -advance her power, and make her more needed than ever. If in the -middle ages, when society was in the process of transition from -the old to the new, the church was pre-eminently needed to keep -what was just and right and true in the older forms of -civilization, and gradually to adapt to them what was just and -right and true in the newer developments of society, most truly -is the church needed now, when there exists a perfect chaos of -opinions, and when a part of the civilized world is in another -transition, from the aimless, rudderless vagaries of -Protestantism to the solid rock of Catholicity. If ever the voice -of authority was needed, like the voice of the angel of God, -heard amid and above the howlings of the storm, it is needed now. - -Much false reasoning has been uttered about the "unchangeable -church," as though, because "unchangeable," it was not adapted to -a changing and striving world, when, in truth, for the very -reason that the church of Christ is unchangeably true, she is -required and adapted for all the changes and emergencies of time. -Who ever heard a sailor complain of the mariner's compass, -because, on account of its unchangeable obstinacy, it would not -conform to his private judgments and caprices about the right -course? No one. It is for the very reason that the mariner's -compass is unchangeably true to the eternal law of magnetic -attraction, under all circumstances and in all places, that it is -the unerring guide among the whirlwinds and heavings of the great -deep. Catholicity is the mariner's compass upon a greater -deep--even that of the wild and rolling, beating ocean of -humanity, pointing, amid sunny calms, or gentle winds, or raging -gales, unerringly to the cross of Jesus Christ, as the needle of -the mariner's compass points to the north--guiding, age after -age, the precious freights of immortal souls to the harbor of -infinite and unending joy. - -The force of this illustration is all the stronger that the -mariner's compass is a human adaptation of an immutable law of -nature to navigation, while the church of the living God is -divine alike in origin and application, and has existed from the -beginning, unchangeable, like God himself, yet adapting herself -to the wants of every age. The church of God is like his own -infinite providence, in which unchangeable truth meets in the -harmony of mercy the innumerable changes of human need. - -Much has been written and more said about "the church of the -future," as though it were to be some millennial manifestation -altogether different from the historic church; but the church of -the future, which is not also the church of the past and of the -present, can be no church; for a true church must reach to the -ages back as well as to those before. -{196} -If the continuity is broken, truth is broken, and cannot be -restored. As for eighteen centuries there have been no forms of -civil society, no calms or tempests in the moral, political, -social, or religious world, in which the Catholic Church has not -been true to the organic principles of her divine life, even the -enemy of catholicity should admit--that fact being granted--that -the presumption is on her side that she will be equally true to -those principles during the centuries that are to come. He may -deny that the church has been true, and, consequently, that she -will be true, but he will not admit one proposition and deny the -other; he will admit both or deny both. In other words, he will -admit, equally with the friend of catholicity, the identity of -the church, past, present, and to come. Now, it will be -impossible for a friend or enemy of the Catholic Church, from her -beginning to this very day, to point to an hour when she was not -a living church; it is, then, probable, that she will continue to -be a living church. But where, since the promulgation of -Christianity to this time, has existed a body of Christian -believers, which, for the quality of continual existence, has so -good a right to be called the church of Christ as the Catholic -Church? Considering her numbers, extent, and duration, that -church has been preeminently the church of the past; considering -numbers, extent, and duration, that church is pre-eminently the -church of the present; considering all analogies and -probabilities, then the Catholic Church will be preeminently the -church of the future. In truth, the vindictive anger of the -enemies of the Catholic Church, in whatever form of opposition it -may be shown, proceeds from the fact, not that she is the dead -church of the past, as she is sometimes called, for there would -be no reason to war with the dead, but because she is, as she has -been and will be, the living church. The Catholic Church is hated -not for being too dead, but for being too living. She has seen -the birth and death of countless "improvements" of her -principles, and she has received with gladness into her fold many -an eager and conscientious inquirer for the "new church," who has -at length reached an end of his wanderings and a solution of his -doubts in finding, with tears of rapturous submission, that the -new church, for which he was seeking, is the same church which -has stood for ages, ever old, yet ever new, because representing -Him who is alike the Living God and the Ancient of Days. - -The Catholic Church, so frequently and unjustly denounced as ever -behind the age, or even as facing the past, has been foremost in -all parts of the world. She has sent her faithful soldiers of the -cross where the spirit of commerce dared not go; she was the -first in the east and the first in the West; it was her lamp of -divine light which dispelled the gloomy terrors of the barbarous -north of Europe; it was her sceptre of celestial beauty, which, -under the guidance of Heaven, transformed the political and -social wreck of southern Europe into order. In what part of the -world which man could reach has she not planted the cross? Where -on the face of the earth is the mountain whose craggy sides have -not, at one time or another, sent back into the sounding air the -echoes of Catholic worship? - -{197} - -Daniel Webster gave a vivid picture of the extent of the power of -England, in what I think to be the grandest sentence which -America has contributed to the common treasure of English -literature. He said: "The morning drum-beat, following the sun, -and keeping company with the hours, circles the earth daily with -one unbroken strain of the martial airs of England." That grand -figure of speech may be applied to the extent of the Catholic -Church. Yet it is not by martial airs, but by hymns of praise and -penitential orisons and the continuous sacrifice that the -Catholic Church daily celebrates, "from the rising of the sun -unto the going down of the same," the triumphant march of the -Prince of Peace. How like "the sound of many waters" rolls hourly -heavenward the anthems of catholic worship throughout the world! -Not only is every moment of every day consecrated by catholic -hymns sung somewhere on earth; but how majestically roll down -through eighteen hundred years the unbroken anthems of catholic -devotion! Minute after minute, hour after hour, day after day, -night after night, month after month, year after year, century -after century, the holy strains go on unending. To the mind's ear -seem blended in one almost overpowering flood of holy harmony the -unnumbered voices which have sounded from the very hour when the -shepherds of Bethlehem heard the angelic song to this very -moment, when, somewhere, catholic voices are chanting praise to -the Lord and Saviour of men. - -And, in this view, how literally has been fulfilled that -consoling prophecy, "Henceforth all generations shall call me -blessed." Wherever the Divine Son has been duly honored, there -also she, who was remembered with filial love even amid his dying -agonies for a world's salvation, has been remembered and called -blessed; called blessed from that lowly home and from that mount -of sorrow in the distant east, in millions of lowly homes, and -under the shadow of mountains to the farthest west; called -blessed by millions of loving and imploring voices through all -the ages since; called blessed in all the languages that have -been spoken since that time in all the world; called blessed in -the rudest forms of human speech and in the most ecstatic music -of voice and skill; called blessed by the lips of the little -child that can hardly speak the name of mother, and by the lips -that tremble with age and sorrow; called blessed by the sailor on -the deep, by the ploughman on the land, by the scholar at his -books, by the soldier drawing his sword for right upon the -battle-field; called blessed by the voices of peasant-girls -singing in sunny vineyards, and by the voices of those from whose -brows have flashed the gems of royal diadems; called blessed in -cottages and palaces, at wayside shrines, and under the golden -roofs of grand cathedrals; called blessed in the hour of joy and -in the hour of anguish--in the strength and beauty of life, and -at the gates of death. How long, how ardently, how faithfully has -all this loving honor been paid for so many generations, and will -continue to be paid for all generations to come, to that -sorrowing yet benignant one, who bore him who bore our woe! - -The recent gathering at Rome indicates that there is no demand -which civilization can rightfully make of the Christian Church -which she will not eagerly, fully, and faithfully meet. The -largest assemblage of professed ministers of Christ which this -age has known--leaving here out of view the claims of the -Catholic Church to an apostolical priesthood--has been held in -Rome by the church, so extensively proclaimed and derided as -being behind the age. If there is life, deep, full, pervading -life anywhere on earth, it is in the Catholic Church and in all -her movements. -{198} -She will continue to draw to herself all the qualities and -capacities of life which are in harmony with her spirit; and this -accumulated spiritual force will constantly weaken the barriers -that divide her from the sympathies of a large part of -Christendom, until at length she will be acknowledged by all as -the only living and true church of Christ. - -"The restoration of the unity of the church" has been the subject -of many thoughts, of many words, of earnest and devout prayer, of -much and noble effort, and, when understood as referring to the -reconciliation of those who have left the Catholic Church, or who -are now out of it because their fathers left it, the phrase may -pass without objection; but the phrase is greatly objectionable, -even to the extent of expressing an untruth, when it is used to -convey the idea that the unity of the church has ever been -broken. This has not been, and could not be. The church, intended -to be one, and to endure until the end of time, could not, in its -organic structure, be really broken at any period of its history, -without destroying its title as the one church of Christ. -Individuals, communities, even nations, as such, have been broken -off from it; but the essential church herself has remained one -and unbroken through all vicissitudes. The theory that the Church -of Rome, the Greek Church, and the Church of England are equal -and co-ordinate branches of the one church of Christ has no -foundation as an historical fact, and is as destructive of all -true ideas of the unity of the church as the wildest vagaries of -Protestantism. Is there on earth an institution which schism, -heresy, and political ambition have tried to destroy and have -tried in vain? There is; it is the Catholic Church. Is there an -institution on earth which, leaving out of regard all its claims, -has had the quality of historical continuity for eighteen -centuries? There is; it is the Catholic Church. - -The charge, if not of bigotry, yet of most unreasonable -arrogance, has been more or less directly made against the -Catholic Church, because she has not received overtures of -reconciliation from enthusiastic and earnest individuals claiming -to represent national churches, as cordially as was expected. But -how can she accept, or even consider, any such overtures, -proceeding as they do from the assumption of equal position and -authority, without disowning herself, without denying even those -claims and prerogatives, the existence of which alone makes union -with her desirable? If there is no institution on earth which has -a valid title to be the continuous church of Christ, all efforts -will be vain to supply the gap of centuries by an establishment -now. A union of churches will not satisfy the design or promise -of our Lord, when he founded the unity of his church. If the -Christian church has really been broken into pieces, it will be -in vain to gather up the fragments; for, on that supposition, the -divine principle has long since departed, and the gates of hell -have prevailed. Those men of strong Catholic predilections, who, -nevertheless, have clung to the theory that the church of Christ -has been really broken, and must be repaired by management, will -yet thank God from their inmost souls for the immovable firmness -with which that theory has been denied at Rome. - -The Catholic Church has never condemned a heresy more false or -destructive than the proposition that she is herself but one of -the divisions of the Christian church, having no authority to -speak or to rule in the name of her Lord. -{199} -To deny that the one church of Christ is now existing, and that -she has existed for ages, is to deny not merely a fact in -history, but it is to deny the word of our Lord; and to do that, -is to deny alike his holiness and his divinity. How can the -Catholic Church treat with those who wish to make terms before -submitting to her authority, on the basis of a positive untruth? -Catholicity is not an inheritance, to be decided among many -claimants, no one of whom has any right to be or to be regarded -as the sole heir of the homestead; but it is an estate left by -the divine Lord of the manor, in charge of the Prince of the -Apostles and his successors, on the express injunction that it is -to be kept one and undivided, in trust for the benefit of the -faithful for all time. The estate has been kept one and -undivided, according to the title-deed; the injunction has never -been broken; notwithstanding all defections from the household, -the homestead of the Christian world remains in the hands of the -same faithful succession to which it was committed by our Lord -himself. May God grant that all the younger sons who have gone -astray, may return with penitential alacrity to their Father's -house! - -The Catholic Church will not stop in her progress, until she has -converted the world to Christ; but she has not denied, and will -not deny, her sacred trust and prerogative of catholicity for the -sake even of adding whole nations to her fold. Whoever enters her -fold must admit by that act her claim to be the one, undivided, -indivisible Church of Christ. There can be no "branches of the -Catholic Church" which are not directly joined to the root and -trunk of catholicity. A severed branch is no branch. - -It is not the fault of the Catholic Church that multitudes "who -profess and call themselves Christians" are not members of her -communion. She affords the very largest liberty for individual or -associated action that can be yielded without denying her faith -or her commission. The highest poetry and the severest logic may -kneel in brotherly harmony at her altar. Gifts and talents the -most diverse have been consecrated to her service. The Catholic -Church advancing, century after century, under the banner of the -cross and dove, to the spiritual conquest of the world! how far -more sublime a spectacle it is than that of some parts of -Christendom, which are broken into little independent bands of -sectarian skirmishers, keeping up a kind of guerrilla warfare -against "the world, the flesh, and the devil," and each other. - -There are inspiring tokens which show the depth and breadth of -the conviction, that the great schism of three centuries ago has -proved a terrible mistake. Multitudes outside of the Catholic -Church are inquiring with earnest solicitude about the meaning of -catholic unity. The main course of intellectual inquiry is, in -both hemispheres, respecting the claims of the Catholic Church. -There are evident signs that the chaos of Protestantism is about -to be broken up, and the wild, and dreary waste to bloom and glow -with Catholic beauty and order. God grant that it may be so, and -that not only thousands of individuals may know how precious a -prize it is to kneel devoutly and sincerely before, the altar of -God; but that even, mighty nations may be convinced, what -priceless gifts they have forfeited by three centuries of -separation from the source of all they have that has been or is -worth keeping. - -{200} - -In view of the fact that the revival of catholic feeling -enkindles also the enmity of those who scan it, the gathering at -Rome is not only an assurance before the world that the Catholic -Church will continue to be the guide of life and the empire of -civilization, but it is also a sublime challenge against all the -agencies of every kind that have been, or may be tried, to -eliminate Catholicity from the age. The Catholic Church has a -work to do, and she will do it. She can no more forego it, than -she can die by her own will. She has never flinched yet; she -never will. It is the very necessity as well as the reason of her -being that she shall fulfil her charge without wavering or -diminution; and this she will do. If the "gates of hell" cannot -prevail against the church of God, she may safely defy all mortal -might. The sun might more easily have refused to come forth at -the bidding of the Creator, than the church can refuse to do his -will in conquering the world for Christ. God speed the day when -the divisions of Christendom shall end; when all who profess to -be the disciples of Jesus Christ shall seek and find consolation -in his one, true, enduring fold; and when the sceptre of God, -manifest in the church, shall be extended in benignant power over -an obedient and rejoicing world. - --------- - - - "The United Churches Of England And Ireland, In Ireland." - [Footnote 47] - - [Footnote 47: _Ireland and her Churches_. By James - Godkin. London, Chapman & Hall. 1867. 1 vol. pp. 623.] - - -It is well to be accurate in the bestowal of titles, and we give, -therefore, the institution whose latest history lies before us -the exact definition by which, these sixty years past, it -rejoices to be known. Under this designation of its own choice -this institution is open to the reflection of being one of the -most modern of all the churches pretending to be national; the -junior of even our own American Episcopal Church, which is not -itself very far stricken in years; the junior, indeed, of all the -other churches we can at this moment recall to memory, unless we -were to include "the Church of the Latter-Day Saints," whose -Mecca stands upon Salt Lake. - -On the first day of January, in the first year of this century, -the ecclesiastical system, establishment, or organization which -designates itself as "the United Church of England and Ireland, -in Ireland," came, with sound of many trumpets, into the world. -On that auspicious day, the legislative union of Ireland and -Great Britain was proclaimed; a new national flag, "the Union -Jack," was run up from the royal towers of London, Dublin, and -Edinburgh; a new royal title was assumed for the coinage of the -new realm, and in all great public transactions; a new "great -seal" was struck for the sovereign of the newly modelled state; -new peers and new commoners were added to the two houses of -Parliament, and, to complete the revolution, by the 5th clause of -the same act, the matters previously mentioned having been first -disposed of, this new church was, on that same day and hour, by -the same authority, called into existence. His majesty's -proclamation, announced at Paul's Cross in London, at the Cross -in Edinburgh, and where the Cross of _le Dame_ street ought -to have been, in Dublin, that "the doctrine, worship, discipline, -and government of the said United Church shall be and shall -remain in full force for ever, as the same are now by law -established for the Church of England." - -{201} - -The two national churches, thus by act of parliament and royal -proclamation, united into, so to speak, one imperial church, with -an identical "doctrine, worship, and discipline," had a good many -antecedents in common, and a good many others that were peculiar -to each side of the channel. Irish Protestantism had never been a -servile or even a close copy of its English senior. Whether, as -Swift sarcastically maintained, the sermons of Dublin pulpits -were flavored by the soil, or whether the cause of difference lay -in the atmosphere, the Irish variety of "the churches of the -Reformation," was as full of self-complacency and self-assertion, -as any of the sisterhood. It imbibed at the start, chiefly from -Usher, a larger draught of Genevan theology than was quite -reconcilable with the Thirty-nine Articles; it has been almost -invariably toryish in its relations to the state; while the -English establishment, at least since 1668, has been pretty -equally divided between the two great political parties. But the -most singular peculiarity of this very modern church of Ireland -was the persuasion it arrived at, and endeavored to impress upon -the world, that it was the veritable primitive Christianity of -the Green Isle; that instead of tracing its origin to quite -recent acts of parliament, its pedigree ran up nearly to the Acts -of the Apostles; that Saint Patrick and Saint Columba were its -true founders, and not such saints of yesterday as George Browne -and James Usher. Whenever it was necessary to enforce the -collection of tithes, or to protect the monopoly of university -education, the statutes at large were resorted to as the true -charter of its institution; but whenever it became requisite to -defend its anomalous position, by writing or speaking, the -Protestantism of Saint Patrick--his independence of Rome more -especially--was the favorite argument of its defenders. - -No "reformed" community has ever made such desperate and -persistent efforts, with such flimsy or wholly imaginary -materials, to bridge over the long space of the middle ages, in -order to make some show of historical connection with the first -founders of Christianity. But the recent revival of genuine -ecclesiastical learning has utterly dissipated the last fond -efforts of these spiritual genealogists; and the very first acts -of its existence as a separated body, are now as well understood -as the 41st of George III., by which it became a copartner in -"the United Church of England and Ireland," no longer ago than -the first day of the year of our Lord, 1801. - -The history of the Irish member of this curious ecclesiastical -firm may best be traced through the statutes at large. As its -parentage was parliamentary, so its life has been legislative. -There is one advantage in having this description of authority to -refer to, that it cannot be disputed. The "Journals of -Parliament" in England and Ireland, from the reformation to the -civil emancipation of the Catholics in 1829, are good Protestant -authority. The peers and commoners of the old religion were -excluded from the English houses, from the 10th of Elizabeth -(1567) to the 9th of George IV., (1829,) a period of 262 years; -and in Ireland, the last parliament in which Catholics sat was -that of 4th James II., (1689,) followed by a period of exclusion, -before the union, of 111 years. -{202} -It was not found possible, so early as the time of the two first -Stuarts and Elizabeth, to wholly exclude Catholics, or, as they -were then called, "recusants," from membership in either house in -Ireland; and accordingly we find them a formidable minority in -those rarely occurring assemblies, such as the Irish parliaments -held in the 11th and 25th of Elizabeth, the 11th James I., the -14th Charles I., and the 12th of Charles II, In the second -James's short-lived parliament of one session, hastily adjourned -to allow his lords and gentlemen to follow their master to the -banks of the "ill-fated river," they were a majority; but with -that evanescent exception, the statutes of Ireland are quite as -exclusively Protestant authority on all church matters as those -of England previous to the union of the legislatures and the -churches, and subsequently down to 1829. - -The history of Protestantism in Ireland, from first to last, is a -political history. Its best record is to be found in the -parliamentary journals as well in the reign of Henry VIII. as of -George III. And though we do not propose to dwell, in the present -paper, in anything like detail on the annals of that -establishment previous to the present century, we must condense -into a short space the main facts of its first appearance on the -scene, and its early parliamentary nurture and education, to -account for the facility with which it ceased to be, even in -pretence, a national church at the time of the legislative union. -Political in its origin, its organization, and its government, -from the first hour of its existence, it had neither will, nor -wish, nor ability, if it had either, to resist the designs of the -state, which included its incorporation into the imperial system. -As the lay representation of Ireland was recast, as the seal and -the standard were changed, so the institution started by statute -and royal orders in council in the sixteenth century came -naturally to have its individuality extinguished by other -statutes and orders in council in the nineteenth. If this -so-called "Church of Ireland" had really believed itself to be -what its champions had so often asserted, the true and ancient -national church of the kingdom, it would at all events have made -some show of patriotic resistance before making its surrender. - -Not only, however, was it not really national in its origin, but -it was then, and always, an eminently anti-popular institution. -There was not, as in other countries during the reformation, even -the pretext of what is called a popular "movement against Rome." -No Luther had arisen among the Celtic or the Anglo-Irish -Catholics in that age of perturbation. The ancient faith was -received as implicitly by the burgesses of Dublin as by the -clansmen of Connaught, and the spiritual supremacy of the pope -seemed a doctrine as impossible of contradiction to the -descendants of Strongbow as to the children of Milesius. No -internal revolt against Roman discipline or Roman doctrine had -shown itself within the western island. There was no spiritual -insurrection attempted from within to justify the resort to -external intervention. The annalists of Donegal, who are commonly -called "The Four Masters," and who were old enough to remember -the first mention of Protestantism in their own province, thus -unconsciously express the amazement of the educated Irish mind of -those days at the new doctors and doctrines: - -{203} - - "A.D. 1537. A heresy and a new error broke out in England, the - effects of pride, vainglory, avarice, sensual desire, and the - prevalence of a variety of scientific and philosophical - speculations, so that the people of England went into - opposition to the pope and to Rome. At the same time they - followed a variety of opinions, and the old law of Moses, after - the manner of the Jewish people, and they gave the title of - Head of the Church of God to the king. There were enacted by - the king and council new laws and statutes after their own - will." - -But the laws and statutes enacted by the king and council in -England, for changing the national religion, were not immediately -either extended to, or proposed for imitation in, Ireland. The -zeal of the crowned apostle was tempered by the exigencies of the -politician. Before this king's time, the English power in Ireland -had been essentially a colonial power; "a pale" or enclosure, or -garrison. Whoever will not mark the point, will miss the very -pivot of all the operations of the new religion in Ireland. Henry -VIII. had inherited from his father, the first king of united -England for a century, the ambition of making himself equally -master of the neighboring nation. During the twenty years of the -sway of his great cardinal-chancellor, this object never was for -a moment lost sight of. When Wolsey went down to the grave in -disgrace without seeing it fulfilled, his royal pupil continued -to prosecute the plan to its entire accomplishment. This result, -however, he only reached in the thirty-second year of his reign, -(1541,) some six years before his miserable end. Ten years -previously, (1531,) he may be said to have established the new -religion in England by compelling the majority of the clergy to -subscribe to his supremacy in spirituals; within two years -followed his marriage with Anne Boleyn; and in 1535, his order -appeared commanding the omission "of the name of the Bishop of -Rome from every liturgical book," which may be said to have -completed the severance of England from Rome. - -Not only did not Henry, in obedience to his political design of -adding another crown to his dominions, not press his reformed -doctrines immediately upon the Irish of either race, but he -expressly reprehended his deputies at Dublin for having -prematurely attempted the national conversion. In the same year -in which he struck the pope's name from every liturgical book, he -sharply rebuked George Browne, an English ex-Augustinian whom he -had appointed Archbishop of Dublin, for destroying certain relics -of saints in the churches of that city. Again in the same year. -Secretary Cromwell writes officially to contradict "a common -rumor," that he intended to pluck down the statue of "our Lady of -Trim," which was as famous on the west, as our "Lady of -Walsingham" on the east of the channel. Four years later, we find -the Lord Deputy Grey, after a victory over O'Neill at Bellahoe, -halting with the whole court and army at this celebrated place of -pilgrimage, and visiting this same shrine of our Lady--"very -devoutly kneeling before her, he heard three or four masses." At -that moment, in the thirtieth year of Henry VIII., and the sixth -of his open rupture with Rome, any Celtic-Irish or Anglo-Irish -Catholic, in the ranks of Lord Grey, not particularly well -informed as to the affairs of the neighboring kingdom, might have -rested honestly in the belief that he was serving a Catholic -prince in full communion with the rest of Christendom. - -{204} - -But as soon as the election to the kingship, which it is not in -our way here to dwell upon, was successfully over, and the new -royal title proclaimed, confirmed, and acknowledged abroad, -especially in Scotland and France, and by the emperor, then there -came a change. The politician being satisfied, the apostle awoke. -A commission of reformation, at the head of which sat Archbishop -Browne, undertook the purgation of the Dublin and neighboring -churches, producing as their warrant the royal authority, "dated -years before." A sufficient guard of horse and foot accompanied -these commissioners, and were much needed to protect them from -the populace. The statues and relics in the cathedrals of -Leighlin, Ferns, and Kildare; the Lady statue at Trim, and a -famous crucifixion in Ballyhogan Abbey, were forthwith destroyed. -So far and so soon as they could venture into the interior, this -"work, of reformation," under the royal warrant, was pushed on -vigorously, in order, as Henry's commission expressed it, "that -no fooleries of this kind might henceforth for ever be in use in -said land." This royal order (1539) sounded the key-note of -spoliation, and little more than this was attempted during the -remainder of this reign. The first serious effort at national -conversion was made under the orders in council of the 4th of -Edward VI., (1551,) when on Easter day the English liturgy was -for the first time publicly recited in Christ Church Cathedral, -the ex-Augustinian archbishop preaching from the text, "Open mine -eyes, that I may see the wonders of the laws," (Ps. 119.) The -liturgy was printed the same year at Dublin, in English, and the -lord deputy was instructed to take measures to have it -"translated into Irish in those places that need it." The -following year the work of spoliation was resumed with new vigor -at the famous seven churches of Clonmacnoise, and other points -upon the Shannon. Within twelve months thereafter, young Edward -died, and the five years' reign of Queen Mary gave a respite to -the Irish church. It was a period too short for restoration, but -long remembered with regretful affection for the temporary -exemption from persecution it had afforded. - -Anti-national and anti-popular in its conception, the reformation -presented itself in Ireland as the enemy at once of the useful -and all the fine arts; of all that amused and ennobled and -entertained the people. Among both races, war was a business, and -the layman's hand was always within reach of his weapon. The arts -of peace--agriculture, architecture, botany, medicine, music, -were all inmates of the convent and the monastery. The civil -glories and treasures of the country were hoarded up where alone -they could be secured, in the chancel and the cloister. It was, -however, the first duty of the new reformers to strike down and -demolish these venerated remains of the piety of former -generations. Pictures brought from abroad, or the work of native -artists, were defaced; stained windows were brutally broken; -shrines smashed; beautiful missals thrown into the fire; croziers -broken to bits; chalices and ciboriums melted into bullion; bells -blessed to the offices of peace and forgiveness melted down to be -cast into ordnance; and all the endearing, civilizing, and solemn -associations interwoven from childhood with these consecrated -objects of art, were rudely torn out of the bleeding hearts of -the people. In the six remaining years of Henry, and the six of -Edward VI., nearly six hundred religious houses were thus -stripped, desecrated, and dismantled. -{205} -"They sold their roofs and bells," say the Four Masters, in the -annal already quoted, "so there was not a monastery left from the -Arran of the Saints to the Iccian Sea, which was not broken and -shattered, except a few only" in the remoter corners of the -kingdom. Of the regular religious orders then established in that -small kingdom, the rule of St. Augustine was followed by 256 -houses, male and female; that of St. Bernard by 44; of St. -Francis by 114; of St. Dominick by 41; of St. Benedict by 14; of -Mount Carmel by 29. Besides these, it is a pathetic and -instructive circumstance to remember, that there were then, even -in that far western island, not less than 22 houses of Knights of -Saint John of Jerusalem, vowed to the redemption of the Holy -Sepulchre, and 14 of the Trinitarian Order for the redemption of -Christian captives from African slavery. All these, with their -interior furniture and external possessions, were with ruthless -hand transferred to the new clergy, or converted to worldly -purposes, in order to prepare the way of the new religion as set -forth by the king's order. - -It is but fair to point out, that the preachers of this religious -revolution were only in part, though in a very considerable part, -the receivers of the spoils. A new aristocracy arose on the ruins -of the monasteries and churches. Some Irish houses may claim to -have ancestors who came in with Strongbow; but many more founders -of families came in penniless adventurers at the reformation. The -Bagnals and Chichesters, in the north; the St. Legers, Boyles, -and Kings in the south; and the Burkes and Croftons in the west, -were formerly, and some of their descendants still are, the -largest inheritors of ecclesiastical plunder. The chartered -minorities of townsmen, whose consciences consented to take the -oath of supremacy, were not without their recompense even in this -world. The neighboring church and convent property was frequently -assigned to these corporators, no matter how few in number, for -the use indeed of the corporation; but as they generally -contrived to become in their individual capacity tenants under -themselves as a corporation, there was at least one description -of occupants in the country, who held their lands on easy -conditions. These corporate bodies, which continued exclusively -Protestant down to the passage of the Irish Municipal Reform Bill -in 1834, were often reduced to a ludicrously small number; but -even in such Catholic cities as Limerick, Cashel, Clonmel, and -Waterford and Drogheda, they continued to possess and dispose of, -and often to alienate, the former endowments of pious chiefs and -barons to the suppressed convents and colleges of the vicinity. - -The new proprietory and clerical interests thus created at the -expense of the confiscated church, were placed in a position to -require the constant protection and superintendence of the -creative power. And this again required, most unhappily both for -church and state in that country, the continuous proscription and -suppression of those who represented the important interests so -dispossessed and disinherited. From thence arose the deadly feud -between law and nature, which has disfigured and degraded -humanity in Ireland; which has so effectually separated the very -ideas of law and justice in the modern Irishman's mind that his -first presumption in all conflicting cases is (to his own loss -frequently) against the law, rather than in its favor. The body -of legislation of which we speak had long ago swelled to the -dimensions of a code, and since the early years of George III. -has been known exclusively by the name of _The Penal Code_. -{206} -The principal collections of this code are by Sir Henry Parnell, -(afterward Lord Congleton,) Mr. Bedford, an English barrister, -Mr. Mathew O'Conor, of the Irish bar, and the late indefatigable -Dr. R. R. Madden. The commentators on the code, from Edmund Burke -to Bishop Doyle, or rather the advocates for its amelioration in -the first place, and afterward for its total repeal, included -almost every name distinguished for liberality in the British -annals of the last hundred years. - -The first of these proscriptive enactments dates from the 2d year -of Elizabeth, when a parliament representing ten counties was -held at Dublin. By this assembly the acts enforcing uniformity of -worship, and the queen's supremacy in spirituals as well as -temporals, are said to have been passed; though others say this -parliament adjourned without regularly adopting those measures. -In the 3d year of the same reign a further act is found on the -Irish Statute-Book, obliging, under forfeiture of office and -civil disfranchisement for life, "ecclesiastical persons and -officers, judges, justices, mayors, temporal officers, and every -other person who hath the queen's wages, to take the oath of -supremacy." Commissioners of ecclesiastical causes were created -by an act of the same session, "to adjudge heresy" according to -the canonical scriptures, the first four general councils, and -the laws of parliament. By this commission, five years later, -(1564,) the English _Book of Articles_ was declared of full -force in Ireland. These articles were twelve in number. - - "1. The Trinity in Unity; - 2. The Sufficiency of the Scriptures to Salvation; - 3. The Orthodoxy of Particular Churches; - 4. The Necessity of Holy Orders; - 5. The Queen's Supremacy; - 6. Denial of the Pope's authority 'to be more than other Bishops have;' - 7. The Conformity of the Book of Common Prayer to the Scriptures; - 8. The Ministration of Baptism does not depend on the Ceremonial; - 9. Condemns 'Private Masses,' and denies that the Mass can - be a propitiatory Sacrifice for the Dead; - 10. Asserts the Propriety of Communion in Both Kinds; - 11. Utterly disallows Images, Relics, and Pilgrimages; - 12. Requires a General Subscription to the foregoing Articles." - -The subsequent legislation of Elizabeth in Ireland was chiefly -political, if we except (in the 11th and 12th of her reign) the -act respecting vacant benefices, and the act establishing -[Protestant] free schools. - -Parliaments in those days assembled at long and uncertain -intervals. The only one held during the first James's reign in -Ireland--twenty-seven years after Elizabeth's last, and -twenty-one before Charles I. convened another--was purely -political. This parliament was opened and managed by the Lord -Deputy, Wentworth, Earl of Strafford, whose avowed and almost -only object in using such an agency was to make his royal master -"as absolute as any king in Christendom." Four years later, -(1639) was held the second and last Irish parliament of this -reign, and simultaneously, (at the instance, and under the advice -of Laud), the able, iron-nerved, and most unscrupulous deputy -summoned a convocation of the bishops and clergy of the -established religion, which forms a very curious picture of the -state of that establishment at the end of the first century of -the reformation. Strafford himself shall be our authority at this -point, and as abbreviated in Mr. Godkin's -book, pp. 64 and 65. - -{207} - - "He had ordered a convocation of the clergy to meet - simultaneously with the parliament for the purpose of adopting - the Thirty-nine Articles of the Church of England, so that the - Irish articles might become a dead letter. The convocation went - to work conscientiously, digesting the canons, etc., to the - best of their judgment; but Wentworth found that they were not - doing what he wanted, and resolved to bring them to their - senses. In a letter to Laud he chuckled over his victory, - apparently quite unconscious that he had been playing the - tyrant, _circa sacra_, in a style worthy of Henry VIII. - Having learned what the committee of convocation had done, he - instantly sent for Dean Andrews, its chairman, requiring him to - bring the Book of Canons noted in the margin, together with the - draught he was to present that afternoon to the house. This - order he obeyed; 'but,' says the lord deputy, 'when I came to - open the book, and run over the _deliberandums_ in the - margin, I confess I was not so much moved since I came into - Ireland. I told him, certainly not a Dean of Limerick, but an - Ananias, had sat in the chair of that committee; however, sure - I was an Ananias had been there in spirit, if not in body, with - all the fraternities and conventicles of Amsterdam, that I was - ashamed and scandalized with it above measure.' He gave the - dean imperative orders not to report anything until he heard - from him again. He also issued orders to the primate, the - Bishops of Meath, Kilmore, Raphoe, and Derry, together with - Dean Leslie, the prolucutor, and the whole committee, to wait - upon him next morning. He then publicly rebuked them for acting - so unlike churchmen; told them that a few petty clerks had - presumed to make articles of faith, without the privity or - consent of state or bishop, as if they purposed at once 'to - take away all government and order forth of the church. But - those heady and arrogant courses he would not endure, nor would - he suffer them either to be mad in the convocation nor in their - pulpits.' He next gave them strict injunctions as to what the - convocation should do. They were to say content, or not - content, to the Articles of England, for he would not endure - that they should be disputed. He ordered the primate to frame a - canon on the subject; but it did not meet his approval, and so - the lord deputy framed one himself, whereupon his grace came to - him instantly and said he feared the canon would never pass in - such a form as his lordship had made, but he was hopeful it - might pass as he had drawn it himself. He therefore besought - the lord deputy to think a little better of it. The sequel is - best told in Strafford's own vigorous language--'But I confess, - having taken a little jealousy that his proceedings were not - open and free to those ends I had my eye upon, it was too late - now either to persuade or to affright me. I told his lordship I - was resolved to put it to them in those very words, and was - most confident there were not six in the house that would - refuse them, telling him, by the sequel, we should see whether - his lordship or myself better understood their minds in that - point, and by that I would be content to be judged, only for - order's sake I desired his lordship would vote this canon first - in the upper house of convocation, and so voted, then to pass - the question beneath also.' He adds that he enclosed the canon - [Footnote 48] to Dean Leslie, 'which, accordingly, that - afternoon was unanimously voted, first with the bishops, and - then by the rest of the clergy, excepting one man, who simply - did deliberate upon the receiving of the Articles of England.'" - - [Footnote 48: The first Irish canon.] - -We pause and draw a hard breath, after this dictatorial -description of how to rule a church and have a church, to observe -that the Irish Protestant prelates of those days were no mean -men; Bramhall was Bishop of Derry, and Bedell of Kilmore, and the -primate so hectored and overawed by this Cavalier-Cromwell was no -less a personage than James Usher. But being as they were, as -they well knew they were, the creatures of the state, what could -they do when brought into conflict with the author and finisher -of their law? - -Omitting the period of the civil wars and the Cromwellian -Protectorate as a period phenomenal and exceptional, deserving -study apart, we pass to the first parliament of Charles II., -(1662,) in which one of the first contributions to the statutes -which we find, is the renewal of the Elizabethan act of -uniformity. In the same session was passed the acts of settlement -and explanation, which have been called "the Magna Charta of -Irish Protestantism." These acts confirmed to their Puritan -possessors the properties of the Catholic gentry confiscated by -Cromwell for their attachment to both Charleses, and extending -into almost every county. Of 6000 proprietors, so confiscated, -but 60--one per cent--were restored, in part or whole, to their -hereditary estates. - -{208} - -Thirty years later, after William's victory over James II., 4000 -remaining Catholic proprietors were subjected to a similar -proscription--so that in that half-century 10,000 owners of -estates forfeited them for their fidelity to their ancient, and -their hostility to what Mr. Froude correctly calls "the intrusive -religion." - -No parliament sat again in Ireland, till that short one of a -single session before mentioned, (the 4th James II.,) summoned in -1689. This parliament repealed the acts of settlement and -explanation, Poyning's law, and other coercive and intolerant -statutes; but the issue of battle went against King James, and -the two succeeding reigns became fruitful beyond precedent of -penal legislation. Although the 9th of the "Articles of -Limerick"--at the close of the war--had simply imposed one -unobjectionable sentence as an oath of allegiance on the defeated -party, the act (2d and 3d William and Mary) prescribed an -elaborate form of abjuration of the doctrines of -transubstantiation and of the invocation of saints, and declaring -the holy sacrifice of the Mass "superstitious and idolatrous."' -The oath of abjuration concluded by the denial to any foreign -prince or prelate (namely, the pope) of "any jurisdiction, power, -superiority, preeminence, or authority, _ecclesiastical_ or -_spiritual_, within the realm." There never was a more -shameful breach of public faith than this statute. The treaty of -Limerick had simply prescribed this form of oath for the -restoration to their former _status_ of all who chose to -take it: "I, A. B., do solemnly promise and swear that I will be -faithful and bear true allegiance to their majesties King William -and Queen Mary; so help me God." - -And the 10th article of the same treaty had provided: "The oath -to be administered to such Roman Catholics as submit to their -majesties' government, shall be the oath aforesaid and no other." -Yet within the same twelvemonths in which William's generals and -lord-justices signed this latter compact, the new penal law was -passed, and the new oath of abjuration was imposed. In 1691, the -tolerant treaty was signed; in 1692, when the few Catholic peers -and commoners who ventured to present themselves appeared to be -sworn in of the new Irish parliament, they were met by this -infamous oath of abjuration, driven out and disqualified. Above a -million of their broad acres were forfeited, as a further penalty -on those who refused the oath, and we need not be surprised to -find, at King William's death, (1702,) that but "one sixth part" -of the property of the kingdom remained in Catholic hands. - -The 7th and 8th William and Mary re-enacted, with additions, the -Elizabethan penal laws. Of these additions the principal were: - - 1. Authorizing the Protestant chancellor to name guardians for - Catholic minors. - 2. Act to prevent recusants (Catholics) from becoming tutors in - private families, unless by license of the Protestant - ordinaries of their several dioceses. - 3. An act to prevent Roman Catholics acting as - guardians to minor children. - 4. An act to disarm Roman Catholics. - 5. An act for the banishment of popish priests and prelates. - -During the reign of Queen Anne, however, the code received its -last finishing contributions. In the 1st and 2d of this queen was -passed "the act for discouraging the further growth of popery," -of which the following were the principal provisions: - -{209} - - "The third clause provides that if the son of an estated Papist - shall conform to the established religion, the father shall be - incapacitated from selling or mortgaging his estate, or - disposing of any portion of it by will. The fourth clause - prohibits a Papist from being the guardian of his own child; - and orders that, if at any time the child, though ever so - young, pretends to be a Protestant, it shall be taken from its - own father, and placed under the guardianship of the nearest - Protestant relation. The sixth clause renders Papists incapable - of purchasing any manors, tenements, hereditaments, or any - rents or profits arising out of the same, or of holding any - lease of lives, or other lease whatever, for any term exceeding - thirty-one years. And with respect even to such limited leases, - it further enacts that, if a Papist should hold a farm - producing a profit greater than one third of the amount of the - rent, his right to such should immediately cease, and pass over - entirely to the first Protestant who should discover the rate - of profit. The seventh clause prohibits Papists from succeeding - to the properties or estates of their Protestant relations. By - the tenth clause, the estate of a Papist, not having a - Protestant heir, is ordered to be gavelled, or divided in equal - shares between all his children. The sixteenth and - twenty-fourth clauses impose the oath of abjuration, and the - sacramental test, as a qualification for office, and for voting - at elections. The twenty-third clause deprives the Catholics of - Limerick and Galway of the protection secured to them by the - articles of the treaty of Limerick. The twenty-fifth clause - vests in her majesty all advowsons possessed by Papists. - - "A further act was passed, in 1709, imposing additional - penalties. The first clause declares that no Papist shall be - capable of holding an annuity for life. The third provides that - the child of a Papist, on conforming, shall at once receive an - annuity from his father; and that the chancellor shall compel - the father to discover, upon oath, the full value of his - estate, real and personal, and thereupon make an order for the - support of such conforming child or children, and for securing - such a share of the property, after the father's death, as the - court shall think fit. The fourteenth and fifteenth clauses - secure jointures to Popish wives who shall conform. The - sixteenth prohibits a Papist from teaching, even as assistant - to a Protestant master. The eighteenth gives a salary of £30 - per annum to Popish priests who shall conform. The twentieth - provides rewards for the discovery of Popish prelates, priests, - and teachers, according to the following whimsical scale: For - discovering an archbishop, bishop, vicar-general, or other - person, exercising any foreign ecclesiastical jurisdiction, - £50; for discovering each regular clergyman, and each secular - clergyman not registered, £20, and for discovering each Popish - schoolmaster or usher, £10. The twenty-first clause empowers - two justices to summon before them any Papist over eighteen - years of age, and interrogate him when and where he last heard - Mass said, and the names of the persons present, and likewise - touching the residence of any Popish priest or schoolmaster; - and if he refuses to give testimony, subjects him to a fine of - £20, or imprisonment for twelve months. - - "Several other penal laws were enacted by the same parliament, - of which we can only notice one; it excludes Catholics from the - office of sheriff, and from grand juries, and enacts that, in - trials upon any statute for strengthening the Protestant - interest, the plaintiff might challenge a juror for being a - Papist, which challenge the judge was to allow."--_McGee's - Ireland_, vol. ii. pp. 605, 608. - -We may here turn from this repulsive record of tyrannous -legislation to inquire into the consequences of it all at the end -of the second, and once again at the end of the third century, -from the reformation. - -George II. came to the throne in 1727, and bequeathed it to his -successor in 1760. This generation saw, therefore, the close of -the second century of the great Protestant experiment; and if a -centennial celebration had been proposed to them in 1751, the -report of progress made must have included the following -principal facts. - - "We have dispossessed the Catholic proprietors of five sixths - of their property during this last century; we have excluded - them from the bench, the bar, and parliament; we have - prohibited them being guardians or teachers of youth; we have - disfranchised and disarmed their whole body, even their nobles - and gentry; yet as far as the people are concerned, we labor in - vain. There has been lately (1747) a census of the kingdom, and - out of 4,300,000 inhabitants, 3,500,000 are returned as - papists. Even in Ulster they are not supplanted; in Leinster - they are three to one; in Munster, seven to one; in Connaught, - twelve to one. Without property, with few priests, and scarce - any bishops, still doth this perverse generation increase and - multiply. What can we do with them more than we have done to - convince and convert them?" To this searching question some - observer more profound than the others seems to have replied, - "Try education!" - -{210} - -The third centennial celebration of the introduction of the -English liturgy into Ireland--the 51st year of the union of the -two national churches--would have afforded an excellent -opportunity of taking stock, humanly speaking, of the progress -made in a hundred years. But no one thought of suggesting an -appropriate celebration of the great event, and so, unhappily, -the precious opportunity has been lost. We shall endeavor, -however, to supply the want of such a comprehensive retrospect; -and here, for the first time, we find the facts and figures of -Mr. Godkin's book of considerable service to the subject. From -the House of Commons debates of the year 1834, Mr. Godkin gives -the following sketch of the arguments and illustrations used in -support of "the Church Temporalities Act:" - - "Lord John Russell, Lord Howick, and Mr. Sheil, while fully - admitting that an establishment tends to promote religion and - to preserve good order, contended that it ought not to be - maintained where it fails to secure these objects, and that it - must always fail when, as in Ireland, the members of the - Established Church are only a minority of the nation, while the - majority, constituting most of the poorer classes, are thrown - upon the voluntary system for the support of their clergy. - Concurring with Paley in his view of a Church - Establishment--that it should be founded upon utility, that it - should communicate religious knowledge to the masses of the - people, that it should not be debased into a state engine or an - instrument of political power--they demanded whether the Church - of Ireland fulfilled these essential conditions of an - establishment. They asked whether its immense revenues had been - employed in preserving and extending the Protestant faith in - Ireland? In the course of something more than a century it was - stated that its revenues had increased sevenfold, and now - amounted to £800,000 a year. Had its efficiency increased in - the same proportion? Had it even succeeded in keeping its own - small flock within the fold? On the contrary, they adduced - statistics to show a lamentable falling off in their numbers. - For example. Lord John Russell said, 'By Tighe's _History of - Kilkenny_, it appears that the number of Protestant families - in 1731 was 1055, but in 1800 they had been reduced to 941. The - total number of Protestants at the former period was 5238, - while the population of the county, which in 1800 was 108,000, - in 1731 was only 42,108 souls. From Stuart's _History of - Armagh_, we find that sixty years ago the Protestants in - that country were as two to one; now they are as one to three. - In 1733, the Roman Catholics in Kerry were twelve to one - Protestant, and now the former are much more numerous than even - that proportion. In Tullamore, in 1731, there were 64 - Protestants to 613 Roman Catholics; but according to Mason's - parochial survey, in 1818 the Protestants had diminished to - only five, while the Roman Catholics had augmented to 2455. On - the whole, from the best computation he had seen--and he - believed it was not exaggerated one way or the other--the - entire number of Protestants belonging to the Established - Church in Ireland can hardly be stated higher than 750,000; and - of those 400,000 are resident in the ecclesiastical province of - Armagh.'"--pp. 153. - -Now, for the maintenance of this church of 700,000 out of a -population of 7,000,000--this church of a tenth of the -people--there were then and now are held in mortmain of the best -lands of the kingdom, above 600,000 acres. We are told by the -poet: - - "A time there was ere England's woes began - When every rood of ground sustained its man." - -The Irish soil is not so nutritious; still, even there, every -acre stands for a soul saved or to be saved, according to "the -doctrine and discipline" of the united church. -{211} -In addition to the lands and their revenues, there are also -certain supplementary parliamentary grants not to be despised -even by light and worldly-minded persons. Mr. Godkin enumerates, -in his introduction, several of these: - - "It may be desirable to add some more precise information on - that subject. There was a return made to Parliament, dated 24th - July, 1803, and signed by the then Chief Secretary, Mr. - Wickham, who certified that it was made up from the best - materials in the chief secretary's office, and believed to be - nearly accurate. From this return it appears that the number of - parishes in Ireland then was 2436; of benefices, 1120; of - churches, 1001; and of glebe-houses, 355. This represents the - state of the establishment in the year 1791. - - "From 1791 to 1803 the Board of First Fruits granted the sum of - £500, in 88 cases, for the building of churches, making a total - of £44,000. During the same period the Board granted £100 each - for 116 glebe-houses, making a total of £11,600. - - "From a parliamentary return, ordered in 1826, it appears that - within the present century the following amounts have been - voted by parliament up to that date: Gifts for building - churches, £224,946; loans for building churches, £286,572; - total, £511,538, for building churches in twenty-five years. - - "During the same period gifts were made for glebes, £61,484; - gifts for building glebe-houses, £144,734. Loans were granted - for the same purpose amounting to £222,291, making a total for - glebes and glebe-houses of £428,509. Thus, between the year - 1791 and 1826 the Establishment obtained for churches and - glebes the sum of £940,047. The number of glebe-houses in 1826 - was increased to 771, and of benefices to 1396. The number of - cures with non-residence was 286." [Footnote 49] - - [Footnote 49: The following additional figures (from the - _Union_ to the year 1844) are given on page 96: - For building churches,-- £625,371 - For building glebe houses,-- 336,889 - For Protestant charity schools,-- 1,105,588 - For the Society for - Discountenancing Vice, etc.-- 101,991] - -And, on the other hand, the celebrants of the third centenary, if -they had thought of holding one, would have learned from Mr. -Godkin (himself a resolute Protestant of the Unitarian school, -and an ex-reverend) of the alarming increase of popery of late -days even in the very capital of English authority. - - "Indeed, the progress of the Roman Catholic Church in this city - is astonishing, and has no parallel perhaps in any country in - Europe. In 1820, there were in Dublin only ten parochial - chapels, most of them of an humble character and occupying - obscure positions. There were at the same time seven convents - or 'friaries,' as they were then called, and ten nunneries, - which Mr. Wright described as 'religious asylums where the - females of the Roman Catholic religion find shelter when - deprived of the protection of their relatives by the hand of - Providence.' [Footnote 50] Now the loveliest daughters of some - of the most respectable and the best connected Roman Catholic - families leave their happy homes and take the veil, sometimes - bringing with them ample fortunes--devoting themselves to the - work of education and the relief of the poor as 'Sisters of - Mercy,' 'Sisters of Charity,' etc. - - [Footnote 50: Wright's _Dublin_, p. 174.] - - "There are now thirty-two churches and chapels in Dublin and - its vicinity. In the diocese the total number of secular clergy - is 287, and of regulars 125; total priests, 412. The number of - nuns is 1150. Besides the Catholic University, with its ample - staff of professors, there are in the diocese six colleges, - seven superior schools for boys, fourteen superior schools for - ladies, twelve monastic primary schools, forty convent schools, - and 200 lay schools, without including those which are under - the National Board of Education. The Christian Brothers have - 7000 pupils under their instruction, while the schools - connected with the convents in the diocese contain 15,000. - Besides Maynooth, which is amply endowed by the state, and - contains 500 or 600 students, all designed for the priesthood, - there is the College of All Hallows, at Drumcondra, in which - 250 young men are being trained for the foreign mission. The - Roman Catholic charities of the city are varied and numerous. - There are magnificent hospitals, one of which especially--the - Mater Misericordiae--has been not inappropriately called 'the - Palace of the Sick Poor'--numerous orphanages, several widows' - houses, and other refuges for virtuous women; ragged and - industrial schools, night asylums, penitentiaries, - reformatories, institutions for the blind and deaf and dumb; - institutions for relieving the poor at their own houses, and - Christian doctrine fraternities almost innumerable. All these - wonderful organizations of religion and charity are supported - wholly on the voluntary principle, and they have nearly all - sprung into existence within half a century."--p. 94. - -{212} - -Such is the latest presentation of facts in relation to "Ireland -and her churches." Of Mr. Godkin's book (we don't know whether or -not he is still called _Reverend_) we can only say that it -is very fairly intended, and shows great industry in the -accumulation of materials. From some statements in the historical -introduction we most decidedly demur; but the valuable collection -of facts in the second part, under the head "Inspection of -Bishoprics," and the manifest desire to do, and to inculcate the -doing of, justice to men of all churches, throughout the whole -book, must bring in every true friend of Ireland the author's -debtor. - ------ - - Love's Burden. - - - "My burden is light" - - - The Disciple. - - "Dear Lord, how canst thou say - 'Tis light, - When I behold thee on the way - To Calvary's height, - Fainting and falling 'neath its heavy weight? - Ah! no. For me thy burden is too great." - - - The Master. - - "Good child, thou dost mistake - The burden I would have thee take. - The cruel load - That crushed me down on Calvary's road - Was thine, - Not mine. - What lighter burden can there be - Than that which Love would lay on thee?" - - - The Disciple. - - "Kind Lord, how foolish is my speech! - I mark the truth which thou wouldst teach - To my cold heart. - Love all the burden bears of others' woes, - Beyond its might; - But of its own on them it would impose - Only a part, - And makes that light." - --------- - -{213} - - Florence Athern's Trial. - - -The farm-house occupied by the Lees, Henry and Margaret, was an -old-fashioned, plain brick building. It stood at right angles to -a country road which formed a short cut from the turnpike -(leading from the city of C---- to Hamilton, the county-town of -Butler county, Ohio) to the mills down on the Miami, passing -through Mr. Lee's property and by his garden-gate. The house was -some fifteen or twenty feet back from the road, and built one -room deep three sides, with an old-fashioned garret across the -whole of the main building. A wide brick pavement ran from the -gate opening into the road past the front of the house to another -gate opening into a private lane, leading from the barn and -stables, a hundred yards or so back of the house, to a creek some -distance in front, which had been dammed up to afford a -convenient watering-place for the farm cattle; another brick -pavement, not quite so wide, encircled the rear and sides of the -house. A broad gravel walk led from the back hall-door to a gate, -which, with a hedge, separated the grassy yard from the -vegetable-garden, up through that to the barn; another path led -from the front-door down between broad grass-plats of grass, -studded with evergreens and fruit-trees, over a rustic bridge -that spanned a deep ravine, to some stone steps leading down to a -spring, which, with the space around and the hill behind, was -paved with stone, beneath which the water ran a few feet, then -spread out into a creek fringed with willows. On the right of the -path from the bridge to some distance behind the spring was a -cherry orchard; on the left an open knoll bordered with -flower-beds and shrubbery, and occupied in the centre by a rustic -summer-house. - -In front of the farm-house on the edge of the grass-plats was a -row of locust-trees. The parlor was at the end of the house -toward the road and to the right of the hall; to the left of that -was the dining-room; and on the left of that again the kitchen, -not fronting evenly with the rest, but leaving space for a porch -running to the end of the house, into the end of which a door -opened from the dining-room. - -It was Christmas eve, 18--. A lovely, clear moonlight night, -rendered brighter by six or eight inches of snow that had fallen -the day before, and now lay glistening like diamond-dust in the -rays of the full moon. No sound disturbed the silence save the -occasional crackling of a branch or twig among the trees, and one -or two passers-by on horse-back or in wagon, trudging merrily -homeward; for though the railroad had long since made a much -shorter route from the city to the mills and Hamilton, Mr. Lee -had not retracted the permit to pass through his farm, and the -road still remained open. - -The parlor windows gave out a brilliant light from the candles -burning on the mantle-piece and the Christmas tree, that blazed -between them and the wood fire on the old-fashioned hearth. A -group was seated round it. -{214} -Harry Lee, with just a shade of care on his joyous face and a few -threads of silver through his thick brown hair, sat opposite the -front windows at one side of the hearth; at his side, with her -arm resting on his knee, seated on a low ottoman, was a young -girl, his niece, Florence Athern; from the lamp on the table a -little behind her the soft light fell on the masses of golden -hair that covered her well-shaped head, and on the pages of a -richly illustrated book, the leaves of which were held open by a -hand perfect in its size, shape, and texture; and her face, as -she raised it from time to time, in answer to a caressing nod or -motion of her uncle, was very lovely, with a tinge of sadness in -the light of the soft blue eyes and the curve of the sensitive -lips. Opposite these two sat Margaret Lee. Younger than her -brother, but old before her time, her sad face was still -interesting, though it could not be called handsome. At her side -was a younger sister, whose whole attention was given to the -three children seated on the floor in the space before the fire, -eagerly examining the gifts just taken from the Christmas-trees. -Her husband sat on the other side of the table, on which was the -lamp, looking over a book of engravings, and trying, from time to -time, to restrain the uproar made by the juvenile group. Watching -the children while her hands were full of gifts that had fallen -to her share, stood an old colored woman, short and fat, and -dressed in a neat black dress, while on her head she wore a false -front of crinkled black hair and a black lace cap. Her kind old -face beamed with enjoyment at the children's pleasure. - -The room was furnished handsomely and with taste. One or two -portraits and paintings of merit hung on the walls, and over the -mantle-piece was a picture of the Nativity, wreathed with holly, -and before which two wax candles were burning. - -No one heard the step that approached the house; no one saw the -wan but handsome face that was thrust close to the panes for a -few moments. A tall, well-dressed man stood there looking in, -then turned away with a sound like a sob and a sigh and covered -his face with his hands. "It is she, my child, my darling; but I -am not worthy, O God! I am not worthy!" He did not look in again, -but turned and walked down the path leading to the spring, -murmuring, "Fifteen years, and so little change in outward -things. The same trees, the porch, the door-steps, only that -snow-ball and these ailanthuses grown into large bushes, and here -and there a flower-bed where there had been grass; but she--ah! -how has my darling passed these years that have been so dreary to -me?" Just then the kitchen-door opened, flooding the porch floor, -the steps, and portion of the walk with light. One of the workmen -came out, and the stranger drew himself closely behind a -pear-shaped evergreen. "I hope," he thought, "the fellow will not -bring a dog with him. He has a bucket in his hand, and may be -going to the spring; in that case, I have no escape, for the snow -will betray me if I move!" But the man said good-night in a -German accent, and, whistling to the Newfoundland which had come -out with him, and now stood snuffing the air toward where the -stranger was hiding, turned and walked the length of the porch, -down the steps at the end, past the pump and smoke-house, out -through the gate into the back lane, and so up to the barn. "So," -said the stranger, "he has gone to feed the horses for the night, -and I am safe." -{215} -He walked slowly down across the bridge, and stood for a few -moments on the topmost step leading to the spring; then went down -there, and kneeling on the stones at the edge, scooped up some -water in his hand and drank; then rising and brushing the snow -off his clothes, he retraced his steps and once more gazed in at -the parlor window. It happened that the old colored woman had -just picked up the youngest child in her arms, and, followed by -the others, was moving toward the door, her face turned full to -the window, when she made an exclamation and nearly dropped the -child she held. "Why, Tamar," exclaimed Miss Lee, "what's the -matter?" "Oh! nothin'," replied the woman, "spec this colored -pusson gettin' nervus, dat's all. Come long, chicks, to roost." -And she left the room without affording a chance to the group -round the fire to see her face, which bore a frightened look. But -the children, busy with their happy prattle, did not notice it, -neither did the nurse who was waiting for them. As soon as she -had seen them snug in their beds, with stockings duly hung, and -night prayers said, she started to return to the kitchen. Her -mistress heard her, and came into the hall to speak to her, -preceding her through the dining-room and across the space on the -porch between the dining-room and kitchen doors, much to her -satisfaction, to the latter department, to make some necessary -arrangements for breakfast. On Miss Lee's return to the parlor, a -game of whist was proposed, in which the four elders joined, -leaving Florence to the quiet enjoyment of her book. After a -rubber of three games, a motion to retire was made by the -sisters; and Henry Lee, turning to Florence, said, "Well, Puss, -is it not time to give up your book? Half-past eleven, my pet," -(looking at his watch,) "and we must be up early, you know, to be -ready for church, and dinner at Uncle Joe's to-morrow." - -At last the brother and sister were left alone, and stood looking -at one another for a few moments; then Mr. Lee spoke: "It must be -done to-morrow. Who shall do it--you or I?" - -"I think I had better, Harry dear. Women can deal better with -women in such a time, although I know your tender, loving heart, -and do not doubt it." - -"I am glad, Mag, you will take it on yourself, for I feel a very -coward in the matter." - -"Oh! yes, it is better that I should; but I will not tell her -till night--I will not mar the happiness of her Christmas till I -cannot help it." - -"As you will; and now good-night, I must go and see that matters -are all right for the night. You say Anthony has gone up?" - -"Oh! yes, some time ago." - -"Well, good-night!" He left the parlor, and getting a lantern -from the closet under the stairs, lit it, and started to the -barn. - -It had been the custom in this family, since Anna Lee married, -that she and her husband should spend Christmas eve at the old -homestead, and return to their own house in Hamilton, with her -brother, sister, and niece, on Christmas morning. The early Mass -was too early for them to hear it, so the clergyman was willing -to give them the holy communion as soon as they had spent a -sufficient time in preparation on their arrival. After making -their thanksgiving, they adjourned to Mrs. Mohun's house for -breakfast. Then, after High Mass and a Christmas dinner at Mrs. -Mohun's, the two Lees and Florence returned to "The Solitude." - -This programme was carried out as usual on this Christmas day, -and the evening found the three sitting quietly in the parlor -round the fire-place, with no noise of children's prattle to -distract their attention. -{216} -On pretence of letters to write, Mr. Lee left the women alone -with a glance at his sister. No face was flattened against the -windows tonight, though old Tamar refrained from looking toward -them. - -Florence occupied a low seat between her aunt and uncle; and when -the latter left the room, Margaret laid her head gently on the -young girl's shoulder, and drew her toward her, saying: - -"Florence, dearest, your uncle had a letter yesterday from Arthur -Hinsdale. One to you came by the same mail; but on reading that -directed to him, your uncle decided not to give you yours till he -or I had told you something which you must know before you can -answer it. Here are both the letters, dear; you can read them in -your own room when I have finished. You have often asked," she -continued, as Florence took the letters in silence, "to be told -something about your mother and father. To-night I will tell -you." A hardness came into her voice as she spoke that made the -girl look up in surprise. "We lived, till your mother married, in -the northern part of the State of New York, among the mountains, -where people from the city came every summer to spend the hot -months. My father was wealthy, but cared for no life but that of -the country, so we saw nothing of the fashionable world, beyond -the glimpse caught in the summer. My mother was an invalid, and -cared for little beyond her own health; and Anna, who was then a -child ten or twelve years old, your mother, and I did pretty much -as we pleased. Harry was away at college at Fordham, and, when at -home in the vacations, was our constant companion in our rides -and walks. - -"One summer a party of gentlemen from Philadelphia came up to the -Adirondacks to fish. Our farm and house was not far from the spot -where they encamped, and we met them several times in riding. -Your father was among them." Here she paused, as if choking back -some strong feeling, and Florence, slipping on her knees, wound -her arms around her, resting her head against her. "Your mother -was very beautiful," continued Margaret, threading her fingers -through the young girl's golden hair lingeringly, as though she -saw a resemblance that she loved to trace, "and it is not to be -wondered at that she should have attracted attention. After -several accidental meetings, he, your father, took advantage of -some trivial accident, the dropping of Florence's whip, or -something of the kind, to speak when, one day, we came upon them -suddenly. From this it was easy to make an excuse to visit the -farm-house with some of his friends. My father was a man of -cultivation and education, though he chose to bury himself from -the world, and liked the young men. After one or two visits, he -invited them to the house freely, I need not tell you the old, -old story, dear. Before the time came for the visitors to break -up their camp, Paul Athern was engaged to my sister. Florence was -but sixteen; Paul said he was nearly twenty-one; and my father -insisted that they should wait two years, and there was to be no -regular engagement for one year. This was at length agreed to -with great reluctance by, by--your father. He also, being a -Protestant, made all the necessary promises that your mother -should be allowed the full enjoyment of her religion. - -"Well, the winter passed quietly as usual, and toward spring a -cousin of my mother's wrote, inviting us to pay her a visit in -New York. We had once before visited her when I was fourteen and -Florence twelve; so remembering the former pleasure, we were -quite eager to go, Florence particularly seemed anxious. -{217} -Tamar's mother was our cook, and had been my grandfather's slave -before slavery was done away with in New York. Tamar, a girl of -my own age, was our waiting-maid and humble companion and -_confidante_, and was to go with us. After a good deal of -hesitation--for he seemed to feel a presentiment of evil--my -father consented, and we went to New York. Our visit was nearly -over, when, one day, on coming home from a walk with my cousin, I -found Florence in the drawing-room with Paul Athern. She looked -guilty, and blushed when she saw my look of surprise; but Paul -greeted me with great apparent pleasure, and an easy grace that -covered whatever confusion he may have felt. That night, when -alone in our room, Florence said, 'Mag, was I very, very wrong to -let Paul know I was here? I did want to see him so much, dear. -Oh! you _don't_ know how I have craved a sight of his dear -face!' I could not resist her gentle pleading, so did not blame -her very much; but told her I must write to father, it was the -right thing to do and I must do it. The answer to my letter was a -peremptory order for our instant return home. We, or I, had no -idea of disobedience, and so prepared to return at once. The day -before we were to have left, Florence was particularly -affectionate, and seemed not to wish to be left alone. I had some -last errands to attend to, and leaving Tamar and Florence busy -with their packing, went out for two or three hours. I returned -to find the trunks packed, but neither Florence nor Tamar was in -the house. My cousin said Florence kissed her when she went out, -saying laughingly, 'May be you won't see me again.' Tamar went -with her, carrying her satchel. As evening drew on and they did -not return, a great fear came over me, and Cousin Mary had -difficulty in keeping me from rushing into the street to seek for -them. At last, a ring at the door was followed by Tamar's rushing -into the drawing-room. She threw herself at my feet, buried her -face in my lap, and cried as if her heart would break. At last, -when she could speak, Cousin Mary had great trouble to understand -her broken sentences. As for me, I sat stupefied, filled with the -one idea that Tamar had come back without Florence. - - - II. - -"At last the frightened girl's story was made out. Florence had -taken her, on pretence of carrying her bag; but at Union Square, -Paul Athern met them with a carriage, into which they got, and -were taken to a hotel down Broadway, (the Astor House, we -afterward found it was.) Here they were shown into a private -parlor where there was a strange gentleman, who looked, Tamar -said, like the minister at home who preached in the little -country church near us. He bowed to Paul and Florence when they -entered, and then walked over to the farthest window and stood -looking out. Mr. Athern had to talk a long time to Miss Florence -before she was willing to do something that he wanted her to do. -At last he said something that seemed to frighten her, and then -he made a sign to the strange gentleman who went to the door of -another room opening into this, and opened it. Mr. Tremaine, one -of the fishing-party of the previous summer, came in, and before -Tamar knew what they were doing, she heard the strange gentleman -say, 'I pronounce you man and wife!' Then Florence fainted, and -they had great trouble to bring her -to. -{218} -Then they all signed a paper, and the gentlemen shook hands with -_Mr. and Mrs. Athern_, and left them. Paul, after a few -words to Florence, followed them. As soon as they were alone, -Florence threw herself on her knees and cried, 'Oh! what have I -done? what have I done? Tamar, do you think my darling father -will ever forgive me?' She sobbed and cried, but by the time Paul -returned had become quiet. When he came, she asked for paper and -pen, as she wished to write to her father. The letter was given -to Tamar, with a note to me, exonerating the girl from all blame. -Then Mr. Athern said it was time to start to the depot. Florence -turned very pale, but didn't say a word, only got up and began to -put on her things. Mr. Athern turned to Tamar and told her she -was to go home and tell me and Cousin Mary that we would never -see _Miss_ Florence again, but that Mr. and Mrs. Athern -would be happy to see them on their return from their wedding -tour. Then they went to the depot in a carriage, taking Tamar -with them, trusting to her getting safe home after they had left, -which, thanks to a kind Providence, she did. - -"This news threw me into a brain-fever; and when I came to -myself, eight weeks after, I was told how my mother had died of a -heart disease at the shock of Florence's flight; how a letter had -come from Germantown, saying how happy she was if only she knew -her dear father had forgiven her; then another, full of grief at -the death of her mother and my illness; how my father had sold -the old house, and was waiting for my recovery to bury himself -and his griefs in the far west. So the next fall saw us fixed out -here; and Florence was told of the change, and that her father -would never cross the mountains again. My father had not cast her -off, as parents do in novels, but his displeasure and -disappointment were very great, and he let her know it; his -letters, few and seldom, were cold and formal, never again the -fond, loving missives they had been during the short separation -from him in her childhood. More than all, he grieved over the -Protestant marriage; for it was a Presbyterian minister who had -performed the ceremony, and Florence had never mentioned having -had it performed by a priest. One day, the next summer, as I was -sitting at the open door, I saw a carriage drive up to the gate, -and a lady get out; in a moment I knew it was Florence, and -calling Tamar, ran out to meet her, only to receive her fainting -in my arms. Tamar helped to carry her in and lay her on the sofa. -Father had gone to Hamilton; and before he returned, we had got -her up-stairs, and all traces of her arrival done away with. I -waited anxiously for him to come, and wondered how I should tell -him; but my anxiety was useless, for he came in with a small -glove in his hand, and his first question was, 'Where's -Florence?' I had hardly time to tell him, when the door opened, -and Florence herself was at his feet. - -"I left them alone together, and when I returned, he had placed -her on the sofa, and was sitting close to her, holding her hand. - -"It was not till the next day that we asked about her journey, -and then she told her story. - -"Paul had never told his father of his marriage, knowing what -different plans the old gentleman had formed, and weakly putting -off the evil hour, dreading the scene that would follow. He often -told Florence of the urgings his father used to induce him to -marry a young lady of the fashionable world, and laughed as he -compared his 'meadow daisy,' as he called Florence, to the -'hot-house plant,' that was his -father's choice. -{219} -They managed to get along on the handsome allowance his father -made him, and Florence's share of my mother's fortune. One day -the little cottage at Germantown was overshadowed by a stately -carriage, and out of the carriage came an aristocratic-looking -gentleman, who inquired for Mrs. Paul Athern. When Florence -presented herself, her gentle beauty had no effect in melting his -stony heart, for he did his work well. It was Paul's father. He -told her of his plans for Paul, and how he had discovered their -secret at last; and, with a cruelty I cannot understand even now, -informed her quietly that that marriage was null and void; they -both being minors, by the statutes of New York could not contract -legal marriage without consent of parents or guardians. Florence -heard him out, and then rose and said she would wait till her -husband came home to know the truth. 'Your husband, madam, has -taken my advice and gone to New York for a few days, and you will -not have the opportunity of telling him what he knows already, -and knew when, to satisfy you, he went through the mockery of a -marriage.'" The listener tightened her hold on Margaret and hid -her face; her aunt put both arms around her, and continued: "Here -Florence lost all consciousness, and when she came to herself, -she was alone. The afternoon was nearly gone; but she called her -servant, made her help to pack her trunk, then sent her for a -carriage, leaving a note for Paul with the girl in charge of the -house. She drove to Philadelphia, waited quietly at a hotel till -the next morning, then started for the west. - -"My father's anger was fearful, all the more so that he was -powerless. Florence was ill for several weeks after her return, -and even after she recovered she never looked like herself. She -came to us in June; in July came a letter to my father in Paul's -handwriting, which he threw into the fire unopened. In October -you were born, and in six weeks more your poor mother--died." -Here she paused again, and bent her head close to the -golden-tressed one pressed to her breast. "My father lived till -the next fall, but never the same man. Harry came home from -Fordham that summer, and took entire charge of the farm, my -father caring for nothing but to carry you about and watch you. -For two years we heard nothing of your father; and then the -eastern papers were full of a great forgery that had been -committed, and the forger was a son of one of the first families -in the city. Florence, darling, need I tell his name? The trial -proved his guilt, but he managed to escape, and one day we were -surprised by his sudden appearance here. He came without any -announcement, and walked right into the parlor where I was -sitting sewing and Uncle Harry reading, while you were asleep in -your cradle. Before we could recognize him almost, he asked in a -hoarse voice, 'Where is Florence--where, for God's sake, is my -wife?' Then a glance at my black dress and Harry's stern face as -he rose to repel his intrusion, seemed to reveal all, and he sank -on the floor in a deep swoon. - -"We kept his presence in the house a secret from the men on the -farm, and only Tamar knew it; fortunately, the house-girl had -gone to Hamilton for a few days. He was quite wild for a day or -so; and when he came to himself, Harry demanded an explanation, -and he gave it. - -"He had not known of his father's visit to Germantown till he -returned from New York, where he had gone that day at his -father's request, having written a letter to that effect to -Florence, which must have reached the house very soon after she -left it. -{220} -He was kept in New York on some pretext or another for three or -four weeks. His letters to Florence, of course, never reached -her, and on his return home he was told by his father that he -'had seen his pretty plaything, and told her some home truths.' A -fearful scene followed, when he left his father's house, swearing -never to set foot in it again, and that he would be revenged. He -did not know that the marriage was illegal, as he was under the -impression that he was twenty-one, till his father showed him the -record, and then he found his mistake; and, as of course he knew -that no Catholic clergyman would perform the ceremony, the Rev. -Mr. Bell was the only one who could be found to do it. He had -searched for Florence, and written to her father; but, as I knew -too well, had received no answer. His allowance being stopped, he -suddenly found himself without a penny, and no business or -business habits; so he could not come out here to us, and -gradually sought forgetfulness in dissipation. At last, by the -treachery of a friend, himself the guilty one, he was proved a -forger so skilfully that there was no getting over it. He swore -solemnly that he was innocent, and felt sure his innocence would -one day be proved. He did not stay long, being anxious to get out -of the country and the clutches of the law. You were a great -comfort to him, dear, during his short stay, but he had to leave -you. In fifteen years, Florence, we have heard or seen nothing of -him, and his guilt is still believed by those who have not -forgotten the circumstances. Now, my darling, you know why I told -you this ere your uncle gave you Arthur Hinsdale's letter." The -young girl made no answer save a shiver that ran through her -frame as she clung closer to her aunt. For a full hour they sat -thus in silence; then Harry Lee came into the room. Florence rose -to her feet and would have fallen, had her uncle not caught her -in his arms, and tenderly, as if she had been a baby, he lifted -her, and carried her up to her bed-room. Margaret followed, and -tenderly prepared the broken-hearted girl for bed. The letters -lay unheeded on the parlor floor. - - - III. - -All through the night Margaret Lee sat by her niece's bed-side, -praying for strength for her darling, and watching the fitful -slumbers and soothing the sad awakenings. And in the silent -watches of the night arose the long-buried ghost of her own -life's happiness, and kept guard beside her. There was an episode -in the sad story she told her niece that was never -mentioned--that she had not allowed herself to think of for many -a long year; but to-night memory will not be silenced, and she -brings up, once more, the pleasant days when young Tremaine -whispered into her ear the same story which Paul told Florence, -and the fearful crushing of all her hopes of happiness, when her -father forbade her ever to see or speak to him again, his anger -was so great against him for having assisted Paul. Margaret -submitted quietly, as such natures do; but she never cared for -anything afterward beyond doing her strict duty--cheerfully and -heartily; but never joyously. Perhaps the old man repented when -it was too late; for in two years after, they heard Tremaine was -married, and he was -very tender to her then. -{221} -On his death-bed he drew her to him, and, asking her forgiveness -if he had made her suffer, blessed her for the fondest love and -gentlest tending that ever parent had from child. In that hour -Margaret felt repaid for all that had gone before. So, through -the long watches of the night, came up the memories of the long -ago, and Margaret lived over again the dead joys and sorrows. -Toward morning Florence slept quietly, and her watcher threw -herself on the bed beside her, and soon fell into a deep sleep. -When she awoke, the sun had risen, and on glancing at Florence, -she found her lying quietly awake. - -"Aunt Margaret," said the young girl, "that--that--letter. I know -what he wrote, and it is not necessary to tell him, is it?" - -"Only under certain circumstances, my darling; your own heart -will tell you what." - -"Oh! yes, auntie; but that can never be. I can tell him that, and -nothing more." - -"My poor, dear child, have you not faith enough? do you not think -his love for you is strong enough to live through this trial?" - -"Yes, oh! yes! But would it be right to inflict the trial on him? -I think not; I think the burden is mine alone, and I alone must -bear it!" - -"God grant you strength to do so, my precious one! If I could -have spared you the suffering, how gladly would I have done it!" - -"I know that, auntie, dear. Do you think I do not feel and -appreciate the years of care and tender love I have had from you -and Uncle Harry? I was as happy as any one could be -before--before--and I can and will be happy with you still." - -"God bless you, dearest!" was Margaret's answer, as she pressed a -kiss on her forehead and left the room. - -As soon as she was alone, Florence turned the key in her door; -then, throwing a dressing-gown around her, fell on her knees -before a beautiful engraving of the Mater Dolorosa, which hung -over a _prie-dieu_ at the side of her bed. Long she knelt -there, her golden hair falling in dishevelled masses over her -shoulders, and nearly touching the floor as she knelt. At first -there was no sound, but presently her slight frame was convulsed -with suppressed weeping that soon found voice in sobs. At last -she rose, and began to dress, ever and anon pressing her hands to -her head or heart to still their aching. When she was ready to go -downstairs, she again knelt before the picture, and prayed for -strength to bear her cross, so that not even the shadow of it -should fall on those whose tenderness and love had been her -shield in the years that had gone. - -And then she went down and greeted her uncle with a brave attempt -at her usual manner; she neglected nothing that she had been -accustomed to do, none of the little services she had been in the -habit of rendering; and, but for the sadness that no strength of -will could drive from her face, and the silence of the bird-like -voice that before made music through the house the whole day -long, a casual observer would not have guessed at the sufferings -of the previous night. - -On going into the parlor, she saw the letters where she had -dropped them the night before, and the sight of them sent a cold -thrill of pain to her heart; but she picked them up and put them -in her pocket. After going through the house as usual, she locked -herself up in her room once more, to read the letters. Arthur -Hinsdale's to herself was, as she anticipated, a declaration of -affection; that to her uncle, written the day after, expressed a -hope that he would support his cause if it needed it. -{222} -And how were they to be answered? Florence paused long in painful -thought on the subject, but felt too utterly miserable to come to -any conclusion. So the day passed sadly, and so the night and the -next day. On the third day Florence felt that some answer must be -given and written before another night went by, and set herself -to her painful task. Having completed it, she brought the letter -down with her into the parlor, and sat down to some pretence of -employment that kept her hands busy, though her mind was far off. -Presently she heard the galloping of a horse in the lane, and in -a few moments a knock at the front-door. The blinds were down -over the front windows, so she had not seen any one pass, and, -rising, she tried to make her escape before the visitor was -admitted. But she was too late. As she opened the parlor door, -the front-door was opened from without by her uncle, and she -stood face to face with Arthur Hinsdale. The hearty greeting he -had met with from Mr. Lee had reassured the young man, and he was -not prepared for the frightened look and deadly pallor that -overspread Florence's face when she saw him. She stepped back -into the parlor, and held out her hand with a desperate attempt -to smile. Arthur took the hand and pressed it to his lips. Mr. -Lee had closed the parlor door, and she was alone with him. With -a desperate effort she commanded her voice enough to make some -commonplace remark about his journey, signing him to a chair, -while she seated herself. - -"I ventured to come, although I had received no answer to my -letter. Did you receive it?" - -Florence inclined her head. - -"Then you knew the reason of my coming?" - -Again Florence bowed, but could not speak. - -"Miss Athern, was not my letter plain enough--do you not believe -me? I do not understand your silence." - -"Your--your letter was fully understood, Mr. Hinsdale, and I -thank--" - -"You thank me, Florence!" - -Then in earnest language he told her how he loved her, and how -his fear that his letter had not reached her had brought him -there, preferring the pain of a double refusal to the doubt in -which he must have awaited her reply by post. To all this -Florence listened with head bent down and hands clasped; and when -he paused for a reply, she pointed to the letter lying on the -table. He took it up and walked to the window; a painful silence -followed, broken only by the rustling of the paper in his hands. -When he had finished reading, he came to her side, and leaning -over her said: - -"Am I to receive this as your answer?" - -"Yes!" said Florence in a whisper. - -"A final and decisive answer?" - -"Yes!" - -"Then pardon me. Miss Athern, that I allowed my heart to read -your conduct as I hoped it was meant, not as you really meant it. -I gave you credit for a nobler heart than you possess. Let me -tell you the truth, though what I say seems a reproach, that -offer would never have been made had I not felt assured, by your -treatment of me, that it would be accepted." - -Florence started, and the eloquent blood rushed to her very -temples. - -"Mr. Hinsdale, you have no right to speak thus to me!" - -She attempted to draw her hands from his grasp, but could not. - -"No right!--well, perhaps I have not. Forgive me, Florence, and -only remember that I love you." - -{223} - -He still held her hands and tried to look into her face, but she -bent her head away from him. - -"I love you, Florence, and I feel that I am entitled to a little -more consideration than that letter shows, Florence, will you be -my wife?" - -A low but distinct "No," was the answer. - -"Do you mean you do not love me?" - -She made no answer, and he dropped or rather flung her hands from -him and started to his feet. - -"Strange, unfeeling! O fool, fool that I was! to build my -happiness on such a crumbling base; to be caught in the net of a -false woman's beauty, the smiles of a vain coquette!" - -"Arthur, Arthur! you will break my heart!" - -She had risen and was standing with one hand resting on the back -of a chair, the other pressed to her head. He made a motion to -approach her, but she put out her hand with a sign to stop him. - -"Now listen to me. I am no false woman, no vain coquette. Until -the night I received your letter, I knew no reason why I should -not--not--" She hesitated a moment. "I knew no reason why I -should not have answered it according to the dictates of my -heart; but that night a story of a life was told me that--that -changed my whole existence. It is a heavy burden to bear." - -"But not, dearest, if I can help you bear it." He would have -taken her hand, but she drew back from him, "You cannot, no one -can--O God! help me, my heart is broken!" She threw her arms up -over her head, and would have fallen had he not caught her. She -had not fainted, though for a moment she thought death had come -to her relief; and almost in a moment released herself from his -arms, and said sadly: "I hoped to have spared us both this -misery; but it was God's will that we should not escape it. For -myself, a little more does not matter; but for you--O Arthur! -forgive me the pain I have made you suffer, and remember my own -cross is as heavy as I can bear. Good-by!" She held out her -hand--"good-by! You cannot return home to-day, it is too late; but -you must excuse me, I will send uncle." - -"Florence! I am not going to remain if this is your answer. Do -you think I could break bread or sleep under your roof after what -has passed? Heavens! do you think I'm a stick or a stone?" - -"As you will!" she said wearily, "I cannot help it!" - -"Then I will take my leave." He was going; but as he laid his -hand on the door-knob, he glanced at her, and the expression of -heart-broken misery in the sweet face overcame his injured -feelings, and he turned and took her hand. "Forgive me, Florence; -I have been rude and unfeeling--selfish in my great -disappointment. Forgive me, darling; remember my love is strong -enough to bear the heaviest burden _you_ could lay upon it, -if your own strength fails, Good-by and God bless you." He raised -her hand to his lips, and in another moment was gone. - -Every day Florence strove manfully with her trouble, and every -night her prayers were said before the _Mater Dolorosa_, for -strength to bear with silent patience the sorrow her loving -friends could not cure. But her face grew pale and wan, her form -more slight and delicate, till her aunt, in alarm, proposed a -change of scene. It was in the early spring, and Margaret Lee -proposed a tour through the eastern cities; but Florence begged -so hard not to be taken to New York or Philadelphia that the idea -was given up. -{224} -At last they determined to go direct to Boston, and sail thence -for Liverpool. This plan was carried out in June, leaving the -farm in charge of the overseer, and the house to Tamar. - -To a mind like Florence's, imbued with a loving reverence for all -connected with the church, filled with a love for the beautiful -and grand, and a heart ready to receive their impressions; with -an intellect of no common order, and a quick appreciation of the -good and noble, a tour through Europe, particularly Spain, -France, and Italy, had many charms, and could not but awake an -interest that surprised herself. When they settled at Rome for -the winter, they had the satisfaction of a decided change for the -better in Florence's appearance. - -But she had not forgotten; she was only glad that returning -strength of body enabled her to hide more effectually the anguish -and heart-sick yearning that sometimes seemed unbearable. Several -letters came from Arthur Hinsdale during the first year; but -Florence returned the same answer to all; and at last the young -man desisted. Three years were passed in idling from one point of -interest to another, when the tocsin of civil war in the United -States waked up the nations, and called the country's loyal -children from far and wide to her assistance. - -Once more the scene is laid at "The Solitude;" but this time the -earth is not clothed in winter's snowy mantle. Hid in the wealth -of foliage the trees are wearing, the birds are singing their -vesper hymns, the sun is just sinking behind the woods, and -throws his last rays over a group seated on the grass near the -slope into the ravine. - -Henry Lee is there, and Margaret and Annie and her children; but -Mr. Mohun is down in Tennessee with Rosecrans, and the wife's -brow wears an expression of anxiety, as she watches her children, -that was a stranger to it when we last saw her. Florence, too, is -there, looking very well, people say; but there is an indefinable -change that those nearest her feel, though they cannot say where -or in what it lies. One or two young ladies are added to the -group, and a young gentleman, whose shoulder-straps show his rank -as second lieutenant, while the foot still bound up and the -crutches lying near, show cause for his presence on the scene. He -is William Mohun, a younger brother of Annie's husband, and was -wounded in the siege of Vicksburg. What he is saying now must be -listened to. - -"I wish you knew our colonel, Mr. Lee; for a braver, nobler, -kinder-hearted man never lived. He led a charge at Vicksburg, and -exposed himself unsparingly; indeed, he seemed to court death; -yet when he could help a wounded man, he was as gentle as a -woman. O Miss Florence! a friend of yours is the regimental -surgeon--Arthur Hinsdale, don't you remember him?" - -"Oh! yes," replied Florence, with wonderful self-command. - -"He, too," continued the young man, "deserves the thanks of the -nation; for I never saw such devotion to the wounded and dying. -Poor Warrington! hope he is not seriously wounded, for he will be -a great loss to us; and I hope Hinsdale is with him, for then I -know he will be well cared for." - -"See, is there any mention of Joe's regiment. Will?" asked his -sister-in-law; and the young man referred to the paper in whose -columns he had seen the wounding of his colonel--Warrington. -Florence rose quietly and went into the house; the old -Newfoundland, who had been lying beside her, got up and walked at -her side in stately satisfaction, ever and anon thrusting his -cold nose into her hand in token of sympathy. -{225} -When Florence returned, there were traces of tears in her eyes; -but her face wore an expression of loving gratification her aunt -understood well. - -A month and more has passed, and October began to touch, with her -changing pencil, the trees and shrubs. The air was hazy and -balmy, and the sun still warm; so the family at "The Solitude" -spent many of their evenings in the open air. William Mohun was -gone back to duty, and the young lady friends were again at home. -Florence and her two aunts were busy over comforts for the -soldiers, to help them through the weary winter with the thought -that loving hearts at home had not forgotten them. One evening -Florence had been down to the spring, and, lured by the lovely -evening, seated herself in the summer-house on the knoll above -it, with a book. She did not hear a carriage which approached the -house from the direction of Hamilton, nor did she see the two -gentlemen who alighted from it. Mr. Lee received Arthur Hinsdale -and his companion with cordial welcome, though surprised at the -sudden arrival, and wondering at Arthur's eager, excited manner. -He greeted Henry and Margaret warmly, but asked instantly for -Florence. They told him where she was, and the young man, instead -of crossing the bridge, which would have apprised her of his -coming, passed with a swift foot down the lane, and, springing -over the fence among the cherry-trees, down the slope, across the -path, was in the summer-house almost before Florence saw him. - -"Florence, my darling, our trial is at an end. My precious one, I -know your secret now. Cruel! that you doubted me. Could you not -feel that nothing could change my love?" - -He had taken her hands in his, and held them, looking down into -her sweet face while he spoke, Florence looked at him in -bewilderment; then, with a sobbing, convulsive movement of her -lips, almost fainted. - -Meanwhile the gentleman, whom Arthur had introduced as Colonel -Warrington, followed Henry and Margaret into the parlor by the -door that opened at the end of the house toward the gate. When -they entered and Margaret turned to offer him a chair, she saw he -was deadly pale, and was glancing round the room as if it -recalled something painful. At the same moment a veil dropped -from Margaret's eyes. She walked up to him, and, laying her hand -on his arm, said, "Paul Athern, in heaven's name speak." - -"Paul Athern?" said Henry Lee, with a start of surprise. - -"Yes," replied the colonel sadly, "I am Paul Athern. God bless -you for the care you have taken of my darling. I can see her now -without fear. Henry Lee, I can offer you my hand, and you, an -honest man, can take it without hesitation." - -Henry Lee grasped the hand extended to him warmly, saying, "I -never thought anything else, Athern, after the interview we had; -but I rejoice that you are relieved from your painful situation -and are living to enjoy the change. We began to fear you had -died. Tell us all about it; for Florence and Arthur will not join -us yet." - -Then Paul Athern told how he had gone from "The Solitude" to New -Orleans with a firm purpose to win fortune and a fame that would -enable him to present himself before Florence in his true -relationship. He worked hard and steadily, and gained the -confidence of his employers to such an extent that they took him -into partnership, and then he came to Ohio to see his child. -{226} -But the stain was not removed from his name, and he shrank from -the meeting at the last, as much as at first he had longed for -it. He rode out to "The Solitude" on Christmas eve, and took a -peep at the family group through the window, and had gone again -without the consolation of hearing Florence speak. He told them -how, in looking in at the window the second time, he feared Tamar -had seen him, and he had hurried out to his horse and ridden away -quickly. So he went back with only the crumb of comfort that -stolen look afforded to his starving heart. When the war broke -out, he withdrew from business with a comfortable fortune, and -returned to C----, raised a company for the ---- regiment, and -rose to the rank of colonel. During his stay in C----, the family -were still in Europe; but he came out to "The Solitude," and had -a long talk with Tamar. Then came the wound that had prostrated -him and put him into Arthur Hinsdale's hands; during the ravings -of the fever he had mentioned names and revealed enough to arouse -Arthur's interest and curiosity. As soon as he was well enough, -the young man asked for an explanation, first telling why he -asked it. Paul told him all, and his story only bound the young -surgeon more closely to him. The colonel then paid a glowing -tribute to the kindness and care he had received from Arthur, and -to his general interest in and treatment of the wounded men. He -watched till Paul was well enough to travel, and then obtaining a -leave of absence for both from the commanding general, started -home. At first Paul refused to accompany Arthur; but one day a -wounded officer was brought in and laid on the bed next to the -one occupied by him. Arthur made a sign to Paul to help him to -remove the man's clothes; he stooped over him to unbutton his -coat, when the man opened his eyes, and, after looking round with -a startled gaze, fixed them on Paul with a frightened stare. Paul -looked and recognized the man who had blighted his whole -existence. A fierce struggle arose in his breast, and his fingers -ceased their work, while he turned away with a look of disgust -and dislike. Arthur looked up at him with surprise, and just then -the man made a desperate effort and put out his hand, saying -faintly: - -"Athern, forgive--here--I have it--all here." - -And his hand fluttered toward his heart, then fell, and his eyes -sought Paul's with agonized entreaty. It was a hard struggle; but -the better angel conquered, and Paul took the hand and said: - -"I do forgive you, Brooks, as I hope to be forgiven." - -A smile passed over the man's face; he moved his head slightly -and was dead. In his breast-pocket were two packages, one -addressed to Paul's father, the other to an influential gentleman -in Philadelphia. The latter was mailed duly, and the former, -Paul, his father being dead, opened. It contained a full -acknowledgment of having committed the forgery for which Paul -suffered, and an explanation of how it was managed. This -determined him at once to return to his wife's family. Meantime -the same story had been told in different words in the -summer-house down by the spring, and it took so long in the -telling that it was almost dark when Margaret, going to call her -niece, saw them rise and approach the house, Florence, with a -bright look of happiness her face had not worn for years, leaning -on Arthur's arm. She hastened with trembling footsteps to the -parlor, at the door of which Arthur left her, and in another -moment she was clasped in her father's arms. - -{227} - -A gay wedding-party is assembled, when the spring once more puts -on her robes of ferial green, in the parlor of "The Solitude." -All brides look lovely, they say; but certainly May never smiled -on a lovelier one than Florence Athern. Arthur Hinsdale certainly -seemed to think so, for he looked at her with reverence mingled -with his deep love, as though she were a spirit dropped from the -skies. The venerable and dearly loved and honored archbishop is -there, and has blessed the new ties; and the bride was given away -by that tall, handsome man in brigadier-general's uniform, with -one arm in a sling yet, at whose side is the noble form of Henry -Lee, while Margaret moves about through the company with her -usual quiet grace, and Tamar's face is filled with satisfaction -at her young mistress' joy, as she looks in at the door. - ---------- - - Sayings Of The Fathers Of The Desert. - - -A brother asked Abbot Antony to pray for him. The old man -responded: "Neither I can pity thee nor can God, unless thou -shalt have been anxious about thyself, and prayed to God." - -Abbot Antony again said: "God doth not allow wars to arise in -this generation, because he knoweth they are weak and unable to -bear them." - -Abbot Agathi said: "If a man of wrathful spirit should raise the -dead to life, he would not be pleasing to God because of his -wrath." - -Abbot Pastor said: "Teach thy heart, to observe what thy tongue -teacheth others." Again, he said: "Men wish to appear adepts in -speaking; but in carrying out those things of which they speak, -they are found wanting." - -Abbot Macarius said: "If we remember the evils done to us by men, -we shall deprive our soul of the power to remember God; but if we -call to mind those evils which the demons raise against us, we -shall be invulnerable." - -Abbot Pastor said of Abbot John the Small that, having prayed to -God, all his passions had been taken away, and, thus made proof, -he came to a certain old man and said: "Behold a man freed from -passion, and compelled to battle with no temptations." And the -old man replied: "Go, pray the Lord that he command thee to be -tempted, for the soul grows perfect by temptation." And when -temptations came back upon him, he no longer prayed to be freed -from them, but said, "Lord, give me patience to bear with these -temptations." - -Abbot Daniel used to say: "The stronger the body the weaker the -soul; and the weaker the body the stronger the soul." - ----------- - -{228} - - - Popular Education. [Footnote 51] - - [Footnote 51: _Report of the Rev. James Fraser. - Blackwood's Magazine_, Jan. 1868.] - - -At no period of the world's history have nations and their -governments seemed to be in such a feverish state of uncertainty -and apprehension. From all quarters of Christendom we hear the -cry of change. The last vestiges of the ancient order are -disappearing. The rule of caste is everywhere confronted by -self-asserting populations, who are no longer willing to bear the -patient yoke of servitude, even though consecrated by the -traditions of centuries. Russia has abolished her serfdom, so -long and so deeply rooted in her soil; and the more advanced -nations of Europe, whilst yet retaining their accustomed forms of -government, are heaving with the volcanic fires of revolution. We -speak not of violent revolution, mainly; but of that other more -radical and enduring change, which is the inevitable result of -the wonderful mechanical inventions of this age. It is simply -impossible in the dread presence of steam and the electric cable, -for nations to continue to be what the Greek republics and the -Roman empire were, or what mediaeval Europe was, centuries ago. -The Christian world is now, for all great practical purposes, one -nation. Even that "_despotism tempered by assassination_" is -not now the thing that Talleyrand described in his witty -aphorism; for the Czar himself bows to the censure of the world. -Napoleon prosecutes the Parisian editors, and sends them to -prison; but it avails nothing toward the suppression of the power -of opinion. He, to-day, has greater fear of the sentiment of -France, than ever his terrible uncle felt for the combined armies -of Europe. In England, the House of Peers has become a gloomy -pageant, and the Commons, under the new Reform Bill, will -henceforth represent, not the gentry, nor even the moneyed lords -of the loom, but the toiling millions of Great Britain. In a -word, power is passing from the few to the many, from the -hereditary rulers to the multitude. We have nothing to do, in -this article, with the merits of this vast revolution, as to the -manner of change, its good or evil, its probable success or -failure. We accept it as a fact, and propose to deal with it as -such. It is very possible that all this would have occurred if -America had never been discovered; but it is absolutely certain -that the achievements of Christopher Columbus and George -Washington have been the chief, immediate causes of its rapid -consummation. When a Bourbon king, to gratify the traditional -policy and animosities of his house, sent his fleets and armies -to help the glorious work of building up the independence of this -people, little did either he or his enraged and maniac foe, King -George, imagine what the end of it all would be! Little did they -dream that this land would, in ninety years, contain thirty -millions of men of European blood, and that the whole European -population would learn new principles, catch new inspirations, -and be filled with new longings, new hopes, and stern resolves by -intercourse with this young republic. Those pampered kings could -not foresee the advent of steam-ships and the telegraph! -{229} -They could not foretell the power of emigration--how it would -people a continent, build up its commerce, fortify it with the -materials for armies and navies, ready to be called into -existence more magically than the palace of Aladdin, and, above -and beyond all, how its sweeping currents of democratic ideas -would rush back upon the father-lands everywhere, washing away -the old dikes of royalty and caste, and floating the populations -over the battlements of feudal castles, musket in hand, and with -loud cries for "change;" that is, for the all-essential change -which shall see that governments be henceforth established and -conducted for the benefit for the governed, and not that the -governed shall be held, as they have been for many thousand years -heretofore, as the property of the ruler, existing solely for his -glory and profit. Europe sends her millions hither, and they in -turn send back by every ship to those they left behind, the -wonderful record of what they see here; and these inspiring -testimonies are read at the firesides of ten thousand hamlets by -kindred men whose awakening intelligence and energies are -stirring the foundations of European society and shaking all -thrones to inevitable ruin, unless they speedily plant themselves -on more solid ground than the _divine right of kings_. It is -now very certain that no government anywhere can be said to rest -on a sure basis, unless it stand upon the love and confidence of -the people. Any other basis is the lawful prey of time and -fortune, and will go with the opportunity that may arise for its -destruction. - -Now, if these be facts with which we have to deal, then a very -grave question meets us right here, and it is this: Can any such -solid foundation for government be found in a self-governing -community? In other words, can the people govern themselves for -their own weal, and maintain institutions _solely by the force -of their own will_, which shall accomplish the purposes of -good government, and for ever secure the approval of all wise and -virtuous citizens? If nay, then, royalty and aristocracy being -repudiated, whither shall we fly for refuge and hope? If yea, -then how is this most precious end to be attained? We Americans, -by birth and blood, and still more so by passionate love of -country, say most emphatically that we have never doubted that -the way to such a consummation is plain, if only the nation will -pursue it. It is nothing new; simply the old and trite aphorism, -that a free, self-governing nation can only be so upon the -conditions precedent of a clear intelligence and a -well-established virtue; the latter (if we may separate the two) -must always take precedence, and be regarded as the indispensable -prerequisite. It follows, therefore, that education without -morality would be at least futile. It is very certain that it -would be absolutely _fatal_; because the intelligent man of -vice is armed with keen weapons, which are greatly blunted by -ignorance, and are consequently then less dangerous to society. -Catiline, the polished patrician, was a greater object of alarm -to Cicero and the Roman senate than the rude assassins whom he -had hired to do his treason. Before and during the first French -revolution, France was ablaze with genius; but, like the high -intelligence of the "Archangel ruined," it brought death in its -fiery track. Education without morality is more terrible than the -sword in the hands of men or a nation. It is not the part of -patriotism to deny that we have seen some instances of this in -our own favored country, and that the tendency to that perilous -condition is very apparent even now. -{230} -This has resulted from the too prevalent idea, taught by the -infidel or indifferent press, and accepted by the unreflecting or -equally indifferent citizen, that morality can be maintained -without formal or doctrinal religion; that one morality is as -good as another; that Plato would answer as well as Christ; that -what even the pagans taught--to deal honestly by your neighbor -and perform the domestic and public duties of life with -reasonable decency--is quite sufficient; and that all else is -nothing more than priestly dogmatism and controversial jargon. So -that, indeed, the prevailing opinion of the country would almost -seem to be (if we judge it by the secular press and multitudes of -very honest and intelligent citizens) that America, as a -Christian democratic nation, may be satisfied to be as moral, and -consequently as grand and powerful, as was pagan Rome in the days -of her republican simplicity of manners. They forget or ignore -the history of the _Decline and Fall_, and fail to see in -that tremendous catastrophe of the most extraordinary people of -the ancient world, the logical development of the certain causes -of destruction which were inherent in the nation from the day -that Romulus slew his brother upon the wall of the rising city. -It cannot be that Christ came for a delusion and a snare, or even -as a simple fatuity. If his coming was necessary, then it was to -teach a new religion and a new morality; _the one inseparable -from the other_. If this be indisputable, then all education -which is not based expressly and clearly upon religion is -heathenish, and will prove destructive in the end. It will -destroy the very people whom it was expected to save. It will -consume them as a fire. Pride and lust of power will burn out the -public conscience. The nation will drip with the blood of -unjustifiable conquest, as did pagan Rome, or be given up to the -ferocious struggle for individual aggrandizement, as seen in -later revolutionary times. The father of our country fully -recognized these principles, and in the foregoing we have but -echoed his words of warning in his Farewell Address to the -American People: - - "Of all dispositions and habits," he says, "which lead to - political prosperity, religion and morality are indispensable - supports. A volume could not trace all their connection with - private and public felicity. Let it simply be asked, Where is - the security for property, for regulation, for life, if the - sense of religious obligation desert the oaths which are the - instruments in courts of justice? And let us with caution - indulge the supposition that morality can be maintained without - religion." - -To this it will be replied, by some well-meaning persons, "How -can we place education in the United States upon the basis of -doctrinal religion, when we have innumerable sects, none of which -absolutely agree?" And now we approach the marrow of the subject. - -First, let us clear away one difficulty. Let it be very -distinctly comprehended that nowhere can the state find its -commission as exclusive educator of the people. That is a duty -and a privilege belonging, of original right, to the family; it -is domestical and not political, though it may be always, and is -most frequently, wise and politic that the state should lend -efficient aid to _assist_, but not _arbitrarily to -control_ the training of the free citizen's child. The parent -is placed over the child by the Creator, and is the natural -guardian, primarily responsible for the training which is to lead -through this valley of probation to the eternal home. -{231} -Religious freedom, freedom of conscience, is not a right granted -by constitutions, but is the result of the relation of man as a -free, moral agent to the Creator who thought fit to make him the -master of his own destiny here and hereafter. To coerce the -conscience of the child by an educational system, actively or -passively, (for there may be effective coercion by negative -means,) is to violate the sacred rights of the parent, vested in -him by the divine appointment. There is not a religious man, -following any form of worship, professing to be a Christian and -an American, who can seriously deny this proposition, or who -would accept any other in a question involving his rights and -duties in regard to his own off-spring. No such man, we are sure, -would tolerate any assumption of the authority on the part of the -state to step between him and his child in the matter of -religious belief and instruction. No other form of tyranny would -arouse so quickly the indignant resistance of an American citizen -and father; and every upright man feels in his heart that what -would be so grievous to him should not be imposed upon any other -of his fellow-citizens, directly or indirectly. Actuated by such -views in the main, the state provides a system of public schools -from which, theoretical (and it may be practically in most -cases,) all forms of doctrinal religion are excluded, and -education is based upon a vague, undefined, generalized moral -teaching which very many eminent men of different religious -denominations have pronounced to be "godless," because the -doctrines of Christ (the foundation of his moral law) are not -taught in such schools according to any interpretation whatever, -for the plain reason that it could not be done without such -manifest injustice and wrong as we have already protested -against. To read the Bible, _without note or comment_, to -young children is, in reality, to lead them to the fountain of -living waters and forbid them to drink; whereas, "to expound the -word" is, at once, to violate the absolute neutrality which the -state is bound to maintain in the presence of conflicting -interpretations and dissenting consciences. Such is the precise -difficulty. Hence it is, that the Catholic Church has set its -face against the peril with which such a system of education -threatens its youth; and the Catholic pastors and their flocks, -though struggling with poverty, and harassed by ten thousand -pressing claims upon their charity, have strained every nerve to -establish parochial and other denominational schools where -secular education could be imparted without sacrificing religious -instruction. - -There is no doubt but that there are many strong and marked -doctrinal differences between the various Protestant -denominations which have led some of their most eminent men to -argue against the possibility of a perfect or desirable system of -public schools upon the mixed or non-intervention basis. -Nevertheless, it is also true that in the fundamental point, -essentially characteristic of Protestantism, and in which it -especially differs from the Catholic Church (private -interpretation and the rejection of tradition) all Protestant -churches agree; and herein we find the reason why they can -conform to the necessities of such a public-school system as we -have described, with some degree of amalgamation; whereas their -Catholic fellow-citizens cannot avail themselves of the secular -advantages of such schools without a total sacrifice of religious -training. -{232} -We are told by the Rev. James Fraser, despatched on an official -mission for the purpose of reporting on the whole subject to the -commissioners appointed by her Majesty Queen Victoria, and who -visited the United States in 1865, that one of the -_influences_ adverse to the success of our American -common-school system is, "_the growing feeling that more -distinctly religious teaching is required, and that even the -interests of morality are imperfectly attended to;_" and -another "_influence_" is "_the very lukewarm support that -it receives from the clergy of any denomination, and the languid -way in which its claims on support and sympathy are rested on the -higher motives of Christian duty;_" from which, and other -causes, the Rev. Mr. Fraser reluctantly augurs misfortune to the -system itself in the future. There can be no doubt but that such -"lukewarmness" does exist, and that it is produced solely by the -"growing feeling that more distinctly religious teaching is -required." No accord of the Protestant sects upon what they call -"essentials," can permanently reconcile them to either a -doctrinal teaching at the public schools, in which it would be -impossible for them all to agree, or to the alternative necessity -of excluding from the schools all manner of "distinct religious -teaching," without which "even the interests of morality are -imperfectly attended to." Hence springs not only the -lukewarmness, but the affirmative opposition of distinguished -Protestant clergymen to the "godless system." - -It is altogether erroneous, however, to suppose, and unjust to -charge, that Catholics are hostile to the continuance of the -present schools. FAR FROM IT. They rejoice to see their -Protestant fellow-citizens availing themselves freely of those -great opportunities to instruct the future self-governing -citizens of the young republic. They appreciate, nay, they insist -upon the absolute necessity of raising the standard of popular -intelligence, so as to insure the wisest possible administration -of public affairs through the agency of the elective franchise. -That their church is profoundly solicitous for the secular -education of her people is too manifest for dispute, since she -has, by the instrumentality of her various religious orders, -established universities, colleges, academies, and innumerable -preparatory schools in every great city, and throughout the rural -districts of the country, wherever it was possible to do so. A -glance at the Catholic Register or Directory, for 1868, will -satisfy the most sceptical upon that point. The Roman Catholic -Church has covered Europe with such institutions, grand in -design, and magnificent in endowment; and it is not her purpose -to permit her children in America to fall behind the age for the -want of similar advantages, if she can supply their necessities. -She is ever appealing to their public spirit, their patriotism, -their religious sentiment, to obtain the means to build and -conduct her educational establishments; and most nobly have they -ever responded; for it was by the steady contributions of the -poor mainly, that nearly all of those great works were begun and -perfected. - -But we may well adopt the assertion of a writer in the last -January number of _Blackwood's Magazine_, that "_the fact -is palpable and every statesman, philosopher, and candid student -of the educational question confesses, that voluntary agencies -are wholly unable to undertake a task so gigantic,_" as that -of reaching the great mass of helpless ignorance existing even in -the most favored communities. -{233} -It is exactly here that government may legitimately step in with -its organized resources, but without wearing the pedagogue's cap. -The wisest governments of Europe, Catholic and Protestant, have -done this. They have abandoned the Lacedemonian usurpation of -domestic rights, reproduced by the first Napoleon, as he -expressed the policy in his curt style, "_My principal end in -the establishment of a teaching corps is to possess the means of -directing political and moral opinions._" A candid confession -for an autocrat. The nephew, who now reigns over France, has -learned by the experience of misfortune to be wiser and more -faithful to natural rights. In Catholic France education is -entirely free and without favoritism. The public educational fund -is equitably distributed to Catholic and Protestant, and each is -permitted to rear, under the supervision of their respective -clergy, as they may elect, the children of their own religious -household. Conscience is respected; and yet the youth of the -country are not deprived of instruction in the Christian faith at -the public schools. Protestant Prussia is as liberal and as wise -as France, and her system of public instruction is based upon the -necessity of religious teaching, and the right of the parent to -direct the child, and the just relation of the pastor to the -parent, and therefore the equity of a proper distribution of the -public-school fund. We have not the time, nor is it necessary to -go into the details; but it is sufficient to say that the -Prussian system concedes more to the Prussian Catholic than the -American Catholic has yet asked from an enlightened and -democratic American government; and yet, strange to say, the -American Catholic has been violently and persistently charged -with hostility to public education, and a conspiracy to destroy -republican institutions! Even England, iron-clad in her -prejudices, has adopted the principles of Prussia, niggardly as -her policy toward the public schools has always been. And what -shall we say of "benighted Austria," the land of popish -concordats! Let Mr. Kay, a recognized authority upon matters of -education, and a Protestant, answer this question. - - "The most interesting and satisfactory feature of the Austrian - system is the great liberality with which the government, - though so staunch an adherent and supporter of the Romanist - priesthood, has treated the religious parties who differ from - themselves in their religious dogma. It has been entirely owing - to this liberality that neither the great number of the sects - in Austria, nor the great differences of their religious - tenets, has hindered the work of the education of the poor - throughout the empire. Here, as elsewhere, it has been - demonstrated that such difficulties may be easily overcome, - when a government understands how to raise a nation in - civilization, and wishes earnestly to do so. - - "In those parishes of the Austrian empire where there are any - dissenters from the Roman Church, the education of their - children is not directed by the priests, but is committed to - the care of the dissenting ministers. These latter are - empowered and required by government to provide for, to watch - over, and to educate the children of their own sects in the - same manner as the priests are required to do for the education - of their children." - -He also says: - - "And yet in these countries--Austria, Bavaria, and the Rhine - provinces, and the Catholic Swiss cantons--the difficulties - arising from religious differences have been overcome, and all - their children have been brought under the influence of - religious education without any religious party having been - offended." (_Kay_, vol. ii. p. 3.) - -And bearing testimony to the earnest desire of the Catholic -Church to advance the education of her children everywhere, he -says: - -{234} - - "In Catholic Germany, in France, and even in Italy, the - education of the common people in reading, writing, arithmetic, - music, manners, and morals is, at least, as generally diffused - and as faithfully promoted by the clerical body as in Scotland. - It is by their own advance, and not by keeping back the advance - of the people, that the popish priesthood of the present day - seeks to keep ahead of the intellectual progress of the - community in Catholic lands; and they might, perhaps, retort - upon our Presbyterian clergy, and ask if they, too, are in - their countries, at the head of the intellectual movement of - the age? Education is, in reality, not only not suppressed, but - is encouraged by the popish church and is a mighty instrument - in its hands and ably used. In every street in Rome, for - instance, there are at short distances public primary schools - for the education of the children of the lower and middle - classes of the neighborhood. Rome, with a population of 158,000 - souls, has 372 public primary schools, with 482 teachers, and - 14,000 children attending them. Has Edinburgh so many schools - for the instruction of these classes? I doubt it. Berlin, with - a population about double that of Rome, has only 264 schools. - Rome has also her university, with an average number of 600 - students, and the papal states, with a population of 2,500,000, - contains seven universities; Prussia, with a population of - 14,000,000, has but seven." - -If the church has been found in hostility to educational systems, -it has been when, as in Ireland, the schools have been made -_proselytizing agencies_ and _instruments of -oppression_; and if she has disfavored without opposing other -systems, as here, it was solely to preserve her _own people_ -from the damaging effects of a purely secular education, and to -secure for them the higher advantages of a religious training. If -others find that the schools answer all their wants, she is well -pleased to see them derive every benefit therefrom which the best -administration of such a system can produce. But the Catholic -people say: If we who are counted by millions, and who are daily -adding to the wealth of the nation by our labor and enterprise, -are required to pay taxes for the support of the public schools -which we cannot use for the education of our children, ought we -not, at least, to receive an equitable proportion of the public -fund, to assist us in securing what every good citizen wishes to -see accomplished, the education of our youth? We are now -millions, and millions more are coming, by ship and steamer, -every day, almost every hour. We are a part of the nation, -children and citizens of the great republic. Shall we add to the -virtue and intelligence of the community, or to its ignorance and -vice? We are struggling with all our might, and devoting all our -means to reach the lowest stratum of our society, and lift it up -into the light and air of secular knowledge and spiritual grace. -Why should not the State of New York help in the good work? - -The regulations of France, Prussia, Austria, England, and other -countries of Europe would assuredly afford to our legislators the -practical details of a good working system, which it is not our -province to suggest in form, uninvited. Let it be conceded, -however, that millions of men throughout this country should not -be taxed for establishments of which they cannot conscientiously -avail themselves, unless, at the same time, they are permitted to -participate, in a reasonable way, in the enormous funds derived -from those tax-rates. Let the schools, though denominational when -endowed by the state, be subject to state inspection so far as to -insure the full compliance with the requirements of the general -law as to the standard of education to be bestowed, but with no -further control over management or discipline. - -{235} - -In the European countries referred to, (it may be said here -generally,) each religious denomination when sufficiently -numerous in a district to justify it, is permitted to establish a -denominational school; receiving its share of the public fund, -and being subject to governmental inspection as to the proper -application of the money, and the faithful discharge of the -engagement to impart secular knowledge according to the fixed -educational standard. The selection of the school-books and the -religious training of the children are in such cases placed in -the charge of the clergy, or made subject to their revision. -Where the religious denomination has not sufficient numerical -strength to enable it to establish a separate school, its -children attend the other public school or schools, but are -carefully guarded against all attempts at proselytizing, and -their religious instruction is confided to their own ministers. -In no instance is the proper proportion of the school fund ever -refused to any denomination which has the number requisite under -the law for the establishment of a separate school. By these -means, perfect freedom of conscience is preserved, and public -harmony and good-will promoted; whilst at the same time, the -children of all churches are brought up in the wisdom of the -world without losing the fear of God. In this way, too, religious -freedom becomes a _practical thing_, and not a -constitutional platitude or an empty national boast. In this -serious matter, this great national concern, those European -monarchies have expelled sham altogether. Have we? Do we in the -United States, vaunting our hatred of "_church and state_," -our devotion to entire freedom of conscience, our preeminent love -of "_fair play_," our respect for the _inviolable rights -of minorities_, do we imitate the liberal example of -monarchical Europe, Catholic and Protestant, when we tax our six -millions of Catholics for public schools, and then refuse them a -participation in the fund? What just man will say that such a -rule is right? What wise man will say that it is _politic_? -At least, let it not be said that in our great cities, where -there are tens of thousands of poor Catholic children, and in -those rural districts where the numbers are notoriously -sufficient to justify the establishment of one or more schools, -they shall be driven to seek an education under a system which -their parents cannot conscientiously sanction, or be left to the -chances of procuring the rudiments of learning from the -over-taxed and doubly-taxed resources of their co-religionists. -Help the schools now actually existing, and which are filled to -overflowing with eager scholars; and assist those who are willing -to build up others; the cost is no greater; the educational -policy of the state is equally satisfied, whilst the morals of -the rising generation, purified by religious faith and -strengthened by religious practices, will give the republic -assurance of a glorious future. - -We are satisfied that such a system would give us an enlightened -Christian people, and not merely a nation of intelligent men of -the world, as cold as they are polished, and as indifferent to -divine things as they are eager for the pleasures of sense and -the pride of life. - -This would be a truly solid basis upon which to build and -perpetuate the empire of a self-governing nation. Without this, -our constitution is a rope of sand, our republicanism a delusion, -and our freedom a miserable snare to the down-trodden -nationalities all over the earth. - --------- - -{236} - - All Souls' Day--1867. - - - Dying? along the trembling mountain flies - The fearful whisper fast from cot to cot; - Strong fathers stand aghast and mothers' eyes - Melt as their white lips stammer, "Not, oh! not - Him of all others? Nay, - Not him who from our hearths so oft drove death away?" - - Well may those pale groups gather at each door. - Well may those tears that dread the worst be shed. - The hand that healed their ills will bless no more, - The life that served to lengthen theirs has fled; - And while they pray and weep, - Unto his rest he passeth like a child asleep. - - Ah! this is sudden! why, this very morn - He rode amongst us: sick men woke to hear - The step of his black pacer: the new-born - Smiled at him from their cradles; many a tear - On faces wan and dim. - He dried to-day: to-night those cheeks are wet for him. - - For there he lies, together gently laid - The hands we were so proud of, his white hair - Making the silver halo that it made - In life around his brow; as if in prayer - The gentle face composed. - With nameless peace o'ershadowing the eyelids closed. - - And as beside him through the night we hold - Our solitary watch, I had not started - To hear my name break from him, as of old, - Or see the tranquil lips a moment parted. - To speak the word unsaid, - The last supreme adieu that instant death forbade. - - I dread the day-dawn, for his silent rest - Befits the night: I half believe him mine, - While in the tapers' shadowy light, his breast - Seems heaving, and, amid the pale moonshine - That wanders o'er the lawn. - Crouch the still hounds unknowing that their master's gone. - -{237} - - But when the morning at his window stands - In glory beckoning, and he answers not; - Not for the wringing of the widowed hands, - Or orphans wrestling with their bitter lot, - I feel, old friend, too well, - That naught can wake thee but the final miracle. - - Was it but yesterday, that at my gate, - Beneath the over-arching oaks we met; - Throned in his saddle, statue-like he sate, - A horseman every inch: I see him yet, - His morning mission done. - His deep-mouthed pack behind him trailing, one by one. - - Mute are the mountains now! No more that cry - Of the full chase by all the breezes borne - Down the defiles, while echo's swift reply - Speeds the loud chorus! Nevermore the horn - Of our lost chief will shake - Those tempest-riven crags, or pierce the startled brake! - - Those summits were his refuge when the touch - Of gloom was on him, and the gathered care - Of long life, that braved and suffered much, - Drove him from beaten walks, to breathe the air - That, haunts gray Carrick's crest, - And spur from dawn to dusk till effort purchased rest. - - But yet, in all these thirty years, how few - The days we saw not the familiar form - Amid the valleys passing, till it grew - Part of the landscape: through the sun or storm - With equal front he rode, - Punctual as planets moving in the paths of God. - - I've seen him, when the frozen tempest beat, - Breast it as gayly as the birds that played - Upon the drifts: and through the deadly heat - That drove the fainting reapers to the shade. - Smiling he passed along. - Erect the good gray head, and on his lips a song. - - I've known him too, by anguish chained abed, - Forsake his midnight pillow with a moan, - And meekly ride wherever pity led, - To heal a sorrow slighter than his own; - Or rich or poor the same-- - It mattered not: let any sorrow call, he came. - -{238} - - Thy life was sacrifice, my own old friend, - Yet sacrifice that earned a sacred joy, - For in thy breast kept beating to the end, - The trust and honest gladness of a boy; - The seventy years that span - Thy course, leave thee as pure as when their date began. - - Who could have dreamed the sharp, sad overthrow - Of such a life, so tender, strong, and brave? - My pulse seems answering thy finger now-- - 'Twas one step from the stirrup to the grave! - Oh! lift your load with care, - And gently to its rest the precious burden bear. - - All Souls' Day! as they place him in the aisle. - The bells his youth obeyed for Mass are ringing; - And, as beneath the churchyard gate we file, - To latest rite his honored relics bringing. - You'd think the dead had all - Arrayed their little homes for some high festival. - - As if for _him_ the flowering chaplets, strewn - Throughout God's acre, breathe a second spring; - To him the ivy on the sculptured stone - A welcome from the tomb seems whispering: - The buried wear their best. - As, in their midst, their old companion takes his rest. - - Yes, he is yours, not ours: set down the bier: - To you we leave him with a ready trust: - Beneath this sod there's scarce a spirit here - That was not once his friend: Oh! guard his dust! - And if your ashes may - Thrill to old love, your graves are gladder than our hearths to-day. - ----------- - -{239} - - Is it Honest? [Footnote 52] - - [Footnote 52: Sermons in answer to the Tract, _Is it - Honest?_ By Rev. L. W. Bacon. _The Brooklyn Times_, - March 9th, 17th, 24th, 1868.] - - -A brief tract, issued a short time since by The Catholic -Publication Society, seems to have produced an unusual commotion -among our non-Catholic brethren, and has called forth reply after -reply from the sectarian press and pulpit. The tract is very -brief, and consists only of a few pointed questions; but it has -kindled a great fire, and compelled Protestants to come forward -and attempt to defend their honesty, in uttering their false -charges and gross calumnies against Catholics and the church. It -has put them on their defence, made them feel that they, not the -church, are now on trial before the public. This is no little -gain, and they do not have so easy a time of it, in defending -their libels, as they had in forging and uttering them, when -Catholics had no organ through which they could speak, and were -so borne down by public clamor that their voice could not have -been heard in denial, even if they had raised it. Times have -changed since those sad days when it was only necessary to vent a -false charge against the church, to have it accredited and -insisted on by a fanatical multitude as undeniable truth, however -ridiculous or absurd it might be. - -Since our sectarian opponents have been put upon their defence, -we trust Catholics will keep them to it. We have acted on the -defensive long enough, and turn about is only fair play. They -must now prove their libels, or suffer judgment to go against -them. They feel that it is so, and they open their defence -resolutely, with apparent confidence and pluck. They have no lack -of words and show no misgiving. This is well; it is as we would -have it, for we wish them to have a fair trial, and to make the -strongest, boldest, and best defence the nature of the case -admits. - -In our remarks we shall confine ourselves principally to the -justification attempted by Mr. Bacon, in his sermons, as we find -them in the _Brooklyn Times_; and we must remind him in the -outset that the assumption with which he commences--that the -tract, in appealing to the good sense of the public, whether it -is honest to insist on certain charges against the church as -true, when the slightest inquiry would show them to be -false--makes an important concession, or any concession at all to -the Protestant rule, is altogether unwarranted. He says: "This -submitting of the questions in dispute to the public, man by man, -after the Protestant, the American fashion--concedes at the -outset one great and most vital principle, to wit, that the -ultimate appeal in questions of personal belief, is to each man's -reason and conscience in the sight of God." Quite a mistake. -There is no question of personal belief in the case. The question -submitted to the public by the tract is not whether what the -church teaches and Catholics believe is true or false, but -whether it is honest to continue to accuse the church and -Catholics of holding and doing what it is well known, or may -easily be known, they do not do, and declare they do not hold? -{240} -This is the question, and the only question, submitted. Is it -honest to continue repeating day after day, and year after year, -foul calumnies against your neighbor, when the proofs that they -are calumnies lie under your hand, and spread out before your -eyes so plainly that he who runs may read? We think even the -smallest measure of common sense is sufficient to answer that -question, which is, on one side, simply a question of fact, and -on the other, a question of very ordinary morals. The competency -of reason to decide far more difficult questions than that, no -Catholic ever disputes. We think even the reason of a pagan can -go as far as that. "Why even of yourselves judge ye not what is -right?" - -"But this tract," the preacher continues, "is a plain assertion -that no man ought blindly to accept the religious opinions to -which he is born, nor the instructions of his religious teachers; -but that he is bound, in honesty and justice, to hear the other -side, and decide between them by his own private judgment." If by -opinions is meant faith, it does no such thing; if by opinions -are meant only opinions, it may pass, though the tract neither -argues nor touches the question. The Catholic always supposes man -is endowed with reason and understanding, and that both are -active in the act of faith as in an act of science. There is and -can be no such thing as _blind_ faith, though blind -prejudices are not uncommon. Men seek or inquire for what they -have not, not for what they have. They who have the faith do not -seek it, and can examine what is opposed to it only for the -purpose of avoiding or refuting it. Catholics have the faith; -they are in possession of the truth, and have no need to make for -themselves the examination supposed. Non-Catholics have not the -faith; they have only opinions, often very erroneous, very -absurd, and very hurtful opinions, and they are therefore bound, -not by the _opinions_ they have received from their -religious teachers, or to which they were born, but to seek -diligently, with open minds and open hearts, for the truth till -they find it. When they find it, they will not be bound to seek -it, but to adhere to it, and obey it. There is no Protestant -teaching in this, and it is nothing "different from what the -Church of Rome always teaches her followers." - -The tract says: "Americans love -fair play." The preacher says: - - "I believe it is no more than the truth. If there is one thing - rather than another that Americans do love, it is this very - thing--absolute freedom and fairness of religious discussion. - Curious, isn't it? How came Americans to 'love fair play'? - Englishmen seem to have a similar taste. Catholic or Protestant - in England can speak or write his thoughts, on either side, - without hinderance or constraint. The same thing may be - remarked, in a measure, in Northern Germany. How can you - account for it? What is the reason, do you suppose, why they - don't 'love fair play' in Spain? or in Austria? or in Mexico? - or in Rome? This injured innocent stands in New York, at the - corners of the streets, bemoaning himself that he is treated - 'dishonestly, and unjustly,' because the public will not buy - and read his books; and all the time, in the Holy City - itself--under the direct fatherly government of the pope--a - subject is not allowed to be (as this tract says) 'honest and - just' toward Protestant Christians by examining both sides, - except at the peril of being punished as for an infamous crime! - 'Americans love fair play.' Why do all Roman Catholic nations - suppress it? Why does the pope forbid it in his own dominions? - And what reason have we to believe that, if these who are - clamoring for 'fair play' should ever hold the power in this - country, they would put it to any different use here, from that - which prevails in Catholic countries generally?" - -{241} - -We are not aware that there is any less love of fair play in -Spain, Mexico, or Rome, than in the United States, England, or -North-Germany, in Catholic than in non-Catholic countries, only -there is more faith and less need to seek it, or to examine both -sides in order to find it. As a matter of fact, though we cannot -regard it as any great merit, Catholics are generally far more -ready to hear both sides, and to read Protestant books, than -Protestants are to read Catholic books. We have never met with -intelligent Catholics as ignorant of Protestantism as we have -generally found intelligent Protestants of Catholicity. There is -nothing among Catholics to correspond to the blind prejudice, -deplorable ignorance, and narrow-minded bigotry of sectarians; -but we are happy to believe that even these are mellowing with -time, losing many of their old prejudices, and becoming more -enlightened and less bigoted and intolerant; there is still room -for improvement. - - "Let us understand in the outset," says the preacher, "that the - charges against Catholics and the Catholic Church that are - complained of in this tract, are conceded by the writer to be - of grave importance. The prohibiting of the Bible to the - people--the belief that priestly absolution has efficacy of - itself, and is not merely conditional on the sincerity of the - sinner's repentance--the paying to images of such worship as - the heathen do--all these are declared by this writer to be - 'detestable and horrible.' So that if it should appear that any - one of them is proved against Catholics or the Catholic Church, - the case is closed against them. He is not at liberty to go - back and apologize for the doctrine or palliate it. He has - declared it to be 'false doctrine'--'detestable and horrible.'" - -What the tract regards as important or unimportant, is nothing to -the purpose; what the preacher must prove is, that it is honest -to continue to repeat charges against Catholics and the Catholic -Church which have been amply refuted, and the refutation of which -is within the reach of every one who would know the truth; or at -least he must show that the refutation is insufficient, and that -the charges are not false, but true. He will not find us -shrinking from the truth, apologizing for it, or seeking to get -behind it or around it. We, however, beg him to understand that -he is the party accused, and on trial, not we, and that we are -probably better judges on doubtful points, of what is or is not -Catholic doctrine and practice, than he or any of his brethren. -He will do well, also, to bear in mind that the question raised -by the tract is not whether the doctrine of the church is true or -false, but whether it is honest to persist in saying that it is -what the church and all Catholics affirm that it is not. What he -must prove, in order to be acquitted, is that the church and -Catholics do hold what the tract denies, and denies on authority, -or that there are good and sufficient reasons for believing that -they do so hold. - -1. The tract asks, "Is it honest to say that the Catholic Church -prohibits the use of the Bible, when anybody who chooses can buy -as many as he likes at any Catholic bookstore, and can see on the -page of any one of them the approbation of the bishops of the -Catholic Church, with the pope at their head, encouraging -Catholics to read the Bible, in these words, 'The faithful should -be excited to the reading of the Holy Scriptures,' and that not -only for the Catholics of the United States, but also for those -of the whole world." Mr. Bacon does not meet directly the facts -alleged by the tract, nor plead truth in justification of the -libel; but undertakes to show that even if false, yet Protestants -may be personally honest in uttering it; and he adduces various -circumstances which he thinks may very innocently induce -Protestants to suppose that the church does prohibit the use of -the Bible. -{242} -We have not the patience to take up in detail all the -circumstances alleged, and refute the inferences drawn from them; -most of them are mere inventions, perversions of the truth, -misapprehensions of the facts in the case, and none, nor all of -them together, justify the inference, in face of what the tract -alleges, that the church prohibits the use of the Bible; and it -is easy for any one who honestly seeks the truth to know that -they do not. - -The facts alleged by the tract are accessible to all who wish to -know them. He who makes a false charge through ignorance, when he -can with ordinary prudence know that it is false, is not -excusable; and it is not surely in those who claim to be the -enlightened portion of mankind to attempt to defend their honesty -at the expense of their intelligence. They are the last people in -the world, if we take them at their estimate of themselves, to be -permitted to plead invincible ignorance. - -The _Newark Evening Journal_ is bolder and more direct than -Mr. Bacon. It asserts that the Church actually forbids the -reading of the Scriptures, and boldly challenges the fact alleged -by the tract. It says: "On the very page from which are taken the -words, 'The faithful should be excited to read the Holy -Scriptures,' are quoted, it is also said, 'To guard against error -it was judged necessary to forbid the reading of the Scriptures -in the vulgar languages, without the advice and permission of the -pastors and spiritual guides whom God has appointed to govern his -Church.' How then can it be false to say that the Church -prohibits the use of the Holy Scriptures?" Simply because to -forbid the _abuse_ of a thing is not to prohibit its -_use_. The faithful, for the promotion of faith and piety, -are excited to read the Scriptures; but to guard against error or -the abuse of the sacred writings, those who would wrest them to -their own destruction are forbidden to read them in the vulgar -languages, except under the direction of their spiritual guides. -A prudent and loving father forbids his child, who has a morbid -appetite or a sickly constitution, to eat of a certain kind of -food except under the direction of the family physician, lest the -child should be injured by it; can you therefore say that he -prohibits the _use_ of that kind of food? Certainly not. All -you can say is, that while he concedes the use, he takes -precautions against the abuse, which is in no sense inconsistent -with anything asserted by the tract. - -Mr. Bacon, referring to reported cases of the confiscation of -Bibles, circulated by the Bible Society, found in the hands of -the laity, says the French Bible confiscated was the Catholic -version of De Sacy; that the Polish Bible circulated by the Bible -Society was, word for word, the copy of the version published two -centuries before, and approved by two popes; the Italian Bible, -for reading which the godly family Madiai were persecuted and -imprisoned, was the Catholic version [not so] of Martini, -Archbishop of Florence, published with the approbation and -sanction of Pope Pius VI. Suppose this correct, it does not prove -that the Church prohibits the use of the Holy Scriptures, but is -very good proof to the contrary. These versions were made and -published for the people, and would have been neither made nor -published if the use of the Scriptures was forbidden. And how can -you say that popes prohibit what you show they approved and -sanctioned? There was a German Bible before Luther, and our Douay -Bible was published before the version of King James. - -{243} - -"But I am not willing," continues the preacher, "that this -effrontery [what effrontery?] of this question should be let go -even with this answer." We can easily believe it. "I am ready to -call witnesses." Well, dear doctor, your witnesses; we are ready -to hear their testimony. "Whoever heard of a Catholic Bible -Society multiplying copies of the Bible?" Nobody that we know of. -But how long is it since Protestants had a Bible Society? Prior -to that, did they prohibit the use of the Holy Scriptures? "Popes -have fulminated their bulls against Bible Societies, denouncing -them as an invention of the devil." Not unlikely; but it is one -thing to denounce Bible Societies, and another to prohibit the -use or the reading of the Bible. Your witnesses. Rev. sir, do not -testify to the point. Besides, all the facts, or pretended facts, -you bring forward are too recent for your purpose. The accusation -that the Church prohibits the use of the Scriptures was made by -Protestants long before any of them are even said to have -occurred, and therefore could not have originated in them. -_Ex-post facto_ causes are not admitted in catholic -philosophy. The charge brought against the Church betrays no -little folly and ingratitude. If the Church had prohibited the -use of the Scriptures, how could the Reformers have got a copy of -them? They certainly purloined them from her, and could have got -them from no other source. - -The preacher concludes his first sermon by saying: "I am glad the -time has come when it is understood on both sides that, if the -Roman Church is to commend itself to the American people, it must -begin by repudiating, as horrible and detestable, the teaching -and practice for three hundred years of the church." What has for -three hundred years been falsely alleged by her enemies to be her -teaching and practice, agreed; but what has really been her -teaching and practice, denied. "Let it but make good this new -claim, and we thank God for the new reformation, and welcome it -to the platform of Protestantism." There is no new claim in the -case; what the tract asserts has always been the doctrine and -practice of the church; she has always encouraged the use and -opposed the abuse of the Holy Scriptures. That the preacher -should desire a new reformation can be easily understood, for the -old has well-nigh run out; that he will ever be able to welcome -the church to the platform of Protestantism is, however, not -likely; for she is not fond of standing on platforms, and prefers -to remain seated on the rock. The reverend gentleman may be -shocked to hear it; but it is, nevertheless, a fact, that the -Bible and reason are not special Protestant possessions; they -were ours ages before Protestantism was born, and will be ours -ages after Protestantism is dead and forgotten. - -2. In his second sermon--in a note to which he corrects his -assertion that it was the Catholic version of Martini, and states -that it was the Protestant version of Diodati, that was used by -the godly family of the Madiai--the preacher confines his efforts -to questions raised by the tract with regard to the worship of -images and pictures, and of the Blessed Virgin and the saints. -The tract asks: - - "Is it honest _to accuse Catholics of paying divine worship - to images or pictures as the heathen do_--when any Catholic - indignantly repudiates any idea of the kind, and when the - Council of Trent distinctly declares the doctrine of the - Catholic Church in regard to them to be, 'that there is no - divinity or virtue in them which should appear to claim the - tribute of one's veneration;' but that all the honor which is - paid to them shall be referred to the originals whom they are - designed to represent?' (Sess. 25.) - -{244} - - "The answer to this question," the preacher says, "is to be - found by asking two others: 1. What sort of honors do the - heathen pay to images? 2. What sort of honors do Roman - Catholics pay to them? When we have got answers to these two, - we can compare them, and shall be able to say whether they are - the same." - -We respectfully submit that neither of these questions need be -asked; for so far as pertinent, both are answered in the tract -itself. The accusation against Catholics which the tract implies -cannot be honestly made, is that we pay _divine_ worship to -images and pictures, as the heathen do; what the tract then -denies is that Catholics pay _divine_ worship to images and -pictures; and what it asserts is, that the heathen do pay them -divine worship; but this assertion is simply illustrative, and -should it be found inexact, it would not affect the formal denial -that the worship Catholics pay them is _divine_. As to what -sort of worship Catholics do render to images and pictures, the -answer in the tract is explicit, that it is a "certain tribute of -veneration paid them in honor of their original. The worship is -not divine worship, and the honor paid is not paid to them for -any virtue in them, but is referred solely to their originals." -The catechism puts this clearly enough. "_Q. And is it -allowable to honor relics, crucifixes, and holy pictures? A._ -Yes; with an inferior and relative honor, as they relate to -Christ and his saints, and are the memorials of them. _Q. May -we then pray to relics and images? A._ No; by no means, for -they have no life or sense to hear or help us." - -The preacher labors to show that this inferior and relative honor -is precisely what the heathen pay to the images of their gods; -but this, if true, would not prove that we do, but that the -heathen do not, pay divine honors to images. He cites various -authorities, Christian and heathen, to prove that it is not the -brass and gold and silver, when fashioned into a statue, that the -heathen worship, but that through the statue or image they -worship the invisible gods; that is, they worship the image as -the visible representation of the invisible divinity. This is, no -doubt, in some respects, the actual fact; nobody pretends that -they worship precisely the material statue, but the numen or god, -the prayers, invocations, incantations, and the other ceremonies -of the consecration of the statue by the priests compelled to -enter the statue and take up his abode in it. But to this image, -which for them contains the god, the heathen offer sacrifices and -other acts of worship which are due to God alone, which makes all -the difference in the world, though we have no doubt that the -type copied, perverted, corrupted, and travestied in heathen -worship is the Catholic type; as all heathenism is a corruption, -perversion, or travesty of the true religion, or as Protestantism -is a corruption, perversion, or travesty of the Catholic Church. - -The heathen images and pictures represent no absent reality, and -are not memorials of an absent truth, like our sacred images and -pictures; and the heathen, then, can honor only the material -substance or the supposed indwelling numen or daemon. The gods -they are supposed to bring nigh, represent, or render visible, -are either purely imaginary, or evil spirits; hence the Scripture -tells us that "all the gods of the heathen are devils." And -finally, to these idols, which are nothing but wood and stone, -brass and silver, or gold, which represent, if anything, demons -or devils, the heathen pay divine honors; while we simply honor -and respect images and pictures of our Lord and his saints for -the sake of the originals, or the worth to which they are -related. -{245} -Here is a difference which we should suppose even our Protestant -doctor capable of perceiving and recognizing. - -The preacher forgets that what is denied by the tract is, that we -pay divine honors to sacred images and pictures, and cites ample -authority to prove that we do not pay divine honors to them or -through them. We offer them no sacrifices, and we offer them no -prayers or praises, even as symbols or as memorials of a worth -they represent. They are never the media through which we honor -that worth; but we honor them for the sake of the worth to which -they are related, as the pious son honors the picture of his -mother, the patriot the picture of the father of his country, or -the lover the portrait of his mistress. The respect we pay them -springs from one of the deepest and purest principles of human -nature, and can be condemned only by those who hold that there is -nothing good in nature, and condemn as evil and only evil -whatever is natural. - -The minister thinks that, even should enlightened and intelligent -Catholics understand the question as explained by the catechism -and defined by the Council of Trent, yet ignorant Catholics may -not; and with them the honors paid to images and pictures -actually degenerate into idolatry. He asks: - - "But how in this respect do the people of modern Italy differ - from those of ancient and heathen Italy? Do the practices of - the people there correspond to the doctrines of the - theologians, or have they, as of old time, 'bettered the - instruction?' Do they pay no special veneration, as if there - were some special virtue in the image itself, to those images - that are reputed to bleed or sweat, or to the pictures that - wink? If it was only as a guide of the thoughts toward the - person represented that the image or picture served, then one - image would serve as well as another, except that those in - which the skill and genius of the artist had most excelled to - represent in touching and vivid portraiture the object of the - worship, might be preferred above ruder and coarser works. But - as I have passed from church to church in those lands in which - the Roman system has had unlimited opportunity to work itself - out into practice, and have 'beheld the devotions' of the - people, I have seen certain statues frequented by a multitude - of worshippers, and visited by pilgrims from afar, who had come - to bow down before them, and hung with myriads of votive - offerings--waxen effigies of arms and legs and other members - that had been healed in consequence of prayers to that - particular image. And one fact, which I did not then appreciate - the bearing of, was constantly observed by myself and my - companion--that these objects of special worship and veneration - were _never_ works of superior art, but commonly rude, and - sometimes even grotesque. The inexpressibly beautiful and - touching statue by Bernini, of the Virgin holding upon her - knees the body of the dead Jesus, is in the crypt of St. - Peter's, and admiring critics go down to study it by - torchlight. But the image which is _adored_ is a grimy - bronze idol above it in the nave of St. Peter's, which is so - venerated as the statue of that apostle that the toes of the - extended foot have been actually kissed away by the adorations - of the faithful." - -It is very evident that the preacher, whatever opportunities he -may have had, knows very little of the Catholic people in -general, or of the Italian people in particular, and his guesses -would deserve more respect if made in relation to his own people. -Protestants have no distinctive worship which can be offered to -God alone, and are therefore very poor judges of what they may -see going on before their eyes among a Catholic people. The -Church is responsible only for the faith she teaches and the -practices she enjoins, approves, or permits. If the people depart -from this faith and abuse these practices in their practical -devotion, the fault, since she takes away no one's freedom, is -theirs, not hers. -{246} -The worship that Catholics render to God, the honor they pay to -the saints, and the respect they entertain for sacred images, -differs not, as all worship with Protestants must, simply as more -or less, but in kind, and not even a Protestant community can be -found so ignorant as not to be able to distinguish between an -image or a picture and the saint or person intended to be -represented by it. For the many years we lived as a Protestant we -never met any one of our brethren who mistook his mother's -portrait for his mother herself, or the statue of a distinguished -statesman for the statesman himself. Who ever mistakes the -equestrian statue of George Washington in Union Square for George -Washington on horseback, or confounds Andrew Jackson himself with -Mill's ugly equestrian statue of him in one of the squares of -Washington? Who could mistake the bronze horse on which the image -of the old General is placed, and which you fear every moment is -going to tilt over backward, for a real horse? Well, my dear -doctor, however ignorant these Italian people may be whom you see -kneeling before an image or a picture of the Madonna, they know -more of the doctrines of the Gospel, more of God, and of man's -duties and relations to him, more of his proper worship, than the -most enlightened non-Catholic community that exists or ever -existed on the earth. They may not know as much of error against -faith and piety, of false theories and crude speculations as -non-Catholics; but they know more of Christianity, more of what -Christianity really is, what it teaches, and what it exacts of -the faithful, than the wisest and most learned of your sectarian -ministers, not even excepting yourself. - -With regard to bleeding, sweating, or winking pictures, if you -find people believing in them, you will never find among -Catholics any who believe that they bleed, sweat, or wink by any -virtue that is in the picture itself; but that the phenomenon is -a miracle, which God works by the saint pictured. You may doubt -the miracle, but not reasonably, unless on the ground that the -evidence in the case is insufficient. Whoever believes in God -believes in the possibility of miracles, and there is nothing -more miraculous in a picture of the Madonna winking, sweating, or -bleeding, than there was in Balaam's ass speaking and rebuking -his master. It is simply a question of fact. If the proofs are -conclusive, the fact is to be believed; if insufficient, no one -is bound to believe it. - -If you find the people flocking to a particular image or picture -and bringing to it their votive offerings, it certainly is not, -as the preacher takes notice, on account of its merit as a work -of art; for the Italian people, with all their love and exquisite -taste for art, do not, like so many non-Catholics, confound -artistic culture with religious culture; nor is it because they -hold that there is any hidden virtue in that particular image or -picture itself, but because the saint whose it is, has or is -believed to have specially favored those who have invoked him -before it. They may or may not be mistaken as to the fact, but -the principle, on which the special devotion to our Lady or a -saint before a particular shrine is a correct one; and there is -in the practice no special honor to the image or picture for its -own sake, and consequently nothing necessarily superstitious or -idolatrous. - -Even if, as there is no reason to believe, the statue of St. -Peter in St. Peter's at Rome, and which the preacher calls a -"grimy bronze idol," was originally, as he tells us some say it -was, a statue of Jupiter, the honor paid to it by the faithful -would not be paid to Jupiter, while intended to be paid to St. -Peter. -{247} -But the toes of the image have been worn away by the kisses of -the worshippers; and do not these kisses prove that Catholics -adore the image? The heathen adore their gods by kissing the feet -of their statues; and when Catholics kiss the feet of the images -of their saints, how can it be said that they do not worship or -adore images as the heathen do? The heathen use incense in the -worship of idols; Moses prescribes incense, and the Jews use it -in their worship of the true God; therefore the Jews are -idolaters! The preacher forgets that what the tract declares to -be dishonest is the accusation that Catholics pay _divine_ -worship, that is, the worship due to God alone, to images and -pictures, as the heathen do. To kiss the feet of the statue of -St. Peter, from love and devotion to the saint himself, the -prince of the apostles, on whom our Lord founded his church, is -not to pay divine worship to the image, nor even to Peter -himself. Were we so happy as to find ourselves at St. Peter's in -Rome, we are quite sure that we should kneel before the statue of -St. Peter, and kiss its feet, running the risk of its having been -once a statue of Jupiter, and we should do it as a proper method -of expressing our love and veneration for the great apostle, and -as simply and innocently as the mother kisses the carefully -preserved portrait of her beloved son slain in battle for his -faith or his country. As to using the forms used by the heathen -to express affection or devotion, if proper in themselves, we -have as little scruple as we have in using the language which our -ancestors used in the worship of Woden or Thor, in our prayers -and praises to the One Ever-living and True God. - -3. The sermon next takes up the false accusation that Catholics -pay divine worship to the Blessed Virgin and the saints. The -tract asks: - - "Is IT HONEST _to accuse Catholics of putting the Blessed - Virgin or the Saints in the place of God or the Lord Jesus - Christ_--when the Council of Trent declares that it is - simply useful to ask their intercession in order to obtain - favor from God, through his Son, Jesus Christ our Lord, who - alone is our Saviour and Redeemer-- - - "When 'asking their prayers and influence with God,' is exactly - of the same nature as when Christians ask the pious prayers of - one another?" - -The preacher says, "At the outset let me remark, that the -question what Roman Catholics _do_ is not conclusively -answered by quoting what the Council of Trent declares." This -supposes that the same rule must be applied to Catholics, who -have an authoritative church, that is applicable to -non-Catholics, who have none, or to people among whom every one -believes according to his own private judgment, and does what is -right in his own eyes. But this is not permissible. Our faith is -taught and defined by authority, and to know what we as Catholics -believe or do, you must be certain what the church -authoritatively teaches or prescribes. We cannot go contrary to -that and be Catholics. No doubt Catholics may depart from the -faith of the church, and disobey her precepts; but when they -obstinately persist in doing so, they cease to be Catholics in -faith and practice, and their belief or their practice is of no -account in judging what is or is not Catholic doctrine or -practice. They who believe or do anything contrary to what is -declared by the Council of Trent, are _pro tanto_ -non-Catholics. To know what is Catholic faith and Catholic -practice, you have only to consult the standards, of the Catholic -Church--not every individual Catholic, as you must every -individual Protestant when you wish to ascertain what is -Protestant -opinion and practice. -{248} -Our standards speak for themselves; and in determining what -Catholicity enjoins or allows, you must consult them, and them -only. - -Mr. Bacon and his brethren have as free access to our standards -as we ourselves have, and they must remain under the charge of -dishonestly misrepresenting us, or prove by our standards that -the church offers or authorizes or does not forbid her children -from offering divine worship to the Blessed Virgin. Their -surmises, their conjectures, their inferences from what they see -among Catholics, but do not understand, must be thrown out as -inadmissible testimony. There are the standards: if they sustain -you, well and good; if not, you are convicted, and judgment must -go against you. This is the case presented by the tract, and -which Mr. Bacon and his friends are to meet fairly and squarely. - -Now, the tract shows from the standards, from the Council of -Trent, which is plenary authority in the case, that the -accusation against Catholics of "putting the Blessed Virgin or -the saints in the place of God or the Lord Jesus Christ," is an -accusation so manifestly untrue that no one can honestly make it. -Here also is the catechism, which the church teaches all her -children. "_Q. Does this commandment [the first] forbid all -honor and veneration of saints and angels?_ No; we are to -honor them as God's special friends and servants, but not with -the honor which belongs to God." The Council of Trent declares -that "it is good and useful to ask the saints who reign together -with Christ in heaven, to pray for us," "or to ask favors for us -from our Lord Jesus Christ, who alone is our Redeemer and -Saviour." We ask the saints in heaven, as we ask our friends on -earth, to pray for us. Here is the whole principle of the case. -The Council of Trent, Sess. 22, c. 3, defines that, "though the -church is accustomed to celebrate masses in honor of the saints, -yet she teaches they are never to be offered to them, but to God -alone." _Non tamen illis sacrificium offerri docet, sed Deo -soli, qui illos coronavit._ Now, with Catholics the -distinctively divine worship, the supreme worship due to God -alone, and which it would be idolatry to offer to any other, is -sacrifice, the highest possible sacrifice, the sacrifice of the -Mass, which our priests offer every day on the altar; the one -unbloody sacrifice which was offered in a bloody manner on -Calvary. This is offered to God alone; all else that is offered -to God in worship, prayer, praise, love, veneration, may, in kind -at least, be offered to men. We honor the chief magistrate, -whether called king or emperor, president or governor; we honor -the prelates whom the Holy Ghost has placed over us in the -church; we pray to or petition rulers and men in authority; we -chant the praises of the great and the heroic; we love our -country, our family, and friends; we venerate the wise and the -good, who, in services to the cause of truth, morals, and -religion, prove themselves godlike. That Protestants, who have no -sacrifice, no priest, no altar, no victim, should mistake the -nature of our _cultus sanctorum_, is not surprising, for -they have nothing in kind to offer God that we do not offer to -the saints, especially to the queen of saints, the Blessed Mother -of God. But this is their fault, not ours; for it is easy for -them to know--for our standards tell them so--that we as -Catholics place the supreme act of worship in the sacrifice of -the Mass--holding that only God is an adequate offering to God, -and that the sacrifice of the Mass is never offered to the saints -or to any but God alone. -{249} -There is a marked difference between our _cultus sanctorum_ -and that with which men like Mr. Bacon, of Brooklyn, seek to -identify it. The heathen offered sacrifices, the highest form of -worship they had, to their idols, their demigods and heroes; we -offer the highest worship which we have--and we have it only -through God's goodness--to the one, living, true God only. This -proves that the accusation against Catholics of putting the -Blessed Virgin and the saints, as objects of worship, in the -place of God, is a false accusation, so well known or so easily -known to be false, that no one of ordinary intelligence can -honestly make it. - -But the preacher supposes that Catholics, in other respects, put -them in the place of God. This is impossible. Catholics hold that -the saints, with the Blessed Virgin at their head, are men and -women--creatures whom God has made, has redeemed with his own -blood, and has elevated, sanctified, and glorified by his grace, -and therefore they cannot identify them with him or substitute -them for him. We hold that Mary is the Mother of Christ, and that -he is her Lord as well as ours, and that it is through his merits -alone, applied beforehand, that she was conceived without -original stain; and can anybody, so believing, mistake her for -her Son, in any respect put her in his place, or assign to her -his mediatorial work? The very fears expressed by our Protestant -friends that we do or are liable to do so, prove that even they -are able to discriminate between her and her Son; why not then -we? - -The reverend gentleman continues: - - "We are invited to several inquiries. First: Is it true that - the prayers that are offered by Roman Catholics to departed - saints, and especially to that holy woman whom we with them in - all generations unite to call the blessed, are only of such a - nature as we might offer to a fellow-Christian here upon the - earth in soliciting his prayers in our behalf? Secondly: Are - these supplications only for favor and influence, or are they - for the direct gift of blessing and salvation? Do they put Mary - into the place of Christ, the one Mediator between God and man; - making of the All-Merciful Saviour who inviteth all to come - unto him, an inaccessible object of dread and terror, whom we - dare not approach except through the mediation of Mary? Do they - ascribe to her the glory due to Christ, the only name given - under heaven among men whereby we may be saved? Do they profess - faith in her alone for salvation? Do they put the saints in the - place of the Holy Ghost, by supplicating from them directly the - divine gift of holiness and the renewal of the sinful heart?" - -We have answered these questions by anticipation. It is probable -that Catholics believe somewhat more distinctly and more firmly -in "the one mediator of God and men, the man Christ Jesus," than -do the sects, and are less likely to forget it, seeing that all -their practical devotions, public and private, the great honors -given to Mary and the saints are founded on it and tend directly -to keep us from forgetting it. Catholics do not pray to Mary -because they regard the All-merciful Saviour as inaccessible, or -as an object of dread and terror; nor because she comes in -between them and him, represents him, or enables them to approach -him through her, as is evident from the fact that we not -unfrequently directly beseech him to grant that she and other -saints may pray for us. We honor her as the mother of God in his -human nature. We pray to her to pray to him for us, not only -because she is our mother as well as his, but because she is dear -to her Son our Lord, and he delights to honor her by granting her -requests. -{250} -For a like reason we invoke the saints, that is, ask them to pray -for us. We must then be more ignorant and stupid than even our -sectarian ministers believe us, if, in praying to them because as -his friends they are dear to him, we substitute them for him from -whom what we seek can alone come. If we believe they themselves -give it, why do we ask them to pray him to grant it? Cannot our -acute and ingenious doctor see that the invocation of saints -renders the error he supposes Catholics fall into utterly -impossible in the case of the most ignorant Catholic, and that it -tends to fix the mind and the heart directly on the fact that -every good and every perfect gift is from above and cometh down -from the Father of lights? Can he not see that the intercession -we invoke is a clear confession of the truth he thinks it -obscures or obliterates? If we think the good comes from them, -why do we ask them to intercede with Christ to bestow it? Why not -ask it of them? But is it true, as the tract affirms, that we ask -nothing of Mary and the saints in heaven that it would be -improper to ask of our fellow-Christian? This is not precisely -what the tract asserts. It asserts that asking their prayers and -influence is exactly of the same nature, that is, the same in -principle, with what Christians do when they ask the pious -prayers of one another. To this the preacher replies: - - "I hold here a volume of 800 pages, almost every one of which - contains an answer to these questions, so far as I honestly - read it, in the affirmative. It is _The Glories of Mary_, - by St. Alphonsus Liguori, approved by John, Archbishop of - New-York. I scarcely know where to begin quoting, or to cease. - - "'O Mary, sweet refuge of miserable sinners, assist me with thy - mercy. Keep far from me my infernal enemies, and _come - thyself_ to take my soul and present it to my eternal - Judge.' 'All the mercies ever bestowed upon men have come - through Mary.' 'Mary is called the gate of heaven, because no - one can enter heaven if he does not pass through Mary, who is - the door of it.' 'As we have access to the eternal Father only - through Jesus Christ, so we have access to Jesus Christ only - through Mary.' - - "'Mary is the peacemaker between sinners and God.' 'My Mother - Mary, to thy hands I commit the cause of my eternal salvation. - To thee I consign my soul; it was lost, but thou must save it.' - 'Thou art the advocate, the mediatrix of reconciliation, the - only hope, and the most secure refuge of sinners.' 'I place in - thee all my hopes of salvation.' 'She is the advocate of the - world and the true mediatrix between God and man.' 'Blessed is - he who clings with love and confidence to those two anchors of - salvation, Jesus and Mary.' 'Deliver me from the burden of my - sins; dispel the darkness of my mind; banish earthly affections - from my heart.' 'O Lady, change us from sinners to saints.'" - -Tastes differ, and not every Catholic would employ every -expression used by St. Alphonsus in his _Glories of Mary_; -but none of these expressions convey to the Catholic mind what -they do to the Protestant mind; for Catholics have a key to their -meaning in their faith in the incarnation. The strongest of them -is justified by the relation of Mary to that great mystery in -which centres and from which radiates the whole of Christianity. -From her was taken that flesh, that human nature, in which God -redeems and saves us; and being taken from her, she has a -relation to God, our Saviour, and consequently to our redemption -and salvation, which no other woman, no other creature, has or -can have. This relation explains the passages in the Litany of -our Lady of Loretto, and those passages of St. Alphonsus and -other Catholic writers which assert that all mercies and graces -come from God through her. They all come from God in his human -nature; and as that nature was taken from her, they must in some -sense come through her. -{251} -They come through her, because they come from God as born of her. -They also come through her, because God, her divine Son, who -gives them, loves her as his mother, and delights to honor with -the highest honor a creature can receive; he therefore confers -the favors mortals pray for only through her intercession. But as -all the special honor done to her is done only in consequence of -her relation as his mother, the higher we carry that honor the -more clear, distinct, and energetic our conviction of the fact of -the incarnation, and the more impossible it must be for us to put -her in the place of the Incarnate Word, or to substitute her for -her Son, who is the one mediator of God and men, the man Christ -Jesus. To do so would be not only to rob him of his glory, but to -deny her title to that very honor given to her as the mother of -God. Catholics are not capable of anything so illogical and -absurd. - -The key to the other expressions objected in St. Alphonsus is in -this same relation to the incarnation and the confidence of the -Saint in the power and efficacy of Mary's prayers or intercession -for us with her divine Son. He confides to Mary, leaves in her -hands the cause of his eternal salvation, as the client confides -his cause to his advocate or counsel. "My soul," he says, "was -lost, but thou must save it"--by thy intercession with thy Son, -who will deny thee nothing thou dost ask, because thou canst -never ask but what he inspires thee to ask, and what is agreeable -to his will, and he delights to honor thee before heaven and -earth by granting thy requests. In the same way understand the -expressions, "the advocate," "the mediatrix of reconciliation," -and all the rest. The term mediatrix is not the best possible, -because it is liable to mislead not a Catholic, but a -non-Catholic, who believes little in the incarnation, and refuses -to interpret the language of Catholics by the official teaching -of their church. The Catholic always knows in what sense it is -said, and for him the explanations are never necessary; still -less are they necessary for Him who sees and knows the thoughts -and intents of the heart before they are even formed. It is the -duty of non-Catholics to consult the standards of the church and -to explain what seems to them difficult or inexact in the warm -and energetic expressions of Catholic love and devotion by them; -and it is not honest to found a charge against Catholics on such -expressions without having done so. The preacher continues: - - "'Is IT HONEST to accuse Catholics of putting the Blessed - Virgin or the saints in the place of God or of the Lord Jesus - Christ? You have the answer. You know the place which God - claims for himself the 'honor which He will not give to - another.' You have heard from the very words of the Roman - Catholics themselves the place to which they exalt the spirits - of departed men and women." - -Yes, you have the answer such as your minister gives; and we have -shown that his answer misinterprets facts which he does not -understand; that it refuses to interpret them by the key -furnished in the official teaching of the church; that it -contradicts itself, and proves, if anything, the falsity of the -very charge it undertakes to establish, and therefore clears -neither him nor you, if you accept it, from the charge of -dishonestly bringing false accusations against the church of God. - -{252} - - "Is IT HONEST _to assert that the Catholic Church grants any - indulgence or permission to commit sin_--when an - 'indulgence,' according to her universally received doctrine, - was never dreamed of by Catholics to imply, in any case - whatever, any permission to commit the least sin; and when an - indulgence has no application whatever to sin until after sin - has been repented of and pardoned?" - -The preacher has the air of conceding that this charge is -unfounded, and says, "If it is made, it does not appear to be -sustained yet he maintains that indulgences really remit the -punishment due to sins committed after the indulgence has been -bought and paid for; for they are alleged to preserve the -recipient in grace till death, in spite of subsequent sins." And -he cites the case of Tetzel, in the sixteenth century, in proof -He adduces what purports to be a form of absolution published by -Tetzel, and offered for sale in the market-places of Germany. The -form of absolution alleged is manifestly a forgery, and a very -stupid forgery; and besides, absolution and indulgences are very -different things, and the indulgence affects only a certain -temporary punishment that remains to be expiated after the -absolution is given or the eternal guilt is pardoned, and is -rather a commutation than a remission of even that temporary -punishment, which, if not commuted or borne here, must be -expiated hereafter in purgatory. There is no _form_ of -indulgence; there are _conditions_ of gaining an indulgence; -but there is no certificate given to the effect that we have -obtained it. If we have sincerely complied with the conditions -prescribed by the pope, we gain it; but whether we have gained it -neither we nor the church can know in this life without a special -revelation. Every Catholic knows that to offer money for it would -argue a disposition on his part that would render it impossible, -while he retained that disposition, to gain an indulgence. No one -can gain an indulgence while in a state of sin, and hence -indulgences are not at any price profitable things to purchase. -That Tetzel exaggerated the virtue of indulgences was asserted by -Luther and his friends; but that he offered them for sale in the -market-places, was never, we believe, even pretended until after -his death--was and never has been proved. Luther and his friends -complained that he was causing a scandal, and procured his arrest -and imprisonment in a convent of his order, where he died two -years after, without the matter, owing to the troubles of the -times, even undergoing a judicial investigation. As for Luther's -own testimony, in a case touching his hatred against Rome, it is -of no account. - - "The only sense," continues the preacher, "in which the Roman - Church has ever sold licenses for crime, has been in this, of - announcing (not in America, in this century) a tariff of - cash-prices at which (_with_ contrition) all evil - consequences of certain sins, whether in this world or the - world to come, would be cancelled. The price-current in Germany - in the sixteenth century, ranged as follows: for polygamy, six - ducats; for sacrilege and perjury, nine ducats; for murder, - eight ducats. In Switzerland, at the same period, the price was - for infanticide, four francs; for parricide or fratricide, one - ducat." - -This seems to us quite enough. The Catholic will perceive that -our learned friend is not very well posted on Catholic matters. -He evidently confounds sacramental absolution with indulgences, -and indulgences with the dispensations which the church grants in -particular cases, not from the law of God, nor the law of nature, -but from her own ecclesiastical law; and supposes that the fees -paid to the chancery for the necessary legal documents in the -various causes that come before it, are the fees paid by the -faithful for indulgences and the pardon of their sins. [Footnote -53] -{253} -A man who speaks of matters of which he knows nothing is liable -to say some very absurd things. Nevertheless, the preacher says -expressly, and we doubt not means to concede the point made by -the tract, that indulgences are not licenses to commit sin, but -he has labored to make his concession as little offensive to his -Protestant brethren as possible. Still he concedes it. "I think, -therefore," he says, "that the author of this tract is right in -claiming that it is not just to assert that the Catholic Church -grants any indulgence or permission to commit sin." No, she does -no such thing, she only "intimates beforehand her willingness, if -such and such crimes are committed, to make it all right with the -malefactor both in this world and the world to come, for -penitence--and CASH." He who should offer cash to pay for -absolution would receive for answer, "Thy money perish with -thee!" - - [Footnote 53: For a full proof of the forgery of the above - passage in the book called _Tax-Book of the Roman - Chancery_, see Bishop England's Letters to Dr. Fuller, - Works of Bishop England, vol. iii. p. 13.] - - "Is IT HONEST _to repeat over and over again that Catholics - pay the priests to pardon their sins_--such a thing is - unheard of anywhere in the Catholic Church--when any - transaction of the kind is stigmatized as a grievous sin, and - ranked along with murder, adultery, blasphemy, etc., in every - catechism and work on Catholic theology?" - -The preacher thinks it is very honest, because, if the church -prohibits and punishes it as simony, it is very evident that it -sometimes happens. If the offence had never been committed, the -church would never have had occasion to legislate on the matter. -It was argued that for a long time the crime of parricide was -unknown at Rome, because there was no law prohibiting and -punishing it. This is his answer, and a proof, we suppose, of his -candor of which he boasts, of his readiness to die rather than -knowingly repeat a false charge against the church! The real -accusation against the church, which the tract denies can be -honestly made, is that Catholics are required to pay, or that the -priest can lawfully exact pay, for the pardon or absolution he -pronounces in the sacrament of penance. It does not necessarily -deny that the thing may sometimes be done, but, if so, it is -unlawfully, is a sin, and ranked along with murder, adultery, -etc. The sin of simony, in one form or another, has in the -history of the church often been committed, and those who -committed it are, in general, favorites with Protestant -historians, who seldom fail to brand as haughty tyrants and -spiritual despots the noble and virtuous popes who struggled -energetically against it, and did their best to correct or guard -against the evil. But honest men will not hold the church -responsible for the misdeeds of unprincipled men, which she -prohibits and exerts all the power of her discipline to prevent -and punish. The case is too plain to need argument. Penance, the -church teaches, is a sacrament, of which absolution is a part, -and to sell any sacrament or part thereof is simony, a grievous -sin; and though there is no sin that may not have been committed, -yet the fact of a priest, however depraved, demanding pay for -sacramental pardon or absolution is not known to have ever -occurred. The church prohibits it, indeed, but only in -prohibiting simony, and we are not aware that she has ever passed -any special law against this particular species of simony, and -therefore the argument of the preacher falls to the ground, and -for aught he shows, it is true to the letter that the thing is -unheard of. - -{254} - - "Is IT HONEST _to persist in saying that Catholics believe - that their sins are forgiven merely by the confession of them - to the priest, without a true sorrow for them, or a true - purpose to quit them_--when every child finds the contrary - distinctly and clearly stated in the catechism, which he is - obliged to learn before he can be admitted to the sacraments? - Any honest man can verify this statement by examining any - Catholic catechism." - -"Nothing," says the preacher, "could be more conclusive than this -logic, if we could constantly presume that the belief and -practice of the people always coincide exactly with the teaching -of the catechism." If the coincidence were perfect, there would -be no sins to confess, no need of the sacrament of penance, and -no question as to the condition of ghostly absolution or pardon -could ever be raised. But as the preacher finds nothing to object -to under this head in the teaching or official practice of the -church, we must presume that he finds the logic of the tract, -whatever may be the deceptions, if any, practised upon the -priest, is quite conclusive, and he certainly concedes quite -enough to show that the accusation against the church which the -tract repels, cannot be honestly repeated. We would remind the -preacher that no one is forced against his will to go to -confession, and the very fact of one's going is presumptive proof -of sincere sorrow for his sins, and a resolution, weaker or -stronger, God helping him, to forsake them. Why should he seek to -deceive the priest, when he knows that if he seeks to do so, he -would not only receive no benefit from the absolution, but would -commit the grievous sin of sacrilege by profaning the sacrament? - - "Is IT HONEST _to say that Catholics believe that man, by his - own power, can forgive sin_--when the priest is regarded by - the Catholic Church only as the agent of our Lord Jesus Christ, - acting by the power delegated to him, according to these words, - 'Whose sins you shall forgive, they are forgiven them, and - whose sins you shall retain, they are retained?' St John xx. - 23." - -The preacher has offered no reply, or, if he has, we have -overlooked it, to this grave accusation; perhaps he has none to -make. The journals, however, attempt a reply, the purport of -which is, that, though the tract states truly the official -teaching of the church, yet Catholics practically believe, as -every one knows who has had intercourse with them, that it is the -priest, not God, who they believe pardons sin. This, too, is in -substance the reply of Mr. Bacon throughout. The tract states the -doctrine of the church correctly on all the points made, but then -that, it is pretended, is not the doctrine of the Catholic -people, the practical doctrine of Catholics, and gives no clue to -the practical workings of the Roman system--a clear confession -that they really have nothing to object to Catholic doctrine and -practice, though they have much to object to in what is no -doctrine or teaching or practice of the church. The reason of -this, we suppose, is, that they have no conception of the church. -Now, we think it is very likely that there are many Catholics who -cannot define very scholastically the distinction between -efficient cause and instrumental or medial cause; but put the -question to the most ignorant Catholic you can find. "Do you -believe the priest as a man in confession pardons your sins?" as -soon as he gets hold of what you are driving at, he will answer: -"No; he pardons or absolves them as a priest." This answer means -that the priest does not absolve by a virtue in him as a man, but -by virtue of his priestly office, to which he is appointed by the -Holy Ghost; that is, as the minister, or as the tract says, the -agent of our Lord Jesus Christ. All Catholics unhappily do not -conform their life to their faith; but you will find that the -faith of the people is that of the church, that which the church -officially teaches; and there is no room for the distinction -which non-Catholic ministers and journals, try, as their best -resort in self-vindication, to make between Catholicity in the -formularies of the church and the Catholicity that works -practically in the faith and lives of the Catholic people, -whether learned or unlearned. -{255} -All this talk about the practical workings of the system is -moonshine, at least outside of the record, to which no Catholic -is bound to reply. We are required to believe and defend only -what the church teaches and requires of her children: - -8. The tract concludes with the question, - - "Is IT HONEST _to make these and many other similar charges - against Catholics_--when they detest and abhor such false - doctrines more than those do who make them, and make them too, - without ever having read a Catholic book, or taken any honest - means of ascertaining the doctrines which the Catholic Church - really teaches? AMERICANS LOVE FAIR PLAY." - -In spite of all that sectarian preachers and journals can say, -the unprejudiced and fair-minded American will answer, to each -question the tract puts, No! it is not honest, but gravely -dishonest; for every one is bound to judge Catholics by the -standards of the church, open to all the world. And these -manifestly disprove the accusations. - -We have attempted no defence in this article of our holy religion -itself. We have only attempted to show our Protestant accusers -that their efforts to prove themselves honest, in their false -charges against the church and her faithful children, are -unsuccessful. They have not successfully impeached the tract in a -single instance, nor vindicated themselves from a single one of -its charges; nor can they do it. Many things may be said against -the immaculate spouse of Christ; the daughters of the -uncircumcised may call her black, may rail against her, and call -her all manner of hard names; but she stands ever in her -loveliness, all pure, and dear to her Lord, who loves her, and -gave his life for her, and dear to the heart of every one of her -loving children, and all the dearer from the foul aspersions cast -upon her by the ignorant, the foolish, and the malicious. - -We have not taken much notice of the professions of candor and -independence of the preacher; for we have never much esteemed -professions which are contradicted by deeds; nor are we easily -won by fine things said of individual Catholics by one who in the -same breath calumniates the holy Catholic Church. Few sermons -have we read that show a more decided hostility to our religion -than these of the Rev. Leonard W. Bacon, of Brooklyn, which are -unredeemed from their low sectarian character by any depth of -learning, extent of historical research, force of logic, richness -of imagination, flow of eloquence, or sparkle of wit. We have -found them very commonplace and dull; we have found it a dull -affair to read and reply to them; and we fear that our readers -will find our reply itself very dull, for dulness is contagious. - --------- - -{256} - - Magas; or, Long Ago. - - A Tale Of The Early Times. - - - Chapter IX. - -"She is bewitched, my lord," said her attendants to Magas, as he -stood the next day by the bedside of Chione, and she knew him -not. "She is bewitched. Chloe and two or three others heard the -spell muttered just before she fell." - -Magas looked incredulously, yet half-believing what they said. -"Why, who can have bewitched her?" - -"The Christians, my lord; there were many present, and they came -on purpose. They failed the first time, but they did it the -next." - -Magas gazed at Chione, as she lay, for the most part insensible, -yet at intervals uttering incoherent words which alarmed them -all. He said softly, "Chione?" - -She started up and gazed fiercely at him. "Begone!" she said, -"you have lost me my soul for ever; begone!" And she struck him a -violent blow. - -"It is ever thus, my lord," said an attendant consolingly, "when -people are thus attacked by the furies; they hate those most that -they loved the best." - -"What makes you think the Christians have bewitched her?" - -"They are practising magic all over, and playing all kinds of -tricks throughout the country." - -"But why should they attack your mistress?" - -"Why, my lord--" And the woman hesitated. - -"Well, what?" - -"Well, my lord, they do say she was once one of them; and when -any one leaves them, they never forgive them--they torment them -for ever." - -"Pshaw! what nonsense is this?" - -"I did not make the story, my lord; more than one says so." - -"Let those in this house beware of ever saying it again then, -unless they are fond of being scourged." And Magas turned away. -He was but half satisfied, however. He remembered the meeting -with the bishop, as he had afterward discovered him to be. He -knew, too, that Lady Damaris was accounted a Christian, and that -Chione always shrank from naming her. The Christians had a great -name for magic: but Dionysius and the Lady Damaris were of the -highest families. Magas paced for many hours the sacred grove to -which he had wandered, then suddenly betook him to the bishop's -residence. - -He was admitted, courteously received; but it was some time -before he returned the bishop's greeting. Dionysius waited his -pleasure with the courtesy for which he was remarkable. - -At length Magas said: "I cannot think you have done it." - -"Done what, my son?" - -"Bewitched Chione; made her mad." - -"Is Chione ill?" - -"She is very ill, she is raving and insensible by turns." - -"Your words seemed just now to imply I was concerned in her -illness." - -"Her attendants think--think--tell me, noble Dionysius, is it -true that Chione was ever a Christian?" - -"Why do you ask?" - -{257} - -"Because it is important that the Christians should know that, if -they have bewitched her in revenge for her leaving them, they -must undo the spell at once, or brave my vengeance." - -"This much, at least, I may tell you--the Christians have not -bewitched her." - -"Yet she fainted at some words uttered close to her, and that was -the _second_ interruption of the evening." - -"My son, you must not make me responsible for the interruptions; -I was not present at your meeting." - -"No, but some Christians were; that has been ascertained." - -"Even so; each one must answer for himself." - -"You did not send them there?" - -"I did not!" - -"Now, will you tell me, was Chione ever a Christian?" - -"I would rather that she answer for herself." - -"She is not in a state to answer for herself, and your answer may -prevent some suffering; if she was never a Christian, those -slaves shall be scourged who affirm she was." - -Magas had hit on the right method, as he intended; the bishop -answered at once: "Spare the poor slaves, my son. I baptized -Chione myself." - -"Baptized?" - -"Yes, admitted her within the pale of the church by washing away -all sin; by that she became a Christian." - -"How long ago?" - -"About fifteen months before she was missing from Corinth." - -When did she leave your society?" - -"I suppose when she left Corinth; I have not spoken with her -since." - -"Is her present illness connected with her Christianity?" - -"How can I possibly tell, my son? I have not seen her; mental -agitation may have caused it, and her leaving her religion may -have caused that; how can I tell?" - -"But has magic been used upon her?" - -"Not by Christians, decidedly; and I should think, not at all. -Her brain is probably over-worked, and she has been suffering -from over-excitement: these will frequently cause derangement." - -"And you think religion has nothing to do with it?" - -"I did not say that, my son; to profess one thing and believe -another must occasion uneasiness, until the conscience is dead. I -should say, from your account, that Chione is suffering from -mental disturbance, brought on by her unfaithfulness to her own -convictions. Once a Christian, she must still feel its influence; -and unwilling to yield to its teachings, she writhes under its -power." - -"That is it, that is what her nurses say; she is under the power -of the Christians--bewitched by them. Now, that spell must be -undone." - -"If it is in her own mind, caused by her own act, _no one_ -can undo it, as long as _her_ will remains perverse." - -"What does this mean?" said Magas. - -"It means this, my friend: Christianity links the soul to the -living God from which it sprang. To become a Christian is not a -myth, not a mere intellectual conviction, not an adoption of -philosophical tenets: it is an _act_, a solemn act of -_surrender_; it is an acknowledgment that the world has been -disturbed by influences foreign to the true God; it is a -renunciation of those influences, a solemn reunion of the soul -with the Eternal Soul, the Creator, the Upholder, the Redeemer; -it is positive. -{258} -A soul so linked by her own free consent, placed under -influences unknown to those outside, must, so long as conscience -speaks at all, suffer from the conflict she is undergoing, in -breaking loose from a personal intercourse with her Maker, as -also from a revelation of truth, beauty, and goodness, to plunge -anew into the darkness of human guesses." - -"You speak in enigmas, my lord! I presume one must be initiated -to understand you. Meantime, tell me, can you do anything for -Chione?" - -"I am somewhat of a physician, although no professor of magic. I -will see your patient, if it will give you comfort." - -Magas bethought him: the visit of a Christian bishop to his house -would be too remarkable. What was he to do? Suddenly he said: -"What could possess Chione to make herself a Christian?" - -"I believe it was the love of truth and beauty. She sought a key -to the mysteries of life, and Christianity offered her one." - -"And yet she left it!" - -"It is by no means clear that she has left it, otherwise than by -act. She is an unfaithful member, but she still believes, or it -would have no power over her." - -"I wonder is it religion that is making her so ill? My Lord -Dionysius, among her former companions, do you know one whose -discretion you could trust to take care of her for a day or two, -who would be competent to discover whether Christianity is -disturbing her?" - -"I know an amanuensis who might perhaps be willing to oblige you; -we will see." They left the house by a side-door. The bishop led -the way through a narrow path for some distance, till they came -to a villa. Here he made a signal at the gate; it was opened by -an old servitor, who bowed profoundly as he admitted him and his -companion. Dionysius whispered a word in his ear, and the old man -tottered on before to a side entrance, which he left open. They -entered, and very shortly another door opened into a small -library. A lady was writing there; they saluted her, and Magas -recognized Lotis. - -The bishop quickly made known the purport of his visit, and Lotis -willingly offered her services. Magas, however, demurred. "Is it -possible," said he; "are you really a Christian?" - -"I have that happiness," replied Lotis. - -"Why, how can it be? how is it that lofty minds like yours and -Chione's can ally yourselves with such a drivelling set?" - -Lotis smiled as she observed, "I think, Lord Magas, that the -illustrious Dionysius, who stands beside you, will scarcely feel -complimented." - -Magas blushed and apologized. "Forgive me," he said; "I am so -fairly confounded to-day, I do not know what I am saying." - -Dionysius said smilingly, "You do not know what Christianity is, -and therefore stand excused beforehand. Do you wish Lotis to -accompany you to Chione?" - -"The more, as I think she will scarcely be suspected of--" Magas -hesitated. The bishop filled up the gap for him--"of belonging to -such a drivelling set. No; and Chione even does not know it; so -your secret will be doubly safe. You may confide in Lotis -entirely." - - - - Chapter X. - -Lotis took her place by the bedside of her friend, but she found -her situation almost a sinecure. Though Chione did not recognize -her, she was very uneasy in her presence. "Take those large black -eyes away from me," she would say. -{259} -Finally Lotis found herself reduced to watching in the next room, -as Magas still desired her to stay and direct proceedings; and to -beguile the hours, she occupied herself in what had become almost -a business with her, in transcribing the gospels and apostolic -papers for the use of the different churches. Magas often visited -her, and would have shared her watch, had she permitted it; but -this she would not hear of; so he was obliged to be content with -frequent visits to inquire after the progress of Chione, and by -degrees to study the parchments on which Lotis was engaged. - -Ashamed to manifest the interest he felt, he took them to his own -apartment, and studied first, then secretly copied the writings -with his own hand. Weeks went on; Chione's health improved, but -her insanity did not pass away. Lotis proposed she should be -removed to a dwelling in the neighborhood of Lady Damaris' abode, -and be there tended. - -"Two influences are about her here," she said, "counteracting -each other. There all will be in unison." Magas assented. "I am -no longer afraid of Christians," he said; "but how any one -_once_ believing what is here written," continued he, -producing the gospel he had written out with his own hand--" how -any one, once believing, can fall away, is a mystery. I would -give all my possessions to have the faith, the confidence in God, -herein described. Faith seems to mean the creature's power in -God, derived from God. Could I once feel that God is my Father in -the sense the gospel has it, I would bid adieu to philosophy for -ever, and be at rest." - -"Then you are not angry that Chione is a Christian?" said Lotis. - -"I am angry that she has acted a lie, and imposed upon me," he -said. - -"It was love of you that constrained her. Forgive her, Magas." - -"_Love_ of me! Did she not know I love truth? I can never -believe her again." - -Lotis left the apartment and proceeded to superintend the removal -of Chione. - -Magas went to the bishop, to make arrangements for Chione's -maintenance; he wished to settle revenues on her ere he departed. - -"Depart! are you about to leave Athens, my son?" - -"Yes, father; it has become hateful to me, since I no longer love -Chione." - -"You do not intend to desert her?" - -"I leave her in good hands; what can I do more?" - -"Her whole being is bound up in you; through you she sinned." - -"That is the worst of it; I cannot look at her without feeling -that; but yet, I knew not she was a Christian, nor did I know how -sublime the Christian faith is. I cannot forgive her for -abandoning her faith." - -"But you are not a Christian, Magas?" - -"No! I am waiting for the manifestation of God. I am going to the -apostle who has heard and seen, who works miracles in the name of -Jesus; I am going to ask of this Jesus the _power_ of -faith." - -"What do you mean by the power of faith, Magas?" - -"The power of becoming a son of God, of being free, with the -freedom of old Merion, who is more free amid his chains than the -young worldlings with their power and wealth. Free from my own -passions, which master me and blind me; free from false -knowledge, which misleads me; free from the power of habit, which -enslaves me. -{260} -I want power to endure that crucifixion which dying to these -objects will occasion me. I feel my own nature rebelling against -my aspiration, and I want power to conquer it. The apostle says -the gospel is power unto salvation, and that power is needed -where life must be one combat, as mine must be for the time to -come." - -Dionysius, too modest to arrogate to himself the gifts which -daily experience proved him to possess, of working miracles to -attest the power of God, simply said, "The holy apostle Paul is -even now at Corinth; you cannot do better than seek him there; I -myself will shortly do the same." - - - Chapter XI. - - -Two years have passed; such years! Magas has left Athens, has -become a Christian--nay, a Christian preacher. His property has -been more for others than himself; for he has renounced wealth, -pomp, earthly power, to follow the footsteps of that wondrous -convert who was brought to Christ by being struck down to earth -by excess of light--blinded by glory--by seeing the heavenly -vision with the unprepared eyes of earth. By St. Paul confirmed -in the faith, Magas was, through the same apostle, set apart for -the ministry through the laying on of hands. Magas has so -completely changed his nature, his very features seem altered. -The young Athenian noble, proud of a long line of ancestry, but -seeks to devote his days to the one Master who shares his -undivided heart. - -Yet he returned to Athens, and his voice was heard by Chione. - -All night she listened; in her short slumbers she dreamed of him; -In the morning her wandering senses had returned. Lotis entered -her room with her breakfast; and the wild light in Chione's eyes -had subsided. She looked around; she inquired, "Where am I? -Lotis, why are you here?" - -"I am here to tend you, dear Chione; you have been ill." - -"Ill!" said Chione, passing her hand over her brow; "Ill! I've, -had a long, strange dream! Where's Magas?" - -"I do not know," said Lotis. - -"He was here last night," said Chione. "I heard his voice; all -night I watched for him; why did he keep away?" - -"I cannot tell you," answered Lotis. - -"Cannot tell! Is not this his house? is he not at home?" - -"No! this is not his house," said Lotis; "he has been away from -Athens, and he left you here to be taken care of. Now you must -ask no more questions, but take your breakfast. I will send to -Magas to tell him you are better." - -Lotis left the room and summoned another attendant, charging her -to be careful of her speech, lest the newly returned reason -should again fail, she herself sought the bishop to let him know -of the change. - -It required some care to break to Chione the tidings that she was -in the house of the Lady Damaris; that for two years she had been -a prey to a most cruel malady of the brain, during which time -Lotis had taken every possible care of her; and that Magas had -been, during that time, away. Reawakened reason almost tottered -again on its throne. Chione's pride was evidently hurt. - -"Two years! two years! was that the end of my triumph? Magas! a -mad woman! What has Magas been doing?" - -"He will tell you that best himself; he will be here shortly." - -"Two years! two long years! O Magas!" - -...... - -{261} - -"They met! But is this Magas? is this Chione? The long, lank -hair, eyes almost starting from their sockets; and that form, so -shrunken, so bereft of its former beauty, can this be the Venus -Urania? And Apollo! will you recognize him in that weather-beaten -form, coarsely clad, and mien so humble, though an intellectual -manliness still sat upon the brow? - -"Is this Magas? the same, and yet so changed? Magas, speak to -me." - -"You are then recovering at last, Chione?" - -"At last! yes! I knew not of my illness till I recovered. Strange -thing, this mind is, Magas! I lived on you: you were absent--I -died; your voice brought me back to life." - -"Nay, you were ill before I left you, Chione. It was a higher -voice speaking to you, to which you turned a deaf ear, that -caused your illness." - -"What mean you?" - -"That the remorse you felt for your abandoned faith upset your -mental energies. Venus Urania should not have been enacted by a -Christian." - -"You have discovered my secret then; but I am a Christian no -longer." - -"Oh! do not say that, Chione; say, rather, you will repent, do -penance. Chione, you cannot at will cast away faith. The effect -those words produced on you show that you still believe." - -"The devils believe and tremble," muttered the unfortunate woman; -"yet it is not faith they have." - -"But you are not yet a reprobate--are not yet beyond recall. -Chione, I, Magas, entreat you, do not lie to your God. You cannot -deceive him, and for his power, does not your past illness make -you tremble for the future?" - -"What means this altered tone, Magas?" said Chione bitterly. "Are -you turned against me? Ah! I see how it is! Two years of absence, -two years of illness, have done their work. Man's constancy is of -a summer day; the winter comes, he freezes with the cold; for the -love within no longer glows, no longer sends the blood rushing -through the veins with a warmth that defies exterior cold. Some -other form fresher than this frame impaired by sickness hath -replaced Chione in your heart. You come to bid me farewell. -Farewell, Magas." - -Deceived by her feigned calmness, Magas rose. "Again, Chione, I -entreat you to return to the religion you have abandoned." - -"And do penance at the church door in sackcloth and ashes? Is -that your meaning? Will you be there to see me beg the prayers of -the faithful as they pass in to the mysteries from which I am -excluded?" - -This was said with an inconceivable mixture of sarcasm and -bitterness. - -"Love could sweeten even such an act as that," said Magas; -"surely, even that is better than apostasy." - -"And who are you that dare to twit me with apostasy? False one, -wearied of thy old love, seeking another," (here she seized the -arm of Magas,) "tell me," she said fiercely, "what is the name of -the fair one for whom you abandon me?" - -"Why would you know?" asked Magas. - -"That I might tear her limb from limb!" said the frenzied woman. - -"That is beyond your power, Chione. Him I love sits enthroned in -the heavens. I have no earthly love. Chione, farewell. Remember, -Magas blesses you--blesses you as he leaves you. You will not see -him soon again, for Magas is a Christian priest." - -{262} - -He left her. - -No, the energies did not depart as she started to her feet on -hearing the last words--"a Christian priest!" "Magas! Oh! had I -known, could I have guessed! The love of Magas without losing my -religion! Can I regain it? Yes; by penance, Chione, doing -penance! Faugh! Chione standing in the cold, clothed in -sackcloth, exposed to the derision of the faithful. 'Twould be -easy to love, he said. Did he say so? Love must be boiling hot -indeed to sweeten such an act as that; and my love, ah! ah! love -for religion, such a religion as that, ah! ah! ah!" - -The poor woman raved, but alas! there was too much method in her -madness. Wilfully she shut out faith; wilfully she turned to hate -all that heretofore she had held dear; but she acted for a while -with an earthly prudence that deceived those around her. - -She staid with the Lady Damaris until she had recovered health -and strength, until she had made herself sure of the independence -Magas had settled on her. Then she left, and opened a school of -philosophy, which was soon filled. Her former reputation did her -much service in that respect, and that she had escaped from the -enchantments of the Christians, who had tried to destroy her, -added to the interest she inspired. She soon recovered her former -beauty, and she studied now, studied deeply, how to thwart the -Christians, how to demonstrate that whatever was beautiful in -their religion they had stolen from the muses; that whatever was -mystical came to them from Hindostan, the seat of mysticism; that -whatever was reasonable and ethical they had learned from -philosophy. It was a splendid success in Athens, that -philosophical school of Chione; for it flattered the passions -while it shed the grace of eloquence and refinement over them. -All beauty, taste, and melody were made to yield their utmost -sweetness there. Her disciples were of the rich, the great, the -noble. They could practise the elegant course of study -alternating with ease that she prescribed: "To enjoy is the aim -of existence, refinement, cultivation, a correct system of ethics -makes perfect enjoyment. Science gives interest, lifts one above -the vulgar. Art ennobles and civilizes, and Athens is still the -central point of art, science, and philosophy." So said Chione. - - - Chapter XII. - -"Indeed, Lotis, you must give me more hope than that; you must -not bid me despair." - -The words were spoken somewhat louder than was intended. They -were heard by one who was passing by. The speaker was Magas; the -passer-by was Chione. Magas was lamenting over the account he had -heard of Chione's continued resistance to grace. Chione applied -to the words another meaning; she ascribed them to a passion felt -for Lotis, and her heart burned with rage and jealousy. - -"Magas was then returned to Athens. What was he doing?" She set -spies on his steps. He was often at the bishop's house, often in -the Christian assembly; but also often had interviews with Lotis. -This fact, which might have been easily explained by the -occupation of Lotis, who supplied copies of books, and kept -various accounts for the church, was otherwise interpreted by the -misled woman, and she resolved on the destruction of Lotis. -{263} -If she could not regain the love of Magas, at least she would not -have a rival. She had influence in the city. Nero's persecution, -though but little felt in the colonies, could be brought to bear. -Lotis should not live to triumph over her by a Christian -marriage. The idea was insupportable. - -Up to this point, Chione had kept herself unfettered from human -ties since Magas had departed. She had loved Magas, and though -many had made her offers of marriage, she could not resolve to -accept them. Magas was alike elegant and profound. Who was worthy -to succeed him? Athenian after Athenian paid court to her; gay, -witty, and attractive to all, Chione accepted none. This was a -matter of great wonder in so licentious a city as Athens. - -But a greater wonder still was to ensue. A new Roman praetor -arrived. A rude barbarian he seemed to the fashionables of -Athens: certainly he was not distinguished for refinement, for -learning, or for elegance; but it was soon observed that Chione -held him enthralled, and, what was more remarkable, that she -seemed to favor him. - -How it happened, people could hardly tell, but a different spirit -seemed animating Athens. The Christians, from being despised were -becoming feared, and at length hated. When Nero's edict had been -first made known, it made little impression; but gradually a -voice was found, to proclaim that there were Christians in Athens -practising magic to the detriment of all good citizens. - -A few poor slaves were seized and brought before the praetor; -they were ruthlessly condemned on acknowledging themselves -Christians. People were startled, but poor slaves have few -friends, and the matter blew over. Suddenly the praetor grows -more religious, decrees foreign to the usual spirit of Athenian -government are enacted; a test is instituted, and several free -citizens of Athens have to abide the scrutiny; executions follow, -and Chione's reputation suffers, for it is currently reported -that it is she who instigates the inquiry and persecutes the new -sect. - -The Roman praetor evidently takes counsel of her. But there comes -one concerning whom even he hesitates; a young lady, daughter of -a philosopher, one beloved for her private virtues, is brought -before the judge. "Sacrifice to the genius of the emperor." "I -cannot." "Why not?" "I am a Christian." How often have the words -been repeated; they are so simple, yet so fraught with -consequence; how many perished under that simple interrogatory! -Lotis undergoes it; she is remanded; the praetor seeks to release -her; he is sick of his office when it hits upon the young, the -innocent, the lovely; the outside interests him, he cannot see -the soul. Faith, ever young, has sustained many an aged slave, -wrinkled with age; has adorned many a worker embrowned and -toil-worn, bearing marks on his frame that his life has not been -spent in uselessness; but these excited only a passing interest, -if any--they were common people (would that the toiling saints -were more common!) they went to their doom, by fire or by the -headsman, unmarked by men and unpitied, though Heaven assumed -their souls with hymns of joy, dressed them in white garments, -crowned them with brilliants, endowed them with perpetual youth -and with beauty that never will fade. But here comes a lady. The -praetor understands that she has slaves to wait upon her, every -luxury attends her; she may lead a life of indolence, if she -pleases. These are the exterior signs, the signs that awaken -commiseration. The praetor hesitates. -{264} -Chione does not hesitate. The prisoner is not only a Christian, -she is a member of a conspiracy just laid open to Chione's -apprehension. She has lived in the city longer than the praetor, -she knows its dangers. This Lotis is a dangerous person, she is a -personal enemy to Chione; she must die; nay, Chione names the -manner of her death; she is to die by fire. The praetor, -infatuated by his passion for the guilty woman who prescribes to -him the sentence he is to pronounce, submits, gently hinting that -he looks for his reward. "Reward!" says Chione to herself, "is -not a smile from me reward enough for a barbarian like him?" And -in her egotism, she really believes she is speaking the simple -truth. - -The sentence is pronounced; horror seizes the city; to-morrow the -flames are to consume the conspirators, who are many in number; -and Lotis is among them; there is no escape. - -The ancient bishop contrives, however, to visit his condemned -flock, bearing consolation, courage, and, above all, the blessed -sacrament, with him. To each and all he addressed himself -according to their needs; if he, too, staid a little longer with -Lotis than with the others, it arose out of a previous -conversation, and because he wished to promote a holy work. - -"My daughter, do you know who has stirred up this accusation -against you?" - -"I rather guess than know it, father. What have I done to draw -down Chione's hatred?" - -"She is jealous of Magas in your regard. She cannot appreciate -the depth of Christian devotedness; she can understand selfish -aims alone." - -"Poor Chione!" - -"Do you, from your heart, forgive her?" - -"I have not thought about forgiveness; I pity her too much." - -"Do you remember the conversation we had years ago?" - -"About laying down my life for her? Father, I do." - -"Are you willing to do so now?" - -"If I thought it would save her soul, I am more than willing." - -"Pray for her, then, my daughter." - -...... - -'Twas a wild shriek that rang through the streets that morning, -as Magas arrived just in time to see the procession set forth, to -recognize Lotis, to hear Chione's name as the one who had -procured her condemnation. "Stop, stop!" he had cried to the -Roman soldiery; "stop! It is all a mistake; stop! In a few -minutes it will be rectified. Stop for a short time, in the name -of all that is holy!" Had Magas donned his patrician's dress and -scattered largess, as in times of yore, his words would have been -heeded; a few minutes would have been granted. Even now, his air, -his manner, his authoritative gestures occasioned a slight pause; -but his weather-stained appearance caused him to be considered as -a plebeian, and the pause was not long. He flew rather than ran -to Chione's abode. "Come," said he, "it seems you are omnipotent -in Athens; come and prevent a murder." He dragged her with him to -the praetor's house, but the great man was absent. A bright flame -lit up the sky! "My God, if we are too late!" he cried. Almost -carrying Chione in his arms, Magas hurried through the streets, -till they came to a place set apart for the execution. It was -already commenced; singing hymns of glory to God, one soul after -another departed homeward. Magas paused opposite to Lotis; she -made a sign of recognition. Magas turned to Chione. "Are you a -devil," he shrieked, "that you have dared to do this?" "Forgive -her, Magas, as I forgive her," said the dying Lotis. "Farewell, -Chione! Friends we were in youth, and we shall yet meet in -heaven." Lotis was gone. - -{265} - -"Meet in heaven! meet in heaven! meet in heaven! I and Lotis meet -in heaven! meet in heaven! Magas, tell me, Magas, can it be?" - -The brain of Magas was on fire with excitement, and he held a -murderess in his arms; but he was a Christian priest, and he -answered solemnly: - -"God is merciful; Christ died for sinners. Do penance; it may be -yet." - - - Conclusion. - -Very many years have passed away, and if the dignity of person is -considered, a more solemn martyrdom than the last we have -commemorated is to take place. The venerable bishop and his -companions, some priests, some laymen, are to lay their heads -upon the block--among them Magas. A woman veiled, bearing but few -remains of beauty or of youth, was also there; but not a -prisoner; she was there to kneel at the bishop's feet, to pray -for his blessing. That morning, for the first time for long, long -years, had that woman knelt within a Christian church--had -received the adorable sacrament of the body and blood of our -Lord, after years of penance heroically, _lovingly_ -performed at the entrance to the building. That morning she had -been absolved, that morning communicated. Ere he went to his home -in heaven, the venerable bishop, who had sustained the fainting -and often faltering soul through so many years of expiation, had -thought fit to pronounce her purified, to command that she should -again take her place among the faithful. She came to thank him; -to accompany him--him and Magas! Consoled, the procession moved -along. Chione--such was the name of the penitent--knelt as the -victims knelt. The bishop, ere he surrendered himself, gave his -blessing to all the assembly. Magas preceded him to the block. -When the axe fell, the woman fell also. Magas and Chione stood -together before the judgment-seat of God. - -------- - - Translated From Le Correspondant. - - Abyssinia And King Theodore. - - By Antoine D'Abbadie. - - -A Spanish bull having accidentally strayed on a railroad, which -spoiled the beauty of his beloved country, met a locomotive. The -king of the pasture-lands, fired with anger at the violation of -his right, and listening only to the voice of his courage, -lowered his head and butted with his horns so accustomed to -victory against the mail-clad invader of his verdant fields. This -battle is an image of that which is going to take place between -England and Theodore, King of the Kings of Ethiopia. It is plain -that it is not Theodore who represents the locomotive. - -{266} - -Before explaining the true motives of the costly English -expedition to Abyssinia, it may be well to look at the physical -and moral condition of the country which is to be the scene of -conflict, and where I passed more than ten years of my youth. - -The whole extent of territory from Suez and Aquabah to the Strait -of Mandeb, or _affliction_, along the shores of the Red Sea, -is barren and desolate. The small, scattered towns in this region -owe their existence to commercial travelling; and even in the -most favored portions of the land it takes a two or three days' -journey from the salt water into the interior, before meeting -cultivated fields. - -The only deep bay in the south of the Red Sea is that of Adulis, -which the natives designate by the "Gulf of Velvet," perhaps on -account of the smoothness of its waters, sheltered by the -palisades which guard it on the eastern side. The English, who -are fond of baptizing territories before conquering them, have -called this part of the sea, "The bay of Annesley." This name is -said to be that of the family of Lord Valentia, who, little -versed in geography, imagined that he had discovered in 1809 -those celebrated districts anciently frequented by Egyptian -merchants in the time of the Ptolemies. The island of Desa, -formed by a row of schistous hills, shelters the entrance to the -bay of Adulis, which we call by this name in memory of that -flourishing city of Adulis, which stood by its waves up to the -sixth century of our era. The natives still show the site of that -Grecian city, and inform the traveller that it was swallowed up -by an earthquake. Of its past greatness, there remain but a small -number of carved capitals in the lava of the environs, and some -sculptured marbles which seem to display the Byzantine style. -Near these ruins is the large village of Zullah, which contained, -in 1840, two hundred and fourteen cabins, and a population of -about one thousand souls. It is from Zullah that the shortest -route lies to the plains and highlands of Ethiopia, or, as the -English call it, Abyssinia. - -Except during January and February, when the weather is still -warm, Zullah suffers from the frightful heat which pervades the -whole of that stretch of low land called Samhar, which lies along -the sea. Wishing to take a bath during the summer, I could not, -by reason of the seeming excessive coldness of the water. But -placing a thermometer in it, I found the temperature 36 degrees, -while in the shade the air was at 48 degrees. I found it at 65 -degrees in the between-decks of a French steamer; and when -evening brings a refreshing breeze to cool this burning -atmosphere, one is tempted to say with a Frenchman after having -escaped during the bloody "reign of terror:" "I have done a great -deal, for I have managed to live." - -Travellers at this season start at midnight, and traverse, on -their way into Ethiopia, a plain as barren as desolation itself. -Sometimes they encounter the _Karif_, an atmospheric column -of a red brick color, which appears on the horizon like a living -phantom. This column seems to increase in volume as it -approaches, the air that drives it along roaring like a -whirlwind. Man and beast are obliged to turn their backs to it, -and it covers them with a dry, black cloud, as with a mantle of -horror. In a few minutes the _Karif_ passes away; and men -are glad to be out of its hideous gloom, even though it be but to -wander again through that intense but quiet heat which broods -over the Samhar. Sometimes, also, the _Harur_, which the -Arabs call the _Simoom_ or _paison_, surprises the -traveller. -{267} -This wind comes without any previous sign of warning, belching -out burning death like a furnace. The patient camel then puts his -head on the ground, rejoiced to find relief even in the relative -freshness of the scorching earth; the strongest of the natives -succumb; and such is the sudden and complete prostration of human -strength during the simoom, that in the open country I have been -unable to hold up a small thermometer, to learn at least the -temperature of this strange wind, which science has as yet failed -to explain. This Harur lasted five minutes. They say that men and -beasts die if it lasts a quarter of an hour. - -After crossing those desert plains, the traveller finds the -country gradually assume an undulating character. A stream is -met. Mountains rise up before him, and deep, verdant valleys -extend among them. - -I often visited those valleys with, the vain hope of seeing a -phenomenon very rare in Europe. During the summer season caravans -repose or march in perfect safety under a serene sky, when -suddenly the practised ear of a native hears a strange noise in -the distance, rapidly increasing in loudness. He cries out, "The -torrent!" and climbs breathlessly up the nearest height. In less -than half a minute after, the whole valley disappears under a -broad and deep stream, which carries with it trees, pieces of -rock, and even wild beasts. Rising in an instant, those torrents -vanish in a day, and leave no trace of their passage, save ruins -of all sorts, and pools of stagnant water in the indentations of -the soil. The general nakedness of the mountains explains these -strange phenomena. From the bottom of the funnel in which the -traveller stands when he is in one of those valleys, he cannot -see the small clouds which let fall their liquid burdens with an -abundance unknown out of the tropical climates. There is very -little loam, and still less of roots of trees to absorb this -sudden rain; so that it rolls from rock to rock, as on a roof, -rushes through every little valley, and mingles in one common -river, as frightful as it is transitory. One day, as I arrived -just too late to behold it in all its grandeur, I found a -solitary individual, who, with a stupefied look, regarded the -still humid earth. "God save you," said I, "what news have you? -Where are your arms? Can a man like you remain without lance or -buckler?" "May you live long and well!" he replied. "The torrent -has carried away my lance, my buckler, my ass, my camel, and my -whole substance, my wife and my children. Woe is me! Woe is me!" -I then turned to my guide and asked him: "Does thy brother speak -truly?" "Doubtless," answered he, "and if the torrent came at -this moment, unless we were warned of its approach by the small -noise of which I have spoken, it is not the most swift-footed, -but the most lucky, who would be saved." Then turning toward the -son of his tribe--"May God console thee, my brother!" We all -repeated this pious wish, and continued our route, without being -able to give anything to this wretched man, for we had neither -victuals nor money; and from the summit of the neighboring hills -we could hear him repeating for a long time, "Woe is me! Woe is -me!" - -For more than two centuries the civilization and native wealth of -Ethiopia have been concentrated around Lake Tana. Just on its -shores stands Quarata, the largest city of oriental Africa--proud -of its sanctuary and its twelve thousand inhabitants. A little -further on is Aringo, the Versailles of the dusky kings. -{268} -Near it is Dabra Tabor, the capital, or rather the camp of the -last chiefs, as well as of the actual sovereign; and finally, on -a spur of mountain which projects to the south, appears -Gondar--the famous Gondar, which I have seen, still powerful, -although reduced to eight thousand inhabitants, only a fourth of -its former population. Of all the faults of King Theodore, that -which the Ethiopians will be least ready to forgive is his having -systematically burned the city of Gondar. Of seventeen churches, -only two have escaped this cool and useless cruelty of the -despot. - -The Ethiopians are a people of very mixed origin. Languages, -institutions, usages, and prejudices, even the shades of color -and the formations of the human body, are placed in strange -juxtaposition with one another. Except the Somal, who afford -instances of tall stature, the Ethiopians are of medium height, -have thick lips, white and well-formed teeth, and are of slender -frame. Their hair is curly; but straight hair, though rare, is -sometimes seen. The Semites have often the aquiline nose of the -Europeans. As to the color of the skin, all degrees, from the -copper color of the Neapolitan to the jet black of the negro, are -found. This latter color is often allied to European features. -There is an unconscious and natural grace in all the movements -and actions of the Ethiopians. Our sculptors might study their -gestures and drapery with profit. - -On the coast, to the north of Zullah, live the Tigre, whose -language, traditions, and customs entitle them to be considered -among the descendants of Sem, like the Hebrews and Arabs. The -same must be said of the Tigray, who inhabit the neighboring -plateau, and speak a kindred idiom to that of the Tigre. The -Amaras, more lively, more intelligent, and more civilized, live -in the interior, and use a language of Semitic origin, yet -modified by associations with the sons of Cham. This is the -language used by most European travellers, for it is commonly -employed by the merchant, by the learned, and in diplomacy. The -Giiz, or Ethiopian, closely connected with the Tigre, is the dead -language, the Latin of those distant countries. It is used in -quotations, in philosophical and religious discussions, and -sometimes to conceal the sense of a conversation from the vulgar. -From Tujurrah to the environs of Zullah, a common language, -entirely different from those which we have mentioned, unites all -the fractions of the Afar nation, often called Dankalis, but -improperly, for the Dankalas, the Adali, etc., are only tribes of -the Afar. The Sahos, who are the most numerous among the -inhabitants of Zullah, and extend along all the slopes of the -neighboring plain, consider themselves as strangers to the Afar, -and speak a distinct but affiliated dialect. Another idiom much -more important by the number of the nations who use it, has also -the same origin as the Afar tongue. We mean the Ylmorma used by -the Oromos, whose name in war is Gallei or Galla, and who, by -reason of their conquests, have extended their sway from the Afar -country as far as to the still unknown regions of interior -Africa. Called Gallas by all the Christians of Ethiopia, the -Oromos threaten, by their proximity, the stronghold of Magdala, -where the English prisoners have been awaiting for four years the -arrival of their avenging countrymen. - -A serious calculation of the population of any African nation has -never been made. As to the centres of population, a fatigued and -disgusted traveller, looking at them from a distance and but for -a moment, might state the census of such or such a city to be ten -thousand souls. -{269} -An optimist, on the contrary, might gravely affirm that at least -thirty thousand should be admitted as the correct number. It is, -in fact, almost impossible to form a proper estimate of the -population of Ethiopia. Considering its extent of territory, I -should say there are three or four millions in it, though if some -other traveller were to maintain that it contains six or eight -millions I could not refute his opinion, owing to the fact that I -do not know the proportion between the inhabited and the desert -portions of the country. - - - II. - -The Jews were formerly numerous in Abyssinia. There are not -eighty thousand of them left now, and they are gradually -disappearing under the influence of the powerful civilization of -the Amara. - -The origin of the Ethiopian Jews probably dates from the time of -the prophet Jeremias, when commerce was carried on between -Alexandria and Aksum. At a later period, similar facilities -brought to Ethiopia the first Christian missionaries. This -happened in the beginning of the fourth century, when the -inhabitants of Gaul, or France, were still plunged in the -darkness of paganism. The truth, however, progressed slowly in -Abyssinia; for the local Judaism, though notably separated from -that of the Hebrews, preserved its political power during five or -six hundred years, notwithstanding the wonderful efforts of -native missionaries, whose feasts and martyrdoms are still -celebrated in the country. Even up to the 14th century there were -pagans in it; and there are, very probably, some there still. - -After the Mussulman invasion of the fifteenth century, Islamism -filtered through Egyptian society. The Christianity of the -country became corrupt, and we can liken it to nothing better now -than to those lepers who abound in this part of Africa, whose -bodies are at first attacked in their extremities, and fall away -piecemeal. In the same way, her Christianity perished on the -frontiers of Ethiopia. Twenty years before our arrival among the -Tigre, they were Christians, or rather they lived in the -recollection of their faith; but without baptism or sacrifice, -and guided in their prayers by the descendants of their last -priests. They became Mussulmans under our eyes, with the -exception of their principal chief, who said, with a touching and -proud respect for ancient usages, that "a king ought to die in -the faith of his fathers." One becomes irritated on reflecting -that two or three fervent missionaries could have, at the -beginning of this century, rolled back the tide of advancing -Mohammedanism, by evangelizing or rather reviving that ancient -Christianity whose history goes back as far as St. Athanasius, -and which we have seen expire after ages of agony. - -If we study Christianity in the centre of Ethiopia, we find a -somewhat confused schism, but of all schisms the one least -removed from Catholic orthodoxy. The only dogmatic points which -we regret in this schism are the _one_ procession of the -Holy Ghost, which has been condemned among us only at a late -period, and the belief in only _one_ nature in Jesus Christ, -which is publicly professed by the African schools. But the term -in the Abyssinian vernacular which we translate by _nature_, -has such a vague and obscure signification that, if the word -could be destroyed, the schism would no longer exist. -{270} -It must be remembered that the Ethiopians do not understand the -art of defining; and when I restricted this ambiguous term -according to our method, they understood the dogma exactly as we, -and congratulated themselves on being, without knowing it, -attached to the same faith as Rome, that seat of St. Peter which -always commands their respect. - -What particularly distinguish their Christianity from ours, are -vicious or irregular practices. Like many of the Eastern -Christians, they allow the marriage of the clergy; but in the -abbeys, where there are professors, they allow no priest to say -Mass who is not a celibatarian by vow. "Among you," said an -Ethiopian who had visited Europe, "the important practice is to -go to church." "And among you," I answered, "the one thing -necessary is to prolong your fastings." One is tempted to say -that the active people of the West, and the slow and -repose-loving nations of the East, have made the principal merit -of a Christian to consist in _those pious exercises which cost -the least trouble_. - -It is impossible to leave this subject without saying a word -about the Dabtara, or secular clerics. They were organized by a -king who found himself, like many of his royal brethren in -Europe, very much embarrassed by those mixed questions, in which -the spiritual power seems to invade the domain of the temporal. -To keep the balance, between them, he created an intermediary -body, called the Dabtara. This order is filled from all classes -of society; and it possesses the usufruct of all the churches. It -alone takes charge of the temporal affairs of the church, and -frequently its members act as parish priests, which is a purely -temporal office in Abyssinia. The Dabtara hire by the month, -rebuke or dismiss the priest who says Mass. Their essential -function consists in singing in choir. This duty requires a -certain education. In Europe the music of our church hymns may be -changed, the words remaining unaltered. The contrary is the case -among the Ethiopians. Their music is traditional and sacramental, -and in every well-ordered church, the rhymed words of every hymn -are specially composed for every festival. The twelve Dabtara of -every church display their piety, wisdom, and especially their -wit in these productions. They use hymns learnedly ambiguous, to -criticise the bishop, to give a lesson to the head of the monks, -and even political hints to the sovereign. By recalling an act of -some personage of the Old Testament, they find occasion to -criticise the government of the city, to praise some Maecenas who -is expected to be present at the service, or even, if necessary, -to satisfy a personal grudge. When a Dabtara advances into the -choir to whisper into the ear of the principal chanter the hymn -which has just been written by the Dabtara, and which the singer -must know by heart, the other Dabtaras surround the composer, -examine the sense of the rhyme, and no matter what may be the -result of their investigation, they always congratulate the happy -author. Sometimes it is discovered that the hymn has not been -made by a member of the order, but by some young candidate in -distress, who, for a measure of meal, often sells to the wealthy -the fresh inspirations of his genius. - -After the teacher of plain-chant, the most important professor is -he who teaches grammar, the roots of the sacred language, its -dictionary, and particularly the art of composing -hymns. -{271} -After the lesson, the pupils spread over the lawn before the -church, repeat the precepts just heard from their professor, and -essay to make rhymes or compose hymns, which they afterward -recite to him in order to obtain the benefit of his criticism. As -in our middle ages, these scholars ask alms and live in misery; -often they are the only servants of their preceptors. Lively and -frolicsome, like our collegians, they play many tricks on their -fellow-students, but never on their teacher, whom they love and -almost worship. Having once chanced at Gondar to describe how my -college-fellows in France had eaten the dinner of their -professor, and left a sermon on fasting and patience on his -plate, I was met with such a torrent of invective, that I never -ventured on a repetition of the scandal. - -In Abyssinia, education is essentially public and gratuitous. As -all explanations must be made in the vernacular, which I spoke -but poorly in the beginning, I was obliged to have recourse to a -private tutor, and when I wished to recompense him for his -trouble, I was answered that science should not be sold like any -other vile merchandise, and that the honor of the teaching body -required knowledge to be transmitted gratuitously, just as it had -been acquired. The Ethiopian students are generally very -diligent. If they play truant, their parents bring them into the -church where the school is being held, and tie their feet -together with an iron chain. Sometimes this disciplinary measure -is ordered by the professor, and pupils are often seen who, -distrusting themselves, ask for those chains, which are not -considered symbols of dishonor. They are rarely worn by the -higher scholars. - -The university course of the Ethiopians is composed of four -branches, which might be compared to the four faculties of our -own. A fifth branch, devoted to astronomy and replete with -traditional ideas, has not been cultivated for some time past. I -knew the last professor of this science, who had only one pupil. -The other classes are occupied with the study of the New -Testament, the fathers of the church, civil and canon law, and -the Old Testament. This last requires an effort of memory of -which few Europeans are capable; for I have never heard but of -one man in the West who knew the whole Bible by heart. No one can -be a teacher in Ethiopia without knowing by heart the text of the -book he is to explain, the variations of four or five -manuscripts, and especially the ingenious commentary, sometimes -even learned, but always traditional and purely oral, on the -text. The degree of bachelor is unknown in that country; that of -doctor is given to the student who is chosen by his professor as -capable of explaining in the evening to his comrades the lessons -given in class in the morning. In the case of a doubt of his -capacity, the teacher is consulted, and his affirmation is -considered a sufficient diploma. Great attention and much -perseverance are required to make this system of unmethodical -education profitable. An aged professor informed me that he had -learned to read in three years. He spent two years afterward in -learning the liturgical chant, and five years in studying grammar -and in composing hymns. He learned how to comment on the New -Testament in seven years; and spent fifteen years on the Old -Testament, for the strain on his memory was very great. - -I have dwelt somewhat on the Ethiopian colleges because M. Blanc, -one of the English prisoners of Magdala, says expressly in his -narration: "The Abyssinians have no literature; their -Christianity is only a name; their conversational power is very -limited." -{272} -To this testimony, altogether negative, I oppose the statement -first made, and which I could prove and extend farther. I will -merely add that in Gojjam, as well as at Gondar and elsewhere, I -have held disputes with native. Christians, on religious, -philosophical, and other scientific subjects, and found them as -well informed as if they had been brought up in Paris or at -London. - -With rare exceptions, the regular clergy alone has preserved its -virtues and its _prestige_. The secular priests have lost a -great part of their importance by the singular institution of the -Dabtara. Yet the Ethiopians, jealous of their political -independence, and capable of preserving it by the natural -influence of their traditional customs, wish to keep religious -authority powerful and undivided. To avoid schisms, and as -several bishops can consecrate others, they recognize only one, -who must be of white race and a stranger to the country. He has -always been consecrated by the schismatical patriarch of -Alexandria; but, since the last consecration, I was assured that -the Abyssinians would make application elsewhere for the future. -The title of their bishop is abun. The last abun or aboona was -Salama, who having only a semi-canonical appointment, and besides -being addicted to all kinds of vice, had very little influence -over the inferior clergy or the people. Suspected by the -professors and hated by the Dabtara, he planted more thorns than -blessings in the hearts of his subjects. A Copt by birth, he at -first frequented the English Protestant school at Cairo, and -carried afterward to the convent where he made his vows such -doctrines of disobedience and incredulous opinions, that the -Patriarch of Alexandria thought it would be wise to exile him to -Ethiopia as abun, though he was under the canonical age. In fact, -the abun was more anxious for money than for the faith. He -received the 36,000 francs, which are usually given as a present -at the investiture of the Abyssinian bishop; and the patriarch -thus delivered up distant Ethiopia, too much despised by the -Copts, to the vices and vague doctrines of Salama. This ornament -of the episcopacy had no sooner arrived in his diocese, than he -devoted himself to commerce, especially to the traffic in slaves, -which is most profitable. His vices were such that our pen cannot -describe them. He told me himself that by mistake he had ordained -priest a boy only ten years old, and laughed heartily at the -trick played on him in his case. Having learned from Monseigneur -de Jacobis the cases which annul an ordination, I told them to -the professors of canon law. They kept silence in public; and -when I pushed them with questions, they all gave me this answer: -"Your objections are true; only, in the name of God, do not -scatter them among the Dabtara. Except the Masses said by old -priests ordained by the preceding abun, there are none valid, and -there is no holy sacrifice in Ethiopia; but the ignorance and -strong faith of the faithful will suffice before God for their -salvation." Abun Salama, busied with intrigues, in which he -thought himself very skilful, was nevertheless, only the tool of -the princes, who attached him to them in order to help their -political combinations. It was he who consecrated King Theodore, -who, after frequently insulting his consecrator, finally cast him -into prison, where he lately died. - -{273} - - III. - -No matter what the English prisoners may say to the contrary, the -Ethiopian soldiers are very brave, and fight fiercely if they are -well commanded. As in Europe during the middle ages, the flower -of their army is composed of cavalry. The battle is begun by the -fusiliers, who shoot well; but their importance had not yet been -comprehended by the native chiefs in my time. Soon the charge is -sounded, the cavalry rushes to the conflict, the victory is -quickly won, and the infantry, badly furnished with blunt sabres, -lances, and bucklers, hardly does anything but make prisoners. -Every soldier keeps all the spoils of those he may vanquish, -except the guns and blood-horses, which by right belong to the -general. During this latter phase of the victory, the -commander-in-chief, deserted by his eager soldiers, is left -almost unattended. In speaking with Ethiopian officers, I often -mentioned to them, but always in vain, how important it is to -have a body-guard for the commander. The first victory of Kasa, -now King Theodore, attracted attention to this necessity -afterward. Let us say a word here about the mother of this chief, -since she is involuntarily one of the remote causes of the -English expedition. This good old woman once did me a great -service, and in 1848, notwithstanding the recent elevation of her -son to royalty, she was still so polite as to rise at my -approach. She was then courted as a power behind the throne. But -a short time previously, she was the despised mother of Kasa, an -obscure rebel, living in misery, and reprobated by all. His poor -mother, in her old age, joined a religious order, and put on the -little white bonnet which is its distinctive sign. But she was -penniless. The convents had been robbed, and every one shunned -the mother of a rebel. She was finally compelled to turn vendor -of _koso_, a drug which the Ethiopians take six times a -year, to kill the tape-worm, with which most of the inhabitants -are afflicted. - -Kasa, the rebel of Quara, grew more powerful day by day, and the -proud Manan grew angry. Manan was the mother of Ali, the most -powerful prince of Central Ethiopia, and the real mayoress of the -palace of that _fainékant_ king who ruled at Gondar, only -within the precincts of his dwelling. Manan, desiring to be -called _ytege_, or queen, an exclusive title in that -country, caused the nominal king to be dethroned by her son, and -placed her husband, _Yohannis_, or John, in his stead. This -prince was an estimable man, and honored me with his friendship. - -In 1847, war was waged against the rebel Kasa. The soldiers of -Manan insulted their adversary. One gasconading cavalier -exclaimed, at a review: "Manan, my great queen, depend on my -valor, for I shall lead before you in chains this fellow; this -son of a vendor of _koso!_" But Kasa won the battle, and -chained the boaster in a hut, where, after a fast of twenty-four -hours, he received the following message from Kasa, delivered -verbally by a waggish page: "How hast thou passed the night, my -brother? How hast thou passed the day? May God deliver thee from -thy chains! May the Lord grant thee a little patience! Be sad -with me, for yesterday mamma remained at market all day, and -could not sell a single dose of _koso_. I have therefore no -money to buy bread for thee or for me. May God grant thee -patience, my brother! May God break thy chains! It is Kasa who -sends thee this message." The next day the officer received the -same message. On the third day the irony of the conqueror was -slightly changed. -{274} -After the usual salutations, the page joyfully informed the -captive that "Mamma had succeeded in selling a dose of -_koso_, and bought a loaf, which Kasa sends him." - -A few days after, I heard these details at Gondar. The -news-mongers praised the mockery; but they only half-smiled, for -the flower of society had fallen into misfortune. Then they -regretted the good king Yohannis, and suspected the still -undeveloped wickedness of the character of Kasa, the adventurous -rebel of Quara. I saw Kasa, or Theodore, frequently at Gondar in -1848. He was dressed as a simple soldier, and had nothing, either -in his features or language, which presaged his high destiny. He -loved to speak of fire-arms. He was about twenty-eight years old; -his face rather black than red; his figure slim; and his agility -seemed to arise less from his muscular power than from that of -his will. His forehead is high and almost convex; his nose -slightly aquiline, a frequent characteristic of the pure-blooded -Amaras. His beard, like theirs, is sparse, and his thin lips -betray rather an Arabian than an Ethiopian origin. Kasa conquered -all his competitors, became King of Ethiopia, and was consecrated -by the abun, taking the name of Theodore, to verify an old -prophecy current among the Jews and Christians, that a king of -this name should rule over the ancient empire of Aksum. But the -Ethiopians, like all people of mountainous regions, tenacious of -their independence, and accustomed to liberty, did not yield at -once to an upstart usurper, who owed his success less to ability -and valor than to good luck. - -In the beginning of his reign he acted with much clemency, owing, -it is said, to the happy influence exercised over him by his -first wife. When she died, he caused her body to be embalmed, -according to the custom of the Ethiopian princes of the race of -Solomon. Her coffin was carried after Theodore everywhere he -marched. A special tent was erected in the camp for her remains, -and the conqueror of Ethiopia was often seen entering it to -meditate on his past happiness, and ask of God, as it was said, -prudence and wisdom for the future. It is at this time that he -had real thoughts, though always eccentric, of a good government. -Civil divorce, and the consequent confusion of marriage, are the -plague-spot of Abyssinian society. They uproot the foundations of -the family, and are opposed to all ideas of order and stability. -Without understanding that a radical change in society cannot be -effected by a mere proclamation, Theodore decreed the obligation -of regular marriages, and the abolition of divorce. An able -statesman would have sought to destroy gradually, abuses of such -long standing. Another of his decrees did him equal honor, and -might have succeeded better, for he revived the old law of the -Ethiopians against the slave-trade. - -But the heart of man is fickle. Prince Wibe, falling into the -hands of the conqueror, recommended his daughter to the Dabtara -and monks of Darasge, his favorite abbey, where he had his family -burial vault. One day the faithful guardians of the spot saw a -band of soldiers rushing toward them. They thought it was Tissu, -a recent rebel. They immediately concealed the sacred vessels, -and for safety shut up the daughter of Wibe in the vault. Their -surprise was great when they found it was Theodore himself, who -was, according to custom, marching over his kingdom in quest of -insurgents. -{275} -He wanted to see everything; and when they refused to open the -cavern for him, maintaining that a tomb prepared for Wibe, who -was still a chained captive, could have no interest for his -conqueror, Theodore suspected some plot, and caused the stone of -the sepulchre to be removed. His surprise was great when, instead -of a coffin, he beheld a beautiful girl, bathed in tears, and in -the attitude of prayer. Theodore forgot his first love. He set -Wibe at liberty, and married his daughter. This union was not -happy. The _ytege_, or queen, having interceded to save the -life of a rebel whom she had known at the court of her father, -Theodore refused at first her request, and becoming angry, -finally struck her. In order to humiliate her the more, he made a -common camp follower his concubine. From this moment his decree -on Christian marriage became a dead letter, and the slave-trade -was renewed. Men must have stronger virtue than that of King -Theodore, that their good thoughts may bear full fruit. - - - IV. - -Let us here give some account of the English missions in -Ethiopia; for they have helped to bring about and inflame the war -now pending. M. Gobat, a Swiss Protestant, went as far as Gondar -about forty years ago, and acquired a knowledge of the language -of the country. After his return to Europe, he published a book -of such seeming good faith, that it deceived me at first, as it -must have deceived the English projectors of the missions. -Charity obliges me to write that M. Gobat, in giving an account -of his sermons to the people, has rather described what he -desired to say and the answers he would like to hear, than what -he actually said or heard. Without citing other witnesses of this -fact, that of an educated Dabtara will suffice, who was ignorant -of the existence of the Protestant missions. "Samuel Gobat," said -he, "was a prepossessing person, who deceived one at first. I, -who followed him, can affirm that he was really an unbeliever, or -that he pretended to be so. He proposed frightful doubts and -objections in matters affecting the Christian religion, but under -the form of hypotheses. He always began his strange assertions by -an _if_. Could he express them boldly? If he had, you know -that in Gondar, at least, he would not have been allowed to -continue, and he would have been denied a residence in our city." - -The missionary societies in England did not know this condition -of the Ethiopian mind, and influenced by the specious arguments -of M. Gobat, they sent him a re-enforcement of three ministers, -whom he left to return to Europe. They preached much more -honestly and openly than he in Adwa and Tigray, where they were -established. They were expelled in 1838, fifteen days before my -arrival in the country. Two of them then went to Suria, from -which they were also driven. With a perseverance worthy of a -better cause, they returned again to Tigray, and again to Suria. -Always exiled, they had at last the prudence, in 1855, to make no -further attempt at evangelizing the country. - -Seventeen years before this last date I met at Cairo a young -Lazarist priest, whom I persuaded to accompany me into Ethiopia, -to found a Catholic mission. He preceded me, went to Adwa about -eight days before the first expulsion of the Protestant -missionaries; and as my project seemed to him sensible, requiring -only time and patience to realize it, I brought letters from him -to Europe in 1838. -{276} -His holiness, Gregory XVI., favored our attempt, and sent two -missionaries to Ethiopia under the charge of Monseigneur de -Jacobis, who soon became known all through that region by the -name of Abuna Ya'igob. In spite of some imprudence, inevitable, -perhaps, in a country where there are such strange contrasts, he -succeeded beyond my most sanguine hopes, and when I left the -country in 1849, there were twelve thousand Catholics in it, and -many of the priests were natives. Last year an English account -gives the number as sixty thousand; for the influence of true -doctrines could not fail to be extended among a people so -intelligent as are the Abyssinians. Monseigneur de Jacobis helped -much to obtain this result, by his unchangeable mildness, and by -that personal influence which is always exercised by a priest -devoted to incessant prayer. - -The fate of the Protestant missions was different. The ministers, -instead of attributing their want of success to themselves, have -blamed the Catholics as the movers of their expulsion from -Ethiopia. Even the English Consul Plowden in his official report -says that Theodore, after perusing the history of the Jesuits in -Abyssinia, decided to allow no Catholic priest to teach in his -states. The English are fond of decrying the memory of the -Jesuits who taught in Ethiopia up to 1630. It is, however, very -singular that I never heard of this history, and that the most -learned anti-Catholic professors at Gondar never mentioned it to -me in our controversies. On the contrary, they spoke of Peter -Paez and his co-laborers with admiration mingled with regret, and -quoted touching legends concerning them. A little further on in -his account, Plowden, who seems ignorant of the fact that sermons -are unknown in Ethiopia, adds that Theodore prohibited all -preaching contrary to the Copt Church. We cannot expect that an -English soldier, more or less Protestant, should comprehend fully -religious questions; but although he was a mere soldier, he ought -to have known that Theodore was attached to one of the three -national sects, and had forbidden all other creeds, and condemned -Catholics as well as Protestants. - -It was in consequence of this decree that Monseigneur de Jacobis -was compelled to leave Gondar in 1855. This pious bishop went to -Musawwa, and there continued to govern his mission, which has -been left almost undisturbed by the natives for almost thirty -years. The chief proselytes of Gondar retired also to the shores -of the Red Sea, and the Protestant ministers, always on the -watch, imagined they had at length found a good opportunity to -teach in the capital. They went thither under the guidance of M. -Krapf, who, in default of other qualities, has at least uncommon -activity and persistence, but which have been so far sterile of -results. At their first expulsion in 1838, the four Protestant -missionaries left but _one proselyte in the whole of -Ethiopia_. This was a quondam pilgrim. He was going to -Jerusalem with an Ethiopian priest, who, falling short of money, -sold his companion into bondage. M. Gobat having ransomed him, -had no difficulty in inspiring him with hatred of the priests, -and of all their doctrines. We can only regard this single -convert as an apostate induced to desert his faith by resentment -and a spirit of revenge. Another young and intelligent Ethiopian, -after studying for years in the Protestant schools of Europe, -when asked, answered me frankly that the numerous dissensions in -religion witnessed by him among Protestants, had destroyed all -religious belief in his mind. -{277} -Religious England always believing, though erroneously, ought to -be startled by the consideration that her missionaries, real -mercenaries as they are, only succeed in propagating doubt and -incredulity instead of spreading the gospel. - -M. Gobat, who was somewhat of a diplomatist, in writing to King -Theodore, did not state his object to be the foundation of a -Protestant mission. He merely announced that skilful mechanics, -desiring to improve the physical condition of the country, wished -to settle in it. King Theodore, who was desirous of obtaining -blacksmiths, gunners, and engineers, to make cannon and mortars, -and build bridges and roads, gave his consent. M. Gobat hinted -that the workmen wanted the free exercise of their religion. -Theodore referred the matter to the abun, who, knowing the tricks -of his old teachers, bluntly told Mr. Sterne, one of the -missionaries, who spoke of his intention to convert the Talasa, -or native Jews, as the sole object of his coming to Gondar, "This -mission to the Jews is only a pretext to plot against the faith -of the Christians." Pretending not to take the hint, Mr. Sterne -repeated his assertion, and the king consented to receive the -English mechanics, who were to be the instruments in the hands of -the pious missionaries in "evangelizing" the barbarous -Ethiopians. But on the testimony of Mr. Sterne himself, and that -of other Protestants, the scheme was a complete failure. Many of -the "mechanics," or "pious laymen," became as immoral as any of -the natives. Besides, in violation of their solemn promise made -to the abun, the missionaries distributed, as Plowden informs us, -"hundreds of Bibles, and taught the great truths of salvation to -many pagans and Christians." We extract these facts from the work -of the Rev. Mr. Badger, considered a most trustworthy witness in -official circles in England. [Footnote 54] After a short stay at -Gondar, Mr. Sterne went to London, was made bishop, and published -a wordy volume containing but one fact worth noticing, namely, -the intrinsic proof that the author was ignorant of the most -ordinary customs of Ethiopia. By an imprudence which has cost him -dear, Mr. Sterne related the story of the vender of _koso_ -in his book. A former student of the English missionaries -informed Theodore of the fact, and the Protestants had reason to -feel bitterly that a man's friends often prove to be his greatest -enemies. - - [Footnote 54: _The Story of the British Captives in - Abyssinia_, 1863, 1864. By the Rev. George Percy Badger.] - - - V. - -The English government was indignant that its agent Plowden, as -it is known, should have been massacred on the highway near -Gondar. Theodore avenged his death, however, by the barbarous -slaughter of its authors and their associates. But the party of -the "saints" in England was not satisfied with this reparation. -Theodore was weak, and no match for England. It was safe, -therefore, to insult him. Had he been as powerful as the United -States, England would have been as loath to touch him as she is -afraid to refuse satisfaction to America for the ravages of the -Alabama on the high seas. She, however, suppressed the consulship -of Gondar, and sent Captain Cameron as her consul to Massowah, -under the protection of the Turkish flag. Captain Cameron was a -brave officer who had served in the Crimea, but he was no -diplomatist. -{278} -We all know that, as much from lack of this quality as from the -semi-barbarous habits of King Theodore, who thinks himself -all-powerful because he has been so successful in conquering -rebels in his own kingdom, Cameron and five other English -subjects, among them M. Rassam--another unskilful English -agent--and two Germans, were imprisoned at Magdala on the 8th of -July, 1866. - -Magdala, where the prisoners still remain, is a stronghold in the -Abyssinian highlands, 3,000 feet above the level of the sea, and -the climate there is less warm than in most parts of the torrid -zone. There are a church, a treasury, a prison, and huts in the -place, and a population of about three or four thousand persons, -of whom four hundred are prisoners of every description; a -garrison of six hundred sharpshooters and as many common soldiers -armed with lance and shield. Although this fortress is considered -strong by the natives, one of the prisoners writes that a single -shell would suffice to blow up a place which the Ethiopians have -looked upon as impregnable for three centuries. - -Besides the European prisoners at Magdala, Theodore keeps -fourteen others, mostly German mechanics, near his own quarters. -These artisans, exported at the expense of a Protestant -missionary society as "_pious laymen_" began their -evangelical labors as messengers of peace in a very extraordinary -fashion, by fabricating mortars and other engines of war. As for -the spiritual welfare of the Christians of Ethiopia, they looked -well to it by distilling bad brandy; and as for the temporal, -they drove the profitable trade of slave-mongers. This is what M. -Rassam, an Arabian, who turned Protestant to get employment from -the English government, tells us. He was nine years at Aden as -_lieutenant-governor_, and is considered one of the ablest -English agents in the East, if we are to believe the -parliamentary eulogium passed on him in a recent debate in the -House of Commons. The last account heard from this unfortunate -ambassador does not warrant the belief in his ability. The abun, -Salama, having died, M. Rassam advises the English to choose -another abun in Egypt, and put him at the head of the invading -army as a kind of palladium! This advice, if put into execution, -would be as absurd as if, on the death of Pius IX., Premier -Disraeli, imitating the policy of Pitt, and wishing to restore -the Marches to the Holy See, should send an army against the -Sardinians, with a pope at its head elected at Canterbury or -elsewhere, Jansenist or Catholic, no matter which, and should -expect all the Italians to respect him as sovereign pontiff. - - - VI. - -England has undertaken the Abyssinian expedition to preserve her -_prestige_ in the East, and she is determined to gain her -point. The dusky King Theodore, pretended descendant of Solomon, -cannot complain that he has not received diplomatic notice. When -the German who brought him the British ultimatum, told him that -if he did not deliver up the prisoners he would have both the -armies of England and France against him--"Let them come," said -Theodore, "and call me a woman if I do not give them battle." We -know not if there be more of folly or of intrepid valor in this -proud answer. In fact, notwithstanding the narrations of some -travellers, naturally suspected of exaggeration, the Ethiopians -have no idea of the military power of the Western nations, and -their king may believe that he is a match for them. - -{279} - -The Bay of Adulis, usually so silent, is now swarming with ships. -There were in it, a short time ago, seventy vessels, without -counting those of the Arabians and East-Indians. The English have -built two quays to assist the debarkation of troops. The English -have the Snider gun, which they pretend to be superior to the -Chassepot rifle. They have even forty elephants to frighten -Theodore. One of them, an elephant of good sense if ever there -was one, behaved himself so badly at the debarkation of the -troops, that he was sent back to Hindostan. - -England is determined to succeed. Instead of borrowing, she has -levied a tax of ten millions of dollars. She will need at least -six times that amount before the end of the war. Every English -prisoner to be freed will cost at least ten millions. But her -object is not merely the freeing of the prisoners, though she -asserts that it is. She has to provide water for sixty-five -thousand men and many beasts on the plains of Zullah, where, in -default of natural fresh water, the troops drink a distillation -of sea water. They need every day one hundred and eighty thousand -quarts to drink; and this quantity has been provided at the -enormous cost of twenty thousand dollars for every twenty-four -hours. To transport the munitions of war, mules were bought and -brought to Zullah from Egypt, Turkey, Spain, and France. The -English soldiers, not knowing at first how to manage them, tied -them with hay ropes. Many of the mules ate the ropes, escaped -into the desert, and were lost. A railroad has been built, -running from the sea to Sanafe, the first border station of -Ethiopia, a distance of almost one hundred miles. - -The line of march has been well chosen. The English could have -crossed the plains of Tigray, which are level and oppose no -obstacle; and then crossed through Wasaya without meeting any -noteworthy difficulty except the river Takkaze, and Mount -Lamalmo. Farther on, at Dabra Tabor, where Theodore usually -resides, they might have chosen either the plains of the Lanige, -or the cool and verdant hills of the Waynadaga territory as the -sites of their encampment. But this route is not the shortest. -Besides, the Wasaya begins to be unhealthy in the month of May, -and there is no forage as far as Wagara. - -The shorter route, which the English have taken, is by Agame and -Wag. On those elevated plateaux they may keep all their energy, -and they will find a territory less ravaged by civil war, and -good pastures. The distance from Zullah to Magdala is about the -same as from Paris to Lyons. But artillery is with difficulty -transported over many of the gullies on the route; and perhaps -for the elephants it will be found impracticable. But the leader -of the expedition, Sir Robert Napier, will not balk at these -details. He will push rapidly on to Delanta before the rainy -season, which begins about the 10th of July. According to the -prisoners, if he should invest Magdala at the beginning of May, -the want of water would soon force the garrison to surrender. If -the first rains have fallen before his arrival, the English will -occupy Tanta among the Wara Haymano, and from that point open -fire on Magdala. Soldiers living in huts, without casemates or -caverns, could not stand a day against the English guns. In, any -case, Magdala, the great Ethiopian fortress, will be taken, and -it will remain to be seen whether the troops will march to Dabra -Tabor to burn the camp of King Theodore, and kill him, or make -him prisoner. -{280} -Nevertheless, the use of diplomacy will not be despised. When -Theodore put M. Rassam in prison, with great protestations of -friendship, he promised him his liberty on the arrival of certain -machines and expert workers. England sent both to Massowah, but -required first the liberation of the prisoners without having -used any of those forms which render a contract binding in the -eyes of the Abyssinians. On his side, Theodore did not understand -the value of a simple signature. Besides, he had been deceived by -Plowden, who denied his character of consul, and cheated by the -denials of the Protestant missionaries as to their attempts to -proselytize the native Christians. He did not, therefore, believe -the protestations of the English. The want of a sensible agent -caused the failure of this negotiation, which might have -succeeded if more skilfully conducted. Moreover, the English -army, on entering the Tigray, issued a proclamation, of which the -_Times_ published a literal copy, as ridiculous in -_Amariñña_ dialect as in English. Besides, the language used -is almost unknown in Agama, where this document has been -published. The English officers do not seem to have known that a -proclamation is never published in Ethiopia in a written form. -But what will King Theodore, the pretended descendant of Solomon, -do? It is difficult to answer this question. The natives report -that Theodore is often out of his senses when he drinks brandy, -which the "_pious laymen_" of the Protestant mission -zealously manufacture for his _spiritual_ comfort. From the -very beginning of his reign, Plowden informs us that he -manifested symptoms of insanity. The English prisoners tell us -more explicitly that Theodore himself informed them that his -father was insane, and that he believed himself attacked with the -same disorder. Several traits in his conduct toward the -prisoners, and the massacre of one hundred of his own soldiers in -his camp, on mere suspicion, give gravity to the assertions. If -this be true, England has declared war against an adversary -unworthy of her dignity. In case of defeat, the only refuge for -Theodore is to retreat to his native province of Quara, on the -border of a terrible desert, breathing pestilence on all the -region around. Woe to the English soldiers if they attempt to -follow him thither! - -Of all the ancient empire of Yasu the Great, that Ethiopian Louis -XIV., Theodore has only Quara, that he can call his own. His -governors of the Tigra have been expelled by rebels, or have made -themselves independent of his authority. Gojjan has proclaimed -its independence; Wag also has risen in arms; Suria is free, and -gives asylum to all refugees. Yet these are regions but recently -subjected to the conquering arms of Theodore. Tissu Gobaze rules -the lower Tigray, Wasaya, Walguayt, Simen, Wazara, and as far as -Dambya, where Gondar stood before Theodore destroyed it. - -What then is left to this unfortunate tyrant, resisted at home by -numberless insurgents, and threatened by foreign force with -destruction? The Awamas, whose rights he has respected because -they know how to defend themselves, but who will seize the first -opportunity to rebel; Tagusa, Acafar, Alafa, and Meca stretching -along the Tana, but which he has made solitudes by his systematic -pillage; and finally Bagemdir, that beautiful portion of the -country, which obeys him with regret. -{281} -A disease, a slight cheek, or a courageous peasant, would be -sufficient to destroy Theodore, that royal meteor, which, after -shining for a few years, will soon be extinguished in the night -of oblivion. Considering the greatness of the English -preparations, we are led to suspect that she has the intention of -holding Northern Ethiopia after conquering it. Appearances seems -to favor this conjecture, and no matter what the English journals -may say, the idea is not of French origin. Plowden urged its -realization in his official letters thirteen years ago; Cameron -is in favor of it; and General Coghlan timidly hints its -practicability in his military monograph on Ethiopian affairs. -The English have been masters of Aden for the last thirty years, -and they wish to make the Red Sea an English lake. They desire -Ethiopia; for from it they could invade Egypt, where "King -Cotton" would rule in all his glory. They allege the case of -Algiers annexed to France in justification of their project. But -let it be observed that Charles X., who ransomed at his own -expense, the Greek slaves sold in the markets of Constantinople -and in Egypt, could not allow the Dey of Algiers alone to keep -French, Spanish, and English Christians in bonds; while the -English have never done anything to prevent the slave-trade in -Abyssinia. Many Christian slaves are annually bought within -gunshot of the British ships on the Red Sea, to be brutalized in -Mussulman harems. _England has never made an effort to stop the -traffic there_. Can we blame King Theodore then, who, -according to his degree of intelligence and power, wished to put -an end to this inhuman commerce, for saying with at least as much -modesty as her majesty's government has at command, "Which of us -two is the greater barbarian?" - ----------- - - New Publications. - - - St. Columba, Apostle of Caledonia. - By the Count de Montalembert, of the French Academy, - New York: Catholic Publication House, - 126 Nassau street. 1868. - -Irish ecclesiastical history is something unique in the world, -and presents to us the spirit of Christianity run into an -entirely new and original mould. The Celtic race, whose most -perfect and completely actualized type exists in the people of -Ireland, is a singular specimen of humanity, as it used to be in -the primitive ages just after, and perhaps long before the flood, -preserved, continued, and apparently incapable of being destroyed -or changed, in the midst of other races of totally opposite -character. The sudden and entire conversion of this people to -Christianity, and the invincible tenacity with which it has clung -to its first faith, together with the marked individuality of the -expression which it has given to the Christian idea, form a -phenomenon in history which cannot be too much studied or -admired. It was a happy moment for Ireland when that Chevalier -Bayard of Catholic literature, the Count de Montalembert, felt -his chivalrous soul moved by the story of her ancient princely -monks and dauntless, adventurous apostles, and set himself to the -task of writing a work which unites all the romantic, poetic -charm of the lyric strains of her bards, with the accuracy and -minuteness of her monastic chronicles. -{282} -His narrative, partly owing to the nature of his subject, and -partly to his own genius, is like the _Scottish Chiefs_ and -the _Waverley Novels_. The most striking, original, and -grand of all the characters depicted by him in that part of the -_Monks of the West_ which is devoted to Ireland, is St. -Columba or Columbkill. This great man, who was by birth heir to -the dignity of Ard-righ, or chief king of Ireland, the founder of -Iona, and the apostle of Scotland, is the favorite saint of the -Irish people after St. Patrick. He is a more thoroughly Irish -saint than the great apostle of Ireland, who was the father and -founder of the Irish people as a Christian nation, but was -himself, probably, by birth and extraction a Gallo-Roman. A -warrior, a poet, a chieftain, a monk, a statesman, an apostle, -and, it is supposed, a prophet; the most intensely devoted and -patriotic lover of his native island, perhaps, that ever lived; -and yet sentenced by his stern old hermit confessor to perpetual -banishment from it; the life of Columba overflows with all the -materials of the most romantic and heroic interest. - -The Life of Columba, whose title is placed at the head of this -notice, is, as we have implied already, a monograph extracted -from the great work on the _Monks of the West_, by -Montalembert. It is a small book of only 170 duo-decimo pages, -and therefore readable by almost everybody who ever reads -anything better than newspapers and dime novels. It is, above all -others, a book for every one, young or old, who has -Celtic-Catholic blood in his veins. It is time now to use that -English language which was forced by the haughty conqueror upon -the Irish people, from a cruel motive which God has overruled for -their glory and his own, as the means of diffusing the treasures -hidden hitherto, so to speak, under a _cromlech_. Those who -put this unwilling people into a compulsory course of English, -little thought what a keen-edged weapon they were placing in -their hands, and training them to use. They could not foresee -what use would be made of it by Curran, O'Connell, Thomas Moore, -Bishop Doyle, and Father Meehan. The possession of the English -language places the Irish people in communication with the whole -civilized world, without depriving them of their rich patrimony -of traditional lore, legend, and song. It is incumbent on all who -love the faith, and sympathize with the wrongs and hardships, of -the Irish people, to strain every nerve to increase the number -and diffuse the circulation of books, in which this religious and -patriotic tradition may be perpetuated. Wherever the Irish people -are, in Ireland, England, America, Australia, they are deriving -their intellectual nutriment more and more from English books; -and thus, in proportion as they become readers, are coming under -the influence of writers who write in the English language. It is -most important, therefore, for those who are charged with the -responsibility of watching over their religious, moral, and -intellectual culture, to see to it that their minds are not -flooded with an excess of purely secular literature, which has in -it no mixture of the Catholic tradition. The greatest danger and -misfortune of our rising generation of Catholics in America is -the lack of this tradition in historical, poetic, and romantic -literature. Even those who are the descendants of parents and -progenitors of the old Catholic stock, must necessarily lose by -degrees all vivid sentiment of any other nationality than the -American, and be more influenced by the _genius loci_ than -by any other genius, whether Celtic or Teutonic. The danger to be -guarded against is a peril of becoming so much Americanized as to -be reduced to a _caput mortuum_ in the process. An American -citizen, without faith and religion, even though he may be born -and live in Boston, is involved in the consequences of original -sin as well as others. It is no gain to transform a poor, simple, -believing, fervent Catholic immigrant, in the second or third -generation, into an intelligent, well fed, healthy animal, with a -comfortable farm and the elective franchise, but with no more -soul than the man with the muck-rake in the _Pilgrim's -Progress_, or those dirty heathen in the suburbs of the holy -city of New York, who spend their Sundays in weeding cabbages. -{283} -This deleterious change must be prevented, not only, by purely -spiritual means, but also by preserving and fostering as much as -possible the natural bonds which connect our youth of Catholic -origin with the traditions of their ancestry. Hence, we are in -favor of multiplying and circulating as much as possible those -books which relate the history of the Catholic Church of Ireland, -of her saints and prelates, her gallant chieftains and noble -martyrs, her sufferings and persecutions. The English Catholic -tradition, and the Scottish, are unfortunately broken. A dreary -gap of three centuries intervenes between the present and the -Catholic past; but in Ireland the continuity is perfect from the -fifth century to the present moment. This is the great artery of -life to the Catholic Church of the British empire and its -colonies, and it must not be severed. There is an intense -sympathy between the people of the United States and the people -of Ireland. This is chiefly a sympathy with their oppressed -condition as a people, and with their just demands for expiation -and redress for the wrongs they have suffered from the hands of -the British government. It would be prudent for the gentlemen of -the English parliament to take note of this, and to be wise in -time, by conceding all those rights and privileges at once with a -good grace, which Ireland is sure to obtain sooner or later, -whether parliament is willing or unwilling. This merely political -sympathy will, we trust, prepare the way for a higher and holier -sympathy with the faith, the constancy, the invincible fortitude -of the Irish people as a Catholic nation, the Spartans of a -sacred Thermopylae, who have immolated themselves to save the -faith. It is time that the American public should learn what is -the _Irish Version of the History of the Reformation_. This -presupposes a previous knowledge of the first planting and -cultivation of Christianity. When it is seen that the Irish -fought and died for the very same religion which was planted -among them by their first apostles, it will be easy to judge of -the claims which the religion of Elizabeth and Cromwell had upon -their submission. The labors of Montalembert are therefore -invaluable, as bringing to light the hidden treasures of Irish -ecclesiastical history, and in all his great work there is no -chapter to be found more charming than the biography of the great -patriarch of Iona. We conclude with the eulogium which Fintan, a -contemporary monk, pronounced upon St. Columba in an assembly of -wise and learned men, and which is justified by the history of -his life. "Columba is not to be compared with philosophers and -learned men, but with patriarchs, prophets, and apostles. The -Holy Spirit reigns in him; he has been chosen by God for the good -of all; he is a sage among all sages, a king among kings, an -anchorite with anchorites, a monk of monks; and in order to bring -himself to the level even of laymen, he knows how to be poor of -heart among the poor; thanks to the apostolic charity which -inspires him, he can rejoice with the joyful, and weep with the -unfortunate. And amid all the gifts which God's generosity has -lavished on him, the true humility of Christ is so royally rooted -in his soul that it seems to have been born with him." - ----- - - Ecce Homo. By the Right Hon. W. E. Gladstone. - Strahan & Co., London. G. Routledge & Sons, - 416 Broome street, New York. 1868. - -On the day of writing this notice, Mr. Gladstone is introducing -his motion for overthrowing that monstrous iniquity, the Irish -Establishment. We feel, consequently, especially well-disposed -toward him. Nevertheless, with all our respect for his talents -and character, we cannot help being reminded of his illustrious -countryman, that great ornament of the sea-faring profession. -Captain Bunsby. Our English brethren, when they take up solid -topics, appear to think laborious dulness and tedious obscurity -the evidence of deep learning and sound judgment. Their essays -are like those of collegians, who affect to write on political or -philosophical subjects in an extremely old-mannish, -old-cabinet-minister-like style. -{284} -This is remarkably the case with the venerable university dons -who advocate rationalistic opinions. The style of arguing adopted -by these worthy and dignified gentlemen bears a striking -resemblance to the movements of one who is carefully wending his -way among eggs. As an instance, we may cite the _Essays and -Reviews_, perhaps the dullest book ever written, unless the -_Treatises on Sacred Arithmetic and Mensuration_, by Dr. -Colenso, may be thought worthy to compete for the prize. The -_Ecce Homo_ is not to be placed in precisely the same -category. It is, nevertheless, in our humble opinion, a very -vague, wearisome, and unsatisfactory book. We cannot account for -its popularity in any other way than by ascribing it to the -restless, sceptical, misty state of the English mind on religious -subjects; the uneasy desire to find out something more than it -knows about Christianity and its author. After eighteen centuries -have rolled by, the question. Who is Jesus Christ? still remains -a puzzle to all those who will not submit to learn from the -teacher commissioned by himself. The author of _Ecce Homo_ -has endeavored to throw himself back to the time and into the -period of the disciples of Christ, to examine with their eyes his -words and actions, and from these to abstract a mental conception -of his true character. What that conception is, remains as much a -puzzle as the gospels themselves are to a rationalist, or the -Exodus to Dr. Colenso. The language of _Ecce Homo_ is -certainly irreconcilable with the definitions of the Catholic -Church respecting the divine personality of Christ. Some of its -statements respecting the nature of the work accomplished by him -on the earth, and the evidence thereby furnished of his divine -mission, are forcible and valuable, and perhaps to rationalists, -Unitarians, and doubters, the work may be useful. No one, -however, who understands Catholic theology, and believes in the -true doctrine of the Incarnation, can read it without a strong -sentiment of repugnance and dissatisfaction. Mr. Gladstone, -nevertheless, although professing to accept the Catholic doctrine -of the Incarnation, undertakes the defence of the book, and even -apologises for its most offensive passages. By doing this he -shows that he himself does not grasp the full meaning of the -formulas to which he gives his assent; and although he is not a -rationalist, yet, from perpetual contact with them, and the -influence of that halting, inconsequent state of mind produced by -Anglicanism, he has acquired something of that dark-lantern style -of which we have spoken above. There are gleams of light and -passages of beauty here and there, especially on those pages -where the author treats of the Greek Mythology as an imperfect -effort to realize the idea of Deity incarnate in human form. As a -whole, the essay, which is a mere review of another book, was -well enough for a magazine article, but not of sufficient -importance to warrant its publication in book form. Every person -who acknowledges the true divinity of Jesus Christ while -rejecting the authority of the Catholic Church, stands in a -position logically absurd, and is therefore incapable of -adequately advocating the cause of Christ and Christianity -against the infidelity of the age. No one but a Catholic, endowed -with genius, and fully imbued with the spirit of Catholic -theology, can ever write in a satisfactory manner upon the Life -of Christ, so as to meet that demand which causes the abortive -efforts of unbelievers and half-Christians to find such an -extensive circulation. - ----- - - On the Heights. A Novel. - By Berthold Auerbach. - Boston: Roberts Brothers. 1868. - -This volume, professing to be a translation from the German, is -most thoroughly permeated with German _mysticism_; one can -hardly give it the dignified name of theology. It carries one -back in its bewildering metaphysics to the days of _The -Dial_, when every girl of eighteen belonging to a certain -clique, was devouring Bettina's correspondence with Goethe, and -listening with rapt soul to lectures on "Human Life," from the -oracular lips of a favorite seer; discourses utterly beyond the -comprehension of the maiden's papa, but which she understood -perfectly. - -{285} - -We are led to wonder, in our republican ignorance, if people in -court life converse and act in the stilted, theatrical manner in -which they are here represented; every person being what in these -days would be called "highly organized." In this particular, and -in the tedium and repetition of court detail, we were forcibly -reminded of the voluminous works of Miss Mühlbach, with this -difference, that _On the Heights_ makes no historical claim. - -There are, however, very many sweet touches of nature in the -book, gems of thought; and now and then a rare pearl of good -counsel, near which, in reading, one involuntarily draws a -pencil-line, that they may be found again. Maternal love is -beautifully portrayed, both in high and low life, in the queen, -and in the foster-mother of the prince. - -The author evidently, knows but little of the Catholic faith, and -less of its results, since the life of the _religieuse_ is -continually referred to (with a slight sneer) as "_a life in -which nothing happens_." - -We close this volume with a sensation of weary sadness; there -seems to run through its pages "the cry of that deep-rooted pain, -under which, thoughtful men are languishing," like the distant -tones of an AEolian harp wafted on the night breezes. There is a -reaching forth in these mystic yearnings for the good, the true, -and the _enduring_, which the priceless gift of faith alone -brings to the weary and heavy-laden, in submission to God's -appointed teacher, the church. - -The mechanical execution of the work is excellent, the type -clear, and the double-columed pages furnish a vast amount of -reading in a small compass. - ------- - - Chemical Change in the Eucharist. - From the French of Jacques Abbadie. - By John W. Hamersley, A.M. - -Jacques Abbadie was born in Switzerland, in 1654; "studied at -Saumur," writes Mr. Hamersley in his preface, "was doctorated at -Sedan, and installed pastor of the French (Huguenot) Church of -Berlin, at the instance of Count d'Espence." - -He left his pastorate, became chaplain to Marshal Schomberg, and -came to England with William of Orange in 1688. After Schomberg's -death, in the battle of the Boyne, Abbadie was presented to the -deanery of Killaloo, in Ireland, where he died in 1727. - -His book against transubstantiation in the Eucharist, is such as -might be expected from the literary leisure, taste, learning, and -piety of one of Schomberg's exemplary camp-followers. We read the -book with the hope of finding some objection in it worth a -refutation; but we have found nothing but the stale, oft-refuted -arguments of Protestants against the real presence. Led by the -title of the work, _Chemical Change in the Eucharist_, we -expected to meet some profound chemical discoveries that should -at least seem to contradict Catholic belief. But there is not -one. There is not even an allusion which would show the author to -be conversant with chemistry or any of the natural sciences. -Abbadie argues against the Catholic exegesis of the sixth chapter -of St. John, and against the words of consecration, "This is my -body," in the usual Protestant way. He insists that Christ's -words are to be taken figuratively; while Catholics claim that -they are to be taken literally. - -One general answer will do for all heterodox interpretations of -Scripture on this and on other points. If Protestants urge that -private reason is the supreme judge of Scripture, how can they -deny to Catholics the right to use it? And if the private -judgment of Catholics finds that Christ spoke of a real presence -in the Holy Eucharist, and that his words are to be taken in -their plain, literal signification, why should Protestants -object? In point of fact, Catholics do admit private judgment, -properly understood, in the interpretation of Scripture. They -affirm that the interpretation of the church or of the fathers is -identical with the rational exegesis. -{286} -The interpretation of Protestants is _not_ a rational -interpretation, and does not give the true sense of Scripture. -They misinterpret the Scriptures by an _abuse_ of private -judgment. They gratuitously assume that Catholic interpretation -is contrary to the rational sense of the Bible; while Catholics -hold that their interpretation alone is rational. As a prudent, -sensible man, when he meets with a difficult passage in Homer or -Sophocles, consults the best commentators to aid him in -discovering the true sense; so, for a much greater reason, should -a Christian seek an authoritative explanation of those hard -passages of Holy Writ "which the unstable and unlearned wrest to -their own destruction." One who denies that there are difficult -texts in Scripture can never have read it. From the first text of -Genesis to the last in the Apocalypse, the Scripture is replete -with difficulties, which even the most learned commentators do -not always succeed in explaining. - -All Abbadie's scriptural arguments against the real presence may -be, therefore, met with one remark. He explains certain texts in -a figurative sense. Catholics, however, interpret them to mean -what they plainly and literally express. Catholics do not need in -this case to appeal to the authority of the church or to the -fathers. Christ says, "This is my body;" Catholics believe him. -Christ says, "My flesh is meat indeed;" Catholics believe his -words. Abbadie and his sect admit that Christ says, "This is my -body;" that he affirms his flesh to be meat indeed; yet they will -not believe him. Who authorizes them to contradict the express -words of Christ? We ask _impartial_ reason to judge between -Catholic and Protestant in this controversy. - -But where Abbadie shows his complete ignorance of the first -elements of the higher sciences is in "Letter Fourth" of his -book, p. 98. We quote from Mr. Hamersley's translation. "_All -our ideas of faith rely solely on sense;_ and their value to -us is measured by its certainty; and to faith, which is a -conviction of divine truth, there are four essentials: God -exists; he is truthful; he has revealed himself; each mystery of -our faith appears in such revelation. Sir--it is noteworthy--that -the _senses are the sole channels of all those truths, and -their_ SOLE _vouchers_." Again, "Thus the _senses are -the media of all evidence_." (P. 99.) The materialism of -d'Holbach, Cabanis, Helvetius, and Condillac is identical with -this doctrine of the doughty dean of Killaloo. If the senses -"_are the sole channels of truth_," instead of being the -mere occasions of reflection, then the whole order of -intelligible ideas, the ideas of God, spirit, and cause, are -illusions. The senses can only tell us the sensible or -phenomenal. Now, as the ideas of God, cause, spirit, truth, -justice, goodness, substance, etc., are all supersensible, they -cannot come from the senses. If the senses "_are the media of -all evidence_," the only things we can know are modes or -phenomena, colors, forms, sounds, etc. The senses tell us nothing -more. We must, therefore, deny the existence of God, of truth, of -goodness, cause, substance, etc.; and turn atheists, pantheists, -sceptics, or materialists, as all who logically follow out -Abbadie's or Locke's metaphysics really become. The philosophy of -the warlike chaplain of Schomberg's army is thus shown to be -essentially immoral. - -Did Mr. Hamersley know this when he translated the book? We think -not, for he is evidently too innocent of logic and too ignorant -of truth to be able to understand fully even the arguments of the -superficial dean of Killaloo. - -We shall make good our assertion by quoting a few of Mr. -Hamersley's own references: "In 1845, the pope made the -Immaculate Conception a part of the Roman creed and a condition -of salvation." (P. 113.) The gentleman probably was thinking of -the pope's decree of 1852. - -"A.D. 597, Gregory I. instructs St. Augustine to accommodate the -ceremonies of the church to heathen rites." (P. 125.). - -"The Maronites, _originally Monothelites_, protected by the -Emperor Heraclius, are now incorporated in the church of Rome." -(P. 126.) - -{287} - -"A.D. 1295, Boniface VIII. confines ex-pope Celestine V. in _a -cell about the size of his body_, lest he may elect to resume -the pontificate he has resigned--guards him night and day with 6 -knights and 30 soldiers. Celestine dies of cruelty." (P. 129.) - -"Gregory VII. threatens to anathematize all France, unless King -Philip _abandons simony_. (P. 135.) This was one of -Gregory's _crimes_ in the judgment of Mr. Hamersley. - -"Alexander VI. (Borgia) is elected pope--his Holiness is -forthwith _adored by the cardinals_:" (P. 143.) What -idolatry! - -"_Penance--a sacrament by which venial sins, committed after -baptism, are forgiven._" (P. 146.) - -"The Nestorians were excommunicated A.D. 431, for holding, among -other views, two natures of Christ." - -"The Council of Chalcedon, A.D. 451, confirmed the doctrine of -the two natures of Christ, which the church had repudiated." (P. -148.) - -As instances of schisms in the church, the _learned_ -translator cites the following: "Dominicans and Franciscans--on -immaculate conception." "Thomists and Scotists--efficacy of grace -and immaculate conception." "Jesuits and Jansenists--on the -doctrine of grace." (P. 150.) - -"Dec. 17, 1866, the _leading Romanists of the Council of -Baltimore_ invite the pope by letter to visit the United -States." (P. 157.) - -"Jesuit pestilence." (P. 159.) "_Plague-spots--Roman Catholic -churches and institutions_." (P. 160.) This is a good instance -of Mr. Hamersley's rhetoric. - -"The Papal Church in the United States _has recently adopted -the title of Roman Catholic_." Evidence: "It appears in large -iron gilt letters over the gate of the asylum in Fifth avenue, -New York--_Roman Catholic Male Orphan Asylum_." (P. 160.) -_This is one of the plague-spots_! - -These are but a few of the literary beauties to be found in Mr. -Hamersley's additions to Abbadie. A Catholic could afford to -smile at both the original and his translator, if, unfortunately, -there were not found many persons so credulous as to believe -their falsehoods. The original work of Abbadie is tolerable. He -attempts to argue; and we have no doubt his military logic was -satisfactory enough to the square-headed soldiers of Schomberg's -army. Besides, when Abbadie wrote, civilization had not arrived -at such a degree of progress as it has now attained. But Mr. -Hamersley writes his falsehoods _now_. His ignorance and -fanaticism, of which we have culled but a few of the many -instances in his book, _are of our own day_. We cannot -understand why he should repeat them, since there is hardly any -moderately educated Protestant who does not know that most of his -allegations are false. If there be any so dull or fanatical as to -believe them, we feel for them more of pity than contempt. - -In conclusion, we regret that the translator does not show as -much good sense or taste in choosing the subject as the -publishers manifest in the binding and printing of the work. We -are sorry to see such fine print wasted on a bad, worthless book. -Mr. Hamersley could have found nobler themes in foreign -literature, even though they might be the productions of -Protestants, to exercise those talents as a translator which he -has failed to show as a lover of truth, a logician, or a man of -good sense. - ------- - - Life in the West; or, Stories of the Mississippi Valley. - By N. C. Meeker, Agricultural Editor of the New - York _Tribune_. New York: Samuel R. Wells. - -"A long residence in the Mississippi Valley, frequent journeys -through its whole extent, and years of service as the Illinois -correspondent of the New York _Tribune_, have furnished the -materials for the following stories." Hence, it is almost -unnecessary to state that their claim to our careful -consideration rests upon something more substantial than the fact -of their being pleasingly told, varied in incident, and -unobjectionable in tone. Their real worth, and it is not slight, -arises from this, that they are made the agreeable medium of -conveying much valuable information concerning "life in the -West;" no less the hardships unavoidably to be endured by the -emigrant, the difficulties to be overcome, and the dangers to be -encountered, than his almost assured ultimate triumph. - -{288} - -Of general interest, but designed especially for those intending -to emigrate, is the appendix, containing a brief description of -the soil, climate, products, area, and population of each State -and territory lying in the great Valley of the Mississippi; and -also the locations of the several land-offices where application -must be made and all needful information can be obtained. - ----- - - Mozart: A Biographical Romance. - From the German of Heribert Rau. - By E. R. Sill. New York: Leypoldt & Holt. 1868. - -A poor translation of a frothy production. On the first page, the -child, Mozart, is called a "three-years-old son." Mr. Sill -evidently does not know that a three-year-old is English for -colts and heifers. Mozart's sister is also denominated a -"seven-years-old." The writer, if Mr. Sill has translated him -correctly, is exceedingly ignorant, or worse. On page 54 we read: -"They sought the pope's chair," (that is, the worshippers -crowding to St. Peter's for the services on Maundy-Thursday,) -"partly because it was the fashion, partly because they wanted to -be on hand to see everybody else do it, and partly because, to an -Italian, a hundred days' absolution in advance is always a -pleasant and convenient thing to have." The recitation of the -Tenebrae, in the evening, is called, on page 58, "the performance -of Mass." Would it not be well for our enterprising publishers in -this enlightened country, to employ a proof-reader who has -received a passable education? - ------- - - The Great Day; or, Motives and Means of Perseverance - after First Communion. - Translated from the French by Mrs. J. Sadlier. New York, 1868. - -A pretty and good little volume, intended for a gift to children, -as a memento of the happy day of their first communion. We have -only one criticism to make, which is, that its tone of thought is -too foreign. We wish that the accomplished translator had made -use of the original French only, as matter from which to compile -a delightful little book under this title, (a task which she -could so admirably perform,) suitable, in the freshness of its -thought, to the minds of American children. In lieu, however, of -the wished-for better book of Mrs. Sadlier's, we heartily -recommend this present volume to the attention of all pastors, -parents, and superintendents of Sunday-schools, who will find in -it, we are sure, just what very many of them have long desired to -procure as a worthy memento for "The Great Day." - ------- - - Tales from the Diary of a Sister of Mercy. - By C. M. Brame. - New York: Catholic Publication Society. 1868. - -We all remember _Passages from the Diary of a Late -Physician_, by Dr. Warren, and the intense interest everybody -felt in these sketches of the tragic scenes with which the -persons whose profession leads them among the sick, the -suffering, and the dying are familiar. This book is on a similar -plan, and is composed of graphic descriptions of what a Sister of -Mercy may be supposed to see and observe in her charitable -ministrations. The light of the Catholic religion thrown in among -these painful, tragic scenes, relieves their shadows, and leaves -a more healthful impression on the mind; in short, becoming their -pathetic effect. Those who love sensation stories will find their -taste gratified in this volume, and, at the same time, may be -able to derive from it some good moral and religious lessons. - ------- - -We regret that a notice of _The First Report of the Catholic -Sunday-School Union_ was crowded out of the columns of this -number. It will appear in our next.--Ed. C. W. - ------------------------ - -{289} - - The Catholic World. - - Vol. VII., No. 39.--June, 1868. - --------- - - Edmund Campion. - -In the spring of 1580, Elizabeth being then queen of Great -Britain, and England being in the midst of the turmoil which -accompanied the final establishment of Protestantism as the -religion of the realm, two expeditions set out from Rome, to -restore the faith in the British isles. One consisted of two -thousand armed soldiers, enlisted as a sort of crusaders, and -animated by the papal blessing and the promise of indulgences, -not to speak of the visions of worldly glory and profit which -even soldiers who fight under consecrated banners are apt to find -alluring. The other was composed of less than a score of -missionaries, Jesuits, secular priests, and others, whose most -enticing prospect was one of martyrdom. The soldiers were to land -in Ireland and help the rebellion of the Geraldines. The -missionaries were to penetrate in disguise into England, and -exercise the ministry of the proscribed and persecuted faith in -the secrecy of private houses and hidden chambers. - -Looking at the history of those times in the light of subsequent -experience, it seems hard to account for the policy which could -imperil not only the lives of the missionaries, but the cause of -the church, by complicating the peaceful embassy of the priests -with the mission of war and insurrection. For it was no secret -that the troops came from Rome, and that large subsidies from the -Roman treasury were sent with them. Associated with them, too, -went an eminent ecclesiastic. Dr. Saunders, with the functions of -a legate. We must remember, however, that the accession of -Elizabeth had never been popularly acquiesced in. Her legitimacy -had never been generally acknowledged. Her reign thus far had -been a series of rebellions. The party which opposed her had a -fair title to the character of belligerents, and the continental -powers which espoused their cause were only doing what, by the -customs of the age, they had a perfect right to do. The pope had -issued a bull, excommunicating the queen, absolving her subjects -from their oath of allegiance, and even forbidding them to obey -her; and although he had afterward so far modified the bull as to -permit the English people to recognize her authority, _rebus -sic stantibus_, "while things remained as they were," he had -never ceased, in conjunction with other European powers, to -promote attempts in Ireland and elsewhere to overthrow her and -place the Queen of Scots upon the throne. -{290} -At this distance of time, with a line of successors to ratify -Elizabeth's title to the crown, and the fact of their failure -arguing against the insurgents, it is easy to condemn the papal -policy; but we must remember that affairs bore a different aspect -then; that Elizabeth's right to the throne was open to question; -and that the Catholic faith which she was striving to suppress -was still the faith of a large majority of the English people. - -We have little to do, however, with this Irish expedition. It was -a miserable failure, and its only effect was, to aggravate the -sufferings of the Catholics and expose the missionaries to -increased danger. Our purpose in this article is rather to trace -the history of the more peaceful and strictly religious embassy, -so far as it bore upon the life of the illustrious martyr from -whom it derives its chief renown. - -Edmund Campion, [Footnote 55] the son of a London bookseller, was -born on the 25th of January, 1539, (O. S.,) the year which -witnessed the commencement of the English persecution, of which -he was destined to be a victim, and the solemn approval of the -Society of Jesus, of which he was to be the first English martyr. -At St. John's College, Oxford, where he was educated and obtained -a fellowship, he was so much admired for his gift of speech and -grace of eloquence, that young men imitated not only his phrases -but his gait, and revered him as a second Cicero. It was the year -after he obtained his fellowship that Queen Mary died and -Elizabeth succeeded to the throne. The new sovereign allowed but -a few weeks to pass before she manifested her preference for the -Protestant doctrines; yet there was no attempt at first to force -the heresy upon the university of Oxford, her Majesty wisely -trusting to the insidious influences of time, persuasion, and -high example to bring the students and professors over to her -views. It is no great wonder, perhaps, that Campion, intoxicated -by the incense of adulation and enervated by the worldly comfort -of his position, shut his eyes to the dreadful gulf of heresy -into which the English Church was drifting, and seemed hardly to -realize the necessity which was being forced upon him of choosing -between God and the queen. He was not required for some years to -take any oath at variance with his fidelity to the church. So he -gave up the study of theology, to which he had hitherto devoted -himself, and applied his mind to secular learning. He was a -layman, and controversy might be left to the priests. When he -took his degree in 1564, he was induced to subscribe to the oath -against the pope's supremacy, and by the statutes of his college -he was also compelled to resume the study of divinity; yet he -still managed to stave off important questions and to confine his -reading to the old settled dogmas which had no direct bearing -upon the questions of the day. - - [Footnote 55: _Edmund Campion: A Biography_. - By Richard Simpson. 8vo, pp. 387. London: - Williams & Norgate. New York: - The Catholic Publication Society.] - -{291} - -The time came, at last, when the theological neutral ground had -been thoroughly explored, and Campion turned to the Fathers. In -their venerable company he seemed to grow more thoughtful and -conscientious. The problem of his life now was not how he could -postpone serious considerations, and shake off religious -responsibility, but how he could reconcile true principles with -false practice; how he could remain in the Established Church of -England, and yet hold to all the old Catholic doctrines which the -Establishment denied. His position, in fact, was almost identical -with that of the modern Tractarians, and his college at Oxford -was the home of a party which entertained nearly the same -opinions. There was one of the Elizabethan bishops, Cheney of -Gloucester, who, having retained a good deal of the orthodox -faith, sympathized heartily with Campion's aspirations and -perplexities. He was the actual founder of the school represented -in later times by Newman and Pusey, and he had fixed upon Campion -to continue and perfect the work after he himself had passed -away. The bishop persuaded our young scholar to take deacons' -orders, so that he might preach and obtain preferment. But the -effect of this step upon Campion was such as Cheney little -anticipated. Almost immediately troubles beset his mind. He found -his new dignity odious and abominable. The idea of preferment -became hateful to him. He wished rather to live as a simple -layman, and in 1569 he resigned his appointments at the -university and went to Dublin, where it seemed that a more -agreeable career awaited him. A project was then afoot for -restoring the old Dublin university founded by Pope John XXI., -but for some years extinct. The principal mover in the matter was -the Recorder of Dublin and Speaker of the House of Commons, James -Stanihurst, a zealous Catholic, and the father of one of -Campion's pupils. In his house Campion received a generous -welcome, and there he remained for a while, leading a kind of -monastic life, and waiting for the opening of the new seminary, -in which he hoped to find congenial employment. The scheme fell -through, however, and the chief cause of its failure was the -secret hostility of the government to Stanihurst, and the -Lord-Deputy, Sir Henry Sidney, who were most actively concerned -in it, and to Campion, who was to have the principal share in its -direction. Campion was not yet reconciled to the church, but he -was already distrusted as a papist, and only saved from arrest by -the protection of Sidney. Such protection, however, could not -avail him long. The rebellion of some of the English Catholic -nobles, the publication of the pope's bull against Elizabeth -which Felton had posted on the Bishop of London's gates, and the -designs of the king of Spain upon Ireland, had roused a -persecution, and Campion was one of those especially designated -to be arrested. The Lord-Deputy found means to warn him a few -hours before the officers arrived, and he saved himself by -flight. For two or three months he dodged the pursuivants about -Ireland, lurking in the houses of his friends, and working, in -the intervals of the pursuit, at a _History of Ireland_, -which he had begun while lodging with Stanihurst. At last, seeing -that he must soon be captured if he remained on the island, and -fearing to compromise the friends who gave him shelter, he -resolved to return to England, and accordingly, in the disguise -of a lackey, took ship at the little port of Tredagh, near -Dublin. The officers came on board to search for him, and -questioned everybody on the vessel except the fugitive himself. -They seized the manuscripts of his history, and then went away, -cursing "the seditious villain Campion." He reached England in -time to witness the trial of Dr. Storey, who was executed for the -faith in June, 1571. -{292} -We are told nothing of the progress of his conversion after he -left Oxford, but by this time it was complete, and he had -resolved to repair to the English college at Douai, there to fit -himself for more effective labors in the Catholic cause. In -mid-channel the ship in which he had taken passage was overhauled -by an English frigate, and Campion, having no passport, and -being, moreover, suspected and denounced by his fellow-passengers -as a papist, was taken off and carried back to Dover. The captain -appropriated all his prisoner's money, and then set out to -conduct him to London. It was soon evident, however, that the -officer cared more for the purse than the captive; and without a -word being said on either side, Campion understood that he might -run away provided he said nothing about the money. This was -enough. He escaped in one direction while his guard pretended to -pursue him in another; and having obtained a fresh supply of -money from some of his friends, succeeded at last in making his -escape over to France. - -He staid long enough at Douai to complete his course of -scholastic theology and to be ordained sub-deacon. After the -lapse of a little more than a year, he resolved to go to Rome -with the purpose of becoming a Jesuit. His biographers generally -attribute this determination to the remorse which he still felt -on account of his Anglican deaconship; but Mr. Simpson is -inclined to lay rather more stress upon a disagreement between -Campion and Dr. Allen, the president of Douai College, upon -political questions. The friendly and even affectionate relations -of these two eminent men were never interrupted; but Dr. Allen -had many opinions which his disciple could not share. Campion, -devoted as he was to the church and the Holy See, was always -loyally obedient to the civil powers of his native country, save -when the laws were in conflict with his conscience. Allen, who -had been many years in exile, was a devoted servant of Philip of -Spain, and was thick in the plots for the overthrow of Elizabeth -and the various schemes for foreign invasion. It is not -impossible that a divergence of sentiment on some such point as -this may have influenced Campion's decision, if not wholly, at -least in part. However it was, the two friends bade each other an -affectionate farewell, and the future martyr, in the guise of a -poor pilgrim, set out afoot for Rome. In shabby garments, dusty -and footsore, he entered the holy city in the autumn of 1572, -only a few days before the death of St. Francis Borgia, third -general of the Society of Jesus. A successor to the saint was not -chosen until April, 1573, and meanwhile Campion had to wait. He -was the first postulant admitted by the new general. Father -Mercurianus, and soon afterward he was sent to Brünn in Moravia -to pass his novitiate. In a letter which he wrote to his brethren -there, after he had taken his vows, we find a pleasing picture of -the humble and happy life which he spent in that retreat. "O dear -walls!" he exclaims, "that once shut me up in your company! -Pleasant recreation-room, where we talked so holily! Glorious -kitchen, where the best friends--John and Charles, the two -Stephens, Sallitzi, Finnit and George, Tobias and Gaspar--fight -for the saucepans in holy humility and charity unfeigned! How -often do I picture to myself one returning with his load from the -farm, another from the market; one sweating stalwartly and -merrily under a sack of rubbish, another under some other toil! -... -{293} -I have been about a year in religion, in the world thirty-five; -what a happy change if I could say I had been a year in the -world, in religion thirty-five!" There is something very touching -and instructive in the record of his first years in the Society -of Jesus; and the chroniclers of his order, who reckon it among -the chief glories of the brotherhood in Bohemia that the English -martyr received his religious training among them, and taught -them at the same time by his illustrious example, have set down -that record with careful and affectionate minuteness. How the man -whom Oxford had revered as a guide was content in a moment to -become the humblest of pupils; how he by whom the young nobility -of England had set the fashion of their thought, their reading, -their elocution, their very walk and manner, was happy in the -privilege of being allowed to put on a dirty apron, roll up his -sleeves, and scour saucepans in the scullery--these are the chief -points in the story of his life at Brünn, and afterward at -Prague, whither he was sent to teach rhetoric. It is a strange -life to read about, yet it probably differed little from the -ordinary life of his brethren in religion, and hundreds of Jesuit -houses to-day exhibit no doubt the same model of industry, -devotedness, and humility. For a certain number of hours daily he -was in the class-room; when his pupils went to play, he went to -wash dishes in the kitchen. He was called upon for poems, -orations, and sacred dramas, to celebrate the college festivals; -for funeral discourses on the death of great persons. He taught -catechism to the children; he visited the hospitals and prisons; -he preached; he heard confessions; he spent incredible pains in -preparing the young Jesuits for the work of disputing -successfully with heretics when they should be sent out to their -various fields of duty. His brethren were amazed that any one man -should have strength to carry so many burdens. He seems, however, -to have borne up well under them. "About myself," he writes to -Father Parsons, "I would only have you know that from the day I -arrived here I have been extremely well--in a perpetual bloom of -health, and that I was never at any age less upset by literary -work than now, when I work hardest. We know the reason. But, -indeed, I have no time to be sick, if any illness wanted to take -me." It was while Campion was thus occupied at Prague, that Sir -Philip Sidney, who had known him at Oxford, came over from -England as ambassador. The young nobleman had many an interview -with his old friend, and seems to have awakened in Campion a -strong hope of his conversion--a prospect to which his friends -and political associates were by no means blind; for they watched -him so closely that the interviews between the ambassador and the -Jesuit were not managed without a great deal of difficulty. -Campion writes to one John Bavand, commending "this young man, so -wonderfully beloved and admired by his countrymen," to the -earnest prayers of all good Catholics. He saw what an effect upon -the faith in England the conversion of a nobleman of Sidney's -brilliant parts and distinguished position must have, and the -re-establishment of the faith in his native island was something -which he had especially at heart. His letters are full of anxiety -on this score. He speaks of catching and subduing his recreant -countrymen "by the prayers and tears at which they laugh;" but we -find no political allusions, and it is plain enough that, in the -various schemes for Catholic insurrections and for foreign -invasions, he had neither share nor heart. -{294} -He had been between five and six years at Prague when he was -summoned to Rome to take part in the mission about to be sent -forth for the conversion of England. The little band of heroes -comprised Dr. Goldwell, Bishop of St. Asaph, who had long been -residing on the continent, several English secular priests, old -men who had been in exile, and young men fresh from their -studies, a few zealous laymen, and three Jesuits, Campion, -Parsons, and a lay brother named Ralph Emerson. To assist them in -their labors, collect alms for them, and find safe hiding-places, -a Catholic Association had just been organized in England by -George Gilbert, a young man of property, whom Father Parsons had -converted in Rome the preceding year. The Jesuits were furnished -with a paper of instructions for their guidance. - -Father Parsons was a younger man than Campion, and had been a -shorter time than he in the Society; yet there were good reasons -why he should be appointed the superior in the mission. He was -not only zealous and devout, but he had a good knowledge of men -and affairs, he was well versed in the ways of cities; he was -adroit, versatile, and prudent; and he was somewhat familiar with -the schemes of the pope and other Catholic powers against the -government of Elizabeth. A knowledge of these secret designs -would have been but a sorry safeguard had he fallen into the -hands of the authorities of the crown, and the consciousness must -have heightened his sense of the danger incurred in the -expedition; but Parsons had all the courage of a martyr, though -he did not win a martyr's crown. The party left Rome on the 18th -of April, 1580, and were not more than fairly started on their -journey when the English Secretary, Walsingham received from his -spies a full description of them and a list of their names. - -Passing through Geneva, they resolved to have an interview with -Theodore Beza; and the account of it gives a curious picture of -the state of society in those times, and of the manner in which -theological controversy mingled with the ordinary affairs of -life. The travellers made no secret of their religion, though -they disguised their persons and calling. Campion dressed himself -as an Irish servant, waiting on Mr. John Pascal, a lay gentleman -of their party, and the only one who failed in the final day of -trial. Sherwin, one of the secular priests, used to relate with -uncontrollable merriment how naturally Campion played his part. -Beza, under one pretext or another, got rid of them as politely -as possible, and promised to send to their inn an English scholar -of his, the son of Sir George Hastings. Instead of young -Hastings, there came his governor, Mr. Brown, and a young -Englishman named Powell, and we have a strange account of the -priests disputing hotly in the streets of Geneva with the two -Protestants until almost midnight, and challenging Beza to a -public controversy, with the proviso that he who was justly -convicted in the opinion of indifferent judges should be burned -alive in the market-place! Powell had known Campion at Oxford, so -the _soi-disant_ servant kept out of his sight, and when the -former gentleman offered to accompany the missionaries a little -way on their road next morning, Campion was sent forward in -advance. But meeting on the road a minister studying his sermon, -the temptation was too strong for the enthusiastic Jesuit, and he -buckled with him at once. -{295} -The rest of the party came up while they were still at it, hammer -and tongs, and Powell recognized Campion, and saluted him with -great affection. After that, the missionaries made a pilgrimage -of eight or nine miles over difficult paths to St. Clodovens in -France, by way of penance for their curiosity. - -We have said that Parsons was privy to some of the political -expeditions against England; but he had no knowledge of the one -which set out about the same time that he did, and the news, -which he learned on his arrival at Rheims, filled him with -dismay. The queen had issued a proclamation which plainly -indicated a purpose to proceed against the Catholics with -increased severity, and the peril of the undertaking had become -greater than ever. It does not appear, however, that one of the -company faltered. Dr. Goldwell had been obliged to turn back and -defer his voyage--which, indeed, he never made at all; but others -joined the mission, and among them was a fourth Jesuit, Father -Thomas Cottam. At Rheims, the party broke up to find their way -across to England by different routes. Campion, Parsons, and -Brother Ralph Emerson were to go by way of St. Omer, Calais, and -Dover. Parsons crossed first, disguised as a soldier returning -from the Low Countries, and in his captain's uniform passed -inspection so easily and was so well treated by the searcher at -Dover that he bespoke that officer's courtesy for his friend, -"Mr. Edmunds, a diamond-merchant," who was shortly to follow him. -He reached London without trouble; but his dress was outlandish, -and people were unusually fearful and suspicious, so he was -turned away from the inns. He knew of a Catholic gentleman, -however, who was held in the Marshalsea prison for his faith, and -he applied to see him. Through him he was brought into -communication with George Gilbert and the Catholic Association, -who had apartments in the house of the chief pursuivant, where up -to this time, thanks in part to the connivance of influential -friends, they had managed to have a daily celebration of Mass. - -Father Parsons had induced the friendly searcher at Dover to send -over a letter for him to "Mr. Edmunds," at St. Omer, bidding him -make haste to London with his diamonds, and Campion, as soon as -he received it, set out with Brother Ralph. But, in the mean -time, the English officers had grown more strict; the searcher -had been reprimanded for letting certain persons pass who were -supposed to be priests; and there was a report, moreover, that a -brother of Dr. Allen was coming over, and his description agreed -pretty well with Campion's appearance. The two Jesuits were -accordingly arrested and taken before the mayor; but they were -dismissed after a short detention, and the next day were welcomed -by the association in London. - -This pious club was such an admirable illustration of the truth -that the salvation of souls is not the exclusive duty or -privilege of the priesthood that we may spare a moment from our -survey of Campion's life to glance at its history and character. -The missionary career is open to all. Members of religious -orders, secular priests, men of the world, soldiers, lawyers, -shop-keepers, doctors, laborers, farmers, the beggars on the -street, the fashionable lady in her carriage--we can all do -something for the advancement of the great cause; and if we only -knew how to systematize our efforts, how to economize our zeal, -the Catholic Association of Campion's day is an evidence of the -enormous service we might render to the church. -{296} -The founder of the association, George Gilbert, had been anxious, -immediately after his conversion, to expend his first fervor in a -pilgrimage to Jerusalem; but Father Parsons persuaded him rather -to return to England and spend his money there in advancing the -Catholic cause. He drew together a number of young men of his own -rank in life and with somewhat of his own spirit. They hired -rooms together; they bribed officers whose vigilance they could -not elude; they gave shelter to priests; they furnished places -for the celebration of Mass; they kept the Catholics in -communication with each other; they supplied the missionaries -with money; and they organized the tours which the priests made -through the country. The Catholics were beset with spies, and the -government held out strong inducements to weak brethren to betray -their pastors. It was necessary, therefore, that the priests -should be extremely cautious to whom they trusted themselves; and -since they could not carry credentials, it was necessary, too, -that the gentlemen who harbored them should be quite sure whom -they were receiving. This perfect intelligence could only be -obtained by a thorough organization of the Catholic gentry; and -it was not the least part of the duty of the association to see -that, whenever a priest travelled, some one should be with him as -at once an endorser and a guide. It was their part, likewise, to -undertake the preliminary work of converting heretics. In those -fearful times a doubting Protestant could not be admitted to see -a priest until he had given some evidence of the sincerity of his -search after truth. The members of the club took him in hand -first, and brought him to the priest when they felt it to be -safe. - -When Campion reached the asylum of their rooms in London, Parsons -had already gone on a tour in the country, leaving word for his -companion to await his return. There was a great desire among the -Catholics who had learned of the arrival of the missionaries to -hear the famous preacher with whose eloquence years ago Oxford -had resounded, but it was no easy matter to find a place where he -might speak in safety. At last, arrangements were made for a -sermon in the servants' hall of a private house, and there, while -trusty gentlemen watched all the avenues of approach, Campion -delivered a discourse with which all the Catholic circles of -London were soon ringing. The faithful and the wavering rushed to -him in crowds. The government got wind of what was going on, and -redoubled their exertions to entrap him. Several priests were -captured, and many Catholics were thrown into prison. The danger -of remaining in London soon became too pressing to be -disregarded. So, after a council had been held, several questions -of discipline settled, and each man's special work assigned, the -priests all went away to different parts of the kingdom. - -The pursuit was much hotter after Campion than after any of his -brethren, and it was intensified by the imprudence of a Catholic -layman who had allowed a document entrusted to his care by the -missionary, to be made public. This was a paper drawn up by -Campion on the eve of the separation of their little company, -setting forth the reasons of their coming to England, and -inviting the Protestants to a public conference. It was intended -to be used only in case he should be arrested; but Thomas Pounde, -to whom, for greater surety, he had given a copy, thought it too -good to be kept entirely secret, and thus it soon came to the -hands of the government. -{297} -This, of course, increased their anxiety to capture a man whom, -by his personal influence, his eloquence, and his still brilliant -reputation at Oxford, they felt to be especially dangerous. -Proclamation followed proclamation; the pursuivants were -unceasing in activity; spies were sent into every quarter of the -kingdom; some of the Catholics themselves were corrupted; -watchers were set about the houses of the principal Catholic -gentlemen. Many a time was the Mass or the sermon interrupted by -the coming of the officers and the priest compelled to take -refuge in the woods. Once, when the pursuivants came upon him -suddenly at the house of a private gentleman, a maid-servant, to -make them think he was merely one of the retainers, affected to -be angry with him and pushed him into a pond. The disguise was -effectual, and the good father escaped. - -All this while he was engaged in writing his famous book against -the Protestants, known as the _Decem Rationes_. It was -finished about Easter, 1581, and sent to London for the approval -of Parsons, who had a private printing-press in a hidden place, -whereat he had already published certain writings of his own. By -great efforts a number of copies were got ready for the -commencement at Oxford in June; and when the audience assembled -at the exercises, they found the benches strewed with the books, -to the reading of which they gave far more attention than to the -performances of the students. The title-page bore the imprint of -Douai, but the government was not long in ascertaining by the -examination of experts that the work had been done in England. - -Campion had gone to London while his book was passing through the -press, to superintend the correction of the sheets; but the -danger was now so imminent that Parsons ordered him away into -Norfolk, in company with Brother Ralph Emerson. The two fathers -rode out of the city together at daylight on the 12th of July, -and, after an affectionate farewell, parted company, the one -going to the north, the other back into the town. - -The Judas who was to betray him, however, was on the alert. This -was one George Eliot, formerly steward to Mr. Roper in Kent, and -latterly a servant of the widow of Sir William Petre. He was a -Catholic, but a man of bad character, and had been for some time -a paid informer to the Earl of Leicester. How he knew of -Campion's visit to Lyford is not certain; but he had been looking -for him at several Catholic houses in the neighborhood, and on -the 16th, armed with a warrant and attended by a pursuivant in -disguise, he presented himself at the gate just as Mass was about -to begin, and applied for admission. One of the servants knew him -for a Catholic, but little suspected his real character; so with -much ado he got leave to pass in, having first sent off the -pursuivant to a magistrate for a _posse comitatus_. He heard -the Mass, he heard Campion's sermon; but he was afraid to make -the arrest until the magistrate arrived. As soon as the service -was over, he hurried off. The company--comprising some sixty -persons besides the members of the household--were at dinner when -word was brought that the place was surrounded by armed men. -After a long search, Campion and three other priests were found -concealed in a closet, and taken prisoners. - -{298} - -The prisoners were carried up to London and committed to the -Tower, making their entrance into the city through the midst of a -hooting mob, Campion leading the procession with his elbows tied -behind him, his hands tied in front, his feet fastened under his -horse's belly, and a placard on his hat, inscribed "_Campion, -the seditious Jesuit_." The governor, Sir Owen Hopton, at -first placed Campion in the narrow dungeon known as -"Little-ease," in which one could neither stand nor lie at -length. He remained there until the fourth day, when, with great -secrecy, he was conducted to Leicester's house, and courteously -received by the earl and several other persons of mark, and -shortly found himself in the presence of the queen. He gave a -truthful account of his motives in coming to England; he -satisfied Elizabeth, as it would appear, of his loyalty; and -could he have accepted the conditions proposed to him, he might -have been dismissed with honors and riches. As it was, Hopton -received orders to treat him more leniently. It was now the -purpose of the government to coax him into compliance. - -Failing to shake his constancy, the next thing was to destroy his -reputation. It was given out that he was on the point of -recanting; that he had betrayed his friends; that he had divulged -the names of the gentlemen who harbored him. To give color to -these charges, a great many Catholics were arrested, in -consequence, it was said, of Campion's confession. For a while -these infamous charges, fortified with plausible confirmation, -were generally believed; but it was soon ascertained that the -betrayal had been wrung from some of Campion's companions on the -rack. To render the missionary contemptible, it was thought -necessary to answer his challenge for a public disputation in -some way or another, and a large number of the most eminent -Anglican divines were appointed to meet him in a public hall and -discuss the chief points of controversy. They had all the time -they wanted to prepare, free access to libraries, and every -possible favor. Campion was not informed of the arrangement until -two hours before the assembly opened. Then, with his limbs still -smarting from the torment of the rack, he was placed in the -middle of the room, without books, without even a table to lean -upon, with no assistance whatever, except the assistance of -heaven. The dispute continued several days. It was distinguished, -as might have been supposed, by gross unfairness and bad language -on the part of the Protestants, while Campion conciliated all -honest-minded listeners, not only by the acuteness of his -answers, but by his mild and affectionate spirit. Though he had -been educated to a familiarity with dialectics, and lived in a -day when controversy was an almost universal passion, he was far -from being a disputatious man, and the _odium theologicum_ -had no place in his warm and tender heart. With all the advantage -given to the Protestant side, it was evident that the Catholics -were profiting by the conferences, and the government abruptly -closed them. But it was too late. Campion's fame was restored; -the slanders against him had been refuted; and the popular -enthusiasm broke forth in ballads, of which Mr. Simpson gives a -sample. - -Nothing remained now but to try him for treason. It was first -proposed to indict him for having on a certain day in Oxfordshire -traitorously pretended to have power to absolve her majesty's -subjects from their allegiance, and endeavored to attach them to -the obedience of the pope and the faith of the Roman church; but -this was too plainly a religious prosecution. -{299} -A plot was therefore forged, which it was pretended that Campion, -Allen, Morton, Parsons, and fourteen priests and others then in -custody, had concerted at Rome and Rheims to dethrone the queen -and raise a civil war. On this charge Campion, Sherwin, Cottam, -and five others, were arraigned at Westminster Hall on the 14th -of November. When Campion was called upon, according to custom, -to hold up his hands in pleading, his arms were so cruelly -wounded by the rack that he could not lift them without -assistance. The trial took place on the 20th. The principal -witnesses for the crown were George Eliot and three hired -wretches named Munday, Sledd, and Caddy, who pretended to have -observed the meetings of the conspirators at Rome; but their -testimony was so weak, and the answers of Campion so admirable, -that when the jury retired it was generally believed in court -that the verdict must be one of acquittal. Court and jury, -however, had been bought beforehand. The prisoners were all found -guilty, and sentenced to be hanged, drawn and quartered. Then -Campion broke forth in a loud hymn of praise, "_Te Deum -laudamus_" and Sherwin and others took up the song, until the -multitude were visibly affected. - -After he had been remanded to the Tower, the traitor Eliot came -to his cell, and Campion received him so sweetly, forgiving his -offence, and offering to provide for him an asylum with a -Catholic noble in Germany, whither he might escape from the odium -and danger which haunted him at home, that the keeper, who -witnessed the interview was induced by it to become a Catholic. -The few days which intervened between conviction and death were -passed by the holy man in fasting and other mortifications. The -execution was appointed for the 29th of November. Campion, -Sherwin, and Briant were to suffer together. At the execution -Campion was interrupted by a long dialogue respecting his alleged -treason, and subjected to a great deal of questioning. Somebody -asked him to pray for the queen. While he was doing so, the cart -was drawn away, amid the tears and groans of the multitude, and -his body left dangling in the air. - -So ended the good fight. Sherwin and Briant met their fate with -like joy and constancy, and many another good priest and devoted -layman trod afterward in the same awful but glorious path. And as -it has been since the days of St. Stephen, the blood of the -martyrs proved the seed of the church. Henry Walpole estimated -that no fewer than ten thousand persons were converted by the -spectacle of Champion's death. That is probably an exaggeration; -but it is certain that the execution had a marked effect upon the -progress of the faith in England, and covered the Anglican clergy -with an odium from which they were long in recovering. - -Of the life by Mr. Simpson, upon which we have so freely drawn -for the materials of this hasty sketch, we must not close without -a word of praise. Written originally for a monthly periodical, -and long interrupted by the failure of that publication, it lacks -the neat finish and compactness which the author would probably -have given it, had it been composed under more favorable -circumstances. But it has evidently been prepared with great -industry; it is written in a good style; and with a little -judicious pruning and rearrangement, it will make one of the most -interesting of modern religious biographies. - ----------- - -{300} - - The Catholic Sunday-School Union. [Footnote 56] - - [Footnote 56: _First Report of the Catholic Sunday-School - Union_, of the city of New York. January 1, 1868.] - - -Few of the evidences of the zealous spirit which is stirred up in -these latter days, have given us more unfeigned pleasure than the -information which this report conveys. The Sunday-School Union -began as all Catholic works begin, has prospered thus far as they -prosper, and will share in their triumph. A few earnest souls, -observing how much more good could be accomplished in the -catechism-classes if the exercises and methods of teaching were -made more systematic and co-operative, met together, on the -evening of July 9th, 1866, debated the subject, formed -resolutions, went to work, and now the catechetical education of -the 20,237 children reported from eighteen Sunday-schools of this -city, (about one half of the whole number,) is practically under -the control of this admirable association. The good fruits of -their labors are already noticeable in the more regular -attendance of the children, the conferences of teachers for -mutual instruction and encouragement, the better regulated -programme of exercises, and the increased interest manifested in -the schools by all who are in any way connected with them. - -The competent knowledge which our people, as a mass, have of -their religion, of the dogmas of faith--knowledge which they are -bound to have under pain of sin--and that other "knowledge unto -salvation" which is shown in the faithful performance of their -Christian duties, depends, as all know, upon the catechetical -instruction they receive in youth. Priests may preach sermon -after sermon, and each and every such discourse may be well -calculated to enlighten the mind and move the heart; but as a -rule, all sermons nowadays suppose the hearers to be already in -possession of Christian principles, and disciplined to the -practices of a Christian life. Sound and thorough catechetical -instruction is, then, one of the primary duties of a pastor of -souls. That each pastor should assume the whole of this labor to -himself is simply impossible. Those of the laity who by their -character and education are fitted to be his coadjutors in this -pastoral duty, must therefore be called upon to aid him in it. -The time when it is feasible to assemble children together for -religious instruction is on Sunday. Hence the Sunday-school and -its corps of lay teachers; both of necessity, as experience has -shown, for every parish, if the people are to have, as they ought -to have, a befitting knowledge of their religion--if they are to -be indoctrinated with its spirit, and receive its ministrations -by a devout, conscientious attendance upon its worship, and a due -appreciation of, and worthy preparation for, the holy sacraments. - -The first thought which naturally presents itself in reference to -these lay coadjutors of the clergy, is that of their competence -and fitness to teach. We do not care to send our children to be -educated by any and every schoolmaster. We not only ask, Is he -capable? but we ask, Who is he, and what is he? If these -questions may be very properly put concerning a teacher of -geography and arithmetic, we may be pardoned for asking them -concerning one who professes to teach Christian doctrine and -morality. -{301} -Is he well versed in the truths of faith himself, and, if you -please, what is his own moral character? - -The Sunday-school is an excellent institution, a necessary -institution in our times; but if it is to be of any value, -teachers, who are in the first place competent for the task, and -who in the second place are practical Christians, must be -secured. In small parishes, the pastor may possibly find a -sufficient number who possess all the requisite qualifications, -(although, so far, our experience has been to the contrary,) but -in large and populous parishes, such as are found in all our -cities, it is plain that a sufficient number are not easily -obtained for the purpose, nor will those who are in all respects -fitted for the work and are ready to answer the call of the -pastor, be able to control and reduce the heterogeneous elements -of a city Sunday-school to any order or regular observance of -rules laid down by the pastor, or devised by themselves, without -mutual co-operation, counsel, and a systematic organization. -Besides, into a corps of such teachers, who are not themselves -subjected to some organized form of association, persons wholly -incompetent or deficient in moral standing will intrude, and -prove either a hinderance to others, or do positive harm. - -When chance-comers offer their services as teachers in his -Sunday-school, it is difficult if not impossible for the pastor -to examine them in order to test their knowledge before accepting -them, and it may be equally difficult for him to find out what -may be their moral worth. Their daily lives are, as a rule, -better known to the members of his congregation than they are to -him. In the ill-regulated voluntary system which has hitherto -been so common amongst us, many evils have resulted from this -which were unavoidable. Teachers of religion ought to be -themselves good exemplars of it. Children learn at the -Sunday-school a good deal more than the verbal answer to as many -questions as are printed in the catechism. Those who occupy the -office of teacher exert a moral influence over the children. -Example is the master-teacher, and bad example will teach (we are -sorry to say) quite as well as good example. You cannot gather -grapes from thorns, or figs from thistles. During the time that a -man or woman is engaged in conversation with children, much of -his or her own character is infused into the minds of their -youthful companions by words, gestures, looks, and manner. Shall -I permit my children to be thus placed one whole hour every week, -under the influence of an ignorant man, a non-practical Catholic, -and possibly a person of vicious habits and of vulgar demeanor--a -person whom I could not allow my children to converse with at -all, in the street or elsewhere, outside of the Sunday-school -room? Certainly not. I must have some guarantee that my children -shall have such associations as I can approve of, as well in the -Sunday-school as in any other place where they may happen to be. - -One who might make such reflections as the foregoing need occupy -no higher position in society than that of being a good -Christian, watchful over the souls of his little ones, and -anxious to guard them from contamination with persons ignorant of -the faith in which he wishes them to be educated, or such as by -their personal want of piety are certain to damage the growth of -it in the souls of -the children he presumes to instruct. - -{302} - -If we mistake not, these considerations were in part those which -animated the zealous and worthy founders of the Sunday-School -Union, whose first report lies before us. This appears to us in -the pages of the report, especially under the head of "objects." -We quote: - - "The objects of the Sunday-school Union are of a religious, - educational, and social character. The fundamental object is, - of course, the benefit and improvement of the Sunday-schools; - the secondary end is the association of the Catholic young men - of the city, in a manner sanctioned by religion, for purposes - of mutual acquaintance and improvement, and the creation of a - common tie of sympathy and interest, such as should exist - between them as members of the same, One, Holy, and Universal - Church. By the comparisons of systems, and experience, and - through the increased opportunities of receiving advice and - counsel from the clergy, improvements have been introduced in - many of the schools, and the teachers have been led to take - greater interest in their duties." - -We need only quote to ourselves the trite old proverb, that -"Birds of a feather," etc., to feel assured that the "Union" will -remove in great part the dangers arising from incompetence and -unfitness on the part of teachers, to which we have alluded. The -leading spirits of an association of this kind will impress their -own character upon the whole body, and we have the utmost -confidence that such persons will be of the right stamp, young -men of solid piety, of sufficient knowledge, and animated by the -highest and purest motives. They will draw to them other young -men of like character and dispositions with themselves. -Association will stimulate exertion, promote harmony, and be -productive of the best and happiest results; not only for the -children, but, what is of no little moment to us, for the young -men themselves. - -Under their intelligent direction the Sunday-school will assume a -higher standard of religious education. It has too long been -deemed sufficient to teach the children the catechism as one -teaches parrots, getting them to repeat a certain answer to a -given question, without stopping to consider if the scholars have -any intelligent apprehension of the meaning of either question or -answer. We remember being present in a Sunday-school when the -following instruction was overheard by us: - - Sunday-School Teacher. - "Are we bound to obey the commandments of the church?" - - Boy. - "A--a, because--a--" (gives it up.) - - Teacher, (speaking as rapidly as a clerk of the Senate, and - looking everywhere but at the pupil.) - "Yes, because Christ has said to the pastors of his church, - he that hears you hears me, and he that despises you despises - me." (Then with a savage look at the child,) "Now, sir!" - - Boy,(whining.) - "Yes, sir--because--here's you and here's me. He despises you - and he despises me." - -Boy's ears cuffed with the catechism. - -Yet it must be confessed that the recitation of the answer by the -teacher was pretty faithfully imitated by the child, who aimed at -catching a certain number of sounds and repeating them, without -thinking of their meaning. - -It is very well that the children should learn to recite portions -of the catechism which they have learned by rote; but this will -not suffice to give them an intelligent comprehension of the -truths of religion. There is hardly a question and response in -the catechism which does not need some additional explanation and -illustration suited to their capacities. -{303} -This is no easy task, and one that might well engage the highest -cultivated minds. Teachers must therefore themselves be taught. -No one can impart that which he does not possess. We are glad, -therefore, to see that one of the objects of our Sunday-School -Union is of an "educational" character. - -The object which is denominated "religious" is also of primary -importance. The Sunday-school teacher is a teacher of religion in -more senses than in imparting a mere verbal knowledge of the -doctrines of religion. It comes properly within his sphere to -edify his pupils by holy words, good counsel, and good example. -If he does not so edify them, he will infallibly do the contrary. -Our experience leads us to assert that there is no middle term -here between edification and disedification. He who has no words -of holiness and sweet Christian counsel in his mouth, is pretty -sure of having words and counsel which smack of the world and its -ungodly principles. Let no one imagine that he can assume for the -time and occasion the tone, speech, and manner of a good, pious -Christian, if he be not one in reality. Children have the keenest -scent for hypocrisy. They instinctively mark and loathe a -Pecksniff or a Chadband. The lessons of piety, the words of -kindly warning or encouragement, the appeals to their Christian -sentiment, falling from the lips of men who have no solid piety, -and whose ordinary daily life is little better than that of a -respectable heathen, if as good, will have no other effect than -to excite the sceptical sneers of youths who are not to be -deceived by sham appearances. - -Our Sunday-schools, therefore, urgently demand the aid of -"religious" teachers; we mean teachers who are practical -Christians themselves, and carry out in their lives the lessons -they are desirous of teaching others. They need teachers who are -more than Catholics by profession. In a Sunday-school which is -fortunate enough to possess teachers of religion who are men of -living faith, devout, prayerful, scrupulous, and exact in the -performances of their religious duties, exhibiting in their -manner a deep reverence for holy things, modesty, patience, -benignity, earnestness, and zeal for the glory of God, there will -the children also be found exact types of their spiritual -instructors. - -The Sunday-School Union will form a corps of just such men. It -will find itself composed of members who are moved by the Holy -Spirit of God to take some part in this important work, and who -will engage in it as a labor of love, in the spirit of sacrifice -and apostolic zeal. They will, for the most part, bring hearts -well prepared for it; but the Union will itself do much toward -sustaining and advancing the spiritual good of its members. The -most noble spectacle to be presented in this world of temptation -and sin, is a band of young men, strong in the faith and loyal to -the holy traditions of religion emulating each other in the -practice of virtue and works of Christian charity. Such is the -spectacle which this association is striving to present to our -eyes, and our prayers should not be wanting that God may -strengthen them and enlarge the sphere of their holy labors. - -The third object spoken of is the "social" character which the -Union proposes. We think we understand this, and have already -hinted at it. They aim at making the tone of their association -high and select. And this is a point worthy of our reflection. -Children naturally imitate the manners of their elders, -particularly of those with whom they are associated in the -capacity of pupils. -{304} -Let the teacher be rough, boorish, and uncouth in his deportment, -negligent in his personal appearance, unceremonious and -irreverent in the church, unguarded in his language, of an -ungoverned temper, tardy in his attendance, and distracted in his -instructions, you will find that the class of which he has -unfortunately the charge will very soon be an exact copy of -himself. We commiserate the Sunday-school where even one such -teacher is to be found. He and his ill-regulated and -worse-behaved class are a positive hinderance to the good order -of the whole school, and the sooner he is got rid of the better. -The Union, by its power of associating like to like, will -eliminate this worthless class of individuals, and substitute in -their stead punctual, earnest, courteous, self-denying, and -reverent-minded teachers, whose very presence in the -Sunday-school will be an example of deportment becoming the -Christian and the gentleman, commanding respect, obedience, and -attention on the part of all the scholars, and the esteem of his -fellow-teachers. What affection, too, the children instinctively -bestow upon such! - -The love for these young souls, of which their heart is full, is -abundantly reciprocated, and the influence for good which such -teachers have is beyond measure. They are regarded by these -little ones of Christ in their true light, as coadjutors of the -pastor, and their admonitions are received with humble and loving -obedience. "O ma!" says a little child to its parent on returning -from Sunday-school, "we have the nicest teacher in the world, -_so_ good, and he knows _so_ much, and he is _such a -gentleman!_" Yes; children are quick of observation--none -quicker; and when they have found one who presents all the -qualities which should distinguish a worthy teacher, they from -that moment begin to count the hours which will intervene until -they shall have the happiness of meeting him again. If we aim at -having first-class Sunday-schools, which will not only teach the -children their catechism, and encourage them in the practice of -virtue, but also elevate and refine their manners, and educate -them in that, for which, after all, Catholic children are -remarkable, namely, Christian politeness, we must secure teachers -who, like the teacher of the little child mentioned above, are -_so_ good, know _so_ much, and are _such -gentlemen!_ We have every confidence that the Sunday-School -Union, by its "social" character, will bring this about. - -We are making no invidious reflections, and would feel pained to -think we should be thus adjudged. We presume to speak from -experience. We know something of Sunday-schools, and of their -working in small and large parishes, in the city and in the -country. We have had to feel the many difficulties which a pastor -has to surmount in this matter. We aim at encouraging and bidding -God speed to an enterprise which we know is needed, and which we -are certain cannot fail of producing incalculable good. - -Among other works which the Union proposes, is that of -establishing Sunday-schools for colored children. That zealous -and apostolic priest, the Rev. Father Duranquet, of the Society -of Jesus, did not shrink from adding this to his many other -labors when it presented itself to him in the course of his -ministry. But just such a power was needed as the Sunday-School -Union affords to reach these much-neglected children, and bring -them under the influence of the Catholic religion, to care for -those of that class who are of her household, to insure a lively, -personal, loving interest being taken in them, and thus to show -that our holy church is the church of all the people, of white -and black, of bond and free. -{305} -We bless God for this effort of theirs. It is very near and dear -to our own heart. The world sneers and scoffs at them, but there -is no caste in the Catholic Church, and they are, as well as we, -souls for whom Christ died. - -The Catholic priest and the Catholic Sunday-school teacher can do -more for them, we know, than all the so-called philanthropists -from Dan to Beersheba. God forbid that we should turn aside from -this labor and leave these precious souls to perish! - -The Sunday-School Union is formed exclusively of men. "The female -teachers," says the report, "are invited to all the public -lectures and discourses, and to participate in as many of the -undertakings of the Union as possible." This is all very proper. -We know, however, that the ladies have hitherto taken rather the, -shall we say, lion's share in the hardest of the undertakings to -which the young men of the Sunday-School Union can possibly -devote their energies, which is, the work of teaching. In most -parishes they have far outnumbered the male teachers. We refrain -from making any comparison of their efficiency. For ourselves, we -say we do not know how we could possibly have got along without -them, nor do we see how their aid can be dispensed with in the -future. We are not aware that the Sunday-School Union has any -such intention. The ladies do a good by their presence which we -of the stronger, rougher sex may not hope to accomplish, besides -being the fittest persons to teach the female classes. We are -sure that they will cheerfully abide by any rules and regulations -laid down by the Union, and do their utmost to carry out any -suggestions made to them for the better conducting of their -classes. We are not afraid of their resisting the powers that be. -But why may they not also meet together for mutual encouragement, -instruction, and edification? We shall look for some movement of -this kind before long. - -As for the Union itself, we look upon it not as a simple local -expedient to meet a local want. It has a national interest, and -sooner or later must find imitation in all our large cities and -towns. We hope soon to hear that such has been the case in many -other places, and then the influence of such associations will be -increased in the ratio of the union of their separate and -distinct bodies, at least, such an union as we trust and pray -will soon be exhibited in all great Catholic works in this -country--the assembly of their members for mutual acquaintance, -cooperation, and debate, in a National Catholic Congress. The -good that is done, the power that is elicited from assemblies of -this kind, is well known to all our readers who have perused our -articles on the Catholic Congress of Malines, in former numbers -of _The Catholic World_. The Sunday-School Union would do -well to consider this matter in the light of their own interest. -In their union they have found strength. Let them seek to extend -their efforts by encouraging, in so far as they are able, any -such associations as may be started, or are in operation, in -other places, inviting a correspondence and offering all their -aid, looking forward, at the same time, to a union with them on a -larger and general basis, and to the discussion of their mutual -interests in a grand congressional assembly. - -{306} - -We trust that our remarks will be received in the spirit in which -they are meant. They have been prompted by the deep, heart-felt -interest which we feel in the subject, and the entire sympathy -which we have for the noble, holy, Christian work to which our -friends have devoted their energies. They have not begun too -soon. Every year thousands of our children, in this city of New -York alone, leave school to engage in various occupations, where -they are thrown into the society of youths of all religions and -of no religion. Protestantism has practically no influence over -children, and generally leaves them to shift for themselves, and -pick up what scraps of religion they may. - -Unfortunately, the mass of them, being totally ignorant of the -blessings and comfort of the Catholic faith, and not having had -any very cheerful experience of religion as it has been presented -to them by the bald, repulsive, unchild-like nature of -Protestantism, break away from its restraints, and run wildly -into the deserts of rationalism or infidelity. Poor children! our -hearts bleed for them. But, while we pity them, let us not forget -that they are to be the daily associates of our own lambs of the -flock. How necessary, then, that we should strive by every effort -to prepare ours for the dangers to which they will be exposed by -giving them, while we may, a thorough knowledge of their holy -faith, and send them forth guarded by a panoply of virtue, -accustomed to a regular attendance upon the divine offices of the -church, and to a frequent reception of the Holy Sacraments. Let -it be our aim to dismiss each and every child from our -Sunday-schools a loyal, devout, intelligent Catholic, whose faith -is firm as a rock, and whose soul is bright and pure with the -indwelling grace of God. Our blessed Lord, the lover of little -children, will not fail to remember our care of those of whom He -said: "Of such is the kingdom of heaven." - --------------- - - Sonnet On "Le Recit D'une Soeur," - By Mrs. Augustus Craven. - - - Whence is the music? Minstrel see we none; - Yet, soft as waves that, surge succeeding surge, - Roll forward--now subside--anon emerge-- - Upheaved in glory o'er a setting sun, - Those beatific harmonies sweep on: - O'er earth they sweep from utmost verge to verge, - Triumphant Hymeneal, Hymn, and Dirge, - Blending in everlasting unison. - Whence is the music? Stranger! These were they - That, great in love, by love unvanquished proved: - These were true lovers, for in God they loved: - With God these spirits rest in endless day. - Yet still, for love's behoof, on wings outspread - Float on o'er earth betwixt the angels and the dead. - - Aubrey de Vere. - ------------ - -{307} - - Nellie Netterville; - or, One Of The Transplanted. - - - Chapter VI. - -The party from the tower came on meantime at a rapid rate; and, -peeping cautiously from behind her hiding-place, Nellie saw that -they had already reached the foot of the hill where she and her -grandfather stood awaiting their approach. The lady--even at that -distance Nellie fancied she could see that she was young and -pretty, and, though clad in the saddest and strictest of -Puritanic attire, anything but a Puritan in her looks and -bearing--rode in front, with the military-looking personage, -described already, upon one side, and a younger cavalier, with -the air likewise of a soldier, on the other, while a couple of -followers brought up the rear. At first the three foremost of the -party rode abreast, but, as the up-hill path began to narrow, the -lady pushed her horse ahead so as to lead the way, and Nellie -could hear one of her companions shouting to her to ride -cautiously until she had turned the sharp corner of rock behind -which Nellie herself was at that moment standing. The warning -came, as warnings often _do_ come, too late by a single -second. It could have scarcely reached the lady's ears ere she -had dashed round the corner, and her horse, wild and unmanageable -enough already, plunged violently at the unexpected apparition of -Nellie and her grandfather on the other side. If the path had not -widened considerably at that spot, the struggle must have ended -fatally, and even as it was, Nellie expected every moment to see -both horse and rider roll over the edge of the precipice to which -the heels of the former were in such fearful proximity. - -The lady, however, sat him to perfection, and after a short, -sharp struggle for the mastery, she succeeded in forcing him to -rush at a wild gallop straight down the path leading to the -valley, the only safe course of action she could possibly have -adopted. - -Her companions had by this time reached the spot where Nellie had -watched the contest, and the younger of the two was about to spur -his horse on to the rescue, when his older and wiser companion -shouted to him to forbear. - -"Let her be, Ormiston! Let her be!" he cried. "She knows well -enough what she is about, my Ruth. And you will but infuriate her -horse by following at his heels." - -Thus adjured, the young man, addressed as "Ormiston," had no -choice but to remain quiet. He drew in bridle, therefore, beside -his chief, and watched as patiently as he could the down-hill -gallop of the lady. The result fortunately justified the -confidence of the elder horseman. No sooner had she reached the -wide bottom of the glen below, than she checked her horse -suddenly, and turning him almost before he had time to suspect -her intentions, galloped him up the hill again with such right -good-will that he was glad enough to stop and breathe of his own -accord by the time she had rejoined her companions. - -Relieved from all anxiety on her account, the old Cromwellian -officer, for such his scarf and embroidered shoulder-belt -announced him, turned the vials of his wrath, as even the best -men will upon such occasions, upon those who, however -unwittingly, had been the cause of the disaster. -{308} -In the present case Nellie and her grandfather were only too -evidently the offenders, and the storm was accordingly sent full -upon their heads. They were still standing in the recess formed -by the shoulder of the retreating bank, and as Nellie, by an -unconscious movement of girlish timidity, had retired behind Lord -Netterville, he formed for a moment the chief figure in the -group. Thoroughly roused and wakened up at thus finding himself -unexpectedly face to face with his arch enemies, the old man -stood out upon the foreground like a picture, his eyes sparkling, -his white hair falling on his shoulders, and a grave and noble -pride in his very attitude which belied alike the meanness of his -apparent station and the disfigurement of his stained and -travel-worn attire. The latter indeed consisting entirely of the -so-called "Irish weeds," the Cromwellian officer naturally enough -concluded him to be a native, and addressed him, accordingly, in -such terms of contemptuous abuse as it was too often the Saxon -fashion of those unhappy times to bestow upon the Celt. - -"How now, thou 'Irish dogg'? How hast thou dared, thou and thy -wench, to cross our path, and so put the life of the Lord's elect -in danger? Give place at once and let us pass, if thou wouldst -not that I should do unto thee as I did at Tredagh, where my -sword, from the rising even to the setting of the sun, wrought -the vengeance of the Lord on an idolatrous and misguided people." - -Lord Netterville, during this agreeable harangue, had stepped -right into the centre of the path, so that the other could hardly -have passed him without a struggle, and he barely awaited its -conclusion ere, with eyes flashing fire, he violently retorted: - -"'Irish dogg!' sayest thou? Learn, thou unmannerly Saxon churl, -that my blood is as English perhaps more so than thine own; and -certainly from a nobler fountain! I am of the English pale," he -continued, drawing himself up to his full height, and gaining in -dignity what he lost in passion, "and one of no mean standing in -it either--a Netterville of the old Norman race, since the days -of the first Plantagenet." - -"Lord Netterville--father!" said the young Amazon in a low voice, -pushing her horse forward and touching the officer's shoulder -with her riding-whip in order to attract his attention. "It must -be the Lord Netterville of whom there was some question, I -remember, when you were in negotiation for these lands." - -"Ha, wench! thou also to blaspheme!" he cried, turning furiously -upon her. "Knowest thou not that there is but one Lord, and that -the pride of them that assume his titles stinks in his nostrils -like the burning pitch of Tophet? And thou," he added, addressing -himself to Lord Netterville, "in vain dost thou boast of thy race -or lineage; for whatever they once were, they have, I doubt not, -been so often renewed in the blood of the Irish as to have little -or naught left of English honesty or honor to bestow upon their -owner." - -"Little or much!" cried the old lord furiously, "if thou, black -dog of Cromwell as thou art, will but dismount and bid one of thy -lackeys put a sword into my hands, I will show thee that, in -spite of my seventy years and odd, I have still enough of English -manhood left to chastise impertinence, wherever or in whomsoever -I may chance to find it." - -"Sir," cried Nellie, terrified at the turn affairs were taking, -and placing herself between the disputants, "there is no need for -all these taunting words and bandying of harsh challenges. -{309} -In peace have we come hither, and we do but seek to possess our -own in peace--their honors, the commissioners at Loughrea, having -assigned to us our residence amidst these mountains." - -"Residence!" cried the officer, roused at once into a far more -bitter and personal feeling than the sort of proud contempt, -which was all that he had hitherto deigned to bestow upon the -strangers. "Residence among these mountains, dost thou say? Nay, -then, young maiden, thou hast mistaken thy mark, and that most -widely, since all these lands, as far as the eye can see--even -this land of Murrisk, which we English call the 'Owles,' with its -upper and its lower barony as well--have been made over to me -already, as mine own inheritance, the land which the Lord hath -given (for the laborer is worthy of his hire) as the fruit of -long service in the battle-field." - -"This is my grandfather. Lord Netterville, and we are, as he has -rightly told you, of the old English of the pale," said Nellie, -making one step nearer in order to present her certificate. "At -first, in common with the other inhabitants of Meath, we were to -have been sent into the more eastern baronies of Connaught; but -the numbers set down for transplantation to those parts having -been found greater than could be accommodated on the land, we -were assigned at last our portion in the same barony of Murrisk." - -The officer looked at first as if greatly inclined to refuse the -paper which she held up for his acceptance; but suddenly changing -his intention, he snatched it rudely from her hand, and ran his -eye over the contents. - -"Humph! ha!" he continued to mutter as he read; and then turning -to Nellie, he said in a voice in which, toned down as it was to -an affectation of cold indifference, her quick ear detected, -nevertheless, a lurking tone of triumph. - -"This certificate bears a date, as I see, of some three months -earlier in the year. How, then, is it, maiden, that it was not -presented sooner?" - -"It is five months to-day since we left our home--our pleasant -home in Meath," said Nellie sadly; "and "much of that time was -spent perforce at Loughrea. At first we were kept there in sore -suspense as to the settlement of our just claim for land, and -after that we were detained by sickness. Our servant fell ill and -died of the plague; my grandfather suffered also much from the -same malady, and he has in some measure recovered from it; it -has, alas! reduced him from a hale and hearty old age, to the -wreck--mind and body--that you see before you. In this way our -scanty stock of money was soon exhausted, and when at last he was -fit to travel, we had to sell our horses and the best part of our -wearing apparel, in order to satisfy the debts incurred during -his illness; after which there was nothing for it but to finish -the journey as best we could on foot." - -"How marvellous are the mercies of the Lord--the mercies which he -has laid up for them that fear him," cried the officer, turning -triumphantly toward his companions, and yet shrinking, in spite -of himself, beneath the angry glances shot at him from the blue -eyes of his daughter. "Surely his hand and his wisdom are visible -in this matter," he added, in a less openly exultant manner; "for -look ye, maiden, had you and the man you call Lord Netterville -come hither at the time when, according to the date of your -certificate, you should have done, you might, peradventure, have -found no one to dispute possession with ye. -{310} -But behold! instead of that, the Lord hath vexed and troubled ye; -he hath forced ye to tarry, even as he forced his rebellious -people to tarry in the wilderness; he hath afflicted ye with -sickness; he hath even visited ye with death, in order that I, -his servant and soldier on the battle-field, might go up and take -peaceable possession of that land which ye vainly fancied to be -all your own." - -"But are not these the very lands--a portion of the barony of -Murrisk--which are set down in our certificate?" said Nellie, not -even yet comprehending thoroughly the greatness of the impending -blow. "How, then, noble sir, do you speak of them as yours?" - -"Yea, and indeed," replied the officer, "these are of a certainty -those very lands. Nevertheless, maiden, thou hast yet to learn -that, if thou hast a certificate, I also am provided with a -debenture, signed and delivered to me two months ago. -Consequently, my order on the estate being of a later date, doth -override and make void thine own, which, moreover, on looking -closer, I do perceive to be merely a _de bene esse_, a poor -make-shift for the time being, until something more permanent -could be assigned thee." - -"God help us, then!" cried Nellie; utterly overwhelmed by this -last announcement. "God help us, then, and pardon those who have -trifled so cruelly with our fortunes! Strangers we are, and -without a place whereon to lay our heads; what then is to become -of us in these deserted mountains?" - -"Thou shouldst have looked to all that ere coming hither," he -answered harshly; "as matters are at present, I would counsel -thee to return to Loughrea at thy quickest speed, and to seek -some other grant of land from their honors the commissioners, ere -all that which is left in their hands has been absolutely -disposed of." - -"We cannot," said Nellie in a tone of hopeless sorrow, which, -save that of the old fanatic himself, touched the hearts of all -who heard her. "Look!" she added, turning, and with a sudden wave -of the arm indicating Lord Netterville, who, utterly exhausted by -his late excitement, was leaning against the bank in a half state -of stupor. "Look at that old man, and tell me how is he to -retrace his footsteps? Hope, indeed, aided him on his journey -hither, but what hope is left to give him courage to go back?" - -"As I have already said, thou shouldst have looked to all that -ere undertaking such a journey," he answered shortly, and -preparing to ride forward; for he saw that in his daughter's face -which made him feel sure that she would not remain much longer -silent. "And now get you both hence at once, I counsel ye; for my -choler is apt to rise in the presence of the enemies of the Lord, -and I may not much longer be able to restrain my hand from -striking--" - -"Strike, if you will, but hear me!" cried Nellie, springing -forward so suddenly that she had caught hold of his bridle-rein -ere he was even aware of her intention. "If yonder tower is -indeed your home, give him a night's shelter in it--only one -night--a single night--that he may rest from his weary travels." - -"Nay, by the sword of Gideon, not even for an hour!" he cried -furiously. "Let go, maiden, let go! or I will strike thee as if -thou wert a mad dog in my path." - -But Nellie was by this time driven to desperation, and she would -not let go. She clung to the bridle-rein, crying out, "Only one -night--one little night. -{311} -God is my witness that if there was but so much as a peasant's -hut within reach, I would die sooner than ask such a favor at -your hands." - -Nearly as frantic with passion as she was with despair, he forced -his horse to rear again and again, in order to compel her to let -go; but finding, at last, that he could not shake her off, he -raised his riding-whip, and it would have fallen heavily on her -shoulders if, by a similar and almost simultaneous movement, -Ormiston and his daughter had not hastily interfered. - -"Major Hewitson!" cried the former in a warning voice--and, -"Father, you shall not! you dare not!" cried the girl, spurring -her horse eagerly forward, and utterly regardless of the fact -that its heels were actually grazing the edge of the precipice as -she tried to wrest his whip from her father's grasp. - -All the tenderness of the man's heart was wrapt up in his -daughter, and even in the midst of that moment of mad passion he -saw her danger, and cried out: - -"Have a care, child, have a care! or you and your horse will be -over the precipice ere you know what you are doing." - -"Throw away your whip then, or I will back him over it with my -own hands," she cried passionately; "for I would sooner perish at -once than see my own father strike a helpless girl like myself." - -"Send the Irish beggar hence at once then, will you?" he answered -furiously, flinging away his whip as he spoke, and, tearing his -rein by main force from Nellie's grasp, he galloped rapidly down -the hill. - -Instead of following him, the girl backed her horse further into -the recess in order to make room, and then waved her hand with -the gesture of an empress to the others to pass on. With the -exception of Ormiston they all obeyed, and no sooner had they got -to a little distance than she flung herself off her horse, and, -tossing the reins to her companion, threw herself into the arms -of the astonished Nellie, exclaiming: - -"O my God, my God! and these are the deeds that we do in thy -name! When wilt thou arise and come to judgment?" - -"Nay, grieve not thus, dear lady," said Nellie, generously -forgetting her own great wrongs at the sight of such voluntary -humiliation. "You at any rate have no cause to grieve, for -willingly you have done no wrong." - -"Call me not lady; I am but a girl, a woman like yourself; only"--she -added with a touch of pride so like humility that it was -almost as beautiful--"only, probably, of meaner nature, and -certainly of less lofty lineage. What can I do for you? Alas! -alas! why do I ask, for what _can_ I do? Shelter, except in -my father's house, I have none to offer; and in that, after what -he has said just now, I could not even ensure your lives." - -Here the young officer, who had by this time dismounted and -approached the girl, endeavored to insinuate his purse into her -hands; but she shook her head impatiently, and said, "Money! -money! of what use can money be in such wilds as these?" - -Nevertheless, on second thoughts, she took the purse, and would, -perhaps, in a hesitating, shame-faced sort of way, have offered -it to Nellie, if the latter had not said decidedly: - -"As you say, dear lady, it would be worse than useless. Neither -are we beggars. We did but seek what we thought to be our own. -And now," she added sadly, "we ask still less--even that which -the very beggars are thought to have a right to claim--but a -shelter for a single night." - -{312} - -"And even that I cannot give you," said the girl disconsolately; -"but at least," she added suddenly, in a brighter tone, "I think -I can tell you where to find that." She pointed with her whip to -a narrow path branching off a little lower down the hill, and -leading apparently in the direction of the sea. "Follow that -path--it is neither long nor difficult--and it will lead you to -the waters of the creek below. At the very foot of the hill, -where the path ends, you will find a hut; if empty, it will at -least give you shelter; if otherwise, its owner will, I doubt -not, make you welcome. He ought at least," she added quickly, -"for he also has lost something. Trust me, you are not the only -ones whom we have robbed for the achievement of our own -greatness. Farewell! and if ever you pray for your enemies, put -us among the worst and foremost." - -She turned to her horse as she finished speaking. Her companion -would fain have aided her to mount; but putting him pettishly on -one side, she leaped into the saddle without assistance, and -galloped back by the road which she had come. The officer, thus -repulsed, bowed respectfully to Nellie, and then, remounting his -own horse, followed in the same direction. She cantered on, -however, as if unconscious of his existence, merely urging her -horse to a quicker speed, in order to escape him--a manoeuvre -which he took care, by imitating, to render useless. Finding, at -last, that he would not be shaken off, she pulled up suddenly, -and said angrily, and without even deigning to look round: - -"Why do you follow me? Why do you dog my footsteps? Ride back to -my father, will you? He is of your own creed and calling, and -will better appreciate your society that I can." - -"Nay, Ruth," he was beginning, but she interrupted him almost -fiercely-- - -"Call me by my own name if you wish that I should answer you. To -you at least, and to the world, I will still be Henrietta, though -at my father's hands I am compelled to submit to this mummery of -a change of name." - -"Well, then, Henrietta," he answered quietly, but very gravely, -"believe me, I did not mean to anger you. I said 'Ruth,' because -that name is so often on your father's lips that it has begun to -come almost naturally to mine. I would not willingly anger you at -any time, and least of all, just now, when, in spite of what I -must call your unkind waywardness toward myself, I love and -worship you, as I never did before, for that nobleness of nature -which recoils, at any cost, from all that savors of injustice." - -"Carry your love and worship elsewhere, then, for I will have -none of it," she said, evidently in nowise mollified by his -apology. "What should I care for your good opinion? Do you not -feel in your heart of hearts, or must I tell you, that we are -divided, as far as the north pole from the south, in our most -intimate convictions, and that what you and my father call -religion I consider as fanaticism--or that something which is -worse than fanaticism, or almost than crime--hypocrisy." - -"You cannot believe what you are saying," he answered, now -indignant in his turn; "you know how well and truly I have loved -you, and you cannot believe that I am a hypocrite; you -cannot--you could not--you would not so dishonor me in your -thoughts--you who have promised to be my wife!" - -{313} - -"I retract that promise, then," she answered passionately, -"wholly and entirely I retract it. Never, so help me God, will I -become the mother of a race of fanatics, who will find, for such -deeds as we have seen done today, their pretext in religion." - -"Henrietta!" he cried, the blood rushing to his temples, "you -cannot be in earnest!" - -"See if I am not!" she answered coldly. "Ride back to my father -now, and let me go my ways alone to the tower." - -"I will go to him, Henrietta; but it will only be to tell him -that I am about to return to my appointment in Dublin--unless, -indeed," he added, with a lingering hope of -reconciliation--"unless, Henrietta, you retract." - -"I never retract," she answered shortly. - -"Then, farewell!" he said, with a half movement, as if he would -have taken her hand." - -"Farewell!" she answered, affecting not to see his offered hand, -and shaking the reins loose on her horse's neck. - -Ormiston turned his horse's head in the opposite direction, and -went forward a few paces; then he stopped and looked after his -late companion. She was moving on, but slowly, and like one lost -in thought. Stirred by a sudden honest impulse of regret, he -turned and followed her. Henrietta heard him, and instantly -checked her horse, as if determined not to suffer him to ride any -longer at her side. - -"Henrietta!" he said. - -"What would you?" she asked sullenly. - -"Only unsay that one word, 'hypocrisy,' and let things be as they -were before." - -"I never unsay what I have said," she answered coldly. - -"Neither do I," he retorted, now angry in earnest; "and I swear -to you that I will see you no more until under your own hand and -seal you retract, of your own accord, what you have said to-day, -and tell me to return." - -"Farewell, then, for ever," she replied, with rather a bad -assumption of indifference--"for ever, if so it must be." - -"Farewell," he answered, without, however, as even in that moment -Henrietta noticed, adding the ominous "for ever." "Farewell, and -God forgive you for so trifling with the honest heart that loves -you, and has loved you from your childhood. Some day--too late, -perhaps--you will do me justice." - -And so they parted. - - - Chapter VII. - -Left to herself, Nellie Netterville sat down to collect her -scattered senses. The situation in which she found herself -needed, in truth, a calm sense and courage, not often the -heritage of petted girlhood, in order to bear up successfully -against its difficulties. Happily for herself, the brave Irish -girl was possessed of both in no common degree, and the trials -and troubles of the last few months had ripened these faculties -into almost unnatural maturity. The tale she had just told to -Major Hewitson was free of the smallest attempt at exaggeration, -being, in fact, rather under than over the measure of the truth. -Lord Netterville, in common with many another unfortunate -gentleman of the English Pale, had been kept dancing attendance -on the commissioners at Loughrea until both hope and money failed -him. -{314} -The absence of home comforts told heavily upon a frame already -weakened by age and sorrow; and just at the moment when he could -least bear up against it, he was attacked by the plague, or some -disease analogous to the plague, which at that very time was -making most impartial havoc among the native Irish and their -foes. Thanks to an iron constitution, he recovered, but he rose -from his sickbed, if not absolutely a child in mind, yet as -utterly incapable of aiding Nellie by advice, or of steering his -own way unassisted through the troubled waters on which his ill -fate had cast him, as if he had been in very deed an infant. His -servant was already dead, therefore the whole responsibility of -their future movements devolved upon his granddaughter. She -proved herself, fortunately, not altogether unequal to the -occasion, never losing sight for a moment of the purpose which -had brought her to Loughrea, and tormenting the commissioners -until, less moved by her youth and helplessness than by a desire -to rid themselves of her troublesome importunities, they gave her -the certificate which she had shown to Major Hewitson, and which, -as he had instantly perceived, was rendered worse than useless to -its possessor by the fact of its being merely a temporary -arrangement. Ignorant alike of Latin and law language, Nellie -had, naturally enough, supposed it to be a permanent appointment; -and, selling their horses and every article of value in her -possession, in order to pay the debts contracted at Loughrea, she -had made the rest of the journey on foot, leading, soothing, and -encouraging the old man as if he had been a child, and buoying up -his courage and her own by fanciful descriptions of that home in -the far west, where she trusted his last days might be passed in -peace. She had tried to deceive _him_; she never attempted -to deceive _herself_ as to the nature of their future -prospects; yet unpleasant as her anticipations had been, they -were so much more agreeable than the terrible realities upon -which she had just stumbled, that she felt for a few moments, as -she sat there alone among the hills, as if the very gates of an -earthly Paradise had been closed against her. But it was no -moment for the indulgence of such natural regrets. She looked at -her grandfather, and felt that his life was in her hands. She -remembered, too, her promise to her mother to be son as well as -daughter to his age; and sternly and tearlessly, for tears were -too weak an expression for such desolation as she was feeling -then, she set herself to consider what her next move ought to be. -Food and shelter for the old man--(and it needed not another -glance at his pale face to tell her how much both were needed) -food and shelter--these must be her first object. It would be -time enough after they had been secured to decide as to the -feasibility of a return journey to Loughrea. She rose, and -drawing her hood, which, in her struggle with Major Hewitson, had -fallen back upon her shoulders, once more over her head, she took -her grandfather by the hand, and led him quietly and silently -down the path pointed out to her by Henrietta. It had originally -been a sheep-path, and proved far less difficult than she had -expected, winding gradually round the hills until it reached a -sort of creek or estuary formed by the inrushing, for a couple of -miles, of the waters from the bay beyond. It was a lonely, but a -lovely spot, and Nellie's heart beat more calmly as she paused to -listen to the soft rocking of the waters in their inland bed, and -to feel the fresh breeze which they brought from the ocean -playing on her heated brow. -{315} -There were no visible signs near her of that human habitation of -which Major Hewitson's daughter had so confidently spoken; but at -last, after having searched the landscape steadily in all -directions, she thought she saw something like a blue curl of -smoke rising out of a sort of mound, which, at first sight, -seemed neither more nor less than a cairn of unusually large -dimensions, nearly hidden by clumps of gorse and heather at least -six feet high, and bushy and luxuriant in proportion. On nearer -inspection, however, it proved to be a hut, such a hut as even to -this day may be sometimes seen in the wildest parts of the wild -west, rounded at the gables, built of rough stones, rudely yet -solidly put together, and with a roof laid on of fern and -shingle, carefully secured from the violence of the western winds -by bands of twisted straw. A hole in this roof stood proxy both -for window and for chimney, and the doorway was literally -doorless. A sort of grass mat hung across it from the inside, -being evidently considered by the inhabitants as ample protection -against cold and wet, the only foes which extreme poverty has got -to boast of. - -For five seconds, at the very least, Nellie stood gazing on this -frail barrier with a feeling as if it would require more than -human courage to announce her presence to the human beings (she -knew not whether they were friends or enemies) who might be -stowed away behind it. At last, with a shaking hand, she drew -back a small corner of the matting, and, without daring to look -in, saluted the possible inmates, as the natives of the country -salute each other to this day in Irish, "God save all here!" -There was no answer, and, lifting the curtain a little higher, -she looked in. - -The hut was empty, though a few embers burning on the floor gave -sufficient evidence of its having been recently inhabited. Of -furniture, save a single wooden settle, Nellie could discover -none; but a gun was standing upright against the opposite wall, -and near it hung a very Spanish-seeming mantle, looking as much -out of place in that miserable abode as its owner would probably -have done if he had been there to claim it. The solitude, and the -sight of that gun and mantle, made her feel far more nervous than -she would have felt if a dozen of the natives of the soil had -been congregated within. It seemed to imply some mystery, and, to -the helpless, mystery always has a touch of fear about it. -Moreover, it made her suddenly conscious that she was an -intruder, an idea which would never have come into her head if -her possible hosts had been of that frank-hearted race to whom -the virtue of hospitality comes so easily that it does not even -occur to them to call it "virtue." On the other hand, her -grandfather's pale face and sunken features seemed to plead with -her against all unseasonable timidity. Hastily, therefore, and as -though she were about to commit a theft, she put aside the -matting, drew the old man inside, and then replaced the screen as -carefully as if she hoped in this manner to hide her audacious -proceedings from the owner of the hut--or rather, if the truth -must be told, from the owner of the mysterious mantle. This first -step fairly taken, Nellie suddenly grew brave, and resolving to -make the most of their impromptu habitation, she drew the settle -nearer to the fire, and made Lord Netterville sit down upon it. - -{316} - -The sight of the embers seemed to revive the latter, less perhaps -from any need he felt of its warmth on that bright sunny day than -from the home-like associations which it awakened in his mind. He -smiled a wintry smile, with more of old age than of gladness in -it, and stretched forth his withered hands to warm them in the -blaze. Then, as if suddenly waking up for the first time to a -perception of his being foodless, he asked Nellie if supper would -soon be ready, for that in truth he was well-nigh starving. -Starving he must have been, that poor Nellie knew well enough -already; for they had exhausted their scanty stock of food that -very day, and he had tasted nothing since the early dawn. She -soothed him, however, and besought him to have yet a little -patience, and then, with a desperate resolution to appropriate to -his use whatever of food the hut might happen to contain, she -commenced a careful examination of its hidden nooks. There were, -of course, neither shelves nor cupboards, or anything, indeed, -which even suggested the idea of provisions having been ever kept -there; but at last, when she had almost begun to give up the -search in despair, she espied something like the handle of a -basket peeping out from beneath a bundle of firewood which lay -heaped in one corner of the hut upon the floor. Pouncing upon -this at once, she discovered that it contained a couple of -sea-trout, upon which the owner of the mansion had probably -intended making an early dinner, for they were already prepared -for broiling. With renewed energy Nellie took a handful of dried -brushwood, and threw it upon the half-extinguished fire, after -which she proceeded, in her new character of cook, to lay, in a -very leisurely and scientific manner, the fish upon the embers. -So engrossed was she in this occupation, that she never perceived -that the mat curtain over the doorway had been once more lifted -up, and that some one was watching her proceedings from the -outside. This some one was a man, apparently about twenty-five or -thirty years of age, with a figure rather above than below the -middle height, and a face which, full of energy and expression as -it was, was by no means regularly handsome, though the large, -Murillo-looking eyes by which it was lighted up deceived casual -beholders into a conviction that it was. - -He was clad in a garb which might have belonged to the native -fishermen of the coast, yet no one could have mistaken him for -other than a gentleman and soldier, as he stood there, holding -back the screen of matting, and gazing, with a look curiously -compounded of amusement and annoyance, at the scene presented by -the interior of the cottage. The latter feeling, however, was -evidently in the ascendant--so much so, indeed, that he had -actually made a half-movement, as if to retreat and leave the hut -to its uninvited occupants, when something--was it a glimpse of -Nellie's delicate profile, as she stooped over the glowing -embers?--induced him to change his mind, and stepping quietly -over the threshold, he dropped the screen behind him with an -energy and good-will which seemed to indicate that, instead of -his premeditated flight, he had made up his mind to accept with a -good grace, and perhaps even to enjoy, this unexpected addition -to his society. The sound of the falling mat warned Nellie of the -advent of a stranger, and, crimson with shame and fear, she stood -up to receive him. He gazed upon her steadily, the half-feeling -of annoyance, still visible on his clouded brow, yielding -gradually to a look of intense but reverent admiration, and -removing his fisherman's cap from his head, he bowed courteously, -and said in English: - -{317} - -"God save all here, and a hundred thousand welcomes also, if, as -I apprehend, you are fugitives like myself from tyranny and -injustice." - -There was an indescribable tact and courtesy in the way in which -he combined this announcement of his being the master of the hut -with a frank and ready welcome to his unknown visitants, which -made Nellie feel at once that she had to do, not only with a man -of gentle birth but of high and polished breeding also. Yet this -fact seemed for the moment rather to add to her difficulty than -to decrease it, and secretly wishing that the fish could be made, -by some magical process, to disappear from the embers upon which -it was comfortably broiling, she placed herself as much as she -could between it and the stranger as she stammered out her -apology for intrusion. Did he see the fish? and did he guess at -the petty larceny she had just committed? Nellie fancied she saw -something like an amused look in his eye, which made her feel hot -and cold by turns with the consciousness of discovered guilt, but -the rest of his features wore no smile, nothing but an expression -of kind and courteous sympathy as he eagerly interrupted her -excuses-- - -"Say no more, dear lady, say no more, trust me I have not now to -learn for the first time to what dire straits the sad necessity -of these days of woe may bring us. And, therefore, to all who -come to this poor hut, but more especially to those who, for -honor and for conscience sake, have laid down wealth and power -elsewhere, I have but one word--one greeting, and that is the -old Irish one, of a hundred thousand welcomes." - -"A hundred thousand welcomes!" repeated a feeble, quivering voice -close to the stranger's elbow. He turned and looked for the first -time steadily at Lord Netterville, of whose presence up to that -moment he had been barely conscious. The old man had risen from -his seat, and stood smiling and bowing courteously, evidently -thinking he was doing the honors of a home, of which--however -humble--he was yet the undoubted master. - -"Our house is poor, sir," he went on, "once, indeed, we boasted -of a better; but let that pass. Such as it is--such as our -enemies have made it--you may reckon assuredly upon meeting an -Irish welcome in it." - -"Sir," whispered Nellie through her tears, fearing lest the -stranger might break in too rudely on the old man's delusion. "He -is old--he has been ill--he fancies he has reached his home; you -must excuse him." - -The unknown turned his eyes upon the girl with a look so full of -reverent sympathy, that it went straight to her heart, never -afterward to be effaced from thence. She felt that her -grandfather would be safe in such kindly hands, and was turning -quietly away when Lord Netterville, still enacting his fancied -character of host, threw a handful of dry wood upon the fire, and -the blaze that instantly ensued fell full upon his features, -which had hitherto been barely visible in the gloom. The stranger -started violently. - -"Good God!" he cried, in a tone of irrepressible astonishment. -"Is it possible that I see Lord Netterville, and in such a -plight?" - -"You know my grandfather, then?" cried Nellie joyously, feeling -as if the stranger must have been sent by Providence especially -to help her in the hour of her utmost need. "You know my -grandfather?" - -{318} - -"I ought, at any rate," he answered, with a sad smile, as he took -Lord Netterville's proffered hand. "For we fought together and -were beaten at Kilrush; my first battle, and, as I suppose, his -last." - -"Ha!" cried the old man, "Kilrush! Kilrush! who speaks to me of -Kilrush? Were you there, sir? Time must have played sad tricks -upon my memory then, for, truth to say, I do not recognize you." - -"Nay, my good lord," said the stranger soothingly, "it would be -stranger still if you had done so, for I was but a beardless boy -in those days. Nevertheless, I remember _you_, Lord -Netterville, and surely you cannot have altogether forgotten the -cheer we gave when you, a tried and veteran soldier, rode up to -serve with us as a volunteer in the regiment of your gallant -son." - -"I remember! I remember!" cried the old man eagerly. "It was a -bright and glorious morning, and we charged them gallantly--a -bright and glorious morning, but with a sad and bloody ending. -Alas! alas!" he added, his voice falling suddenly from its -trumpet-like tone of exultation to an old man's wail of sorrow. -"Alas! alas! how many of the best and bravest that we had among -us lay dead and trampled in the dust, as we withdrew from that -fatal field." - -He bowed his head upon his breast, and remained for a little -while absorbed in thought, and Nellie took advantage of the pause -to say: - -"You knew my father, sir? You must have known him if you were -near Lord Netterville at Kilrush; for father and son charged side -by side, and were seldom, as I have since been told, ten minutes -out of each other's sight during the whole of that bloody -battle." - -"Knew your father? Yes, dear lady--if your father was, as I -suppose, Colonel Netterville--I knew him well. He was the bosom -friend of my uncle and namesake, Roger Moore of Leix, who placed -me in his regiment when I joined the Irish army." - -"Roger Moore of Leix," cried Nellie, a flash of enthusiasm -lighting up her face; "Roger Moore--the brave--the gifted--the -first leader in a noble cause, whose very name was a battle-cry, -and whose followers rushed into fight, shouting for 'God--our -Lady--and Roger Moore!' Yes, yes; he was my father's friend. I -remember even when I was a child how he used to talk about him. -And _you_," she added, with a sudden change of voice and -manner, and placing both her hands in his, "_you_, then, are -that Roger Moore, the younger, in whose arms my poor father -died." - -"At the battle of Benburb," said Moore, in a low voice; "a -glorious battle--well fought, and well won, and yet for ever to -be regretted, for the loss of one of Ireland's bravest and most -faithful soldiers." - -"Grandfather," cried Nellie, suddenly withdrawing her hands from -Roger, and blushing scarlet at the inadvertence of her own action -which had placed them in his, "this is Captain Moore, who bore my -wounded father out of the press of battle, and to whom we are -indebted for that last and loving farewell which he sent to us in -dying." - -But instead of replying with an eagerness corresponding to her -own, Lord Netterville gazed vacantly upon the stranger, evidently -without the slightest recollection of his name or person, and -repeated, in a low mechanical voice, his previously-muttered -welcome. - -"He does not remember!" said Roger. "Alas! alas! for that bright -intellect, once cloudless as a summer's noon!" - -{319} - -"Hush, hush!" whispered Nellie. "Recollection is beginning to -return." And Lord Netterville did, in fact, seem to be making a -languid effort at gathering up his scattered thoughts, for he -looked at Roger, and said feebly: - -"You knew my son, sir?--you knew my son?--then, indeed, you are -very welcome. He was a brave boy, and fought for his king and -country--fought and fell--on the field of--the field of--the -name--which I thought never to forget--has almost escaped me." - -"Benburb," Roger ventured to interpose. - -"Benburb! Ay, that was the very name--Benburb!--my memory does -not fail me, sir; but I have been much tried of late--or we rode -too far this morning--for I feel very faint." - -He tried to draw back from the fire as he spoke, but he tottered, -and would have fallen if Roger had not caught him by the arm, and -made him sit down upon the settle. - -"He is faint for want of food," said Nellie hastily; "we have -been wandering all day among the hills, and he has not broken his -fast since morning." - -Roger did not answer, but signing to her to support Lord -Netterville, he went straight to some invisible cranny in the -walls of the hut, and drew thence a bottle of strong cordial. -Pouring a little of this into a broken mug, he made the old man -swallow it, and then stood beside him, anxiously watching the -result. Happily it was favorable--in a few minutes Lord -Netterville revived, the color returned to his wan cheek, and -turning to Nellie, he asked her, in a half-whisper, "if supper -would soon be ready?" Shyly, and blushing scarlet, Nellie nodded -an affirmative, and forgetting all her previous shame in anxiety -for her grandfather, she was about to resume her office as cook, -when, with a half-smile on his face, Roger Moore put her quietly -aside. - -"Nay, Mistress Netterville, remember that I am master here, and -that I forbid you to lay hands upon that fish? I have always been -cook in my own proper person to the establishment, and I cannot -allow you to supersede me in the office." - -"Forgive me!" said Nellie, tears starting to her eyes, and half -fancying in her confusion that he was angry in earnest. "I could -not help it, for he was starving." - -"Do not misunderstand me, I entreat you," said Roger, in a voice -of deep and real feeling; "I should be a brute if I objected to -anything you have or could have done; I only meant that I -objected to your continuing in that office; for so long as the -daughter of my old colonel is under my roof, (even though it be -but a poor mud sheeling,) she shall do no work, with my -good-will, unfit for the hands of a princess." He busied himself -while speaking in drawing forth, from that same recess in which -he had found the cordial, some thin oaten cakes, a few wooden -platters, and one or two knives and spoons of such massive -silver, that Nellie could not help thinking they were as much out -of keeping with the rest of the furniture as Roger himself -appeared to be with the hut, of which he was doing the honors in -such simple and yet such courtly fashion. He would not even let -her hold the platter upon which he placed the fish as he took it -from the embers, and he himself then brought it to Lord -Netterville, and pressed him, as tenderly as if he had been a -child, to partake of this impromptu supper. - -{320} - -The old man yielded, nothing loath, and so, indeed, did his -grandchild; for, though very fair to look at, no goddess was poor -Nellie, but a young and growing girl with the healthy appetite of -sixteen. She accepted, therefore, Roger's invitation without the -smallest affectation of reluctance, and sitting down on the floor -beside her grandfather, shared the contents of his platter with -innocent and undisguised enjoyment. With all her sense and -courage, she was as yet in many things a perfect child, yielding -as easily as a child might do to the first ray of sunshine that -brightened on her path, and accepting the happiness of the -present moment as unrestrainedly as if never even suspecting the -shadows that were lurking in her future. Now, therefore, that she -felt her grandfather was in safe and helpful keeping, she threw -off the sense of responsibility which had weighed her down for -months, and became almost gay. Color rose to her wasted cheek, -light sparkled in her eyes, and she responded to Roger's efforts -to make her feel comfortable and at home, with such innocent and -unbounded faith in his wish and power to befriend them, that he -vowed an inward vow never to forsake her, but to guard her, as if -she had been in very deed his sister, through the trials and -dangers of her unprotected exile. When their meal was over, and -while her grandfather slumbered in the quiet warmth of the -peat-fire, she told Roger Moore her story, simply and briefly as -she might have told it to a brother, beginning at her departure -from her ancestral home, and ending with her encounter with the -English strangers among the mountains. - -"It is Major Hewitson," said Roger, "in whose favor I have been -despoiled of my old home. Major Hewitson and his pretty daughter -'Ruth,' as he chooses to call her, in order to blot out the fact -that her name is Henrietta, and that she had a popish queen for -her godmother. She forgets it not herself, however," he added, -with a smile; "for her mother was of noble race, and they say -that she is a true cavalier at heart, and pines like a caged bird -in the network of demure fanaticism which her father has twined -around her." - -"She has a lovely face and a kind and honest heart, for certain," -said Nellie. "She knows you also, now I think of it; for she it -was who directed me to this hut, with a hint that I should here -find a friend." - -"Did she?" said Roger, with genuine fervour. "Nay, then, for that -one good deed I needs must pardon her, that she, or her father -for her, have robbed me of my inheritance. And now I think of -it," he added, with a touch of sly malice in his smile, "you -also, if you came hither to seek land, must have been bound on -the same errand; for both these baronies, 'Umhall uaghtragh' and -'Umhall ioghtragh,' is the country of the O'Mailly's, and, in -right of my grandmother, my own." - -Nellie blushed scarlet. "Alas!" she said, "I knew not whither or -to whom they sent us; but sure am I, at all events, that we never -would have accepted of any home at the expense of its rightful -owners." - -"Nay," said Roger, "I did but jest. Would indeed that it was to -you I had been compelled to yield it! In spite of that fact you -should have had, I promise you, a right royal welcome. And now I -must needs explain. This sheeling, you must know, is not really -my home. It is but a temporary refuge, of which I have two or -three along the coast; for I have fought battles enough against -England's new-fangled government to have deserved the honors of -outlawry at her hands. -{321} -My life consequently has been none too safe at any time these six -months past, and now that yonder gray-haired fanatic, who would -ask nothing better than to seal his title in my blood, has got -possession of these lands, it is of course less secure than ever. -My most permanent home, however, is on an island, facing the bay -on this side, and washed by the waters of the Atlantic on the -other. It is poor enough, God knows, yet capable of giving better -accommodation than such a hut as this is. Will you and your -grandfather be content to share it with me?" - -Tears rushed into the dark eyes of Nellie. - -"Providence is good," she answered simply--"Providence is very -good, and gives us friends when we least expect them." - -"Well, then, it is a bargain," cried Roger gayly; "and now. -Mistress Netterville, come and see the craft in which you will -have to make the voyage." - -He pulled down the "mysterious mantle" as he spoke, and Nellie -saw that, instead of covering the bare wall as she had imagined, -it merely concealed an opening into an inner and smaller portion -of the hut, built right over the creek, and made to answer the -purpose of a boat-house. Into this the water rushed, so as to -form a basin deep enough for the floating of a boat, and one -accordingly lay safe within it, concealed by the overhanging roof -from observation on the outside. - -It was not flat-bottomed like the native craft, but had been -evidently built both for strength and speed by one who understood -his business, and its chief cargo at this particular moment -seemed to be a quantity of luxuriant heather. - -To this Roger pointed with a smile. "If I were a Highlander," he -said, "you might suspect me of second-sight; for I have gathered, -without thinking of it, double the usual quantity of heather, -that which we outlaws perforce use for bedding. I hope you will -not mind roughing it a little." - -"I have roughed it a good deal within the last few months," said -Nellie, "and I do not think you will find me difficult to please. -Is the boat quite safe? I have never been out on the real sea -before." - -"Safe!" said the young man, with a little pardonable pride in his -dark eyes. "I built her myself, and she has weathered more than -one bad storm since the first day that I sailed her. I call her -the 'Grana Uaille,' after the stout old chieftainess whose island -kingdom I inhabit, and which, with the other lands of which Major -Hewitson has robbed me, I inherit from my grandmother. But the -sun is getting low. Do you not think we had better start at once, -and get the voyage over before night-fall?" - -To this Nellie gladly assented, and between them they conducted -Lord Netterville to the boat. Roger arranged the heather so as to -form a sort of couch, and, with the mantle thrown over him to -protect him from the damp, the old man found himself so -comfortable that he settled himself quietly for slumber. Then -Roger put up his sail, and with a fresh and favorable wind they -glided down the creek. - -Nellie would not lie down, but she sat back in the boat with a -lazy kind of gladness in her heart, which, rightly interpreted, -would probably have been found to mean perfect rest of body and -mind. Such rest as she had not felt for months! The waters -widened as they approached the bay, and Nellie marked each new -feature in the scene with an interest all the keener and more -enjoyable, that everything she saw was so unlike anything she had -ever seen before. -{322} -Accustomed as she had been to the tamer cultivation of her native -country, the savage grandeur of that wild west, with its poverty -in human life, its wealth in that which was merely animal, took -her completely by surprise, and she gazed with unwearied -interest, now on the undulating ranges of blue mountains which -crossed and recrossed each other like network against the sky, -then on the broad, black tracts of peat and bog land which -covered the country at their feet like a pall; listened now to -the bittern and plover as they answered each other from the -marshes, then to the shrill screams of the curlews as they rose -before the boat, darkening the air with their uncounted numbers; -or she watched a heron sweeping slowly homeward from its distant -fishing-ground--or a grand old eagle soaring solemnly upward, as -if bent on a visit to the departing sun; and her delight and -astonishment at last reached their climax in the apparition of a -seal, which, just as they cleared the creek, popped its head up -above the waves, leaving her, in spite of Roger's laughing -assurances to the contrary, well-nigh persuaded that she had seen -a mermaid. The wind continuing steady, Roger shook out his last -remaining reef, and, responding gayly to the fresh impulse, the -boat sprang forward at a racing pace. They were in Clew Bay at -last, and Nellie uttered a cry of joy--never had she seen -anything so beautiful before. Masses of clouds, with tints just -caught from the presence of the sun, soft greens and lilacs, and -pale primrose and delicate pearly white, so clear and filmy that -the evening star could be seen glancing through them, hung right -overhead, shedding a thousand hues, each more beautiful than the -other, upon the bay beneath, until it flowed like a liquid opal -round its multitude of tribute isles. Opposite, right in the very -mouth of the harbor, stood Clare Island, all alight and glowing, -as if it were in very deed the pavilion of the setting sun, -which, as it sank into the waves beyond it, wrapped tower, and -church, and slanting cliff, and winding shoreline, in such a -glory of gold and purple as made the old kingdom of Grana Uaille -look for the moment like a palace of the fairies. Nellie was -still straining her eyes for a glimpse of the Atlantic on the -other side, when the deep baying of a hound came like sad, sweet -music over the waters, and Roger slightly touched her shoulder. -They were close to the island; in another moment he had run his -boat cleverly into the little harbor and laid her alongside the -pier. A huge wolf-dog, of the old Irish breed, instantly bounded -in, nearly oversetting Nellie in his eagerness to greet his -master. - -Roger laid one restraining hand on the dog's massive head, and -removing his cap with the other, said, smiling courteously: - -"You must not be afraid of Maida, Mistress Netterville, she is as -gentle as she is strong, and has only come to add her voice to -her master's, and to bid you welcome to the outlaw's home." - - - Chapter VIII. - -Nellie slept that night the peaceful slumbers of a child; but the -habits of long weeks of care were not to be so easily shaken off, -and the first ray of sunshine that found its way through the -narrow window of her chamber roused her from her well-earned -repose. -{323} -Her first impulse was, as it had ever been of late, to spring -from her couch with a painful sense of hard duty to be -accomplished that very day; her next was to thank God with all -the fervor of a young and innocent heart for the haven of safety -into which he had guided her at last. Then she lay back upon her -pillow, and, yielding to the delightful consciousness that there -was now no immediate call upon her for exertion either of body or -mind, glanced languidly round the dimly-lighted room, and -endeavored to make a mental inventory of its contents. It was a -square chamber, forming the second story of the old tower in -which Roger had taken up his abode, and which was all that was -yet remaining of the old stronghold of Grana Uaille. The -apartment had evidently no furniture of its own to boast of, but, -having been used as a sort of lumber-room, was abundantly -supplied with articles brought hither from more favored mansions. -Nellie soon perceived that much of this so-called lumber was of -the costliest description, and represented probably the sum total -of all that had been saved from the wreck of Roger's fortune. -There were cabinets of curious workmanship, a table carved in oak -as black as ebony, a few high-backed chairs of the same material, -ornaments in gold and silver, some of ancient Celtic manufacture, -others in their more delicate workmanship bearing marks of -artistic handling, which, even to Nellie's unaccustomed eye, -betrayed their foreign origin. There were pictures, too, most of -them with the dark shadow of a Spanish hand upon them, and -swords, bucklers, weapons, and armor of all kinds, old and new, -defensive and offensive, piled up here and there in picturesque -confusion in the corners of the turret. Nellie had been amusing -herself for some minutes scanning all these treasures over and -over, and guessing at their various uses, when her attention -became suddenly riveted upon a huge coffer with bands and -mouldings of curiously-wrought brass, which stood against the -wall exactly opposite to the foot of her bed. She was still quite -girl enough to be willing to amuse herself by imagining all sorts -of impossibilities respecting the contents of this mysterious -looking piece of furniture, and she was watching it as anxiously -as if she half expected it to open of itself, when the door of -the chamber was cautiously unclosed, and the old woman, who -represented the office of cook, valet, and everything else in -Roger's establishment, crept up to her bedside as quietly as if -she fancied her to be sleeping still. - -"God's blessing and the light of heaven be on your sweet smiling -face," she ejaculated, as Nellie turned her bright, wide-open -eyes with a grateful smile upon the old hag. "Lie still a bit, -a-lannah, lie still, and take a sup of this fresh goat's whey -that I have been making for you. It will bring the color, may be, -into your pretty cheeks again; for troth, a-lannah, they are as -pale this morning as mountain roses, and not at all what they -should be in regard to a young and well-grown slip of a lassie -like yourself." - -Nellie took the tempting beverage, which Nora presented to her in -an old-fashioned silver goblet, readily enough; but checking -herself just as she was about to put it to her lips, she said, -gayly: - -"Thanks, a thousand times, my dear old woman, but I do not feel -that I need it much, and this whey would be the very thing for my -poor old grandfather. He was always accustomed to something of -the sort in the days when we were able to indulge ourselves in -such luxuries." - -{324} - -"Lord bless the child!" said the delighted Nora. "If she isn't as -gay as a bird in its mother's nest this morning, for all the -weary worry of her last night's travels. But there's no need to -be sparing of the whey, my honey, for sure I've a good sup of it -left on purpose for the old lord as soon as ever he awakens. So -drink up every drop of this, if you wouldn't have the master -scold me; for he sent it up himself, he did, and it's downright -mad he'd be if it came back to him and it not empty." - -Something in this speech, or in old Nora's way of making it, -caused the blood, the absence of which she had been just -deploring, to rush once more into Nellie's cheek; and perhaps it -was partly to hide this weakness that she took the goblet without -another word, and drained it to the dregs, playfully turning its -wrong side up as she gave it back to Nora, in order to show her -how thoroughly her directions had been complied with. Made happy -on this important point, the old woman trotted gayly out of the -room, and then Nellie rose, half-reluctantly, it must be -confessed, and commenced the duties of the toilet. They were -simple enough in her case, yet difficult, also, from their very -simplicity. Her hair, long and smooth and shining, was easily -enough disposed in braids, which, folded tightly round her head, -gave a grace and elegance to her appearance none of the fantastic -head-gear then in vogue could possibly have imparted; but when -she came to inspect the habiliments she had worn the day before, -and which perforce she must wear again that day, she became -painfully, and, perhaps for the first time, fully conscious of -the dilapidations which time and travel had wrought upon them. In -vain she rubbed out mud and grass stains, in vain she plied her -needle. The garments absolutely defied her skill, and, painfully -conscious of the fact, she was about perforce to don them as they -were, when Nora burst into the room with a look of gladness on -her face, which vanished, however, to do her justice, as -completely as if it had never been, at the sight of poor Nellie, -shame-faced and sad, vainly trying to smooth her rags into -something like decent poverty around her. - -"God help you, a-cushla!" she cried in a tone of unfeigned -compassion, laying at the same time her withered hand upon the -tattered kerchief which Nellie was trying to fold round her -stately shoulders. "God help ye! and is this all that them black -scum of Saxon robbers left ye when they turned ye out upon the -wide world to seek your fortune?" - -"It cannot be helped," said Nellie with a little choking in her -voice, though she tried hard to veil it beneath an assumption of -indifference. "And after all, these rags do but make me seem what -in fact I am--a beggar. Only I hope," she added, with a little -nervous laugh, "I hope that Colonel O'More" (she had learned his -military rank and his real name, Moore being only its Saxon -rendering, the night before from Nora) "will not be utterly -disgusted this morning when he finds out to what a pauper he -extended his hospitality last night." - -"The colonel? Is it the master that you mean? The master be -disgusted! Ah! now, listen to me, asthore, and don't be filling -your head with them ugly fancies; for you may just take my word -for it, and don't I know every turn of his mind as well as if I -was inside of it? You may just take old Nora's word for it, that -he worships the very ground you tread on, and would, too, all the -same, if you had never a brogue to the foot or a kirtle to the -back. -{325} -Beggar, indeed! Why, could not he see for himself last night that -you had been just robbed and murdered like out of your own by -them thieving Saxons, and wasn't it for that very reason that, -before he went off to his fishing this blessed morning, he gave -me the key of that big black box, and says--says he, 'Nora, my -old woman, I have been thinking that the young lady up-stairs has -been so long on the road that may be she'll be in want of a new -dress like; so, as there is nothing like decent woman-tailoring -to be found in the island, maybe she'll condescend to see if -there's anything in my poor mother's box that would suit her for -the present.' And troth, my darling," old Nora went on, "it's you -that are going to have the pick and choice of fine things; for -she was a grand Spanish lady, she was, and always went about -among us dressed like a princess." - -Nora had opened the box at the beginning of this speech, and with -every fresh word she uttered, she flung out such treasures of -finery on the floor as fully justified her panegyric on the -deceased lady's wardrobe. - -Nellie soon found herself the centre of a heap of thick silks and -shiny satins, and three-piled velvets and brocaded stuffs, -standing upright by virtue of their own rich material, and of -laces so delicate and fine, that they looked as if she had only -to breathe upon them in order to make them float away upon the -air like cobwebs. - -She was quite too much of a girl as yet to be able to resist a -close and curious examination of such treasures; nevertheless, -her instinct of the fitness of things was stronger than her -vanity, and there was an incongruity between these courtly -habiliments and her broken fortunes, which made her feel that it -would be an absolute impossibility to wear them. Selecting, -therefore, a few articles of linen clothing, she told old Nora -that everything else was far too fine for daily wear, and began, -of her own accord, to restore them to their coffer. Not so, -however, the good old Nora. That _any_ thing could be too -fine for the adornment of any one whom "the master" delighted to -honor, was a simple absurdity in her mind; and she became so -clamorous in her remonstrances, that Nellie was fain to shift her -ground, and to explain that she was bent at that moment upon -"taking a long ramble by the sea-shore, for which anything like a -dress of silk or satin (Nora's own good sense must tell her) -would be, to say the least of it, exceedingly inappropriate." - -At these words a new light seemed to dawn upon the old woman's -mind, and, plunging almost bodily down into the deep coffer in -her eagerness to gratify her _protégé_, she exclaimed, "So -it's for a walk you'd be going this morning, is it? and after all -your bother last night! Well, well, you are young still, and -would rather, I daresay, be skipping about like a young kid among -the rocks than sitting up in silks and satins as grave and -stately as if you were a princess in earnest. Something plain and -strong? That's what you'll be wanting, isn't it, a-lannah? Wait a -bit, will you? for I mind me now of a dress the old mistress had -made when she was young, for a frolic, like, that she might go -with me unnoticed to a 'pattern.' And may I never sin if I -haven't got it," she cried, diving down once more into the -coffer, and bringing up from its shining chaos a dress which, -consisting as it did simply of a madder-colored petticoat and -short over-skirt of russet brown, was not by any means very -dissimilar to the habitual costume of a peasant girl of the west -at the present hour. -{326} -Nora was right. It was, as ladies have it, "the very thing!" -Stout enough and plain enough to meet all Nellie's ideas of -propriety, and yet presenting a sharp contrast of coloring which -(forgive her, my reader, she was only sixteen) she was by no -means sorry to reflect would be exceedingly becoming to her -clear, pale complexion, and the blue-black tresses of her hair. -It was with a little blush of pleasure, therefore, that she took -it from the old woman's hand, exclaiming, "Oh! thank you, dear -Nora. It is exactly what I was wishing for--so strong and pretty. -It will make me feel just as I want to feel, like a good strong -peasant girl, able and willing to work for her living; and, to -say the truth, moreover," she added, somewhat confidentially, "I -should not at all have liked making my appearance in those fine -Spanish garments. I should have been so much afraid of the O'More -taking me for his mother." - -The annunciation of this grave anxiety set off old Nora in a fit -of laughing, under cover of which Nellie contrived to complete -her toilette. Madder-dyed petticoat, and, russet skirt, and long -dark mantle, she donned them all; but the effect, though -exceedingly pretty, was by no means exactly what she had -expected; for Nora, turning her round and round for closer -inspection, declared, with many an Irish expletive, which we -willingly spare our readers, "That dress herself how she might, -no one could ever mistake her for anything but what she really -was, namely, a born lady, and perhaps even, moreover, a princess -in disguise." With a smile and a courtesy Nellie accepted of the -compliment, and then tripped down the winding staircase of her -turret, took one peep at Lord Netterville as he lay in the room -below, in the "calliogh" or nook by the hearth, which, screened -off by a bent matting, had been allotted to him as the warmest -and most comfortable accommodation the tower afforded, and having -satisfied herself that he was still fast asleep, stepped out -gayly into the open air. She was met at the door by "Maida," who -nearly knocked her down in her boisterous delight at beholding -her again, and she was playfully defending herself from the too -rapturous advances of her four-footed friend when Roger ran his -fishing-boat alongside the pier, and, evidently mistaking Nellie -for some bare-footed visitor of Nora's, called out in Irish: - -"Hilloa, ma colleen dhas! run back to the tower, will you, and -tell Nora to fetch me down a basket, and you shall have a good -handful of fish for your pains, for I have caught enough to -garrison the island for a week." - -Guessing his mistake and enchanted at the success of her -masquerade, Nellie instantly darted into the kitchen, seized a -fishing-creel which was lying near the hearth, and rushed down to -the pier. Roger was still so busy disentangling the fish from the -net in which he had caught them, that he never even looked at -Nellie until he turned round to place them in her basket. Then -for the first time he saw who it was whom he had been so -unceremoniously ordering about upon his commission. Had Nellie -been rich and prosperous, he would probably have laughed and made -exceedingly light of the matter; but poor, and almost dependent -on his bounty as she was, he flushed scarlet to the forehead, and -apologized with an eager deference, which was not only very -touching in itself, but very characteristic of the sensitive and -generous-hearted race from which he sprung. -{327} -"But, after all," he added, in conclusion, smiling and laying his -finger lightly on the folds of Nellie's mantle, "after all, how -could I dream that, her weeks of weary wandering only just -concluded, Mistress Netterville would have been up again with the -sun, looking as fresh and bright as the morning dew, and -masquerading like a peasant girl?" - -"But I am not masquerading at all," said Nellie, laughing, and -yet evidently quite in earnest. "I am as poor as a peasant girl, -and mean to dress like one, ay, and to work like one too, so long -as I needs must be dependent upon others." - -"Not if I am still to be master here," said Roger, very -decidedly, taking the fishing-creel out of her hands. "Like a -wandering princess you have come to me; and like a wandering -princess I intend that you shall be treated, so long as you -condescend to honor me by your presence in this kingdom of barren -rocks." - -"But the fish," said the laughing and blushing Nellie; "in the -meantime, what is to be done with the fish? Nora will be in pain -about it; for she told me last night that there wasn't a blessed -fish in the bay that would be worth a 'thraneen' if only -half-an-hour were suffered to elapse between their exit from the -ocean and their introduction to her kitchen." - -"Nora is quite right," said Roger, responding freely to the young -girl's merry laugh; "and it has cost me both time and pains, I do -assure you, to impress that fact upon her mind. But Maida has -already told her all about it; and here she comes," he added, as -he caught a glimpse of the old woman descending leisurely toward -the pier. "So now we may leave the fish with a safe conscience to -her tender mercies, and, if you are inclined for a stroll, I will -take you up to yonder rocky platform, from whence you will see -the Atlantic, as unfortunately we but seldom see it on this wild -coast, in all the calm glories of a summer day." - - - To Be Continued. - --------- - -{328} - - Mexico, By Baron Humboldt [Footnote 57] - - [Footnote 57: _Essai politique sur le Royaume de - Nouvelle-Espagne_. 2 vols. fol. Chez F. Schoell. Paris.] - -Some old books, like some old married couples, deserve a second -celebration. Fifty years are surely long enough to wait for a -rehearsal of nuptials; and a married pair who can for a -half-century live at peace with themselves and the public, -respected and esteemed, receive a merited recognition and a -pleasing recompense. Books that have circulated with an equal -longevity and enjoyed universal appreciation, have also their -rights for a share of the cakes and ale. If the old people have -only a new coat and a new gown, they look young again; if the old -favorite volumes are honored with a fresh binding, their -backbones seems strengthened. It is charming to witness an -ancient dame clinging to the side of her equally ancient husband -for time almost out of mind; and it has a home look to find two -venerable tomes, called Volume One and Volume Two, supporting and -comforting each other on the same shelf in the library. When one -of the aged who have trudged on through life together drops off, -how soon the second follows after; and when one book is lost or -destroyed, its companion pines away in dust, if not in ashes, -till, finally neglected, it mysteriously disappears. - -But Baron Humboldt's two folios on New Spain or Mexico indicate -that time, as yet, has written no wrinkles on their brow. They -are good for another lease of life of equal length; their high -state of preservation has imparted a healthy appearance; and -perhaps grandchildren hereafter will be delighted to make their -acquaintance. On the present occasion, the compliments of the -season, and of the editor, must be extended to them. And in the -interchange of courtesies, let us hear what they have to say for -themselves. It is somewhat surprising in modern times that -Humboldt's folios on Mexico should have retained so long their -pre-eminence. The baron wrote upon subjects wherein our knowledge -is continually increasing, where important changes are daily made -by new discoveries, and where a constant demand is kept up for -new books. His great essay is devoted to branches of political -and social sciences, which in their nature are progressive -sciences,--geography, topography, economical and commercial -statistics. But in the case of the baron, an exception is found -in the general law in relation to the rise, reign, and fall of -standard authorities. His supremacy in the department of Mexico -was established in the first decade of the present age; it may -not be destroyed in the last. Yet one fact is truly remarkable: -his essay was published in 1811 in Paris, in the most imposing -and expensive form, in two volumes in folio; it had been -anxiously expected; it was instantly translated into all the -modern languages of Europe; it was received with eulogiums and -commendations; but no second edition was ever called for. This -singular fate of a performance so much extolled, and still -quoted, needs some explanation; and in giving this, the interest -manifested abroad in the situation of Mexico must also be -explained; for in truth, the popularity of the essay was, for the -most part, due to the importance of and attention bestowed upon -that rich province of the king of Spain on the western shores of -the Atlantic. -{329} -Mexico had been a resplendent gem in the Spanish crown from the -time of the conquest by Cortez in 1521; it had been the envy of -rival nations, and often the prize which they desired to win from -its rightful sovereign. England was eager to supply its market -with African slaves, in order to gain access to its ports, and -thereby stimulate the contraband trade. France was perpetually on -guard at the Bahamas to capture its bullion fleets, bearing their -precious cargoes from Vera Cruz to Cadiz. The Dutch defeated the -best of Spanish admirals, and carried off the richest spoils; -while all three, English, French, and Dutch cruisers, partly -privateers, partly public armed vessels with their piratical -captains and crews, in times of profound peace made private war -on every ship sailing under the flag of Castile. The capital of -that far-off country was described in the last century as one of -the wonders of the modern world. We read in _Spence's -Anecdotes_, that a travelled gentlemen who had seen several of -the most splendid courts abroad, stated in the presence of Mr. -Pope, the poet, that he had never been struck so much with -anything as by the magnificence of the City of Mexico, with its -seven hundred equipages and harness of solid silver, and ladies -walking on the paseo waited upon by their black slaves, to hold -up the trains, and shade with umbrellas their fair mistresses -from the sun. But this New Spain had nothing attractive beyond -its wealth; it had no arts, sciences, or history; no literature, -poetry, or romance. With the death of Hernando Cortez, these had -died out. No one desired more on these subjects. But everybody -wished to learn all that could be learned of its prolific -revenues, and of its enormous resources in the precious metals, -then supplying the commerce of all nations with coin. Nothing was -talked of, listened to, or considered, when discussing the -condition of that country, except its vast production of silver. -"Thank you," said Tom Hood, when dining with a London Amphictyon, -who was helping his plate too profusely, "thank you, alderman; -but if it is all the same to you, I will take the balance in -money." Interest in Mexico was taken in nothing else. - -It must be remembered that credit in commerce is of recent -origin, and paper currency of still more recent creation. Both, -comparatively speaking, were in their infancy at the close of the -last century. Precious metals were then the sole, or at least the -great, medium of commercial exchanges; and consequently, silver -and gold performed a more important part in the markets than they -do now. They were more highly appreciated and sought after. Then -it was, that the Mexican mines yielded the far greater portion of -the total product; and, of course, the control of these mines was -supposed to afford the control of the commerce of the world. -Economists and statesmen, therefore, turned their gaze upon that -strange land beyond sea, as the only land in that direction -worthy of their notice. But the notice bestowed upon it was -absorbing. Napoleon, availing himself of the imbecility of the -king of Spain, and of the venality of the Prince of Peace, -endeavored to divert the Mexican revenues from the royal House of -Trado at Seville to the imperial treasury of France. Ouvrard, -also, the most daring speculator in the most gigantic schemes -under Napoleon, the contractor-general for the armies and navy of -the French empire, undertook, on his own responsibility, to enter -into a private partnership with the Spanish sovereign to -monopolize the trade of Mexico, and divide equally the profits. -{330} -Napoleon assented to this arrangement; English bankers took part -in the negotiation; and the British government under William Pitt -gave it their sanction and aid. Yet, strange to relate, all this -transpired while England was at war with France and Spain, and a -British fleet blockaded the harbor of Vera Cruz. These hostile -nations were drained of money, and wanted an immediate supply. -France had anticipated the public revenues to meet the imperial -necessity; the Bank of England had stopped specie payments; -Madrid was threatened with a famine from a series of failures in -the crops at home, and no funds were in the royal coffers to -purchase wheat abroad. Thus all were clamorous for coin, which -Mexico only could produce. It was known that fifty millions of -silver dollars were on deposit in the Consulado of Vera Cruz, -awaiting shipment to Spain; and it was well known, also, that, if -shipped, the greater portion of the amount would soon find its -way to Paris and London. In this state of affairs, the emergency -became so pressing upon the belligerents, that their war policy -was compelled to succumb; the blockade was raised and the bullion -exported. We shall not soon forget how a similar exigency in the -late war compelled the Lincoln administration to permit -provisions being furnished to the Confederates, in order to -procure cotton to strengthen our finances. Cotton was king of -commerce in 1864, Silver was king in 1804. - -England, at the same time, was meditating seriously upon the -resources and riches of New Spain. Aware of the importance -attached by the British cabinet to the subject, Dumouriez, the -distinguished French republican exile, then in London, addressed -Mr. Windham, the Secretary of War and for the Colonies, a paper -advocating its conquest. The general called attention to the fact -that, once in English occupancy, "the commerce of the two seas -will be in your hands; the metallic riches of Spanish America -will pour into England; you will deprive Spain and Bonaparte of -them; and this monetary revolution will change the political face -of Europe." It seems Mr. Windham entertained the project, and -referred it to Sir Arthur Wellesley. In the sixth volume of the -_Wellington Supplementary Dispatches_, the proposition is -examined. - -While such was the state of public opinion in Europe, finding -expression daily in high quarters, and of which the above are -only isolated examples, Humboldt undertook his scientific -expedition to Spanish America, and was preparing his great essay -on New Spain. He landed in Mexico in March, 1803, and remained in -the country for one year, engaged in the study of the physical -structure and political condition of the vast realm, and in the -investigation of the causes having the greatest influence on the -progress of its population and native industry. But no printed -work could be found to aid him in his researches with materials, -and therefore he resorted to manuscripts in great numbers, -already in general circulation. He had also free, uninterrupted -access to official records; records which for the first time were -permitted to be examined by a private gentleman. Finally, he -embodied his topographical, geographical, statistical, and other -collections, into a separate work on New Spain, "hoping they -would be received with interest at a time when the new continent, -more than ever, attracts the attention of Europeans." -{331} -The original sketch was drawn up in Spanish for circulation, and -from the comments thereon, he informs us, he "was enabled to make -many important corrections." The _Essay_ reviews the extent -and physical aspect of the country; the influence of the -inequalities of surface on the climate, on agriculture, commerce, -and defence of the coasts; the population, and its divisions into -castes; the census and area of the intendencias--calculated from -the maps drawn up by him from his astronomical observations; its -agriculture and mines, commerce and manufactures; the revenues -and military defences. But Humboldt very candidly confesses, as -incident to such an undertaking, that, "notwithstanding the -extreme care which I have bestowed in verifying results, no doubt -many serious errors have been committed." It can be readily -imagined what attention was given in Europe to the first rude -sketch of statistics published by him in 1804-5, The cupidity and -ambition of merchants, statesmen, and military men were aroused -by this first authentic revelation of Mexican revenues and -resources. All nations were anxious to learn more; all classes of -people listened in wonder to this true account respecting the -prodigious production of the precious metals. In this pleasing -excitement, Humboldt was preparing his complete _Essay_, to -satisfy the public desire. Having learned caution from the -inaccuracies pointed out in his first rough publication, he was -in no great haste to send forth the final result of his labors. -Thus, he waited for four or five years; and, unfortunately for -his own profit, he waited too long. The interest in Mexico had -gone by; the golden visions of its boundless opulence had -vanished; its fascinations, that had charmed for years, like some -castle raised by magic in a night, resplendent with gems of ruby, -amethyst, and jasper, had passed away; the spell of enchantment -was broken. For the rebellion burst out in 1810, and commerce, -revenues, industry, all perished in the general ruin it created. -It was now, in common estimation, one of the poorest colonies of -Spain; and what cared the public for more Spanish poverty beyond -the Atlantic, when too much of it already was visible in the -peninsula? The great _Essay_, therefore, when finally -published, was not purchased with impatient eagerness; it fell -flat on the market. For Mexico was now ruined, the public -thought; and so does the public continue to think, even unto the -present day. Thenceforth, Mexican antiquities only were -attractive. The _Edinburgh Review_, in 1811, writing on the -essay, commences: "Since the appearance of our former article on -this valuable and instructive work, a great and, for the present -at least, lamentable revolution has taken place in the countries -it describes. Colonies which were at that time the abode of peace -and industry have now become the seat of violence and desolation. -A civil war, attended with various success, but everywhere marked -with cruelty and desolation, has divided the colonists, and armed -them for their mutual destruction. Blood has been shed profusely -in the field and unmercifully on the scaffold. Flourishing -countries, that were advancing rapidly in wealth and -civilization, have suffered alike from the assertors of their -liberties and from the enemies of their independence." The -_Quarterly Review_ did not notice the _Essay_, making -no sign of its existence. - -{332} - -It is true, some learned gentlemen gave a look into the work, and -scientific men studied it well. But the learned and scientific -were only a small, select number in the general mass of readers; -and Humboldt had not designed his information for, and waited not -the approbation of, the select alone, but of all classes alike -that could read. Europe closed the map of Mexico when the -revolution broke forth, and shut out all further inquiry into its -political and industrial condition. Then it was that, instead of -a cordial greeting with open arms at every fire side, which -Humboldt reasonably anticipated for his production, the door was -almost rudely slammed in his face. He never forgot that treatment -of the book; he never wrote more upon Mexico; never furnished to -the learned or unlearned a new edition, with emendations and -corrections, notes and new maps. As it went from the hands of the -author then, we receive it now. - -At the moment, however, when Europe closed the map, America for -the first time seriously opened it; and just in proportion with -receding time, as Mexico has faded into insignificance from -European view, in the same proportion with advancing time has -Mexico loomed up into importance with us. They refused to -Humboldt then the high consideration his _Essay_ merited; we -bestow upon him now more respect and veneration than his -_Essay_ deserves. To the European mind, Humboldt's New Spain -was Mexico no more; to the American, Mexico is the same New -Spain--changed, to be sure, but still the land for enterprise and -riches. It was not altogether unknown to us before our -revolution. It had a consideration while the States were English -colonies; for Northern merchants sometimes smuggled into its -ports, and sometimes, too, our fillibusters buccaneered on its -coasts, like other loyal English subjects sailing under "the -brave old English flag." When our revolution came, aid was -invoked from Spain as well as from France; for the Spanish -sovereign had a personal insult to avenge on the British, and -Spanish supremacy on the seas to maintain. But Spain, though -willing, had, first of all, to concentrate her fleets. One armada -was contending with the Portuguese in South America; another was -acting as convoy for the galleons, with cargoes of silver, -proceeding from Mexico to Spain. Treaties with Portugal were -hastily patched up, and "the ordinanza of free trade" liberated -the convoy from protecting the ships laden with the silver. The -policy of that ordinance Humboldt, and many respectable Mexican -writers after him, have much misunderstood; and they are greatly -mistaken in their estimate of its beneficial effects on mining -prosperity. After the United States became an independent nation, -Spain, in order to be rid of the Louisiana incumbrance, which was -dependent upon the revenues of Mexico for support, transferred -that territory to France; and Napoleon, in turn, sold it to the -American government. But did its boundaries extend to the Sabine -or the Rio Grande, on the south? And did they extend to the -Russian Pacific possessions on the north? These were uncertain -questions, and hence from this purchase originated those many -diplomatic complications, and no less numerous domestic -controversies, which have been the fruitful source of change in -cabinets and of defeats of national parties, with the downfall of -not a few distinguished men. Hence, also, the first settlements -in Texas; next the American colonists, and the question of -annexation; the war with Mexico; the treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo, -and the acquisition of California. Before these measures were -decided, however, Colonel Burr had already, with his band of -adventurers, undertaken that mysterious enterprise in the same -direction, whose object seems to have been as vague as the -boundaries to be invaded were uncertain. -{333} -Ouvrard, also, had solicited and effected the co-operation of -leading merchants in Northern cities, in his joint speculation -with the king of Spain, for the vast Mexican commercial scheme. -And herein was given the great impulse to amassing those large -private fortunes, by Mr. Gray of Boston, Mr. Oliver of Baltimore, -Mr. Girard of Philadelphia, and the Parish family. Subsequently -came the Mexican revolution, protracted for twelve years, during -which period the commerce of that country, previously a Spanish -monopoly, was completely under the control of Americans. At the -close of the Napoleon wars Spain desired the monopoly restored, -in order to transfer it to France. This movement called forth, in -favor of free commerce, the celebrated message announcing the -Monroe doctrine. The message gave umbrage to Russia in reference -to her American possessions, and fixed their ultimate destiny. It -also forced England to disclose her claim for the first time, and -to exhibit her title to the Vancouver country south of the -Russian--a title until then unheard of and unknown to American -statesmen. The Missouri Compromise grew out of the acquisition of -Louisiana, and its repeal grew out of the acquisition of -California. As a supplement to the treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo, -was concluded the treaty for the Messilla Valley, which -negotiation sprung from a mistake in Humboldt's maps, faithfully -copied by Disturnell, in giving a wrong location, in longitude -and latitude, to El Paso on the Rio Grande. The invasion of -Mexico by France in 1862, nearly kindled a desolating war between -the United States and the French empire. Unforeseen obstacles, -however, induced Louis Napoleon to pause in the conquest; for he -had, in its inception, been deceived respecting the condition of -Mexico and the Mexican people, and misled as to the easy -development by France of the abundant resources of the country. -The moral support, moreover, extended to the liberal party by the -American government compelled the French to abandon an expedition -which was properly appreciated in all its imposing magnitude by -the emperor, but which so many to this day do not comprehend. - -No one can fail to be astonished in contemplating the large space -occupied by Mexico in American affairs; the immense acquisition -of territory made from within her ancient landmarks; the princely -private fortunes accumulated from her commerce; the vast -treasures discovered in her former mines; the rich agricultural -crops gathered from her Louisiana valley, her Texas loamy soil, -and her California plains; while, upon the margin of the -Mississippi river, a city, created by Mexican aid and -contributions, has grown into an opulent mart of commerce, -surpassing all other American cities in the value of its exports, -in the happy era of our greatest prosperity. Nor can that -prosperity ever return until New Orleans once more becomes the -leading emporium for the outlet of the great staples of this -republic. It is no less surprising to recall the fate of so many -statesmen, and others of mark, who have risen to distinction, or -who have been forced to retire, from questions growing out of -their policy toward Mexico. -{334} -It is no longer disputed that the first fatal error of the first -Napoleon was his invasion of Spain, thereby to control the -Mexican revenues; perhaps it will soon be conceded that the first -fatal error of Louis Napoleon was, in too closely following in -the footsteps, in the same direction, of his illustrious uncle. -Colonel Burr, the Vice-President of the United States, from his -ill-starred adventure, fell into disgrace and sunk into an -infamous notoriety. General Wilkinson, once upon the military -staff of Washington, was both the accomplice and ruin of Burr, -and died in obscurity in a voluntary exile. The Missouri -Compromise destroyed the aspirations of many Northern statesmen -who opposed its adoption, and shattered the popularity of others -who afterward advocated its repeal. The question of annexing -Texas was the fatal rock upon which were wrecked the hopes of -President Van Buren for renomination; it defeated Mr. Clay; it -elected Mr. Polk. In succession to the presidency, were elected -General Taylor and General Pierce, from their distinguished -positions in the war with Mexico. To the like cause, Colonel -Frémont was indebted for his popular nomination, nearly crowned -with success. Winfield Scott was made a Brevet Lieutenant-General -for his meritorious services in the Mexican campaign, and many of -the greatest generals in the recent strife, both Federal and -Confederate, received their first practical lessons in the art of -war on the same distant field. To all of these historical -celebrities, the crude statistics or the elaborate _Essay_ -of Humboldt were well known; for Humboldt's publications were the -only source of authentic information on Mexico of much value. -Other foreign authors, who followed after, copied extensively -from him, and native writers have not failed to quote from the -same source. But although foreign authors have drawn more from -the _Essay_, they have been less circumspect in verifying -the accuracy of its statements; while the Mexican writers, -availing themselves sparingly of extracts, sometimes, at least, -favor the public with interesting corrections. Travellers too -often have given us too much of Humboldt. Indeed, it may be said, -they have fed upon him; they have imbibed him with their pulque, -and taken him solid with their toasted tortilla. His _Essay_ -has been pulled apart leaf by leaf, to be reprinted page after -page in their, for the most part, ephemeral productions. Humboldt -in pieces has been dished up to suit all customers. An oyster -could not be served in more varieties of style. Even foreign -embassies have supplied some of these literary cooks. None of -them seemed to know that man, even in Mexico, must have more than -Humboldt. In a fervid imagination, they thought he could be -improved upon, by reducing the _Essay_ to sublimated -extracts. But Doctor Samuel Johnson hinted, long ago, that -extracts from a work are as silly specimens of its author as was -that by the foolish old Greek, who exhibited a brick from his -house as a specimen of its architecture. Mr. Prescott, on the -contrary, in his celebrated history of the Conquest, with his -usual discriminating judgment, has properly availed himself of -the _Essa_y to afford his readers a vivid and veracious -picture of the natural configuration of the country. And to -understand the country properly, this is the primary lesson to be -attentively studied. But it is much to be regretted that Mr. -Duport, in his standard French work on the production of its -precious metals, was misled by errors existing in the maps -accompanying the _Essay_. In consequence, he has made -serious mistakes in describing its geological structure, in the -run and inclinations of the strata in the silver rock, in the -silver-bearing region. - -{335} - -Whoever desires to comprehend the political condition and the -industrial or commercial resources of Mexico, ought to commence -as Humboldt commenced. It is only through a strict investigation -of its material interests that Mexico can be understood. To begin -with an examination of its political history is to begin where -the labor should end. Mexico, for three hundred years, was a -colony, and, like other colonies, had no history, no policy of -its own; no armies, no navies, no wars; nothing of statesmanship -peculiar to itself; for all were absorbed in the history of the -mother country. When emerging from a colonial chrysalis, it did -not become a nation; it may be somewhat doubted if it has even -yet reached that position. As a republic, its federal government -has been without a policy, its administrations without stability, -its finances without an exchequer; its armies unable to conquer -abroad, or contend with foreign invaders at home; it has no navy; -it is almost destitute of all the essential elements that -constitute a people. True, Mexico has had great vicissitudes of -fortune, with changes, frequent changes, and for the most part -violent overthrows, of the federal rulers. But these convulsions -have produced no serious results. The storms passed over without -indications of wide-spread disaster. Sunshine came again without -any visible improvement; no signs of increasing intelligence, no -symptoms of decay to the superficial observer; for these petty -conflicts originated in personal motives, and so ended. Having no -political object, they are devoid of grave consideration, of any -interest or profit. Their civil wars have been of regular -periodical return, but these wars are of no more historical -significance than the wars of the Saxon Heptarchy. Mexico, for -many reasons, must still be contemplated, while a sovereign -nation, as she was viewed when a viceroyalty of Spain. The -country now appears in Christendom as an enigma full of strange -anomalies. In the erroneous estimation of most men, it is -hastening on to ruin and decay: calamities that came upon the -people in their revolt from Spain, and which will cling to them -until their race is extinct. The royal finger of scorn, too, is -pointed at the republic, as a reproach and warning to all -republican governments of their ultimate failure. It would be -vain to waste time on its political records, to elucidate Mexican -questions. These annals are dumb. But to the mountains, the -mines, the mills, where the rich minerals are produced and -industry is developed, the inquirer must go to find out what -Mexico really is. In observing the people in their private -pursuits, he will imperceptibly be led to comprehend their -political institutions. In daily contact with the distinct -classes, divided into castes, he will in like manner be soon -conversant with the most noted men. Enigmas will vanish upon -nearer approach and on closer inspection; anomalies will no -longer embarrass. Perhaps previously formed opinions may be -shocked, rudely assailed, and demolished. He may see many -lingering remnants of Astec superstition in one caste, where they -often disobey the priest; and much affectation of infidelity in -another, where they kneel as suppliants at the confessional to -crave a blessing. He will perceive marks of seeming decay -everywhere, amid indications of progress. The federal government -will be pronounced not only bad, but bad as government in a -republic can be; yet will he find some consolation in knowing -that the viceregal government was far worse. In the dregs of a -popular polity, some protection for the people will be manifest, -which was denied under a king. -{336} -He will hear Spain, on all sides, spoken of with reverence and -respect; he will soon understand, on all sides, that Spaniards -are detested. He will be gratified with the cordial welcome -bestowed upon Americans; and wonder at the common hatred, in all -classes, to the United States. While he is aware that millions -upon hundreds of millions of dollars, from outlying provinces -torn from the nation, have been yielded to their neighbor on the -north, he will also discover that the heart of the Mexican -territory has not been reached. Nor need he be surprised when the -truth is revealed, that the Liberal executive will sooner forget -the hostile invasion by France, than forgive the moral support -extended to the native cause by that American neighbor. - -On the whole, he may conclude that the Mexicans, after all, are -somewhat rational and sensible, not entirely deficient in -refinement and intelligence, or in energy and industry. But these -opinions can only be formed by pursuing the method of Humboldt, -and bearing his elaborate production in mind. By constant -comparison of his statements with more recent publications from -the Mexican press on the same subjects, not only greater accuracy -in details will be reached, along with later information, but the -advancement in knowledge and wealth will be made apparent. It is -thus a just estimate of Mexico at present with Mexico of the past -can be formed; and while many imperfections in the parts of the -_Essay_ will be detected, no one can fail to admire and -appreciate its general excellence. - --------- - - - One Fold. - - - "And there shall be one fold." - - - Disciple. - - "One Fold! Good Lord, how poor thou art, - To have but one for all! - Methinks the rich with shame will smart - To stand in common stall - With ragged boors and work-grimed men; - And ladies fair, with those who when - They pray have dirty, hands. - Dost think the wise can be devout - When, close beside, an ignorant lout - With mouth wide-gaping stands? - -{337} - - I would thou wert a richer Lord, - And could an hundred folds afford - Where each might find his place. - Look round, good Lord, and thou wilt see - Most men the same have thought with me, - And herd with whom they best agree - In fashion, creed, and race." - - - Master. - - "Good child, thou hast a merry thought! - But folds like mine cannot be bought, - Nor made at fancy's will. - If any find my fold too small - 'Tis they who like no fold at all, - The same who heed no shepherd's call, - Whom wolves will find and kill. - _My_ fold alone is close and warm, - Shielding its inmates from all harm-- - Its pastures rich and sweet. - Hither, with gentle hand, I bring - The peasant and the crownèd king - Together at my feet. - Here no man flings a look of scorn - At him who may be baser born, - For all as brothers meet. - The wise speak kindly to the rude; - The lord would not his slave exclude; - Proud dames their servants greet. - My fold doth equally embrace - The men of every clime and race, - And here in peace they rest. - Here each forgets his rank and state. - And only he is high and great - Who loveth me the best. - The rich, the poor, the bond, the free, - The men of high and low degree, - My fold unites in one with me-- - With me, the Shepherd, called The Good, - Who rules a loving brotherhood. - Therefore, in that my fold is one, - Believe me, it is wisely done." - ------- - -{338} - - Translated From The French Of M. Vitet. - - Science And Faith. - - - Meditations On The Essence Of The Christian Religion, - By M. Guizot. - - -Some time ago political life seemed to be the prominent -occupation in France. M. Guizot was then cautiously defending his -opinions, and was really wearing out his energy and his life in -this work. At that time, we have heard it wished more than once, -not that the struggle should cease, but that death might not -surprise him with his mind occupied solely with these passing -events. He needed, as a last favor and at the end of an ambitious -career, some years of quiet and retreat to meditate upon the -future, and to revive the faith of youth by the lessons of riper -years. He required this for himself, for the interest of his -soul. Nothing then foretold that he would soon be engaged in the -arena of metaphysical and religious controversy. The disputes -about these questions seemed almost lulled to sleep. Not that -doubt and incredulity had surrendered their arms; they followed -their accustomed work, but without noise, without parade, and -without apparent success. This was a truce which had allowed -Christian convictions to become reanimated, to increase, and to -gain ground. The proof of this was seen in those gloomy days, -when the waves of popular opinion, which threatened to destroy, -bent, completely subdued and submissive and with an unlooked-for -respect, before sacred truths and the ministers of religion. This -was the natural result of that bitter struggle which had lasted -for fifteen years. The aggressors could not undertake two sieges -at one time, and so political power became the target against -which all their efforts were directed. - -It is not the same now. Power is protected by an armor which has -disheartened its adversaries; and the more surely it is guarded, -the more exposed and compromised are other questions, which equal -or even exceed it in importance. The spirit of audacity and -aggression compensates itself for the forced forbearance from -politics, imposed upon it by the political power. It sees that in -religious matters the ground is not so well protected; it feels -more at ease there and not nearly so hard pushed. From this fact -there arises a series of bold attacks of a new order, which -scandalize the believing, and astonish the most indifferent, when -they think for a moment of the preceding calm. It is no longer -men or ministers, it is not a form of government, it is God -himself whom they attack? We do not ask that the government -should place the least restriction on the rights of free thought, -even should it be to the advantage of the truths that we venerate -the most. We desire to state the fact, and nothing more. It may -be that these attacks are not important enough to cause as much -anxiety as they have done. -{339} -They are passionate, numerous, and skilfully arranged; but they -cannot shake the edifice, and will serve rather to strengthen it, -by summoning to its aid defenders who are more enlightened, and -protectors who are more vigilant. Still, they are a great source -of trouble. The restlessness, the distress, and the vague fears -that the agitation of political affairs seemed alone capable of -producing, now arise in the heart of the domestic circle and in -the depths of the individual soul from these new discussions. It -is not personal interests that are now risked, but souls that are -in danger; and if the crisis is apparently less violent and -intense, it is really graver and more menacing, and no one can -remain neutral in the struggle. - -And so M. Guizot wishes to take a part, and has entered the fray. -He is of the number who, at certain times and upon certain -subjects, do not know how to be silent. In politics he held back -and he forbore. He saw the events, but he did not say what he -thought of them. His debt in politics is now amply paid; all the -more since he owed it to himself, as well as to his cause, to -reestablish the real sense, the true physiognomy of the things he -did. He had to explain clearly his views, his intentions, his -acts; to interpret them and to comment upon them, we can almost -say, to finish them during his own life; to give the true key to -his future historians; in a word, to write his own -_memoirs_. This was his duty, and he has acted rightly in -not delaying it. It was not less for other ends, and in the -design of a greater work, that he wished for twenty years' -solitude and repose at the end of his life. His desire was heard. -The days of calm and retreat have come, not, perhaps, at the time -that he desired, and still less under conditions that he would -have chosen, but for his glory they are such that he can well -think them fruitful, worthy, valuable, full of vigor and of -ardor. Happy autumn! when the recollections of the world and the -echoes of political strife are only the recreation of a soul -incessantly engaged with more serious problems. It is in these -heights, in these serene regions, while he is questioning himself -on his destiny and on his faith, that war has come to seek him; -not the personal war of former times, but another kind of war, -less direct and more general, yet perhaps more provoking. He is -not the man to refuse the contest. Under the weight of years that -he bears so well, stronger, more resolute, younger than ever, he -has entered the arena; he will be militant until the end. - -What will he do? What is his plan? What position will he take? -The volume which is before us is an answer to these questions. It -is only a first volume; but it is complete in itself, it is a -work that one cannot study too closely, nor diffuse too widely. -The developments, the additions, and the supplements which the -three remaining volumes will soon add to the work, will, without -doubt, make it still more comprehensive and solid; but as it is -now, we consider it, without any commentary whatsoever, to be a -most effective reply to the attacks which have recently been -levelled against Christian doctrines, or, to speak more -correctly, against the essence of all religion. - -Before entering into the work, let us say something of the manner -in which it is written. We are not going to speak of the author's -style. We would announce nothing new to the world by saying that -M. Guizot, when he has time and really tries, can write as well -as he speaks. -{340} -His pen for many years has followed a law of progress and of -increasing excellence. He has shown in these _Meditations_ a -new skill, perhaps higher than in his _Memoirs_ even, in the -art of clothing his ideas in excellent language; learnedly put -together, yet without effort or stiffness, true in its coloring, -sober in its effects, always clear and never trivial, always firm -and often forcible. Something more novel and more characteristic -appears in this book. It is in reality a controversial work, but -a controversy which is absolutely new. It is more than courteous, -it is an _impersonal_ polemic. The author has, certainly, -always shown himself respectful to his opponents; he has ever -admitted that they could hold different opinions from his in good -faith; and even at the rostrum, in the heat of contests, his -adversaries were not persons, they were ideas; but the people he -disputed with were always, without scruple, called by their -names. Here it is different; there is not a single proper name, -the war is anonymous. In changing the atmosphere--in passing, if -we can be allowed the expression, from earth to heaven, or, at -least, from the bar to the pulpit, from politics to the gospel, -he changes his method and takes a long step in advance. He -endeavors to leave persons entirely out of consideration, for -they only embarrass and embitter the questions. He forgets, or at -least he does not tell us, who his adversaries are; he refutes -them, but he does not name them. - -Is not this discretion at once, good manners and good taste? It -is also something more. Without doubt, by speaking only of ideas -and not of those who maintain them, one loses a great means of -effective action. In abstract matters, proper names referred to -here and there are a very powerful resource--they arouse and -excite attention, they give interest and life to the argument; -but what is gained on one hand is frequently lost on another. The -use of proper names, though it may have nothing to provoke -irritation, still always incurs the danger of causing the debate -to degenerate into a personal dispute. The questions are reduced -to the capacity of those who sustain them. Better take a plainer -and more decided path, and keep persons completely out of view. -M. Guizot has done well. In no part of his book is there reason -to regret the vivacity and attraction of a more direct polemic; -whilst the urbanity and the omission of names, without really -changing or diminishing the questions, spread a calm gravity -throughout the work, almost a perfume of tolerance, which gains -the reader's confidence and disposes him to allow himself to be -convinced. It is true that this kind of polemics can only be -maintained when greatness of thought compensates for the lack of -passion. It is necessary to take wing, mount above questions, -conquer all and enlighten all. Such is the character of these -_Meditations_. The comprehensiveness of his views, the -greatness of his plan, and the clearness of his style, alike -impress upon it the seal of true originality. - -It is not a theology that M. Guizot has undertaken; he has not -written for doctors; he discusses neither texts nor points of -doctrine; he does not attempt to solve scholastic difficulties; -still less does he wish to mingle in the discussion of incidental -events, to descend to the questions of to-day, and to follow, -step by step, the crisis which agitates the Christian world at -this time. He has grappled with more weighty and more permanent -questions. -{341} -He wishes to show clearly the truth of Christianity in its -essence, in its fundamental dogmas, or rather in its simplicity -and innate greatness, without commentary, interpretation, or -human work of any kind, and consequently before all disunion, -schism, or heresy. He has tried to expose the pure idea of -Christianity, so that he can be more able to demonstrate its -divine character. - -Such is his intention. What has he done to attain it? The book -itself must answer this question. But in these few pages how can -we speak of it? How can we analyze a work when one is tempted to -quote every paragraph? And on the other hand to give many -extracts from a book, is only to mutilate it and give an -incorrect idea of its real value. Let us only try, then, to say -enough to inspire our readers with the more profitable desire of -studying M. Guizot himself. - - - I. - -The beginning and the foundation of these _Meditations_ is a -well-known truth, which the author establishes with absolute -certainty, and which at this time it is useful to keep in mind. -This truth is, that the human race, since its first existence and -in every place where it has existed, has been engaged in trying -to solve certain questions which are, so to speak, personal to -it. These are questions, of destiny, of life rather than science, -questions it has invincibly tried to determine. For example, Why -is man in this world, and why the world itself? Why does it -exist? Whence do they come, and where do they both tend? Who has -made them? Have they an intelligent and free Creator? or are they -merely a product of blind elements? If they are created, if we -have a Father, why, in giving us life, has he made it so bitter -and painful? Why is there sin? Why suffering and death? Is not -the hope of a better life only the illusion of the unhappy; and -prayer, that cry of the soul in anguish, is it only a sterile -noise, a word thrown to the mocking wind? - -These questions, together with others which develop and complete -them, have excited the deepest interest of the human race since -it first existed upon the earth, and it alone is interested in -them. They speak only to it; among all living creatures, it alone -can comprehend and is affected by them. This painful yet grand -privilege is the indisputable evidence of its terrestrial -royalty; it is at once its glory and its torment. - -This series of questions, or rather mysteries, M. Guizot places -at the beginning of his _Meditations_, under the title of -_Natural Problems_. Man, indeed, possesses them by his very -nature; he does not create or invent them, he merely submits to -them. We do not mean by this that for humanity in general these -problems are not obscure and confused, without a distinct form or -outline, surrounded with uncertainties and frequently rather seen -than clearly apprehended. This must be true of the great mass of -mankind, who live from hand to mouth, who go and come and work, -absorbed in petty pleasures or occupied with dreary toil. Still -we think that there is not a single one, even among these -apparently dull and heedless men, in whatever way he may have -lived and whatever hardships he has had to sustain, who has not -at least once in his life caught a glimpse of these formidable -questions and felt an ardent wish to see them solved. Make as -many distinctions as you please between races, sexes, ages, and -degrees of civilization; divide the globe and its inhabitants by -zones or climates; you will no doubt discover more than one -difference in the way in which these problems are presented to -the soul; you will find them more or less prominent, and more or -less attention paid to them; but you will find a trace of them -everywhere and among all people. It is a law of instinct, a -general law for all times and places. - -{342} - -If such is our lot, if these questions necessarily weigh upon -minds, these questions which are "the burden of the soul," as M. -Guizot calls them, are we not really compelled to try to solve -them? It is on our part neither vain curiosity, nor capricious -desire, nor frivolous habit which leads us to attempt it. It is a -necessity, quite as serious and as natural to us as the problems -are themselves; a need we feel in some way to have lifted from us -the weight which oppresses. We must have a reply at any cost; who -can give it to us? - -Faith or Reason? Religion or Philosophy? At every moment we see -in what a very limited manner reason, science, and all purely -human resources suffice to satisfy us. It can be said that, from -the very infancy of human society up to the present day, it has -been from the various religions, thought to be divine and -accepted as such by faith, that humanity has asked these -indispensable responses. - -We readily see from this, what a deep interest is attached to -these natural problems. Who will presume to tell us that religion -proceeds from an artificial and temporary want, which men have -gradually overcome, if the problems to which it answers are -inherent in the race and can only perish with it? It is the -constant work and watchword of every materialistic and -pantheistic system to distort the character of these problems and -make them simply accidental and individual, the result of -temperament or of circumstances. Farther than this, they had not -yet gone. They did not dare to deny, in the face of universal -testimony, the continued existence of the problems themselves. -They disguised their significance, they did not aspire to destroy -them. Now they take another step. In order to get the advantage -in answering, they begin by suppressing the questions. This is -the characteristic feature, the first step of a system which -makes a great deal of noise in the world to-day, although it only -claims to reproduce efforts which have been already more than -once defeated. It has, however, this kind of novelty, this -advantage over its associates which, like it, have issued from -pantheism, that it is not vague. It sets forth its opinions -clearly and without equivocation, and by this fact this school of -philosophy has gained the title by which it is commonly known. We -need hardly say that it is to _Positivism_ that we are -alluding. This promises with the greatest seriousness, if we will -only lend it our attention, to free humanity from these untoward -problems which now torment it. - -Its remedy is extremely simple: it simply says to the human race, -Why do you seek to know whence you have come and what is your -destiny? You will never find out a word of this. Do then your -real duty. Leave these vain fancies. Live, become learned, study -the _evolution_ of things, that is to say, secondary causes -and their relations; on this subject science has wonders to -reveal to you; but final causes and first causes, our origin and -our destiny, the beginning and the end of the world, these are -all pure reveries, words completely without meaning! The -perfection of man as well as of society consists in taking no -notice of these things. The mind becomes more enlightened, the -more it leaves in obscurity your pretended natural problems. -{343} -These problems are really a disease, and the way to cure it is, -not to think of them at all. - -Not to think of them! Ingenuous proposition! Wonderful ignorance -of the eternal laws of human nature! "Our age," say they, -"inclines to these ideas: but let us not be disturbed by this." -Men will not be persuaded by speaking to them in such a clear -way, any more than Don Juan could overcome Sganarelle by his -discourses on "two and two are four." Positivism not only -attempts the impossible, but it frankly acknowledges it. Let us -suppose for a moment that by some miracle it should triumph; that -man, in order to please this system, should cease to pay any -attention to the problems which beset him, should renounce the -idea of fathoming these questions, and should despise every -attempt at a religious or even a metaphysical solution, every -inspiration toward the Infinite. How long does any one believe -this would continue? We do not think that the human mind would -consent to be thus mutilated and imprisoned for two days in -succession. Were this system far more fascinating, the human soul -would still rise above the limit to which Positivism would -confine it, and would say with a great poet: - - "Je ne puis, l'infini malgré moi me tourmente." - -And so we see, whatever may happen, Positivism is not destined to -give us the solution of these natural problems. After, as before, -its appearance, the mystery of our destiny claims the attention -of the human race. - -M. Guizot describes another attempt, of an entirely different -character. It is apparently less bold, for its aim is not to -suppress inquiry, but merely to elude any definite solution of -these natural problems. It cannot be properly called a system; it -is rather a state of the individual soul, which not unfrequently -is found among cultivated minds; it is a tendency to substitute -what is called religious sentiment for religion itself. They do -not deny the great mysteries of life, but consider them as being -very serious and extremely embarrassing. But in the place of -precise solutions and categorical replies, which could be -required of a system maintaining fixed and clearly defined -dogmas, they content themselves with frequent reveries and long -contemplations. "This is," say they, "the religion of enlightened -intellects; we care for no solutions, for they only serve to -agitate and annoy." It offers a complete contrast to Positivism. -That recommends us, as a sort of moral hygiene, never to think of -invisible things; but these "enlightened minds" would have us -reflect much, if not continually, upon them, but always with the -proviso that we must come to no conclusion. - -The human race will not be satisfied with these modes of -interpreting its destiny. It requires something more than the -blind negations of the one, or the vague aspirations of the -other. Man is not merely an intellectual or an emotional being; -he is both united. He requires real answers, and not beautiful -dreams; he requires true replies, which satisfy his intellect as -well as his heart, which point out the way he must take, which -sustain his courage, which animate his hope and excite his love. -The ideal that he seeks is a system of facts, of precepts, and of -dogmas, which will correspond to the wants that he finds within -himself. Let us search for it, for it is the great question for -us all. As we have already said, there are two sources from which -we may hope to learn the truth, one entirely human, the other -half divine. Does the first suffice? Let us see. - -{344} - - II. - -If science can reply to the appeals of our souls, if by its own -power and light it can reveal to us the end of this life, can -make us see clearly the beginning and the end, so much the -better; we will cling to science without asking for anything -more. We have this exact and sure guide completely within our -control; why should we seek adventitious aid and inexplicable -revelations? It is true that everybody cannot be learned, but -everybody believes in science. However scanty her proof may be, -the most rebellious yield as soon as she has pronounced her -decision. There is no schism or heresy with her. If sometimes the -_savans_ quarrel, which they can do perhaps even better than -other men, they are not long in finding a peacemaker: they take a -retort, a microscope, or a pair of scales; they weigh, compare, -measure, and analyze, and the process is terminated: until new -facts are ascertained, the decree is sovereign. What an admirable -perspective opens before humanity if these hidden questions, -which now puzzle and confuse, will in the future be cleared up -and accurately determined by the aid of science. Time and the law -of progress give us an easy way of putting an end to our -perplexities. The fruit of divine knowledge, the old forbidden -fruit, we can now pluck without fear, and we can satiate -ourselves without danger of a fall! - -Unfortunately, all this is only a dream. In the first place, the -authority of science is not always admitted. It has more or less -weight, according to the subject it may treat. In the -investigations of natural things, in physics, and in mathematics, -its decisions are law. But when it leaves the visible world, when -it turns to the soul, interminable controversies arise. Its right -to be called science is then disputed; for it appears to be only -conjectural, and half the time its principal efforts consist in -trying to demonstrate that it has the right to be believed. This -is exactly the kind of science with which we have to do. The -questions which disturb man are not the problems of algebra or -chemistry; they are the secrets of the invisible world. We cannot -expect unanswerable solutions of these doubts, for science, in -the field of metaphysics, has none such to give us. - -Can science gratify its fancy in these investigations with -perfect liberty and without limit? No, an impassable barrier -opposes and imprisons it in the invisible universe, as well as in -the breast of physical and material nature. All science, whatever -it may be, has its determined limit in the extent of finite -things. Within this limit, everything is in its power; beyond it, -everything escapes it. Could it possibly be otherwise? It is the -product of our mind, which is finite; how then could human -science be anything but the explication of the finite? Induction, -it is true, transports us to the extreme frontier of this -material world, to the door of the infinite, and the results of -induction are with reason called scientific; yet what does this -wonderful faculty, this great light of science, really do? -Nothing else than to put us face to face with the unknown -mysteries which are completely closed to us. It shows them in -perspective, it makes us see enough to persuade us that they -really do exist, but not enough to make known any truth -precisely, exactly, practically, or experimentally--in a word, -scientifically. The invisible finite, that is to say; the human -soul, the dwelling of the human _Ego_, science is capable of -explaining; the invisible infinite, the supreme, creative spirit, -escapes it completely. - -{345} - -But this is exactly what must be penetrated and thoroughly known, -if we expect to resolve the great problems which concern our -destiny in a scientific manner. It is then impossible, it is more -than an illusion--it is folly to hope for a solution of these -questions from human science. - -Is this equivalent to saying that philosophy is powerless to -speak to us about natural problems? that it has nothing to say to -us about our duties, our hopes, our destiny? No, certainly not. -It is qualified, it has the right to treat of these questions; to -_treat_ concerning them, not to resolve them. The most -daring effort of spiritual philosophy can never span the abyss; -it can only make the borders more distinct. Noble task, after -all! A sound philosophy, which abstains from useless hypotheses, -which gives us that which it can give, namely, the clear proof -that an invisible order does exist, that realities are behind -these mysterious problems, that they justly disturb us, that we -are right in wishing to solve them; all this, certainly, is not -worthless knowledge nor a trifling success for the human race. As -soon as this philosophy flourishes in a place, if it be only -among a small number of generous spirits, the perfume is spread -abroad, and, little by little, one after another, the whole -people feel its influence, and society is reanimated, elevated, -and purified. And religion, we do not fear to say it frankly, is -badly advised and wants prudence, no less than justice, when, in -the place of accepting the aid of this system and welcoming it as -a natural auxiliary, seeing in it a kind of vanguard, which is to -prepare minds and overcome prejudices, she keeps it at a distance -almost with jealousy, combats it, provokes it, places it between -two fires, and loads it with the same blame and bitter reproaches -as the blindest errors and the most perverse doctrines receive. -If these unfortunate attacks had not been made, perhaps we should -not see certain reprisals, an excess of confidence, and a -forgetfulness of its proper limits that its friends do not now -always avoid; for if it is true that we should be just toward it, -it is no less true that it should be held in check. M. Guizot, as -a real friend, has frankly rendered it this service. Perhaps no -one before him has traced with so sure a hand the limits of -philosophical science. He claims for it the sincerest respect, -and ably sustains its legitimate authority, but clearly points -out the limit that must not be passed. - -More than one, its adherents will complain: "You discourage us. -If you wish us to maintain the invisible truths against so many -adversaries, do not deprive us of our weapons; do not tell us in -advance how far we may go; let us trust that some day this gate -of the infinite, at which we have struggled for so many -centuries, will at last be opened." - -We could answer: "If you had only made some progress during these -centuries, we could hope for more in the future. We would not -have the right to say, 'So far shall you go, but no farther.' But -where are the advances of metaphysics? Who has seen them? -Possibly there has been a progress in appearance, that there is -now more clearness and more method. In this sense, the great -minds of modern times have added something to the legacy of the -philosophers of ancient history; but the inheritance has ever -remained the same. Who will presume to boast that he knows more -of the infinite than did Socrates, Aristotle, and Plato? The -natural sciences seem destined to increase. -{346} -Feeble at first, they gradually go from victory to victory, until -they have created an empire, which is constantly increasing and -always more indisputable. Metaphysical science, on the contrary, -is great at its birth, but soon becomes stationary; it is -evidently unable ever to reach the end it is ever seeking. If -anything is needed to prove this immobility of metaphysics, it -will be done by referring to the constant reappearance of four or -five great systems, which in a measure contain all the thousand -systems that the human mind has ever, or will ever invent. From -the very beginning of philosophy, you see them; at every great -epoch, they are born again; always the same under apparent -diversities, always incomplete and partial, half true and half -false. What do these repeated returns to the same attempts, -ending in the same result, teach us, unless the eternal inability -to make a single advance? Evidently man has received from above, -once for all and from the earliest times, the little that he -knows of metaphysics; and human work, human science, can add -nothing to it." - -If, then, you rely on science to pierce the mystery of these -natural problems, your hope is in vain. You see what they can -attain--nothing but vague notions, fortified, it is true, by the -firm conviction that these problems are not illusory, that they -rest upon a solid foundation, on serious realities. - -Is this enough? Does this kind of satisfaction suffice for your -soul? What does it signify if a few minds, moulded by philosophy, -comprehending everything in a superficial manner, remain in these -preliminaries, contented with this half-light, and need no other -help to go through life, even in times of the most severe trial? -We are willing to grant what they affirm of themselves, but what -can be concluded from this? How many minds of this character can -be found? It is the rarest exception. The immense majority of -men, the human race, could not live under such a system; it is -too great a stranger to the philosophical spirit; it has too -limited a perception of the invisible. All abstraction is Hebrew -for it. And even supposing that the vague responses that come -from science were to be presented in a more accessible form; -still the essential facts would be for most men without value or -efficacy, and a most inadequate help. - -What is the human race going to do if, on one side, it cannot do -without precise responses and dogmatic notions concerning the -invisible infinite, and if, on the other, science is the only -means of attaining this end? If it aspires to learn truths which -transcend experience, and yet takes experience for its only -guide? If, in short, it will only admit and accept the facts that -it observes, confirms, and verifies itself? How shall we escape -from this inextricable difficulty? - - - To Be Continued. - ------------ - -{347} - - Cowper, Keble, Wordsworth; Or, "Quietist" - Poetry, And Its Influence On Society. - - -The Spanish priest, Michael Molinos, who spent the last eleven -years of his life in the prisons of the Inquisition, was destined -to exert considerable influence over many of the most thoughtful -and gifted spirits of his age. It was in 1675, and in the heart -of Rome, that he published a _Spiritual Guide_, in which he -pointed out various methods calculated to raise the soul to a -state of contemplation and quietude, in which she makes no use of -her faculties, is unconcerned about all that may happen, and even -about the practice of good works and her own salvation; reposing -on the love of God, and, through his presence, safe, -all-sufficient, and entirely blest. It can be easily imagined how -acceptable the unction of ascetic eloquence might render such -doctrine to minds mystically disposed. Multitudes in every age -are ready to run after any quack of human happiness who is -ingenious enough to hide his fallacies under a show of reason; -and Molinos had this advantage over many charlatans, that before -deceiving others he had completely deceived himself. He was -honest, therefore, and certainly a great advance on the Quietists -of the 14th century, called in Greek Hesuchasts, who in their -monastery on Mount Athos passed whole days in a state of -immobility, "contemplating," as their historians say, "their nose -or their navel, and by force of this contemplation finding divine -light." Molinos found many partisans in Italy and in France, -where his system was fervently embraced by the celebrated poetess -and mystic, Madame Guyon, who conceived herself called from above -to quit her home and travel, inculcating everywhere the gospel of -quietism. Fenelon, whose sweetness and goodness flung a charm -around every opinion he expressed, adopted in part the theories -of Molinos, and Madame de Maintenon herself is numbered among -Madame Guyon's converts to the Spaniard's novel and dreamy creed. - -The inmates of Port-Royal, and the Jansenists in general, had, as -may be conjectured from the example of Fenelon, strong affinities -for quietism; and the sympathy entertained for their sufferings -by English Calvinists in the last century, sufficiently accounts -for the poet Cowper becoming an admirer of Madame Guyon's -writings, and imitating in the _Olney Hymns_ many of her -fervent compositions. - -Without falling into the errors of the Quietists, Cowper imbibed -much of their spirit, and transfused it into his verses very -happily. His poetry is essentially of a quietist description, -provided the term be understood in a favorable sense. His mind -was naturally tranquil, and even during the melancholy of his -later days, his mental aberration partook of the original -placidity of his character. His rhythm is musical, his language -choice, and the flow of his thoughts calm and tranquillizing. He -discards stormy and passionate themes from instinct rather than -resolve. He delighted in such subjects as "Truth," "Hope," -"Charity," "Retirement," "Mutual Forbearance," and - - "Domestic happiness, the only bliss - Of Paradise that has survived the Fall." - -{348} - -And he has clustered around them all the graces of poetry and -charms of Christian philosophy. In that work in which his powers -are exhibited to most advantage and at greatest length--_The -Task_--he has touched on every topic that is most soothing, -and in verses, many of which have become proverbs, has expressed, -with unrivalled precision and ease, thoughts and feelings common -to every Christian who is - - "Happy to rove among poetic flowers, - Though poor in skill to rear them." - -He is never obscure, his emotions are never fictitious, his humor -is never forced, nor his satire pointless. Hence he became -popular in his generation, and has lost no particle of the credit -he once obtained. Brighter stars than he have in the present -century come forth and dazzled the eyes of beholders, by the -intensity of their radiance and the boldness of their career; but -they have not thrown the gentle Cowper into the shade. He still -shines above the horizon, "a star among the stars of mortal -night," of heavenly lustre, unobtrusive, steadfast, and serene. -He still exerts a wholesome influence on society, still refreshes -us in the pauses of the battle of life, still refines the taste, -fills the ear with melody, elevates the soul, and fosters in many -those habits of reflection from which alone greatness and -goodness spring. The "Lines on the receipt of his Mother's -Picture" have rarely been surpassed in pathos. There never was a -poet more sententious or a moralist more truly poetic. "He was," -says one of his biographers, "an enthusiastic lover of nature, -and some of his descriptions of natural objects are such as -Wordsworth himself might be proud to own." His poems, observes -Hazlitt, contain "a number of pictures of domestic comfort and -social refinement which can hardly be forgotten but with the -language itself." Of all his encomiasts, none has spoken of him -with more fervor than Elizabeth Barrett, afterward Mrs. Browning, -and the following stanzas from her beautiful poem called -"Cowper's Grave" deserve to be quoted in connection with the -present subject: - - "O poets, from a maniac's tongue - Was pour'd the deathless singing! - O Christians, to your cross of hope - A hopeless hand was clinging! - O men, this man in brotherhood - Your weary paths beguiling, - Groan'd inly _while he taught you peace_, - And died while ye were smiling." - -But has Cowper had no successor in the peculiar path he so -successfully trod? Was Wordsworth not in one sense a Quietist? -Were the subjects he selected not as passionless as those of his -master, and treated with equal thoughtfulness and calm? No doubt. -Yet there was an important difference between them. The quietude -which Cowper inculcated was to spring from religion; while that -which Wordsworth promoted had its sources principally in -contemplation of the beauties of Nature, and in obedience to her -powerful influences. Each of these gifted minds has benefitted -society, but in different ways; and it is well that, in a -poetry-loving age, there should be some counter-balance to the -morbid excitement and passionate intensity which the school of -Byron, Moore, and Shelley rendered so popular. It is well that -minor and gentler streams should irrigate the ground which has -been desolated by their torrents of impetuous verse. It is well -that divine no less than human love should have its -laurel-crowned minstrels, and that principle and conscience -should be proved no less poetical than passion and crime. - -{349} - -It is undoubtedly difficult for one who foregoes the passions to -rise to a very high eminence as a poet, since the violent -emotions of our nature are well adapted to verse, and full of -dramatic effect. The bard of Rydal-Mount has, nevertheless, -attained a lasting celebrity, after patiently enduring -years--long years--of neglect and ridicule. He has carefully -eschewed those stormy and harrowing subjects with which poets of -the highest genius had, before his time, generally delighted to -familiarize our minds. He leaves such themes as Prometheus bound -by Jupiter to a rock, with a vulture preying perpetually on his -entrails, [Footnote 58] Count Ugolino devouring the flesh of his -own offspring in the Tower of Famine, [Footnote 59] and Satan -summoning his fallen peers to council in the fiery halls of -Pandemonium, [Footnote 60] to such masters as "AEschylus the -Thunderous," Dante, and Milton, and addresses himself to the -softer and more homely feelings, and to the calmer reason of men. -He is firmly persuaded that a truer and deeper source of poetic -inspiration is to be found in the every-day sights and sounds of -Nature; that the changing clouds and falling waters, the -forest-glades, wet with noon-tide dew, the rocky beach, musical -with foaming waves, the sheep-walks on the barren hill-side, and -the "primrose by the river's brim," supply the imagination with -its best aliment, and effectually tend to calm, elevate, and -hallow the mind. This is his great, his constant theme. His -longer and more philosophical poems ring ever-varying changes on -it, and may be called an Epithalamium on the espousals of Man and -Nature. But for his devoting a long life to the poetic -development of this fundamental idea, we should never have seen -our literature enriched by the productions of Shelley and -Tennyson's genius. In poetry, as in all that concerns the human -mind, there is a law of progress. The poetic harvest-home of one -generation is the seed-time of that which is to follow. Thus -Dante speaks of two poets (Guinicelli and Daniello) now -forgotten, or known only by name, in terms of strong admiration, -as predecessors to whose writings he was considerably indebted. -[Footnote 61] The following lines are but a sample of a thousand -passages in Wordsworth which set forth the agency of natural -scenery in the work of man's education and refinement. It is -taken from the _Prelude_, a long introduction to the -_Excursion_, which lay upon the author's shelves in -manuscript during forty-five years: [Footnote 62] - - "Was it for this, - That one, the fairest of all rivers, loved - _To blend his murmurs with my nurse's song_, - And from his alder-shades and rocky falls, - And, from his fords and shallows, sent _a voice_ - _That flowed along my dreams?_ For this didst thou, - O Derwent! winding among grassy holms - Where I was looking on, a babe in arms. - _Make ceaseless music, that composed my thoughts_ - _To more than infant softness_, giving me, - Amid the fretful dwellings of mankind, - A foretaste, a dim earnest of _the calm_ - _That Nature breathes among the hills and groves?_" - - [Footnote 58: _Prometheus Vinctus_.] - - [Footnote 59: _L' Inferno_, c. xxxiii.] - - [Footnote 60: _Paradise Lost_, Book i.] - - [Footnote 61: _Il Purgatorio_, xi. 97; xxvi. 115, 142, - 92, 97.] - - [Footnote 62: 1805 to 1850.] - -Wordsworth's life was an exemplification of the doctrine he -taught. Cheerfulness and peace marked his character at each stage -of his eighty years' pilgrimage, and, towards the close of his -career, he had the satisfaction of perceiving that his works were -slowly effecting the result to which he had destined them--making -a lasting impression on the literature of his age, and leading -many a thoughtful spirit from artificial to natural enjoyments, -from the imagery of dreamland to that of daily life, from bombast -to simplicity, from passion to feeling, and from turmoil to -repose. - - "O heavenly poet! such thy verse appears, - So sweet, so charming to my ravished ears, - As to the weary swain, with cares opprest. - Beneath the silvan shade, _refreshing rest_; - As to the fev'rish traveller, when first - He finds a crystal stream to quench his thirst." [Footnote 63] - - [Footnote 63: Dryden's _Virgil_, Pastoral v.] - -{350} - -Nor was Wordsworth's love of nature and her soothing influences -dissociated from religious belief. He was no materialist, -maintaining the eternal existence and self-government of the -universe by fixed and exclusively natural laws. He was no -pantheist, worshipping nature as an indivisible portion of the -divine essence--a body of which God is actually the soul. He -believed in other laws besides those which regulate the movements -of the celestial bodies, and the gradual formation and -destruction of the strata that compose the surface of our globe. -The view which he took of the material universe was such as -became a Christian, and is luminously expressed by him in the -following lines: - - "I have seen - A curious child applying to his ear - The convolutions of a smooth-lipped shell. - To which, in silence hushed, his very soul - Listened intensely, and his countenance soon - Brightened with joy; for murmurings from within - Were heard--sonorous cadences! whereby, - To his belief, the monitor expressed - Mysterious union with its native sea. - E'en such a shell the universe itself - Is to the ear of faith, and doth impart - Authentic tidings of invisible things. - Of ebb and flow, and ever-during power, - And _central peace subsisting at the heart - Of endless agitation_." - -It is impossible to read the _Prelude_ and the -_Excursion_ without perceiving that Wordsworth's passion for -natural scenery was no fictitious emotion, assumed for the -purpose of appearing brimful of philosophy and sentiment, and -making an effective parade of moon and stars, flowers and -rivulets, in verse. No, it was a deep and abiding principle--a -feeling of which he could no more have divested himself than -Newton of his bent toward science, or Beethoven of his ear for -music. This unaffected enthusiasm enabled him to speak with the -authority of a master, and to instil into the minds of disciples -the ideas that had taken so strongly possession of his own. - -From the poetry of inanimate nature, the transition was easy to -that of simple feelings, particularly in rustic life. In the -innocent plays of children of the cot, and the sparkling dews on -the cheeks of wild mountain maids, Wordsworth found themes for -reflection deep enough to sink into the memory of men. Who has -not felt the inimitable simplicity of the verses in which the -child, who often, after sunset, took her little porringer, and -ate her supper beside her brother's grave, persisted in saying: -"Oh! no, sir, _we are seven_," and in ignoring the power of -death to sever or to annihilate? Purity marks all which this -chief of the Lake School has composed; for how could he soothe -the spirit if, like Moore and Byron, he pandered to vicious -inclinations? Hence his successor as Poet-Laureate congratulates -himself very properly on wearing - - "The laurel greener from the brows - Of him that uttered nothing base." - -A poet's best eulogy is that which comes from a poet. Having -quoted that of Tennyson, therefore, I shall add that which -Shelley also bestows on Wordsworth: - - "Thou wert as _a lone star_, whose light did shine - On some frail bark in winter's midnight roar: - Thou hast like to a _rock-built refuge_ stood - Above the blind and battling multitude - In honored poverty thy voice did weave - Songs consecrate to truth and liberty." - -The quietude commended by infidel poets is, at the best, that of -despair. It is rest without repose, pathetic but not peaceful--a -spurious and delusive calm, difficult to attain for a moment, and -certain not to endure. - - "Yet now despair itself is mild. - Even as the winds and waters are; - I could lie down like a tired child. - And weep away the life of care - Which I have borne and yet must bear." [Footnote 64] - - [Footnote 64: P. B. Shelley.] - -{351} - -Such is their language; so writes one of the most distinguished -of these "apostles of affliction." How different are the feelings -of the Christian "quietist:" - - "Nor let the proud heart say. - In her self-torturing hour, - The travail pangs must have their way. - The aching brow must lower. - To us long since the glorious Child is born, - Our throes should be forgot, or only seem - Like a sad vision told for joy at morn, - For joy that we have waked, and found it but a dream." [Footnote 65] - - [Footnote 65: Keble. _The Christian Year_. Third Sunday - after Easter.] - -Nor is this strain unreal. The writer's life was the best -guarantee for the sincerity of his sentiments, and the response -he has wakened in myriads of hearts is a seal set on the depth of -his convictions. He hymned not the happiness of the Christian, -because the theme suited an ambitious lyre in that it is lofty, -or an ordinary one in that it is familiar, but because he was -persuaded that the poet's highest glory consists in calming the -agitated spirit, as David did when he played cunningly on the -harp in the presence of Saul; and that, while it is incumbent on -us to make others happy, our paramount duty is to be happy -ourselves; that if we are not so, the fault is our own; and that -there are in the religion we profess, in every crisis and -condition, ample provisions for that happiness to which all -aspire. - - "O awful touch of God made man! - We have no lack if thou art there: - From thee our infant joys began, - By thee our wearier age we bear." [Footnote 66] - - [Footnote 66: Keble. _Lyra Innocentium_.] - -This is the key-note of his thoughtful rhymes. - -Keble's reputation as a poet was established long before the -leading periodicals of the land called attention to the beauty of -his compositions. - -Their publication in the first instance is said to have been -owing to his seeing several of them in print without being able -to conjecture by what means they had found their way to public -light. He soon learned, however, that some of his manuscripts, -which he had lent to a lady, had been dropped in the street and -lost. He therefore resolved on completing and publishing _The -Christian Year_. It was not till nearly twenty years after its -first appearance that it received in the _Quarterly Review_ -that meed of applause to which it was justly entitled. The -article which there called attention to its extraordinary merits -was written, we believe; by Mr. Gladstone, whom neither the -bustle of parliamentary life, nor the aridity of financial study, -renders insensible to the charms of those muses who are generally -supposed to haunt woods and caves, and to smile only on the -recluse. - -To us Catholics the name of Keble will always be remembered with -interest, because he shared with Drs. Newman and Pusey the -leadership of that great party in the Anglican Church which has -given so many children to the true church, and has spread through -England and through the world many Catholic doctrines and -practices long dormant or forgotten. We think of him with -affection, because he carried on to the end the work of soothing -the troubled spirit by means of religious verse; because he was -through life the friend of that distinguished convert to whose -genius and writings we owe so much; and because he has, both in -prose and verse, laid down, more clearly and explicitly than any -other Protestant writer, the grounds of our veneration of the -blessed Mother of God Incarnate.[Footnote 67] - - [Footnote 67: _See Lyra Innocentium_, "Church Rites;" - and _The Month_, May, 1866, "John Keble."] - -{352} - -He did not, indeed, follow out his convictions to their -legitimate results; he fancied that he responded to them -sufficiently by remaining where he was. But his poems will ever -remain a witness against the church in which they were composed, -because it can never reduce to practice the doctrines he taught -in reference to the holy eucharist, the confessional, and the -communion of saints. Meanwhile they are silently imbuing the -minds of Anglican readers with feelings and arguments favorable -to the divine system of the Catholic Church. Though his -_Christian Year_ is adapted to the services of the Church of -England, and though its chief purpose, as stated in the preface, -is "to exhibit the soothing tendency of the Prayer-Book," the -author's sympathies are with the Book of Common Prayer in its -Catholic, and not in its Protestant aspects. During more than -forty years it has been chiselling the Anglican mind into a more -orthodox shape. It moulds the chaotic elements of faith into -substance, form, and life. It supplies the lost sense of -Scriptures, and lays the foundation of towers and bulwarks it -cannot build. It opens bright vistas of realized truth, and -points to glorious summits from the foot of the hill. It is not -inspired with genius of the highest order; the range it takes is -more circumscribed in some respects than that of Cowper; it -seldom reaches the sublime, and is always pleasing rather than -original. But in spite of these drawbacks, it has wound itself -more and more into public esteem. No poetry is read more -habitually by members of the Established Church. The number of -those is very large who take down _The Christian Year_ from -their bookshelves every Sunday and festival. It rings every -change on the theme Resignation, and presents it in all its -truest and most beautiful lights. It has extracted from the -sacred writings the very marrow of the text, has developed in a -thousand ways the typical and mystic import of Scripture -histories, expressed from them abundantly the wine and oil of -consolation, and conveyed it to us in poetic ducts of no mean -kind. - - "As for some dear familiar strain - Untired we ask, and ask again. - Ever, in its melodious store. - Finding a spell unheard before;" [Footnote 68] - -so, many Anglicans of the devouter sort recur to Keble's poems -year after year, and end the perusal only with death. Other poets -charm and instruct the mind, he forms it; and while others are -but read, he is learnt. Even the conviction which he cherished of -the heavenly mission of the church of Queen Elizabeth, though -misplaced, added to the sweetness and soothing character of his -verses. But it is deserving of note that his latter volume, -_Lyra Innocentium_, which contains more lamentation than he -uttered before over the shortcomings of his own communion, and -more intense aspirations after Catholic dogma and practice, -evinces at the same time less inward quietude in the writer, and -imparts less of it to the reader. One poem, indeed, called -"Mother out of Sight," on the absence of the holy Mother of God -from the English mind, invoking her, as it did, in a strain of -glorious verse, was omitted, lest it should perplex and disquiet -those who were unused to such invocations, and believed them to -be forbidden by the Anglican Church. - - [Footnote 68: _Christian Year_, "Morning."] - -To cite passages from Keble's poems illustrative of their -soothing tendency, would be to copy almost all he wrote. They -fell like the dew of Hermon, and were a sign and symbol of the -man himself. -{353} -"His bright, fresh, joyous, and affectionate nature," says one -who knew him well, "was an ever-flowing spring, always at play, -_always shedding a gentle, imperceptible, and recreating dew -upon those who came within its reach. There was a Christian -poetry about him_, a natural gift, elevated and transformed by -his consistent piety and religious earnestness, which gilded the -commonest things and the most ordinary actions, and cast the -radiance of an unearthly sunshine all around him." [Footnote 69] -What wonder that the illustrious author of the _Apologia_ -used to look at him with awe when walking in the High Street at -Oxford? What wonder that, when elected a Fellow of Oriel, and for -the first time taken by the hand by the Provost and all the -Fellows, he bore it till Keble took his hand, and then, as he -said, "felt so abashed and unworthy of the honor done him, that -he seemed desirous of quite sinking into the ground"? [Footnote -70] Yet the greater was blessed of the less. For depth and -subtlety of reasoning, for power and pathos in prose composition. -Dr. Newman has surpassed beyond all measure everything which -Keble did or could accomplish. In poetry, the world in general -has awarded the palm to Keble, and the world, we believe, is -right. In the art, at least, of calming the ruffled spirit, the -poet of _The Christian Year_ has outdone his beloved rival -and friend. - - [Footnote 69: _The Month_, vol. iv. p. 142.] - - [Footnote 70: J. H. Newman's _Apologia_, p. 76.] - -The _Lyra Apostolica_ brought Keble and Newman together as -athletes in the arena of poetry; and that series of poems affords -a good opportunity of comparing their several merits, to those -who have the key to the writers' names. They appeared in the -_British Magazine_, signed only with Greek characters -representing the following writers: - - Alpha J. W. Bowden. - Beta R. H. Froude. - Gamma John Keble. - Delta J. H. Newman. - Epsilon R. J. Wilberforce; - Zeta Isaac Williams. - -By far the greater number of the pieces were written by Keble and -Newman, and almost all by the latter have reappeared this year in -a series, which supplies a poetic commentary on the author's -life. These _Verses on Various Occasions_ range over a -period of forty-six years, and having each of them the date and -the place where composed attached to it, the interest of the -whole is thereby greatly increased. Among the poems is that -remarkable one, "The Dream of Gerontius," which was published in -_The Catholic World_ in 1865. But neither Dr. Newman's -verses thus collected, nor the series entitled _Lyra -Apostolica_ in general, are marked by that repose which is the -prevailing feature of _The Christian Year_. The motto chosen -by Froude for the _Lyra_ was truly combative, and shows the -feeling both of Newman and himself, then together at Rome. It was -taken from the prayer of Achilles on returning to the battle, and -it implores Heaven to make his enemies know the difference, now -that his respite from fighting is over. - - [Greek text] [Footnote 71] - - [Footnote 71: _Iliad_, [Sigma] 125. _Apologia_, p. 98.] - -The scars of warfare are visible even in Newman's hymns. He has -evidently passed through many an inward conflict, and fought -with, many an external foe. He has vacated ground he once -occupied, and he defends principles which he once assailed. He -pierces many heights, and depths, and has to be always on his -guard against his lively imagination. -{354} -He is lucid as any star, but not always as serene. He flashes now -and then like a meteor; he hints and suggests in nebulous light. -He is a pioneer of thought; he shoots beyond his comrades; he -walks "with Death and Morning on the Silver Horns." He sees, -where others grope; he is at home, where others feel confused and -out of place. He is, like Ballanche, [Footnote 72] more satisfied -of the truth of the unseen than of the visible world. Mysteries -are his solemn pastime. He strikes his harp in Limbo, as -Spaniards weave a dance in church before the Holy Sacrament. His -dreams are Dantesque; he is half a seer. The veil of death is -rent before him, and his soul, by anticipation, launches into the -abyss. The chains of the body are dropped, and angels and demons -come round him to console and to harass his solitary spirit in -its transition state. His condition there, like his poetry, and -like himself on earth and in the body, is one of mingled quietude -and disturbance; - - "And the deep rest, so soothing and so sweet, - Had something, too, of sternness and of pain." - [Footnote 73] - - [Footnote 72: _Dublin Review_, July, 1865, p. 10. - "Madame Récamier."] - - [Footnote 73: "Dream of Gerontius," § 2.] - -The happy, suffering soul ("for it is safe, consumed, yet -quickened, by the glance of God,") sings in Purgatory in a strain -identical with that to which it was used in this mortal life: - - "Take me away, and in the lowest deep - There let me be, - And there in hope the lone night-watches keep, - Told out for me. - There motionless and happy in my pain, - Lone, not forlorn-- - There will I sing my sad perpetual strain - Until the morn; - There will I sing and soothe my stricken breast, - Which ne'er can cease - To throb and pine and languish, till possest - Of its sole peace." [Footnote 74] - - [Footnote 74: Ibid. § 6.] - -There is, indeed, one of Dr. Newman's poems, and that one the -most popular and beautiful he has ever composed, which is -singularly pathetic and peaceful. Yet even here darker shades are -not wanting. The angel faces are "lost awhile," and the "pride" -and self-will of former years recur to the memory like spectres. -It was in June, 1833, when becalmed in the Straits of Bonifacio -in an orange-boat [Footnote 75] that Dr. Newman wrote "Lead, -Kindly Light." The _Pall Mall Gazette_--no mean critic--has -said of it recently, [Footnote 76] "It appears to us one of the -most perfect poems of the kind in the language." - - [Footnote 75: _Apologia_, p. 99.] - - [Footnote 76: Jan. 23, 1868] - - "Lead, kindly Light, amid th' encircling gloom. - Lead thou me on! - The night is dark, and I am far from home-- - Lead thou me on! - Keep thou my feet: I do not ask to see - The distant scene--one step enough for me. - - "I was not ever thus, nor prayed that thou - Would'st lead me on. - I loved to choose and see my path; but now - Lead thou me on! - I loved the garish day, and, spite of fears. - Pride ruled my will: remember not past years. - - "So long thy power hath blest me, sure it still - Will lead me on - O'er moor and fen, o'er crag and torrent, till - The night is gone; - And with the morn those angel faces smile - Which I have loved long since, and lost awhile." - -Fond as Dr. Newman is of modern poetry he has not imitated it. -His style is original--a rare mixture of strength, sincerity, and -sweetness, moulded rather after the choruses of Greek dramas, -than the rich creations of Keats, Shelley, Tennyson, and -Longfellow. Hence his poems bear a nearer resemblance to Milton's -_Samson Agonistes_ than to any other English production. His -lyrical pieces, again, often remind us of George Herbert, and of -Shenstone, Waller, and Cowley. They have a clearness of -expression and bright fluency, which makes you love the writer -even when you cannot greatly admire his verse. One of the best -specimens of his poetic faculty in the _Verses on Various -Occasions_ is a poem called "Consolations in Bereavement," -written in 1828. -{355} -It turns on one idea--the rapidity of death's work in the case of -the dear sister whom he mourns. He solaces himself with the -reflection that the deed was quickly done, and thus derives -comfort from a thought which is in most cases afflictive. Perhaps -Byron's lines were unconsciously running in his head: - - "I know not if I could have borne - To see thy beauties fade: - ...... - - Thy day without a cloud hath past, - And thou wert lovely to the last; - _Extinguished, not decayed_; - As stars that shoot along the sky - Shine brightest as they fall from high." - -Dr. Newman's poetry did not properly fall within the scope of -this article, but we have been led to speak of it because he was -Keble's colleague in the _Lyra Apostolica_, and because the -verses of the surviving poet have just appeared in England in a -new form, and have attracted general attention and been made the -subject of admiring and affectionate criticism not merely by -Catholic periodicals, but by non-Catholic reviews and newspapers -of every political and religious shade. Indeed, the praise -bestowed on them by such journalists has exceeded that of our own -critics, because it has, generally speaking, been more -discriminating and uttered by higher authorities in the literary -world. - -Let us then rejoice that English literature includes three poets -at least--Cowper, Keble, and Wordsworth--who are in a good sense -quietists, and the tenor of whose writings, from first to last, -is tranquillizing. They may not, perhaps, be the authors who will -afford us most pleasure in the tumultuous season of youthful -enjoyment; but as years advance, and the trials of life present -themselves, one by one, in all their painful reality; as reason -matures and reflection ripens; as the probationary character of -our mortal existence becomes more and more clear to our -apprehension; as the discovery of much that is formal and hollow -in society enamors us of rural retreats and sylvan solitudes; as -the inexhaustible treasures of beauty and magnificence in the -material universe unfold before our gaze; as the things unseen -triumph over visible objects in our thoughts and affections, we -shall find in such poetry as we have attempted to describe, more -that is congenial and charming, and shall cherish with fonder -remembrance the names of Cowper, the mellifluous exponent of -Christian ethics and delights; of Keble, the bard of Biblical -lore; and of Wordsworth, the child and poet of nature. Like -skilful tuners of roughly-used instruments, they will reduce to -sweetness our spirits' harsher and discordant tones, and fit us -to take our part in the everlasting harmonies of the boundless -universe. They will each make poetry, in our view, the handmaid -of science and revelation, accepting with rapture the vast, -amazing discoveries of the one, and ever seeking to harmonize -them with the momentous and soul-subduing disclosures of the -other. They will impart to mute matter the voice and power of a -moral teacher, imbue inanimate things (to our imagination) with -life and feeling, inspire us with "a glorious sympathy with suns -that set" and rise, with "flowers that bloom and stars that -glow," with the birdling warbling on her bough, and the ocean -bellowing in his caves; and will lead us by nature's golden steps -to the footstool of the Creator's throne; for, in the eyes of -such poets, earth is "crammed with heaven," and every common bush -on fire with God. - ----------- - -{356} - - The Early Irish Church. [Footnote 77] - - [Footnote 77: _Essays on the Origin, Doctrines, and - Discipline of the Early Irish Church_. By the Rev. Dr. - Moran, Vice-Rector of the Irish College, Rome. Dublin, 1864. - Pp. vii., 337. For sale by the Catholic Publication Society, - New York.] - -The early Irish Church is now the subject of a close scrutiny and -deep study, that bids fair to shed upon it all the light that can -be poured upon the subject by such written material as war, -oppression, persecution, and penal laws have been insufficient to -destroy. There are two schools, and their emulating labors will -allow little to escape, both being well versed in ecclesiastical -history, the Irish language, annals, and literature. - -It is needless to say that there are a Catholic and a Protestant -school--the latter of comparatively recent origin. The Anglican -Church in Ireland, studying what it had long despised, now seeks -to hold forth to the world that it is the real successor and -representative of the early Irish Church; while the Catholic -Church in Ireland is simply a papal continuation of the foreign -church, forced on Ireland by Henry II. and Pope Adrian IV., and -their respective successors. Unfortunately, however, the memory -of man records not the fact that, in the sixteenth century and -later, the Thirty-nine Articles and Book of Common Prayer were -presented to the Irish as being the creed and liturgy of its -early saints. Those who burnt the crosier of Patrick broke with -the early Irish Church as effectually as they did with the -romanized Irish Church of later days. - -At the beginning of this century, Ledwich, following in the wake -of the wild theories of Conyers Middleton, denied entirely the -existence of St. Patrick, and his theory met with no little favor -among those opposed to the church. Now his existence is admitted, -his life studied and written, and efforts made, with no little -skill, industry, and learning, to show that the Roman Catholic -Church has no claim to St. Patrick or the church which he -founded; a church so full of life, that its missionaries spread -to other lands, and went forth with papal sanction to plant -catholicity or revive fervor on the continent. It is to this -curious phase of controversy that we are indebted for the volume -of Essays which are here contributed by Doctor Moran, and which -evince his learning and research, as well as his fitness for -close historical argument. - -That there should be much material for a discussion as to so -early a period as the fifth century may surprise many, especially -those who have always been taught to clear with a bound some ten -or more centuries prior to the sixteenth. And it must be admitted -that it is indeed surprising, when we consider the wholesale -destruction of Irish manuscripts by the English in Ireland from -the time of Henry down to the present century. From the period of -the invasion to the Reformation, though invaders and invaded were -alike Catholic, the English treated the Irish with such contempt -that only five families or bloods were recognized as human, and -even monasteries were closed to men of Irish race. The literature -of the proscribed was of course slighted and despised. - -{357} - -From the Reformation the literary remains of earlier days were -proscribed and destroyed, not only as Irish but as popish. - -In this almost universal destruction, the ecclesiastical books, -missals, sacramentaries, breviaries, penitentials, the canons of -councils, doctrinal books, many historical and biographical -treatises perished. The Irish people and their church hold by -tradition to their predecessors, and claim to be direct -successors of the church and converts of St. Patrick. Nor can the -Anglican party which destroyed so much of Irish literature now -base any argument on the silence of manuscript authority or draw -any inference in their favor from the absence of proofs, for -whose disappearance they are themselves accountable. - -The uninterrupted adherence of the Irish nation to the Roman -Church gives it the force of prescription, and it will hold good -against all but the most direct and positive evidence. - -No mere inferences can invalidate her claim. - -The documents regarding the early Irish Church begin with the -confession of Saint Patrick and his letter to Coroticus, a -piratical British chief, published by Ware in 1656, from four -manuscripts, and by the Bollandists from a manuscript in the -Abbey of Saint Vaast. - -The canons ascribed to the saint were published by the same, as -well as by Spelman and Usher. - -Of the lives of the saint, the least valuable of all is that by -Jocelin, an English monk, who wrote soon after the conquest. This -is given in the Bollandists and in Messingham's Florilegium. -Earlier and better lives, four in number, were collected and -published by Colgan in his Acta Triadis Thaumaturgae, a work of -which we doubt the existence of a copy on this side of the -Atlantic. - -Among these earlier lives, one by Probus is of much value. It was -printed, strangely enough, among the works of Venerable Bede, in -the Basil edition of that father issued in 1563, and, apparently, -the whole work was taken from manuscripts preserved at the Irish -convent at Bobbio. - -These are the more important material for the life of the apostle -of Ireland, together with unpublished matter in some very ancient -Irish manuscripts, codices known for centuries, such as the Book -of Armagh, a manuscript of the eighth or ninth century, which -contains a life of Saint Patrick by Muirchu-Maccu-Mactheni; the -Leabhar Breac, considered the most valuable Irish manuscript on -ecclesiastical matters; the Tripartite Life in the British -Museum, the early national annals, etc. - -As to the antiquity and value of these ancient codices Westwood -in his _Palaeographia Sacra Pictoria_ (London, 1843-5) may -be consulted. - -For the liturgy of the early Irish Church, we have a missal -preserved at Stowe, in England, and ascribed to the sixth -century, but which unfortunately has never been fully and -completely published; a missal preserved in the monastery founded -by Saint Columbanus at Bobbio, and printed by Mabillon in his -_Iter Italicum_; the _Antiphonarium Benchorense_; the -Exposition of the Ceremonies of the Mass preserved in the Leabhar -Breac and a treatise on the Mass Vestments in the same volume, as -well as the Liber Hymnorum, and various separate hymns. - -The lives of the Irish saints, many of which have been published -by Colgan, Messingham, the Bollandists, as well as the meagre -Irish secular annals, throw much light on the social and -religious life of the ancient Irish. - -{358} - -Such is, in brief, the documentary array to be appealed to in the -controversy, as to the origin and character of the Irish Church. - -And surely what has come down in fragments shows a church which -the Anglican Church could not but condemn. The warmest advocate -of the identity of the Anglican Church in Ireland with the early -Irish Church, would find the old Irish mass, as preserved in the -Stowe or the Bobbio missal, a very objectionable worship; the -monks and nuns unsuited to our age; and the prayers, -penitentiary, and belief in miraculous powers in the church -utterly inconsistent with Protestant ideas; while the Catholic -Irish would find the mass, if said in one of their churches, so -like that they daily hear, that it would excite scarce a word of -comment; monks and nuns would certainly excite less; and the -prayers of that early day still circulate with the commendation -of the actual head of the Catholic Church, the successor of -Celestine. - -The position having been abandoned that St. Patrick never -existed, national pride, which from the days of Jocelin has bent -its energies to prove that he was a Briton of the island of Great -Britain and born in Scotland, now would prove that he was a -genuine Englishman in his total renunciation of papal authority. - -In the recent life of St. Patrick by Dr. Todd, this, though -treated lightly as a matter of slight import, is really the -marrow of the book. - -The mission of St. Patrick has been uniformly attributed to Pope -St. Celestine, who held the chair of Peter from 422 to 432; and -is intimately connected with a previous one of the deacon of -Celestine, St. Palladius, who made an unsuccessful attempt to -christianize Ireland; and the mission of St. Palladius grew out, -it would seem, of a deputation of Gallic bishops to Britain to -check the progress of Pelagianism. - -Todd endeavors ingeniously to break up these connected facts. He -seeks to show that Palladius was a deacon not of St. Celestine, -but of St. Germain, Bishop of Auxerre; that the history of -Palladius and Patrick have been confounded; and that Patrick was -not sent to Ireland till 440, and consequently could not have -been sent by St. Celestine. This would, to some extent, deliver -the early Irish Church from the terrible responsibility of having -received its origin from Rome. - -Dr. Moran's work is made up of three essays: "On the Origin of -the Irish Church and its Connection with Rome;" "On the teaching -of the Irish Church concerning the Blessed Eucharist;" and, on -"Devotion to the Blessed Virgin in the Ancient Church of -Ireland." - -In the first of these essays he meets the arguments of the Senior -Fellow of Trinity by a careful and close examination, showing -that both Palladius and Patrick owed their mission to Rome and to -St. Celestine, and settles conclusively the date of St. Patrick's -landing in Ireland. - -He discusses at length the mission of Palladius; sketches the -life of St. Patrick, and his connection with St. Germain; and -states briefly the proofs of his Roman mission. He then refutes -the array of modern theories in regard to the great apostle from -Ledwich to Todd, and accumulates evidence to show how the early -Irish Church regarded the holy see. - -The period when Saint Palladius and Saint Patrick successively -proceeded to Ireland, was not one of obscurity. The church was -full of vitality, and met Nestorius in the east, Pelagius in the -west, the Manichees in Africa, with the power and might of a -divine institution. -{359} -It was the day of St. Augustine, St. Germain, of Vincent of -Lerins, of Cassian, Chrysostom, St. Gregory of Nyssa, St. Jerome. -St. Basil, St. Ambrose, St. Athanasius, even, and St. Anthony -were still fresh in the memory of those who had heard the words -of life from their lips, or gazed on them in reverence. The -Council of Ephesus was actually in session defining the honor due -to the Mother of God. The canon of Holy Scripture had been -settled thirty-five years before, in the Council of Carthage, and -St. Jerome's version was gradually supplanting the Vetus Itala in -the hands of the faithful. - -The monastic life, a vigorous tree planted at Rome by Athanasius, -had already spread over the Latin Church, in its multiform -activity and zeal. It grew under the mighty hand of Augustine, -was nurtured by that St. Martin of Tours, whose reputation was so -widespread. It gave a Lerins, with its school of bishops, -writers, and saints; the abbey of St. Victor at Marseilles, where -Cassian prayed and wrote. - -But if this was a great age of the church, the Roman empire -showed no such signs of vitality. It was tottering to its fall. -Along its whole western territory, stretching from Italy to -Caledonia, the pagan barbarians of Germany were pressing with -relentless power, threatening destruction to Roman, romanized -Briton, and romanized Gaul--for all of whom the German had but -one name, still preserved by the race, the Anglo-Saxon terming -the descendants of the Britons Welsh, as the Fleming does the -French or the south of Germany the Italian. A little later this -German race, last in Europe to embrace the faith and first to -revolt from it, overran Britain, establishing the Saxon monarchy, -making Gaul the land of Franks, and giving Spain and Italy Gothic -sovereigns. - -Before this torrent burst, the church in Italy, Britain, and Gaul -was closely united. Heresies appeared and gained ground in -Britain. To meet this Pelagian enemy, the insular bishops -appealed for aid to Gaul. The bishops of that country in council, -selected St. Germain and St. Lupus to go to Britain; and Prosper, -in his chronicle, assures us that, through the instrumentality of -Palladius the deacon, Pope Celestine in 426 sent Germain in his -own stead to root out heresy there, and direct the Britons to the -Catholic faith. - -But this was not the only work. To recover what was straying was -well; but a new island was yet to be conquered to the faith, one -in which the Roman eagle had never flashed, but which seems to -the eye of faith a field white for the reaper. - -Attached to Germain by ties of which there is no doubt, was a man -of Roman-British race, whose whole associations were with the -church of Gaul, who had been a slave for several years in -Ireland, and yearned to return to it as a herald of the Gospel. -He is stated, in the earliest lives, to have been recommended by -Saint Germain to Pope Celestine, as one fitted for such a work. -The pope, however, either to give greater dignity to the new -mission, or to leave no doubt of the Roman character of the work, -chose in 431 Palladius, deacon of the Roman Church, already -mentioned, to be the first apostle to the Scots, as the Irish -were then termed. Saint Germain and Saint Lupus went to Britain -in 429, and labored with zeal and success there during that year -and the next. The ancient Irish writer, who wrote a commentary on -a hymn in honor of Saint Patrick by St. Fiacc, and who is cited -by Irish scholars as scholiast on Saint Fiacc's hymn, states that -Saint Patrick accompanied the Gallic bishops to Britain. -{360} -In itself it would be probable. The intimate relations between -the Bishop of Auxerre and the British priest, would naturally -lead that prelate to choose him as a companion. That Palladius, -who had been the pope's agent in the matter, accompanied them, -also, would seem natural. His selection for the Irish mission -after Saint Germain's return in 430, would follow as naturally. - -He was made bishop, and sent to the Scots (Irish) in 431; and -that Saint Patrick was in some manner appointed by the pope to -the same work, or connected with the mission with a degree of -authority, is evident from the fact that, when Saint Palladius, -after an ineffectual attempt to establish a mission in Wicklow, -was driven from the country, and died, as some say, in Scotland, -his Roman companions at once hastened to Saint Patrick, to notify -him as one who possessed some jurisdiction in the matter; and all -accounts agree that on this intelligence, Saint Patrick at once -proceeded to obtain the episcopal consecration, and sailed to -Ireland. - -Looking at the whole action of the pope in regard to the checking -of Pelagianism in Britain, and the conversion of Ireland, this -theory, first suggested by Dr. Lanigan, answers every -requirement. It contravenes no fact given by any early author, -and is in perfect harmony with every part. The Rome-appointed -subordinates of Palladius reported to Patrick as a recognized -superior, and it is utterly impossible that between him, the -disciple of Germain and Palladius, the Roman delegate to Germain, -there could have been diversity of faith or ecclesiastical -discipline. The appointment of Patrick to the Irish mission was -simultaneous with that of Palladius, to whom the priority was -given. On the death of Palladius he succeeded, and required but -the episcopal consecration to begin his labors as a bishop in -Ireland. - -This would make the Roman origin of the Irish Church too clear -for Dr. Todd to accept it without a struggle. With what might -almost be termed unfairness, he ignores the statement of a -perfect catena of Irish writers as to the character of Palladius, -in order to make him a deacon, not of the pope, but of Saint -Germain. - -Later lives of Saint Patrick, written long after the death of the -saint, by introducing vague traditions, have doubtless -embarrassed the question. That some took his appointment by, -Celestine to have required his visiting Rome after the death of -Palladius, was natural; but he would really have been appointed -by Celestine, even though consecrated in Gaul after the death of -that pope, if this was done in pursuance of previous orders of -the holy see. It would not be strange to Catholic ideas that -Saint Patrick had what would be now termed his bulls unacted -upon, either from humility or some other motive; and the history -of the church contains many examples where bulls have been so -held, to be acted on ultimately only when the necessity of the -church made the candidate feel it a duty to assume the burden -from which he shrank. - -Dr. Moran proves that Patrick drew his mission from Rome by a -solid array of authorities, which embrace some of the most -ancient Irish manuscripts extant. The Book of Armagh contains two -tracts, one the _Dicta Sancti Patricii_, expressing his wish -that his disciple should be "ut Christiani ita et Romani;" the -other the annals of Tirechan, written about the middle of the -seventh century, stating absolutely that in the thirteenth year -of the Emperor Theodosius the Bishop Patrick was sent by -Celestine, bishop and pope of Rome, to instruct the Irish. - -{361} - -The Leabhar Breac, styled by Petrie "the oldest and best Irish -manuscript relating to church history now preserved," furnishes -us evidence no less clear and decisive. The second Life of Saint -Patrick, ascribed to Saint Eleran, (ob. 664;) the scholiast on -Saint Fiacc, the Life by Probus, are all equally explicit, -showing it to have been a recognized fact in Ireland within two -centuries after the apostle's own day. - -Dr. Moran, besides these, accumulates other authority of a later -period, some hitherto uncited, and due to the researches of -German scholars among the manuscripts still extant, due to the -hands of the early Irish apostles of their land. - -One argument of Dr. Todd was based on the silence of Muirchu -Maccu Mactheni in the Book of Armagh; but Dr. Moran answers this -fully by showing that part of that early writer's work is -missing; and that, as the Life of Saint Probus follows, word for -word, the parts extant, we may assume that Saint Probus followed -him in other parts; and in regard to Saint Patrick's mission, -Saint Probus is clear and plain. - -The church in Ireland, then, was the spiritual child of Rome and -Gaul. Her great missionary, a Breton, came from the schools of -Gaul, with authority from Rome, and the church which he founded -was in harmony with the church in Britain, Gaul, and Italy. What -the faith of the church in those countries was, admits of no -doubt; and were there no monuments extant to give explicit -evidence of the faith of the Irish Church, this would give us -implicit evidence sufficient, in the absence of any contradictory -authority, to decide what its faith, doctrines, and liturgy were. - -The vice-rector of the Irish College marshals his authorities -again and shows that the church founded by an envoy from Rome -retained its connection with the holy see and its reverence for -the See of Peter. He adduces hymns of the Irish Church, various -writings of successive ages, express canonical enactments -regarding Rome, and finally the pilgrimages to the holy city, in -itself an irrefragable proof of the veneration entertained for -Rome; but he crowns all this by adducing the many extant cases in -which Irish bishops and clergy appealed to Rome. - -But it may be thought that the terrible changes caused by the -invasion of the barbarians which in a manner isolated Ireland may -have led insensibly to differences of faith or practice in that -island, cut off from the centre of unity by the pagan England -that had succeeded Christian Britain, and the pagan France that -replaced Christian Gaul. - -Have we aught to prove what the Irish Church believed and taught; -at what worship the faithful knelt; how they were received into -the body of believers; what rites consoled them in death? -Fortunately there is much to console us here, as well as to -convince us. One of the most important parts of the work we are -discussing is the clear and distinct manner in which he proves -the Irish character of the missal found at Bobbio, and reproduced -by Mabillon in his _Iter Italicum_. Having, by what light we -possessed, come to the conclusion that it was in no sense Irish, -we examined this portion with interest, and must admit that the -proof is clear. Bobbio was a monastery founded by St. Columbanus, -and its rich library gave much to the early printers, and yet -much still remains in the Ambrosian library at Milan. -{362} -This missal has no distinctive Irish offices, and its containing -an office of St. Sigebert, King of Burgundy, seemed to refute any -idea of its being Irish. Yet we know that St. Columbanus founded -a monastery at Luxeu before proceeding to Bobbio, and in both -places retained his Irish office. The adding of a local Mass -would not be strange. In itself this missal corresponds with that -Irish missal preserved at Stowe in many essential points, and -with no other known missal; the orthography and writing are -undoubtedly Irish; the liturgy in itself is not that of Gaul; it -resembles it in many respects, but the canon is that of Rome. -This striking feature appears in the Stowe missal. Mabillon, from -its antiquity, himself infers that Saint Columbanus brought it -from Luxeu, and it is as probable that he brought it from -Ireland. - -It gives us the Mass of the ancient Irish Church, and Curry gives -in his lectures a translation of an "Exposition of the Ceremonies -of the Mass" from the Irish in the Leabhar Breac. The Mass and -the exposition place beyond a doubt the belief of the Irish -Church in the Real Presence. The exposition is as distinct as if -written to meet any opposition. "Another division of that pledge, -which has been left with the church to comfort her, is the body -of Christ and his blood, which are offered upon the altars of the -Christians; the body even which was born of Mary the Immaculate -Virgin, without destruction of her virginity, without opening of -the womb, without the presence of man; and which was crucified by -the unbelieving Jews out of spite and envy; and which arose after -three days from death, and sits upon the right hand of God the -Father in heaven." (_Curry's Lectures_, p. 307.) - -The words of the Mass are no less explicit, and the Bobbio missal -contains these words: "Cujus carne a te ipso sanctificata, dum -pascimur, roboramur, et sanguine dum potamur, abluimur." The -whole early literature, the lives of the saints, and other -monuments teem with allusions to the sacrifice of Christ's body -and blood, and the saying of Mass is not unfrequently expressed -by the term "conficere Corpus Domini." - -The proofs adduced by Dr. Moran on this point extend to sixty -pages, showing the most exact research and learning, and -accumulating evidence on evidence, meeting and refuting -objections of every kind. - -The sacrament of penance and its use is no less apparent; nor is -the devotion to the blessed Virgin and the saints a point on -which the slightest doubt is left. - -Dr. Moran's work is certainly, since the appearance of -_Lanigan's Ecclesiastical History_, (4 vols. Dublin, 1822,) -the most valuable treatise on the early Irish Church, and -completely sets at rest the theories set up by W. G. Todd, in -_A History of the Ancient Church in Ireland_, London, 1845; -and with great learning and skill by James H. Todd, in his -_Saint Patrick, Apostle of Ireland: A Memoir of his Life and -Mission_, Dublin, 1864. - -We need now a popular treatise embracing the result of his labor, -in a small volume, like the work of W. G. Todd, and a volume -containing the Bobbio missal, (that at Stowe is probably sealed,) -with the treatise on the Mass and vestments from the Leabhar -Breac, and a selection of the prayers and hymns of the early -church that have come down to us. With these common in the hands -of the clergy, to familiarize them with what remains of the -church of their fathers, we may hope to see the old Irish Mass, -the "Cursus Scottorum" or Mass of the early Irish Church, chanted -by the cardinal archbishop of Dublin on the great patronal feast, -as the Mozarabic liturgy is in Spain, or the Ambrosian at Milan. -It would be a living proof that, if the Irish and other churches -laid aside their peculiar liturgies to adopt exclusively that of -Rome, it was not that the former were objectionable; but that -unity was too desirable to be postponed. - --------- - -{363} - - My Angel. - - - "He hath given his angels charge over thee." - - - There's an angel stands beside my heart, - And keepeth guard. - How I wish sometimes that he would depart, - And its strong desires would cease to thwart - With his stern regard! - - But he never moves as he standeth there - With unwinking eyes; - And at every pitfall and every snare - His silent lips form the word, "Forbear!" - Till the danger flies. - - His look doth oft my purpose check - And aim defeat. - And I change my course at his slightest beck. - 'Tis well, or I soon would be a wreck - For the waves to beat. - ------- - -{364} - - - Translated From The French. - - An Italian Girl Of Our Day. [Footnote 78] - - [Footnote 78: _Rosa Ferrucci: her Life, her Letters, - and her Death_, By the Abbé H. Perreyve.] - - - [The first Italian edition of the _Letters of Rosa - Ferrucci_ appeared at Florence in 1857, a request for their - publication having been made to her mother by his Eminence - Cardinal Corsi, Archbishop of Pisa. The pious prelate was not - less desirous of seeing the account of so edifying a death - published, when he had learned the circumstances from the Prior - of San Sisto, who had attended Signorina Ferrucci in her last - moments. - - A second edition appeared in 1858, enriched with numerous - details, at the express request of Monsignor Charvaz, - Archbishop of Genoa. - - During a brief stay which I made at Pisa, Monsignor della - Fanteria, vicar-general of the diocese, spoke to me of the - profound impression which the death of Signorina Ferrucci had - left on all memories, and of the edification which he hoped - from her _Letters_. He expressed a wish that they should - be made known in France, and even urged me to undertake their - translation myself. - - Authorities such as these, and the testimony of persons of - undoubted judgment as to the good this little work has already - done, have determined me to publish it for the second time. May - it edify yet again some young souls, by showing them in - Christianity an ideal too often sought elsewhere. - - _December_, 1858.] - - -The following are the circumstances which led to the publication -of the _Letters_ here presented to the reader. - -Toward the end of April, last year, (1857,) as I was returning -from Rome, I stopped at Pisa. The hand of God conducted me then -into the midst of a family, of whose unclouded happiness I had -been the witness only a few months before, but which had now, -alas! been visited by death. It was one of those sudden, -heart-rending bereavements which make one falter on the desolated -threshold of his friend, and which chill on one's lips the -tenderest words of consolation. - -What would you say to the father and mother who lose an only -daughter--their joy, their life, and, moreover, the pride and the -edification of a whole town? Better be silent and ask God to -speak. - -Happily, in this case, God did speak; and the noble souls whose -sorrows are to be recounted here, were of the number of those who -know his voice. - -After the first tears and the first outpouring of a grief which -time rendered only the more poignant, the poor mother asked me to -accompany her to the house where her daughter had died, and which -she herself had quitted from that day. A servant belonging to one -of the neighboring houses had the keys of this funereal dwelling, -and he opened the doors for us. We expected to find only the -presence of death and the vivid remembrance of the sorrows of -yesterday in the silence of those deserted chambers; but -Christian charity had watched over the spot, and from our first -steps a delicate perfume of roses betrayed its loving attentions. -{365} -Indeed, we found the chamber of the dead girl strewn with -flowers. They were fresh, some faithful hand having renewed them -that very morning. This unlooked-for spectacle awakened in our -minds the thought that the Christian's death is not so much a -death as a transformation of life. Therefore it was that, when, -kneeling near the poor sobbing mother, I asked her if she wished -me to recite the _De Profundis_, she answered in a firm -voice and almost smiling, "No, let us recite the _Te Deum_." - -The hymn concluded, I led the pious woman from that room where -her sorrow seemed changed into exultation, and I said to her on -the way: "From all that I know, from all that I can learn of your -daughter, she was a saint. The delicate piety of your neighbors -attests how powerful is still the recollection of her: the -example of her life, and the details of her holy death, must not -be lost. You must preserve them for the edification of her -companions; for the edification of the town which has known her, -loved her, venerated her; for the edification of ourselves also, -who must one day die, and whom the examples of all holy deaths -encourage and support." I was not the first to express this -desire; many friends had anticipated me in begging for a history -which they believed well calculated to reflect honor on our holy -religion. - -Before I left Pisa, I had obtained the desired promise, pledging -myself, at the same time, to make known in France, to some -Christian readers, this history, wrung from the anguish of a -mother by the single desire of promoting the glory of God. Some -months later, the book appeared at Florence, with the following -title, _Rosa Ferrucci, and some of her Writings, published -under the supervision of her Mother_. It remains, then, for me -to fulfil, on my part, the pious obligation I have contracted. - -Rosa Ferrucci was the daughter of the celebrated Professor -Ferrucci, of the University of Pisa, and of the Signora Caterina -Ferrucci, a lady well known in Italy for her poetry, and for some -excellent works on education. It is little more than a year since -this young girl was, by her brilliant intellectual gifts and the -holiness of her life, the honor of the city of Pisa. The grave -habits of a Christian family, all the veils, all the precautions, -all the fears of modesty, had not been able to shield her from a -sort of religious admiration which she inspired in all who saw -her. How prevent mothers from pointing out the holy child to -their daughters, or the poor from blessing her as she passed? -Rosa possessed natural talents of a high order, and her education -was singularly favorable to the full development of every gift of -mind and heart. At six years of age she read Italian, French, and -German. At a later period she knew by heart the whole of the -_Divine Comedy_. She read in the original, under the -direction of her mother, Virgil, Cicero, Tacitus; and, among -modern authors, Bossuet, Bourdaloue, Fenelon, Fleury, Milton, -Schiller, Klopstock. I mention at random the authors' quoted by -her in her letters to her friends, passing by writers of our own -day. She has left a correspondence in three languages--French, -German, and Italian. The greater number of the Italian letters -are addressed to a young gentleman of Leghorn, Signor Gaetano -Orsini, a distinguished lawyer and perfect Christian, to whom -Rosa was betrothed, and whose hopes have been shattered by her -death. -{366} -Each part of her correspondence is remarkable, but it is of the -last-mentioned letters that I propose particularly to speak. -Independently of her correspondence, Signorina Ferrucci wrote -many short treatises on religion and Christian morality, several -of which have been published since her death. - -Here, then, we find in a young girl a degree of mental -cultivation--a depth of learning, I might say--which would be -remarkable in a man even of distinguished education. To dwell -long on gifts so rare would interfere with the object I proposed -to myself in writing this little history. I will, then, remark -here, once for all, that, having for several weeks lived on terms -of intimacy with this excellent family, I have witnessed in this -extraordinary girl only a child-like modesty, which made her -always skilful in self-concealment. - -I omit, then, all that relates to this intellectual culture, and -to this taste for classical learning--a taste which was so pure, -so exalted, in this young Christian maiden. Understood and -accepted in Italy, this literary turn of mind would seem strange -in France, where there exists an extravagant fear of raising -woman above a certain intellectual level. I prefer, therefore, -having said on this point merely what was necessary, to speak -henceforth only of the virtues of the saintly girl. - -Even of these I shall specify but one. I leave it to pious -imaginations to guess what there must have been of meekness, of -purity, of obedience, of modesty, of angelic devotion, in such a -soul. I shall speak only of her charity. Love for the poor was -with her a passion, and that from her tenderest years. Certain -souls seem to come into this world commissioned by God to do -honor to a particular virtue; everything in them converges to -that as to a divine centre. The voice of a mother and the voice -of the church have but to quicken the germ of holiness committed -to such souls before their terrestrial journey, and, as soon as -the development of reason allows them to act, they tend quite -naturally to the end which the finger of God had pointed out to -them from above. Rosa Ferrucci brought with her a tender and -unbounded love for the poor. From the little birds which, while -yet an infant, she used to feed in winter-time, to the poor -beggars of Pisa, whom she relieved by denying herself in dress -and amusements, and the neglected graves to which she carried -flowers, "because," she used to say, "I feel a pity for neglected -graves," all poverty touched her heart. Her mother relates some -affecting incidents of her great charity. During a severe winter -her parents remarked that she no longer ate bread at her meals, -although she never failed to pick out the largest piece for -herself. They affected not to know her motive, which she -explained, blushing: "Have I done wrong? Indeed, I did not know -it was wrong; but bread is so dear this year, and this piece -would be sufficient for one poor person." - -If she met in her walks a poor woman tottering under the weight -of a load of wood, her first impulse would be to run to help her, -and it was difficult to restrain this charitable eagerness. She -would then complain, declaring that she could never get -accustomed to seeing poor people toiling so hard. - -On her birthday she ran to her mother and said to her: "Gaetano -is indeed all that I could wish! We have just formed a project -which makes me quite happy. We have promised that on our -birthdays and saints' days, instead of making each other -presents, which are often useless, we will give a large alms to -some poor family." - -{367} - -She was a good musician, and knew how to interpret truly the -sentiment of the masters. One day she went to Florence, -accompanied by her brother, to purchase some pieces of music. But -just as she was entering the town, she met a poor family, who -seemed to be in the last extreme of wretchedness. Their rent must -be paid the next day, or these poor people would be homeless. -Farewell to the pieces of music! And on her return home, when her -friends, to conceal their real joy and admiration, affected to -chide her, she answered: "What would you have had me do? I could -not help it. Tell me yourselves how I could have done otherwise -than I did? Now, you see well that it was impossible!" O holy -_impossibilities!_ which embarrass only those who can never -be resigned to the sufferings of others. - -Innumerable are the incidents of this kind which might be related -of Rosa; for charity is never weary, the more good it has done, -the more it desires to do; but I leave this subject--reluctantly, -indeed--to dwell at more length on the two episodes of this -Christian life, in which I think may be found the most solid -edification and the best encouragement for souls. I speak of a -love and a death, both transfigured by the cross. - -The transfiguration of the life and heart of man in chastity, in -hope, in sacrifice, is a palpable glory of Christianity and one -of the surest marks of its divinity. Jesus Christ, when he came -to sanctify the world, did not destroy the natural conditions of -human life. Since, as before, the shedding of his blood, man is -born in suffering; he weeps, combats, loves, and dies. And yet, -if he is a Christian, all is changed for him. From his cradle to -his grave he walks in a marvellous light, which transfigures all -things in his eyes and thoroughly changes the meaning of life. He -suffers, but each day he adores suffering on the cross; he weeps, -but he has heard that, Blessed are they who weep! he combats, but -with his eyes fixed on heaven; he loves, but in all that he -loves, he loves God; he dies, but then only does he begin to -live. Nay, even the entrance into beatitude is for the Christian -not the last transfiguration; for a blissful eternity is but a -continuous transfiguration in a glory ever increasing, and, as it -were, the eternal flight of created love toward Infinite Love. -This divine flight finds in heaven its region of glory; but it -must not be forgotten that its starting-point is earth--that -before finally gaining the eternal heights, it must first cross -"the fields of mourning, _lugentes campi_." [Footnote 79] - - [Footnote 79: Virg. AEn. i. 4.] - -Hence it is, that for the saints there is no interruption between -heaven and earth; the same path that conducted them yesterday -from virtue to virtue, will lead them to-morrow from glory to -glory, and their death is but an episode of their love. Hence, -also, perhaps that mysterious fraternity of love and death which -is the soul of all true poetry; men catch a glimpse of it and -chant it in their own tongue: - - "The twin brothers, love and death, - At the same time, gave birth to fate." [Footnote 80] - - [Footnote 80: Léopardi.] - -But only the saints know its true secret: "Having a desire to be -dissolved and to be with Christ." [Footnote 81] - - [Footnote 81: Phil. I. 23.] - -When the young soul of whom we now speak had reached a certain -elevation in her flight toward God, she, too, met the sweet and -austere company of those two strong-winged angels--Christian love -and death. She loved: almost as soon she presaged death, and she -died. But she loved as a child of God loves, and she died as a -saint. - -{368} - -I have, then, little more to do than to translate her -_Letters_, in which shines gloriously the beauty of -Christian love, and to give an account of that death worthy of -the church's brightest days. As I have already remarked, these -_Letters_ are addressed to a young gentleman of Leghorn, to -whom Rosa had been betrothed for two years before her death; a -truly noble character whom heaven seemed to have made worthy of -her. A profound and tender love united these two kindred souls. -The simple and sweet manners of good Italian society allowed -their seeing each other often, and did not forbid their almost -daily correspondence. An entire conformity of faith, of piety, of -holy desires, blended into a still closer union those hearts -already so strongly bound to each other; but a more celestial ray -was continually passing from the soul of Rosa into that of -Gaetano. Through her joys, her hopes, the festive preparations -for her wedding, and the dreams of the future, this pious young -girl always saw God. One idea, immense and insatiable, was -dominant over all her desires, the idea of perfection. She gazed -through the veil of her joyous dawnings on the divine sun of -eternal beauty. Her happiness embellished earth to her, but the -earth thus embellished immediately reminded her of heaven; -earthly love put a song on her lips, but the song soon became a -hymn, and always ended with God. It is this insensible and almost -involuntary transition, of which she herself seems unconscious, -from an earthly affection to ardent longings after divine love -and perfection, which constitutes all the beauty of her -_Letters_. The reader must not forget that they were written -by one who was little more than a child, and that whatever there -was of maturity in her young soul was derived from that sun of -Christian faith whose warm rays ripen the intellect, in the -continued childhood of the heart. - -I would fain believe that this young Christian's sisters in the -faith, will find in her _Letters_ something more than a -subject of poetical dreaming. In truth, no life is so really -practical as that of a saint; and, through the veil of beautiful -language, we may discover in the letters of Rosa Ferrucci many -duties faithfully performed by her, many lessons of duty -faithfully to be performed by ourselves. I would then beg of -those young persons to read the following pages with -recollection, and, in order to penetrate their true meaning, to -enter as much as possible into this young girl's ardent desire of -perfection. - -I have spoken of the eternal soaring of souls toward God. Have -you ever, in the beginning of autumn, watched those flights of -birds which, lengthening out in a long train, follow, to the very -last, the same sinuosities? 'Tis said that the strongest, flying -in advance, cleaves the air; and that the weaker, coming after, -enter with ease the aerial furrow. Ah! too feeble that we are to -attempt alone the road to heaven, let us at least learn to enter -the furrows of the saints. Their strong and certain wing will -draw us onward in their track; and when we shall see them so -lovely because they were so loving, we shall advance with less -fear toward Him who was the supreme object of their love. - -{369} - - Rosa To Gaetano. - - Pisa, April 6, 1856. - -I can never thank God enough for giving me in you, Gaetano, an -example and a guide for my whole life. I cannot refrain from -often saying so to my mother, and I say it because it is in my -heart. Spite of all the faults and imperfections which have so -many times prevented me from remaining faithful to the good -resolutions which I constantly make before God, I have so high an -idea of the perfection of a Christian wife, and of the duties I -shall soon have to fulfil, that I should indeed be terrified if I -did not confide in the goodness of God, who can do all, and who -will aid me who can do nothing. I often speak to my mother of the -holy respect with which the sacrament we are going to receive -inspires me; and I earnestly beg of you to ask our Lord for the -graces which are necessary to make me what I ought to be. I -promise you to use all my efforts for this end; and I will -dedicate the prayers of the month of May to this intention, for I -have great confidence that the Blessed Virgin will obtain for me -what I still lack. I believe that we shall have made great -progress toward perfection when we come to detest sincerely all -those little daily faults which seem trifles to us, but which -must be so very displeasing to the infinite perfection of God. In -all this, be sure that I will receive your counsels and -admonitions as they ought to be received from him who, by the -will of God, takes the place of father and mother. - - - April 17. - -I am persuaded that the true means of preparing ourselves to -receive the sacrament by which we shall be united for time and -eternity is, to use all our efforts to attain that state of -Christian perfection to which God calls us; and I am also sure -that, if we cannot arrive absolutely at that degree of perfection -which we ardently desire, we can at least kindle in our hearts -the flames of that divine love which is itself the whole law. In -this you will be my guide and my example, Gaetano; we two shall -have but one will, one love also, loving each other in God, in -whom all affections become holy. Our affection did not spring -from outward accomplishments, nor from fleeting beauty, that -flower of a day. It was a stronger tie that bound our souls -together. We love each other because we love God. In him does our -union consist, because in him is all the strength, all the purity -of our love; because in him also is our supreme end. Hence come -those alternations of joy and sadness, according as we approach, -or seem to be receding from, that ideal type of perfection which -is the object of our desires. Ah! how good God is; and how often -I bless him for having put such desires and such hopes into our -hearts. For me, I now see in God not only the eternal power which -created heaven and earth, or the eternal love which redeemed us, -but also that sweet mercy which has given me in you, as it were, -his crowning blessing. - - - April 25. - -Forgive me, Gaetano, my eternal repetitions; but what can I do? -For some time I have been able only to say the same things over -and over again. This very day reminds me of another day, a dear -and solemn one to me. I recollect with unspeakable pleasure the -solitary walk I took, with my mother to speak of you. The -stillness of the country, the fresh aspect of all nature, the -distant voices of the peasants, which alone from time to time -broke the profound tranquillity of the scene--all seemed new to -me, all spoke to my heart. I shall never forget the humble little -church in which, for the first time, I ventured to pray to God to -bless these new thoughts--thoughts which held me suspended, as it -were, between doubt and hope, but which found my heart firmly -resolved to do the divine will in all things. -{370} -From that day I have implored, and still unceasingly implore, the -graces which we need in order to lead together a truly Christian -life. Do you do the same, Gaetano; and let me assure you that I -cannot now pray to God for myself, without at once finding your -name mingled in my supplications. - - - April 30. - -He only is worthy of a reward who has merited it. Do you not know -that combat--and what is life but a continual combat?--must -precede victory? No, Gaetano, we will not be like cowardly -soldiers who would fain have the honors of a triumph without -having seen the face of the foe. Let us rather strive to lay hold -on eternal felicity, which alone can satisfy our desires, by -faithfully performing all our duties; by supporting, for the love -of God, all the trials of life, heavy or light; by devoting -ourselves as much as possible to good works; then the desire of -heaven will not be for us a dreamy ideal or subject of vague -speculation, but it will enter into our daily life to sanctify -it. May your life be prolonged to serve the cause of God by -strong and constant virtues! - - - May 2. - -I believe that, without proposing to ourselves a too ideal and, -as it were, an unattainable type of perfection, we can effect -much by earnestly striving to strengthen our will. Let us keep a -watch over it, and never allow it to incline toward what is evil, -even in the smallest things. Let us always bear in mind those -beautiful words of the _Following of Christ_: "If each year -we corrected one fault, how soon we should become better!" Yes, -strength of will is always necessary, and not less in small -trials than in great ones. In this, it seems to me Christian -perfection really consists; for what can be more pleasing to God -than to see our will always conformed to his? [Footnote 82] - - [Footnote 82: The desire of Christian perfection had inspired - Rosa Ferrucci with the idea of collecting some short maxims, - which were well exemplified in her pious and innocent life. - Among her papers were found this little selection, which - seems to us worthy of translation. - - "To see God in all created things. To refer all to God. To - remember always 'God sees me.' To have a tender love for - the holy Catholic Church. To unite my actions to those of - Jesus Christ. To keep alive in my heart the desire of - heaven. To beg of God the faith and the constancy of the - martyrs. To have an unwavering confidence in the efficacy - of prayer. To succor the poor for the love of God. To watch - and pray. To do good to all. To obey my father and mother. - To be gentle and docile to my teachers. To be silent as - soon as I perceive in my heart the first motions of anger. - Never to read a doubtful book. To have a scrupulous regard - to truth. Never to speak ill of any one. To view in the - best light the actions of others. To subdue all feelings of - envy. To pray often for humility. Never to slight God's - holy inspirations. To work and study diligently. Frequently - to raise my heart to God. To forgive all, at all times and - in all things. To seek my happiness in the performance of - Christian duties. To do whatever is my duty, and for the - rest trust to the goodness of God. To fear sin more than - death. To ask for the sacraments at the beginning of a - serious illness. To speak to God as a tender and beloved - father. To unite my death to that of Jesus Christ."] - - May 30. - -No affection which has not its source in the love of God can ever -make us happy. Let us be well convinced of this, and let us -dedicate our whole life to Him who has done all for us. As for -me, I believe that just as the external pomp of worship is -valueless in the sight of God if it is separated from interior -devotion, so works can do nothing to merit grace unless they are -inwardly animated by a pure intention and the desire of pleasing -God alone. We must, then, always pass from what is without to -what is within, and it is this that I mean when I tell you that I -often seek in visible things a lever to raise me toward the -invisible; discerning in all that meets my eyes here below an -image of that Eternal Beauty which unveils itself only to the -intelligence and to the heart. Thus nothing remains mute to me. -{371} -How many things the mountains tell me, and the stars, and the -sea, and the trees, and the birds!--things which I should not -have known if this mighty voice of nature had not taught them to -me. Oh! how admirable is the goodness of God, who thus by a -thousand ways leads back our souls to the thoughts and the holy -affections for which they were created. - -I have been reading in the _Revue des Deux Mondes_, this -beautiful idea of Jean Paul Richter: "When that which is holy in -the soul of the mother responds to that which is holy in the soul -of the son, their souls then understand each other." This thought -has made a great impression on me; and it seems to me to contain -a grand lesson for all mothers engaged in the religious education -of their sons. It shows us, moreover, the nature of those close -ties which unite us to our relations and our friends. And, -indeed, why do we love one another with such a true and constant -love? Because what is sacred to your soul is sacred also to mine. -Why am I so deeply moved when I hear of some noble action? when I -contemplate the greatness of this world's heroes, and, above all, -the greatness of the saints and martyrs? Why do I weep as I think -of the sacrifices they made with such self-devotion and -fortitude? Because what they held sacred I also hold sacred. -Could more be said in so few words? Yes, every man ought to keep -alive that celestial fire which God has kindled in his heart. -Unhappy he who lets it languish and die out! He loses it for -himself, and is himself lost for his brethren, since he has -broken the bond of love which would have united him to them for -ever. As the flame ascends on high, - - "Which by its form upward aspires," - -SO by nature our souls tend to rise toward God, and if they -return again toward earth, there can be no longer for them either -hope of peace or hope of happiness. - - - July 10. - -Let us not be discouraged, Gaetano, let us always hope; our good -God will help us to become better; for, if we lack strength, at -least we are not wanting in good desires. They are a gratuitous -gift of him who wills our good; of him who has given us the most -living example of humility; of him who knows, and will pardon, -the weakness of our poor nature, if only we will combat with that -perseverance which alone has the promise of victory. Ah! if we -truly loved the Lord, we should think of him alone--of him who is -holy and perfect, instead of always thinking of ourselves, weak -and miserable creatures; and we should end by forgetting -ourselves, by losing ourselves, to live only in him so worthy of -our love; and then we should indeed begin to know that we are -nothing, and that he is all. - -Jesus wishes us to be gentle with ourselves, and would not have -us fall into dejection when, through the frailty of our nature, -we fail in our good resolutions. At times when we are too much -dejected at the sight of our miseries, Jesus Christ seems to say -to us, as to the disciples going to Emmaus: "What are these -discourses that you hold one with another as you walk, and are -sad?" He who is called the Prince of Peace would have us pacific -toward ourselves, and full of compassion for our own infirmity. -When, therefore, we are seized with sadness at sight of our -poverty and of the dryness of our souls, let us say simply and -humbly this little prayer of St. Catharine of Genoa: "Alas! my -Lord, these are the fruits of my garden! Yet I love thee, my -Jesus, and I will strive to do better in future." - -{372} - - July 19, (Feast of St Vincent de Paul.) - -Do you know what we ought to desire? Neither honors, nor riches, -nor any such earthly vanities, which could add nothing to our -peace. Do you know to what end our will, strengthened by love, -ought to turn? Yes, you know it well, and often have you taught -it me; we ought both to aim at realizing in our life something of -that perfection which, after all, can be but partially obtained -on earth. We ought to look at the things that are immortal and -eternal, rather than at those that are temporal and subject to -change, living in such a manner that a true love of God may -actuate our hearts and our thoughts, develop our sentiments -toward what is good, and direct all our actions to a holy end. -How many touching examples of virtues are recalled to our minds -by this day and the festival which it brings! What indefatigable -and universal charity in St. Vincent de Paul! What lively and -ardent piety! What unbounded compassion for all the errors, all -the faults, all the misfortunes, all the sufferings, physical and -moral, of men! What exhaustless patience! And who among us will -dare to say that he cannot reproduce in himself some shadow of -those beautiful virtues? If we cannot, like this illustrious -saint, relieve the sufferings of a great number of our -fellow-beings, at least we can be humble, patient, and animated -by that true religion which is ever forgiving, ever loving, -because it loves Him who is all mercy and all love. - - To Be Continued. - --------------- - - The Episcopalian Confessional. - -It is with great satisfaction that Catholics behold the adoption -by any class of Protestants of their peculiar rites or -ceremonies. It is an indication of an approach to the doctrines -so vehemently renounced at the Reformation, and ought, by strict -logic, to result in the return of many to the old faith. And -though, unfortunately, there are men who play with religious -doctrines as if they were of no practical consequence, there are -always some who are in earnest, and are found ready to make -sacrifices for the sake of truth. From the use of Catholic -ceremonies, which are really all founded on vital doctrine, some -conversions must certainly flow; and the Protestant Church, which -moves in such a direction, is drifting from its old moorings, and -floating toward the safe waters where the bark of St. Peter rides -out every storm. - -If there be any of our practices which are essentially a part of -our religious system, surely that of confession is one which is -absolutely _peculiar_ to the Catholic Church. It cannot -lawfully exist without the faith which we hold, and when used, it -drags along with it, irresistibly, our whole moral system. It is -hard to see how any one can confess his sins to a priest, without -accepting the sacerdotal and sacramental system, which can have -no life out of the Catholic communion. Besides, the practical -influence of such confessions leads directly to those habits of -devotion which have no home in Protestantism. -{373} -In the few remarks we are now to make, we do not intend to lose -sight of these convictions, while it is our object to consider -briefly the adoption of the confessional in the Protestant -Episcopal Church, the logical consequences which flow from it, -and even the dangers which attend it. Surely the subject is one -of great moment. If it be of any importance at all, it is of -_vital_ importance. It is either necessary to the soul, or -it is an assumption of powers prejudicial to the interests of -true religion. It cannot be looked upon as an indifferent matter, -which may be used or neglected, according to the taste of the -individual. To a few reflections, therefore, upon it, we -earnestly invite the attention of the honest reader. - - -1. There is no doubt that there is quite a party in the Episcopal -Church which upholds the practice of auricular confession, and -seeks to extend it. There are ministers of that communion who are -anxious to set up the confessional, and disposed to teach its -necessity. In the city of New York, it is well known that the -clergy of St. Albans' are solicitous to hear confessions and love -to be styled _Fathers_, on account of their spiritual -relation to their penitents. The Rev. Dr. Dix, the respected -rector of Trinity Church, the oldest and most influential -corporation of his denomination, is said to have quite a number -of penitents, and to be the most popular confessor, especially -among the higher class. We presume he makes no secret of his -practice, while his position as the spiritual director of the -"Sisters of St. Mary" is notorious. How general is the custom of -confession in Trinity parish we have no means of knowing, nor do -we know how many of the assistant ministers follow in the wake of -their rector. We have heard of one or two others who are disposed -to be confessors, and there are probably many such ministers -whose names are not brought before the public. We cannot suppose -that any high-minded clergyman would be willing to hear -confessions in an under-hand or secret manner, and we must -believe that they who do so are not ashamed of it, nor unwilling -to have their practice made public. No offence is therefore -intended by the mention of names, and we will rest satisfied that -none is given. How many of the bishops favor auricular confession -does not appear. So far as we have heard, no one has openly -recommended it; but the Right Reverend Dr. Potter, of New York, -has allowed a manual to be dedicated to him, in which the -practice is strongly urged, and devotions for its use are -extracted from Catholic prayer-books. While he has rebuked the -Rev. Mr. Tyng for preaching in a Methodist church, he goes openly -to St. Alban's, and, to say the least, gives sanction to -Ritualistic performances. We have a right, then, to conclude that -he favors the confessional, and is willing to see it set up in -the churches which he superintends. It will be observed that this -confession in the Episcopal Church, is not simply consulting a -clergyman in a private conversation about spiritual matters, but -the humble acknowledgment of sins in detail, in order to receive -absolution from one who thinks himself authorized by Almighty God -to give it. It is certainly a sacrament in the true definition of -the term, an outward sign of an inward grace, administered by one -pretending, at least, to bear a commission from Christ. Those who -go to the Episcopalian ministers to confess their sins, surely go -under this belief, and no argument is necessary to show that they -would not go, unless under the conviction that their offences -against God could be forgiven in no other way. -{374} -The Ritualists have made of this a most important matter in their -devotional books, where can be found questions for examination of -conscience, tables of sins, and prayers to excite contrition and -improve the great gift of absolution. When, then, we speak of the -confessional in the Protestant Episcopal communion, we are not -drawing upon fancy, but touching upon a fact which must have an -important effect upon the body which it especially interests. - -2. The first remark we have to make upon this acknowledged fact -is almost a truism. It is, that auricular confession is not a -Protestant practice, but quite the contrary; and that they who -adopt it cut themselves off from all sympathy with the doctrines -of the reformation. We hardly need to prove that there is not one -Protestant church which approves of the custom of which we speak, -or believes that its ministers have the power to remit and retain -sin. If the Church of England be adduced against us, we have only -to point to the incontrovertible fact, that she declares that -penance is not a sacrament, and therefore conveys no inward -grace. The absolutions left in her daily services are only -declaratory of God's willingness to forgive the repentant sinner, -and could be as well used by a layman as by a minister. For who -cannot say that "God pardoneth and absolveth all who are truly -penitent"? And as for the absolution in the office of the -visitation of the sick, we have only to say that it is a relic of -by-gone days which is seldom used, and that whatever be its -meaning, it cannot, contrary to the article, be presumed to -confer grace. The English Church certainly did never consider it -a matter of any necessity, otherwise it would have said so. The -Episcopalians in the United States have not this form to refer -to; for the compilers of their liturgy have expunged it -altogether, at the same time that they omitted the Athanasian -creed. In the form of the ordination of priests, a substitute was -also provided for the old words, "Receive the Holy Ghost; whose -sins you shall remit, they are remitted unto them." The reason of -this substitution we leave the honest reader to imagine. We are -informed that very few of the bishops are willing to use the old -form, and an Episcopal minister of Puseyitical views once told us -that he was very anxious to have the bishop who ordained him use -it, but was restrained from asking this favor by the assurance of -one of the prelate's intimate friends that, if he said anything -about it, he would get a flat refusal, together with a good -scolding. While thus the articles of faith in the Episcopalian -body deny the power of absolution, the practice of that -denomination of Christians is entirely against it. The ministers -who hear confessions and the people who make them, live in a -"dreamland," about which once we read a very pretty piece of -poetry. This "dreamland" is not very extensive or tangible here, -and we wonder if now there are any somnambulists in or about -Buffalo. We yield the right to every man to do as he pleases, and -call himself what he likes, only we object to his having two -contradictory characters at the same time. It is not quite -reasonable; and we say, with the good common sense of mankind, -"My dear friend, choose for yourself, but please be either one -thing or the other." - -{375} - -But we go further, and assert that the practice of confession is -the assumption of a sacerdotal power which was the very first -point attacked by the reformation, and which is really the -central point of the Catholic system. Once admit the great power -of absolution, and you receive at the same time logically the -doctrine of priesthood as it is held by the Church. This doctrine -does not and cannot stand alone; it brings with it the church in -her unity, and the necessary safeguards which divine wisdom has -thrown around the exercise of so great a gift. Who has the power -to forgive sins? Not every man, nor every one who may choose to -call himself a priest. There must be some external call to so -high an office; and as it is Christ's priesthood which is -exercised, there must be some way of authenticating the power -delegated, and articulating it to the great head of Christianity. -The Catholic Church alone maintains the practice of confession, -and if she is good for this, she is good for everything. -Eclecticism may be advisable in matters of science, but in divine -revelation it is both absurd and impossible. The foundation of -faith is in the word of God. The church is no teacher if she be -not guided by supernatural light; and if she be thus guided, her -authority is universal. Episcopalians may believe that their -ministers can forgive their sins, but they have no reason for -such a belief. Their own church surely does not say so, while the -Catholic voice expressly denies it. It will be hard to see how -they can prove it from Scripture as applied to their particular -communion. Not only is the unity of the church connected -logically with the idea of priesthood, but also that of -sacrifice, and of sacramental grace. And these doctrines bring -with them the Tridentine system of justification, which is -diametrically opposed to the Lutheran theory which underlies all -consistent Protestantism. We do not believe that any one can go -to confession for any length of time, and not feel the truth of -these remarks. He will be irresistibly borne to the gates of the -Catholic Church with whose faith his religious life will be in -sympathy, and he will, day by day, lose his love and respect for -his own communion. - -3. So far, therefore, we have reason to rejoice in the adoption -of the confessional by the Episcopalians, and to renew our -prayers for their conversion to that truth which at a distance -proves so attractive to them. Yet there are dangers in regard to -which the sincere ought to be forewarned, and serious evils to -many souls may result from the incapacity of confessors who have -never been trained for this most delicate and difficult work. It -is in the spirit of Christian charity that we revert to these -dangers. - -In the first place, we hardly need say that no one but a duly -authorized priest of the Catholic Church has the power to give -absolution. As we are addressing chiefly those who believe in -some ecclesiastical system, we have only to advert to the fact, -that to such a power both orders and jurisdiction are necessary. -The Episcopal Church does not admit the existence of this power, -and the whole Christian world which does accept it, unites in the -opinion that the Episcopalian clergy have no orders whatever, any -more than the Methodists or Presbyterians. Any layman is as good -a priest as the most distinguished Anglican minister. Such is the -decision of the Catholic Church, and of every sect which has -retained the apostolical succession. Is this decision of no -consequence to the Ritualists who pretend to believe in authority -and antiquity? But orders are not sufficient for the exercise of -the power of absolution. -{376} -Jurisdiction is also required, because they who believe in the -priesthood must also believe that Christ has left this great -office in order, and not in confusion. The bishop is the supreme -pastor of his diocese, and no priest, without his permission, can -validly either hear confessions or give absolution. This -principle of jurisdiction is one which does not seem to penetrate -the heads of High-Church Episcopalians; but if they will reflect -for a moment, they will see its absolute necessity to the -existence of the church. Suppose that valid orders are alone -required to the exercise of the priesthood, and the communion of -the faithful, and what is to prevent any priest from going off at -any time, and carrying with him all the essentials of the church? -Then there would be as many churches as there are dissenting -priests. - -No intelligent man would form a society on such principles, and -surely our Lord Jesus Christ did not do so foolish a thing as -found a church containing in itself the very seeds of -self-destruction. We have heard that an excommunicated priest, -who bears, to his sorrow, the ineffaceable character of -priesthood, is willing to hear confessions since his apostasy. -But though he has valid orders, he is no more able to give -absolution than his associate ministers who have never been -ordained, because he has no jurisdiction from Christ. What do -these "Fathers" among the Episcopalians pretend? Do they ask -jurisdiction from their own bishops, who, having none, have none -to give? Or do they profess to have the whole Catholic Church in -their own persons? If so, history has seen nothing so strange in -all its curious record of ecclesiastical devices. - -It is then a sad thing for a man to confess his sins and go -through the humiliation of opening his whole life to another; and -then receive no pardon for the sins he so anxiously confesses. We -beg the attention of such earnest hearts to this point, and say -to them, "If you really wish to confess, why not go at once where -there is no doubt that Christ has left the power of forgiveness?" - -Secondly, there is danger in the way and manner in which we are -told that the Episcopalian ministers hear confessions. They -ought, for their own sake, and for the sake of their penitents, -to adopt the rules and safeguards which the experience of the -church has thrown around so important a work. It is not prudent -to hear the confessions of ladies in the minister's private room. -The presence of a plain cross, or crucifix, does not remove the -objection. It is too much of a burden to expect a lady to go -through with all this unnecessary trial, especially when she has -the additional conviction that she is doing something which she -would not wish the world to know, or which she would not be -willing to tell her husband or friends. The Catholic Church has -wisely provided that the priest shall sit where he need neither -see nor distinguish the penitent, and this is a safe rule to be -imitated. The same objection arises to the method, said to be in -vogue at St. Alban's, where the minister sits in the chancel, and -the penitent kneels at his back. If there be others in the -church, there is too much exposure, and if the church is locked, -there is too much privacy. The Episcopalian clergy who become -confessors ought to erect confessionals in their churches, and -sit there at given hours publicly and openly. - -{377} - -We understand, also, that in some cases, at least, the penitent -is obliged to write out his confession in full, and we consider -this a dangerous and far too painful practice. We have been -informed that Dr. Pusey wishes the general confessions which he -hears to be written out carefully and left with him for his -private study some days before the confession is made. We are -certain that such a course has been sometimes imitated in this -country, much to the disgust of ladies, who have even spoken to -us of it. A sinner will do much, no doubt, in the fervor of -penitence, but no such thing as this ought to be done. It is -against the practice of the Catholic Church, and in violation of -instinctive delicacy and propriety. No one is obliged to expose -himself, even to obtain the pardon of sin. - -Again, it is unfortunate for the Protestant clergy that they hear -confession only by reason of their _personal_ influence over -their penitents; that they do not understand the nature of the -seal of secrecy; and that they have no fixed system by which to -direct their penitents. The same results follow, as if a doctor -should essay to be a lawyer, or a blacksmith a dentist. - -Personal influence is, no doubt, an instrument of much good; but -when it alone or principally governs the relations of confessor -and penitent, serious dangers may be imminent. Most of those who -go to confession in the Episcopal Church are led to this step by -reason of their confidence in the individual to whom they go, and -through the attraction of his piety or zeal. They would hardly go -to any one else, and if he were to die or be removed, they would -be left without a director. It is not so much the priest to whom -they unburden their conscience, as the favorite preacher whose -good qualities have made strong impressions upon them. This is -not a healthy state of things, and leads to sentimentality, which -is often mistaken for piety. In the Catholic Church, the habit of -confession is as universal as prayer, and the priestly character -overshadows the individual. Among Protestants the contrary is -notoriously true, and this difficulty in the way of the -Protestant confessor can hardly be removed until he shall have -brought about in his communion the state of feeling which is -second nature to Catholics. This he can never do. He may lead -individuals to the church; he cannot convert the whole body with -which he is identified. - -With the best intentions in the world, he does not and cannot -understand the seal of secrecy which for ever closes the lips of -the priest. He is disposed as a man of honor not to betray -confidence, but experience teaches us that very few human secrets -have been kept. He has not been taught the sacred nature of his -obligation, nor the various ways by which he may expose his -penitent, and as he has assumed an office to which his church did -not call him, he stands or falls in human strength. No motive -higher than that of honor binds him, and complicated as he is -with the world, and generally with matrimonial relations, he -really does not know how to act. The Catholic priest not only is -bound by the fear of terrible sin, but is also aided by the -system which surrounds him, in which he is trained and by that -supernatural power which we know upholds the seven sacraments. He -is not an individual resting upon his unaided powers, but the -creature of his church, the agent and representative of a vast -power which girdles the Christian world. Years of study and -discipline have taught him the nature of his obligations, while -he himself is as much bound to confess his sins as to hear the -burden of other consciences. -{378} -What an anomaly, for a man who never confesses his own faults, to -undertake to listen to the accusations of others! If they need -the confessional, much more does he need it. Is it not -Pharisaical to bind burdens upon others, which we touch not with -one of our fingers? - -Let men say what they will, we believe, and from experience we -know, that God upholds the confessor in his difficult task; that -he gives him superhuman wisdom; that within the tribunal of -penance a divine shield is over him to protect him against the -weakness of humanity, that he may walk unharmed where otherwise -angels would fear to tread. Here we pity the poor and isolated -Ritualist, going forth upon a dangerous sea, in a frail bark, -with no trust but the strength of his own arm. Cast out by his -own church, and refusing communion with the great Catholic heart, -how long will he stand the fury of the storm? - -Finally, how shall he direct his penitents, and by what system -form their spiritual character? Moral theology is an extensive -and subtle science. The infallible church has given clear -decisions upon all essential points of fact and morals, and her -doctors, by years of patient labor and centuries of experience, -have matured the colossal system which has such mighty influence -over the religious heart. But what is all this to the Protestant -confessor? He cannot avail himself of this without confessing the -authority of the church; and if he begins with such a confession, -where must he conscientiously guide his penitents? If he deny -this authority, and by his own fallible wisdom choose the -principles of his morality, in what respect is his opinion worth -more than that of the humblest layman? Can there be a more -pitiable spectacle, than that of a Protestant minister with St. -Liguori as his guide in leading the souls of others? His -spiritual life is surely made up of contradictions which must vex -and perplex his conscience if he be an honest man. And will he -not unavoidably make grievous mistakes, in the use of tools -without experience, in the details of a work for which he has had -no preparation? - -Moreover, there are often decisions which have to be made, and in -these he must either be a despot, or he must make equivocal -answers. If a Catholic accuses himself of unbelief or doubt, the -reply is easy; for God's revelation is, according to our faith, -in and through an unerring church. If the Protestant falls into a -like danger, how shall he find direction, since for him there is -no infallible church? Must he not go on his weary way of -investigation, and is not, by his principles, doubt his normal -state? If a Catholic doubts the truth of any decision of his -church, he commits a sin against his own creed; but since the -Episcopal communion openly disclaims infallibility, how shall the -Episcopalian confessor tell his penitent not to doubt his church -which herself tells him he ought to doubt her? Then it comes to -this, that he will either make him no reply, or rule him with a -rod of iron, and bind him by his inflexible _ipse dixit_. -What has been the result, in more cases than one, of this -arbitrary despotism in the hands of individuals who neither by -their own church, nor by any other, have the right to direct -souls? Loss of the moral sense, failure to discern the first -inspirations of faith, and, sometimes, insanity. We draw from the -testimony of facts. It is bad enough to be under a civil despot, -but it is worse to be under a religious autocrat. -{379} -Then in the choice of penances we have heard of most frightful -mistakes, where the good of the penitent was in no way consulted, -but the vindication of the absolutism of the confessor. Think of -a penance to blood for one lie, or for the great error of -attending Mass in a Catholic Church. Think of penances which -cover months and burden years with the chains of obligatory -prayers and exercises. But all this is really nothing compared to -the morbid and unhealthy religious life which they engender, in -which slavish fear of God is the principal ingredient, where -sighs and solemn faces, instead of cheerfulness and natural -joyousness, are the exhibitions of their piety. To us, (and we -have had occasion to know the interior of more than one,) they -seem to be perpetually toiling up a steep ascent under the weight -of heavy burdens from which it would be wrong to expect relief. -Forced to confess their sins as if doing some stealthy action, -they kill in their souls the bright light and, elasticity of -spirit which the great Creator gave them. God is not a tyrant, -but a merciful and beneficent father, whose smiles of love are -ever around his children, and his priesthood are agents in the -work of love to bring into even the erring heart the sunlight of -a father's truth and mercy. The confessor is no minister of -justice, but like his Master, the good Samaritan to bind up the -wounds of the broken heart, to preach deliverance to the captive, -and joy to the mourner. - -In what we have said, we make no accusations against the good -intentions of these Protestant confessors, for whom we especially -pray. We believe that they mean well, and that they hope to -sanctify their people by borrowing fruit from the garden of the -church, and transplanting it where it cannot and will not grow. -And as their only friends--for in their own communion they have -few friends--we warn them of the risk they run, and of the -dangers to which they expose their penitents. It is a fearful -responsibility for them, for which they must answer alone, and in -which no church will shield them. Some will, through their -incapacity, lose their hold upon all religion, and either live -without hope or die without consolation. Others will shut their -eyes to the plainest deductions of reason, and having eyes, will -see not, having ears, will hear not. Many through divine grace, -and the honest heart which pursues principles to their legitimate -results, will find their way to that one faith where all things -are in harmony, where the aspirations of the soul are met with a -full answer, and the needs of the heart are filled from God's own -fulness. O children of men! how foolish it is to enter upon the -province of God, and by human hands to make a religion, when the -all-merciful Father, who alone knoweth our frame, has made one -for us, which in its completeness answereth to every want of our -being. - --------- - -{380} - - - Sketches Drawn From The Life Of St. Paula, - By The Abbe Lagrange, Vicar-general Of Orleans. - - In Three Chapters. - - - Chapter I. - -"If all the members of my body should be changed into as many -tongues, and should assume as many voices, I should still be -unable to say enough of the virtues of the saintly and venerable -Paula." - -It is in these words of pious enthusiasm that St. Jerome, himself -so holy a man, and accustomed to the guidance of so many noble -souls, begins his biography of Paula, when, at the instance of -her daughter, Eustochium, and to dry her tears, he undertook to -record her mother's virtues. - -Placing himself with awe in the presence of God and his angels, -St. Jerome says: "I call to witness our Lord Jesus Christ and his -saints, and the guardian angel of this incomparable woman, that -what I say is simple truth, and that my words are unworthy of -those virtues celebrated throughout the world, which have been -the admiration of the church, and which the poor yet weep for. -Noble by birth, more noble still by her holiness; powerful in her -opulence, but more illustrious afterward in the poverty of -Christ; of the race of the Scipios and of the Gracchi; heiress of -Paulus Emilius, from whom she takes her name of Paula; direct -descendant of that famous Martia Papyria, who was wife to the -conqueror of Perseus, and mother of the second Scipio Africanus; -she preferred Bethlehem to Rome, and the humble roof of a poor -dwelling to the gilded palaces of her ancestors." - -Paula was born in Rome, about the middle of the fourth century, -the 5th of May, of the year 347, in the reign of Constantius, and -of Constans, the sons of Constantine, seven years after the death -of the latter prince. Julius was then Pope at Rome. Paula -belonged, through her mother, Blesilla, to one of the most -ancient and illustrious families of Rome; and it seemed as if -Providence wished to unite all earthly distinctions in this -child, for the purest blood of Greece mingled in her veins with -the noblest blood of Rome. At this time nothing was more common -than alliances between the Roman and Greek families, as is proved -by the Greek names which we find in the Roman genealogies. The -father of Paula, Rogatus, was a Greek, and claimed royal descent -from the kings of Mycaenas; and Agamemnon himself is said to have -been his direct ancestor. - -St. Jerome gives no further detail of the family of Paula, -excepting that he mentions casually that their possessions were -vast, including very important estates in Greece near Actium, -besides their domain in Italy. "If," says St. Jerome, "I take -note of her opulence and wealth, it is not that I attach -importance to these temporal advantages, but in order to show -that the glory of Paula in my eyes was not in having possessed -them, but in having laid them at the feet of Jesus Christ." - -{381} - -A more real advantage of her birth was, that her noble family -were Christians, although a portion of them still remained -pagans. This intermingling of creeds must not surprise us; for -the resistance to conversion was great, and throughout the fourth -century it was a common thing to see worshippers of the true God -and of Jupiter under the same roof. - -Rome, in truth, presented then a great contrast. Christian Rome -and pagan Rome stood face to face, and pagan Rome, as yet -untouched by barbarians, still wore an imposing aspect. The -Capitol still stood in pride, crowned with the statues and -temples of the heathen gods. Opposite, on the Palatine, stood the -ancient dwelling of the Caesars, with its marble porticoes; and -at the foot of the two hills the old Forum surrounded with pagan -temples. Further still, and separated from the Forum by the -Sacred Way and the Amphitheatre of Flavius, rose the immense -Colosseum; and at the other extremity the great circus and the -aqueducts of Nero. On the borders of the Tiber was the mole of -Adrian, the mausoleum of Augustus, with temples, theatres, baths, -porticoes, etc., on every side; indeed, every monument of luxury -and superstition, showing how deeply rooted paganism still was in -the capital of the empire. - -Nevertheless, by more than one sign it was easy to recognize that -all this pagan grandeur was fast fading away before another -power; and if polytheism still found strong support in old -traditions and customs, institutions and monuments, it was the -influence of the past, which was lessening every day. The future -belonged to the church, and Christianity was daily gaining the -upper hand. The pagan temples which were still standing were -empty, the crowd now disdaining sacrifices. Silence and solitude -reigned around the gods, while the new faith, spreading out its -magnificence in broad daylight, covered Rome with superb -basilicas. At the same time, Rome, deserted by the emperors for -political reasons, which served the divine purpose, seemed given -up to the majesty of pontifical rule; and the popes, brought out -from the Catacombs and placed by Constantine in the imperial -palace, already gave a foreshadowing to the world of the glory -which should henceforth invest the Holy See. - -At this time there sprang from the bosom of the church a soul who -was destined to exercise a vast influence upon the religious -orders throughout the universe. - -The blood of the martyrs and early Christians had not been shed -in vain. It was just at this epoch in the history of Christianity -that Providence gave being to a child destined by her holiness to -be one of the marvels of the age. - -We have sufficient data to know what her education was and under -what influences she grew up to womanhood. The old Roman spirit -and the Christian spirit were both fitted to form a character of -the highest order. Austere honor, severe self-respect, noble -traditions of ancient customs, were early inculcated in the mind -of Paula. She came of a race of whom St. Jerome said: "Remember -that in your family a woman very rarely, if ever, contracts a -second marriage." Besides the holy books which were her first -studies, her reading was vast and extended, embracing both the -literature of Greece and Rome. We shall see how in after-life -this early culture developed in her the rich gifts of nature, -establishing equilibrium between her intellect and her character. - -{382} - -Paula was brought up by her mother with that ardent love for the -practice of her religion, which in all its perfection belonged -especially to the days when persecution made these observances -most precious to the early Christians. She followed Blesilla to -the basilicas and to all feasts of the church, and also to visit -the tombs of the martyrs and to the Catacombs. This last devotion -was peculiarly dear to the Christians of the fourth century. They -sought to glorify those victorious soldiers. "See," cried St. -Chrysostom, "the tomb of the martyrs! The emperor himself lays -down his crown there, and bends the knee." - -There was not, perhaps, a family of Christians in Rome, which did -not have some loved member among the glorious dead lying in the -long galleries of the Catacombs. Saint Jerome speaks of the pious -attraction of these sanctified asylums in the great city of the -martyrs. - -In this atmosphere of love for the church, and of faith in Christ -and in the divine origin of Christianity, young Paula grew up. It -was in those days the custom for the daughters of noble houses in -Rome to marry young; and when Paula was fifteen years of age, her -parents gave her in marriage to a young Greek whose name was -Toxotius. - -He belonged, on his mother's side, to the ancient family of the -Julians, which boasted, as we know, of going back to the time of -AEneas: - - "Julius, à magno dimissum nomen Iülo." - _Virgil's AEneid._ - -Toxotius did not have the faith of his bride. These mixed -marriages were not rare in those days; witness Monica and -Patricius, the parents of St. Augustine. - -Christianity had tolerated such marriages from the beginning, in -the hope that the infidel husband might be won by the wife to her -belief. When, robed in a white tunic of the finest wool, -according to custom, her brow covered with the _flammcum_, -Paula laid her trembling hand in that of Toxotius, who can tell -with what holy emotion, what elevation of thought, what purity of -feeling and of hope, her soul was filled! On the other hand, -Toxotius does not seem to have been unworthy of his Christian -bride, and the uncommon affection Paula bore him ever afterward, -her inconsolable grief for his loss, all proves that their -marriage was among those which the world calls happy. God blessed -this union. Four daughters were successively born to them. - -The eldest, called Blesilla after her grandmother, seemed gifted -with a vivacious and most interesting character; her health was -delicate, but her full, rich nature gave early promise of that -rare beauty of mind and soul, which developed perfectly in -after-years to the joy of Paula. - -Paulina, the second, had also a fine nature, but the very -opposite of Blesilla's. Her light was not like her sister's, a -shining flame; but with less brilliancy of wit, and less vivacity -of character, she possessed great good sense and solid judgment, -giving promise of being as strong in character as her sister was -brilliant. - -As for the third of these young girls, called by the graceful -name of Eustochium, borrowed from the Greek, and meaning -_rectitude_ or _rule_, she was a gentle child, modest, -reserved, timid. One would say she was like a flower hiding -within herself her own perfume; but this perfume was sweet, and -on a nearer view one could not avoid seeing in this young soul -all the treasures which would one day flower and bloom. It is -difficult to picture to ourselves Rufina. -{383} -She appears but once in the history of her mother, at the moment -of the departure of Paula for the east, sad, bathed in tears, and -yet silent and resigned; stamped, even in childhood, with that -painful charm which belongs particularly to those beings not -destined by providence to mature, but to fall away and die young. - -Paula's married life was passed in the midst of all the -magnificence which marked the decline and fall of the empire. She -passed through the streets of Rome, as did the other patrician -ladies, in a gilded litter, carried by slaves. She would have -feared to put her dainty feet on the earth, or to touch the mud -of the streets. The weight of a silk dress was almost too much -for one so sensitive to carry; and had a ray of sunshine intruded -into her litter, it would have seemed to her a _fire_. - - "_Et solis calor incendium,_" etc., etc. - _Epist. ad Pammachium_. - -In those days she used rouge and cereum, like other women of her -rank; she passed much of her time at the bath, which consumed so -great a part of life in Rome; she spent the winter, according to -usual custom, at Rome, and the summer in some villa in the -country, passing her time most agreeably between her books and a -chosen circle of friends. - -In the midst of all this luxury, leading a life far removed from -the virtues which she practised later, Paula was yet known and -respected as a woman of great dignity of character and -irreproachable conduct. And if, during these happy years, the -young wife of Toxotius did not always sufficiently bear in mind -the maxim of the apostle, which teaches us to use the things of -this world, without giving them our affections inordinately; if -she tasted too freely of its pleasures and dangerous vanities, in -the trials which she was soon to encounter, there was -compensation to be made for this self-indulgence, and, in her -austere penance, a super-abundant expiation. Saint Jerome tells -us that Paula had none of the barbaric arrogance common to the -Roman women--that which made them purse-proud, cruel to their -slaves, passionate, and impatient, which Juvenal describes so -admirably in his imperishable satires. In Paula all these bad -passions gave place to gentleness, softness, goodness. "This -wealthy daughter of the Scipios," says St. Jerome, "was the -gentlest and the most benevolent of women--to little children, to -plebeians, and with her own slaves. She possessed that excelling -goodness, without which noble birth and beauty are worthless, and -which is especially characteristic of a lofty nature. This -sweetness of mind, combined with her austere sense of honor, were -the two features of her soul which, by their contrast, made her -countenance most charming. - -It is easy to conceive how such a woman performed the delicate -social duties that devolved upon her. Her associations were of -two kinds. She was intimate with all the celebrated women in the -church, such as Manilla and Titiana; at the same time the pagan -relations of Toxotius all loved her, and she received them -frequently at her house, bearing in mind the duty of the -Christian woman to let them see her religion in such a light as -would lead them to respect and honor it. And so it was that, by -her fireside, Paula was the happiest of wives and of mothers. Her -young family grew up joyously around her, filling her with bright -hopes for the future. - -She had long wished to give her husband a son and heir. Her -prayer was answered; and she gave birth to a son, her last child, -who received the name of Toxotius, after his father. - -{384} - -This is all that history tells us of the first phase in the life -of Paula. We see her thus with every happiness at once, "the -pride," says St. Jerome, "of her husband, of her family, and of -all Rome." - -We know no more of her life up to the age of thirty. The Paula of -history, the saint whom God was to give as an example to souls, -is not the woman of the world, nor the happy woman; she is the -woman struck as if by lightning, blasted in her happiness; and -from this trial rising up generously, and by a great flight -soaring far above common virtues and the ordinary condition of -pious souls, up to those heroic acts which only emanate from -great sorrows. It would seem as if God had been pleased to -accumulate upon her, for thirty years, all the felicity of -earth--to adorn, as it were, this victim of his love, and to make -us comprehend the better by the subsequent destruction of this, -how vain is earthly happiness. - -It is here that the historian takes hold of Paula, and that the -veil is lifted from her. Now begins her true history, the history -of her soul. - -Paula was only thirty-one years of age when Toxotius died and she -became a widow. The blow to her was terrible. In the first -moments of her grief she was completely stunned and powerless. It -was feared by her friends that she would not long survive the -shock. Nothing could stop her tears. She could not be comforted. -From day to day the void was growing deeper and deeper into her -heart. - -There is a decisive turning-point in the life of every one, on -which the future depends. This moment had now come for Paula. Two -ways lay open before her--the world on one side, God on the -other. She determined, in her sorrow, to give up the world, to -lead for ever afterward the life of a Christian widow, and to -seek for consolation in this resolution. - -After the first outburst of grief, when she came to herself, her -decision was irrevocably made. Human things were never more to -regain the hold they had had over her up till now. She understood -what God wanted of her; namely, "to accept the sacrifice and -change her whole life." So, as St. Francis de Sales tells us, -"the heart of a widow who could not give herself all to God -during the lifetime of her husband, flies in search of celestial -perfumes, when he has been taken from her." - -Paula was surrounded with many noble examples. Marcella lived in -her palace on Mount Aventine, where she had gathered together a -band of widows and virgins from amongst the noblest families of -Rome, who gave great edification by their virtue and charity. How -and for what purpose had Providence permitted this community to -be formed, which gave such an impetus to the religious life? It -is necessary that we should answer in some detail, for this is -the key to the whole life of Paula. - -The church, resting from the earlier persecutions, which inflamed -zeal and devotion, was now in great peril from the growing -influence of security and wealth, in spreading a pagan and Roman -love of indolence and indifference. The empire was declining, and -its moral fall was hastened by political troubles. The degenerate -Romans consoled themselves for their abasement, by the melancholy -enjoyments of luxury and vice. Luxury and debauchery were already -creeping into the Christian lines, thus attacking the most vital -parts of the church. False widows and virgins no longer scrupled -to show light conduct beneath the veil. -{385} -There must be a remedy found equal to the evil. God failed not to -bring succor to his church, and the spirit of holiness became all -the more manifest in her faithful children, in proportion as the -peril was great. - -The reaction commenced in the east, with the great monastic -foundations, which rose up in opposition to the world, performing -prodigies in the way of austerities and moral improvement. At -Rome, strange to say, the reform began where it was least to have -been expected, namely, in the midst of the patricians. The signal -was given by women. They threw themselves with ardor into the -heroic path, and soon their husbands followed them. This -regeneration was one of the most memorable in history, as well as -in the annals of the church. It was started by St. Athanasius, -who brought it with him from the east. Thrice exiled by Arian -persecution, the great patriarch three times sought refuge in -Rome. He had brought with him the revelation of the wonders -realized by the fathers in the deserts of Egypt and on the banks -of the Nile. His biography of the great Anthony took hold of -every imagination, and gave new zeal to monastic life. Athanasius -had passed seven years in the Theban deserts; he had known -Anthony, Ricomius, and Hilarius, and told of the astounding -graces of their supernatural life. - -In one of these journeys of Athanasius to Rome, a noble Christian -widow, named Albina, had the honor of receiving him as her guest. -Albina had a daughter, Marcella, on whose noble soul the -conversation of the great bishop made an extraordinary -impression. Seated at his feet, the young girl drank in every -word that fell from his lips. Some months after, out of deference -to her mother's wishes, Marcella consented to marry; but when, at -the end of seven months, she became a widow and was free, she -made up her mind never to contract a second marriage, but to -devote herself in Rome to the humble imitation of those virtues -which Athanasius had taught her to venerate and admire. -Nevertheless, her youth, her wit and great beauty drew around her -many admirers. Amongst others was Cerealio, of high birth and -large fortune. "I will be more her father than her husband," said -he to Albina, who greatly desired the marriage, "I will leave her -all my wealth, being already advanced in years." But Marcella was -inflexible. "If I wished to marry again," said she to her mother, -"I would marry a husband, and not an inheritance." - -Cerealio was refused, and this discouraged all other suitors. - -Marcella now gave up the world and made a desert of her -magnificent palace. There she lived austerely, doing good works. -She bid farewell to jewels, and even laid aside the seal ring -always worn by the patrician women; and rising above their -prejudice against the religious state, and particularly the -coarse garb of the monks, she was the first who dared to assume -the abased dress, and publicly imitated what St. Athanasius had -taught her to believe good in the sight of God. The example soon -became contagious, giving her many followers, who astonished Rome -by their austerities and penances. - -There was also at Rome, at this time, a young patrician lady -whose name was Melanie. Suddenly, when only twenty-two, she lost -her husband and two children, and laid them in one tomb on the -same day. Accepting this dispensation of the divine will, Melanie -resolved to devote her whole life to the shining virtues of which -Marcella was so bright an example. -{386} -To increase her faith further, she started on a pious pilgrimage -to the east, where Athanasius still lived. She saw him at -Alexandria shortly before his death. After having visited the -monasteries of Egypt and the Holy Land, Melanie was unwilling to -return to Rome and its corruptions. She therefore founded for -herself a monastery on the Mount of Olives, where she lived an -austere and good life. - -This example still further inflamed the souls of the Roman women, -and numberless were those now in search of perfection; some -remaining at home in their own houses, like the virgins and -widows of the first centuries; others preferring to congregate -together, and, without any fixed rule, make the trial of -community life. The centre of all this movement was Marcella, who -possessed in an extraordinary degree the power of attracting -others to her. She was truly the standard-bearer of this noble -band, of whose hearts grace had taken possession. The venerable -Albina was like the revered ancestress of the little community -formed on Mount Aventine. The most prominent of those who joined -Marcella were Sophronia, Felicitas, and Marcellina. The latter -was daughter of an ancient governor of the Gauls. Outside of -Marcella's house, the names best known among those who had -devoted themselves to a life of austerity and virtue, were Lea, a -holy widow whom the church has canonized; the admirable Asella, -and Fabiola, who was of the ancient family of Fabius. All this -movement toward religious life was greatly encouraged by the -pious pontiff who then filled St. Peter's chair. At the time -Paula became a widow. Pope Damasus was nearly seventy-five years -of age. He was one of the noblest of the early popes, and one of -those who did most for Christianity and for the development of -Christian piety. He had a sister named Irene, who, consecrating -herself to God, died at the age of twenty, in honor of whom he -composed a most touching epitaph. - -Such was the group of souls and the array of virtue which Paula -had around her, and which attracted her, when she became a widow, -to seek a more perfect life. - -In the words of St. Jerome, Marcella, like an incendiary, blew -upon these lighted cinders and set them in a blaze. She found -words to bid those eyes, so dimmed by tears, to turn to heaven; -and she urged that bruised spirit to rise up and seek God. All -this Marcella did with a sister's tenderness. Her solicitude -extended to the children of her friend, and she begged that -Eustochium, who already showed a predilection for the religious -life, might be confided to her care. Paula acceded to this wish -with joy, keeping with her Blesilla, Paulina, Rufina, and -Toxotius. Then she began with ardor and faith the new life she -had marked out for herself, and she soon outshone all others in -virtue. There was a sudden and admirable expansion of greatness -in her soul. With her this rupture with the world was but a -higher flight toward God. - -Her first step in advance was a new and great love of prayer; for -so it is, that the more the heart is closed to earth, the more it -opens to heaven. Her love of God and of celestial things grew -stronger each day. She lived most austerely, practising every -Christian mortification. All the habits of luxury of other days -were thrown aside, and the very comforts of life diminished. She -slept on the bare floor, and rivalled in abstinence and fast the -ascetics of the desert. She often wept over the thought of the -self-indulgence of her former worldly life. -{387} -These tears, together with those which she shed for her husband, -Toxotius, flowed so constantly and so abundantly, that her eyes -were injured, and her sight endangered. Paula was the pale one, -pale with fasting and almost blinded by tears. - -Paula's heart was inflamed with charity. She found in the poor -another outlet of love for an ardent nature; and as she surpassed -Marcella and all others in austerities, so she also surpassed -them in charities. All her income was given in alms, and "never," -says St. Jerome, "did a beggar come away from her empty-handed." - -It was now two years since Paula had lived in this holy way, when -great news reached the little community of Aventine. In 382, Pope -Damasus called to Rome the Catholic bishops in council, and many -venerable bishops were expected there from the east. The object -of the council was to decide several questions of faith, as well -as to put an end to the long pending schism of Antioch. A few -bishops only answered the call of the Roman pontiff, the greater -part excusing themselves in a letter which is celebrated in -ecclesiastical history. Among those who came were Paulinus, one -of the bishops of Antioch, and St. Epiphanius, Bishop of Salamina -in the island of Cyprus. - -It is easy to imagine the emotion produced among these recluses -by the arrival in Rome of such personages as these holy bishops, -who came from the mysterious east where the Catholic faith had -been cradled. They had seen Jerusalem and the Holy Land; they -knew the fathers of the desert, whose fame filled the world. What -lessons of wisdom would they not be able to gather from such -visitors! - -Paula obtained from Pope Damasus the honor of having St. -Epiphanius as her guest, and it was in her daily interviews with -him, as well as with Paulinus, that the desire to see the east, -which she was one day to realize, first sprung up in her mind. - -History has preserved few details of this council of the year -382. The great work to be brought about by these eastern bishops -at Rome was the new impetus which their presence was to give to -religion among the Christians of Rome already in the way of life -and truth. There came from the east, in company with the holy -bishops, a man destined to exercise great influence over the -future life of Paula and her friends. This man was St. Jerome. We -must pause a moment and not pass by one who is perhaps the most -striking, the most original, and the grandest figure of the -fourth century. He stands alone in his strength--different from -St. Hilarius of Poitiers, the profound theologian; from Ambrose, -the sweet orator; from Augustine, the great philosopher, or -Paulinus, the Christian poet. His features are marked and stern, -his character is austere and ardent; the burning reflection from -an eastern sky rests upon him; he is laden with the learning of -the Christian and the pagan world; the indefatigable athlete of -the church, he whose powerful voice moved the old world when they -listened to his pathetic lament over the fall of Rome, and which -moves us still when we read it now after the lapse of centuries! - -Such was Jerome; yet is this picture incomplete, for we have not -mentioned his special gift for the direction of souls. He was -their guide, their father. He it was who began this divine -guidance, entrusted afterward to St. Bernard, and by him to St. -Francis de Sales, from St. Francis de Sales to Bossuet and -Fénélon, and so on down to our own times. It is this special gift -which gives him so prominent a part in the history of Paula. - -{388} - -Pope Damasus wished to detain him in Rome after the departure of -the bishops for the east, in order that Jerome should expound the -holy Scriptures and give answers to those who came to Rome from -all parts of the globe for explanations of the dogmas and -discipline of the church. A great friendship had sprung up -between the sovereign pontiff and St. Jerome. The study of the -holy Scriptures bound their affections together. "I know of -nothing better," wrote the holy father to him in one of his -letters, "than our conversations about Scripture; that is to say, -when I ask questions, and you answer; and I say like the prophet, -that your voice is sweeter to my heart than honey to my lips." - -After the departure of Epiphanius and Paulinus, Marcella and -Paula sought for Jerome and entreated him to explain the -Scriptures to them at Mount Aventine. The austere monk resisted -them long, but at last yielded, and crowds came to hear him. He -would read the text, and then make his comments. The listeners -were captivated by his eloquence, and his language was peculiarly -strong, clear, and forcible. His monk's attire, his cheeks, -sunken by penance and browned by the eastern sun, and his deep -voice, all combined to throw a strange spell over his hearers. - -He, too, soon discovered that he spoke to noble souls, and thus -was his abiding interest awakened by his own delight in opening -such treasures to those so capable of appreciating them. - -Such was the ardor of Paula and her friends in studying the -Scriptures, that Jerome was in admiration at their labor and -perseverance; and it excited him to further efforts, and made him -feel the necessity of undertaking a complete translation of the -entire Bible, which, indeed, was the work of his life from that -time afterward, without remission; being begun on Mount Aventine, -among his favorite disciples, and only ending many years later, -with his life. Jerome now undertook the spiritual direction of -Paula, Marcella, Asella, and their friends. Many of his letters -to them have been preserved, a monument of this wonderful -direction. He wrote to them unceasingly, and what remains to us -of this vast correspondence suffices to show the noble light in -which he viewed Christian duty. Their moral elevation is -marvellous, and when from theory he came to practice, he seemed -to trample under foot all human weakness and to expect from these -high-born and gently nurtured patricians the abstinence and -fasting of the Anchorites of the Theban deserts. - -This direction of St. Jerome wrought wonders in the soul of -Paula. She daily grew in grace, and became a still more noble -example of austerity, of prayer, of abundant charities, and good -works, and of the fruitful study of the Scriptures. - -"What shall I say of the worldly goods of this noble lady, almost -entirely spent on the poor?" exclaims St. Jerome. "What shall I -say of her universal charity, which made her love and succor -beings she had never even seen? What sick person was not nursed -by her? She sought the afflicted throughout the great city, and -ever thought she had met with a loss if the sick or the hungry -had already found assistance before hers." - -{389} - -This is what the love of Christ brought about in imperial and -corrupt Rome when, for the first time, such Christian heroism -burst forth from the midst of the patricians, their admirable and -pious daughter shedding new lustre upon those glorious old pagan -families. - - - To Be Continued. - ----------------- - - Bound With Paul. - - -The warden's wife followed her husband down the steps leading to -the prison. "'_O caro Duca mio_,' is there an inscription -over the door?" she asked; "for I have brought hope with me, and -will not let it go." - -Not having anything to say, the warden kept silent. He was used -to his wife's fanciful ways of speaking, and liked to hear her -pleasant voice, though her meaning might escape him. For -education had emphasized the difference which nature had -pronounced between these two--a difference which William Blake -has defined in a word: the man looked _with_ his eyes, the -woman looked _through_ hers. - -Besides, the warden's attention was at the moment fully occupied. -The prison-bell had rung the second time, and the convicts had -finished their day's work. Mr. and Mrs. Raynor stood just within -the great entrance of the prison, and watched the sluggish -streams of crime that oozed from the doors of the different -shops, joined in the yard, and crept toward them--an Acheron, in -which human faces presently became visible; but faces bleached, -unwholesome, and expressionless. Perhaps their souls had been -scorched up in the baleful flames that had wafted these men -hither, or mesmerized in the leaden to-and-fro of their lives. -Or, more likely, retired to some secret recess of the brain, -their restless wits might be working out new designs of evil. An -occasional spark in some sidelong eye favored the latter guess. - -"Now for explanation," the warden said, keeping a strict eye on -the advancing line, yet aware of a hand stealing toward his arm. -"Be careful, dear! my revolver is on that side. Your man will go -into the furthest cell in the first ward. His name is Dougherty; -his nationality, of course, a mystery. He was sentenced ten years -for assault and highway robbery, and has now but two months to -stay. Excepting this one affair, he has always borne a good name, -and there couldn't be a better prisoner. He might have been -pardoned out long ago if he had tried, but he never asks favors. -When he came here, his only brother, a decent fellow, went to -California. He couldn't stand the disgrace. But he writes once a -month, a very good letter, too; and when the ten years shall be -up, will come or send for his brother. They say that Dougherty -behaved very well by him when he went away, and gave him all his, -Dougherty's, money. I shouldn't wonder. The fellow has the -strongest sense of duty I ever knew in a man. That's what is the -matter with him now. He told the deputy yesterday that he should -never go to chapel again. He had before been in doubt about it, -he said; but when the chaplain praised Martin Luther, and called -the church some ugly name or other, then he -knew that it was a sin for him to listen. -{390} -I don't want to punish the man; but, of course, he must go to -chapel. I can't make exceptions; and half a dozen of the worst -rascals here have some way got wind of the affair, and have all -at once experienced theology. That tall, heavy fellow, who -murdered his mother and his brother, and then set fire to the -house and burnt their bodies up, had his feelings badly hurt when -the chaplain said something sarcastic of the pope's great toe. -But Dougherty is honest, and if he will submit, I can easily -bring the others down. If he should hold out, there will be -trouble; for they will do for deviltry what he will do for -conscience' sake. If you can talk him over, I shall be glad; but -I haven't much hope of it. He is not a man likely to be -influenced by a woman's soft words. He is granite." - -The wife smiled saucily. "I have seen a silly little pink cloud -make a granite boulder blush as though it had blood in it," she -said. - -At this moment the file of convicts reached the portal, and came -winding through in the slow lock-step, separated noiselessly into -detachments, a part moving toward the lower cells, the rest -climbing the narrow flight of stairs leading to the upper tiers. -The faces of the men caught an additional pallor from the cold, -whitewashed stone of the prison, and a darker shade as, one by -one, they disappeared into the cells, the doors clapping to in -rapid succession behind them, like the leaves of a book run over -in the fingers. In a few minutes the whole line had crumbled -away, and there were visible but the three tiers of iron doors, -each door with a hand thrust through the bars, and a dim face -behind them. Mrs. Raynor glanced up the block to the last cell. -The hand she saw there had a character of its own. The fingers -were not half closed, listlessly waiting to be seen, but firm and -straight, and the thumb was clasped tightly around the bar -against which it rested--a dogged hand. "You think that the -dungeon would have no effect?" she asked. - -The warden repeated the word "dungeon" with a circumflex -calculated to give the impression that the apartment in question -was vaulted. "I doubt if even the strings will break him," he -said. "You take a Catholic Irishman born in Ireland, and you -can't hammer nor melt him into anything but a Catholic. He may -lie as fast as a dog can trot, and steal your eye-teeth from -under your eyes; but if you cut him into inch pieces, as long as -he has a thumb and finger left, he will make the sign of the -cross with them. You are losing courage, little woman." - -"No!" - -"Well, good luck to you! I'm going off." - -The lady walked up the ward, nodding to the convicts who pressed -eagerly for recognition, stopping to speak to those who had -requests to make, and, pausing at a little distance from the -upper cell, looked attentively at its occupant, herself unseen by -him. - -The warden had well compared this man to granite. He was tall, -thick-set, as straight as a post, had the broad, combative Irish -head, crowned with a luxuriance of dark-brown hair, and square -jaws that promised a tenacious grip on whatever he might set his -mental teeth in. But the face was honest, though hard, and the -straight mouth did not look as though giving to lying or -blasphemy, but had something solemn in its closing. The -well-shaped nose was as notable for spirit as the mouth for -firmness, and the blue-grey eyes were steady, not bright, and -rather small. -{391} -Altogether, a man of whom one might say that, if he was not so -good, he would not have been so bad. - -This convict sat on a bench in the middle of his little -whitewashed cell, and appeared to be lost in thought. But in his -attitude there was none of that easy drooping which usually -accompanies such abstraction. He sat perfectly upright and rigid, -the only perceptible motion a quick one of the eyelids, the eyes -fixed--locked, rather than lost in thought. - -He rose immediately on seeing who his visitor was, bowed with a -soldierly stiffness that was not without state, and waited for -her to speak. - -After a few pleasant inquiries, civilly answered, she told her -errand. It was not so easy as she had expected; but she spoke -kindly and earnestly, urging the necessity for discipline in such -a place, and the unwillingness of the warden to inflict any -punishment on him. "I have no doubt of your sincerity," she -concluded, "though the others mean only mischief. But the -decision must be the same in both cases." - -He listened attentively to every word she said, then replied with -quiet firmness, "I am sorry, ma'am, that there is going to be any -trouble about it. But it would be a sin for me to go and hear -Protestantism called the church of God, when it is no more a -church than a barnacle is a ship." - -"That is not the question," she persisted. "Admitting that what -the chaplain says may be false, I still say that you ought to go. -You are here in a state of servitude; you have no will of your -own; your duty is obedience to the rules of the place; and the -more difficult that duty, the more your merit. If you should -listen with pleasure, or even with toleration, while your faith -is attacked, that might be sin; but the listening unwillingly and -with pain you can offer to God as a penance in expiation of the -crime which obliges you to perform it. I am speaking now as a -Catholic would. I believe that your priest would say the same." - -She paused to note the effect of her words; but his face was -unmoved. - -"I have a dear friend who is a Catholic," she added. "For her -sake I should be sorry to have you punished for such a cause." - -This plea made no impression whatever. Plainly, the man was not -soft-hearted, nor susceptible to flattery. He merely listened, -and appeared to be gravely considering the subject. - -"To yield would be humility; to refuse would be pride," she said. -"You need not listen while in the chapel; you can think your own -thoughts and say your own prayers." - -As he still pondered, she again went over her argument, enlarging -and dwelling on it till it reached his comprehension. He listened -as before, but made no sign of approval nor dissent. Either from -nature or habit, it seemed hard for the man to get his mouth -open. But at length he spoke. - -"You were right, ma'am, in telling me that my duty here is -obedience," he said; "but you left out one condition--obedience -in all that is not sin. If the warden should tell me to kill a -man, it would not be my duty to obey. I do obey in all that is -not sin. It would be a sin for me to go to chapel." - -He spoke respectfully, but with decision; and the lady perceived -that their argument had reached a knot which only the hand of -authority could cut. She sighed, and abandoned her attempt. - -{392} - -Could she abandon it? Remembering the dungeon and the strings, -her heart strengthened itself for one more effort. She had begun -by marching straight up to the subject, challenging opposition; -it might be better to approach circuitously. "Let me undermine -him," she thought; and, turning away, as though leaving the -captive to silence and loneliness again, let the sense of -returning desolation catch him for an instant, then hesitated, -and glanced backward. It was a good beginning; he was looking -after her. The sight of a friendly face, the sound of a friendly -voice, and liberty to speak, were unfrequent boons in that place, -and too precious to be willingly relinquished, - -"The days must seem long to you," she said. - -She came nearer, and leaned against the door. "Yes, they are -long; but I thank God for every one of them. My coming here was -the best thing that ever happened to me. I was getting to be -drunkard, and this put a stop to it." - -As he spoke, he lifted his face and looked out at the strip of -sky visible through the window across the corridor, and his eyes -began to kindle. - -"Have you a family?" the lady asked. - -He waited a moment before answering, seemed to break some link of -thought that had a bright fracture, and his expression underwent -a slight but decided change. A light in it that had been lofty -softened to a light that was tender, as at her question he looked -down again. "There's Larry," he said. - -"And who is Larry?" - -The convict stared with astonishment at her ignorance. And, -indeed, Mrs. Raynor was the only person about the prison who had -not heard the name of this Larry. "He is my step-brother, ma'am," -he replied. "We had but the one father; but he had his own -mother. When she died, there were two of us left, and I took the -lad and brought him to this country. He was five years old then, -and I was twenty. I was a stone-cutter, and thought to do better -here; and, faith, one way I have, and another way I haven't. -Shame never touched one of us at home." - -"Who took care of the child?" Mrs. Raynor asked. - -"Myself, ma'am. He ate and slept with me, and I took him on my -arm as often as I put my hat on. He had his little chair on the -table in my shop, or he played about at the end of a long string. -For the lad was venturesome, and I never trusted him but with a -tether." - -"He must have been a great care," she said. - -"Have you any children, ma'am?" the convict asked. - -"No." - -"I thought that," he said dryly; then smiled. "Larry was like a -picture. He had red cheeks and black eyes, and his hair was like -gold with a shadow on it. It used to take me half an hour every -morning to make his curls, and they reached to his waist. -Everybody noticed the child, and they'd turn to look after him in -the street. One of the richest ladies in the city wanted to take -him for her own, and me to promise never to see him again; and -when she told what she would do for him, I thought that perhaps I -ought to let him go. The lady coaxed him, and gave him -picture-books and candy, and then asked him if he'd go and live -with her; and faith, ma'am, my heart didn't get such a scalding -when Mary asked her promise back, and said she liked Larry best, -as it did when that child went to the lady's knee and said he -would go and live with her. God forgive me, but I hated her that -minute. Well, I told her that I would think about it, and let her -know the next day. -{393} -That night I dreamed that she had him, and that I saw him far off -at play, dressed in jewels, and his little frock like a fall of -snow. I dreamed that I couldn't speak to him, and that set me -crying; and I cried so that I waked myself up. I put my hand out -for the child, but I couldn't find him. He was a restless little -fellow, and had crawled down to the foot of the bed. For a minute -I thought that the dream was true; and then I knew that I -couldn't let him go. I waked him up, and asked him if he'd stay -and live for ever with his brother John; and I was a happy man -when he put his little arms round my neck and said yes, he would. -And I made a promise to the child that night, while he was asleep -in my arms, that, since I kept him back from being a rich man, -whatever he might ask of me in all his life, if it was my heart's -blood, he should have it! And, ma'am, I've kept my promise." - -The tenderness with which he spoke of his brother invested the -convict's manner with the softening grace which it so much -needed, and grew upon his rough nature like a gentian upon its -rock. - -"This brother is in California?" Mrs. Raynor asked. - -The convict dropped his eyes. "He and Mary went there when I came -here," he said. - -"Who is Mary?" - -"Mary is Larry's wife," was the brief reply. - -"You hear from them?" - -"Oh! yes," he said eagerly. "They write to me every month. In his -last letter Larry said that he was coming after me at the end of -my term; but I sent him word not to. I can go alone, and he will -send me the money." - -The man seemed to have a jealous suspicion of her thought that he -had been cruelly deserted. "I told them to go," he said with a -touch of pride; "and I shall go and live with them when I get out -of this. They wouldn't hear to my going anywhere else." - -He broke off, glanced through the window, and said, as if -involuntarily, "There's the west wind!" then drew back, rather -ashamed when the lady looked to find what he meant. "You see, -ma'am, we don't have much to think of here, and there's only the -sight of stone and iron, and that bit of sky. Three years ago -there wasn't a glimpse of green; but two years ago I began to -catch a flit of leaves when the west wind blew. Last summer I -could see a green tip of a bough all the time, and now in the -high March wind I can see a bit of a twig." - -"It is an elm-tree," the warden's wife said; "and the branches -are longest on this side. I think they stretch out for you to -see. You miss many a pleasant sight here, Dougherty." - -"What I miss is nothing to what I have seen," he said quickly, -his eyes beginning again to kindle. - -"What do you mean?" - -He gazed at her searchingly for a moment, as if to read whether -she were worthy to hear; then he looked up at the sky. - -Mrs. Raynor tried not to be impressed. "He is a thief, serving -out his sentence in the State prison," she repeated mentally. "He -is a poor, ignorant Irishman, who can scarcely spell his own -name, and who reverences a polysyllable next to the priest." - -"I will tell you," he said after a moment, his voice trembling -slightly, not with weakness, but with fervor. "When I first came -here, I had to pray all the time to keep myself from going crazy; -but by and by I got reconciled. -{394} -You know we never have a priest here, and must find things out as -well as we can for ourselves. All I wanted to know was whether -God was angry with me. Sometimes I thought he was; but that might -be a temptation of the devil. What I am going to tell you -happened about six months ago, at nine o'clock in the evening. -The night-watch was in, and had just gone round. He spoke to me, -and I answered him. I was in bed, and I shut my eyes as soon as -he went back to his place. Something made me open them again, and -I saw on the wall of my cell here a little spot like moonlight. -It grew larger while I looked, and the whole cell was full of the -light of it; and it trembled like the flame of a candle in the -wind. There didn't seem to be any wall here; it was all opened -out. I pulled the blanket about me and went down to my knees on -the stone floor. I don't know how long it was before two faces -began to show in the midst of the light; and when they came, it -was still. At first they were faint; but they grew brighter till -they were as bright as I could bear. I couldn't tell whether it -was the brightness in their faces or the thought in my heart, -that brought the tears into my eyes. There was the Blessed Virgin -with the Infant Jesus in her arms, and they both looking at me -and smiling. And while they smiled, they faded away!" - -"How probable that would sound if it were related as having -happened in the year of our Lord 62, instead of 1862!" the lady -thought, restraining a smile, awed by the perfect conviction of -the speaker. - -"Dougherty," she said, "a man like you ought not to be caught at -highway robbery. How did it happen?" - -Some swift emotion passed over his face; but whether of fear or -anger she could not tell. The next moment he smiled grimly. "I -know just how it happened, ma'am," he said; "for didn't the -lawyers tell me? Oh! but they told the whole story so plain you'd -have thought they did the deed themselves; and faith, they made -me almost believe I did it. It is a very convincing way that the -lawyers have about them. They made out that Mike Murray was at -our house one night, and we all played cards and got drunk -together; and when we were pretty high, that Larry and I went out -with Mike to see him home; and that I sent Larry back, he being -too drunk to go on; and that I waited upon Mike out to a piece of -woods, and there I knocked him down and robbed him; and that he -was picked up half-dead the next morning, and I was caught -throwing the money away. They proved that I only did it because I -was drunk, and that I never did a dishonest deed before; and so -they sent me here for ten years. And the pity it was of poor Mike -Murray! It would have brought tears to your eyes to hear that -lawyer go on about him, as if Mike was his own father's son, and -a saint to the bargain, instead of a dirty, drunken blackguard -that Mary was mad to see in the house, and that beat his own wife -with a stool, and kicked her down-stairs every morning; and -that's the way she used to get down. She told our Mary that she -was never without a sore spot on her head, and that when she got -to the top of a flight of stairs, if it was in the church itself, -she'd look behind for the kick that Mike always had for her. -Indeed, ma'am, while the lawyer was talking, I didn't believe he -meant the Mike Murray I knew at all, but a sweet, gentle creature -with the same name, and that never took a sup of anything but -milk. And that's the story of my coming here, ma'am," the convict -concluded, giving a short laugh. - -{395} - -"You have had troubles enough," Mrs. Raynor said gently; "but now -they are nearly over. Only two months longer, and you will be -free. It won't hurt you to go to chapel for that short time." - -"I shall not go," he replied. - -She turned away at that, went into the deserted prison-yard, and -stood there a moment recollecting a sermon she had heard not long -before. "Why should we not now have a saint after the grand old -way?" the speaker had asked. - -"There is every reason why we should not!" she exclaimed -impatiently. "Those _bizarre_, uncompromising virtues of the -antique time would now scandalize the very elect. We must not -offend against _les bienséances_, though all the saints -should clap their hands. This poor Irishman is unquestionably a -little wrong in his head, and will have to go to the dungeon. For -you, Madge Raynor, you had best return to your _moutons_, -and cease pulling at the skirts of the millennium. What a -quixotic little body you are, to be sure!" - -To the dungeon, accordingly, Dougherty was sent the next Sunday -and after a few hours, the warden's wife went to see him. - -A door of solid iron opened in the basement wall of the prison, -and let the light into a stone vestibule that was otherwise -perfectly dark. Opposite this entrance was what looked like an -oven or furnace-door, about two feet square, and also of solid -iron. Removing a padlock from the inner door, the guard opened -it, and called Dougherty. - -Mrs. Raynor started back as the foul air from the dungeon struck -her face; for, though there was an aperture artfully contrived so -as to admit a little air and exclude all light, it was not large -enough to do more than keep the prisoner from actual suffocation. - -"You are acting like a simpleton!" the lady exclaimed when the -convict's pale face appeared at the opening. "Go to chapel next -Sunday, and say your prayers under the parson's nose. I will give -you beads that shall rattle like hail-stones." - -"I thank you, ma'am!" the man replied in his provokingly quiet -way; "but I can't go to chapel." - -"You expect to enjoy staying here three days, with bread and -water once a day, sitting and sleeping on bare stones, and -breathing air that would sicken a dog?" she demanded angrily. - -"That is nothing to what my Lord suffered for me," was the reply. - -"You fancy yourself a martyr, and that the officers of the prison -are children of the devil!" she said. - -"I don't blame them," he answered. "They do what they think is -right." - -"Shut him up!" she exclaimed, turning away. "It's a pity we -haven't a rack for the blockhead. He is pining for it." - -Dougherty did not complain nor yield; but he was put to work -again after three days, that being the longest time the rules -allowed a man to be kept in the dungeon. - -Mrs. Raynor was annoyed with herself for taking such an interest -in this contumacious thief. Every day she protested that she -would not worry about him, and every day she worried more and -more. When Sunday came again, "I will not go near him," she said. -"I will leave him to his fate. 'What's Hecuba to him, or he to -Hecuba?'" and even while speaking, counted anxiously the last -strokes of the prison-bell ringing for service. -{396} -At that moment the convicts were entering the chapel, all but the -sick, and that troublesome _protégé_ of hers. "I won't go -near him," she said in a very determined manner, and, five -minutes after, was on her way up the prison-stairs. - -Letting herself into the guardroom with a pass-key, she found but -one man on guard; but the voices of others came through the open -door of the hospital, and with them a long, agonized moan. -Hurrying into the cell where the punishment called "the strings" -was inflicted, Mrs. Raynor saw Dougherty hanging by his wrists to -a chain run through a ring in the ceiling. His toes touched the -floor and slightly relieved the otherwise intolerable strain on -his shoulders and breast. One of the guards kept the chain up, -while the deputy-warden stood by the convict and watched for the -first sign of submission or of fainting. - -The man groaned with pain, and drops of perspiration rolled down -his face. - -"Will you give up and go to chapel next Sunday?" asked the -deputy. - -"O God! strengthen me," cried the convict. "No, I will not go!" - -Mrs. Raynor's pale face flushed as she heard this reply. - -The moans became fainter. - -"Now, give up like a man," the deputy said. "You've shown your -grit, and that is enough." - -"Lord, help me!" came in a broken cry. - -"He's going; let him down," the deputy said. - -"Dead?" cried the warden's wife, starting forward. - -"No, madam; he has fainted." - -They applied restoratives, and when his senses had returned, led -him, reeling, out into the guardroom, and placed him in a chair -by the open window. - -"Did you ever read a history of the Spanish Inquisition, Mr. -Deputy?" asked the warden's wife. - -"Yes'm!" was the immediate reply. "This is just like it, isn't -it?" - -"Well, Dougherty, you will be content now, and go to chapel next -Sunday, will you not?" asked the lady, touching the convict's -sleeve. - -He lifted his heavy eyes. He was still catching his breath like -one who sobs. "I will die before I will go to hear the name of -God and of his truth blasphemed!" he answered, speaking with -difficulty. - -"But if you should be again put up in the strings?" - -He shivered, but replied without hesitation, "He that died upon -the cross will strengthen me." - -"The fellow is a fool!" muttered one of the guard. - -"May God multiply such fools!" cried Mrs. Raynor, turning upon -the speaker. Then to the convict, "I will urge you no more. I am -not capable of judging for you, and you do not need help nor -advice from me. Go your own way." - -Dougherty's own way was to persist in his refusal to attend -chapel; and since the officers had no choice but to punish him -for his disobedience, it chanced that for the next four weeks he -was put up in the strings every Sunday morning. - -"It shall not be done again," the warden said then. "He has but a -fortnight longer to stay; and, rule or no rule, he shall do as he -likes." - -"Only a fortnight," he said to the convict, "then you will be a -free man." - -Dougherty's face brightened. "Yes, sir! And I long to set my feet -on the turf again. A man doesn't know what green grass is, till -he gets shut up in a place like this." - -"Don't come here again," the officer said kindly. "Let what you -have suffered teach you to resist temptation." - -{397} - -The convict looked at Mr. Raynor with a singular expression of -surprise, not unmingled with a momentary indignation, and seemed -about to speak, but checked himself. - -"It is only to keep from drink," the warden went on. "I don't -believe you would be dishonest when sober." - -The convict dropped his eyes. "God knows all hearts," he said. - -The next day Dougherty had a cold and a headache; the second day -he was unable to go to work; the third day he had a settled -fever. He was removed to the hospital, where the cells were -larger, and, being next the outside wall, had light and air; a -convict whose term had nearly expired was set to take care of -him, and Mrs. Raynor visited him twice a day. - -But the fever had got well fixed before the man gave up, and it -found him good fuel. He burned like a solid beech log, with a -slow, intense, unquenchable heat. His pale and sallow face became -a dull crimson; his strong, full pulses beat fiercely in neck, -wrists, and temples; and his restless eyes glowed with a -brilliant lustre. Mrs. Raynor was sometimes startled, as she sat -fanning and bathing his face, fancying that she had soothed him -to sleep, to see those eyes open suddenly, and fix themselves on -her with a searching gaze, or wander wildly about the cell. But -he lay almost as motionless as the burning log would, locked in -that fierce and silent struggle with disease. Nearly a fortnight -passed, and there were but two days left of Dougherty's term of -imprisonment; but there was no longer a hope that any freedom of -man's giving would profit him. There was scarcely more than the -embers of a man left of him; not enough, indeed, for a fever to -prey upon. The flushes had become intermittent, like the last -flickerings of a fire, and the parched and blackened mouth showed -how he had been consumed inwardly. - -It was May, and the sweet air and sunshine came in through two -narrow windows and lightened and freshened the cell where the -convict lay. Everything was clean and in order. The stone walls -and floor were whitewashed; a prayer-book, crucifix, medicine, -and glasses were carefully arranged on a little table between the -windows; and there was a spotless cover on the narrow pallet that -stood opposite. The door was wide open for a draught, and now and -then one of the guard, approaching laboriously on tiptoe, would -put his head into the cell, raise his eyebrows inquiringly at the -convict-nurse who sat at the head of the bed, receive a nod in -return, and retire with the same painful feint of making no -noise. Neither of the two men was quite clear in his mind as to -what he meant by this pantomime; but the result with both was a -conviction that all was right. Presently, as the afternoon waned, -there was the soft rustle of a woman's garments in the corridor, -and a woman's unmistakable velvet footfall. At that sound the -convict-nurse went lightly out; and Mrs. Raynor came in, and -seated herself on the stool where he had sat, and slipped a bit -of ice between the lips of the patient. He had been lying -motionless and apparently asleep during the last hour; but as she -touched him, he opened his eyes and fixed them upon her. "What -does the doctor say, ma'am?" he asked in a tone so firm that one -forgot it was but a whisper. - -{398} - -"I think that you will want to see the priest," she said gently. -"I have sent for one, and he will come tomorrow." - -A slight spasm passed over the sick man's face, his eyelids -quivered, and his mouth contracted for an instant. - -"It must come to us all sooner or later," she continued; "and it -is well for us that He who knows best and does best is the one to -choose." - -He said not a word, but closed his eyes again; and she kept -silence while he went through with his struggle, her own tears -starting as she saw how the tears swelled under his eyelids, and -the stern mouth quivered, and knew that he was tearing up the few -simple hopes that had taken root in his heart: the setting his -feet on the green grass again, the meeting his brother, the dream -of a cheerful fireside where he should be welcome, the honest -gains and generous gifts, the happy laughter, kind looks, and -sorrows from which love and faith should draw the sting. Simple -hopes; but they had struck deep, and every fibre of the man's -heart quivered and bled at their uprooting. - -Presently the watcher spoke softly: "Like as a father pitieth his -children, so the Lord hath mercy on them that fear him!" - -"May his will be done!" said the convict. "But, poor Larry!" - -"You want me to write to him?" - -"Yes ma'am!" he answered eagerly. "Tell him that I was -comfortable here, and that I was willing to die; and be sure to -tell him that coming here was the best thing that ever happened -to me. Don't let him know anything about the punishment. Larry'd -feel bad about that. Don't forget!" he urged, looking anxiously -in the lady's face. - -"I won't forget," she said. - -He stopped a moment for breath; then resumed, "Tell him that my -last words were, that he should remember his promises to me, and -never taste liquor again. And tell him to be kind to Mary for my -sake. You see, ma'am, I was fond of Mary; but of course she liked -Larry best." - -The lady blushed faintly, and laid her cool white hand on his -fevered one. "Dougherty," she said, "nobody but God thanks us for -true love. In this world a light love meets with most gratitude." - -"Sometimes I've thought the same," the man said gravely. "Some -are made to give, and some are made to take; but the Lord gives -to all." - -The next day a priest came and spent some time with the sick man. -Mrs. Raynor went up for her afternoon visit, and found him still -lingering there, looking gravely and intently at his penitent, -who lay with an expression of perfect peace on his countenance. - -"Poor man!" she sighed, glancing toward the bed. - -The father looked up with a light flashing into his thoughtful -eyes. "Poor man, madam?" he repeated. "Not so: that man is rich! -It is for him to pity us." - -She followed the priest out, and spoke to him in the corridor. -"Dougherty's brother has come from California," she said. "He -reached here this morning. It seems hard to keep him out, but I -hate to disturb a man who is dying." - -The priest frowned. "Keep the fellow out for to-day. I have just -given this man the viaticum, and want him to be undisturbed. His -confession has exhausted him, and he mustn't be made to talk much -more. How does his brother appear?" - -"Oh! he is frantic. He fainted when I first told him, and I could -hear him crying out in the yard when I got up into the -guard-room. I told him that he couldn't come in till he should -have become quiet." - -{399} - -"What sort of fellow is he?" asked the priest coldly. - -The lady hesitated. In spite of her pity, she did not fancy -Larry; neither did she like the coldness the priest showed toward -him. "He is a very handsome young man," she said presently, "and -very well dressed." - -The father shrugged his shoulders. "Oh! then he should be -admitted without delay." - -She must, of course, free herself from such an imputation. "He -looks weak and faithless," she said; "but his grief is genuine; -and his having come so far shows that he loves his brother." - -"You might tell Dougherty tonight, and let Larry in to-morrow -morning if he behaves himself." - -Mrs. Raynor sat by her patient without speaking, till presently -he looked at her and smiled faintly. "May the Lord reward you, -ma'am!" he said fervently. "You've been a good friend to me." - -"Here is a note from your brother," she said. "Shall I read it to -you?" - -He glanced eagerly at the folded paper in her hand--a note which, -in the midst of his lamentations, Larry had written and entreated -her to take up to his brother. - -"Read it!" the sick man said, making an effort to turn toward -her. - -"Would you like very much to see your brother?" she asked. - -Dougherty's face began to work. "O ma'am! has Larry come?" he -asked tremulously. - -"Yes; and presently he is to come in to see you. Of course, he -feels very much grieved, you know. That must be. But when he -shall see how resigned and happy you are, he will take comfort." - -Seeing that he eagerly watched the paper in her hand, the lady -unfolded and glanced over it. As she did so, her face underwent a -change. "It cannot be!" she cried out; and, crushing the note, -looked at the man who lay there dying before her. - -He did not understand, was too weak and dull to think of anything -but the letter. "Read it!" he said faintly. - -She began breathlessly to read the blotted page: "My dear brother -John, for God's sake don't die! I have come to take you back to -California with me, and Mary and I will spend our lives in taking -care of you. We will make up to you what you have suffered for -me, going to prison for my crime." - -The sick man started up with sudden energy and snatched the paper -from the reader's hand. "The lad is wild!" he gasped. "He didn't -know what he was writing!" - -She tried to soothe him, to coax him to lie down; but he sat -rigid with that terrible suspense, his haggard eyes fixed on -hers, a deathly pallor in his face. - -"You won't tell anybody what the foolish boy wrote!" he pleaded. - -"It was your brother, then, who robbed the man?" she said. - -He sank back, moaning, upon his pillow, "All for nothing!" he -said despairingly. "I've given my heart's blood for nothing! O -ma'am! have you the heart to spoil all I've been trying to do, -and have just about finished?" - -It was a hard promise to give, but she gave it. Without his -permission, what she had learned should never be revealed. - -"The poor lad wasn't to blame," the sick man said. "It was drink -did it. Drink always made Larry crazy. When he got home that -night, he didn't know what he'd been doing; but in the morning -Mary found the money on him, and the stain of blood on his hand. -I tried to throw the money away, and they saw me." - -{400} - -He paused, gasping for breath. He was making an effort beyond his -strength. - -"Tell me the rest to-morrow," Mrs. Raynor said, giving him a -spoonful of cordial. - -But he went on excitedly, clutching at the bed-clothes as he -spoke. "It would have been the ruin of Larry if he had come here. -He would never again have looked anybody in the face. Besides, -Mary's heart was broke entirely. So when I was caught, I just bid -Larry hold his peace. But I didn't tell any lie, ma'am. When they -asked me in court if I was guilty or not guilty, I said 'not -guilty;' and it was true." - -She gave him the cordial again, wiped his forehead, and, noticing -that his hands were cold, first lifted the blanket to cover them, -then hesitated, looked at him more closely, finally laid it back. - -He lay for a while silent and exhausted, then spoke again. "You -promise?" - -"I promise, Dougherty. Set your heart at rest. You are dying; did -you know it?" - -"Yes, ma'am!" - -After a while he said faintly, "My time will be up to-morrow -morning." - -"Yes!" - -Twilight faded into night. Mrs. Raynor went into the house for a -while, then returned to sit by her patient, sending the nurse -out. One and another came to the cell-door, looked in, spoke a -word, then went away. The heavy doors clanged, there was a sound -of rattling bars as the prison was closed for the night, then -silence settled all over. The dying man lay perfectly quiet, -breathing slowly, and responding now and then to the prayers read -by his attendant. He felt no pain, and his mind was clear and -calm. He had no complicated intellectual mechanism to confuse his -ideas of right and wrong; there was no labyrinth of sophistry to -entangle his faith, no flutter of imagination to start a latent -fear. He had done what he could; and he held on to the promises -with an iron grasp. - -That lonely watcher almost feared for him. Might he not be -presuming on an act of devotion which, after all, rose from a -love that was entirely human? - -"My friend," she said, "even the angels are not pure before God. -Perhaps you loved your brother too well." - -"If I had loved him less, he would have been lost," was the calm -reply. "I haven't loved him well enough to sin for him." - -"Do not be too sure," she said. - -"I'm a poor, ignorant man; but I've done as well as I knew how; -and he has promised. I never broke a promise to man nor woman; -and do you think that the Almighty would do the thing that I -would scorn to do?" - -"Are you not afraid of presumption?" - -"It would be presumption to doubt the word of God." - -"Do not rely on your own strength," she urged. - -"I have no strength but what he gives me," said the dying man. - -While they talked, or prayed, or were silent, the stars wore -slowly and brightly past the open windows of the cell, dropping -down the west like golden sands in an hour-glass, and counting -out the minutes of that ebbing life. Then the dim and humid -crescent of the waning moon stole by in the early morning -twilight; then the air grew alive with the golden glances of the -dawn. -{401} -As the sun rose, the man called Dougherty, a convict no longer, -lay dead on his prison pallet, his face white and calm, the dull -eyes half open, as though the deserted body followed with a -solemn gaze the flight of its emancipated tenant. - -"Would you rather have been the angel loosing Peter, or Peter in -chains? I would rather have been Peter!" - ----------- - - Translated From Le Conseiller Des Familles. - - The Children's Graves In The Catacombs. - - -Childhood and the grave! Should these two words be placed -together? Must flowers fall before bearing fruit, and children -also die? This is what mothers think, and the church thinks as -they do, because the church is a mother. In her view children do -not die; they are born again, they are transfigured; and the -grave in which cold death places them resembles the white bed, -whereon, perhaps the day before, you saw them open their eyes to -the sunlight. Do you recollect the ode in which a poet, at the -time eminent, celebrated in beautiful verses the entrance of -Louis XVII. into the heavenly palace to which his father had gone -by the rough road of martyrdom? According to Catholic belief, all -those little beings who die before making a name or obtaining a -place in this world, are also young princes, heirs-apparent of a -kingdom more beautiful than that of France, and who, like Louis -XVII., fall asleep in a prison to awake upon a throne. - -This is why the church has no prayers of grief at their burial. -Assured of their happiness, she laments not, but gives praise. By -the grace given at baptism, they are received into glory. She -covers their remains with white drapery, which calls to mind the -vestment which she put over them at the baptismal font. Instead -of mourning, she invites the children of heaven to unite in -praises, _Laudate, pueri!_ The Virgin, who was herself a -mother, receives them at her altar, where the triumphant -procession congratulates the Queen of angels that her empire is -enriched by one more subject--_Ave, Regina caelorum! Ave, -Domina angelorum!_ The funeral mass for little children is -only a thanksgiving to God, who has reserved a favored space for -those _blessed_ beings, _Venite, benedicti Patris_. -Having read the gospel of our Lord, who blessed and caressed -those to whom he promised the kingdom of heaven, the last prayer -of the church which throws a little earth upon the body that is -to rise again, is that we, adult sinners, may one day rejoice -with them in the same kingdom. Read again this funeral service, -and if you have a mourning mother among your friends and -relatives, (who does not know one?) give her these consolations. -She will believe that she hears the voice of God, who stopped the -coffin of the widow's only son and restored him to her. - -{402} - -But these are, if I may speak thus, only the first caresses of -religion of the remains of children; the honor which she accords -to them is perpetuated in the worship with which she surrounds -their graves. - -Paganism took little care of the tombs of those who had not -furnished to their country a citizen or a soldier. We know that -they considered a child's life very unimportant. Virgil alone, -among the poets, uttered a cry for the souls of young infants, -whom he represents as being cut down before the eyes of their -mothers. In those family sepulchres, called by the Romans -_columbaria_, I found several little busts in marble, -representing children, by the side of which were funeral urns, -containing at the bottom several pinches of ashes. This was all -that remained. Among the innumerable inscriptions which cover the -walls of the immense gallery of the Vatican, I saw several -epitaphs coldly stating that Junius Severianus had lived two -years; that Octavius Liberalis died when he was five years four -months and four days old; that Steteria Superba had departed life -at the age of eighteen months. But there was no wish or hope of -meeting them again, and no religious emblem to console the -mourners. - -Elysium did not exist for those shades without a name, as they -were called, _sine nomine manes_, and their sepulchre closed -without hope and without glory. The position of children in -heathen times was revealed to me by an epitaph which I found at -Antibes, the ancient Antipolis, to which the fashionable Romans -came to enjoy the fine coast and a sunny sky. A stone detached -from the ruins of a theatre, now almost entirely destroyed by the -action of the weather and the sea, had the following inscription: -"To the divine shades of Septentrion, a child of twelve years, -who danced two days in the theatre and pleased the people"! -[Footnote 83] They made the poor slave-boy contribute for two -days to their delight; but he was overcome, and they applauded-- -_saltavit et placuit_. See, then, what society made of this -child--a plaything and a victim! Meditating upon this, I recalled -to mind the time when another infant of twelve years of age -glorified God in the temple at Jerusalem, and also when the -Saviour took the hand of the dying girl and saying unto her, -"Arise!" restored her to her father. I was obliged to leave these -cursed ruins and enter for a moment into the temple of that God -who, to save these little ones, took upon himself the form of a -child--_Custodiens parvulos Dominus_. - - [Footnote 83: "Diis Manibus pueri Septentrionis, annorum - duodecim, qui biduo saltavit in theatro et placuit."] - - II. - -Jesus Christ was born, was an infant; and since that time a -revolution in favor of children began, which is perceptible in -the epitaphs upon their graves. The child becomes a king, almost -a god. It is at least a soul called to heaven and expecting us; -and what new regards surround it for the future in that lapidary -style, which says so much in so few words. - -I was at Avignon, and visiting the museum of that city, my -attention was attracted to a grave-stone of one of the first -Christian centuries. It contained the following words: -"_Florentiola, pax tecum!_" Florentiola, peace be with -thee!" By the side was the monogram of Christ, surrounded with -glory. Who was this little Florentiola? The tender diminutive -proved plainly that she was an infant, and a beloved one. The -wish expressed and the sign of Christ the Redeemer gave evidence -that she was also a Christian. -{403} -This little name brought to mind another inscription which I -found somewhere in one of our cemeteries, upon the sepulchre of a -young woman: "She bloomed, blossomed, and died." Of these three -periods of life, Florentiola had passed through only the first; -but the last words expressed the hope that, as she had given to -this world the blossom, she would yield the fruit in another: -"_Pax tecum!_" - -But one must go to the catacombs in Rome, and read, in that great -Christian city of death, the delicacies of the affections of -earth, and the hopes of a resurrection, which are radiant upon -the graves of little children. In the cemetery of St. Priscilla, -I observed two epitaphs distinguished above all others by their -brevity. One of them consists only of a single melancholy word, -"_Libera_" that is to say, free. A dove flying away, -carrying an olive-branch, explains the meaning, which to me -appeared sublime. - -This captive soul which had passed through the prison of earth -was free at last! The church conveys a similar idea at the -funeral obsequies of little children: "_Anima nostra, sicut -passer, erepta est de laqueo venantium. Laqueus contritus est, et -nos liberati sumus._" (Psalm cxxiii.) "Our soul is escaped as -a bird out of the snare of the fowlers. The snare is broken, and -we are delivered." - -The other one, which I remarked at the same place, containing -only a word, was quite as beautiful and more -Christian--"_Redempta_," redeemed. This was also expressive -of liberty, but it was a freedom which had been acquired as the -price of a ransom which was the blood of God: _Redempta!_ - -This last expression alludes to the grace given by baptism, which -liberates the soul held in bondage by the demon. The children's -epitaphs have it often, and prove that the church had conferred -the sacraments upon them at the most tender age. You can find for -instance, in the museum of the Lateran: "Paulina, neophyte of -eight years; Candida, neophyte, twenty-one months old; Zozima, -neophyte, five years, eight months, and thirteen days; Matronata -Matrona, neophyte, one year, fifty-two days." - -Upon a grave in the catacomb of Saint Calista, a Grecian -inscription was found by the Canon Profili, consisting of the -following words: - -"Dionysius, newly illuminated, one year and four months." This -title of enlightened was given only to those who came into -possession of it by baptism. Saint Chrysostom mentions the -enlightened in no other way. - -This one, collected in the cemetery of the new road Salaria, and -preserved at the Lateran, is more explicit: - -"Florentius dedicates this inscription to his well-beloved son, -Apronianus, who lived one year, nine months, five days. He was -loved by his grand-mother, and seeing that he was nigh unto -death, she asked the church to make him a Christian before he -should leave the world." [Footnote 84] - - [Footnote 84: "Florentius filio suo Aproniano fecit titulum - benemerenti qui vixit annum et menses novem, dies quinque. - Cum amatus fuisset à majore suâ et vidit hunc morti - constitutum esse, petivit de ecclesiâ ut fidelis de seculo - recessisset."] - -Baptism, which was conferred upon the newly-born, was a great -consolation to those who witnessed their departure from this -world. "O Magus, innocent child!" said an inscription at the -museum of the Lateran, "thou hast gone to live among the -guiltless. How much more endurable is life! With what joy the -church, thy other mother, received thee, when thou didst leave -the world for her. We will suppress the murmurings of our hearts -and restrain the tears from our eyes." [Footnote 85] - - [Footnote 85: "Magus puer innocens, esse jam inter innocentes - coepisti. Quàm staviles (stabilis) tivi (tibi) haec vita est! - Quàm te laetum excipet (excepit) mater ecclesia edeoc (de - hoc) mundo revertentem. Comprimatur pectorum gemitus, - struatur (destruatur) fletus oculorum."] - -{404} - -Expressions of the most ingenious tenderness are shown in the -last farewell to creatures of whom only smiles are known. - -"Cyricus, dear soul, peace be with thee! He lived a year and -sixty-two days!" [Footnote 86] - - [Footnote 86: Cyricus, anima dulcis in pace, vixit annum i. - dies lxii.] - -"Here reposes our dear soul, named Quiriace, an innocent child, -beautiful and good, who lived three years, three months, eight -days." [Footnote 87] - - [Footnote 87: Hic posita est anima dulcis, innoca sapiens et - pulcra, nomine Quiriace, quae vixit annos iii. menses iii. - dies viii.] - -The word _soul_, in the Latin language, is a term of great -tenderness. It signifies life as it is visible. But in the -Christian language it has a more spiritual signification. As the -poet says: - - "Thou callest me thy life; call me thy soul! - I wish a name more lasting than a day. - Life is of little value, a breath extinguishes the flame; - But the soul is immortal as our love." - -Maternal affection creates, in Christianity, a name for children -which becomes as the family name for those beings who pass from -earth, having only glanced at its sorrows. The mother remembers -that the Lord said, the angels of these little ones behold the -face of the Father who is in heaven. This was enough to make so -many angels of those innocent babes by an intentional confusion. -This is hereafter to be their title: and where is now the -afflicted mother who, at the death-bed of her son, has not seen, -like the poet, the radiant face of the angel bending over and -calling the child who resembles him? Primitive epigraphy goes to -show the cause of this synonymy upon the graves of children. - -"_Angelica, bene in pace_." "Angelica, child, be happy in -peace," was one inscription of the Catacombs. - -Upon another was written: - -"Laurentius to his beloved son Severus, who lived four years, -eight months, and five days, and was called by the angels on the -7th of January." [Footnote 88] - - [Footnote 88: "Severo filio dulcissimo Laurentius pater - benemerenti qui vixit annos iv. menses viii. dies v. - accersitus ab angelis, vii. idus Januarii."] - -One is pleased to recognize in these funereal places, the -remembrances of school days, being the only ones that the -departed youths have left in life. In several catacombs, near the -Cubicula, where the faithful ones assembled for prayer, large -halls can be seen, which have neither altar nor pictures, and no -other embellishment than banks made in the turf, mostly -terminated by one or two elevated seats. It is presumed that the -antiquarians assembled children in school, and instructed them in -the catechism. Near one of these halls can be read the following -epitaph in the catacomb of Saint Priscilla: - -"Obrimos to Palladios, his beloved cousin and schoolmate, as a -remembrance." - -In the catacomb of the new Via Salaria the school-teacher united -with the mother to write an epitaph upon his pupil, whom he had -adopted in his heart. - -"With a holy and pure spirit, this grave has been made to -Florentius, a child of thirteen years, by Coritus, his teacher, -who loved him more than a son, and by Corda, his mother." -[Footnote 89] - - [Footnote 89: "In spiritu sancto bono, Florentio qui vixit - annis xiii. Coritus magister qui plus amavit quam proprium - filium, et Cordeus mater filio benemerenti fecerunt.'] - -{405} - -The glass paintings found at the same place are a finished -representation of the education of young Christians in those -days. On a chalice made of glass there is a child, whom the -father and mother are teaching to read the Scriptures. Another -one represents two little children, Pompeianus and Theodora, with -their parents, under the trees. They are holding a copy of the -Gospel, and Pompeianus points to the monogram of Christ which is -erected in the midst of this Christian family. Their father is -discoursing and explaining to them the precepts of their faith. - -But once torn from the bosom of their family, who received -children into the world of souls, which they entered astonished? -The epitaphs recommend them to the saints in heaven to attend -them on their entrance into paradise. The mother of Aurelius -Gemellus, who died at the age of eight years, added to the -inscription engraved upon his tombstone the following: "O Saint -Basilla! we recommend to you the innocence of Gemellus!" -[Footnote 90] In former times this was to be found in the -cemetery of Saint Basilla, now of Saint Hermes. - - [Footnote 90: "Commendo Basilla, innocentiam Gemelli."] - -A similar prayer was addressed to this saint in the same -catacomb, but for another child: "O Saint Basilla! we commend to -thy care Crescentinus, and our daughter Crescentia, who lived ten -months." [Footnote 91] - - [Footnote 91: Domina Basilla, commendamus tibi Crescentinum - et filiam nostram ... quae vixit menses x." ...] - -More frequently it was to God they directed the loved soul, "Lord -Jesus, remember our child," said a Grecian inscription reported -by Northcote. - -Is there not a remembrance of the stammering of a child in -prayer, in the first pronunciation, and in the orthography of the -last word of the epitaph on a little girl? - -"Regina, bibas (vivas) in Domino Zezu!" "Regina, live in the Lord -Jesus!" - -If life is only a pilgrimage for us, is not this particularly -true of those who have only passed a few days in this world? This -idea has been rendered in the epitaph of a young Christian; and -few have made so great an impression upon me as the following, -simple and short as it is: - -"_Peregrina, vixit annos viii., menses viii., dies x. Decessit -de corpore_." "Peregrina lived eight years, eight months, ten -days, then departed from the body." - -Did this name of Peregrina, pilgrim, passenger, allude to her -rapid voyage upon the earth, which she hastened to leave? I -incline to this beautiful idea, which a similar inscription -authorizes, not far from there, carved upon the tomb of a -Christian: "Viator!" - -Upon the grave-stones of children of the first centuries, it is -not uncommon to see a white dove, carved upon an antique cup, -drinking from the border. Those who repose beneath that stone had -drunk of the cup of life, and taking a taste, not wishing more, -had spread their wings and returned to heaven. - -In that better land they become intercessors for their kindred on -the earth. What family has not theirs? And who has not prayed to -those young elect, yesterday our brothers and sons, to-day our -defenders in that place from which they behold us and will prove -their love for us? The following can be read in the Lateran -Museum: - -"Matronata matrona, intercede for thy parents! She lived one -year, fifty-two days." [Footnote 92] - - [Footnote 92: "Pete pro parentes tuos, Matronata Matrona, - quae vixit an. i. di lii."] - -{406} - -And upon another stone: - -"Anatolius has made this grave for his dear son, who lived seven -years, seven months, twenty-two days. May the soul repose in -happiness with God. Pray for thy sister!" [Footnote 93] - - [Footnote 93: "Anatolius filio benemerenti fecit, qui vixit - annis vii. mensis vii. diebus xxii. Spiritus tuus bene - requiescat in Deo. Petas pro sorore tua."] - - - III. - -I must confess that we have preserved little of the architectural -simplicity in the inscriptions upon tombs. It is just to say that -they are of a poor style, laden with lengthy common epitaphs, -emphatic declamations, and warm protestations, contradicted by -the neglected and solitary aspect of those almost forgotten -places. I make an exception of the sepulchres of children. If you -find in a cemetery a grave which is preserved with love, invested -with crowns, and dressed with fresh flowers, you can recognize -the place of a child. In all countries of the world, a delicate -worship is devoted to the mortal remains of innocence. The Indian -graves have become celebrated, since Chateaubriand described them -so charmingly. Now that Christianity has been established in -those parts of the globe, mothers no longer suspend the cradles -of their sons upon branches of trees, but their funerals have -retained much of the simple grace of the time of Chactas. - -A missionary has written: "I had to attend the burial of a little -child five or six months old. They brought it to the church, -laying it upon a mat, with garlands of flowers for a -winding-sheet. We should have thought that it was sleeping -sweetly, and notwithstanding its color, I admired its angelic -beauty. After the prayers, which the church addresses to the good -God, they dropped it gently into the grave, as if it had been its -cradle, without covering even the face. Flowers were given in the -place of earth, to throw upon the body. All the assistants did -likewise, and some commenced to weep. It was sad to see the earth -close over this little body so sweetly adorned, and cover that -young face which appeared to smile upon us. It was to become food -for worms; but the beautiful soul was already in heaven with the -angels. I then united with the heavenly spirits to sing praises -to God at the happiness of his little creature. I hope that this -child will not forget the young missionary who celebrated its -deliverance from this world of misery." [Footnote 94] - - [Footnote 94: Vie de M. l'Abbé Chopart, p. 188.] - -This scene recalls to me a similar one which I witnessed in the -village of Beauvoisis. I met in the street the funeral procession -of a little girl who was being carried to the cemetery. In -advance of the coffin, a child of ten years, concealed under a -floating drapery, was carrying a basket of white flowers. Thus -she walked, gathering and smiling, happy with her part, until -their arrival at the sepulchre; then throwing her basket into the -grave, she disappeared among the trees, delighted at having -prepared this flowery bed for her playmate, who was to sleep -there the long night of death. - -Menander said in a celebrated verse, "He whom the gods love dies -young." And Sophocles said before him, "It is good not to be -born; but if once born, the second degree of happiness is to die -young." The ancients considered it fortune to be delivered from -mortal misery. What would they have said if those who left them -had appeared upon the bosom of God in a beatitude and glory -without end? _Bene in pace!_ - ------------- - -{407} - - Harem Life in Egypt and Constantinople. [Footnote 95] - - [Footnote 95: _Harem Life in Egypt and Constantinople_. - By Emeline Lott. 4th edition. 12mo, pp. 312. Richard Bentley. - New Burlington Street, London. 1867.] - - -This volume has run through several editions in England within -the last three years. It is destined from its popularity to run -through as many more; but as yet, it has found no publisher on -this side of the Atlantic, although its merits are -well-established in British literature. Observing a new edition -announced by Bentley, it reminds us that the neat, unpretending -little work has not received any recognition from our republic, -nor has any attention been called to it. In truth, the American -public, deeply interested in travellers and travelling in the -east, or in whatever comes from the press illustrating scriptural -scenes and events, have strangely overlooked this production, -which furnishes a better insight into oriental domestic life than -any account published for many years. - -Egypt is now what it was in the days of the crucifixion and of -Julius Caesar; it is unchanged, it is unchangeable, in its social -structure, as the pyramids in their architecture, or the sands of -the desert in their external aspect. To understand the condition -of the people now, is to understand their condition when the -Israelites under the direction of Moses went out from among them. -To enter the family circle in the valley of the Nile for the -purpose of learning their present mode of life, is at once an -introduction to all their progenitors who ever dwelt in the same -region in the reign of the ancient Pharaohs. In order to see what -a Roman city was in the first century, it is requisite to put -aside the ashes from a submerged Pompeii, or to remove the -superincumbent earth from a buried Herculaneum. But in Egypt, to -comprehend what was the moral, social, intellectual, religious -appearance of the country when Cleopatra sailed upon the river, -all that need be done is to push aside the mat which serves for a -door to the first mud hovel met with, or pass within the first -portal where heavy hinges grate upon the ear an uncordial -reception. - -The same Egypt can be seen which Alexander of Macedon, Sesostris, -and the shepherd-kings beheld. Egyptian institutions were never -buried; or, if buried, their sepulchre is above ground. A living -death is visible on all sides; it is a palsy that struck the land -long before the dawn of history, and may remain as it now is, -when the history of the present century has passed into oblivion. -Although the Egyptian mind and morals will not die in their body, -still no motion is in its limbs, no quickening vitality in its -joints, no trembling in its nerves; the blood is stagnant; a -black pool as destitute of national animation as the waters of -the Dead Sea. Progress is a term never heard of near the -habitation of the Sphinx; and the period of ruins has gone by. -Everything seems running rapidly to demolition; but nothing is -demolished; decay has in that mysterious soil a perennial -existence, a species of recuperation, that renews itself like the -integuments of neighboring snakes, lizards, and toads, which bury -themselves in the same rich slime. - -{408} - -A book, therefore, on modern harem life in Egypt, is in one sense -a hand-book for historians in their explorations after the -vanities and household troubles of good King Solomon, when his -domestic peace and quiet, his comfort and felicity, were invaded -by many more spinsters than the Levitical law allowed to any one -wise man. This dame Emeline is the very woman to aid them in -their archaeological researches. Her volume furnishes important -hints and information; and if on the title-page nine centuries -before the Christian era were substituted for the date of -publication, instead of nineteen centuries after it, the change -would be so unimportant in a chronological point of view, that no -annalist would be aware of the anachronism. It would look like a -second edition of Herodotus, revised and improved, for the -benefit of the ladies, and far surpassing in truth the first -impression of that ancient Halicarnassian, full of his old -gallinaceous and bovine stories. - -Mrs. Lott, an English school-teacher, was engaged in London to -proceed to Egypt in 1862-3, to take charge of the education of -his highness the Grand Pasha Ibraim, five or six years old, the -son of Ismail Pasha, the viceroy, and the grandson of the -renowned and illustrious Ibraim. The lady in due time arrived at -the port of Alexandria, consigned to the delicate consideration -and tender mercies of the viceroy's agent, like any other bale of -valuable and perishable drygoods. Her first glimpse of the land -in the culinary and creature-comfortable line of development was -not favorable. She next proceeded to the city of Cairo by rail, -and was invited to the house of the vice-regal commercial -partner, a German in lineage and language, but with principles -and refinement somewhat neglected from want of proper planting -and propagation in his youthful European culture. At the -residence of this gentleman she was perpetually served with the -same dishes at breakfast, noon, and dinner--boiled and roast -mutton, stringy and dry, vermicelli soup, tomatoes stuffed with -rice, chicory, spinach, and "the whole of the dishes were -swimming in fat;" oranges and coffee followed after. Considering -that the thermometer was raging above 100°, Fahrenheit, this -oriental feed was rather oleaginous, and the lady longed for the -wings of a dove to devour her provender elsewhere. So far she had -learned one important lesson, and thus paints it. She says: - - "I can endorse the veracity of the statement made by a - contributor to _Once a Week_, who most naively and - truthfully asserts that 'the land of Egypt is ruled over by - twenty princes: one of whom is the viceroy, eighteen of the - others are known as consuls-general of European nations; but - the twentieth is the most powerful of all, and his name is - Baksheesh, (gift, present, bribery.')" - -To the high and mighty Prince Baksheesh, in duty bound we render -all due homage; we bow our lowest salaam, and are pleased to make -his acquaintance. He is not wholly unknown to fame in this -hemisphere; for a popular superstition prevails in the rural -districts that his majesty has many loyal subjects and followers -in our own dearly beloved and dearly governed model republic. -Prince Baksheesh is a power in our institutions, and a party to -much of our legislation. The misfortune of the unprotected female -was, that she did not propitiate the potentate; the superabundant -fat would have been speedily withdrawn from the bill of fare. - -{409} - -At last the day arrived for her to remove to the harem of the -viceroy on the other side of the river; and she was destined to -leave the hands of the agent in the same sort of consignment in -which she had come into them, that is, amid bales, barrels, and -boxes of merchandise. The dame, therefore, had no opportunity to -take a look into the royal market-basket, to ascertain how Ismail -Pasha provided for his little private family of three hundred -females of different colors, ages, sizes,--and sexes of the -feminine and neuter gender. Although the English governess has an -eye for the ornamental and beautiful, it is nevertheless only one -eye; the other throws its dark splendor upon the useful and -substantial. Sometimes she endeavored to close both against -sights which were neither the one nor the other. The truth of -history, however, compels her to supply her readers with -specimens of all these. She observes: - - "The vice-regal standard, the everlasting crescent, floated at - the stem and stern. On they rowed most vigorously, and in less - than ten minutes I was landed at the stairs of the harem. The - building is a very plain structure, the interior of which is - painted like the trunks of the trees of the Dutch model village - of Broeck. In appearance it resembles the letter E, and is a - large pile, composed of five blocks of buildings. Proceeding to - the one which faced the Nile, I entered the _harem_, - ('sacred,') passed through a small door--the grating sound of - whose huge hinges still seems to creak in my ears like the - grinding of the barrel-organ of an itinerant Italian or - Savoyard--which led into a court-yard, at that time lined, not - with a corps of the Egyptian infantry, with their shrill brass - bands playing opera airs, but with a group of hard-working - Fellahs and Arabs, toiling away like laborers in the London - docks, and rolling into the immense space hundreds of bales of - soft Geneva velvets, the costliest Lyons silks, rich French - satins, most elegant designed muslins, fast gaudy-colored - Manchester prints, stout Irish poplins, the finest Irish - linens, Brussels, Mechlin, Valenciennes, Honiton, and imitation - laces, Nottingham hose, French silk stockings, French and - Coventry ribbons, cases of the purest Schiedam, pipes of - spirits of wine, huge cases of fashionable Parisian boots, - shoes, and slippers, immense chests of _bon bons_ in - magnificent fancy-worked cases, boxes and baskets, bales of - _tombeki_, and the bright, golden-leaved tobacco of - Istambol, (Constantinople;) Cashmere, Indian, French, and - Paisley shawls of the most exquisite designs; baskets of - pipe-bowls, cases of amber mouth-pieces, cigarette papers, and - a whole host of miscellaneous packages too various to - enumerate, of other commodities destined for the use of the - inmates of that vast conservatory of beauty, all supplied by - his highness's partners. For, be it known to you, gentle - reader, that the Viceroy of Egypt may most appropriately be - styled _par excellence_ the Sinbad of the age, the - merchant-prince of the terrestrial globe. - - "Here I was received by two eunuchs, one of whom was attired in - a light drab uniform. ... I was then ushered through another - door, the portals of which were guarded by a group of eunuchs, - similarly attired, but whose uniforms were most costly - embroidered. Their features were hideous and ferocious, their - figures corpulent, and carriage haughty, - - "They also salaamed me in the most oriental style. Thence, - passing along a marble passage, I entered a large stone hall, - which was supported by huge granite pillars which led me to the - grand staircase, where I was received by the chief eunuch, who - is called _kislar agaci_, 'the captain of the girls.' - - "This giant spectre of a man ... advanced toward me, made his - salaam, and ushered me, the _hated_, despised Giaour, into - the noble marble hall of the harem, which was then for the - first time polluted by the footsteps of the unbeliever. The - scene around me was so singular and strange that I paused to - contemplate it. The hall was of vast dimensions, supported by - beautiful porphyry pillars, and the marble floor was covered - with fine matting. I was now handed over to the lady - superintendent of the slaves, a very wealthy woman, about - twenty-four years of age, with fine dark-blue eyes, aquiline - nose, large mouth, and of middle stature. - - "She was attired in a colored muslin dress and trousers, over - which she wore a quilted lavender-colored satin paletot. Her - head was covered with a small blue gauze handkerchief tied - round it, and in the centre of the forehead, tucked up under - it, a lovely natural dark-red rose. She wore a beautiful large - spray of diamonds arranged in the form of the flower - 'forget-me-not,' which hung down like three tendrils below her - ear on the left side. Large diamond drops were suspended from - her ears, and her fingers were covered with numerous rings, the - most brilliant of which were a large rose-pink diamond and a - beautiful sapphire. -{410} - Her feet were encased in white cotton stockings, and - patent-leather Parisian shoes. Her name was Anina: she had been - formerly an Ikbal 'favorite.' ... The lady superintendent now - took me by the hand, led me up two flights of stairs covered - with thick, rich Brussels carpet of a most costly description, - and as soft and brilliant in colors as the dewy moss of - Virginia Water. The walls were plain. Then we passed through a - suite of several rooms, elegantly carpeted, in all of which - stood long divans; some of which were covered, with white, and - others with yellow and crimson satin. Over the doorways hung - white satin damask curtains, looped up with silk cords and - tassels to correspond, with richly gilded cornices over each. - ... Against the walls were fixed numerous silver chandeliers, - each containing six wax candles, with frosted colored glass - shades made in the form of tulips over them. On each side of - the room large mirrors were fixed in the wall, each of which - rested on a marble-topped console table supported by gilded - legs. The only other articles of furniture that were scattered - about the apartments were a dozen common English cane-bottom - _Kursi_-chairs." - -She is next conducted further on to some dormitories, where -bedsteads are wanting, being an article of furniture unused by -the Gypsies. Against the walls were piled up beds in heaps, -covered over with a red silk coverlet. On the divan was placed a -silver tray--both toilet-tables and wash-hand-stands being -unheard-of comforts--containing the princesses' toilet -requisites. In her general inspection the governess is led to the -apartments of the Princess Epouse, the mother of the little boy -for whom Mrs. Lott is engaged. This princess is dressed--but let -dame Emeline describe the scene, as only a lady can do it: - - "The Princess Epouse, attired in a dirty, crumpled, - light-colored muslin dress and trousers, sat _à la - Turque_, doubled up like a clasp-knife, without shoes or - stockings, smoking a cigarette. ... Her feet were encased in - _babouches_, 'slippers without heels.' ... In front of the - divan, behind and on each side of me, stood a bevy of the - ladies of the harem, assuredly not the types of Tom Moore's - 'Peris of the East,' as described in such glowing colors in his - far-famed _Lalla Rookh_, for I failed to discover the - slightest trace of loveliness in any of them. On the contrary, - most of their countenances were pale as ashes, exceedingly - disagreeable, flat and globular in figure; in short, so rotund, - that they gave me the idea of large full moons; nearly all were - _passé_. Their photographs were as hideous and hag-like as - the witches in the opening scene in Macbeth, which is not to be - wondered at, as some of them had been the favorites of Ibrahim - Pasha. ... Some wore white linen dresses and trousers. Their - hair and finger-nails were dyed with _henna_. ... They had - handsome gold watches ... suspended from their necks by thick, - massive gold chains. Their fingers were covered with a - profusion of diamond, emerald, and ruby rings; in their ears - were ear-rings of various precious stones, all set in the old - antique style of silver. ... Behind stood half-a-dozen of white - slaves, chiefly Circassians." - -The mother leaves a favorable impression on the mind of the -governess, who, being finally dismissed from the interview, -pursues her explorations and makes a great discovery neither -complimentary to the princess nor cleanly, where water is -abundant, but where ablutions seem to be abnormal; for it is -written in her journal that - - "Thence we passed along a stone passage which leads to her - highness's bath-room. ... The marble bath is both long and - wide, with taps for hot and cold water. The water actually - boils into which their highnesses enter. This only occurs when - they have visited the viceroy, and not daily, or even at any - other time. The bath of the poets is a myth." - -The governess at last reaches her own chamber, where she is -destined to sleep and seclude herself in her leisure hours. The -prospect at first is not inviting, nor does a second view afford -more encouragement; an evident sense of disappointment, if not of -dismay, is experienced; and thus she pours forth her vexation: - -{411} - - "On the right-hand side of the first room was the small - bed-room which was assigned to me as my apartment. It was - carpeted, having a divan covered with green and red striped - worsted damask, which stood underneath the window, which - commanded a fine _coup-d'ceil_ of the gardens attached to - the palace of the viceroy's pavilion. The hangings of the - double doors and windows were of the same material. The - furniture consisted of a plain green painted iron bedstead, the - bars of which had never been fastened, and pieces of wood, like - the handles of brooms, and an iron bar, were placed across to - support the two thin cotton mattresses laid upon it. There were - neither pillows, bolsters, nor bed linen, but as substitutes - were placed three thin flat cushions; not a blanket, but two - old worn-out wadded coverlets lay upon the bed. Not the sign of - a dressing-table or a chair of any description, and a total - absence of all the appendages necessary for a lady's bed-room; - not even--" - -Well, well, Mrs. Lott, the "not even" was, in your civilized -opinion, certainly very odd to be sure. But don't mind trifles; -let it be forgotten; let us ramble elsewhere. You were saying -just now something about four broad steps; go on; that's right. - - "Four broad steps led down into the garden, close to a plain - white marble-columned gate, on the top of which stood out in - bold relief the statues of two huge life-sized lions. ... Here - and there were scattered rose-trees, the brilliancy of whose - variegated colors and the perfumes of their flowers were - delightfully refreshing; geraniums of almost every hue; - jessamines, whose large white and yellow blossoms were thrice - the size of those of England, and a variety of indigenous and - eastern plants, shrubs, and flowers, which were so thickly - studded about that they rendered the view extremely - picturesque, and perfumed the air, grateful to the senses. - Verbena trees, as large as ordinary fruit-trees; other plants - bearing large yellow flowers, as big as tea-cups, with most - curious leaves; cactuses, and a complete galaxy of botanical - curiosities, whose names the genius of a Paxton would be - perhaps puzzled to disclose, ornamented those Elysian grounds." - -This is only one sketch of only one spot in the many gorgeous and -luxurious localities. Space forbids copying more; but the book -states: - - "Leaving these neglected scenes of amusement, we proceed along - a path to the right, through a superb marble-paved hall, the - ceiling of which is in fresco and gold. It is supported by - twenty-eight plain pink-colored marble columns, surmounted by - richly-gilded Indian wheat, the leaves of which hang down most - gracefully, on each side of which, and also above ... are some - very handsome lofty rooms, the ceilings of which are also in - fresco, with superb gilded panels. ... - - "The grounds of Frogmore, the Crystal Palace, St. Cloud, - Versailles, the Duke of Devonshire's far-famed Chatsworth, and - our national pride, Kensington Gardens and Windsor Home Park, - exquisite, beautiful, and rural as they are ... all lack the - brilliant display of exotics which thrive here in such - luxuriance. The groves of orange-trees, the myrtle hedges, the - beautiful sheets of water, the spotless marble kiosks, the - artistic statuary, are all so masterly blended together with - such exquisite taste, that these gardens ... completely outvie - them." - -The princesses were sometimes as highly adorned as the halls of -marbles and frescoes, and as ornamental as the gardens of -blooming exotics. On the festival of the Great Bairam, or on -state occasions, when lady visitors made formal calls to compare -complexions and cashmeres, their highnesses are spoken of with -the highest delight: - - "They wore the most costly silks, richest satins, and softest - velvets; adorned themselves with the treasures of their jewel - caskets, so that their persons were one blaze of precious - stones. That crescent of females (for they always ranged - themselves in the form of the Turkish symbol) was then a - parterre of diamonds, amethysts, topazes, turquoises, - chrysoberyls, sapphires, jaspers, opals, agates, emeralds, - corals, rich carbuncles, and rubies. In short, the profusion of - diamonds with which the latter adorned their persons from day - to day became so sickening to me that my eyes were weary at the - sight of those magnificent baubles, to which all women are so - passionately attached." - -{412} - -But weary as were her British eyes, still she gazed in rapture -when the darling gems were on exhibition; moreover, in the -journal the impressions were faithfully recorded. On another -occasion, when some princesses were coming, - - "The Princess Epouse, the mother of my prince, was attired in a - rich, blue-figured silk robe, trimmed with white lace and - silver thread, with a long train; full trousers of the same - material, high-heeled embroidered satin shoes to match the - dress. On her head she had a small white crape handkerchief, - elegantly embroidered with blue silk and silver, and round it - placed a tiara of May blossoms in diamonds. She wore a necklace - to correspond, having large sapphire drops hanging down the - neck. Her arms were ornamented with three bracelets, composed - of diamonds and sapphires, and an amulet entirely of sapphires - of almost priceless value. ... At times my eyes, when looking - at the Peris arrayed in all their gems, have become as dim as - if I had been fixing them on the noonday sun." - -What young lady of an enterprising turn of mind would not be -willing, after reading these glowing descriptions, to pack up her -Saratoga trunks, to engage the Adams Express Company, and to -charter the Cunard line of steamers, to aid her on to a glorious -future near the base of the pyramids? Certainly not one of the -ambitious and strong-minded. But they need not ask the English -governess to go with them. She has been there; she will -respectfully decline going again--not she, as Shakespeare's other -old lady in Henry the VIII. exclaims, "not for all the mud in -Egypt." For another part of the story remains to be told; another -side of the picture to be presented; and dame Emeline tells it -truthfully, she paints it lifelike; the rose is beautiful, but -beware the serpent under it. - -Mrs. Lott is apparently a gentlewoman, refined, accomplished, -intellectual, with an appreciation of the difference between -civilized society and barbarism. But in the vice-regal harem, -education was not to be found; ignorance was universal, -superstition reigned supreme. None could read, or write, or -sketch, or converse on a rational subject. No one could sing or -perform on a musical instrument; none cared for to-morrow or for -a hereafter. Their daily routine had all the monotony of the -desert with its burning sands, destitute of variety in incident -or shade of change; it was equally unproductive and utterly -worthless. They had nothing to expect with pleasing anticipation; -they had nothing to remember with delight. Physically, morally, -mentally they were unclean and debased. Their passions, when -aroused, were ungovernable; their greatest joy was revenge upon a -rival; and their revenge was deadly, by suffocation or -submersion, poison or the bow-string. Their amusements were all -sensual; their weary hours of listless idleness were passed in -indulgence of some enervating vice alike deleterious to health, -comfort, and color. - -The servants were steeped in only a lower depth of dirt and -depravity. The princesses had the power of life and death over -them, and it was a power often exercised; they would put them to -the torture for a trivial fault, the breaking of a plate or the -falling of a cup; and cheeks and arms seamed with parallel rows -of the red-hot iron, attested how often and how unmercifully -cruel had been their punishment. The food of the menials was not -prepared for them, nor given to them; but they purloined by -stealth from the dishes on their way to the princesses' -apartments; and after their repast was ended, the refuse of -chicken and pigeon bones, of mutton, of soup, of rice, of -vegetables, and the rinds of fruit were tossed into a basket in -one loathing mess, mixed up, around which the servants flocked -like carrion birds, and, squatting on the floor, inserted -ravenously their reeking hands to pick out disgusting morsels -with their dripping, unwashed fingers. - -{413} - -The laundry did not require much water; for the volume informs -us, - - "Those who performed the duties of washerwomen were occupied - daily in their avocation, except on the Sabbath, (Fridays.) But - that was not very laborious work, since neither bed, table, nor - chamber linen are used. Thus they were engaged until twelve, - when their highnesses partook of their breakfast separately. It - was served up on a large green-lackered tray, _minus_ - table-cloth, knives and forks, but with a large ivory - tablespoon, having a handsome coral handle, the evident emblem - of their rank as princesses. It was placed upon the - _soofra_, a low kind of stool, covered with a handsome - silk cloth. The repast occupied about twenty minutes. Then - pipes, in which are placed small pills of opium, or more often - cigarettes and coffee, were handed to them, and each princess - retired to her own apartment. Thus they became confirmed - opium-smokers, which produced a kind of intoxication." ... - -Their common indulgence in opium, with a profuse supply of -European wines and Schiedam gin, produced its natural results, -and is thus depicted: - - "Oftentimes after the princesses had been indulging too freely - in that habit to which they had became slaves, their - countenances would assume most hideous aspects; their eyes - glared, their eyebrows were knit closely together; no one dared - to approach them. In fact, they had all the appearance of mad - creatures, while at other times they were gay and cheerful. - - "They only combed their hair (which was full of vermin) once a - week, on Thursdays, the eve of their Sabbath, (Friday, - _Djouma_;) when it was well combed with a large - small-tooth comb; and pardon me, but 'murder will out,' the - members of the vermin family which were removed from it were - legion. It was afterward well brushed with a hard hair-brush, - well damped with strong perfumed water. Their highnesses never - wore stockings in the morning, nor did they change any of their - attire till afternoon." - -When the summer heats set in, the harem was transferred to the -coast at Alexandria, to inhale the fresh breezes from the sea. -The preparation for flight was attended with some rich scenes and -ludicrous exhibitions. But their transit on the railroad, boxed -up like pigs or poultry on a cattle-train, is indescribable in a -decent print. The prelude to the trip will bear repeating; it is -an amusing contrast with the festal robes on the day of the Great -Bairam; the cutaneous sensation it excites is the penalty to pay -for the knowledge imparted; the company is right regal. - - "As soon as orders had been given to the grand eunuch to hasten - the departure of the vice-regal family to Alexandria, ... there - was bustle all day long. One morning when I returned from the - gardens, ... I entered the grand pasha's reception-room; ... - there were their highnesses, the princesses, squatted on the - carpet amidst a whole pile of trunks. They were all attired in - filthy, dirty, crumpled muslins, shoeless and stockingless; - their trousers were tucked up above their knees, the sleeves of - their paletots pinned up above their elbows, their hair hanging - loose above their shoulders, as rough as a badger's back, - totally uncombed, without nets or handkerchiefs, but, pardon - me, literally swarming with vermin! No Russian peasants could - possibly have been more infested with live animals. In short, - their _tout ensemble_ was even more untidy than that of - washerwomen at their tubs; nay, almost akin to Billingsgate - fisherwomen _at home_; for their conversation in their own - vernacular was equally as low. They all swore in Arabic at the - slaves most lustily, banged them about right and left with any - missile, whether light or heavy, which came within their - reach." - -At last the governess lost her health. The food was too -unsuitable for a Christian woman, and the atmosphere, redolent of -the overpowering rich perfumes of the gardens mingled with -sickening, stupefying opium smell and smoke, along with other -odors, almost intolerable. After visiting Constantinople with the -harem, she threw up her engagement and returned to England. - -This abasement of woman is not to be wondered at; for wherever -the Christian idea of marriage is lost or subverted, woman -becomes the mere object of passion, and degradation is sure to -follow. - ------------ - -{414} - - Translated From Etudes Religieuses, Etc., - Par Des Peres De La Compagnie De Jesus. - - The Flight Of Spiders. - - A Paper Read Before The French Academy Of Science, - March, 1867. - - -About fifteen years ago, I was sitting in an arbor of my garden, -reading, when a little spider fell on my book, whence I could not -tell, and commenced to run over the very line I was reading. I -blew hard to chase him away, but he would not go. He lifted -himself strangely up, and I cannot explain how, but he lodged on -a sprig of verdure just above my head. "Well," said I, "for a -little animal like that, this is a wonderful feat! How has he -accomplished it?" To satisfy myself, I took him up again, -balanced him on my book, and, after assuring myself that he had -no invisible thread to aid him, I blew again, and again the -little fellow did the very same thing. With redoubled curiosity, -I tried him once more, and, to see better, I sat down in the -bright sunlight. Again I balanced him on the book, looked at him -as closely as possible, and, when I felt assured no precaution -could have escaped me, I blew once more. ... Resuming the same -inclined position, the spider as quick as lightning darted the -finest possible thread out of him, raised himself in the air, and -disappeared. - -I confess I was stupefied. Never had I imagined these little -animals could fly without wings; so I consulted several works on -zoology, but I was astonished to find there was no mention made -of the flight of spiders, nor of the ejaculatory movement of -which I had witnessed so curious an example. [Footnote 96] - - [Footnote 96: In M. Eugène Simon's _Natural History of - Spiders_, the most recent work of the kind, he says, - speaking of the manner in which _l'épéire diadème_ - constructs its web: "Several authors suppose that the spider - darts its thread like an arrow, others imagine it throws it - upward in the air while flying as a fly would; but neither of - these explanations rests on observation, and they are, after - all, simple hypotheses." Then, describing his own observation - as to how a spider acts to make fast its great threads, he - says, "It seems to take a horizontal position, and moves - contrary to the wind." M. Simon's work gives us nothing else - to lead us to suppose he has observed the wonders spoken - of.--Tr.] - -So there was a new question presented to me, and my vocation to -study the habits of these little animals--which hitherto had -given me no concern--decided for me. I immediately lost all -repugnance, all distaste, and threw away all the unjust -precautions of which the spider is too often the object, and of -which I was as culpable as any one else. And from that time I -welcomed its appearance; was most happy to meet with it, looked -for it, indeed, and studied its habits almost with _furor_. -And I can say that, thanks to this hearty preoccupation, which -never left me, I found every opportunity to follow my -inclination, and knew where to find spiders in all sorts of -unheard-of places. - -Such are the singular effects of curiosity once excited, and -still another proof that, in order to study nature well, we need -only a mysterious glimpse of the unknown to redouble all our -energies to explain it thoroughly. - -And as in this study, trifling as it may appear, I seem to have -met with facts not known hitherto, but which deserve to be -understood, I here resume the principal ones: those that treat of -the flying of spiders; of the habitation of some species in the -air; and of the gossamer or air threads--a singular phenomenon, -for a long time discussed in vain, but which I believe I have -definitively solved. -{415} -I only ask the naturalists to judge one fairly, not by theory, -but by facts. And I am persuaded, if they will take the pains to -verify what I advance, they will find me exact; and, if they -begin doubtingly, I hope, after they have read my observations, -they will conclude as others to whom I have communicated them. -Mocking and incredulous at first, they have ended by believing -their own eyes, and testifying to the evidence presented to them. -May my labor prove useful, and, above all, contribute to the -glory of the great God, whose just title is, _Magnus in magnis, -maximus in minimis_. - - I. - - Threads Thrown Out By Spiders. - -The first thing that I perceived, and that put me on the track of -the rest, was, as I have just said, that the greater part of -_aranéides_, especially certain varieties of _thomises -lycoses_, etc., besides the thread that they always draw with -them, have the power of darting one or more of extraordinary -length, and of which they make use to accomplish distances, to -fasten their webs from one point to another, and even, as we -shall see further on, to raise themselves in the air and there to -seek their prey. The spider always points his abdomen to the side -where he wishes to go. The thread shoots like an arrow, fastens -itself by the end to the place destined, and the spider passes as -under a suspended bridge. If this thread is cut, it is -immediately replaced by another; and the ejaculation is so -prompt, so rapid, the thread so straight, so tenuous, so -brilliant, that it might be taken, if I may so express myself, -for the jet of an imperceptible ray of light. To perceive this -clearly, the spider must be held on a level with the eyes, which -should be shaded, and examined with one's back to the sun. - -The best time for such an observation is in the morning or -evening, when the sun is low in the horizon and the temperature -is mild; for without this latter condition the torpid spider is -more inclined to creep along the earth than to throw out new -threads. - -Sometimes, to excite them, they may be held by their ordinary -thread and gently shaken or blown upon--just a few puffs of -breath--which they detest. - -I have thus been able to scan closely, while watching their -development, this instantaneous jet of thread, which could not be -less than five or six yards long, that is, fifteen hundred or two -thousand times the length of the spider. What a tremendous -apparatus must be necessary to these little animals for so rapid -an ejaculation, and one so disproportioned to their size! And -especially if we consider that this thread, inasmuch as it -adheres to the animal, has not the appearance of an independent -organ, but seems solely to obey its will. Thus I have seen -spiders, who seemed to miss the end desired with the first -stroke, continue to hold the thread in the same direction, and -actually _palpitate_, if I may so say, while striving to -make it adhere. - -But a truly interesting sight, and one obtained at a very -trifling expense, is that which the _thomises bufo_ offer, -described by Walckenaer, in the first volume of his _History of -Insects_, page 506. In truth, these araneides do not only -throw out one thread, but an entire bundle of them, and are -seemingly guided by the smaller threads, just as a peacock -unfolds by degrees his splendid plumage. - -{416} - -And even in one's own room this sight may be enjoyed. It is only -necessary to collect these _thomises_ and keep them in -separate boxes, and nourish them in winter with one fly or so a -month. Then take the boxes out, put them on a table in a very -warm room, and sit a little in the shade and watch them. Very -soon from each box will appear a multitude of threads, of extreme -freshness and fineness, which the spider throws into the air with -inexhaustible profusion. At certain seasons of the year we can -enjoy this spectacle again, and at even less expense. - - - II. - - Flight Of Spiders. - -Another property not less remarkable that these araneides possess -(_thomises bufo, lycoces voraces_, etc.) is that of flying; -that is to say, of elevating themselves in the air, there -sustaining themselves, and travelling about horizontally and -vertically, with or without a thread; in a word, acting exactly -as if in their own element. This fact I have witnessed a thousand -times, and it has been certified to by a great number of people, -who, at first incredulous, and alarmed for the laws of -gravitation, were compelled to confess the reiterated testimony -of their own eyes. - -I had some pupils under my charge, and to them this study became -a continued source of amusement. During their recreation, they -found suitable spiders for me, and, when they brought them to me, -I rested them on my fingers and made them mount upward in the -air; and invariably, after having watched them for some moments, -they were entirely lost to sight. But when I made the -discovery--of which I will speak later--of the general migration -which some species make yearly toward certain regions of the -atmosphere, I had no longer any trouble to enjoy this performance -to my heart's content. - -The flight of spiders is sometimes very rapid, particularly when -they start. They often escape from one's hands while they are -carefully watched. This happened to me one day with a -_voracious lycose_ that I had for a long time importuned -without success. Just as I was going to give him up as entirely -stupefied, he suddenly escaped from me by a lateral movement, so -rapid that for a moment I lost sight of him; but, when I found -him a moment afterward, he was suspended quietly in the air. I -also remarked that he set out without throwing any thread, and -this was not the only time I made the same observation. I was -experimenting one day with some amateurs in the interior court of -the college where I live, and, having started a _lycose_, we -saw him occupy himself at first with the neighboring galleries, -running up and down for about twenty yards, about a tenth of a -yard from the arch, against which he knocked himself from time to -time, and groped about to look for a passage; not finding one, he -threw himself back into the court, raised perpendicularly, and -disappeared toward the clouds. His thread, if he had one, could -not have been longer than a tenth of a yard. Ordinarily, however, -before they ascend, they throw out a thread which they follow for -a short time; then, arriving at a certain height, they break it, -in order to navigate more easily. If any is left before them, -they wind it rapidly with their feet, throw it aside, and form -those pretty little crowns of white silk in form of -_cracknels_, that we often see flying in the air in time of -gossamers. Again, they balance themselves quietly with a thread -which rises perpendicularly above them, and gives them the -appearance of floating. - -{417} - -But a peculiarity still more remarkable in the flight of spiders -is the attitude that they take in flying. They generally swim -_backward_, that is to say, the back turned from the earth, -the feet folded on the corselet, and perfectly immovable. How can -such a flight be explained, for they are already heavier than the -air? Plunged into alcohol, they sink quickly; but in the air they -seem to possess an ease, a liberty, a facility of transport, so -admirable that I have never been able to see in them the -slightest motion, nor even an apparent increase of weight. Does -not this fact present an interesting question for the skilful to -contemplate? - - - III. - - How Long They Can Remain In The Atmosphere? - -At this portion of my history I have to relate facts the most -curious and unexpected; and, unfortunately for me, more true than -probable. I acknowledge I was loath to publish them, or assume -concerning them any responsibility. But I was firmly convinced, -and therefore hoped to be believed, especially by this generation -of fearless naturalists, who are astonished at nothing in nature, -and who, having often been surprised in the relation of almost -incredible marvels, must certainly make allowances for a few more -in another quarter. - -Let us look at, for instance, the wonderful things related of the -_argyronete_, or aquatic spider. [Footnote 97] - - [Footnote 97: The _argyronete_ is a spider that lives in - the water where she constructs a charming little edifice that - appears surrounded with a silky mortar. The down that covers - her contains a certain quantity of air for respiration. This - gives her in swimming the appearance of a ball of - quicksilver, from which we have her name.] - -I could not tell anything more unlikely, so I will only exact for -the atmosphere a companion to what the Père de Lignac discovered -in the last century for the water. Yes, I pretend there are -spiders that live in the air as well as those living in water, -and that every year, from the earliest days of spring, there is, -unknown to us, a general migration of spiders toward the -atmosphere, where they pass their best season, form their nets, -chase their prey, and only return to earth in the first fogs of -autumn to find their quarters for the winter. I add, also, that -this ascent and descent give rise to the curious phenomenon, -still so badly explained, of the gossamer. And as it was to the -study of this phenomenon that I owe my knowledge of the rest, may -I be permitted here, by way of demonstration, to relate briefly -the path I have followed and the proofs which have led to the -conviction I express? - -Attracted, as I was, by all that concerns spiders, I could not -remain indifferent to a fact so important and interesting as the -periodical apparition of those threads which in spring and autumn -we see flying about in long white skeins, clinging to trees, to -hedges, and to the vestments of the passers-by, carpeting the -country in a few hours with more silk, and finer and whiter, than -could be spun in a year by all the reels in the world. Admirable -netting, glistening in the light of the setting sun, and -reflecting the sweetest, softest tints of gold, vermilion, and -emerald, and receiving the pretty and poetical name of "_fils -de la Vierge_." Was there not between this phenomenon and my -preceding observations a secret tie, some mysterious relation? I -seemed to foresee it, and, setting to work immediately, rejected -from the very beginning the usual explanation of this phenomenon. - -{418} - -How, indeed, can we admit these floating gossamers as merely the -refuge webs of spiders, torn by the violence of the wind from the -trees and forests and carried capriciously through the air? Will -not the slightest observation convince us that they never appear -but in the calmest moments, on days foggy in the morning, but -afterward beautiful, and not preceding a storm; never in summer, -often in the spring and autumn, and sometimes even in winter? If -the winds carry them, why do they not appear in summer? Are -violent winds and spider-webs both wanting? And who has ever seen -one of these webs carried by a hurricane, especially in quantity -sufficient to produce such a phenomenon? For the fall of -gossamers sometimes lasts for almost entire days, and in certain -countries during the middle of the day the fields are covered -with them. Add, too, that violent winds are generally local, -while this phenomenon is universal, and so periodical that in the -same climates it appears at the same epochs, and, when one knows -what produces it, it is easy to predict the time and day of the -apparition. - -Discontented, then, on this point with books and their -explanations, I turn completely to the side of nature, and -present all I observed. - -From the first appearance of these threads in autumn, I was -struck with the immense multitudes of new spiders met with -everywhere, and which I had not seen during the summer. Little -brown _lycoses_ filled the air, so that it seemed as if it -had rained them. If one walked in the fields, the meadows, the -gardens, on the borders of the woods, among heaps of dried -leaves, scattered all through the forest everywhere, could be -seen myriads of these little brown spiders, jumping up and flying -before me in every direction, and exactly such as I had already -recognized as such excellent swimmers. After having passed the -winter in the earth, in the holes of worms that they completed -with a little silk, they reappeared after the cold in great -numbers, to disappear again entirely in the first bright days of -spring, and as if by enchantment. If one is seen again during the -summer, we may be sure it is some female retarded by laying her -eggs, and dragging laboriously her cocoon after her. Now, what -has become of the others? - -For several months I could not satisfy myself on this point, -when, on the 21 St of October, 1856, in the enclosure of the -little seminary of Iseure, near Moulins, I came to a positive -decision, I was observing the fall of a large quantity of -gossamers, which were falling on that day in large white flakes, -when I perceived close to me in the air one of those little black -spiders descending gradually, and as if she were jumping. She -held by an invisible thread to a large flake, which came down -slowly about seven or eight yards above her; but, keeping outside -of it, she hung by the end of the long thread, like an aeronaut -underneath his balloon. My attention once attracted, I noticed so -great a number that I was astonished I had not taken care sooner; -for there was scarcely a flake underneath which there were not -one or two, and this sometimes even before the flake itself was -visible. [Footnote 98] - - [Footnote 98: There is an observation which confirms my own. - We read in _Darwin's Journal_, page 159: "Mr. Darwin saw - a large number of gossamers on the ship Beagle, when she was - about 60 miles from the mouth of the Rio de la Plata. It was - the first of November, and these gossamers were carried by a - very light breeze, and on each were found an immense number - of little spiders, similar in appearance, about the twelfth - of an inch in length, and in color a deep brown. The smallest - were a deeper shade than the others. None were found on the - white tufts, but all on threads." _Journal of Researches - into the Natural History and Geology of the Countries visited - during the Voyage of his Majesty's Ship, the Beagle,_ - 1845.] - -{419} - -Each one was separated by a slender thread, and followed the -motion of its balloon. If they met a tree or a bush, they landed -upon it; if not, coming close to the earth, they ran along and -were lost in the verdure. If I approached them too quickly or -made a noise, they remounted rapidly by their threads and went to -disembark somewhere else. - -I also examined some of the flakes. They were all shining white -mats, appearing as if they had been washed. Several contained -wings and feet of flies, fragments of the case of little -coleoptera, and other remnants of their aerial festivities. - -This encounter was for me a revelation. I knew where the spiders, -whom I had seen disappear so brusquely, took refuge, and, however -rash my judgment may appear, I felt assured I had solved an -interesting problem. - -But to establish seriously and give to science an opinion so new -and original as that the atmosphere may be peopled with spiders, -I soon felt that more proof was necessary in order to sit down -calmly under my personal conviction. So I concluded I should not -be doing too much if I added to the verification of their descent -that of their ascension, and could surprise them in this new -migration. I waited, therefore, impatiently for the spring. - -But that spring, and for five or six that followed it, great was -my disappointment; for, though I perceived several isolated -ascensions, yet nothing in the proportion I had imagined or that -could justify my hypothesis. I began then to doubt seriously my -success, when an incident occurred that relieved my -embarrassment, and proved how trifling sometimes are the causes -which lift the veil from nature. I was looking straight upward, -but sitting close to the earth, and so as to be able as much as -possible to exclude the sun from my eyes. And here, by the way, a -fact is made palpable, by no means microscopic, but which has -escaped so long not merely the observation of the crowd of vulgar -observers, but of those even who are wide awake and study -carefully; namely, that it is not necessary to carry one's nose -always in the air, if I may so express myself, to examine -closely, to investigate, or to render a faithful account of -phenomena. - -On looking upward--as an ascension only takes place on very -beautiful days, succeeding generally to bad weather--spiders -cannot be distinguished from the multitude of other insects which -fill the air. But if, on a beautiful day, mild, calm, and -brilliant in sunlight, succeeding as nearly as possible to a rain -warm with the south wind, at about nine or ten o'clock in the -morning, a post is chosen on an eminence of a meadow or an -avenue, and there, as near the ground as may be, and crouching -low, the observer will look horizontally, he will perceive a -series of fire-works, formed of innumerable threads launched from -every direction and inclined toward the sky. This is the prelude. -Soon the spiders detach themselves and mount slowly by their -threads. The most conspicuous are the _thomises bufo_, -because they are the largest, and because they only ascend with -an entire bundle of threads, which gives them the appearance of -small comets. - -{420} - -Thus have I decided - -1st. That there is not only one ascension every year, but -several, at least partial ones; that they do not always take -place in spring, but often in the autumn, and sometimes even in -the winter; and in general, from the descent which has taken -place in the beginning of autumn until the definitive ascension -in the spring, there are but few favorable days of which the -spiders do not profit to make an aerial journey, or at least to -throw out a large number of threads. Thus, in the Beaujolais, -where I have lived for several years, there were partial -ascensions on the 1st, the 19th, and the 28th of November, 1864; -the 21st, the 23d, and especially the 25th of October, the 9th of -November, and the 6th of December, 1865. In 1866, the 18th and -the 30th of January, the 3d of February, the 3d, 14th, and 31st -of October, and the 17th of December. In 1867, the 10th of -February, ... the last, however, less considerable than might -have been predicted by the beauty of the day. The day previous -was so mild, though cloudy, that many of the spiders may have -embarked _incognito_. Many, also, may not have judged it -_a propos_ to fly away, for a great number still remained on -the ground. I forgot to observe the temperature of all the days I -have noted. The director of the Normal School of Villefranche -having had the kindness to show me the meteorological register -which he had kept with great care, I was able to prove that in -calm weather only ten or twelve degrees of heat were necessary to -induce them to mount upward. The least exposed begin; then -immediately the others, so soon as the heat reaches them; but -after three or four o'clock in the afternoon no more ascensions -are perceived, unless they are provoked; and this does not always -succeed, - -2d. Before taking their flight, they generally cling to some -elevated object that they meet with easily, such as shrubs, -bushes, props of vines, or blades of grass escaped from the -scythe. To these they affix their threads and warm themselves -well in the sun before commencing their excursion. This is the -happy moment for amateurs to make their observations, for there -is scarcely a blade of grass that does not contain one or more; -and, if the branches of young trees are suddenly struck with a -slight blow, a great number are detached, suspended at the end of -their threads; and very often rare specimens are thus found not -discoverable elsewhere. - - - IV. - - To What Height Do They Raise - Themselves in the Atmosphere? - -On this point I have not been able to make any direct -observation. Perhaps I have dreamed of offering objections to the -concourse of intrepid human navigators who undertake such -perilous excursions in the air, and for my interest in the study -I have found two excellent reasons. The first, that it would be -well for them to know that, if they have not had rivals, they -have had precursors, who, for 6000 years, have executed silently -and noiselessly what they have claimed for themselves by every -effort of puffs and publicity. The second, and a still more -serious objection and that I believe will truly interest the -future in this young industry, is that if the argyronete and its -bell has given to science the instrument with which the divers -explore the depths of the sea, why may not the study of aerial -spiders furnish for aeronauts--these divers in air--the complete -apparatus which they require to raise themselves to any height, -direct their movements, and maintain themselves at will? Have not -these little animals resolved this problem for centuries? Yet the -present state of aerostation does not afford ground sufficient -for comparison. - -{421} - -We are, therefore, reduced to conjecture; and, if I may be -permitted to express mine, this is what I think: - -I believe that spiders rise to the same height where on the fine -days of summer one can see the swallows and martins hover, almost -lost to sight, in pursuit of gnats that people these regions of -the atmosphere. I found this belief on the webs of spiders seen -falling in autumn, that seem to come at least from nearly such -heights. They begin to be seen at a hundred or a hundred and -fifty yards, and there is no great temerity in affirming that -they have already traversed a good part of their course. An -observation made in 1864, if conclusive, would tend to make -remoter still the habitation of spiders; for the fog that -determined the fall that year was a _high_ fog, that is to -say, one of those uniform mists that hide the sky for several -days together, and seem to extend to a great height. But, I -repeat, this is all conjecture. One good observation would have -been worth far more.' - - - V. - - Conjectures On The Mode Of Building - Of Spiders In The Air. - -Perhaps here I should stop, and, having stated facts, leave to -others their explanation. How do spiders sustain themselves in -the air? How can they so long brave the winds, the rains, the -storms; arrange their webs in emptiness and without apparent -means of support? Prudence counsels me to avoid these questions, -but my _rôle_ of simple observer permits them. However, in -waiting for better things, I decide still to hazard some -conjectures, were it only to prove that a fact once admitted, it -would not be absolutely impossible for the wisest to explain it. - -The first idea that came to me was that these spider-webs raise -themselves in the air as the kites of children, and, made fast to -the tops of trees and edifices by long threads, they are -sustained by their own lightness. This idea was suggested to me -by a sight I was witness to one day at the Seminary of Vals, near -Le Puy. From a corner where I was in shadow, I perceived -distinctly on each high ridge of the roof, lightened by the rays -of the sun, long threads which rose perpendicularly in the air, -like large cords, balancing themselves slowly right and left, -without ever going out of a certain field of oscillation. But I -soon gave up this idea. How admit, in truth, that on two or three -threads, and without any other means of support, spiders could -weave their true webs? Would not some of these aerial -constructions tumble down every day, ruined by their own weight? -while it is acknowledged they only fall in autumn, and always -together. - -I therefore rather incline to believe that the spiders are -sustained in the air by the distention of an interior vesicle, -analogous to that of fish, and that they ejaculate by their -threads, which are numerous, and pierced with an infinity of -little tubes, large bundles of threads, by which are taken the -insects that serve for their prey; that they resist the winds as -fish do the tossing of the sea, and their threads, being -glutinous, are not dampened by the rain; and also being excellent -conductors of caloric, as is proved by the abundant drops of dew -which they pearl near the earth, on the hedges, etc.; and if -after a calm night they are touched by an autumn fog, these heavy -and moistened threads weaken and fall one over the other, and -form the silky flakes that are seen from ten to eleven o'clock in -the morning, flying about in cloudy days with the spiders who -inhabited them during the summer. -{422} -This, hoping for better, is the explanation I hazard, and I -submit it with the rest to the appreciation of competent men. If -only these pages attract attention to a merited subject, and -provoke numerous observations, which alone can ever fully -elucidate it, the author will be more than repaid for the few -researches he has presented in this article. - --------- - - Translated From The "Revue Du Monde Catholique." - - John Tauler. - - By Ernest Hello. - - -History has an astonishing memory. She records the day and hour -of battles with exact fidelity. She knows a thousand things. She -has recently discovered, if I do not mistake, the name of Julian -the Apostate's cook. She remembers everything of little -importance. The names of celebrated mistresses who have amused or -poisoned renowned personages, are transmitted from age to age. -Erudition has been making strides during the last hundred years, -as if she had seven-leagued boots. To deserve the admiration and -gratitude of mankind, however, she should not have degraded -herself, but taken a higher sphere in her progress. Her memory -indicates greatness of genius; but she is like calumny, she -increases in size as she advances through the centuries. In her -labors, researches, and exploits, she has been mostly busied with -soldiers, and frequently forgotten God and man. She could not -think of everything at once; the hidden history of humanity is -yet to be written; the greatest events of the world are secret to -this very day; and those who reflect on them are men of a special -caste. - -If there were question of the battle of Marathon, or of Antony -and Cleopatra, our contemporaries would be found well instructed; -but do they know John Tauler, the German Tauler, of the Dominican -or preaching order? - -Master Tauler was a great preacher--powerful and popular. One -day he gave a learned discourse, in which he taught the way of -perfection, with all his characteristic assurance. To become -perfect, he enumerated twenty-four conditions, which he developed -before an attentive and brilliant audience. After the sermon, a -layman, one of the poorest and most ignorant of his hearers, came -to him. History, by one of those distractions so usual for her to -have, when there is question of God, has forgotten the name of -this individual. This simple layman said to Tauler: - -"Master, the letter kills, and the spirit gives life; but you are -a Pharisee." - -Doctor Tauler: "My son, I am now old, and no one has ever spoken -to me in this manner." - -The Layman: "You think I speak too bluntly to you; but it is your -own fault; and I can prove that what I say to you is true." - -Doctor Tauler: "You will do me a favor, for I have never loved -the Pharisees." - -{423} - -Then the layman, probing into the doctor's mental condition, -showed him that he was held captive by the mere letter of the -evangelical law, and devoid of its spirit. - -"You are a Pharisee," proceeded the layman, "but not a -hypocritical Pharisee. You are not on the road to hell, but on -that which leads to purgatory." - -Doctor Tauler embraced the man, and said to him: "I feel at this -moment as the Samaritan woman must have felt at the well; you -have revealed to me all my faults, my son; you have told all that -was most secret in my soul. Who, then, has told you? It is God; I -am convinced it must be so. I entreat you, my son, by the death -of our Lord, to be my spiritual father, and I, a poor sinner, -will become your son." - -The Layman: "Dear master, if you speak thus contrary to order and -reason, I shall not remain with you any longer, but straightway -return to my own house." - -Doctor Tauler: "Oh! no. I beg you, in the name of God, to stay -with me, and I promise not to speak thus again." - -The docility of Tauler is sublime and touching. His great good -will, which broke the pride of science, led him into the paths of -spiritual contemplation. - -"Tell me, I conjure you, in the name of God," said Tauler, "how -you have succeeded in arriving at the contemplative state?" - -The Layman: "You ask me a very odd question. I confess to you -frankly that, if I should recount or write all the wonderful -things which God has been doing to me, a poor sinner, for twelve -years, there would be no book large enough to contain them." - -The layman then recounted how he had been deceived in his -spiritual life; how, influenced by Satan, he had practised -imprudent austerities, which would have injured both his body and -soul; and how, warned by God, he had returned to the paths of -wisdom. - -Both Tauler and the layman were then lifted up to the regions of -contemplation. The unknown monitor then said: "If the God whom we -worship could be comprehended by reason, he would not be worthy -of our service." - -But before his great illumination, Tauler suffered during two -years frightful temptations. Abandoned, poor, suffering, that man -of iron was shaken like a reed. The layman comes to his -assistance, and sustains in his time of misery him whom he had -crushed in his period of pride. - -"For the first time," said the layman, "God has touched your -superior faculties." - -At the end of two years, the doctor again ascended the pulpit. -The crowd which came to hear him was large. Tauler cast his eyes -over the expectant multitude, then drew his cowl over his eyes -and prayed. - -The crowd awaited him; but he spoke not a word. Tears filled his -eyes and rolled down his cheeks. Tauler wept bitterly. - -What a scene! The audience become impatient. Some one asks Tauler -if he will preach. Tauler continues weeping. He wept and wept; -and the multitude, anxious to hear his inferior oratory, and -incapable of appreciating the higher eloquence of tears, could -not comprehend the doctor's conduct. At last Tauler dismissed the -assembly; for his sobs choked his utterance. He asked pardon of -the people for having kept them uselessly waiting; and they went -home. "Now," said some of them, "we see that he has become a -fool." - -{424} - -But after five days' silence, Tauler preached before the friars -of the convent, and he was sublime. One of the friars went to the -pulpit and addressed the congregation as follows: "I am requested -to make known to you that Doctor Tauler will preach here -to-morrow; but if he acts as he did last time, remember not to -blame me." "How will he succeed?" said one to another. "I do not -know," was the answer; "God knows." - -This time Tauler could control his voice, and _silence_ was -his theme. He had built his eyrie in silence, as an eagle on the -summit of a cliff. His language, worked out in silence, seemed to -long after it; to return to its home, and die away in the high -sombre clouds of complete solitude. Silence is the doctrine of -Tauler; his secret, his food, his substance and his slumber. -Absolutely free from all oratorical finery, his sermons go right -to the mark, without respect for conventionality or the cant of -ordinary discourses. He utters what he wishes to express; praises -solitude, and returns into it. This is the reason why his -external word takes nothing away from his interior recollection. -His words do not betray his soul. Silence is the guardian angel -of strength. - -It was doubtless this profound doctrine of silence which gave to -the eloquence of Tauler an extraordinary virtue. This man, who -seemed to come out of a tomb, appeared with a thunderbolt in his -hand. Fifty men, after the sermon, remained in the church as if -transfixed by an invisible hand. Thirty-eight of them were able -to move during the half-hour which followed; but the twelve -others could not stir. Tauler said to the unknown layman, his -adviser: "What shall we do with these people, my son?" The layman -went from one to the other and touched them, but they were as -immovable as rocks. - -Tauler was frightened at the paralysis which he had caused. "Are -they dead or alive?" said he to his friend. "What do you think?" -"If they are dead," replied the layman, "it is your fault, and -that of the Spouse of souls." - -This fact, which is historical, seems like a legend. - -This picture would be magnificent, if an artist should sketch it. -The place where Tauler had just preached was a cemetery, and the -twelve men who were lying on the ground in ecstasy resembled -those who slumbered in death beneath. The orator, walking with -his friend through the audience, who had become almost his -victims; feeling the pulse and the face of his hearers, to detect -in them after the sermon, as after a battle, some sign of life; -passing through the ranks of the vanquished and healing the -wounded, must have seemed something superhuman. At last the -friend of Tauler found that the thunderstruck hearers breathed -still, "Master," said he, "those men still live. Request the nuns -of the convent to take them away from here; for this cold floor -will injure them." One of the nuns, who was a listener to the -fearful discourse, had to be carried to her bed, where she lay -motionless. - -The biography of John Tauler, which serves as prologue to his -sermons, says nothing of his exterior life; but dwells specially -on his unhistorical and legendary character. Those who wrote -about him have not deigned even to inquire in what century he -lived. This strange man has dispensed history from its ordinary -inquiries, as if eternity had been the sole theatre of his -terrestrial existence. - -{425} - -His friends are as strange as himself. The astonishing layman, -who tells his name to nobody, and gives us no means of -discovering it, was not the doctor's only teacher. Another of his -instructors was a beggar, just as extraordinary. - -Tauler, according to Surius, petitioned God during eight years -for a master capable of teaching him the truth. One day when his -desire was more than usually strong, he heard a voice saying to -him, "Go to the door of the church. Thou wilt find there the man -whom thou seekest." He obeyed, and met at the appointed spot a -beggar, whose feet were soiled with mud, and whose rags were not -worth three half-pence. They began a dialogue, of which the -following is a portion: - -Doctor Tauler. "_Good_ day, my friend." - -The Beggar. "I do not remember ever to have had a _bad_ day -in my life." - -Tauler. "May God grant thee prosperity." - -The Beggar. "I know not what adversity is." - -Tauler. "Well, may God make thee happy!" - -The Beggar. "I have never been unhappy." - -Urged for an explanation, the mendicant affirms that, "by means -of silence, he had arrived at perfect union with God; never being -able to find pleasure in anything less than God." - -Tauler. "Whence comest thou?" - -The Beggar. "From God." - -Tauler. "Where hast thou found God?" - -The Beggar. "Where I have left all creatures." - -Tauler. "Where is God?" - -The Beggar. "In men of good will." - -Tauler. "Who art thou?" - -The Beggar. "I am a king." - -Tauler. "Where is thy kingdom?" - -The Beggar. "In my soul." - -We need often recall to our minds, in reading Tauler's life, that -he was really a man of flesh and bone, an historical personage. -Surius, Fathers Echard and Touron, have written his real life -circumstantially. He was born in 1294. He was an Alsatian. He -lived at Cologne, and died probably at Strasburg. We cannot fix -the date of his death. It happened May 17th, 1361, says Father -Alexander. Father Echard places it in the year 1379. Another -historian, M. Sponde, puts it in 1355. - -Let us now speak of his doctrine. - - - II. - -The doctrine of Doctor Tauler is the practice of divine union. -This union, transcending human thoughts and hopes, is the secret -of his life and the leading principle of his work. His sermons -are full of instruction regarding this union. - -His _Institutions_ also teach it. Some writers hostile to -Tauler pretend to have found in his writings the foreshadowing of -quietism. This mistake can be refuted in three ways: by the works -of Tauler, which always affirm human activity to the most -contemplative soul, thus clearly separating the doctrine of the -quietists from that of the German thinker. Secondly, Bossuet, -whom no one will suspect of any leaning toward quietism, says of -Tauler: "He is one of the most solid and exact of the mystical -theologians." Thirdly, Tauler himself predicted quietism in a -remarkable monograph, blaming strongly all that Molinos, Madame -de Guyon, and Fenelon afterward asserted. - -A close study of the Alsatian doctor shows that he always gives -to both internal and external activity all the reality and all -the rights which they possess. - -{426} - -"If any one," says he, "ascends to such a height of contemplation -as Saints Peter and Paul reached; and he perceives that a sick -beggar needs his help to warm his soup, or for any other service, -it would be much better for him to leave the repose of -contemplation, and aid the poor man, instead of remaining in the -sweetness of contemplative life." (_Institutions_, p. 195.) - -Here is the plain truth and no illusion. And elsewhere he writes: -"Men should not pay so much attention to what they do, as to what -they are in themselves; for if the core of their heart be good, -their acts will be so also without difficulty; and if their -conscience be just and right, their works cannot be otherwise. -Many make sanctity [to] consist in action; but action is not the -chief element in it. Holiness must be judged in its principle as -well as in its acts. In other words, we must be interiorly saints -before we can perform exterior holy actions. No matter how good -may be our works, they do not sanctify us as works. It is we, on -the contrary, who make them meritorious, in virtue of inner -sanctity which is their producing principle. It is in the bottom -of the soul that we find the essence of a just man." -(_Institutions_, p. 156.) - -Here is the truth again. Collate those two passages, after having -studied them separately, and you will find that they throw -complete light on the nature and value of human acts. - -The almost continual ecstatic state in which Tauler lived, never -made him forget his smallest duties. - -It has been often remarked that grace adapts itself to the -natural qualities of the individual whom it sanctifies. This is -as true of nations as of individuals. In Italy, asceticism has -the color of the sun. Italian ascetics shout, burn with ardor, -and seem full of exaggerated transports to the nations of cooler -blood. The landscape of Italian asceticism presents you a burning -sky, an ocean of fire, and a scorching earth. Sadness is -generally wanting. In Spain, the hue is more sombre. The same -ardor is there; but ardor tempered with jealousy. There is -interior disquietude in Spanish mysticism, and even adoration in -it examines itself as if suspicious of its truth. In Germany, -profound gravity and stern austerity lead the soul into a -horrible place. In Italy, images come crowding together, and -divine love, instead of rejecting them, embraces them. The soul -of the Italian saint holds garlands of flowers in his hands, -offering them joyously to the blessed sacrament. Familiarity and -adoration unite, like the two species of electricity before the -thunder-clap. Familiarity, wedded to adoration, appeared in St. -Francis of Assisi. The greatness of that strange man, who saw -brothers and sisters in everything, and conversed with water, -fire, the birds, and his monks, in the same tone and spirit, is -not immediately manifest to superficial minds. Plain good nature -veils his wonderful character. In Germany, those images which -poetry presents to love are accepted with great precaution. -Adoration is sober in thought and expression; and aspires to -something sublime, whose form and name are intangible. German -adoration is philosophical, meditative, broad, comprehensive, -austere, silent, wrapped up in herself, and self-sufficing. She -borrows only what is strictly necessary from persons and things. -The world is a servant which she employs only with regret. She -holds aloof from all creatures, and her words sound like -concession. She says to no one, "My brother," or "My sister." If -she had a brother. he would be silence. Her sister would be the -mist which surrounds God. - -{427} - -Tauler is one of the most majestic representatives of Teutonic -asceticism. - -A disciple of St. Dionysius the Areopagite and of that layman of -whom we have written, in the wake of those two great characters -he follows, with eye and wing of eagle, into the region of -translucent darkness. He does not flutter there, he _soars_; -or, if he flies, his motion is so high and rapid, that it seems -like the active repose of a sublime and fruitful immobility. - -Tauler seems to desire obscurity. The remarkable effects of his -preaching on his audience are less like thunder pealing in his -language, than like the awful presence of the sacred cloud where -the thunder is reposing. - -Every man is a universe in himself. Unity and variety are the two -terms of the antinomy, without which there is no life. But -perfection consists in equilibrium between those terms. Such -perfection is very rare. In general the antinomy of life is -replaced by the contradictory, which is death. Man is divided -between good and evil, always attempting an impossible -reconciliation between them. Contradiction is a dead force which -tries to serve two masters. An antinomy is a living force which, -having chosen a master, and obeying but him, desires to serve him -in a thousand different ways always useful. Nothing better -displays the unity of a landscape than the variety of colors -which it presents to the eye at the same time. The lights and -shades, the undulations of the soil, and the accidents of sun, -clouds, villages, forests, and spires, all are harmonized in the -eye of the spectator; and the more numerous, varied, and -unexpected are the details, the more does he experience delight -and a certain dilation of mind and heart in the contemplation of -their unity. If he takes away some of the circumstances, he mars -the effect of the whole; for he cannot even destroy a shadow -without diminishing the sunshine. What is true of a landscape is -also true of a book or a man. But Tauler lost the balance between -unity and variety, for he gave all to one and nothing to the -other. Few individuals, even among the greatest saints, have been -so ardent in the sentiment, love, pursuit, and conquest of unity. -He seeks after it incessantly, and it haunts him. He never seems -to look at the road he is travelling. He fixes his eyes solely on -the goal ever present to his soul. He turns neither to the right -nor the left. He knows not whether there be flowers or thorns on -the borders of his pathway. Do not ask him to imitate St. Antony -of Padua, and preach to the fishes of the streams. He minds -neither fishes nor birds. He seems to regard creation as a -stranger, of whom he had heard tell long ago, but whose -remembrance is now but faintly glimmering in his mind. - -His love of unity, his call to unity, his transports for it, -always take the same shape, the same key and accent; and produce -in the end a certain monotony, which is not a question of -doctrine, but an affair of nature and temperament. - -Tauler somewhere relates the history of a hermit, from whom a -troublesome visitor begged something that was lying in the cell. -The hermit went in to find the required object, but forgot at the -threshold what was wanted, for the image of external things could -not remain in his head. He went out, therefore, and asked the -visitor what he sought. The visitor repeated his petition. -{428} -The hermit re-entered his cell, but again forgot the request; and -was at last obliged to say to his guest: "Enter and find yourself -what you seek, for I cannot keep the image of what you ask for -sufficiently long stamped on my brain to do what you desire." - -Tauler, in narrating this story, unintentionally describes his -own character. In every one of his sermons, he chooses a text and -a subject. This was required by circumstances and by his -audience. But the moment he enters the cell of his contemplation, -he forgets text and everything else, and mounts into the realms -of sublimity where he loses himself in that supreme unity after -which his heart is always aspiring. The moment he begins to fly, -he forgets the course he must take. With one stroke of her wings, -his intellect finds her love, and then soars in her natural -element, with plumes unruffled. Far above modes and forms of -earth, she stretches out her broad wings in the cerulean vault of -her beloved repose. If any should then ask him about some -ordinary detail, he would certainly answer like the recluse above -mentioned: "Enter yourself, and find what you are inquiring -after. I cannot keep the image of material or minor things long -enough in my mind to fulfil your request." - -Tauler is continually citing Saint Dionysius the Areopagite. In -fact, these two great men are at home in the same latitudes. The -sermons of Tauler are to the works of the Areopagite what a -treatise of applied mathematics is to one on theoretical -mathematics. Tauler, like St. Dionysius, dwells in the interior -of the soul, that secret and deep abode, the name of which he is -ever seeking without finding, and which he ends by calling -ineffable as God himself. - -"It is in this recess of the soul," he preaches, "that the divine -word speaks. This is why it is written, 'In the midst of silence, -a secret word was spoken to me.' Concentrate then, if thou canst, -all thy powers; forget all those images with which thou hast -filled thy soul. The more thou forgettest creatures, the more -thou wilt become fit and ready to receive that mysterious word. -Oh! if thou couldst of a sudden become ignorant of all things, -even of thy own life, like St. Paul, when he said, 'Was I in the -body or out of the body? I know not, God knows it.'" ... "Natural -animation was suspended in him, and for this reason his body lost -none of its powers during the three days which he passed without -eating or drinking. The same happened to Moses when he fasted -forty days on the mountain, without suffering from such long -abstinence, finding himself as strong at the end as at the -beginning." - -The desire of Tauler that his hearers should become _Christian -children_, ignorant or forgetful of everything in sublime -ecstasy, shows plainly the nature of his charity. He wished for -them absolute perfection, contemplative and active, -transfiguration, transport, exactness, total accomplishment of -truth, and the plenitude of all heavenly things. The atmosphere -in which he lived favored his hopes and helped the efficacy of -his teaching. He declares that in the monastery when a soul is -suddenly called to some interior consideration, it can leave the -choir in the midst of the exercises, and plunge itself unseen -into the abyss of meditation to which God draws it. He also -affirms that when friars pass several days in ecstasy, they have -no reason to be disturbed at any irregularity of theirs which may -result from such an accident, provided they obey the rule again, -when they become masters of themselves. -{429} -Thus the prodigious transports of true asceticism are ever -strengthening; while those of false mysticism enervate the soul. -Hence it is that Tauler, though he is always speaking of -ravishments, never loses the character of force, and of that -austerity which is the sign of God and the test of true -contemplation. - -"Where then does God act without a medium? In the depths, in the -essence of the soul? I cannot explain; for the faculties cannot -apprehend a being without an image. They cannot, for instance, -conceive a horse under the species of a man. It is precisely -because all images come from without to the soul, that the -mystery is hidden from it; and this is a great blessing. -_Ignorance plunges the soul into admiration_. She seeks to -comprehend what is taking place in her; she feels that there is -something; but she knows not what it is. The moment we know the -cause of anything, it has no longer any charm for us. We leave it -to run after some other object; always thirsting for knowledge, -and never finding the rest which we seek. This knowledge, full of -ignorance and obscurity, fixes our attention on the divine -operations within us. 'The mysterious and hidden word' of which -Solomon writes, is working in our minds." (_Sermons_.) - -Many men of genius, from the beginning of the world, have studied -the human soul, and many are illustrious for the profundity of -their psychological researches. Yet compared to the great -mystical writers, those philosophers are mere children. Merely -human psychology skims over the surface of the soul, only -analyzing its relations to the interior world. They are ignorant -of the phenomena which take place in the secret recesses of the -mind. The great light, the incarnate Word, alone can throw its -rays into those abysses. It is remarkable that those who study -the soul for curiosity, merely to find out, and consecrate their -life to such investigations, discover very little. While those -who care nothing for simple science, but who act virtuously, obey -and glorify the Lord, see all things properly. Instead of aiding -vision to peer into the soul's _penetralia_, curiosity dims -the light. _Simplicity_ is the best torch in those -catacombs. _Simplicity_, commissioned by God, penetrates -into the abysses of the soul, with the audacity of a child sent -by its father. - -The interior and extraordinary efforts by which Tauler rose to -the height of contemplation, gave him, though he knew it not, an -astounding knowledge of the resistance which man makes to man and -to God; of our combats, defeats, and victories; and of those -artifices by which we veil from ourselves our true situation -during the battle. The rounds by which the soul ascends are -counted, and yet the ladder of perfection has no summit. - -The gospel, so merciful to sinners, vents all its wrath on the -Scribes and Pharisees. All its charity is for external enemies; -all its severity for interior enemies. Jesus Christ used the whip -once in his life to show men in what direction his indignation -was turned. We have Magdalen and the woman taken in adultery on -the one hand; the money-changers of the Temple, the Scribes and -Pharisees on the other. _There is a line of fire separating -sinners from the accursed_. All Catholic doctrine, all -ascetical tradition, is but the echo of Christ's mercy and -Christ's anger. Tauler teaches like all the great doctors, in -this respect. - -He reprobates exterior practices which are devoid of charity, as -the works of hell, most hateful to the Holy Spirit. The fixedness -of his ideas gives a singular solemnity to his repetitions. On -every page his hatred of works done without interior life shows -itself. -{430} -Such works are his abomination. In all his meditations, prayers, -experiences, and contemplations, he condemns them. "This -doctrine," says he, "ought to be attentively meditated by those -who torment and mortify their poor flesh, plucking out the bad -roots which lie hidden around the core of man's heart. My -brother, what has thy body done that thou shouldst scourge it in -that fashion? Those men are fools who act as if they wanted to -beat their heads against the wall. Extirpate thy vices and thy -bad habits, instead of tormenting thyself as thou dost." ... -"There are men in the cloister and in solitude whose soul and -heart are always distracted by a multiplicity of external things. -There are men, on the contrary, who in public places, in the -midst of a market, and surrounded by countless distractions, know -so well how to keep their heart and senses recollected, that -nothing can trouble their interior peace or injure their soul. -These deserve the name of religious far more than the former." -(_Sermons_.) - -Tauler goes farther. When those men who place God in external -acts remain apparently virtuous, "the Lord," says he, "turns away -from them. But when, in his mercy, he allows them to fall into -grievous exterior faults, then he returns to them and offers them -forgiveness." Tauler is always in the sky. He never stays long on -earth. "God," says he, "can unite himself to the soul simply, -immediately, _and without image_. He acts in the soul by an -immediate operation; he operates in the depths of the mind where -no image ever penetrates, and which are accessible only to him. -But no creature can do this. God, the Father, begets his Son in -the soul, not by means of an image, but by a process similar to -the eternal generation. Do you want to know how divine generation -takes place? God the Father knows himself, and comprehends -himself perfectly. He sees down to the very source of his being; -and contemplates himself, not by aid of an image, but in his own -essence. Thus he engenders his Son in the unity of divine nature. -In this manner also the Father produces him in the essence of the -soul, and unites himself to her." (_Sermons_.) - -All the discourses of Tauler end by a refrain. The chorus of his -song is ever divine unity. Tauler is hardly a man; he is a voice -speaking in the wilderness, calling men to descend into the -depths of their souls. All his doctrine may be resumed in this -word, to which we must give its etymological signification: -_Adieu, à Dieu_. [Footnote 99] - - [Footnote 99: The point of these words is untranslatable. The - sense is _adieu_ to creatures; and turn to God--_à - Dieu!_--[Translator's Note.]] - ------------ - - New Publications. - - - History of Civilization in the Fifth Century. - Translated, by permission, from the French of A. Frederick - Ozanam, late Professor of Foreign Literature to the Faculty of - Letters at Paris. By Ashley C. Glyn, B.A., of the Inner Temple, - Barrister-at-Law. London: W. H. Allen & Co. For sale by The - Catholic Publication House, 126 Nassau street, New York. - -{431} - -A work like this furnishes the best antidote to the poison -contained in the writings of such sophists and falsifiers of -history as Buckle and Draper. It substitutes genuine philosophy -and history for the base metal of counterfeiters. It exhibits -truthfully what Christianity--that is, the Catholic Church, which -is concrete, real Christianity--has done in creating the -civilization whose benefits we are now enjoying. The translator's -preface furnishes so interesting a sketch of M. Ozanam's life and -literary career, that we are sure of giving a great gratification -to our readers by transferring the greater portion of it to our -pages. - - "A few words may be said as to the career of the author, - Frederic Ozanam, whose name has not yet become widely known in - this country. He was born August 23d, 1813, at Milan, where his - father, who had fallen into poverty, was residing and studying - medicine. His mother, whose maiden name had been Marie Nantas, - was daughter to a rich Lyonnese merchant, and it was to that - city that his parents returned in 1816. The father obtained - there a considerable reputation as a doctor, and died from the - effects of an accident in 1837. His son pursued his studies at - Paris with great success, and was destined for the bar. He took - a prominent place in the thoughtful and religious party among - the students, and his published letters show how he became - identified with the movement set on foot by Lacordaire and - others. He was especially distinguished, however, by the - foundation of an association of benevolence, called the Society - of St. Vincent of Paul, which from its small beginnings in - Paris spread over France, and has at the present time its - conferences, composed of laymen, in all the larger towns of - Europe. M. Ozanam showed, even during his student life, a - leaning toward literary pursuits, and a distaste for the - profession of the bar, to which he was destined; but he joined - the bar of Lyons, obtained some success as an advocate, and was - chosen in 1839 as the first occupant of the professional chair - of Commercial Law, which had just been established in that - city. The courses of lectures given by him were well attended, - the lectures themselves were eloquent and learned, and M. - Ozanam seems to have preferred inculcating the science of - jurisprudence to practising in the courts. But in the course of - the following year, 1840, he obtained an appointment which was - still more suitable to his talent, the Professorship of Foreign - Literature at Paris, and which gave him a perfect opportunity - for the cultivation of his favorite pursuit, the philosophy of - history. Shortly after his appointment, M. Ozanam married, and - the remaining years of his life were spent in the duties of his - calling; in travelling, partly for the sake of health and - pleasure, partly to gain information which might be woven into - his lectures; and in visits to his many friends, chiefly those - who had taken an active part with him in upholding the - interests of religion in France. He never entered upon active - political life, though he offered himself upon a requisition of - his fellow-townsmen as representative of Lyons in the National - Assembly of 1848. In politics M. Ozanam was a decided liberal, - in religion a fervent Catholic. His letters show a great - dislike of any alliance between the church and absolutism, and - a conviction that religion and an enlightened democracy might - flourish together. He wrote in the _Correspondant_, which - embodied the newer ideas, and was frequently animadverted upon - by the _Univers_, which represented the more conservative - party in church and state. His more important works were - developed from lectures delivered at the Sorbonne; and his - scheme was to embrace the history of civilization from the fall - of the Roman Empire to the time of Dante. But failing health, - although much was completed, did not allow him entirely to - achieve the great object which he had originally conceived when - a mere boy; and the touching words in which he expressed his - resignation to an early death, when his already brilliant life - promised an increase of success, and his cup of domestic - happiness was entirely full, may be found among his published - writings. M. Ozanam seems to have continued his literary labors - as long as rapidly increasing weakness would permit, but after - a stay in Italy, which did not avail to restore his broken - health, he reached his native country only to die, September - 8th, 1853, in the fortieth year of his age, and the heyday of a - bright and useful career. He was lamented by troops of friends, - old and young, rich and poor--the latter indeed being under - especial obligations to his memory. His friend, M. Ampère, - became his literary executor, and undertook the task of giving - his complete works to the public, for which end a subscription - was quickly raised among those who had known and respected him - at Lyons and elsewhere. From the lectures which he had - completed and revised, from reports of others, and his own - manuscript notes, an edition of his complete works was formed - in nine volumes, comprising _La Civilisation au Cinquième - Siècle, Etudes Germaniques, Les Poëtes Franciscains, Dante et - la Philosophie Catholique au Treizième Sièle_, and - _Mélanges_, - to which were added two volumes of his letters. - -{432} - - "The work which has now been translated forms the first two - volumes of the above series, and was intended by the author as - the opening of the grand historical treatise which he had - designed. As it was delivered originally in the shape of - lectures, and preserves that form in the French edition, it has - been necessary, in order to preserve the continuity of the - historical narrative, to alter the constructions occasionally, - and to pass over a sentence here and there which refers solely - to the audience of students to which the lectures were - originally addressed." - ---- - - The Illustrated Catholic Sunday-School Library. - First series of 12 volumes, pp. 144 each. - New York: The Catholic Publication Society, - 126 Nassau street. 1868. - -This is the initial set of a New Illustrated Catholic -Sunday-School Library, now in preparation by the Catholic -Publication Society. It contains 12 handsome volumes, put up in a -neat paper box. The titles of the volumes in this, the first -series, are as follows: - _Madeleine, the Rosière;_ - _The Crusade of the Children;_ - _Tales of the Affections;_ - _Adventures of Travel;_ - _Truth and Trust;_ - _Select Popular Tales;_ - _The Rivals;_ - _The Battle of Lepanto and The Relief of Vienna;_ - _Scenes and Incidents at Sea;_ - _The School-Boys and The Boy and the Man;_ - _Beautiful Little Rose;_ - and _Florestine, or Unexpected Joy_. -From the above list it will be seen that the set comprises -fiction, history, and adventures. This set of books has been -selected with an eye to give our Catholic youth useful as well as -entertaining reading. The illustrations are good, but might be -better--however, they are a great improvement on the class of -illustrations heretofore printed in our Catholic books. The type, -paper, and binding are excellent. We hope these books will be -extensively used as premiums in our schools, as well as find a -place in every Catholic library in the country. - ---- - - Assemblee Generale Des Catholiques en Belgique. - 27 Sept., 1867. Bruxelles: Devaux. - -This large volume of 900 royal octavo pages, which has been just -received from M. Ducpetiaux, of Brussels, is a complete record of -the transactions of the late Catholic Congress of Malines. Among -other things it contains the complete report of F. Hecker on the -state of Catholicity in the United States, correctly translated -into French. It is truly surprising to see what an immense amount -of business can be transacted in one week, when all are intent -upon doing the work in hand, and nothing else. Some of our -legislators might learn a valuable lesson in this regard from -this volume. The noisy and vulgar writers for the newspapers, and -the other clamorous declaimers in speech and print, who are -constantly repeating their hoarse outcry of ignorance and -superstition against the Catholics of Europe, would be completely -silenced and put to shame, if that were a possible thing, if the -records of the Congress of Malines could be placed in the hands -of all their intelligent readers. We may safely challenge the -world to produce another similar volume, bearing so clear an -impress of intelligence, good taste, patriotism, philanthropy, -and religious zeal as this. Give us only a sufficient quantity of -Catholicity like this, and we will renovate the earth. - ---- - -Received from Kelly & Piet, Baltimore: - - _The Ghost_; a comedy in three acts. Taken from the - French. Pp. 50. Price, 50 cents. - - _The Banquet of Theodulus; or, The Reunion of the Different - Christian Communions._ By the late Baron de Starck. New - edition. Pp.204. Price, $1. - - From H. M'Grath, Philadelphia: _White's Confutation of the - Church of Englandism, and Correct Exposition of the Catholic - Faith_. Translated from the Latin by E. W. O'Mahony. 1 vol., - pp. 342. New Edition. Price, $1.25. - ---- - -"The Catholic Publication Society" has in press, and will soon -publish, the second series of the new _Illustrated Catholic -Sunday-School Library_, and a new edition of _Moehler's -Symbolism; Problems of the Age, Nellie Netterville_, and _A -Sister's Story_ are now being printed, and will be ready in a -short time. - ----------- - -{433} - - THE CATHOLIC WORLD. - - Vol. VII., No. 40.--July, 1868. - - - A Plea For Liberty Of Conscience. - - -Foreseeing that we shall be obliged, in this present article, to -present some very unpalatable truths to a portion of our readers, -we assure them in the outset that we do not wish unnecessarily to -revive unpleasant recollections. - -Facts are facts, however, history is history, and truth is truth; -and so long as we do not cherish a malevolent spirit, or seek to -embitter and envenom the minds of our fellow-men against each -other, there is no reason why we should not have liberty to speak -plainly, even about very ugly and very discreditable things. On -the present occasion, we use this liberty in defence of the weak -and defenceless against tyranny and oppression, in defence of the -rights of conscience and religious freedom in the case of a -considerable number of persons grossly disregarded and violated. -The right which we undertake to defend is the right to embrace, -profess, and practise the Catholic religion; and the wrong which -we wish to contend against is the system of domestic and social -tyranny by which this right is impeded. It may appear to some a -very curious statement, yet we venture to make it boldly, that in -every part of the world where the English race is dominant, -Catholics have been engaged, ever since the era of Protestant -ascendency, in a struggle for liberty of conscience against -spiritual tyranny, either political, social, or both combined. We -do not propose to go back to the period of penal laws, civil -disabilities, and legal persecution in Great Britain and America, -just at present. This is a chapter in history already tolerably -well elucidated and likely to be still further commented upon in -the future. We will let it pass, however, for the present, and -confine our view to a more recent period, during which, -theoretically speaking, in England Catholics have enjoyed full -toleration, and in the United States equal liberty with other -citizens. - -Notwithstanding this theoretical liberty. Catholics have been -exposed, as every one knows, to outbreaks of popular violence, in -which their blood has been shed, their churches and other -property burned and destroyed, and their religion made the object -of denunciation, vituperation, and ridicule in a wholesale -manner. -{434} -The primary cause of this state of things is to be found in the -representation which Protestant preachers and writers have made -of the Catholic religion. On this head we will content ourselves -with quoting the language of a Protestant clergyman, the Rev. -Leonard W. Bacon, of Williamsburg, L. I., which we have just seen -in a report of one of his sermons published in the _Brooklyn -Times_ for March 17th, 1868: - -"The duty of considering the question now submitted to us has -required me to stand before shelves filled with volumes of -antipapal literature, and to glance from page to page of its -contents. The character of much of that literature is a shame and -a scandal to the cause in which it is uttered. It is full of evil -and uncharitable talk against Romanists and their clergy, and -deformed with bad temper and bad logic and reckless assertion." A -few sentences further on he designates a certain class of writers -against the Catholic religion as the "scurrilous crew of -antipopery-mongers, who make a trade of the prejudices and -passions of the American public, feeding them with vituperation -and invective." - -This description applies to a class of writers in England and -Ireland equally as well as to the class designated among -ourselves. We pass over all that the general body of the Catholic -clergy and people have had to suffer from the general prejudice -against them created and excited by the calumnies and invectives -of these writers and declaimers against their religion. We fix -our attention upon one point only, what those persons have had -and still have to suffer from this prejudice who have become -Catholics from conviction and choice, or who have wished to do -so, and would have done so, had they not been deterred by the -violent opposition they have encountered. - -In England, a little stream of reconversion began to set back to -the ancient church during the cruel and despotic reign of -Elizabeth, which continued to run during several succeeding -reigns, but at last was either totally or almost dried up. Its -source received a new supply through the influence of the French -clergy who were refugees in England, and at length the current -began to flow more fully and strongly than ever. Within the last -twenty-five years the movement of return to Catholic unity has -been steadily progressing, until it has become so considerable as -to attract universal attention, and awaken general anxiety -concerning its probable results. In the United States, a few rare -and isolated instances of conversion occurred from time to time -during the early part of the present century, which have become -much more numerous within the past twenty-five years, from -various causes which we need not specify. At present, there are -probably fifty thousand converts within the fold of the Catholic -Church of this Republic, a great many more who would gladly -become Catholics if there were no sacrifices to be made in order -to do so, and an indefinite number of persons who are more or -less favorably predisposed toward the Catholic religion or -partially convinced of its truth. From the first day on which -these strayed children of the holy Mother Church began to retrace -their steps to her blessed fold to the present moment, there has -been essentially the same story to tell of the disregard and -violation of that liberty of conscience and right of religious -freedom which Protestants have been so loudly proclaiming ever -since they have had existence. -{435} -In the earlier period of this disastrous epoch, some have -suffered a literal martyrdom, and all along, down to the present -time, many others have endured a moral martyrdom which is perhaps -harder to bear as well as more lingering in its agony. Very many -have needed a virtue and constancy truly heroic or bordering on -the heroic, in order to nerve themselves to the sacrifices and to -push through the opposition which they have been forced to -encounter as the condition of becoming members of the Catholic -Church and following the voice of their reason and conscience. - -Those whose memory goes back over the last twenty or twenty-five -years, can recall the storm of indignation and obloquy evoked by -the first remarkable conversions which took place as the sequel -of the Catholicizing movement originating at Oxford. As a general -rule, the converts in England, even though belonging to the -highest classes in society, including the nobility, and well -known for their exemplary moral character, found themselves -ostracized from the circles in which they had been wont to move, -shunned by their most intimate friends, in many instances -excluded from intercourse wholly or in great measure with the -members of their own families. Some persons of high rank were -obliged to go abroad, in order to find the society of persons of -their own class which they needed for themselves and their -families. It was the same in our own country. A convert to the -Catholic Church found himself treated as an individual who had -abjured Christianity, engaged in a conspiracy against his country -and the human race, or as if he had been detected in perjury or -forging notes. Every one was speculating upon the motives and -cause of his strange conduct, as they have been recently, in -England upon the Rev. Mr. Speke's sudden disappearance and -mysterious rambles. Insanity was the most frequent and the most -charitable reason assigned for an act generally considered as -utterly unreasonable and disreputable. Some were excluded from -the bosoms of their own families; some were disinherited by those -whose heirs of blood they would have been; and others, who were -helpless, dependent persons, were thrown upon the world by near -and rich relations, who had hitherto supported them, and would -gladly have continued to do so had they consented to smother -their consciences. Some have been thrown out of business and -employment, reduced to straits in order to gain a living, or even -to extreme poverty and suffering. We do not allude now to those -Protestant clergymen with families who have resigned their -benefices in the Church of England, or given up their salaried -offices in the Protestant Churches of the United States. The -sacrifices made by these individuals, although very great, were -unavoidably necessary, and cannot be attributed to any injustice -or illiberality in the Protestant community. But we refer to -those cases where persons have been deserted and abandoned by -those on whose previous good-will, patronage, or custom they had -been dependent for the means of gaining their living, for no -other reason than the simple fact of their becoming Catholics. We -may add to these more serious matters the infinitude of petty -grievances and annoyances to which many persons are subjected by -their relatives and friends. Their religion is attacked and -ridiculed, without regard to the proprieties of polite -intercourse, as if a Catholic were out of the category of persons -whose convictions and sentiments are entitled to respect. -{436} -Obstacles are placed in the way of their fulfilling the duties of -their religion. Their children are enticed to eat meat on days of -abstinence, to attend Protestant churches, to read anticatholic -books, to shun the society of Catholics, without regard to the -conscience of the child or the authority of the parent. Every -possible influence is brought to bear upon them to make them feel -that their religion places them at a social disadvantage, and -that Protestantism is more genteel and respectable. In short, if -we try to imagine the state of things which converts to -Christianity had to struggle with in Rome and the gentile world -after the laws had ceased to persecute, but before the Christian -religion had ceased to be a despised and unpopular religion, we -shall have a very good counterpart of the present condition of -Catholic converts in England and the United States. - -The trials and difficulties of those who are on the way to the -Catholic Church are even greater than those which have to be -encountered afterward. Not to speak of the interior trials which -are necessarily involved in the process of conversion, even for -those who are perfectly free and independent, or even placed -under influences which facilitate the transition to Catholicity, -there are exterior difficulties in the case of most persons of -the gravest and most distressing nature. Besides the opposition -of relatives and friends, in the shape of argument, entreaty, -expostulation, sorrowful disapprobation, which is the more -painful and the harder to be overcome the more kind and -affectionate it is in manner and spirit, the dread of wounding -and grieving those who are dearest and most respected, -disappointing their hopes and incurring their displeasure, there -is often to be encountered the might of spiritual tyranny, the -violence of a parent's or husband's despotic will, and, in short, -a _persecution_ worse to be borne than would be a summary -trial and execution. Unhappily, these trials are often too great -for the courage of those who have received the inward vocation to -the Catholic faith, and who are required to undergo so much if -they would follow it. Some are afraid of losing caste, some of -being turned out of doors, some of losing their livelihood; -others are afraid of encountering the anger and reproaches of -their friends, or the scorn and calumny of the world, or the loss -of popularity. There are those who are deterred by their dainty -and fastidious dislike of mingling with the poor, and who cannot -bring themselves to go to a church which is humble or mean in its -appearance, to receive the sacraments from a priest of unpolished -exterior. But these last have themselves only to blame, although -we may commiserate their weakness, and lay the chief blame of it -on the false maxims prevalent in the community at large. - -It would be easy to cite numerous instances in illustration of -all that we have just said upon this subject, from personal -knowledge or the testimony of others; and if it were possible for -the complete history of the conversions to the Catholic Church -which have occurred during the last quarter of a century to be -written and published, it would be, for the most part, only an -extensive commentary upon the statements we have made. Even then -the saddest part of the story must remain untold, unless all -those who have been deterred from obeying the voice of conscience -could be induced to publish their confessions to the world, and -those who have died in perplexity and distress for the want of -those sacraments which their own cowardice or the refusal of -their friends prevented them from receiving, could come back from -the grave to add their testimony to that of the living. - -{437} - -The writer of these pages was acquainted with a gentleman of -eminent position in the world, who was for a long time a Catholic -at heart, and who on his death-bed desired to see a priest with -whom he was intimately acquainted, that he might receive the last -sacraments from his hands. This priest, who was a man of the -greatest dignity of character and universally venerated in the -community, called at the house several times, was politely -received, but never permitted to see the dying man. When the poor -old man perceived his last hour drawing near, he called his -faithful Irish nurse to his bedside, as the only true friend to -whom he could open his grief, and confided to her the sorrow that -was darkening his dying moments. He told her that he desired to -see a priest, to make his confession and to receive the last -sacraments, but that his request was denied, so that he had given -up all hope of his salvation, and believed himself doomed to die -in despair. The good girl comforted and soothed him, assured him -that he need not distrust the mercy of God, and explained to him -that in his case a perfect contrition for his sins would suffice -for their full remission. He begged of her to teach him how to -make the acts of faith, hope, charity, and contrition, to recite -prayers by his side, and to help him to prepare for death. She -did so, and through her holy ministrations his soul was -tranquillized, so that he died in peace. - -The writer was once sent for by a man of unusual intelligence and -plain, respectable standing, who was in reduced circumstances, -and dying of a slow consumption. He learned from the lips of this -man that he had been for some time perfectly convinced of the -truth of the Catholic religion, and was satisfied that it was his -duty to be received into the church. Nevertheless, it was -impossible to persuade him to act on his convictions, because he -was sure that the assistance of certain societies, upon which his -family depended, would be withdrawn. He hoped to recover, and -promised that, if he did, he would profess his faith openly; but -we never heard anything more from him, and have never heard the -conclusion of his sad history. - -It is but a few months since a young widow lady, a convert, was -turned out of house and home, not very far from our own city, -after the decease of her father, with whom she had been residing, -by her own brother, for the sole reason that he did not wish to -live in the same house with a papist. We will not multiply -instances; but they will rise up in abundance before the memories -of many who will read these pages; and if a recording angel could -take down what will be remembered, thought, and felt by all whose -eyes will peruse these lines, they would be transformed from a -brief and tame summary into a whole volume of living and pathetic -interest far surpassing the most thrilling tales of fiction; -Tears will be shed, sad memories will throng upon many minds, -many hearts will ache, we are assured, over the words we are -writing in perfect calmness and composure, and without any direct -intention of awakening emotion. Some will think of trials past, -some of trials present, and others will recall to mind their own -weakness and timidity in the hour when they were tried and found -wanting. -{438} -There are many others, however, and will be many more hereafter, -to whom this plea for the liberty of conscience will be, as we -cordially trust, not merely a subject of personal interest, but -also a practical help in surmounting their difficulties. We -allude to those who are now turning or who will hereafter turn -their faces wistfully toward the Catholic Church, but have first -to overcome the obstacles we have described above before they can -enter its portal. For this class of persons we have the most -profound sentiment of pity and sympathy. The rich and -independent, the able-minded and able-bodied, who can take care -of themselves, men who can assert their own rights, and those -generous youths to whom a glorious career is open in the -priesthood, do not claim our sympathy, for they do not need it. -But we pity the helpless and dependent; those who struggle with -poverty and live on the bounty of others, delicate, gentle women, -and all the weak, feeble children of God who would fain follow -their conscience if they were let alone and not interfered with, -but who shrink back appalled when it is a question of nerving -themselves to meet opposition and push their way through trials. -It seems to us that there is something hard and cruel beyond all -other forms of tyranny in that usurped, unjust despotism which is -exercised over these tender consciences. What can be a more -odious or flagrant violation of all right and justice than to -attempt to crush a conscience by force, to quell it by threats, -to wear it out by opposition, to stifle it by fear, or to lure it -by selfish, temporal interests? All will answer this question -alike, and admit, at least in theory, the wrong that lies in the -attempt of any person to violate the rights of any other person's -conscience. The only point really open to discussion is, What -constitutes a violation of just and rightful liberty of -conscience? The question respecting the right or expediency of -enforcing obedience to the dictates of conscience and the -fulfilment of certain moral obligations is quite a different one, -though closely related to the antecedent question. We cannot, in -arguing with non-Catholics on these points, assume the truth of -Catholic principles, or urge any consideration which necessarily -presupposes the Catholic religion to be the true one. Of course, -in the last analysis, we must come back upon the fundamental -principle that the law of God is supreme and must be obeyed at -all hazards, let come what will. No matter what human laws, what -private interests, what dreadful penalties, may stand in the way, -God must be obeyed, conscience must be followed, duty must be -done. The authority of the state must be braved, human affections -must be disregarded, life must be sacrificed, when loyalty to the -truth and to the will of God requires it. Those who reject the -authority of the Catholic Church, however, do not admit that the -Catholic law is the law of God; and we must therefore either make -our sole issue with them on this precise point of the truth of -the Catholic doctrine, which is the same thing as a declaration -of perpetual war, or we must find some middle term common to -both, upon which the peace of social relations can be settled and -the mutual rights and liberties of conscience be secured. We are -obliged, therefore, to waive all claim of right and liberty to -practise the Catholic religion, which is based on its positive -truth, so far as this argument is concerned, and to present only -such claims as a fair-minded person, whether Protestant, Jew, or -infidel, may admit as just and reasonable, without changing in -the least his own particular opinions. -{439} -It is not to be expected that all our arguments will be equally -applicable to every class of persons, whatever their religious -opinions may be; but we will endeavor to furnish at least one or -two for each of the principal classes into which the non-Catholic -community is divided. If some of our Catholic readers are -offended by our seeming to take a tone too apologetic and -defensive, we beg them to remember that the early Christian -apologists were not ashamed to do the like. They vindicated the -Christians of their own time from such accusations as worshipping -an ass's head and drinking the blood of infants. It is painful -and humiliating to be obliged to vindicate ourselves from gross -calumnies; but it is an act of charity toward those who are -deceived by these calumnies, and still more toward these helpless -and defenceless persons who must suffer from them. - -We begin on the lowest possible ground by affirming that a person -in becoming a Catholic commits no offence against the laws of -morality or against the civil and social laws commonly recognized -among non-Catholics. There is no treason against society, no -offence against domestic rights, no repudiation of any moral -duties or obligations, nothing to make a person a bad citizen, a -bad neighbor, a bad husband, wife, or child. There is no -disobedience against any lawful external authority which has any -right to inflict any penalties affecting a person's social or -civil rights. There is no reason, therefore, why a person who -embraces the Catholic religion should be treated by his -acquaintances or society in general as a criminal, and made to -suffer in his social and domestic relations. In our heterogeneous -society, everything is tolerated which is not _contra bonos -mores_. That which strikes at the order and peace of the -natural relations binding us together in society cannot be -tolerated even on the pretext of liberty of conscience or -opinion. Therefore, Mormonism has no rights under our laws, and -ought not to be tolerated, and Mohammedanism could not be -tolerated. If the Catholic Church were really what it has been -represented to be by many, it could not claim liberty or even -toleration in non-Catholic states. But it is not what its enemies -have represented it to be. A person who becomes a consistent -Catholic will be a good citizen and respect the laws. He will be -faithful to his social and domestic duties, and strictly -observant of all moral obligations. It is not the spirit of the -Catholic religion to introduce discord or trouble into families -or societies, or to interfere with any just and lawful rights. -The only annoyance which can arise will be the annoyance which -persons wishing to violate the natural laws will meet with from -the conscientious observance of morality by the Catholic party. -Suppose a Catholic lady wishes to go to Mass, to confession, to -devote a part of her time to meditation or charitable works? Does -that necessarily interfere with the perfect fulfilment of all her -duties toward her family and society? Is it any greater liberty -than that which women generally expect to be conceded to them, -and which they take at any rate, whether it is granted with a -good or a bad grace? Let the question be decided by the actual -conduct of those who have become Catholics in their relations -with others who are not of their faith, and we are not afraid of -the judgment which candid and fair judges will render. Certainly, -then, they ought to enjoy the same liberty which is conceded to -those who profess any other form of religion not contrary to the -received standard of good morals, and to those who profess none -at all. -{440} -Those who profess the latitudinarian opinion that all religions -are alike, and who claim unbounded liberty of opinion for all, -ought to be the first to give to Catholics the full benefit of -this privilege. - -With those who are more strongly attached to their own form of -religion and hold it to be the only true one, the case is -somewhat more difficult. Such persons may say that a person -brought up in what they call the true, Evangelical, reformed -faith, or in the pure, apostolical, Protestant Episcopal Church, -especially if he has been a communicant, and most of all if he -has been a minister, is an apostate from his faith as a -Christian, a renouncer of his baptism, and therefore a criminal -before God and the church, if he, to use their language, becomes -a Romanist. Let it be so. When argument and persuasion have been -tried and have failed, let the church pronounce her spiritual -censures on the disobedient member. We cannot complain of that. -Let him be canonically deposed if he is a minister. We cannot -complain of that, either. But is there any reason why our -Evangelical or High-Church friends should think it necessary or -expedient to proceed any further? Suppose they do regard the -person in question as a delinquent and as an unfortunate dupe of -error and delusion. Will our Evangelical friends affirm the -principle that none but the elect are entitled to the rights and -privileges arising out of natural and social relations? Will our -High-Church friends affirm the same, substituting for the elect, -consistent members of their own communion? If not, we cannot see -why they may not allow Catholics the same indulgence which they -concede to sinners, heretics, and infidels. We put them the plain -question, whether they have any right to interfere with the -conscience and the religion of another, or to use any kind of -coercion or persecution against any one, whatever may be the -relation in which he stands toward them. Some of them may perhaps -deny that a well-instructed member of that which they deem to be -the true church can become a Catholic conscientiously and -sincerely. But suppose it is so. Where is the authority to compel -him to fulfil his conscientious obligations of a purely spiritual -nature? We are not now speaking of young children who have not -attained to years of full discretion, over whom parents certainly -have an authority which must be respected. But, apart from this -exception, what authority can be claimed for enforcing any -religious obligation by any other means than an appeal to the -conscience itself? If there are any who really think there is a -right of excommunication in their church which extends so far as -to exclude a person from his privileges as a member of society, -and to reduce him to the state of one who is _vitandus_, or -an outcast to be shunned by all, we only desire that they will -act out their doctrine impartially and universally. Is it not, at -least, _inexpedient_ to appeal to it in the present state of -society, while no kind of disability is contracted by those who -profess the principles of Bishop Colenso or Herbert Spencer? - -The case may be supposed of persons, influenced by no ill feeling -at all, who would desire to withdraw from all intimacy with -relatives or acquaintances who have joined the Catholic Church, -on the ground that their conversation and influence may be -dangerous to young persons in the family. Such a motive as this -we can respect, for we can and must respect fidelity to -conscience, even when it is an erroneous conscience which is -followed. -{441} -Moreover, no one is bound to keep up any intimate relations which -transcend the bounds of ordinary courtesy with any persons -outside the immediate family circle, unless it is agreeable to -himself to do so. But what is to be said of those who, on a plea -of conscience, sunder the closest bonds of nature, or threaten to -do so? We can easily understand that a Jew, a Puritan, an -old-fashioned Lutheran, a Presbyterian, or an English Churchman -might be so thoroughly absorbed in his religion, and so intense -in his attachment to it, that the conversion of a wife or child -to the Catholic Church would be a far worse blow to his -affections, and a more blighting disappointment to his hopes, -than would be the sudden death of either one, however tenderly -loved. An intelligent Jewish gentleman once told the writer of -this article that he was deterred from receiving Christian -baptism by the fear of causing the death of his aged father; and -this is not an unusual instance either among the descendants of -the ancient Pharisees or the adherents of the "straitest sects" -of Protestant Christians. In such cases, where no softening of -the temper and no modification of the mental condition takes -place, there is no room for argument. The word of our Lord must -be fulfilled--that he came not to bring peace, but a sword. One -who has to choose between submission to the will of another and -the disruption of the most sacred human ties, must choose the -latter when the former involves the violation of a certain and -known law of God. There is, therefore, no other course open to a -Catholic in such a case except the one of professing and -practising the Catholic religion openly, without regard to -consequences. If they are excluded from their homes and abandoned -by their friends, they must try to bear it patiently. We would -scorn to appeal to the mere sentiment of human pity or to the -maxims of indifferentism, in arguing with any man who should say -that his religious principles require him to banish a wife, a -son, or a daughter out of his house. It is our opinion, however, -that in most instances, after persons have had time for cool -reflection, they will not deliberately affirm that their -religious principles do require these harsh measures. No one will -pretend that they require or authorize any kind of tyrannical or -vexatious persecution, or an abandonment of those who have a -natural claim to protection to poverty and suffering. We are -disposed to think that prejudice, passion, wounded pride, and -similar causes have a great deal to do with the line of conduct -alluded to. And one good reason for thinking so is the fact that -so many firm and consistent Protestants, and even bishops or -other clergymen of standing, have acted differently, and have -treated Catholic converts even of their own families with -kindness and courtesy. We have supposed hitherto that we were -arguing with a person who would not admit that a convert from the -religion he himself professes can be sincere and conscientious. -It is impossible, however, to sustain such a position on any -ground which the majority of intelligent non-Catholics will admit -to be reasonable; for it can be sustained only by one of three -arguments. First, that the illumination of the Holy Spirit gives -to the individual reason an infallible certainty of the truth of -some one form of anticatholic belief. Or, second, that some such -form is at least made morally certain by rational evidence of -such a kind as to exclude all probability that the Catholic -religion may be true. -{442} -Or, third, that some certain and unerring authority, to which one -is bound to submit his private judgment, exists in one of the -several communions calling itself the true church of God. The -first argument cannot be brought into the forum of discussion, -because there is no certain, external test by which it can be -proved that such an illumination exists, or by whom among various -claimants it is possessed. The second is refuted by the simple -fact that so many intelligent and learned persons are convinced -by the Catholic arguments. The third is refuted by the fact that -no one of the churches claims infallibility. High-Churchmen claim -a teaching authority for their communion, but it is not claimed -by their church itself in any such sense as to exclude the right -and duty of testing its claims and doctrines by private judgment -on the Scriptures. Those who make the claim of authority in -behalf of this church do not pretend that it is more than a -portion of the universal church, and therefore, by the very claim -they put forth, directly suggest and provoke an examination of -the question what the universal church really teaches. The most -learned and eminent theologians among them distinctly assert that -the doctrines of the Church of England must be interpreted in -conformity with the teaching of the Catholic Church. Will any -reasonable person, then, pretend that one may not examine all the -evidence that can be adduced to prove what that teaching is; or -that he may not conscientiously and sincerely adopt the -conclusion that this teaching is really identical with the -doctrine of the Roman Church? We may cite here the judgment of -Dr. Johnson, who was a staunch Episcopalian, upon this point. -Boswell relates it in these words: "Sir William Scott informs me -that he heard Johnson say, 'A man who is converted from -Protestantism to popery may be sincere. He parts with nothing: he -is only superadding to what he already had. But a convert from -popery to Protestantism gives up so much of what he has held as -sacred as anything he retains; there is so much _laceration of -mind_ in such a conversion that it can hardly be sincere and -lasting.'" [Footnote 100] - - [Footnote 100: Boswell's _Johnson_. Edit, Bait., Bond, - 1856, p. 168] - -In truth, every form of dogmatic and positive Protestantism -presents its lines of fracture from the great mass of Christendom -so conspicuously to the eye, that it is absurd to pretend that -its relation to that mass is not a thing to be examined and -judged of by every one who is capable of judging for himself, -that is, by every one who is responsible to his conscience and to -God for his belief upon those doctrines affirmed by the Catholic -Church and denied by his own detached body. An old-fashioned, -strict Israelite can make a far more plausible claim for -authority over the conscience in behalf of the synagogue, than -any Protestant can make for his church. The Jewish hierarchy had -once authority from God, and has only been superseded by the -sovereign authority of Jesus Christ. We cannot argue with him, -therefore, that a Jew who renounces Judaism violates no -obligation of conscience toward a lawful authority, except by -adducing the evidence that Jesus is the Messias foretold by the -prophets. Upon his own premises he must regard such a person as -an apostate and a rebel. The only reason which could have any -weight with him, why he should continue to show the same kindness -to a member of his family who had been baptized as before, would -be, that it is better to leave such a case to the judgment of -God, and refrain from an exercise of severity which could do no -good, but rather aggravate the difficulty. -{443} -The majority of Jews at present are, however, rationalists. They -place the essence of religion in mere Theism and natural -morality, regarding the peculiarities of Judaism as accidentals. -On their own ground, therefore, they can have no excuse for -obtruding any claim of Judaism over the reason, conscience, or -private judgment of any of their number. Take away a divinely -appointed, infallible authority, and in all matters of purely -religious belief and practice each individual is in possession of -full liberty, for the right use of which he is responsible only -to God. Moreover, in matters of positive, dogmatic doctrine, the -majority of non-Catholics acknowledge that only probability is -attainable. Logic and good sense have brought them to this -conclusion as contained in the premises with which they started. -But in questions of probability and matters of opinion, persons -of equal sincerity and conscientiousness may differ. We are -certain that this will be admitted as an axiom by our -non-Catholic readers. But if this be so, those who profess to be -convinced of the truth of Catholic doctrines ought to be regarded -as sincere and conscientious, which we think most of our -non-Catholic friends will also admit. Every one must see, then, -how contrary to every right and honorable principle it is to -attempt to act on the minds of those who desire to become -Catholics by any other means than argument and persuasion. How -dangerous, how unjust, how mean it is to strive to terrify or -wheedle them into a forced acquiescence in the will of others -through human and worldly motives! It would be almost an insult -to our readers to argue this point gravely. Those who follow the -principles of Demas in the _Pilgrim's Progress_, and are in -favor of religion only when she walks in silver slippers, will -not publicly avow and defend any such base maxims, or maintain -seriously that their great objection to the Catholic religion is, -that it is not sufficiently genteel. Even the _New York -Herald_ flouts scornfully the religion of velvet cushions, -which makes the elect to consist solely of the _élite_ of -society. - -But at last we come at what is the real _gravamen_ of the -complaint against Catholics on the part of those who are disposed -to be fair and kindly. It is not that we hold certain doctrines -as opinions, or adopt certain modes of worship as suited to our -taste. This could be allowed without difficulty as our undoubted -right, provided we would admit that the Catholic Church is only -the best and most perfect among several forms of religion. But we -maintain its exclusive truth and legitimacy, and proclaim it to -be the only way of salvation. It is unpleasant for one to have -his wife, or children, or near friends, look upon him as a person -excluded from communion with them in spiritual things and out of -the way of salvation. Very true! But what does this prove? It -proves that the ideal of society is only actualized in religious -unity. It makes no difference what your ideal is, whether it is -something purely natural, or, under some form, supernatural. -There must be unity either in some negative or some positive -form. That is, there must be something to give those who are -closely connected on the earth the same idea of the tendency and -end of this earthly life, and of the future life which is to -succeed it. Yet we find that society is not in this ideal state -among us. It is impossible for Catholics to sacrifice their -convictions and violate the dictates of their conscience, for the -sake of a unity which they believe to be chimerical. -{444} -We believe that it is only the Catholic religion which can bring -society to its ideal perfection, and therefore we shall, for this -reason, as well as for higher ones, do all in our power to make -it universal. Probably our Evangelical friends await the -millennium, and other classes of the religious community await -the universal triumph of some kind of church of the future, while -the sceptics look for a millennium of science and common sense. -Meanwhile, it is probable that some time must elapse before any -such epoch shall arrive, and we must live together in all manner -of political and social relations. It is only by a jealous regard -for the personal religious liberty of every individual that we -can live together in peace and harmony. Is it not, then, better -that, if we cannot immediately heal all the wounds of society, we -should at least alleviate them as much as possible, awaiting a -more radical cure at a future time? - -We have already, in a former article, expressed our views upon -this point sufficiently, so that we need not dwell upon it any -longer at present. Happily, these are the views which are -practically carried out in a great number of cases, and are -gaining ground more and more. The state of things we have -described is becoming ameliorated even in England, but much more -in our own country. If the just, honorable, and rational temper -of the best class of non-Catholic Americans toward the Catholic -religion and its members were universal, and all persons disposed -to become Catholics were treated with the same delicate respect -for their liberty of conscience which some have experienced, -there would be no occasion for this reclamation in behalf of that -liberty. Those of our readers who can class themselves under this -category may understand, therefore, that with them we have no -controversy; but are combating an enemy as hostile to their own -domestic and social peace and well-being as to our own. - ----------- - - Benediction. - - - "We go so far, and with so much trouble, to obtain the - blessings of certain holy persons, and of the holy father the - pope; yet here is the Lord of saints, and the God of whom Pius - IX. is only the vicegerent, and we cannot intermit our - socialities or forego our ease to receive his blessing!" - E. A. S. - - - The Invitation. - - The balmy May is breathing on the air, - The rich, red sun sinks slowly down the west. - Come forth, dear soul, and be an honored guest: - One doth invite thee to his house all fair; - One great and good, this eve, doth wait thee there. - Nay, nay, not that dear friend whose hand hath prest - So oft thy own; not any ruler blest. - Of happiest clime: a nobler friendship share. - Ah! no; no poet doth such kindness move; - No wise, nor good, nor grand, nor holy, whom - The race reveres: a better friend would prove - His love; a greater asks thee to his home. - Within the tabernacle of his love, - The Lord of heaven awaits thee: wilt thou come? - ---------- - -{445} - - - Nellie Netterville; Or, One Of The Transplanted. - - - CHAPTER IX. - - -To this proposition Nellie joyfully assented, and he led the way -accordingly up a rocky path winding westward toward the cliffs. -Once or twice he turned as if to give her aid, but Nellie skipped -like a young kid from rock to rock, exulting in her independence; -and, finding that she declined assistance, he went on in silence -until they reached a point among the cliffs, high enough to give -them a full sea view toward the west. - -The Atlantic lay beneath them, rolling in its mighty volume of -deep waters, and dashing them against the cliffs below with the -strength and calmness of a sleepy giant. Nellie had often seen -the _sea_, that narrow strip of water, namely, which -separated her own birth-home from the birth-place of her kindred; -but of the mighty ocean, with its thousand voices coming up from -the deep caves below, its murmurings and whisperings, its -infinite variety of tints and aspects, its lights and shadows, -its clear green depths and crystal purity, such as no smaller -sheet of water can ever boast of, she had never even dreamed -before; and as her eye roamed over the smooth expanse until it -reached that uttermost point where sea and sky seem to blend -together, a sense of vastness and power fell upon her soul which -almost oppressed her. For a few minutes Roger watched her as she -stood there in hushed and breathless admiration, but just as the -silence was beginning to be oppressive he broke in by saying, -softly, "Yes, yes! it is all bright, and smooth, and shining now; -but I have stood here on an autumn evening, and watched it when -it was black and swollen, brimful beneath the coming storm--when -the wind seemed almost a living power--a thing to be seen as well -as felt--as it swept over that mighty mass of waters, mingling -its hoarse voice with theirs, and forcing on their waves, as a -general forces on his troops, until it dashed them in a very -frenzy of fruitless valor against the beetling cliffs beneath us. -And, in truth, I almost prefer it in those moods," he added, like -one thinking his own thoughts aloud; "for then it looks simply -like what it is, a huge monster ever greedy for its prey, -whereas, now, in this lazy sunshine, it seems to me nothing more -or less than a great smiling treachery, wooing its victims toward -it, only that it may afterward the more thoroughly engulf them." - -"It is a great, beautiful terror, even as it is to-day," said -Nellie breathlessly. "What a height we are above it! It makes me -giddy only to look down?" - -"Do not look, then," said Roger anxiously, "but rather turn -inward toward yonder isle, which is only separated from the -mainland by a narrow strip of water. There are cliffs upon that -island which look westward over the ocean and rise eighteen -hundred feet above it, and the inhabitants will tell you that, -when the weather is calm enough, you can see from thence, at the -setting of the sun, the 'Hy Brysail'--the enchanted isle, the -'Tir-na-n'oge,' or land of eternal youth and beauty, to which -death and sorrow never come, and where (so the old legend tells -us) a hundred years of this mortal life pass swiftly as a single -day. -{446} -Few, as you may well suppose, are the favored mortals who have -ever reached it, and fewer still, if any, who have ever come back -to tell the tale of their adventures." - -"It is a pretty legend," said Nellie, straining her eyes over the -ocean as earnestly as though she seriously expected to discover -the fairy island of which he spoke floating on its bosom. "Have -you ever really seen anything like land in that direction?" - -"If you choose, we can go some of these days on a voyage of -discovery," said Roger, smiling at her seriousness; "only, if we -do find 'Hy-Brysail,' I warn you that we shall have to stay -there. Such is the law by which adventurers to its shores are -bound. It does not seem a hard law either, does it? Would you -object to it. Mistress Netterville?' to be young and beautiful -for ever! Sorrow forgotten as if it had never been, beneath the -spells of that magic land!" - -Nellie drew a long breath, and her blue eyes grew well-nigh black -with suppressed feeling as she looked westward toward the ocean. -But she did not answer. - -"Well," he said, finding she would not speak, "will you try the -adventure with me, or do you still prefer earth and its passing -showers to this land of eternal sunshine?" - -Nellie sighed--it almost seemed as if she were making a real -choice; and when he playfully repeated, "Have you decided? which -shall it be--this old kingdom of Grana Uaille or Tir-na-n'oge?" -she quite seriously replied: - -"Not Tir-na-n'oge, certainly; though a year ago, perhaps, I might -have chosen otherwise. But youth and its sunshine is not real -happiness, after all, although sometimes it looks very like it; -and even if it were, there is something to me in a life of -happiness, simple and unalloyed, less noble, and less like the -choice of a soul predestined to eternity, than in one of sorrow -bravely borne." - -"Sorrow has done its work well for you, at all events," said -Roger, moved to a higher feeling of reverence than, two minutes -before, he would have thought it possible to have entertained for -a creature so young and still so childish." - -"Woe to the soul upon which it does it not, once that soul has -been delivered to its guidance," Nellie answered softly, and -almost as it were beneath her breath. - -Roger gazed upon her silently. It seemed as if she were changing -beneath his very eyes from a bright, impulsive child into a woman -of deep and earnest feeling--a woman in every fibre of her fine, -strong nature--and yet still in the untried freshness of her -sixteen years as innocent and confiding as a child. - -"Then you prefer a happiness which would bring with it the zest -of contrast?" he added, as if to prove her further. - -"I would prefer, at all events, a happiness founded upon duty," -she answered gravely; and then, as if half-ashamed of her own -earnestness, she asked him lightly: - -"Is it not strange to find these floating traditions of a -paradise of peace and plenty among a people so completely bereft -of both as these poor creatures, by their very condition as a -conquered race, must necessarily be?" - -"For that very reason!" he answered quickly; "for that very -reason! Men despised as savages and treated as wild beasts, will -either brood over schemes of real vengeance or soothe themselves -with dreams of unreal bliss. -{447} -Is it wonderful, therefore, that these poor people, with their -dreamy and imaginative natures, should sometimes look wistfully -over the broad ocean, and fancy they see a land where (if once -only it could be reached) flowers, and joy, and eternal sunshine, -would console them for the misery endured among these barren -rocks, in which they have been forced by their enemies to seek--I -was going to say, a home--it would have been far more correct to -have said--a prison?" - -"Nay, but now it is you that are unjust," said Nellie, -smiling--"unjust to this fair land you live in. The kingdom of -Grana Uaille can in no sense of the word be called a prison; and -even were it ten times less beautiful than it is, to me it would -still remain the one bright memory left me to look back to in -this great year of sorrow." - -Roger turned quickly round, but Nellie met his eye with such a -look of frank candor and unconsciousness as to the possibility of -any hidden meaning being attachable to her words, that he felt -tacitly rebuked beneath it, and merely said: - -"Ay; but, Mistress Netterville, I was talking of a home." - -"Home!" said Nellie softly--"home, after all, is but the place -where the heart garners up its treasures. These were almost the -last words my dear mother said to me, and now I feel their truth; -for if she were but once more at my side, the barrenest island in -Clew Bay would become to me, I think, at once as home-like almost -and dear as Netterville itself." - -Again Roger seemed on the point of saying _something_, but -again he checked himself and was silent. - -Nellie saw the flush upon his brow, and interpreted it her own -way. - -"You are not angry. Colonel O'More," she said, with the -simplicity of a child; "surely you do not fancy, because I spoke -of Netterville, that I am ungrateful for the kindness which has -made this island like a second home to me." - -"No, indeed," he answered, with a smile so bright that it must -have reassured her even if he had not said a word in answer. "No, -indeed. I was, or at all events I _am_, only thinking how I -can best persuade you and Lord Netterville to consider this -island as your home, even in the absence of its lawful owner." - -"Absence," said Nellie; "are you going then, and wherefore?" - -"Wherefore?" said O'More quickly. "I marvel that you cannot -guess. Because, Mistress Netterville, though I live upon this -island, and though its inhabitants acknowledge me as their -chieftain, it is yet a sorry fact that I am poor, poorer in -proportion than the poorest of the number; an outlaw besides, -with every man's hand and sword against me, and nothing but the -traditions of past greatness to soothe, or, which much oftener is -the case, to add bitterness to the meanness of my present -station." - -"Why call it meanness?" said Nellie, flashing up. "You have -fought and lost for your king and country, as we all have fought -and lost; and your enemies may take your lands indeed, but they -cannot rob you of the glory of the cause for which you have -contended, nor can they make you other than you are, a descendant -of brave old Grana Uaille and the inheritor of her kingdom." - -"Kingdom!" said Roger, with a little bitter laugh. "Turn your -eyes inland, Mistress Netterville, and look from the northern -point of Clew Bay southward toward the spot where Croagh Patrick -casts its shade upon the bright waters. -{448} -That was the old kingdom of Grana Uaille, and my inheritance upon -the day that I was born. My earliest recollections therefore are -connected with this wild land, and every rock and cave in its -fair winding coast-line was as familiar to me in my childish days -as the toys in their nursery are to more tenderly nurtured -children. But they sent me at last to Spain for that education -which would have been denied me here, and I only came back (while -still a mere raw boy) to fight under the banner of my kinsman, I -will not trouble you with a history of that war; you know it, -alas, too well already! But when Preston took refuge in Galway, -and the other chiefs of the confederation dispersed in different -directions, I made the best of my way hither, hoping, amid the -wilds and fastnesses of my own country, to be permitted to remain -at peace. Rumors reached me on the way of the great scheme of the -transplantation, and of the numbers flocking from the eastern -counties to usurp, against their will, the possessions of their -poorer brethren in the west. Soon after that, came tidings that -the enemy had reserved the coast-line for themselves, then that -they had swarmed over into some of the Clew Bay islands, and -then, at last, that they had taken possession of and fortified -Carrig-a-hooly, the old castle of Grana and the spot where I was -born. Still I pressed unhesitatingly forward; for I remembered -the 'Rath,' and knowing that it was, or used to be, almost a -ruin, I hoped it would have escaped them, and that I might find -there a refuge and concealment for the moment. Mistress -Netterville, you can guess at the result. I went as you went, and -found as you found, that it was occupied already. Major -Hewitson--" - -"What of Major Hewitson?" a voice asked impatiently at his elbow. -Roger turned, and found himself face to face with Henrietta, who -had glided so quietly up the mountain path that neither he nor -Nellie had an idea of her presence until she announced it by this -question. - -Remembering her kindness of the day before, Nellie's first -impulse had been to greet her eagerly; her next was to retreat a -step behind O'More, with an uncomfortable though only half -acknowledged consciousness that she herself would be considered -by Henrietta as one too many in the coming conversation. There -was, in truth, a flush on the young lady's brow and a sparkle in -her eye, by no means inviting to familiarity, and without seeming -conscious even of Nellie's presence, she repeated the question -angrily to O'More: - -"What of Major Hewitson? What of the owner of yonder castle?" - -Roger looked at her steadily, then removing his cap, and speaking -in his most courtly tones, he answered quietly: - -"Nothing, Mistress Hewitson, nothing at least, unfit to be said -in the presence of his daughter." - -"That won't do!" cried Henrietta passionately, "that won't do. I -heard his name as I came up, and I will know what you were saying -of him." - -Roger laughed a bright, merry laugh, which Nellie thought no -ill-humor could have resisted, and he answered frankly: - -"Nay, for that matter. Mistress Hewitson, if you insist upon it, -you are quite welcome to hear not only all that I did say, but -all likewise that I was about to say on the subject of your -father. I had just observed to Mistress Netterville (whose person -you seem somehow to have forgotten since yesterday) that I found -Major Hewitson in possession of my last refuge on the mainland, -and I was going to add that, as he had thus made _his_ -fortune at my expense, I trusted he would not endeavor to prevent -me seeking mine, where in these days Irishmen most often find -them, under the golden flag of Spain." - -{449} - -Spain! Nellie's heart leaped up suddenly, and then grew very -still. This, then, was the meaning of that word "absence" which -had already startled and, even against her will, disturbed her. -This was his meaning. He was about to leave Ireland for ever, and -make a home for himself in his mother's land. Nellie's heart -leaped up, and then grew very still! - -When she returned to a consciousness of the outward world around -her, Henrietta was saying eagerly: - -"Do not wait to know what he may think upon the subject; but go -at once. Remember you are an outlaw, and that an outlaw is one -whom the law permits to be hunted like a wild beast, and slain -whenever or however he may be taken." - -"And this, then, is the fate which your worthy father is -preparing for me?" Roger asked in a tone of bantering politeness, -which, considering the circumstances and Henrietta's evident -excitement, Nellie could not help thinking almost unkind. "It is -thus, like a wild beast, as you rightly term it, that he is about -to set upon me and slay me unawares." - -"I do not say it! I do not know it!" said Henrietta, almost -sobbing. "I only say--only know that there are fresh troops of -soldiers coming in to-day; that there have been for at least a -week past prayer-meetings and preachings and waitings on the -Lord, things which all portend a coming danger, and one that -probably will point toward you. Colonel O'More, be merciful; take -my warning for what it may be worth, and ask no further -questions. Remember, that if I think not with my father in these -matters, I am still, at all events, his daughter. And now I must -begone, for with all my skill at the oar, and little Paudeen's to -boot, I shall have hard work to get back in time for the mid-day -meal, and the long and weary homily by which it is seasoned and -made pleasant to unbelievers like myself." - -Henrietta turned as if to depart, but yet she did not. She seemed -to be struggling hard with some hidden feeling, and at last, with -an effort so violent that it was visible, at least to Roger's -eyes, she flung her arms round Nellie's neck. - -"I know nothing of you but your name, young mistress," she said -in a smothered voice; "but I know, at least, that I and mine have -wrought you a great injustice. That injustice unhappily I have no -power to repair; but yet, if ever you have need of any help that -I can give, and will come and ask me for it, believe me, instead -of heaping coals of fire on my head, you will be giving me the -only real happiness I can feel, so long as I know that, by my -residence in these lands, I am usurping the rights of others." - -Henrietta almost flung Nellie from, her as she finished speaking, -and then, without another word, either to her or Roger, she took -the down path of the cliff, and was out of sight in a moment. - -The two whom she left behind her continued silent, until they saw -the "corragh," or small boat, in which she had come, and which -had been waiting for her beneath the cliffs, gliding once more -out into the open bay; then they also turned their steps -homeward, and Roger, with no small dash of enthusiasm in his -manner, exclaimed: - -{450} - -"Brave girl! would you believe it, this is the second time she -has given me notice of a snare? only the first time," he added, -with perhaps some intuitive guess at the sort of questioning that -might be going on in Nellie's mind, "only the first time it was -by Paudeen, who sails her boat, and who, she well knows, may be -trusted in all that regards the safety of his chieftain. But what -is the old white-haired gospeller up to now, I wonder? I own I am -fairly puzzled!" - -"We are not, I trust, the cause of this fresh trouble to you?" -said Nellie timidly. - -"Oh! no. I think not; for your sake I trust not," he answered -thoughtfully. "It seemed to me to be altogether personal to -myself; for if it had been about the priest, I think she would -have said so." - -"The priest! where is he?" Nellie asked. "I did not even know -that there was one upon the island." - -"Not upon this island, but on another, as you shall see to-morrow -if you choose to make one of his Sunday congregation. But yonder -is your grandfather watching for you: had we not better go and -join him?" - -Nellie assented, and quickening her pace almost to a run, she was -in her grandfather's arms ere Roger, who came on more leisurely, -had time to join them. - -Lord Netterville gazed lovingly into Nellie's face, and smiled as -he saw the bright color which exercise had called into her pale -cheeks. Then he turned courteously toward his host. Perhaps he -had some vague idea in his old head that the fate of his -grandchild was to be henceforth, in some way or other, connected -with that of Roger; perhaps he was not himself aware of the -significance of his action; but this at all events is certain, -that, instead of relinquishing Nellie's hand, he kept it tightly -in his own, and when the young chieftain approached to greet him, -laid it silently in that of Roger. - -There was enough in the action itself, and still more in the way -in which it was done, to send the blood scarlet to Nellie's brow, -and she struggled to release her hand. For one moment, however, -Roger held it, gently but firmly, he even made a movement as if -he were about to raise it to his lips; instead of doing so, -however, he dropped it quietly, and said in a low voice: - -"Not now, not yet; but when you are once more at your mother's -side, will you permit me to remind you of this moment, and to ask -for the treasure which I now relinquish, at the hands of her who -is your only lawful guardian?" - - - Chapter X. - -Early the next morning, Nellie found herself gliding over the -waters of Clew Bay in one of the native corraghs of the country, -under the protection of her host. He was captain and crew all in -one, and she was his only passenger; for it had been decided on -the previous evening that Lord Netterville was not in a fit state -to endure the fatigue of such a voyage, and with old Nora to look -after his creature comforts, and Maida to guard him in his lonely -fortress, Roger assured his granddaughter that she need have no -scruple in leaving him during the two or three hours required for -their enterprise. And Nellie had readily obeyed; for, if the -truth must be told, she had begun to rely implicitly upon his -judgment, and to submit to it as unquestioningly as if she had -been a child. -{451} -The little shyness produced by Lord Netterville's thoughtless -action of the day before had entirely worn off, partly because -she herself had striven _womanfully_ against the feeling, -but chiefly because Roger, thoroughly comprehending how needful -it was to her comfort that, during her residence in his lonely -kingdom, she should be entirely at her ease in his society, had -adopted, as if by instinct, precisely the affectionate, brotherly -sort of manner which was of all others the best calculated to -produce this result. Nellie therefore gave herself up without a -thought to the pleasant novelty of a brotherly sort of petting -and protection which seemed to call for nothing more than quiet -acceptance on her part, and she listened to Roger with the keen -and unsated interest of a child as he told her the names, one -after another, of many of the clustered islands and rugged -rocklets, glittering like jewels in the deep bosom of the bay, -almost always contriving to add some little legend or stray scrap -of history, which gave each for the moment an especial, and (if -the expression may be allowed toward inanimate objects) an almost -personal interest in her eyes. At last he turned her attention -toward the mainland, pointing out the graceful windings of Clew's -varied shore, its wave-worn caverns and rocky arches, its cliffs -with their mantles of many-colored lichens which made them look -at that distance as if nature had stained them into an imitation -of most curiously-colored marble; and beyond these again, its -broad tracts of uncultivated bog-land, purple with heath in -autumn, but now yellow with gorse or dark with waving fern, its -hills rising one above another in lonely, savage grandeur, with -Croagh Patrick, the monarch of them all, standing up on the south -side of the bay, and looking down in haughty, cold indifference -upon its waters as they flowed beneath him. Nellie followed his -eye and finger eagerly as he pointed out each individual feature -in the scene before her; but observing that he lingered for a -moment on Croagh Patrick, she turned toward him for explanation. - -"It is Croagh Patrick," he said; then perceiving that she was not -much the wiser for the information, he added in some surprise, -"Do you not know the legend, that it was from the cone of yonder -hill St. Patrick pronounced the curse which banished all venomous -hurtful things from Ireland? Had the saint lived in these days," -Roger added, in that undertone which Nellie had by this time -discovered to be natural to him in moments of deep feeling, "it -is not, I think, against toads and snakes that he would have -directed his miracle-working powers, but against the men who, -coming to a land which is not their own, make war in God's name -against God's creatures, hunting them down with horn and hound, -and snaring and slaying them with as little compunction as they -would have snared or slain a wolf." - -"Would he then have expelled me also?" asked Nellie, with a -wicked smile. "You know that I, too, (and more's the pity!) have -blood of the hated Saxon in my veins." - -"Certainly not," said Roger promptly, "with your blue-black eyes -and blue-black hair, he would without a doubt (saint and prophet -though he was) have been deluded into believing you a Celt." - -"And so I am almost," said Nellie, with childish eagerness; "only -consider, Colonel O'More, we have been in the country almost -three hundred years, and in all that time, until my dear father's -marriage with my mother, (who is unfortunately an Englishwoman,) -it has been the boast and tradition of our race that its sons and -daughters have never wedded save with the sons and daughters of -their adopted land." - -{452} - -"Remember, then, that it will be for you to renew the tradition," -said Roger suddenly, and without reflection. He repented himself -bitterly a moment afterward, as he caught a glimpse of the flush -upon Nellie's half-averted face, and in order to undo the evil -which he had done he added hastily, "Yonder is our destination, -that bare, black rock jutting out from the mainland far into the -deep waters." - -"It is not then an island?" said Nellie a little disappointed. "I -fancied you said yesterday that it was one." - -"Perhaps I did, for it juts out so far and so boldly into deep -water that, from many parts of the bay, it looks almost like an -island. You cannot see the hermitage from this, but yonder is the -church, perched right upon the cliffs above." - -"Perched!" repeated Nellie, with a sort of shudder. "I should -hardly say even that it _was perched_, for to me it looks as -if it were actually toppling over." - -"And so it is," said Roger; "the tower is out of the -perpendicular already, and I never hear a winter storm without -picturing it to myself as going (as go most certainly it will -some day) crash over the cliff. It is safe enough, however, in -this calm weather," he added, for he saw that Nellie was -beginning to look nervous, "or I never should have thought of it -as a refuge for its present occupant, though, for that matter, it -was but a choice of evils, his life being in jeopardy whichever -way he turned." - -"Is he then especially obnoxious?" Nellie asked; "or is it only -that, like all our other priests, he is forced to do his mission -secretly?" - -"Especially obnoxious? I should think, indeed he was," said -Roger; "for he was chaplain to the brave old bishop whom they -hanged at the siege of Clonmel, and was present at his death. How -he managed to escape himself, has always been a marvel to me; but -escape he did, and came hither for a refuge. I stowed him away in -the ruined hermitage overhead, with a few other poor fellows who -are outlawed like myself, and in greater danger, and his presence -has never been even suspected by the enemy; so that he might, if -he had been so minded, have escaped long ago by sea. But when he -found us here, without sacraments or sacrifice, (for our priests -have been long since driven into banishment,) he elected to -remain, and now, at the peril of his life, he does duty as a -parish priest among us." - -"Brave priest! brave priest!" cried Nellie, clapping her hands. -"He must feel very near to heaven, I think, engaged in such a -mission, and living like a real hermit up there on that barren -rock." - -"And so in fact he is; or at least he lives in a real hermit's -cell," said Roger. "It was built in the time of Grana Uaille by a -holy man, in whose memory the rock is sometimes called 'the -hermit,' though more generally known as 'the chieftain's rock.'" - -"But why the change of names?" asked Nellie. - -"Because," he answered, with the least possible shade of -bitterness in his manner, "because, as often happens in this -wicked world, persons who have been made heroes in the eyes of -men are made more account of than those who are heroes only in -the sight of God. This hermit had lived here for many years in -peace and quiet, when the chief of a tribe of Creaghts, at enmity -with Grana Uaille, having been beaten by her in a battle, took -refuge with him among these rocks.' -{453} -The hermit hid him in the church, which, being an acknowledged -sanctuary, even Grana Uaille, stout and unscrupulous as she was -in most things, did not dare invade in order to drag him from its -shelter. But she swore--our good old Grana could swear upon -occasion as lustily as her rival sovereign your own Queen -Bess--Grana swore that neither the sanctity of his hermit friend -or of his place of refuge should avail him aught, and that, -sooner or later, she would starve him into submission. She landed -accordingly with her men, and surrounded church and hermitage -upon the land side, that toward the sea being left unguarded and -unwatched because, owing to the height and steepness of the cliff -itself, and the position of the church tower, built almost -immediately upon its edge, there seemed no human possibility of -evasion that way. The chief, however, and his hermit proved too -many for her after all; for by dint of working day and night, -they succeeded, before their store of provisions was entirely -exhausted, in cutting through the floor and outer wall of the -church, and so making a passage which gave them instant access to -the cliffs outside. This was by no means so difficult a task as -at first sight it seems; for the floor of the building is only -hardened earth, and its walls a mere mixture of mud and rubble, -the very tower itself being only partially built of stone. I have -often, when a boy, crept through the aperture, but it is nearly -filled up with rubbish now, and almost, or I think quite -forgotten among the people, who have been using the church for -the last twenty years as a storehouse for peat and driftwood for -their winter firing. Useful enough, however, the poor chieftain -found it; for one fine moonlight night he walked quietly through -it into the open air, swung himself down the cliffs as -unconcernedly as if he had been merely searching for puffins' -nests, and finally escaped in a boat left there by his friends -for that very purpose. Next day, the hermit threw the church -gates open, and sent word to Queen Grana that her intended victim -had escaped her. You may imagine what a rage the virago -chieftainess was in at finding herself thus outwitted; but I have -not time to tell you now, for here we are close into shore, and -it is time to think of landing." - -Roger had lowered the sail while speaking, and he now began -sculling the boat round a low sandy point which hid the harbor -from their view. While he was occupied in this manner, Nellie, -chancing to turn her head in the direction of Clare Island, -perceived another corragh fast following in their track, and -rowed by a boy, who was evidently working might and main in order -to overtake them. She mentioned the matter to Roger, who -instantly ceased his toil, and turned round to reconnoitre. - -"It is Paudeen," he said at once. What, in Heaven's name, has -sent him to us here?" - -The boy saw that he was observed, and without stopping a moment -in his onward course, made signs to them to await his coming. - -Roger did as he was desired; and in a few minutes more the two -corraghs were lying together side by side, and so close that -their respective occupants could have conversed easily in a -whisper. - -"What is it, Paudeen?" asked O'More; "have you any message for -me, or is there anything the matter that you have followed us so -far?" - -{454} - -"It's Mistress Hewitson who is wanting to see you," said the boy. -"She was prevented leaving as soon as she intended, and she sent -me on before to ask you not to quit the island until she had -spoken to you. You were gone, however, before I could get there; -so, guessing well enough where you would most likely be upon -Sunday morning, I followed you down here." - -"But if you came straight from the mainland, how is it that I did -not meet you in the way?" asked O'More suddenly, a strange -suspicion of even Paudeen's simple faith passing rapidly through -his mind. - -"Because I didn't come from it at all, at all," the boy answered -curtly. "It is yonder they're staying now," he added, pointing to -Achill Island; "and they do say in the house that Clare Isle will -be the next to follow." - -"And is it to tell me this that Mistress Hewitson is about to -honor me with a visit?" Roger answered bitterly. "The formality, -methinks, was hardly needed, considering all that her father has -robbed me of already." - -"Sorrow know, I know what she will be wanting; but this at all -events I know for certain, that it is for nothing but what is -good and kind," said Paudeen; adding immediately afterward in a -musing tone, "though how _she_ can be what she _is_, -considering the black blood that is running in her veins, it -needs greater wits than I can boast of to be able to discover." - -"Well, well," said Roger, "I believe you are about right there, -Paudeen. So now go back at once, and say to Mistress Hewitson -that she shall be obeyed, and that I will return to Clare Island -in time to receive her at the landing-place." - -"Let me go back also," said Nellie, in a smothered voice. "If I -and my grandfather have brought this danger to your door, it is -only just that we should share it with you." - -"Share it. Mistress Netterville? Nay, but you would double it!" -cried O'More vehemently. "In the face of anything like real, -present danger, I should infallibly lose my life in anxiety for -yours. In point of fact, however, he added, seeing that she still -looked distressed and anxious; in point of fact, the danger -(whatever it is) cannot be immediate, since it is evident that -Mistress Hewitson expects by her intended visit to give me such -information as may enable me to evade it. Possibly she has heard -further details concerning those plans of the old man, her -father, at which yesterday she obscurely hinted. It may even be, -as Paudeen seems to think, that they intend to put an English -garrison on the island, and she may hope to soften matters for us -by giving me this previous notice. Any way, I entreat you not to -be over anxious; for though I acknowledge that we live in -perilous times and places, yet still, and if only for that very -reason, it behoves us to keep our common sense intact, and not to -allow it to be scared by every passing cloud that seems to -threaten us with storm." - -After such words as these, Nellie felt there was nothing for it -but to land the moment the boat reached shore, and Roger helped -her out with a sort of graceful tenderness, which seemed tacitly -to ask forgiveness for the constraint he had been compelled to -put upon her inclinations. - -Then he pointed to a scarcely discernible path among the -brushwood, and said hastily: - -"That path will take you straight to the church. If any one ask -you any questions, the watchword is, 'God, our Lady, and Roger -O'More.' Farewell! Get as near the altar as you can; tell them -not to wait for me, but I will be back in time to fetch you." - -{455} - -He waited one moment, to make sure that she understood him, then -pushed the boat out into deep water, and without even venturing -to look back, pursued his way diligently homeward. - -The breeze had died away, so that he would, he knew, be -infinitely longer in returning to Clare Island than he had been -in coming from it. As he passed Paudeen, he had half a mind to -hail him, but reflecting that he would probably lose more time by -the stoppage than he could gain by the boy's assistance, he -changed his mind and went on his way alone. It was hot and weary -work, but he put all his strength and will to it, and did it in a -shorter time than he had expected. Not, however, before his -presence was apparently sorely needed; for just as he neared the -harbor, the deep, angry bay of the wolf-dog Maida reached his -ear. This was followed by a woman's voice, endeavoring probably -to soothe the dog, and this again by a long, shrill whistle which -came like a cry for aid across the waters. Thus urged, O'More -pulled with redoubled energy, and next moment was in the harbor. -A corragh, ownerless and empty, was lying loose beside the pier, -and a few yards from the landing-place he saw a girl standing -motionless as a statue, one hand raised in an attitude of -defence, confronting Maida, who, with head erect and bristling -hair, seemed to bid her advance further at her peril. Had she -attempted to retreat, had she shown even a shadow of timidity or -of yielding, the dog would undoubtedly have torn her into pieces; -but, with wonderful nerve and courage, she had so far stood her -ground, and, rebuked by her stillness and unyielding attitude, -Maida, up to that moment, had fortunately contented her sense of -duty by keeping a close watch upon her proceedings. Horrified at -the sight, and dreading lest Maida might mistake even the sound -of his voice for a signal of attack, Roger hastily leaped on -shore. Henrietta heard him, and without even daring to turn her -head in his direction, whispered softly: - -"Call off your dog--for God's dear sake, call her off at once!" - -Roger made no reply, (for, in fact, he did not dare to speak,) -but he made one bound forward and placed himself between her and -her foe. Maida instantly abandoned her threatening look to greet -her master, and for one half-moment he employed himself in -caressing and calming down her fury. Then he turned eagerly to -Henrietta: - -"How is this. Mistress Hewitson? For God's sake, speak! The dog -has not injured you, I trust?" - -Henrietta did not at first reply. She was as white as ashes, and -her eyes glittered with a strange mingling of courage and of -desperate fear. "Send away the dog," she cried at last; "send -away the dog. I cannot bear to see her," and then burst into -tears. - -Roger said one word, and Maida instantly flew toward the castle. -He was about to follow in the same direction in order to procure -some water, but the girl caught him by the arm, and held him so -that he could not move. - -"Calm yourself, I entreat you," he said, fancying she was still -under the influence of terror. "No wonder that even your high -courage has given way. Let me call Nora. She will help you to -compose yourself." - -"Call no one," Henrietta gasped. - -"Call no one; but tell me, is there not a priest and some other -outlaws in hiding on the chieftain's rock?" - -{456} - -"What then?" he asked, the blood suddenly rushing to his heart as -he thought of Nellie. - -"What then?" she repeated fiercely; "because, (oh! that I had -known it but an hour ago,) because death is there, and treachery -and woe! But whither are you going?" she cried, following him as -he broke suddenly from her grasp, and began to retrace his way -toward the pier. - -"Whither? whither?" he answered, like one speaking in his sleep. -"There, of course. Where else? My God, that I should have left -Nellie there!" - -"The girl!" cried Henrietta; "and you have been there already, -and have had time to row all this way back? My God, then it will -be too late to save her. The church must be in flames ere now." - -O'More made no reply, but leaped at once into the boat. "What do -you want?" he asked, almost savagely, as Henrietta followed him. -"What do you want here--you, the child of her assassin?" - -"I want to save her, and, still more, to save my father, if I -can, from this most fearful guilt," she answered promptly. Roger -made no further opposition. Once fairly out of harbor, he rowed -with all the energy of despair, and Henrietta helped him nobly. -They were obliged to trust entirely to their oars, and the delay -was maddening. Roger never cast a single glance toward the spot -where all his soul was centred, but Henrietta could not resist a -look once or twice in that direction. - -Suddenly she cried out. - -"What is it?" he asked nervously; "what is it?" - -"They have fired the church," she said, in smothered tones. -"There is a cloud of smoke; and now--my God!--a jet of flame -going through it to the sky!" - -He made no reply, but he bent to the oar until the bead-drops of -mingled agony and toil stood thick upon his brow. - -"God help them! They must be trying to escape," she muttered yet -again, as something like a shot or two of musketry reached her -ear. - -Faster he rowed, and faster. The boat leaped like a living thing -along the waters. They were close to the cliff at last. Overhead, -the sky was hidden by a canopy of heavy smoke, with here and -there a streak of fire flashing like forked lightning athwart it. -Underneath, the water lay black as ink, in the reflection of the -clouded heavens, as the boat rushed through it. One more effort, -and they were in the cove--another, and they were flung high and -dry upon the beach. Roger jumped out without a word. Was he in -time? or was he not? His whole soul was engrossed in that fearful -question. - -"What are you going to do?" asked Henrietta, uncertain as to what -her own share in the enterprise was to be. He had been searching -in the bottom of the boat for something; but he looked up then -with a kindling eye, and said: - -"Will you be true to the end?" - -"So help me God, I will!" she answered in that quiet tone which -tells all the more of steady courage that it has no touch of -bluster in it. He had found what he wanted now--a cutlass and a -coil of rope--and answered rapidly: - -"Take the boat out of this, then, and wait beneath the cliffs. -Wait till I come, or until yonder tower falls, as fall it must, -and soon. After that, you may go home in peace. Yes, peace! For -happen what may, your soul, at any rate, will be guiltless of -this day's murder." - -He shoved the boat back into deep water as he finished speaking, -and then, without even looking back to see if Henrietta followed -his directions, strode rapidly up the cliffs. - -{457} - - - Chapter XI. - -Happily unconscious of the peril by which her own life was so -speedily to be placed in jeopardy, Nellie stood for a few minutes -after Roger left her, watching his progress through the water, -and speculating anxiously enough upon the nature of the summons -which had been delivered to him by Paudeen. In spite of his -apparent coolness, there had been something in the way in which -he had almost forced her to leave him--something in the haste -with which he had given her his last directions--something (if it -must be confessed) in the very fact of his having rushed off -without even a parting word or look, which made her suspect the -danger to be more real and immediate than he wished her to -suppose it. And now, as she watched him bending to the oar as if -his very life depended on his speed, suspicion seemed all at once -to grow up into certainty, and she bitterly regretted the shyness -which had prevented her insisting on returning with him to the -island. Regrets, however, were now in vain, and remembering that, -if she delayed much longer, she would in all probability be too -late for Mass, and so lose the only object for which she had -remained behind, she turned her face resolutely toward the path -pointed out by Roger. It was less a path indeed than a mere -narrow space left by the natural receding of the rocks and loose -boulders, which lay scattered about in all directions. Such as it -was, it led Nellie in a zigzag fashion upward toward the cliffs, -turning and twisting so suddenly and so often, that she could -hardly ever see more than a yard or two before her, while the -boulders on either side, being generally higher than her head, -and the intervals between them filled up with tall heather and -scrubby brushwood, she might as well, for all that she could have -seen beyond, have been walking between a couple of stone walls. -The congregation had in all probability already reached the -church, or else they were coming to it by another path; for not -the sound of a voice or of a footstep either before or behind her -could she hear, though she paused occasionally to listen. Once -indeed, but only once, at a sudden opening among the boulders, -she fancied she saw something like the glistening of a spear in -the brushwood underneath, and a minute or two afterward the air -seemed tremulous with a low sighing sound, as if some one were -whispering within a few yards of her ear. Nevertheless, when she -paused again in some trepidation to reconnoitre, everything -seemed so lonely and so still around her, that she was obliged to -confess that her imagination must have been playing her sad -tricks. The light which she had seen was, in all probability, a -mere effect of sunshine on some of the more polished rocks, while -the sough and sigh of the waters, as they lapped quietly on the -beach below, might easily have assumed, in that distance and in -the calm summer air, the semblance of a human whisper. Once she -had satisfied herself upon this point, she resolved not to be -frightened from her purpose by any nervous fancies; and -stimulating her courage by the reflection that, if an enemy -really were lurking near, her best chance of safety would be the -church, in which her countrymen and women were already gathered, -she toiled steadily upward until she reached the platform upon -which it was erected. -{458} -A sudden turn in the path brought her face to face with it almost -before she fancied that she was near, and she only comprehended -how heartily she had been frightened on the way, by the sense of -relief which this discovery imparted. It was a low, mean-looking -edifice enough, with the hermit's cell built aslant against the -wall, and forming in fact a kind of porch, through which alone it -could be entered. From the moment it first came in sight, the -path had narrowed gradually until there was barely room at last -for the passing of a single person, and while it appeared to -Nellie to descend, the rocks on either side rose higher, slanting -even somewhat over, so as partially to impede the light. From -this circumstance she was led to fancy that both cell and church -had been built originally below what was now the present surface -of the land, a fact which, joined to its desolate, ruinous -condition, might easily have pointed it out to Roger as a fitting -place for the concealment of his friends. The low door of the -porch was closed and fastened upon the inside, so that she was -obliged, very reluctantly, to knock on it for admittance. A -moment afterward she heard the sound of footsteps, the door was -drawn back an inch or two, and some one from behind it whispered -in Irish, "Who are you, and for whom?" - -"For God, our Lady, and Roger O'More," Nellie promptly answered. - -"Enter, then, in the name of God," the voice replied; and a -strong hand being put forth, she was drawn within the building as -easily and unresistingly as if she had been a child, and the door -was again closed behind her. The cell into which she had been -thus unceremoniously introduced was very dark, and she could only -just perceive that the person who had played the part of porter -was a tall, soldierly-looking fellow, and therefore, she -concluded, one of the outlaws, of whose residence in the building -Roger had informed her. - -"You have been long a-coming," said the man. "Why is not the -chieftain with you?" - -"How do you know that he brought me hither?" asked Nellie, -startled by the knowledge he seemed to have of her proceedings. - -"We keep a good look-out seaward upon Sunday mornings," he -answered significantly. "Why did he go back?" - -"A message--summons from the island," said Nellie; not well -knowing how much or how little it would be prudent to -communicate. "It was nothing of any consequence, I believe; and -he said you were not to wait. He will probably be here before all -is over." - -"Good," said the man; "then follow me." He went on as he spoke, -Nellie stumbling as well as she could after him in the dark, -until they reached the thick matting of dried grass which -separated the church from the porch outside. Here the descent -became so sudden that she would inevitably have been precipitated -face foremost into the midst of the congregation, if her -conductor had not caught her by the arm in time to prevent this -catastrophe, and landed her safely on the other side. The -interior of the building, as Nellie saw it in that dim light, had -a much nearer resemblance to a ruinous barn than to a place of -Christian worship. As Roger had already told her, it had been so -long dismantled and forgotten as a church that the people had -come to look upon it simply as a storehouse for their winter -firing, a fact amply attested by the piles of drift and brushwood -which rose in all directions, blocking up the narrow windows, and -forming a gigantic stack against the wall behind the altar. -{459} -This latter was of stone, facing the door by which she had just -entered, and so placed that there was a considerable distance -between it and the wall beyond. - -In this desolate-looking building about twenty or thirty people -were assembled, most of them women and young girls, with a -sprinkling of old men and half-a-dozen younger ones, in whom -Nellie fancied she recognized the outlawed soldiers of the royal -army. Two or three of these last stole a curious glance upon her, -as she moved onward toward the altar; but the greater part of the -congregation were so absorbed in earnest and loudly-uttered -prayer, that they seemed absolutely unconscious of the entrance -of a stranger. Passing quietly, so as not to disturb them in -their devotions, Nellie made her way to a spot from whence she -had a full view of the priest as he sat, a little on one side, -engaged in hearing the confessions of those who presented -themselves for that purpose. He was in truth a hero in Nellie's -eyes--the best of all heroes--a Christian hero. He had stood by -that brave old bishop who had gone to death for an act of -patriotism which, in the old heroic days of Rome, would have set -him as a demigod upon pagan altars. Quiet and self-possessed, he -had knelt, amid the thunders of the battle-field, to hear the -confessions of the wounded soldiers. He had plunged into the fell -atmospheres of plague and fever, braving death in its worst and -most loathsome forms in the exercise of his ministerial -functions. He had buried the dead--he had consoled the widow and -orphan, made such by the reckless cruelty of man; and now, when -he had exhausted all the more heroic forms of service to his -Lord, he had come hither, like that Lord himself--like the good -Shepherd of the Gospel--to gather up the young lambs into his -arms, and to comfort a conquered and stricken people; to pour the -consolations of religion upon hearts wrung and disconsolate in -human sorrow; to preach of heaven to men forsaken of the earth, -and to teach them, houseless and hapless as they were, to lift up -those eyes and hands, which had been lifted in vain to their -brother man for mercy, higher and higher still, even to that -Almighty Father to whose paternal heart the life of the very -least of his little ones was of such unspeakable and unthought-of -value that not a hair might fall from one of their heads without -his express permission. Thoughts like these passed rapidly -through Nellie's mind as she watched the old man bending -reverently and compassionately to receive, in the exercise of his -ministerial functions, each new tale of sin or sorrow which, one -after another, the poor people round him came to pour into his -sympathizing ear. - -We have called him "old," for his hair was white and his face was -ploughed into many wrinkles; yet Nellie could not help suspecting -that the look of wearied, patient age upon his features was less -the effect of years, than of the toil and suffering by which -those years had been utilized and made fruitful in the service of -his Master. Altogether she felt drawn toward him by a feeling of -reverent admiration, which would probably have found vent in -words, if he had not been so completely occupied in his -ministerial duties as to make it simply impossible to interrupt -him. For in a congregation deprived, as this had been, of a -pastor for many months, there was of course much to be done ere -the commencement of the Sunday service. -{460} -There were confessions to be heard, and infants to be baptized, -and more than one young couple--who had patiently awaited the -coming of a lawful minister for the reception of that -sacrament--to be united in holy wedlock. At last, however, all -this was over, and Nellie had just made up her mind to go and -speak to him in her turn, when, to her infinite annoyance, he -rose from his place and commenced robing himself at the altar. -Kneeling down again, therefore, she endeavored to withdraw her -thoughts from all outward things, in order to fix them entirely -upon the coming service. In spite, however, of her most earnest -efforts, she felt nervous and unhappy at the prolonged absence of -O'More, and she could not help envying the people round her, as -with all the natural fervor of the Celtic temperament, they -abandoned themselves to prayer; prostrating, groaning, beating -their breasts, and praying up aloud with as much naive -indifference to the vicinity of their neighbor, as if each -individual in presence there imagined that he and his God were -the sole occupants of the church. Poor Nellie could obtain no -such blest absorption from her cares. Her eyes would glance -toward the door for the coming of Roger, and her ears would -listen for his footsteps; once or twice, indeed, she felt quite -certain that she heard him moving quietly behind the screen of -matting, which shut in the church from the porch outside, and -became, in consequence, nervously anxious to see him lift it and -take his promised place beside her. He never came, however, yet -the sounds continued, accompanied at times by a slight waving of -the screen, as if a hand had accidentally touched it; and this -occurred so often that Nellie began at last to be seriously -alarmed. She thought of Paudeen's mysterious message to his -chieftain, and her own half extinguished fancy of having seen a -spear among the brushwood recurred vividly to her mind. What if -she had seen rightly, after all? What if an enemy were really -lurking in the neighborhood; or, worse still, crouching behind -that terrible screen, ready to massacre the congregation as they -passed through it to the open air after service? The thought was -too terrible for solitary endurance, and she was just about to -lessen the burden by imparting it to her nearest neighbor, when -she found herself forestalled by a heavy, stifling cloud of -smoke, which rolled suddenly through the church and roused every -creature present to a sense of coming danger. There was a rustle -and a stir, and then they all stood up, men and women and little -children, gazing with wild eyes and whitened faces on each other, -uncertain of the "how or from whence" of the threatened peril. - -The priest alone seemed to pay no attention to the circumstance; -nevertheless he felt and comprehended far better than they did -the nature of the fate awaiting them, and hurried on to the -conclusion of the Mass, which was by this time, fortunately, -well-nigh over. - -He had hardly finished the communion prayer before the heat and -suffocation had become unbearable. In an agony of terror, the -people made a rush to the gates, and tore down the screen of -matting which separated the church from the porch beyond. - -Then arose a wild cry of despair, filling the church from floor -to ceiling--the cry of human beings caught in a snare from -whence, except by a cruel death, there was no escaping. The porch -was already a blazing furnace, filled almost to the roof, with -fagots burning in all the fury that pitch and tar, and other -combustibles flung liberally among them, were calculated to -produce. -{461} -These, then, were the sounds which had disturbed Nellie during -Mass. The enemy had profited by the rapt devotion of these poor -people to build up, unheard and unsuspected, their death-pile in -the porch, after which doughty deed they had retired, closing the -gates behind them, and trusting the rest to the terrible nature -of the ally they had so recklessly invoked. - -To attempt a passage through that sea of fire in its first wild -fury would have been instant death; and amid the cries of women -and children, many of whom were well-nigh trampled to death -beneath the feet of their fellow-victims, the crowd swayed -backward. - -Then came another horror. An unhappy girl, one of the foremost of -the throng, in her eagerness to escape, had rushed so far into -the porch that her garments caught fire, and, mad with pain and -fear, she flung herself face downward upon a heap of driftwood -near her. It was all that was needed to complete the work of -destruction. The wood, dry and combustible as tinder, ignited -instantly, and in two minutes more was a mass of flame. In vain -some of the men, with the priest at their head, leaped on it in a -wild effort to trample it out before it could spread further. As -fast as it was stifled in one place it broke out in another, the -subtle element gliding along the walls and seizing upon stack -after stack of wood with an ease and speed that mocked at all -their efforts to extinguish it. No words can paint the horrors of -the scene that followed! Heavy volumes of black smoke, ever and -anon rolling upward from some new spot upon which the fire had -fastened, at times shut out the light of day, and made the -darkness almost palpable to the senses. Fire, bright and angry, -flashing at first here and there at intervals, like forked -lightning, through the gloom; then coming thicker and quicker, as -it grew with what it fed on, hurrying and leaping in its exultant -fury, licking up and devouring with hungry tongues all that -opposed its progress--now spreading itself in sheets of molten -flame, now contracting into red, hissing streams, bearing a -terrible resemblance to fiery serpents, but never for a moment -slackening in its work of woe, winding hither and thither, and in -and out, and fastening with all the malice and tenacity of a -conscious creature upon everything combustible within its reach, -until the very rafters overhead were wreathed in flame--and -underneath that awful canopy the panting, shrieking crowd, -struggling in that sulphurous atmosphere of smoke and fire, -rushing backward and forward, they knew not whither, in search of -a safety they knew too well they could never find; for even while -obeying the animal instinct to fly from danger, there was not a -creature there who did not feel to the very inmost marrow of his -being, that unless a miracle were interposed to save him, he was -doomed then and there to die. - -Nellie was the only person in the church, perhaps, with the sole -exception of the pastor, who made no vain effort at escaping. -Driven by the swaying of the others, after their first rush to -the door, backward toward the altar, she had remained there -quietly ever since, praying, or trying to pray, and shutting eyes -and ears as much as might be to the terrible sights and sounds -around her. Accident had, in fact, brought her to the only spot -in the building where safety was for the moment feasible. - -{462} - -The altar was built, as we have already said, of stone, and being -placed at some distance from any of the walls, the space in -front, though stifling from heat and smoke, was clear of fire, -and consequently of immediate danger. - -Hither, therefore, the priest, who, having done all that man -could do toward the stifling of the flames, now felt that another -and a higher duty--the duty of his priestly office--must needs -be exercised, endeavored to collect his flock, and hither, at his -bidding, one by one they came, every hope of rescue extinguished -in their bosoms, and scorched, and bruised, and half-suffocated -as they were, lay down at his feet to die. There was no loud -shrieking now--the silence of utter exhaustion had fallen upon -them all, and only a low wail of pain broke now and then from the -white, parched lips of some poor dying creature, as if in human -expostulation with the sputtering and hissing of the flames that -scorched him. Once, and only once, a less fitting sound was -heard--a curse, deep but loud, on the foe that had so ruthlessly -contrived their ruin. - -It reached the ear of the priest as he stood before the altar, -sometimes praying up aloud, sometimes with look and voice -endeavoring to calm his people, waiting and watching with wise, -heroic patience for the precise moment when, all hopes of human -life abandoned, he might lead them to thoughts of that which is -eternal. - -But that muttered curse seemed to rouse another and a different -spirit in his bosom, and filled with holy and apostolic anger, he -turned at once upon the man who spoke it. - -"Sinner!" he cried, "be silent! Dare you to go to God with a -curse upon your lips? What if he curse you in return? What if he -plunge you, for that very word, from this fire, which will pass -with time, into that which is eternal and endures for ever? O my -children, my children!" cried the good old man, opening wide his -arms, as if he would fain have embraced his weeping flock and -sheltered them all from pain and sorrow on his paternal bosom, -"see you not, indeed, that you must die!--with foes outside, with -devouring flames within, all hope of life is simple folly. Die -you must. So man decrees; but God, more merciful, still leaves a -choice--not as to death, but as to the spirit in which you meet -it. You may die angry and reviling, as the blaspheming thief, or -you may die (O blessed thought!) as Jesus died--peace in your -hearts and a prayer for your very foes upon your lips. Have pity -on yourselves, my children; have pity on me, who, as your pastor, -will have to answer for your souls, as for my own, to God--and -choose with Jesus. Put aside all rancor from your hearts. -Remember that what our foes have done to us, we, each in our -measure, have done by our sins to Jesus. Pray for them as he did. -Weep, as he did for _your_ sins (not _his_) upon the -cross, and kneel at once, that while there yet is time I may give -you, in his name and by his power, that pardon which will send -you safe and hopeful to the judgment-seat of God." - -Clear, calm, and quiet, amid the confusion round him, rose the -voice of that good shepherd, sent hither, as it seemed, for no -other purpose than to perish with his flock; and like a message -of mercy from on high his words fell upon their failing hearts. -They obeyed him to the letter. Hushed was every murmur, stifled -every cry of pain, and, prostrate on their faces, they waited -with solemn silence the word which they knew would follow. And it -was said at last. -{463} -With streaming eyes, and hands uplifted toward that heaven to -which he and his poor children all were speeding, the priest -pronounced that _Ego te absolvo_, which speaking to each -individual soul as if meant for it alone, yet brought pardon, -peace, and healing to them all. Something like a low "Amen," -something like a thrill of relief from overladen bosoms, -followed; and then, almost at the same instant, came a loud cry -from the outside of the church--a crashing of doors--a rush--a -struggle--a scattering of brands from the half-burned-out fagots -in the porch--and, blackened with smoke and scorched with fire, -O'More leaped like an apparition into the midst of the people. A -shout almost of triumph greeted his appearance, for they felt as -if he _must_ have brought safety with him. It seemed, in -fact, as if only by a miracle he could have been there at all. -Unarmed as he was, he had rushed through the English soldiers, -and they, having all along imagined him to be in the church with -their less noble victims, were taken so completely by surprise -that they suffered him to pass at first almost without a blow. By -the time they had recovered themselves, their leaders had staid -their hands. It was better for all their purposes that he should -rush to death of his own accord than that they should have any -ostensible share in the business. No further opposition, -therefore, being offered to his progress he easily undid the -gates, which were only slightly barricaded on the outside, and -having cleared the porch at the risk of instant suffocation to -himself, he now stood calling upon Nellie, and vainly endeavoring -to discover her in the blinding atmosphere of smoke around him. -She was still where she had been from the beginning--at the foot -of the altar, faint and half-dead with heat and fear. But the -sound of his voice seemed to call her back to life, and, with a -cry like a frightened child, she half-rose from her recumbent -posture. Faint as was that cry, he heard it, and catching a -glimpse of her white face, rushed toward her. In another moment -he had her in his arms, wrapped carefully in his heavy cloak, and -shouting to all to follow and keep close, he rushed behind the -altar. - -Half an hour before this had been the hottest and most dangerous -position in the church, but O'More had well calculated his -chances. The real danger now was from the roof, which, having -been burning for some time, might fall at any moment. Below, the -fire, having rapidly exhausted the light material upon which it -had fed its fury, was gradually dying out, and boldly scattering -the fagots upon either side as he moved on, Roger made his way -good to the only spot in the building from whence escape was -possible. Here the floor sank considerably below the general -surface, and dashing down a heap of brushwood which still lay -smouldering near, he lay bare an aperture effected in the wall -itself, and going right through it to the cliffs beyond. - -Through this he passed at once, carrying Nellie as easily as if -she had been a baby, and landing her safely on the other side. -The people saw, and with a wild cry of hope rushed forward. Even -as they did so the roof began to totter. They knew it, and -maddened by the near approach of death, pressed one upon another, -blocking up the way and destroying every chance of safety by -their wild efforts to attain it. - -{464} - -In the midst of this confusion, a shower as of red-hot fire -poured down from the yielding rafters. Then came another cry (oh! -so different from the last)--a cry of grief and terror -mingled--then a crashing sound and a heavy fall--and then a -silence more terrible even than that cry of terror--a ghastly, -death-like silence, only broken by the hissing and crackling of -the flames above, and the deep sough of the sea below--and all -was over. - - - To Be Continued. - -------- - - Translated From The French Of M. Vitet. - - Science And Faith. - - - Meditations On The Essence Of The Christian Religion, - By M. Guizot. - - - Conclusion. - - - III. - -The way is found. Man has the gift of believing not only the -things he sees and knows by his own intellect, but also those he -does not see and which he learns through tradition. He admits, he -affirms with confidence the facts which are asserted by others, -when the witnesses seem competent and reliable, even in cases -where he cannot verify their truth or submit them to a rigid -criticism. Thus in the authority of witnesses we have that which -constitutes faith; faith properly so called, which is the belief -in the divine truths, as well as purely human faith, which is -confidence in the knowledge of another. Both require the same act -of intelligence; but, if it concerns the affairs of this world, -the authority of the witness is easily established, for he has -only to prove his competence and his veracity; while for -superhuman things it is necessary that he himself should be -superhuman, that he should prove it to us, that we should feel by -the way he speaks that he knows and has dwelt in the heaven of -which he is speaking, and that he has descended from it. If he is -only a man, he is without a claim upon us. Manifest signs of his -mission and authority are necessary; such signs must be unusual -and incomprehensible; they must command respect and force -conviction; they must be miraculous facts entirely beyond mere -human power. - -Such is the supreme and necessary condition for every solution of -these natural problems, or, what amounts to the same, for any -great and true religion. The appearance of a being eminently -divine is necessary, who will show the character of his mission -and his right to claim obedience by miracles. Miracles and -religion are, then, two correlative terms, two _inseparable_ -expressions. Do not try to preserve one and get rid of the other; -the attempt will fail. If you could effect this divorce, both -would disappear. Religion without miracles is only a human -doctrine; it is simply philosophy, which has no right to -penetrate the mysteries of the infinite, and which can only speak -in hypotheses, without force and without authority. - -There is no way, then, to help it: miracles must be admitted. -This is the great stumbling-block. - -It is said: "That would be allowed when the world was young, and -when man himself, ignorant and a novice, had not demonstrated for -so many centuries the stability of nature's laws! -{465} -Then he could suppose that there was some hidden power, which at -certain times and for certain ends played with these laws and -suspended them at will; but to-day, in this advanced age, wise as -we are, how can we be expected to bend our enlightened reason to -these uncertainties? how can we give science these injurious -contradictions?" - -Yes, you believe yourselves to be extremely learned. You think -that you thoroughly understand the laws of nature, because from -time to time you have wrested some of her secrets from her; and -these being always more or less marvellous, you immediately -conclude that she has spoken her last word! Strange assumption! -Look behind, and you are right, you have accomplished an immense -distance. Look ahead, and the end is as far as in the days of -your fathers, the distance to be overcome remains always the -same, you have not advanced a single step. Far from adding to -your presumption, the progress of your knowledge should rather -make you feel more keenly your ignorance. The more conquests you -make, the more your radical impotence is shown. Yet you presume -to say that the laws of this world allow or do not allow this or -that, as if you completely understood them, while at every moment -new and unexpected facts, which are granted by yourselves, defeat -your calculations, mock your predictions, and derogate from laws -which you proclaim absolute and eternal! - -No one doubts that a general and permanent order reigns in this -world; but that this order is inexorably determined in its -trifling details, that nothing can alter it, that it will remain -the same for ever, you cannot say any more than can we; or -rather, you, as well as we, are living witnesses that an -unbending mechanism does not govern all things here below. - -Indeed, what do you do, you, a feeble atom, an imperceptible -creature, when you forbid the Sovereign Master the great ordainer -of things, the least deviation, the slightest infraction, of the -laws he has made? Do you not violate these laws so far as you are -able every day, every hour, and in every way? The plant that the -natural order would cause to bloom in summer, you cover with -flowers in winter; you change the flavor and the form of the -fruit, and the color of the flowers; you bend the twigs and -branches, and make them grow against their nature. And it is not -only over vegetation and inanimate objects that you exercise your -caprices. How many living beings have you transformed, and -completely altered their natural mode of life! What unexpected -missions and what strange destinies has your fancy made them -undergo! - -It may be said that these are only little miracles; but after -all, how do the greatest ones differ from them? They are both -infractions upon the apparent order of nature. Is the real order -subverted by this? Is the relation of cause and effect broken -because our gardeners derive and propagate from a graft new and -innumerable varieties? No; and since this is true, there can be -no good reason for refusing to admit a series of deviations above -these of every-day experience. The miraculous cures, the -wonderful transitions from extreme feebleness to health, and the -intuitive power of a saint, which enables him to read the very -thoughts of men, can all be effected without compromising or -menacing the universal order. Everything depends upon the degree -of power you grant the Author of these acts, to him who, holding -all things in his hand, can make the exception as easily as the -rule. - -{466} - -There is but one way to deny absolutely the possibility of -miracles, which has been in all times by instinct and by nature -affirmed by the human race, and that is to suppress God and -profess atheism, either atheism simply in its gross crudity, or -that more delicate and better disguised form which finds favor in -our times, and which honors God by pronouncing his name, but -gives him no other care than the servile protection and the dull -supervision of the worlds he has created, but which he does not -govern. If this is the way in which God must be considered, if -fatalism is the law of the world, let us speak no more of -miracles or of the supernatural; for this is already decided, and -there can be no discussion about it. If, on the contrary, -entering into yourselves, you feel that you are intelligent and -free, ask yourself, Where did I get these wonderful gifts, -liberty and intelligence? Do you get them from yourself? Are they -born in you and only for you? Do you possess them completely? Do -they not emanate from a higher, more perfect, and more abundant -source, in a word, from God himself? Then, if God, if the -Omnipotent, is also the sovereign intelligence and the sovereign -freedom, how do you dare to forbid him to mingle with affairs -here below, to follow with attention the beings he has created, -to watch over their destiny, and to declare his wishes to them by -striking manifestations of his power? He can most certainly do -this, for he is free and all-powerful. With the idea of God thus -presented to the mind, a complete and living God, the question is -completely transformed. And it must be acknowledged that we have -no longer to demonstrate the possibility of miracles: it is for -our opponents to prove their impossibility. - -But the great critics of to-day, at least those who have the most -ability, have carefully refrained from attempting this task. They -attack supernatural facts in a different way, not as being -impossible in themselves, but as lacking proof: in the place of -openly denying them, they try to weaken the authority of those -who attest them. What testimony would then be destroyed by them? -Let it be noted that in the historical statement of natural -facts, even those which are extraordinary and more or less -uncertain, the testimony of men, sustained and strengthened by -constant tradition, is allowed to be sufficient; and, indeed, to -what, in most cases, would our historical knowledge amount, if -this sort of proof were not admissible? But for supernatural -facts they are far less accommodating. Many other guarantees are -demanded. They require ocular proof, which must be made in a -proper way and duly announced by them to be certain. This is the -condition upon which they offer to yield; without it, there is to -be no belief. Whence it would follow, that, whenever the Divinity -proposed to do anything beyond the ordinary laws of nature, it -would be bound to give these opponents notice, so that they could -produce their witnesses. The work would then proceed in their -presence, and, when the miracle was accomplished, they would -immediately begin their statement. Perhaps our readers may think -that we are trying to excite a laugh at their expense, or, at -least, that we are exaggerating. Such is not the case; we are -only echoing their own words, and we could quote from the very -page where this system is set forth as the sole method of -establishing the truth of miracles. However, it is useless to -dwell upon this way of asking for impossible proofs and -proclaiming a readiness to believe, but placing one's belief upon -unheard-of conditions. This is only a subterfuge, an attempt to -evade what they dare not solve, and an effort to destroy in -practice that which they seem theoretically to concede. - -{467} - -There are others more frank, less diplomatic, and perhaps also -less learned, who call things by their right name, and who loudly -declare a new dogma as the great principle of reformed criticism, -and this is the complete denial of supernatural facts. The -manner, the air, and the lofty disdain with which they look down -upon those simple souls, who are credulous enough to believe that -the Almighty is also intelligent and free, should be seen. They -announce that all intercourse between them and us is broken, that -we have nothing to do with their books; they do not care for our -praise or for our censure, since they do not write for us. One is -almost tempted to repay their disdain with interest; but there is -something better to be done. We have just shown that man, with -his limited power and liberty, can modify the laws of nature. Let -us see, now, if God in his infinite sphere has not the same -power, and if there is not some well-known and striking example -of it. - -There is one instance which both in time and by its evidence is -the most convincing of all. It is not one of those facts which we -have learned by narration or by testimony, whether written or -traditional. All narratives can be contested and every witness -can be suspected; but here the fact is its own witness, it is -clear and irrefutable. It is the history of our first parents, of -the commencement of the human race; for our race has had a -commencement, of this there can be no question. No sophist would -dare to say of man, as they have said of the universe, that he -has existed from all eternity. On this point science confirms -tradition, and determines by certain signs the _époque_ when -this earth became habitable. Upon a certain day, then, man was -born; and he was born, as it is hardly necessary for us to say, -in an entirely different manner from that in which one is born -to-day. He was the first of his kind: he was without father or -mother. The laws of nature, on this occasion at least, did not -have their effect. A superior power, working in his own way, has -accomplished something beyond these laws, and in a more simple -and prompt manner, and the world has seen an event take place -which is evidently supernatural. - -This is the reason why some _savants_ have taken so much -pains to find a plausible way to explain scientifically, as a -natural fact, this birth of the first man. Some would persuade us -that this enigma is explained by the transformation of species-- -a singular way of avoiding a miracle, only to fall into a -chimera. Indeed, if anything is proved at all and becomes more -certain as the world grows older, it is that the preservation of -species is an essential principle of all living beings. You may -try, but you cannot succeed in infringing upon this law. The -crossings between closely allied species, and the varieties -produced by them, are smitten after a certain time with -sterility. Are not these impotent attempts, these phantoms of -quickly disappearing creations, the manifest sign that the -creation of a really new species is forbidden to man? Yet would -they try to convince us that in the earliest ages, in times of -ignorance, these kinds of transformations were accomplished -without any effort; while to-day, notwithstanding the perfection -of instruments and of methods, notwithstanding the aid of every -sort that we draw from science, they are radically impossible! -Try, then, to make a man. But, we are answered, this is a matter -of time. It may be so. But only begin, let us see you at work, -and you can have as much time as you please. -{468} -Take thousands of centuries, and yet you can never transform the -most intelligent baboon into a man, even of the most ignorant and -degraded type. - -This dream having disappeared, another is invented. The absurdity -of the transformation of species is admitted, and another theory -is adopted, that of spontaneous generation. The intention is to -establish that man can be born either with or without parents; -that nature is induced by various circumstances to choose one of -these two ways, and that one is not miraculous more than the -other. It is well known what vigorous demonstrations and what -irrefutable evidence science brings against this theory; yet, in -spite of its absurdity, it has been often reproduced and -considered worthy of refutation. But supposing that doubt was yet -possible, and that we could believe in the birth of little -beings, without a germ, without a Creator; now could this mode of -production aid us in solving the question of the birth of the -first man? What is the highest pretension of the defenders of -spontaneous generation? In what state would they put man in the -world? As an embryo, a foetus, or as one newly born? For no one -is permitted to believe in the sudden birth of an adult, in -possession of a body, of physical power, and of mental faculties. -Yet this is exactly the way in which the new inhabitant of the -earth must have been created. He must have been born a man, or -else he could not have protected himself, he could not have found -food to prolong his life, and he could not have perpetuated his -race as the father of the human family. If he had been born in -the state of infancy, without a mother to protect and nourish -him, he would have perished in a single day of cold or hunger. If -this theory, then, had been able to answer the tests to which it -has succumbed, it would yet be of no service in clearing up the -question we are discussing. The only way to solve it -satisfactorily is to admit frankly that it must have been -something superior and unknown to the laws of nature. In order to -explain the appearance of the first man upon this earth, the man -of Genesis is necessary, made by the hand of the Creator. - -This is not a _jeu d'esprit_, an artifice, or a paradox. It -is the undeniable truth. It must be admitted by every one who -will reflect. Every sound mind, which is in good faith and which -carefully considers this question, is invincibly compelled to -solve it in the way that it is solved in the book of Genesis. -There may be doubts about the complete exactness of certain words -and details; but the principal fact, the supernatural fact, the -intervention of a Creator, reason must accept as the best and -most sensible explanation, or rather as the only possible -explanation of that other necessary fact, the birth of an -adolescent or an adult man. - -Here, then, we have a miracle well and duly proved. If this were -the only one, it would be sufficient to justify belief in the -supernatural, to destroy every system of absolute fatalism, to -demonstrate the freedom of the Divinity, and to assert his true -position. But it may be well for us to say, if since the -existence of the human race it had received no proof of the care -of its Creator other than this miraculous act in which it was -created, if no intelligence, no help, or no light had come from -above, what would it know now of the mysteries of its destiny, of -all these great problems which beset it and occupy its attention? -The creation of man does not give us the reason why he was -created. -{469} -This is not one of those miracles from which the light bursts -forth to flood the world. It is a manifestation of divine power: -it does not teach us the divine will. We shall see another fact, -on the contrary, which, though not less mysterious, will speak -far more clearly. This did not happen amid the fleeting shadows -of chaos upon the scarcely hardened earth; but in a completely -civilized world, and at a historical period which can be fully -investigated, this new miracle took place. The clouds will -disappear, and the broad day will gladden all hearts. Blessed -Light! Long promised and awaited, the complement of man's -creation, or, rather, a true and new creation, bringing to -humanity, with love and heavenly pardon, the solution of every -question, the answer to every doubt! - -During the long series of centuries which separates these two -great mysteries, these two great supernatural facts, the creation -and the redemption of man, the human race, guided by its own -light, has not for a moment ceased to search after divine truths -and the secret of its destiny. But it has sought ignorantly, it -has groped in the dark, and it has wandered astray. In every part -of the world the people solved the enigma in their own fashion, -each making its own idol. It is a sad, an incoherent spectacle; -and of all these curious and imperfect forms of worship, which -sometimes become impure and disgusting, there is not one which -gives a complete and satisfactory answer to the moral problems -with which one is harassed. Their pretended answers really answer -nothing, and are but a collection of errors and contradictions. - -Has man been created for such ends as these? Has not his Creator, -in forming him with his hands, in teaching him by an intimate -communication the use of his faculties, made him to see, to love, -and to follow the truth? Yes; and this explains the instinctive -gleams of truth that are found in every portion of the race; but -man has received liberty at the same time that he received -intelligence, and it is this supreme gift which assimilates him -to his Author, and imposes, together with the honor of -personality, the burden of responsibility. He was tried, he had -the power to choose, and he chose the bad; he has failed, he has -fallen. Clearly the fault was followed by the greatest disorder -and distress, and the offended Father withdrew his grace from the -disobedient son. They are separated: the erring one, because he -fears his Judge; the Judge, from his horror of the sin; but the -father lies hid beneath the judge. Will the exile, then, be -eternal? No; for the promise is made to the very ones whose fault -is punished, and the time of mercy is announced in advance, even -at the moment of chastisement. - -Every tie is not yet broken between the Creator and this -unfaithful race. A single bond is maintained, a handful of worthy -servants preserve the benefit of his paternal intercourse. Who -can doubt this? For several thousand years the entire human race, -in all places and in every zone, bows before the works of nature, -deifies them, and adores them. How, then, can it be explained -that one little group of men, and only one, remained faithful to -the idea of a single God? It may be answered that this is -something peculiar to one race; that it embraces more people than -is generally supposed; that it is true of all the Semitic tribes -as well as of the Hebrews. A truly impartial and exceedingly -learned philology, recently published, affirms the contrary. It -is demonstrated that the Jews alone were monotheists. -{470} -Reason certainly cannot forbid us to believe that this unique and -isolated fact was providential, since it was at least most -extraordinary and marvellous. Thus, while the ancient alliance -between man and his Creator continued in a single part of the -globe, a part scarcely perceptible in the immense human family, -while the divine truth, as yet veiled and incomplete, though -without any impure mixture, is revealed as in confidence, and, so -to speak, _privately_ to the modest settlement chosen for -the designs of God, all the rest of the world is abandoned to -chance and wanders at random in religious matters. - -Why, then, only in religious matters? Because it was in this that -the fault took place. Man has foolishly wished to make himself -equal to God in the knowledge of the divine, of the infinite, of -those mysteries which no mind can fathom without God's -assistance. It is another thing in regard to the knowledge of the -finite, to purely human science. God is not jealous of this. What -does he say in exiling and chastising the rebel? Work, that is to -say, use not only your arms, but your mind; become skilful, -powerful, ingenious; make masterpieces; become Homer, Pindar, -AEschylus, or Phidias, Ictinus, or Plato. I allow you to do all, -save attaining to divine things without my aid. There thou wilt -stumble, until I send thee the help I have promised to show thee -the way. Thy reason, thy science, and even thy good sense will -not prevent thee from becoming an idolater. - -Indeed, is it not remarkable that religion in the world of -antiquity should be so inferior to the other branches of human -understanding? Think of the arts, literature, philosophy; -humanity cannot excel them. They were at the summit of -civilization. All that youth and experience combined could bring -forth of the perfect and the beautiful, you see here. These first -attempts are the works of a master, and will live to the latest -ages, always inimitable. But return for a moment, consider the -various religions, question the priests. What an astonishing -disparity! You would believe yourself to be among uncultivated -people. Never were such dissimilar productions seen to spring -from the same evil at the same time and in the same society. On -one side, reason, prudence, justice, and the love of truth; on -the other, a degrading excess of falsehood and credulity. It is -true that, here and there, under these puerile fables, great -truths shine forth; these are the remnants of the primitive -alliance between God and his creature; but they are only -scattered, and are lost in a torrent of errors. The great fault, -the infirmity of these ancient religions, was not the symbolism -which surrounded them, but their essential obscurity and -sterility. These were not capable of saying a single clear and -definite word in regard to the problems of our destiny. Far from -making them clear to the great mass of men, they seemed rather to -try to conceal them under a thick cloud of enigmas and -superstitions. - -This was, however, the only moral culture that the human race, -evidently punished and separated from God, received for thousands -of years. In the place of his priests it had philosophical sects, -schools, and books to tell man his duty. But how many profited by -this help? Who understood the best, the purest, and the greatest -philosophers? How far could their warnings reach? Outside the -limits of Athens, the words of Socrates himself could not -penetrate to relieve a soul, to break a chain, or to make a -virtue take root. Do we say his words? Why, even his death, a -wonderful death, the death of a just man, remained unfruitful and -ignored! - -{471} - -The time became critical; pagan society was entering upon its -last phase and made its last effort; the empire was just born, -and, although it may be said that it could boast, during its long -career, of many days of repose and even of greatness, it was not -without its revolting scenes; and one can say, without any -exaggeration or partisan feeling, that from the reign of Tiberius -it was shown by experience that all purely human means to elevate -the race were visibly at an end. Then it was that, not far from -the region where primitive traditions located the creation of -man, under this sky of the Orient which witnessed the first -miracle, a second was to be accomplished. A sweet, humble, -modest, and at the same time sovereign voice speaks to the people -of Judea in language before unknown; speaks words of peace, of -love, of sacrifice, and of merciful pardon. Whence does this -voice come? Who is this man who says to the unhappy, "Come to me, -I will relieve you, I will carry your burdens with you"? He -touches the sick with his hand, and they are cured; he gives -speech to the mute; he makes the blind see and the deaf hear. As -yet there is nothing excepting these things; but this man knows -the enigma of this world completely; he knows the real end of -life and the true means of attaining it. All these natural -problems, the vexation of human reason, he resolves, he explains -without an effort and without hesitation. He tells us of the -invisible world; he has not imagined it, his eyes have seen it, -and he speaks of it as a witness who had but lately left it. What -he tells us is unassuming, intelligible to every one, to women, -to children, as well as to the learned. How does he come by this -marvellous knowledge? Who were his masters and what were his -lessons? In his early childhood, before lessons and masters, he -knew already more than the synagogue. Studies he never made. He -worked with his hands, gaining his daily bread. Do not seek for -his master upon this earth: his Master is in the highest of the -heavens. - -Is not this the witness of whom we have spoken above, the -superhuman, the necessary witness for the solution of natural -problems and the establishment of true religious dogmas? To say -that such a man is more than a man, that he is a being apart from -and superior to humanity, is not saying enough. We must learn -what he really is. Let us open the candid narratives which -preserve the story of his public mission, of his preaching though -Judea; open the gospels, where the least incident of his acts, -his words, his works, his sufferings, and his bitter agony are -written. Let us see what he says of himself. Does he declare -himself simply a prophet? Does he believe himself to be only -inspired? No; he calls himself the Son of God, not as every other -man, remembering Adam, could have been able to say it. No; he -meant the Son of God in the exact and literal interpretation of -the word, son born directly of the father, the son begotten of -the same substance. - -Try to force the meaning and distort the texts to make them say -less than this, but you cannot succeed. The texts are plain, they -are numerous, and without ambiguity. There are only two ways in -which the divinity of this man can be denied: either his own -testimony must be attacked, if the gospels are admitted to be -true; or the gospels themselves must be rejected. - -{472} - -In order to attack his own evidence, it must be supposed that, by -a lack of sagacity, he in good faith formed a wrong judgment -about his own origin, or perhaps better, by a deceitful -intention, he knowingly attributed to himself a false character. -This being, whose incomparable intelligence forces you to place -him above humanity, this is he who is not capable of discerning -his father. And on the other side, this inimitable moralist, this -chaste and beautiful model of all virtues, this is he whom you -suspect of a disgraceful artifice. There is no middle course: -either this mortal must be the Son of God, as he has declared, or -you must put him in the last rank of humanity, among the innocent -dupes or the cunning charlatans. - -Or, on the contrary, do you wish to attack the gospels? Nothing -is less difficult, if you remain at the surface. Arm yourself -with irony, provoke the smile, treat everything in a superficial -manner, and you will certainly gain the sympathy of the scoffers. -But if you wish to investigate the things, and to take, in the -name of science, an impartial view, you will be compelled to -acknowledge that most of the facts in the gospels are -historically established; that they are neither myths nor -legends; that the place, the time, and the persons are absolutely -put beyond all doubt. What right, then, has any one to refuse -credence to this series of facts, where another series, which is -admitted, is sustained by no better witnesses, nor more direct -proofs, nor any other superiority, except a pretended probability -which is determined by each for himself? Nothing can be more -arbitrary and less scientific than this way of making a choice, -deciding that this evangelist should be implicitly believed when -he is mentioning such a speech, but that, when he tells us what -he saw himself, he is no longer trustworthy; and that this one, -on the contrary, falsifies the discourses that he reports, but -that he announces certain facts with the certitude of an ocular -witness. All this is only pure caprice. But it is certain that -the gospels, however closely they may be examined, bear the -criticism successfully, and ever remain imperishable. What book -of Herodotus or of Titus Livius carries such an intrinsic -evidence of good faith and veracity as the recitals of St. -Matthew or of St. John? Are you not charmed with these two -apostles, who frankly tell us what they have seen with their eyes -and heard with their ears? If you, who were not there and who saw -nothing of these things, believe that you can give them a lesson, -and tell them, in virtue of your scientific laws, how all these -things happened without their understanding them, and by what -subterfuges their adorable Master deceived them, it will not be -only the orthodox and faithful who will resent and controvert -your boldness--voices that you dread more, from the midst of -your own ranks, will openly proclaim your falsehoods. [Footnote -101] - - [Footnote 101: "The human soul, as some one has said, is - great enough to enclose every contrast. There is room in it - for a Mohammed or a Cromwell, for fanaticism together with - duplicity, for sincerity and hypocrisy. It remains for us to - ascertain if this analogy should be extended to the Founder - of Christianity. _I do not hesitate to deny it_. His - character, when impartially considered, opposes every - supposition of this kind. There is in the simplicity of - Jesus, in his artlessness, in his candor, in the religious - feeling which possessed him so completely, in the absence of - all mere personal designs, of every egotistic end, and of all - cunning; in a word, there is in all that we know concerning - him something which entirely repels the historical - comparisons by which M. Rénan has allowed himself to be - governed."--M. Edmond Scherer, _Mélanges d'Histoire - Réligieuse_, pp. 93, 94.] - -After all, suppose they were deceived, that the hero of this -great drama was only a skilful impostor, what do you really gain -by it? The miracles cannot be thrown aside. On the contrary, you -have one miracle more, and one which is more difficult than all -the others to explain. It is necessary to account for this most -wonderful fact, that cannot be suppressed by any critic, the -establishment of Christianity in the Roman Empire. -{473} -Take every sentence of the gospels, accept these supernatural -facts without reservation, the cures, the exorcisms, the elements -stilled, the laws of nature violated or suspended: all these -things are not too much, rather they had hardly enough to make us -understand the triumphant progress of such a doctrine, in such a -time, and among such a people. Nothing less than miracles could -transform the world in this manner, changing all the opinions -commonly received, completely altering the moral and social state -of the people, and not only giving them purer and more -enlightened views, but truths which were entirely unknown to -them. If, then, you tell the truth, if this stupendous revolution -rests upon a comedy, if we must consider the partial miracles -false which surround and explain the principal miracle, which -precede and seem to prepare and open the way for the great -miracle, what will be the result? You have not destroyed, and -cannot destroy, the principal miracle: it has become still more -miraculous. - - - IV. - -Let us not lose sight of our argument. We were seeking a -practical and popular way to solve the great problems of our -destiny, and we have proven that human science alone is unequal -to this task. We have seen that there is only one way for man to -attain this end, that satisfactory solutions can only be derived -from faith, that wonderful gift which under the authority of a -superhuman witness makes us believe with certitude things which -neither the eyes of the body nor the eyes of the mind could -immediately comprehend. Has the witness which lies at the -foundation of Christian convictions the wished-for authority? In -other words, is it truly divine? We believe that we have -established it, and the most hasty reading of a single page of -the Bible will demonstrate it far more clearly than we have done. -See also the admirable harmony of the Christian system, and the -responses, as clear as they are sublime, it gives to questions so -long unanswerable. It is by its capacity to penetrate mysteries -to read the invisible, to explain the obscure, not less than by -its miraculous victory, that Christianity demonstrates both the -true character of its origin and the sincerity of its divine -Founder. - -We remember on this subject some moving sentences that we will be -permitted to quote. They are from an author who recently received -an eloquent tribute of regrets and praises, and who, for the past -twenty years, has been remembered with grief by all the friends -of sound philosophy. In a well-known lecture, when considering -these same problems of human destiny, M. Jouffroy spoke thus: - - "There is a little book that is taught to children, and upon - which they are questioned in the church. Read this little book, - which is the catechism. You will find in it a solution of all - the questions I have asked--of all, without an exception. Ask a - Christian the origin of the human race, what is its destiny, - and how it can attain it, and he can answer you. Ask that poor - child, who has scarcely thought of life and its duties, why he - is here below, what will become of him after death, and he will - make a sublime answer which he may not fully comprehend, but - which is not the less admirable. Ask him how the world was - created and for what end; why God has put animals and plants - upon it; how the world was peopled, if by one family or by - several; why men speak different languages, why they suffer, - why they combat, and how all these things will end; and he - knows it all. -{474} - Origin of the world, origin of man, questions about the - different races, destiny of man in this life and in the other, - relation of man to God, duties of man toward his fellow-men, - rights of man over creation, he is ignorant of none of these - things; and as he becomes matured, he will not hesitate to take - advantage of his natural and political rights, for he knows the - rights of the people, for these come, or, as it were, flow of - themselves, from Christianity. This is what I call a great - religion. I recognize by this sign that it leaves none of the - questions which interest humanity without an answer." [Footnote - 102] - - [Footnote 102: _Mélanges Philosophiques_, - par M. Th. Jouffroy. Vol. i. 1833, p. 470.] - -We love to read again these words of a master and a friend, who -in his youth was nourished with Christian truths, and who, -perhaps, would have tasted them again if the trials of life had -been prolonged for him. Without doubt, it is necessary to avoid -indorsing opinions which are no longer our own sentiments; but -certainly it can be permitted to preserve a faithful and complete -remembrance of their spirit. Even at the time when M. Jouffroy -doubted, when he left his pen and told us with assurance how -Christian dogmas would die, there would have been but very little -necessary to teach him to his cost how they perpetuate -themselves! Faith has its evil days; its ranks seem decimated and -its army dissolved, but it can never perish. In order to replace -deserters, to recruit its strength unceasingly, has it not the -sorrows and miseries of this world, the need of prayer, and the -thirst of hope? - -Let us leave this sweet and profound thinker whose brilliant -career we love to trace; let us return to that great and firm -soul who now engages our attention, and to whom we are attached -by so many friendly ties and remembrances. Without having -followed him step by step, we have not lost sight of him. We have -taken a hasty glance at his work in trying to express its spirit. -We must now return to each of these meditations in detail. What -things have escaped us! What brilliant passages, what keen -observations, what profound thoughts! At most, we have only taken -account of that part of the book where the limits of science, the -belief in the supernatural, and especially the marvellous harmony -between Christian dogmas and religious problems, that are innate -to man, are treated with so much wisdom and authority. That which -M. Jouffroy, in the remarks we have quoted, indicates in a single -glance, M. Guizot establishes with convincing arguments by -comparing each dogma with the natural problem to which it -corresponds. No one has yet so accurately explained the -harmonious relation of these questions and these answers. There -are two _morceaux_ which demand particular attention: they -are the two _meditations_ on the revelation and inspiration -of the holy books. There are here ideas and distinctions of rare -sagacity which point out what justly belongs to human ignorance, -without allowing the reality of inspiration of the Bible to -suffer the slightest suspicion. But the chief triumph of this -work, that which gives it at once its most charming color and its -sweetest perfume, are the last two meditations, _God according -to the Bible, Jesus Christ according to the Gospels_. - -{475} - -These two pictures are in as different styles as the subjects -they contrast. Nothing could be bolder, more striking, more truly -Biblical, than the portrait of the God of the Hebrews; of that -God "who has no biography, no personal events," to whom nothing -happens, with whom nothing changes, always and invariably the -same, immutable in the midst of diversity and of universal -movement. "I am he who is." He has nothing else to say of -himself; it is his definition, his history. No one can know more -of him, even as no one can see him. And if he were visible, what -a misfortune! His glance is death. Between him and man what an -abyss! - -It is a long distance to traverse between such a God and the God -of the New Testament--from Jehovah to Jesus Christ. What novelty, -what a transformation! The solitary God goes out from his unity; -he completes everything, yet remains himself; the provoked God -lays aside his anger, he is affected, he is pacified, he becomes -gentle, he gives man his love, he loves him enough to redeem his -fault with his Son's blood, that is, with his own blood. It is -this victim, this Son, obedient even unto death, that M. Guizot -endeavors to paint for us. Sublime portrait, attempted many -times, but always in vain! Shall we say that he has succeeded in -this impossible task? No; but he has made a most happy effort. He -makes us pass successively before his divine model, by showing -the attitudes, if we may be allowed the expression, which enable -us to see the most touching aspects of this incomparable figure. -Sometimes he places him amid his disciples only, that chosen and -well-loved flock; sometimes in the Jewish crowd in the Temple, at -the foot of the mountain, or on the border of the lake; sometimes -among the fishermen or the sedate matrons; sometimes with artless -children. In each of these pictures, he gathers, he brings -together, he animates by reuniting them, the scattered -characteristics of Jesus Christ. His sober and guarded style, -powerful in its reasoning, brilliant in its contests, seems to be -enriched with new chords by the contact with so much sympathy and -tender love. It is not only the impassioned eloquence, but it is -a kind of emotion, more sweet and more penetrating, that you feel -while reading his thoroughly Christian pages. - -We understand the happy effect that this book has already -produced upon certain souls. Its influence, however, cannot -descend to the masses. Its tone, its style, its thoughts, have -not aspired to popular success; but from the middling classes and -the higher circles of society, how many drifting souls there are -to whom this unexpected guide will lend a timely aid! Such a -Christian as he is must work this kind of cure. He is not the man -of the workmen; he has neither gown nor cassock. It is a -spontaneous tribute to the faith, and more than this, for it -declares that he too has known and vanquished the anxieties of -doubt. Every one, then, can do as he has done. No one fears to -follow the steps of a man who occupies such a position in the -empire of thought, who has given such proofs of liberty of spirit -and of deep wisdom. It is not a slight rebuke to certain -intelligent but careless Catholics to see such an example of -submission and faith come from a Protestant. - -There is yet a greater and more general service that these -_Meditations_ seem to have fulfilled. During the eight or -ten months since they were published, the tone of antichristian -polemics has been much depressed. One would have expected a -manifestation of rage, but there has been nothing of the kind. -{476} -The most vehement critics are reserved, and their attacks have -principally consisted in silence. Hence a sort of momentary lull. -Many causes, without doubt, contributed in advance to this -result, if it were only the excess of the attack and the -impertinence of certain assailants; but the book, or to speak -more properly, the action of M. Guizot, has, in our opinion, its -own good part in this work. So clear and vigorous a profession of -faith could not be lightly attacked. In order to answer a man who -frankly calls himself a Christian, it would be necessary to have -resolved and to declare openly that one is antichristian; but -those who are, no longer care to acknowledge it. It is well known -that our day is pleased with half-tints; it has a taste for -shadows, and is always ready to strike its flag when it sees an -opponent's colors. Christianity itself gathers some profit from -the little noise that is made about these _Meditations_. It -is not the least reward of their author. May he continue in the -same tone, compelling his adversaries to persevere in their -silence. He will embarrass them more and more, while he will -always add fresh courage and power to those who are sustaining -the good cause. - --------- - - Saint Mary Magdalen. - - From The Latin Of Petrarch. - - -The following lines were written by the great Italian poet, -Petrarch, on the occasion of a visit to Sainte-Baume, near -Marseilles, where tradition points out the tomb of Saint Mary -Magdalen. He inscribed them on the grotto, in which she is said -to have passed the last thirty years of her life. - - - Dulcis amica Dei, lacrymis inflectere nostris, - Atque meas attende preces, nostraeque saluti - Consule: namque potes. Neque enim tibi tangere frustra - Permissum, gemituque pedes perfundere sacros, - Et nitidis siccare comis, ferre oscula plantis, - Inque caput Domini pretiosos spargere odores. - Nec tibi congressus primos a morte resurgens - Et voces audire suas et membra videre, - Immortale decus lumenque habitura per aevum, - Nequicquam dedit aetherei rex Christus Olympi. - Viderat ille cruci haerentem, nee dira paventem - Judaicae tormenta manus, turbaeque furentis - Jurgia et insultus, aequantes verbera linguas; - Sed maestam intrepidamque simul, digitisque cruentos - Tractantem clavos, implentem vulnera fletu, - Pectora tundentem violentis candida pugnis, - Vellentem flavos manibus sine more capillos. - Viderat haec, inquam, dum pectora fida suorura - Diffugerent pellente metu. Memor ergo revisit - -{477} - - Te primam ante alios; tibi se priùs obtulit uni. - Te quoque, digressus terris ad astra reversus, - Bis tria lustra, cibi nunquàm mortalis egentem - Rupe sub hâc aluit, tarn longo tempore solis - Divinis contenta epulis et rore salubri - Haec domus antra tibi stillantibus humida saxis, - Horrifico tenebrosa situ, tecta aurea regum, - Delicias omnes ac ditia vicerat arva. - Hìc inclusa libens, longis vestita capillis, - Veste carens aliâ, ter denos passa decembres - Diceris, hìc non fracta gelu nec victa pavore. - Namque famem, frigus, durum quoque saxa cubile - Dulcia fecit amor spesque alto pectore fixa. - Hìc hominum non visa oculis, stipata catervis - Angelicis, septemque die subvecta per horas, - Coelestes audire choros alterna canentes - Carmina, corporeo de carcere digna fuisti. - - - Translation. - - Sweet friend of God! my tears attend, - Hark to me suppliant and defend-- - O thou, all-potent to befriend! - - Not vain that care thou didst accord-- - Thy hands, uplifted o'er thy Lord, - Upon his head sweet odors poured, - - And touched his feet with unguents rare-- - The kiss of love imprinted there-- - And wiped them with thy beauteous hair. - - Not vain, when he in majesty - Rose up from death, 'twas given to thee - The first to meet, to hear, to see. - - This glory did the Lord divine, - The Christ august, to thee assign, - Made this unending splendor thine. - - Unto his cross he saw thee cling, - Unawed by threat and buffeting-- - The taunts the furious rabble fling; - - For him he saw thee lashed with scorn, - Yet clasping, faithful and forlorn, - Those feet with nails now pierced and torn. - -{478} - - He watched thy tear-drenched face below-- - Thy bosom stricken in thy woe-- - Thy long fair hair's dishevelled flow. - - All this he saw, while from his side - His other loved ones scattered wide, - And left alone their Crucified. - - 'Twas therefore, mindful of those sighs, - He, deigning from the tomb to rise, - Sought his first welcome from thine eyes. - - And heavenward when from earth he sped, - Through thrice ten years for thee here spread - A feast by angels ministered. - - This rugged cave obscure and lone, - Black rock-dews dripping down the stone. - For thee a regal palace shone. - - No fields with harvest wealth besprent - Accord such manna as was sent; - Thy needs did heavenly gifts content. - - Here through December's frost and sleet. - Thy long hair, falling to thy feet. - Enrobed thee in a robe complete. - - No fear appalled; love made thee bold; - Love sweetened sufferings manifold. - The rock, the hunger, and the cold. - - Here, hid from mortal eyes, to be - Cheered with celestial company. - Angelic bands encompassed thee. - - And still a dweller in our sphere. - Seven hours each day rapt hence, thine ear - The alternate choirs of heaven could hear. - - C. E. R - -------- - -{479} - - - Glimpses Of Tuscany. - - Santa Maria Del Fiore--The Duomo. - - - I. - -We are approaching Florence by rail from Pisa, a dismal, dripping -February morning. It is twelve years since I first saw that -famous Duomo of Santa Maria del Fiore. I came suddenly upon it, -as I was trying to find my way alone to the opera at the Pergola, -the first night I got to Florence. I shall never forget the -impression it made on me--an honest, original impression, for I -had never read or heard of the Piazza and its wonders. I only -knew Giotto by his "O." Orgagna, Arnolfo, Brunelleschi, were -names utterly unknown. But the beauty and immensity of that -mighty square, asleep in the starlight, overwhelmed me. It was -like a step, unawares, from time into eternity. No Pergola that -night for me. I crept back to the hotel, bewildered and awed into -something like earnestness; for the Lord seemed enthroned in that -consecrated place, and I was afraid of him as he sat there, -stern, conscious, omnipotent. - -But I was younger then; disposed to go into raptures over -everything artistic, especially Italian art. The decade between -thirty and forty diminishes one's enthusiasm dreadfully. I am -almost afraid to meet my old favorite now, lest the spell of a -fine remembrance should be broken for ever. But the train is -rushing on, the road curves, and there's the same Duomo, looking -as if Our Lady of Flowers herself had settled down on the city, -with Giotto's campanile, like an archangel, standing guard beside -her. There she sits in her gray mantle, grayer through the mist -and snow, queen of all the landscape--grander, lighter, lovelier -than ever. - -Here we are at the station, and now driving past the baptistery; -but, far or near, that cupola ever full in view like a guardian -presence. You do not wonder here, as before Saint Peter's, what -has become of the cupola; you are not obliged to fall back a -league to see what is nearly overhead. Nave, transept, and -tribune go swelling up, with buttress and demi-cupola diminishing -as they ascend, and all converging into one enormous drum from -which springs the central dome. Dante could see it from his chair -in its very shadow. Arnolfo and Brunelleschi may see it from -their seats of marble scarce twenty yards from the -foundation-stone. Angelo may see it from his home in Santa Croce. -The masons of Fiesole can see it from their hills, the peasants -of San Casciano from their vineyards; and, far down the Arno, the -boatmen from Pisa look up to it as they plod wearily along. - -I am domesticated in Florence; the slow Tuscan spring is passing -into summer; and, from being simply a joy, this great cathedral -has become a study. Arnolfo, son of Lapo, or Cambio, was the -great stone-poet who traced that ground-plan, itself an epic. He -was commissioned by those wonderful republicans to construct a -church, as worthy as man could make it of the glory of God and -the dignity of the city of Florence. -{480} -The inclination of Arnolfo's genius was toward the Gothic; but he -was a many-sided and myriad-minded man. His walls of Florence -suggest the Egyptian, his court of the Bargello the Saracenic, -his Palazzo Vecchio a perfectly new idea. He has all the -versatility of Shakespeare. Arnolfo's first conception of Santa -Maria del Fiore may still be seen in fresco, copied from the last -wooden model, in the Spanish Cloister of Santa Maria Novella. Up -to the first cornice, the cathedral, as it now stands, is almost -as purely Gothic as the campanile; and, by reference to the -fresco, you will perceive that Arnolfo's original idea was to -carry this Gothic treatment up to the very cross that crowns the -lantern. For instance, the lantern in the fresco is without -either ball or scroll, the clerestory buttressed, and with -pointed instead of circular lights, the windows of the cupola -pointed. Yet, as it is certain that Arnolfo lived to finish the -clerestory, and to unite (_serrare_) the smaller cupolas and -tribunes, it is clear these variations in his plan, these -departures from the pointed, these approximations to the round, -were deliberately made by Arnolfo himself, or by his direction. -As the work advanced, he felt that something more must be -conceded to the coming cupola. It was not enough to have it -octagonal instead of spherical, and enrich its eight marble ribs -with Gothic tracery; the antagonism between the two styles must -be met and softened from the start. See how gradually this is -done, and at what an early stage these concessions begin. In the -fresco, the blind arches, both over the lower tribunal windows -and just under the lower tribunal cornice, are slightly pointed; -in the building itself they are round; the niches above the -cornice, also, are pointed in the picture and round-topped in the -stone. It is more than probable that these concessions were -dictated by the greater prominence which the cupola was assuming -in Arnolfo's new vision of his temple. Now is it impossible, that -he might have nearly anticipated the exact plan of the heir of -his inspiration and partner of his glory? The tendency is that -way. But, with the completion of the clerestory and the -unification of the smaller cupolas, Arnolfo departs, and, after -an interval of a century and a quarter, Brunelleschi enters. - -There they are, seated side by side in marble, close to the stone -that marks where Dante, too, sat gazing at their Duomo. Arnolfo -looks more like a dreamer than a doer, although he was both; in -Ser Brunelleschi's face there is more of the mathematician than -the poet. He could never have traced that ground-plan, never have -dreamed that shining archangel called the campanile; but he did -what neither the pupil of Cimabue nor the son of Cambio could -perhaps have managed as well, he built that matchless cupola. -Brunelleschi had his one great dream, the solution of a vast and -novel architectural difficulty. What Arnolfo had hinted became -his grand ideal. He nursed his dream for years at Rome, communing -with the spirit of classic art; at last he told his dream in -Florence, and with infinite difficulty got leave to act it out. -Since that noble _carte blanche_ to Arnolfo, Florence had -declined; she was no longer up to the proud standard of that -earlier day. The superintendents are slippery and slow in -engaging Filippo; and Filippo himself must _finesse_ more -than a little to secure the engagement. -{481} -There is this difference, to be sure, that the Duomo was the -culmination of Arnolfo's professional career and but the -beginning of his successor's; that the latter, like all gallant -adventurers, had to win his spurs before he could be fully -trusted. Still, the two inseparable elements of self and gain are -more conspicuous here than in the purer Christian ages, whose -architects disdained or forbore to register their names; whose -works preserve no personal memorial of their masters; "so that," -says Vasari, "I cannot but marvel at the simplicity and -indifference to glory exhibited by the men of that period." There -is, unfortunately, no such simplicity to marvel at now. - -As early as 1407, Filippo submitted an opinion to the -superintendents of the works of Santa Maria del Fiore, and to the -syndics of the guild of wool-workers, (powerful gentlemen in -those days,) that the edifice above the roof must be constructed, -not after the design of Arnolfo; but that a frieze, thirty feet -high, must be erected with a large window in each of its sides. -This suggestion, together with the additional thirty feet for the -gallery, comprised the single, sublime conception to which the -Duomo owes its crowning beauty; the rest of the task is chiefly -mechanical. But such immense mechanics require immense genius. -Filippo had supplied the idea, but there was no one found wise -enough to execute it. The wardens and syndics were much -perplexed; and Filippo, after laughing at them in his sleeve, -returned to Rome. He had hardly gone before they wrote him to -return. He came; and after patiently listening to the long array -of difficulties which mediocrity always opposes to the -inspiration of genius, admitted that the most enormous dome of -ancient or modern times must present certain difficulties in its -erection, like other great enterprises; that he was confounded no -less by the breadth than by the height of the edifice; that if -the tribune could be vaulted in a circular form, one might pursue -the method adopted by the Romans in erecting the Pantheon; but -that following up the eight sides of the building to a -convergence, thus dove-tailing, and, so to speak, enchaining the -stones, would be a most difficult and novel undertaking. -"Yet"--and this touch is worthy of Arnolfo's age or any -other--"yet, remembering that this is a temple consecrated to God -and the Virgin, I confidently trust that, for a work executed in -their honor, they will not fail to infuse knowledge where it is -now wanting, and bestow strength, wisdom, and genius on him who -shall be the author of such a project." Nothing can shake -Filippo's joyous trust in himself; he acts as if he carries a -divine commission in his pocket to finish what Arnolfo began, and -can therefore afford to laugh at all human appointments or -interference. With amazing confidence and magnanimity, he -concludes his interview with their worships by exhorting them to -assemble, on a fixed day within a year, as many architects as -they can get together; not Tuscans and Italians only, but -Germans, French, and all other nations, "to the end that the work -may be commenced and intrusted to him who shall give the best -evidence of capacity." The syndics and wardens liked Filippo's -advice, and would also have liked him to prepare a model for -their edification. But with all his piety and self-reliance, Ser -Brunelleschi was a Florentine like their worships, and therefore -keen enough to keep his model to himself. It then suddenly -occurred to these grave gentlemen that money might be an object -to Filippo, as it occasionally is to other men; and so they voted -him a sum, not stated by Vasari, but not large enough to justify -his remaining in Florence. So back to Rome once more marches the -Ser Brunelleschi. - -{482} - -Meanwhile that noble city of Florence has ordered her merchants -resident abroad to send her at any cost the best foreign masters. -In the year 1420, these best foreign masters, and best Italian -masters besides, and the syndics and superintendents, and a -select number of distinguished citizens, and little Filippo -himself, just returned from Rome, are all assembled in the hall -of the wardens of Santa Maria del Fiore. After listening to a -hundred absurd plans, Brunelleschi unfolds his own at full -length. Whereupon the assembled syndics, superintendents, and -citizens, instead of being at all edified by his remarks, -proceeded to call him a simpleton, an ass, a madman, and bade him -discourse of something else. Which he, instead of doing, stuck to -his point, and finally lost his temper and flew in their faces. -Whereupon they called him a fool and a babbler; and considering -him absolutely mad, arose against him as one man, and -incontinently turned him out of doors by the head and heels. -Imagine the rage of Arnolfo the Goth, after such treatment; or -Angelo the mighty, stalking down the Via Romana; or Dante, -wandering ghost-like into eternal exile! The indomitable, -practical Filippo did none of these things, but prudently shut -himself up at home lest people in the streets should call out, -"See where goes that fool!" "It was not the fault of these men," -says the sympathetic Vasari, "that Filippo did not break in -pieces the models, set fire to the designs, and in one half-hour -destroy all the labors so long endured, and ruin the hopes of so -many years." But Filippo was less a poet, enamoured of an inward -vision of beauty, than an architect determined to solve an -architectural problem. Plainly enough, since Arnolfo had set the -example in the clerestory, the windows of the cupola were also to -be circular instead of pointed. His inventive faculties were -therefore restricted to the organization of that vast dream, to -the determination of the ascending curves and the conception of -the lantern. It was not the offspring of his soul, but of his -mind, that Filippo had offered the syndics and superintendents; -and the inventor of new combinations and possibilities of matter -is apt to possess a more elastic temperament than the creator of -new forms of beauty. Instead of fretting himself to death or -cultivating the princely revenge of silence, Filippo, strong in -his mission and calculating on the proverbial caprice of his -native Florence, began to experiment on individuals instead of -assemblies; so successfully, too, that another session was soon -convened. Profiting by discomfiture, Filippo modified his -tactics. He salutes the superintendents as "_magnificent_ -signors and wardens," and condescends to be more explicit about -his still hidden model. He even goes so far as to prove the -dome-within-a-dome, which had so enraged their excellencies, a -possibility. He spoke with such emphasis and confidence, that "he -had all the appearance of having vaulted ten such cupolas." In a -word, they surrendered at discretion; and, rather in despair than -hope, made him principal master of the works. The man of talents -was victorious where a mere man of genius would have been badly -beaten. But--in these artistic complications there is always a -but--Lorenzo Ghiberti, just famous for his doors of Paradise, was -a favorite in Florence; so Florence resolved to associate Lorenzo -with Filippo. This was a bitter pill to Ser Brunelleschi, but he -swallowed it; and for two years they worked together at the -twelve braccia to which their labors were limited by the wardens. -{483} -But--there was also a 'but' on the right side--when the closing -in of the cupola toward the top commenced, and the masons and -other masters were wailing in expectation of directions as to the -manner in which the chains were to be applied and the -scaffoldings erected, it chanced on one fine morning that Filippo -did not appear at the works. On inquiry, it turned out that he -had tied up his head, called for hot plates and towels, and gone -to bed complaining bitterly. An attack of pleurisy. Most -inopportunely; for at this most critical moment in the enterprise -the whole burthen fell on Lorenzo. Lorenzo was besieged by -practical questions; Lorenzo was persecuted with a thousand -interrogatories; Lorenzo waded completely out of his depth into a -sea of troubles; the masons and stone-cutters came to a stand, -and finally the work stood still. At this juncture, the syndics -and wardens resolved to pay the sick man a visit. They condoled -with him in his illness and also lamented the disorder which had -attacked the building. "Is not Lorenzo there?" asked the -sufferer. "He will not do anything without you," replied the -wardens. "_But I could do well enough without him_," -murmured the invalid. The wardens withdrew, and sent Filippo a -prescription in the shape of an announcement of their intention -to remove Lorenzo. Filippo instantly recovered, but only to find -his rival still in place and power. Whereupon he made one more -prayer to their worships, namely, to divide the labor as they -divided the salary, and give each his own separate sphere of -action. This was granted: the chain-work assigned to Lorenzo, the -scaffolding to Filippo. The scaffolding proved a miracle of -success, the chain-work a monument of failure. The wardens, and -syndics, and superintendents, and influential citizens, fairly -driven to the wall, made Filippo chief superintendent of the -whole fabric _for life_, commanding that nothing should be -done in the work save by his direction. How much richer the world -would now be in every department of art, had half its men of -genius but possessed a tithe of Brunelleschi's elasticity and -determination. - -Left to himself, Filippo worked with so much zeal and minute -attention, that not a stone was placed in the building which he -had not examined. The very bricks, fresh from the oven, are said -to have been set apart with his own hands. So conscientious were -the builders of those days when art was supreme and religion a -practical inspiration. The energy and resources of this model -architect are inexhaustible. Nothing escapes him. Outlets and -apertures are provided, both in security against the force of the -winds, and against the vapors and vibrations of the earth. -Wine-shops and eating-houses are opened in the cupola. High over -Florence, Filippo is undisputed lord and master of a small town -of his own. - -And so, for twenty-six years, they wrought under his eyes at this -architectural miracle. He lived to see the lantern carried to the -height of several braccia: it was not finished till fifteen years -after his death. He left plans for the gallery, which were either -lost, stolen, or destroyed. That great, broad belt of dingy brick -and mortar clamoring to earth and heaven for completion, ruins -the effect of the dome and gives the whole edifice a shabby -appearance. Only one of the eight sides is finished. -{484} -This was done in Carrara marble by Baccio d'Agnolo, and would -have been carried all around the dome but for the interference of -Michael Angelo, then omnipotent in Italy, who denounced it as a -mere cage for crickets; adding that he himself would show Baccio -what he _ought_ to do. The old art-dictator made a model -accordingly, which, after long debate, was rejected. So our Lady -of Flowers still lacks her girdle. It is much to be regretted, -since Michael could suggest nothing better, that he did not hold -his peace. The present model may not be faultless, but it is -infinitely better than nothing; and no one else has suggested -anything as good. It was condemned, not as defective in itself, -but unequal to the magnificence of the building; and, also, -because it seemed to violate some secret purpose of -Brunelleschi's in cutting off, as it did, the line of stones -which he had left projecting. Be this as it may, Filippo's -purpose has never been divined and never can be; all the plans of -the great masters are lost; and there seems to be small use in -continuing the interdict of a much over-estimated authority till -doomsday. That cestus of alternate head and garland just under -the colonnade is abominable, but it is difficult to see how the -present design could otherwise be improved. It harmonizes with -all the windows, and niches, and arches in the tribune; it -relieves the blankness of the perforations, and is in sympathy -both with the windows of the lantern and the upper window of the -campanile. It is the sub-dominant without which the blended -Gothic and classic is a discord. Arnolfo might have done it -better, but no one else. It is a poem which Baccio was as well -qualified to trace as any of the rest of them. - -Apart from his glorious consummation of the Duomo, I do not like -Brunelleschi. He did more than any other man to repel the Gothic -influences, which, under Arnolfo and others, were penetrating -Tuscany; he insured the triumph of the round arch over the -pointed, and paved the way to the monstrosities of the -Renaissance. But his cupola of Santa Maria del Fiore is the -supreme miracle of architecture. It exceeds the cupola of the -Vatican, both in height and circumference, by eight feet; and -although supported by eight ribs only, which renders it lighter -than that of Saint Peter's, which has sixteen flanked buttresses, -is nevertheless more solid and firm. Unlike the Roman dome, it -has stood unassisted and unstrengthened from the first; so firmly -grounded by the forethought of Arnolfo, so closely knit by the -energies of Filippo, that it has not sunk or swerved an inch in -four centuries. The noblest speech that Buonarotti ever made was, -that he would not copy, but could not surpass it; the finest -compliment ever paid by one man of genius to another was his -dying wish to be buried where he might arise, not in sight of his -own Pantheon in the air, but in full view of the vaulted tribune -of Santa Maria del Fiore. Another name, however, is associated -with the growth of the Duomo--a name not inferior to either -Arnolfo or Filippo. Just beside the vast cathedral is the -wondrous bell-tower Giotto reared--his solitary, or only -conspicuous architectural feat. Before Giotto's time, the modern -painters copied nature about as closely as most actors and -orators now do; that is, their men and women bore only a weak, -conventional resemblance to humanity. The son of Bondone -inaugurated the naturalistic movement which culminated in Da -Vinci and Raphael; unquestionably a most honorable distinction. -But what can all he ever painted, judged as a living fact, amount -to when weighed against the startling splendor of this divine -campanile? -{485} -I have seen something of Giotto, far from all, but enough to know -that, save as undeveloped germs and hints, his pictures are -little more than crudities belonging to the infancy of art, -amazing at his time, but not more than curious at ours. But this -campanile, into which he suddenly ascended without an effort, is -the transfiguration of architecture--the product of an art at its -best and highest. Architecture never had advanced, never has -advanced a step beyond it. It might be added, never can advance; -for beyond a certain recognized point in the realization of -beauty, human genius is not permitted to push its way. Vasari -devotes thirty pages to the consideration of Giotto's pictures, -and but one to the campanile. Yet these pictures are mouldering -in convents or shrouded in chapels, or buried in dim galleries, -scattered far and wide over the world; and, save over some -ambitious student or patient virtuoso, they no longer exist as a -spell or a power. But this lofty campanile is a perpetual -influence; an influence as indestructible as the Iliad--a joy as -unceasing as the joy of sunrise--the joy of a work that is -perfection of its kind. So fair, so frail, and yet so firm! It -does not need the glass case suggested by imperial condescension. -It knows how to take the lightning and the storm. It knows how to -bear the weight and thunder of its mellow bells. Its beautiful -head is at home in the skies, and seems to belong to heaven as -much as the flowers belong to earth. - -Giotto's plan would have crowned it with a spire of a hundred -feet; but, whether for true artistic considerations, or because -it was Gothic, or because it was too expensive, succeeding -architects have always advised its omission. - -Besides its own independent loveliness, this bell-tower exercises -an important influence over the group to which it belongs, not -only by the development of form, but also by the subtler -qualification of style. But for the pure Gothic of Giotto, the -predominance of the round in the tribunes and cupola would -overwhelm Arnolfo's pointed witchery beneath the clerestory. As -it is, the supremacy of the classic at one end of the stately -pile is balanced by the ascendency of the Gothic at the other. -High up in air the pious rivalry between the two great styles is -continued, each lifting its choicest offering to the very -footstool of the Padre Eterno, each doing its best in honor of -our Lady of Flowers. - -The facade of Santa Maria is wanting, like her girdle. Giotto is -said to have finished two thirds of it, subsequently torn down -_to be restored in a more modern style!_ The fresco in the -cloister of San Marco gives only part of it, and I could make but -little of that. As I remember the fresco of Arnolfo's facade, it -was meant to be composed of statues, niches, and -pillars--something as deep and rich as the façade at Pisa. -Whoever may finish it, let us trust that the shallow mosaic of -Santa Croce will be avoided. The baptistery completes this -memorable group; faded, unattractive without, sombre and majestic -within. - -The interior of Santa Maria is a disappointment. Glorious stained -glass, splendid arches, but none of the light, the joy, the -shining paradise of Saint Peter's. If we may believe Vasari, the -interior, like the exterior was to have been crusted with -Florentine mosaic, even to the minutest corners of the edifice. -But the days are dead when such a deed was practicable. -{486} -Instead of colored marbles, we have a pale olive overspreading -all the edifice; instead of the mosaic for which Filippo had -provided iron supports, the lack-lustre frescoes of Vasari and -his successors, which Florence ought to have summarily -whitewashed, as suggested in Lasca's madrigal. Fortunately, these -frescoes are the only pictures. Pictures in large churches are -distracting and insignificant; and moreover, you can rarely more -than half see them, try your best. Least of all, has a picture -any business in a Gothic church. For my own part I would as soon -see the pyramid of Cheops hung with pictures as the Duomo. In a -church, you want all the superhuman you can get--nothing human -but human souls. Angels and dragons and effigies are more in -keeping there than the best statues; those ghostly groups and -faces in the old stained glass look better than if they were a -thousand times more natural. The old mosaics harmonize because -they are not only typical, but imperishable as the structure -itself. The decisive objection to a picture in a church is its -apparent fragility. - -The outer robes of our Lady of Flowers are dull with the dust and -wear of five centuries. See how those new bits of marble which -the workmen are inserting, green, white, and red, flash and -sparkle in the sun! What a celestial vision it must have been -when all that world of mosaic was fresh and stainless! But even -as she is, faded and unfinished, what an invaluable possession! -What would Florence be without it? It is a central magnet that -holds together her present, past, and future; that unites all her -children in one vast family, making her, in the truest sense of -the word, a community. It stands before her everlastingly, a -memorial of her youthful wealth and power; a monument of present -greatness, a protest against decrepitude to come. It binds her -fast to her renown, her honor, and her faith; it is the solemn, -visible bond between her and God. The Duomo belongs not only to -Florence, but to all the hills and valleys around, to the villas -of Morello, to the cloisters of Fiesole, to the huts on the -Apennines. Every peasant within sight of its cupola, within sound -of its campanile, has a share in its daily benediction. For four -centuries, the generations that people that fair amphitheatre -have found it the most unchanging feature in their landscape. It -is as much the portion of their lives as the stars, their river, -or their own vineyards. In the first blush of every morning, it -rises before the sun; and when the stars and moon are shining, -the lantern of Santa Maria del Fiore takes its place amongst them -as part of the pageantry of the skies. - ----------- - -{487} - - The Condition and Prospects of Catholics in England. - - By An English Catholic. - - -Surrounded as we are on all sides by apostles of progress, ever -ready to taunt and ridicule those who linger in the shadows of -the past, it would be distressing indeed to Catholics in general, -and especially to English Catholics, if they could with justice -be reproached as stationary or retrograde. Happily they are of -all men least open to the charge. They advance on a double line. -They share in the common march of society; they adopt every -latest improvement; they fully accept and reciprocate the -blessings of civilization; but their religion also, which is in -itself progress, increases and multiplies throughout the globe, -and particularly in the British empire. It has derived strength -from the world's social and political changes; it is inspired -more than ever with the breath of freedom; and the very means -which accelerate science and commerce supply it with wings and -coat it with mail. It not only advances on a double line, but it -has likewise a twofold nature and a duplex power. This wonderful -religion is both old and new; it unites the weight and authority -of age with the freshness and vigor of youth. To the English it -is both ancient and modern. It _was_ the venerable faith of -their ancestors, and it is, by a gracious revolution in the moral -world, the old religion revived, with all the charms of -novelty--a second spring revisiting the long desolate and wintry -land. It comes back to us with all its time-honored appliances; -with its sacred symbols and solemn rites; its orders, -congregations, and retreats; its colleges, institutions, poor -schools, homes, orphanages, almshouses, hospitals, and -libraries--but it comes, moreover, with means and advantages -proportioned to its difficulties, and such as in old times it -could not boast. It has now in its hands the mighty machinery of -the press, with the Scriptures, the Missal and Church Offices in -the vulgar tongue. It flourishes amid liberal institutions, and -acquires no little vigor from free discussion, persuading where -once it ruled. It affiliates to itself all physical truths, all -discoveries in science, as affording fresh evidence of the power -and wisdom of God. It engages in historical research with -impartiality formerly unknown, relying on documentary proofs, and -scrutinizing all that is legendary. It joyfully accepts and -utilizes the steamship, the railroad, and the telegraph. It finds -in them fresh instruments of good, new links to knit nations -together in a common faith, swift convoys of Christian missions, -and electric tongues of flame to spread the gospel of Christ. - -During the last forty years the Catholic _renaissance_ in -England has been rapid beyond all that could have been expected -or was even hoped. It is not to the emancipation act of 1829, to -the increase of the episcopate in 1840, nor to the creation of -the hierarchy in 1850, that this surprising growth is mainly to -be ascribed. -{488} -The removal of political disabilities gave Catholics in England, -no doubt, a respectability and courage which they had not before; -but they would still have continued, on the whole, a despised and -scattered remnant--mere "pebbles and _detritus_" as Newman -says, [Footnote 103] "of the great deluge"--if there had not -arisen in the very heart of the Established Church a little band -of learned and pious men, who, strong in genius and in prayer, -valiantly defended many distinctively Catholic doctrines, and -ended by professing openly or virtually their adhesion to our -entire system of faith and morals. This it was which caused -English Catholics, when they emerged, as it were, from the -catacombs, [Footnote 104] to lift up their heads, to challenge a -new investigation of the grounds of their belief, and to submit -them confidently to every test that history, Scripture, reason, -and experience could apply. The Tractarian movement infused fresh -blood into the church's veins, and it has, during a period of -thirty years, swollen our waters with a confluent stream. - - [Footnote 103: _Sermons on Various Occasions_, p. 232.] - - [Footnote 104: Card. Wiseman's _Address to the Congress of - Malines_, p. 9.] - -The tide thus set in a right direction does not cease to flow, -and it is fed by sources external to ourselves. Scarcely a week -passes but some persons knock at the gates of the church for -admittance, who have learned the elements of Catholicism from -alien teachers. Several high-church periodicals, widely -circulated, such as the _Union Review_ and the _Church -News_, lay down, with extraordinary boldness and precision, -doctrines which the so-called reformers labored to explode. -Rumors are ever afloat of important conversions about to take -place, and thus Catholics in England are constantly encouraged, -while Anglicans are proportionally unsettled and alarmed. The -Establishment is dying by the hands of its own pastors. Three -hundred of them have quitted its pale, forfeited their position -in society, forsaken a thousand comforts, prospects, and -endearments, to follow the church in the wilderness and the -pillar of fire. The largest-minded and the largest-hearted man -Anglicanism ever produced, has long since taken his seat among -the doctors in the true temple, and one whom Anglicans esteemed -for his piety from boyhood upward, is now the primate of the -English Catholic Church, and regarded among its bishops as -_facile princeps_ for learning and ability, both as a -speaker and writer. The talents which were employed in promoting -schism are thus turned into a healthier channel; and a multitude -of able and ingenious converts in every literary guise operate -beneficially on the public mind. The loud demand for unity of -doctrine, a fixed standard of belief and morals, authority in -matters of faith, primitive antiquity, asceticism, symbols, -sacraments, and aesthetics, is being supplied. Catholic -missionaries are covering the face of the land, and they are -welcomed wherever they pitch their tent. Thirsting souls, weary -of broken cisterns, gather round them, and ask eagerly for living -water from deeper wells. Abbeys are raised on ancient sites; -convent-walls crown the hills; church-bells tinkle in secluded -vales; and in the towns and cities, fanes richly adorned and well -served invite with open doors the docile to be taught and the -penitent to be shriven. The genius of the two Pugins, the father -and the son, has revived the love of mediaeval architecture; and -the new churches vie with each other in majestic structure and -ornate detail. The winter is now past, the rain is over and gone. -{489} -The flowers have appeared in our land; the voice of the turtle is -heard. The fig-tree hath put forth her green figs; the vines in -flower yield their sweet smell. [Footnote 105] - - [Footnote 105: Canticles, ii, 11-13.] - -What a contrast within forty years! then the heavenly dove flying -over England scarcely found where her foot might rest. The waters -were abroad on the whole land, and she returned into the ark. In -1830 only 434 priests ministered through the entire country; and -these were attached, for the most part, to obscure chapels in low -quarters of the town, or to gloomy, old-fashioned houses in the -country. Four hundred and ten unsightly buildings were then -called churches; and England (which in the olden time, before the -Reformation, owned 56 convents of the Dominican order alone -[Footnote 106]) could not at that date claim a single religious -house consisting of men. Sixteen scanty communities of nuns there -were, who sighed and prayed in secret, being but the skirts of -the garment of the Lamb's Bride. A change has come over the -scene; and how great that change is, the following table will in -some degree show: - - In 1854. 1864. 1867. - Catholic clergy in England 922 1267 1438 - Catholic clergy in Scotland. 134 178 201 - Churches, chapels, - and stations in England 678 907 1082 - Churches, chapels, - and stations in Scotland 134 191 201 - Communities of men in England 17 56 67 - Convents in England. 84 173 210 - Convents in Scotland. 0 13 17 [Footnote 107] - - [Footnote 106: _Fr. Palmer's Life of Cardinal Howard._ - Introd. 41-58.] - - [Footnote 107: _Statesman's Year-Book for 1867_, p. 238. - _Catholic Directory_, p. 267.] - -In the Diocese of Westminster alone there are more than twice as -many religious communities of women as there were in the whole -kingdom (Ireland excluded) forty years ago. The population, it is -true, multiplies rapidly and in an ever increasing ratio, but the -spread of Catholicism does far more than keep pace with this -advance. It outstrips it in a striking degree, and gives -continual promise of further increase. The distance between -churches lessens; the means of grace are more copiously supplied; -the discipline of the church is more fully carried out; the -prejudices of our foes are partly dispelled; their attacks become -less violent; the press is more civil; the state more -conciliating. In many localities, such as Bayswater, -Notting-Hill, Kensington, Brompton, and Hammersmith, in the West -of London, the number of Catholic churches, convents, and -charitable institutions is greater than would be found over an -equal area in many countries where the church is supreme. The -number of persons attached to the congregation of the Oratory in -Brompton exceeds 8000, and upwards of 13,000 attend the services -of St. George's Cathedral in Southwark. The English -"Reformation," happily, did only half its work, and the tap-roots -of Catholicism have never been thoroughly eradicated from the -popular mind. New suckers are ever springing up, and persistent -culture soon obtains its reward. - -The vast metropolis is not all included in one diocese. The -Archbishop of Westminster and the Bishop of Southwark both reside -in London, and divide the pastoral care of the great city between -them. One hundred and sixty priests, secular, regular, and -unattached, minister under Dr. Grant, while 221, including -Oratorians and Oblates of St. Charles Borromeo, serve under the -primate. The average attendance of children at the poor schools -of the Diocese of Westminster was, in the year 1857-8, 8648; and -nine years later, in 1866-7, it amounted to 12,056. -{490} -This increase sufficiently proves that great efforts are made to -instruct the Catholic poor children in London. Many of them, -especially those of Irish extraction, pass their days in rags, -filth, and beggary, living like little "Arabs," as they are -familiarly called. In 1866 it was estimated that from 7000 to -12,000 Catholic children were thus wandering through the streets -of the capital; but the exertions of Cardinal Wiseman and -Archbishop Manning have produced the happiest results, and -diminished the evils which want of funds and the difficulties of -the case leave for the present without adequate remedy. It is -certain that the poor children of Catholics have in the English -bishops most able and tender-hearted advocates, and that numerous -monastic bodies of men and women are ready to second their -efforts with devotion truly heroic. It is on the lambs of the -flock that the hopes of Catholic England depend, and just in -proportion as they are educated or uneducated, will they be -ornaments or disgraces to the religion they profess. Nothing but -superstition and vice can be built on ignorance; and the clergy -in England are everywhere earnest in promoting the culture of the -mind. It is almost as vain to teach religion without secular -knowledge, as it would be presumptuous and profane to impart -secular knowledge without religion. Nature and grace alike ordain -that they should go together, and on this principle the Poor -School Committee, or Council of Catholic Education, invariably -acts. - -There is in England, at the present moment, a strong tendency to -compulsory education. The leading thinkers of the day incline to -this plan, and press on the legislature the expediency of -providing a state system of education, of which all the poor, -Catholics as well as Protestants, should avail themselves. The -secular instruction would, in this case, be common to all the -children, while the religious instruction would be in the hands -of the ministers of the several religions which the parents might -profess. The Catholic bishops and clergy look with fear and -suspicion on such a project, believing it impossible safely to -separate secular and religious instruction. They are of opinion -that the system would work badly, and prove a failure; that -non-Catholic teachers would insensibly instil false doctrine and -wrong views into the pupils' minds, and that the denominational -system, which provides separate schools for each section of -professing Christians, is the best, and, indeed, the only good -one for Catholic interests. They point to Ireland, where the -"national" education is regarded as a national grievance. They -bid you remark how, in that valley of tears, both Catholics and -Protestants separate their children if they can. They prove to -you that, in national schools with Presbyterian masters, -thousands of Catholic children are taught the Protestant religion -from the lips of Protestant teachers. [Footnote 108] They -complain that while the English receive from the state important -help toward denominational education, to the Irish all such help -is persistently refused. - - [Footnote 108: Archb. Manning's _Letter to Earl Grey_, - 1868, p. 22.] - -It remains to be seen how far their remonstrances will be -attended to, and how far the national education in Great Britain -can be made to harmonize with Catholic. Happily, there is no -disposition on the part of the state to force on any portion of -the people a measure obnoxious to them; and the scheme of -national education introduced into Ireland under the auspices of -the Catholic and Protestant Archbishops of Dublin, (Drs. Murray -and Whately,) having proved abortive, it is the less likely that -Catholics in England will be obliged to accept any conditions to -which they may be decidedly adverse. - -{491} - -There is, however, great difficulty in adjusting state -concessions to Catholic wants and demands. It is almost -impossible for Protestant rulers to understand our feelings, and -they often run counter to them, even when they are trying to -satisfy them with the best intentions. Thus, for instance, though -the government has thrown open the Universities of Oxford and -Cambridge to Catholics, allowing them to matriculate and proceed -to the degree of Bachelor of Arts, difficulties have recently -been raised by ecclesiastical authority respecting their availing -themselves of this opening. The Catholic bishops, in fact, have -recommended parents and guardians not to send their sons and -wards to Oxford and Cambridge; and though their advice does not -amount to a prohibition, it has, nevertheless, a deterrent -effect. Catholic noblemen and gentlemen of large property have, -at present, no other means of giving their sons an education -suited to their rank, and such as will form their minds and -manners for parliamentary and diplomatic service, except by -sending them to these universities, where science is, so far as -they are concerned, entirely divorced from religion, and their -personal faith is in great danger of being compromised. The -Catholic colleges at Oscott, Ushaw, Stonyhurst, and the like, -though admirable for ordinary purposes, do not meet these -exceptional cases. They have not, they do not, and they cannot -produce men equal to the times--men who carefully get up -subjects, read much and study deeply, write and speak in public -with authority, and leave deep "footprints on the sands of time." -[Footnote 109] Such laborious and efficient servants of their -country are not likely to be formed by any _régime_ less -strict and comprehensive than that of our universities; and the -consequence is that, at this moment, there are about a dozen -Catholic young men studying at Oxford (not to mention Cambridge) -in spite of episcopal discouragement. - - [Footnote 109: _Dublin Review_, October, 1867, p. 398.] - -The principle of mixed education being absolutely condemned by -the church, the want of a Catholic university in England is felt -more and more. But it can only be the result of time, since the -cost of endowments and professorships, not to speak of buildings, -would, as yet, be out of proportion to the number of Catholics in -England and the means they possess. The matter, however, is now -under consideration at Rome, and it is expected that means will -be devised shortly to meet the existing want. Before the -Reformation, sixty-six universities covered Europe, and most of -them sprang from small beginnings, and were built amid -difficulties quite as great as any we shall have to encounter. -[Footnote 110] - - [Footnote 110: See _Christian Schools and Scholars_, - vol. ii. chap. i. and ii.] - -In the mean time, the government of Mr. D'Israeli favors, to a -certain extent, the denominational system, and proposes [Footnote -111] to charter the Dublin Catholic University, to endow it from -the public treasury, and to grant it the right of conferring -degrees. - - [Footnote 111: March, 1868.] - -This plan, if carried into effect, will materially aid the Irish -portion of the church, but will not supply the want of university -education which is felt in England. Already the benefits -resulting from the state endowment of Maynooth College for -priests are clearly manifest, and the present race of -ecclesiastics in Ireland differs entirely, in several important -particulars, from that of the past generation. -{492} -They are less Galilean than they were when educated in France, -less disposed to accept of state pensions, improved in manners -and appearance, more priestly, and perhaps more firmly attached -to the Holy See. The old-fashioned "hedge-priest" has -disappeared, and if one of our bishops now dines at the Castle in -Dublin, he has not, as was sometimes the case in days of yore, to -borrow a pair of episcopal small-clothes for the occasion. - -The system of mixed education has not taken root in Ireland, -though backed by all the influence of the state. The following -table will prove that neither Catholics nor Protestants there -approve it, and that, though they sometimes submit to it as a -kind of necessity, they avail themselves of it as little as -possible. The table exhibits the entire number of schools in -Ireland under the control of the National Board, and it ought to -be remembered that in these it is not allowable to teach the -Catholic religion, to use Catholic emblems, to talk of the holy -father, use the sign of the cross, or set up a crucifix or an -image of Our Lady. [Footnote 112] The schools are, in fact, -secular, so far as Catholic children are concerned, and their -religious instruction is left to the zeal and labor of their own -pastors. - - [Footnote 112: Speech of Card. Cullen.] - - Catholic Protestant - Children. Children. - Schools. - 2,454 with Catholic teachers. 373,756 none - 2,483 with Catholic teachers. 321,641 24,381 - 1,106 with Protestant teachers only. 29,722 114,726 - 184 with Protestant teachers only. none. 18,702 - 131 with mixed teachers. 13,690 13,305 [Footnote 113] - - [Footnote 113: _Report of National Board of Education_, - 1866. _Report of Meeting of Clergy of Dublin_, 18th Dec. - 1867, p. 14.] - -In England, grants are made from time to time by the Privy -Council of the Queen toward defraying the expenses of Catholic -poor-schools, for it is only in a hobbling way that public -opinion in this country moves toward religious and political -equality. The oppression of minorities by majorities has been in -vogue so many centuries, that the Houses of Parliament can with -difficulty be induced to administer even-handed justice to all. -The Poor-School Committee, composed entirely of Catholic noblemen -and gentlemen, conducts the affairs of Catholic poor-schools with -the concurrence of the bishops and clergy. The schools which are -subsidized by government are subject also to government -inspection. But this causes no inconvenience, because the -inspectors are Catholics, approved by the bishops, and -comfortably salaried by the state. - -The reformatory schools are most useful and interesting -institutions. They date from 1854, when a law was passed to the -effect that juvenile offenders should, after a few weeks of -imprisonment, complete their term of punishment in a reformatory -approved by the secretary of state for the Home Department. By -the exertions of Cardinal Wiseman and others, reformatories were -established for Catholic children, in order that they might be -kept separate from those of other religions, and be duly -instructed by Brothers of Mercy, or other pious and charitable -persons, under the direction of a priest. Reformatory schools -have been followed by schools of industry, to which magistrates -send vagrant children, found by the police in the streets without -shelter or home. These schools also are recognized by the -secretary of state, and the members of the Conferences of St. -Vincent of Paul watch over the children's interests and provide, -as far as may be, for their welfare. - -{493} - -Allied to these are such schools as St. Vincent's Home for -destitute boys, at Hammersmith, [Footnote 114] where eighty poor -boys are boarded, clothed, and educated for four shillings a week -each, with thirty shillings on entrance for outfit, etc. The -Catholics of England do not wait till they become a rich and -powerful body before they engage in extensive works of charity. -On the contrary, the number of their charitable institutions is -immense, considered in proportion to their means. - - [Footnote 114: Now removed to Fulham.] - -During the Crimean war the want of Catholic chaplains in the army -was felt painfully. Soldiers and sailors are, of all men, most -careless about their souls, and Catholic soldiers were doubly -abandoned in the hour of sickness and death, having no minister -but a Protestant one to attend them, while in his ministrations -they had no faith. A few volunteer chaplains were therefore -allowed to accompany the troops, and this has led to their being -regularly appointed, and to such chaplains being placed on an -equality with the Protestant in rank, salary, and retiring -pensions. Vessels, also, are moored in the great harbors and -prepared for Catholic worship. A chaplain is specially appointed -to the service of such ships, and to provide for the Catholic -sailors' spiritual wants. The spirit of the Irish tar is no -longer vexed with the thought that he must live, fight, and -perhaps die for a government which abhors his religion, and -deprives him of its consolations. The captains of men of war in -the neighborhood of the floating churches just spoken of, are -obliged to see that the Catholic seamen attend Mass, and are not -now, as formerly, compelled to assist at the Church of England -prayers. The field of labor of Catholic army chaplains gradually -extends; besides being attached to many home stations, such as -Aldershot, Chatham, Portsea, Woolwich, etc., they are found in -foreign stations also, such as Bermuda, Halifax, Mauritius, -New-Zealand, St. Helena, and Malta. The Catholic chaplains, it -may be added, live on the best terms with the officers and with -the Protestant clergymen in the same barracks. "We never -interfere with each other," said one of the former a few days -since to the writer; "indeed, for my part, I would not think of -trying to convert the Protestants; I would rather spend all my -time in striving to convert the Catholics. I am sure that, out of -every hundred of our own men, there are eighty that need to be -converted." - -The prisons and union work-houses also, which used to be the -scenes of so much injustice toward Catholic prisoners, paupers, -and children, [Footnote 115] have now assumed a more liberal and -Christian aspect. - - [Footnote 115: _The Workhouse Question. Lamp_, Aug. 19, - 1865.] - -Chaplains are appointed to the larger houses of correction to -minister to Catholic inmates, and Catholic children in the -workhouses enjoy the benefits of instruction in the religion of -their parents. There is in the _Catholic Directory_, which -appears annually, a list of the charitable institutions in each -diocese, and nothing can be more cheering and hopeful than the -view it presents. Thus, in the _Directory_ for 1866, we find -in the Diocese of Westminster alone 3 Almhouses; 1 Asylum for -Aged Poor; 1 Home for Aged Females; 1 Hospital served by Sisters -of Mercy; 1 House of Mercy for Servants out of Place; 1 Night -Refuge; 1 St. Vincent of Paul's Shoe-Black Brigade; 2 Refuges for -Penitents; 1 Reformatory School for Boys; 7 Industrial Schools -for Boys, and 11 for Girls. -{494} -The impression made on society by these admirable institutions is -very great. They receive much countenance and support from -non-Catholics; they instruct and console the ignorant and -afflicted members of our own body; they call forth an abundance -of self-denying labor and charity on the part of our own people, -and tend more powerfully than any arguments to propagate the -ancient faith. They prove that our religion emanates from a God -of love, that we are not mere political schemers nor -superstitious devotees, but sober-minded, practical Christians, -battling with sin, and relieving misery in every shape. The -English public is peculiarly alive to the services of Sisters -devoted to works of Charity. You cannot walk through the streets -now, or travel by railway, without meeting them, and everywhere -they are respected. Their costume provokes no ridicule, their -youth and good looks (if such they have) are secure from insult. -Their crucifix and beads are badges of which all know the import, -and involuntary blessings attend their steps. They are, in their -way, the apostles of England. Their devotion to the sick and -wounded in the Crimea won for them the favor even of their foes. -Few will refuse them alms when they ask it for the poor. They are -types of self-sacrifice, daughters of consolation, angel -visitants. They impersonate the Gospel. Many of them come from -abroad, from France, Italy, and Belgium, impelled by an -invincible desire for the conversion of England. Their looks -bespeak their mission no less than their garb. They are calm, -collected, gentle. Children yearn toward them with instinctive -fondness, and vice itself is shamed by their silent purity. The -names of their several orders tell plainly on what their hearts -are fixed. They belong to the "Good Shepherd;" they are the -"Faithful Companions of Jesus;" they are handmaids of the "Holy -Child Jesus," of "Notre Dame de Sion," of "Jesus in the Temple," -of "Marie Reparatrice." They are "Sisters of Mercy," of -"Providence," of "the Poor," of "Nazareth," of "Penance," of the -"Holy Family," of "St. Joseph," of "St. Paul," of "the Cross." -They address themselves to the heart rather than to the -understanding, but they are not on that account less powerful -instruments in the work of social improvement. They have broken -down many of the barriers which prejudice had raised against the -Catholic religion, and helped more than any logical triumph to -subdue the hostility and soften the language of the press. - -That mighty engine is, on the whole, an auxiliary to the Catholic -cause in England. If it promulgates many falsehoods respecting -us, it is almost always ready to publish their confutation also. -It reproduces our primate's pastorals and all other documents of -public interest that emanate from our bishops. It helps us, in -the main, in the battle we are fighting for the attainment of -equal political privileges, and employs the pens of many Catholic -writers. No respectable periodical taboos a contributor because -he is a Catholic, nor excludes him from its staff if his writing -be up to the required mark, and his conduct in reference to -controversial matters be discreet. Many non-Catholic journals are -edited or sub-edited by Catholics, and this accounts in part for -the altered tone of the press toward us of late. - -{495} - -Our own literature has recently been marked by fewer -controversial books and pamphlets than it was some twenty years -ago. Then, every convert of distinction, when admitted into the -church, thought it incumbent on him to publish those reasons -which had influenced him most powerfully in so momentous a -change. The library tables in Catholic families were covered by -the writings of Wiseman, Newman, Faber, Renouf, Lewis, Dodsworth, -Northcote, Allies, Ward, and Thompson. Each presented his plea -for Catholicism from a different point of view, and each added -something to the aggregate of arguments derived from Scripture -and antiquity. The controversy is now taking another turn. The -church's historical ground is less violently contested, and she -is drawing from her inexhaustible armory weapons to meet subtler -foes. She faces the sceptic; she probes liberalism with -Ithnriel's spear; she establishes from the very nature of things -the necessity of an infallible standard of faith and morals. She -draws up her line of arguments with a more compact front and -extended wings. She appears at the same time more unbending and -more liberal. She recognizes more freely and joyfully than ever -the workings of the Holy Spirit in communions external to her -pale, while she insists with extraordinary earnestness on her -exclusive possession of the entire and incorrupt deposit of the -faith. Such was the purport of a remarkable letter addressed to -the Rev. Dr. Pusey by Dr. Manning, now Archbishop of Westminster, -in 1864. Never were orthodoxy and liberality more happily united -than in this pamphlet. Never did a Catholic prelate and divine -make larger admissions without sacrificing a particle of Catholic -theology. It is marked by the charity of an apostle and the -accuracy of a logician. The same remarks apply to the -archbishop's work on _England ana Christendom_. "We will -venture to say that there is no one Roman Catholic writer of -eminence in the world who has spoken more emphatically than -he--we doubt if there is one who has spoken with equal -emphasis--on the piety and salvability of persons external to the -visible church." [Footnote 116] - - [Footnote 116: _Dublin Review_, July, 1867, p. 110] - -The life of Catholicism in England is evinced by its numerous -associations. In every place where it has taken root, Catholics -enrol themselves in societies, confraternities, or institutes for -social, intellectual, and religious purposes. In no diocese do -these flourish more than in that of Westminster. The Archbishop -personally promotes social intercourse by throwing open his -drawing-rooms every Tuesday evening, during the London season, to -such gentlemen as may think proper to attend his receptions. -There, may be met, from time to time, prelates from distant -countries, ambassadors, members of parliament, noblemen, heads of -colleges, artists, men of science, converts, and old Catholics, -with now and then a non-Catholic guest, whom curiosity, respect -for the primate, or yearning toward a calumniated church, draws -into company to which he is little used. The Stafford Club is -another centre of union, comprising about 300 members, and -including among them a large part of the titled and moneyed -Catholics of England, Wales, and Scotland. The archbishops and -bishops of England and Ireland are _ex-officio_ honorary -members, and they frequently avail themselves of the privilege. A -middle class club has lately been opened in the city under the -primate's patronage, and at this lectures are delivered, to -which, as well as to all other advantages, non-Catholic members -are admissible. -{496} -The only condition required of such members is, that they shall -observe the rules of courtesy, and abstain (together with -Catholic members) from unbecoming controversy on religious and -political questions. Lecturing is not so popular a form of -instruction in England as in the United States, yet it is much -more generally in vogue than it was, and it is destined, we -believe, to exert a wide influence hereafter in propagating anew -the Catholic faith through the British empire. - -What we need and hope for is the reaction of Catholic Ireland on -Catholic England. Centuries of cruel misgovernment have retarded -the civilization of that unhappy country, and the loss which it -sustains is not its only, but also ours. In knowledge, education, -manners, commerce, industry, liberty, in all that constitutes -national maturity, it is behind England. Reading, lecturing, -mental activity, in Ireland are all in the back ground; and -consequently the church, which there keeps alive the faith in the -heart of a peasant and small farmer population, does not act -indirectly on English Catholic society with that force which -would belong to it under more favorable circumstances. "The -centuries which have ripened England and Scotland with flower and -fruit, have swept over Ireland in withering and desolation;" -[Footnote 117] she has therefore little to give us, much to -receive from us. If England had been bountiful to her, she would, -in return, have been bountiful to England. If we had shared with -Ireland our material prosperity, she would now be imparting to us -more spiritual blessings, communication between the two churches -would be more brisk, and their relations would be marked by more -complete unity of feeling and purpose. - - [Footnote 117: Archbishop Manning's Letter to Earl Grey. p. 17.] - -The time is probably drawing near when this healthy and -reciprocal action of the Irish and English Catholic Church will -be fully restored. If England is to retain Ireland at all as a -part of the empire, it must be by establishing equal laws, -repealing all penal enactments against Catholics and their -religion, resolving the national system of education into -denominational schools, disestablishing and disendowing the -Protestant Church, and placing on Irish landlords such -restrictions in the tenure of land as will secure the tenant from -misery and hopeless serfdom. She must stanch the bleeding wounds -of emigration, and wipe away the tears of ages. Then, and then -only, can we hope to see Ireland a prosperous nation, her people -thrifty and happy, her civilization raised to a level with other -Christian countries of Europe, and her church putting forth all -its native might to console and instruct its own congregations, -and to aid in the work of recovering England to the faith of the -Apostles. Political and social degradation, such as that which -afflicts Ireland, is incompatible with a free and flourishing -church, with a high moral tone, religious zeal, and exemplary -lives on the part of its victims. Cottiers, and "tenants at will" -of absentee landlords, having no security that their outlay is -their own, and that they will ever reap the advantage of it; -barely earning their potatoes and buttermilk by the sweat of -their brow, and looking wistfully across the Atlantic to the -comparative wealth and luxury enjoyed by five millions of their -fellow-countrymen in America; liable at any moment to be evicted -for political motives, or that their rent may be raised; galled -and maddened by the remembrance of 50,000 evictions in one year; -[Footnote 118] such persons, we say, deprived of the protection -of the law, must be more than human if they do not in many -instances prove themselves lawless. But the day of redress is at -hand, we trust. May the day of retribution be averted! - - [Footnote 118: 1849. _Butt's Land Tenure in Ireland_, p. - 34.] - -{497} - -It is, perhaps, matter for regret that English Catholics have now -no political leader. Since the voice of Daniel O'Connell was -hushed by death, no representative of their interests in -parliament has appeared gifted with genius and eloquence of a -commanding order. Mr. Pope Hennessy has been excluded from the -House of Commons by his Irish constituents in consequence of his -conservative principles, which are not popular among them, and -has accepted the governorship of Labuan. His talents are thus -almost lost to the Catholic cause; and though there are more than -thirty Catholic members in the Commons, their influence is not -what it should be. It is neutralized by the many Irish Protestant -members who represent landed interests; and valuable as are the -services of Mr. Maguire, Mr. Monsell, Mr. Blake, and Major -O'Reilly, it is to Protestant rather than to Catholic champions -that we look now for advocacy of Irish tenant claims, and the -redress of Irish wrongs. In the House of Lords we are most feebly -represented. Out of twenty-six Catholic peers, seventeen only -have seats, and none of these are distinguished as debaters. -[Footnote 119] - - [Footnote 119: See _Lord Mahon's Hist. of England_, vol. - i. p. 16.] - -In the time of Charles II. the Catholic peerage was more numerous -than it is now in proportion to the commoners. Long after that -period, also, the lords and gentry held a higher position than -was in harmony with the scanty number of their poorer -co-religionists. Indeed, we have not yet recovered the blow which -was inflicted on us by the expulsion of the peers [Footnote 120] -under the rule of a sovereign who was even then a Catholic by -conviction, and avowed himself such on the bed of death. But -though the heads of old Catholic families in England do not, as a -rule, shine as public characters, they have a title to respect -which none others can claim. They represent those who suffered a -long period of banishment for conscience' sake, treasuring in -their hearts a faith more precious than courtly splendor. For -this they were outcasts and pariahs, bowed beneath invidious -disabilities and penal laws, deprived of all the material -advantages which spring from good education, brilliant careers, -and fine prospects. Despair of this world had become a part of -their inheritance, and it is no wonder that their successors to -this day are somewhat rustic and unskilled in the ways of -cabinets and courts. - - [Footnote 120: _Flanagan's English and Irish History_, p. - 665.] - -The Catholic revival, in short, in England--a revival of whose -reality and strength we daily see the proofs--is not to be -ascribed to external causes. No zealous autocrat, no lordly -oligarchy, no foreign invasion, no laws, no concordats, have -brought it about. Everything was against it, and everything seems -now to favor it. Penal statutes, as decided and almost as deadly -as those of the Caesars, forbade it; the Revolution of 1688 -excluded from the throne any sovereign professing it; George III. -fought against it as stoutly and more successfully than he did -against the American Colonies; Pitt succumbed in his efforts to -obtain for it some measure of justice; Fox abandoned its cause -politically as hopeless; [Footnote 121] and the Grenville -cabinet, with all the talents, was dismissed, because it planned -a trifling concession to Catholic officers in the army and navy. - - [Footnote 121: Pellew. _Life of Lord Sidmouth_, ii. 435. - _Jesse's George III_. iii. 476.] - -{498} - -George IV., like his father, frowned on Catholic emancipation, -and yielded to it only under the pressure of a threatened -rebellion. But though political privileges were granted to -Catholics, it was deemed impossible that their dark, decrepit -superstition should ever regain its footing in England. The book -of common prayer witnessed against it; the preface to the -Protestant Scriptures called its head antichrist; a thousand and -ten thousand pulpits thundered against it Sunday after Sunday; -dissenters scorned and trampled on it as the worn-out garments of -the Babylonish harlot; millions of tracts and volumes pointed out -its supposed errors, and cart-loads and ship-loads of Bibles were -dispersed through the land as antidotes to its poison. Yet it -spread. It triumphed over obloquy. It appealed in its defence to -that very Bible which was believed to condemn it. It courted -inquiry. It asserted its own divinity. It baffled the law, bent -the will of kings and parliaments, scattered the arguments of its -enemies like chaff, and advanced steadily as the tide, sapping -every dam, and levelling every breakwater that opposed its flow. -In the bosom of the adverse church it found advocates, and in -almost every family it made converts. New concessions are made to -it in every session of parliament; higher and higher offices in -the state and in the magistracy are entrusted to its members; the -paltry restrictions which yet remain in force will soon be swept -away, and having once obtained social and political equality, we -have not the remotest doubt that it will obtain, also, -superiority approaching as near to supremacy as will be -consistent with the liberty of every other portion of society. - -There is an increasing disposition among sectarians in England to -make common cause with Catholics on a variety of grounds. One of -these grounds has already been mentioned. They would willingly -see national education everywhere made purely denominational, and -many of those among them who are strongly attached to their own -particular form of belief would concur with the Catholic primate -in asking that the schools endowed by the state may, in each -place, be given over to the majority, whether Catholic, Anglican, -Presbyterian, or Dissenting, and that schools required by the -minority may be supported on the voluntary system. [Footnote 122] -There is, however, a difficulty in this proposal which would give -rise to endless jangling. In some places there is no majority, -religious persuasions are equally divided. In others the majority -is small and fluctuating. What is the majority this month may be -the minority in the next. How could their rival claims to -endowment be adjusted in such cases? - - [Footnote 122: Letter to Earl Grey, p. 20.] - -But again, there is a growing disposition among religious men of -all denominations to make common cause with the Catholic Church -in her warfare against infidelity and social crime, particularly -drunkenness. Their ministers now are constantly coming in contact -with our priests, sitting with them on committees, and speaking -side by side with them on platforms on subjects affecting the -general weal. They are beginning to recognize the great fact that -our war with infidelity is not of yesterday, that we have from -age to age maintained the fundamental truths of revelation in the -face of a world of scoffers, and that if the banner of the cross -could fall from our hands, it would lie in the dust. -{499} -Ritualists imitate our solemn rites; sedate churchmen have a -friendly feeling toward us because we hold the apostolic -succession; Biblical scholars in all sects defer to us as the -mediaeval guardians and copyists of the Bible; Low-Churchmen -endorse our doctrines of grace; Dissenters hold out to us "the -right hand of fellowship," because we also are non-conformists as -regards the Established Church; and even Quakers [Footnote 123] -see in us some hopeful features when they hear us declare that we -are affiliated in spirit to all who desire to know and obey the -truth, and who err only through invincible ignorance. - - [Footnote 123: See speech of Mr. Bright in the House of - Commons, March 13th, 1868.] - -As time goes on, they will give us more credit for spiritual -acumen. They will see how justly we have estimated the claims of -each successive pretender to religious inspiration and knowledge -of divine mysteries. They will ratify our decision on the -_isms_ of this as of former centuries. They will admit, for -example, that we have divined the true nature of animal -magnetism, with all those extraordinary phenomena which perplex -so many minds in England and elsewhere. To some persons these -manifestations appear wholly impostures, to others they seem real -and useful, and to others again, indifferent, absurd, and -unworthy of attention. The church, on the contrary, after sifting -the evidence adduced concerning them, pronounces them real in -many instances, useless, unlawful, and Satanic. Theologians like -Perrone and Ballerini have devoted long attention to them, and -laid bare their wickedness in its most deadly aspects. Under a -mask of mingled absurdity and terror, they reveal just so much of -the invisible world as may deceive and ruin souls. They are -horrible mimicries of the angelic and spiritual economy of the -church. In all these phases of mesmerism, somnambulism, -clairvoyance, table-turning, table-rapping, and evocation of -spirits, they testify to the truth of divine revelation in -respect to the spiritual world. So far they are of some -advantage, for the evil one is always rendering involuntary -homage to the Gospel which he seeks to pervert. But in exchange -for this, they draw deluded multitudes away from the true and -lawful way of holding communion with the dead, piercing the -mysteries of the world unseen, obtaining divine guidance, mental -illumination, cure of bodily infirmities, signal answers to -prayer, visions, ecstasies, and knowledge of future events. From -none of these things are the faithful debarred in the church, but -in spiritism, or demon-worship, they are attracted to them in -ways which are generally fatal to their morals and their faith. -We have heard from an intimate ally of Mr. Home, now a convert to -the Catholic Church, that in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred -those who put themselves in communication with spirits by means -of table-speaking, lose their belief in the Christian religion -and adopt a loose mode of life. The political grievances of which -English and Irish Catholics have still to complain, are of old -not of recent origin. They belong to a system now virtually -exploded, and if our statute-book were a _tabula rasa_ they -could not be written in it again. There is full proof of this in -the fact that Great Britain legislates for her colonies more -justly than for Ireland, or even for England. In Sydney and -Melbourne, in Australia, there are Catholic colleges endowed by -the government, and in Canada there is an endowed Catholic -University. Yet Ireland, with 4,500,000 Catholics, has hitherto -asked in vain for the like favors. -{500} -The colonies, moreover, are not burdened with a Protestant -establishment, but lie open to the exertions of Catholic and -Protestant missionaries alike, who receive from the state equal -encouragement and occasional subsidies. The consequence is, that -in almost every colonial dependency of Great Britain the true -church is in full activity, and gives ample proof of her divine -mission. The following table of our episcopate will show how wide -is the field of action afforded to it by the tolerant system -which England has pursued of late years. If she had not at the -Reformation fallen from the faith, there would not perhaps at -this moment be an idol temple in the world. If she should ever -return as a nation to the fold of Christ, her mighty influence -may, with the help of other Christian people, suffice to break in -pieces every fetish and exorcise the races possessed by demons. -The figures here given are of the year 1867; and it may be -observed that in all the twenty vicariates of India, Burma, and -Siam there was an increase of the Catholic population over the -preceding year, with the exception only of those which are under -the Portuguese Archbishop of Goa. In his province there was a -small decrease. [Footnote 124] - - [Footnote 124: _Catholic Directory_ 1868, p. 19 to 26.] - - - Archbishops Bishops Vicars Apostolic - - England 1 12 ... - - Ireland 4 24 ... - - Scotland ... ... 3 - - Malta | - Gozo | ... 2 1 - Gibraltar | - - Quebec | - Halifax | - Oregon | - British Columbia | 2 17 2 - Harbor Grace | - St. John's, | - Newfoundland | - - West-Indies 1 1 2 - - Africa ... 1 4 - - India, Burma, ... ... 20 - - Australia 1 10 ... - - New Zealand ... 2 ... - - Total 9 69 32 - -From this it appears that there are now no Catholics in the -British empire invested with the episcopal office. The number is -little short of that of the Anglican Bishops, with all the power -and influence of the state, and a vast Protestant population to -give effect to their exertions. Yet, poor and comparatively -unaided as our bishops are, the results of their labors in the -colonies and among the heathen far exceed anything which rival -missionaries can boast. As to the Russian clergy, their torpor in -regard to idolatrous nations has often been commented on, and -they are strictly forbidden by imperial edicts to endeavor to -make converts among them. [Footnote 125] It is therefore with -Protestant missionaries only that we have to vie, and these, -through their disunion, lose, in great measure, the fruits of -their zeal. The two millions sterling _per annum_, which -their societies in the British isles alone expend, [Footnote 126] -do not enable them to make head against the rapid extension of -the Catholic faith. In China, India, Ceylon, the Antipodes, -Oceanica, Africa, the Levant, Syria, Armenia, and America, they -have signally failed in converting the heathen, and in rivalling -the happy results of Catholic missions. [Footnote 127] - - [Footnote 125: Wagner's _Travels in Persia_, vol. il. - 204.] - - [Footnote 126: _The Times_, April 19, 1860] - - [Footnote 127: Marshall's _Christian. Missions_, vol. i. - 9-15.] - -Every Catholic nation is a vast missionary society, and if -England had been such to this day, her Indian possessions would -be basking in the full light of the gospel. But, alas! how -awfully has she betrayed her trust. The speeches of Burke, the -lives of Clive and Hastings, bear witness against her. Rapine and -cruelty marked the earlier stages of her Indian government. -{501} -During long years she left the Indians to their idols, and then -recruited her treasury by a tax laid upon them, and commanded her -troops to pay homage to the demons of the land. Her efforts for -their conversion, if they can be called hers, are feeble and -unsystematic, while Catholic missions in every part of British -India are steadily conducted on a uniform plan. Eleven years ago -there were about a million Catholics in the wide territory, and -the spirit which guided S. François Xavier, Robert de' Nobili, -John de Bretto, and Laynez, prospered the work of their hands. -Since that time the Madras Catholic Directories show that -constant progress has been made. In some dioceses from 500 to -1000 souls are reclaimed annually from Hindooism, Mohammedanism, -and Armenian sects. The lives of the converts are often most -edifying, and though much ignorance and superstition has to be -weeded out of them, they show forth on the whole the glory of Him -who has called them out of darkness into marvellous light. -Registries of adult baptisms being kept at each of the stations, -it is easy to ascertain the progress made. In 1859, 2614 adults -in the province of Madura were received into the church, and the -native college of Negapatam, frequented by young men of high -caste only, had produced seven priests, eight theological -students, a large number of catechists and school-masters, with -several government officers. The Jesuit fathers had founded five -orphanages and three hospitals, beside convents of Carmelite and -Franciscan nuns, where Hindoo women, under the constraining -influence of divine grace, led devout and austere lives. -[Footnote 128] It has hitherto been the policy of our rulers to -avoid interfering with the religion of the natives, [Footnote -129] but the time, we may hope, is at hand when more righteous -and merciful principles will prevail in the councils of state. - - - -By promoting schism, England delays the conversion of the -heathen. Friends and foes alike testify to the inefficacy of -English Protestant missions. They can destroy faith, but never -inspire it; and those who desire to read the true records of the -triumph of the cross in heathen lands, and especially in the -dominions of Great Britain, must seek them, not in the -publications of London Missionary Societies, but in the Annals of -the Propagation of the Faith, and the writings of Mr. Marshall -and Father Strickland. [Footnote 130] - - [Footnote 128: _Mission de Madurt_, par L. Saint Cyr, - S.J. (1859.)] - - [Footnote 129: Marshall's _Christian Missions_, vol. i. - 412-419.] - - [Footnote 130: _Catholic Missions in Southern India_ to - 1865.] - -The present Earl Grey, though an Anglican, once said to a -gentleman from whom we heard it, that he wished, for his part, -that Catholic bishops only were supported in the colonies by the -English government; for that they alone, in his opinion, were -actuated by pure motives and self-sacrificing zeal. Earl Grey -does not stand alone in his truly liberal sentiments. Indeed, it -is wonderful how generous and enlightened many of our statesmen -have become suddenly, since the Fenians have threatened their -English homes. Impossible as it is for us to defend their -conspiracy, it seems to bear out the assertion that no people -ever obtained their rights by mere remonstrance and petition. The -injustice of maintaining a Protestant establishment in Catholic -Ireland now flashes upon our rulers like light from heaven, -though they have been told of it before a thousand times. Now -they are as eager for its destruction as they were for its -support. Now they see the matter as all Europe, all the civilized -world except themselves, saw ft long -ago. -{502} -Now they quote with approval the question proposed by Sir Robert -Peel: "This missionary church of yours, with all that wealth and -power could do for her, can she in two hundred years show a -balance of two hundred converts?" Now they endorse the opinion of -Goldwin Smith, that "No Roman Catholic mission has ever done so -much for Roman Catholicism in any nation as the Protestant -establishment has done for it in Ireland." [Footnote 131] It has, -to use Mr. Bright's words, "made Roman Catholicism in Ireland not -only a faith, but absolutely a patriotism." It has made the Irish -"more intensely Roman than the members of their church are found -to be in almost any other kingdom in Europe." [Footnote 132] -"Don't talk to me of its being a church!" exclaimed Burke. "It is -a wholesale robbery." "It is an anomaly of so gross a kind," said -Lord Brougham, just thirty years ago, "that it outrages every -principle of common sense. ... It cannot be upheld unless the -tide of knowledge should turn back." "Irish Toryism," wrote John -Sterling, in 1842, "is the downright proclamation of brutal -injustice, and that in the name of God and the Bible!" All this -English statesmen, who long obstinately resisted truth and -justice, now see and acknowledge from a conviction too prompt to -have been inspired by anything but fear. Terror has been known to -turn the hair gray in a night, and to fill the mind with wisdom -in a day. In saying this, however, we do not mean to express any -approval of Fenianism, knowing it, as we do, to be a detestable -conspiracy, secret, unlawful, and condemned by the church. - - [Footnote 131: Letter in _Morning Star_, March 30, - 1868.] - - [Footnote 132: Speech in the House of Commons, March 31.] - -The disestablishment of the Irish Protestant Church will directly -affect the condition of the Catholics in England. It will place -their Irish brethren on a social level with Protestants, and thus -add to the respectability of the entire body of Catholics in the -three kingdoms. It will diminish the number and influence of -those Irish Protestant clergymen who cross the channel year by -year to declaim on the platforms of our halls and assemblies -against the supposed corruption of the Church of Rome. It will -remove ten thousand heart-burnings from the people of Ireland, -and enable them, though differing in religion in some districts, -to live together in peace and harmony. It will increase -self-respect in both sections of the community--in the -Protestant, because they will no longer be grasping oppressors; -in the Catholic, because they will no longer be fleeced and -oppressed. The relative merits of their creeds will then have to -be discussed on even ground, and no weapons but those of the -sanctuary will avail in the fight. The voluntary system by which -their ministers will be supported will throw them entirely upon -their moral resources, and every adscititious aid in propagating -their belief will be happily rescinded. The settlement of the -Irish Church question will soon be followed by legal improvement -in the condition of tenants as regards their landlords; and thus -the two crying evils of our Irish administration being redressed, -speculation will be encouraged, commerce will thrive, fortunes -will be made, emigration will be arrested, and emigrants -recalled. The church of Catholics will share in the general -prosperity, and chapels now little better than mud hovels will be -razed to the ground to make room for buildings stately and fair -as the collegiate churches of Windsor, Middleham, and Brecon, in -the olden time, or as the Priory of Stone, the Orphanage of -Norwood, and the College of St. Cuthbert, near Durham, at the -present day. - -{503} - -There is at this moment a concurrence of events favorable to the -Catholic religion in the British empire, such as never was seen -before since the Reformation. No fires of Smithfield, no renegade -queen like Elizabeth, no Spanish Armada, no Gunpowder Plot, no -Puritan ascendency, no despotic house of Stuart, no Pretender, no -Titus Oates, no French or other foreign invasion, no Lord George -Gordon, no rebellion like that of Robert Emmett and Lord Edward -Fitzgerald, is looming in the distance, marring the prospect, and -nearing us to turn hope into despair. Even Fenian outbreaks are, -we believe, anticipated and virtually undone. Every sun that -shines is ripening the harvest, and were it not that the enemy is -more busy than ever in sowing tares, we might expect that within -a century the whole, or at least the larger part, of the -population of the three kingdoms would be included in the domain -of the church. - -What we have most to dread is the spread of unbelief in its -subtlest and most engaging form. It comes among us with stealthy -tread, and with the smile of hypocrisy on its face. It professes -respect for the Christian religion, but with homage on its lips -carries contempt in its heart. It regards all religions as -superstitious, and the Christian as the best among bad ones. It -pervades every branch of our non-Catholic literature, and offers -fruit slightly poisoned to every lip. It combats dogma and the -supernatural in every shape, appeals in all things to the senses, -sets up humanity as its idol, and studiously confounds the -distinction between right and wrong. It maintains the authority -of Scripture, provided all that is supernatural and miraculous be -eliminated. It reveres Jesus Christ when placed by the side of -"the mild and honest Aurelius, Cakya Mouni, [Footnote 133] and -the sweet and humble Spinoza." [Footnote 134] It cites as -examples of men "most filled with the spirit of God," Moses, -Christ, Mohammed, Vincent of Paul, and _Voltaire_. [Footnote -135] It inscribes the name of Christ on volutes in tapestried -drawing-rooms, [Footnote 136] together with those of Socrates, -Columbus, Luther, and Washington. It affirms that "_we can -never be sure that the opinion we are endeavoring to stifle is a -false opinion,_" [Footnote 137] and that "no one can be a -great thinker who does not recognize that, as a thinker, it is -_his first duty to follow his intellect to whatever conclusions -it may lead._" [Footnote 137 (sic)] It approves of "hearty -good-will evinced toward all persistence of endeavor, whether the -object of that persistence be _good or evil_ according to -moral or religious standards," and it is drawn strongly into -sympathy with such poets as Robert Browning in their "keen love -for humanity as such, a love which is displayed toward -_weakness and evil_ as much as toward strength and goodness, -provided only the attribute be human." [Footnote 138] Such -sympathy with all that is human it accounts "divine." It -worships, in short, the creature more than the Creator; it feels -no need of grace, and still less of atonement. It relapses, -consciously or unconsciously, into the frozen zone where Comte -reigns supreme master of a system of icy negatives called -philosophy--negatives the more specious because veiled under the -term positivism--where all but facts attested by the senses must -be renounced, and all final causes, all supernatural -intervention, scattered to the wind. [Footnote 139] - - [Footnote 133: The fourth Buddha.] - - [Footnote 134: Renan. _Vie de Jesus_] - - [Footnote 135: _Autobiography of Garibaldi_. Edited by - Alexandre Dumas.] - - [Footnote 136: In Victor Hugo's House in Guernsey. See his - _William Shakespeare_, p. 568.] - - [Footnote 137: John Stuart Mill on _Liberty_, p. 19.] - - [Footnote 138: John T. Nettleship's _Essays on Robert - Browning_. Preface.] - - [Footnote 139: _Cours de Philosophie Positive_, 1839. - _Politique Positiviste_, 1851-4.] - -{504} - -Toward this the Protestant mind in England is daily tending with -increasing proneness, that portion only excepted which looks -upward toward Catholic ritual and dogma. Its presence is more and -more apparent among educated men, in Parliament, the -universities, the learned professions, the reviews and journals -of the day. It is an enemy that meets us in every walk, and is -more difficult to grapple with than any definite form of error. -It objects not merely to this or that part of our Creed, as -Lutheran s and Calvinists did on their first appearing, but it -meets us _in limine_ with doubts which pagans would have -been ashamed to profess. Even writers on the whole Christian, -like Samuel Taylor Coleridge, have aided in forming it; but -Neology, Strauss, Comte, Mill, Carlyle, Sterling, Hugo, have -brought it in like a flood. Mazzini propounds it openly in -_Macmillan's Magazine_, while the _Saturday Review_ and -the _Pall Mall Gazette_ adapt it weekly and daily to the -palate of the million. Not that the free-thinkers are agreed -together; they often jeer at each other. "Singular what gospels -men will believe," cries Carlyle, [Footnote 140] "even gospels -according to Jean Jacques." But _this_ is the language of -each, "Adieu, O church; thy road is that way, mine is this. ... -What we are going _to_ is abundantly obscure; but what all -men are going _from_ is very plain." [Footnote 141] - - [Footnote 140: Thomas Carlyle's _French Revolution_, ii. - 70.] - - [Footnote 141: Carlyle's _Life of Sterling_, p. 286.] - -These, then, are the two great antagonists, the Catholic Church -and Infidelity in its last and most popular shape of Positivism. -People in England are choosing their sides, and drawing nearer -and nearer to one or the other of these champions. Minor -differences are merging into the broad features which distinguish -the two. To the positivism of Comte there stands opposed the -positivism of the Church. She alone speaks positively, -authoritatively, uniformly, and permanently, respecting the -invisible world, the First Cause, the revelation of God in -Christ, in the Gospel, the Scriptures, and the Church. She bears -witness at the same time of God and of herself, and even those -who cannot accept her testimony admit that of all the enemies of -infidelity her presence is the most imposing, and her language -the most unwavering and distinct. None can accuse her of -hostility to science, for the Holy See in this, as in all past -ages, has repeatedly declared with what favor it looks on really -scientific labors. "It is _impudently_ bruited abroad," -wrote Pius IX. to M. Mahon de Monaghan, [Footnote 142] "that the -Catholic religion and the Roman pontificate are adverse to -civilization and progress, and therefore to the happiness which -may thence be expected." "Rome," says the _Dublin Review_, -[Footnote 143] "does not aim directly at material well-being; she -does not teach astronomy or dynamics; she propounds no system of -induction; she invents neither printing-press, steam-engines, nor -telegraphs; but she so raises man above the brute, curbs his -passions, improves his understanding, instils into him principles -of duty and a sense of responsibility, so hallows his ambition -and kindles his desire for the good of his kind and the progress -of humanity, that, under her influence, he acquires insensibly an -aptitude for the successful pursuit even of physical science, -such as no other teacher could impart. - - [Footnote 142: See _Rome et la Civilisation_. Paris, - 1863.] - - [Footnote 143: April, 1866, pp. 299, 301.] - -{505} - -.... It is manifest to all whose thoughts reach below the surface -of things, that the services which Lord Bacon rendered to -philosophy, and Newton to science, were indirectly due to the -Catholic Church." - -If the Catholic Church is ever to be rebuilt among us in anything -like its ancient power and splendor, it must be raised on a broad -basis. We do not mean that its real foundations admit of change -or extension. They are the same from age to age. But they must, -to meet the wants of the age, be made to appear as comprehensive -as they really are. Happily, tolerant maxims now prevail in -religion, and liberal views in politics. The divine right of -hereditary kings is exploded, and persecution is no longer held -up as a sacred duty. The Catholic Church, rightly understood, is -the most liberal of all institutions. It is the source and -security of true freedom, and it is only when perverted that it -can serve the cause of despotism. It has everything to gain from -liberty, and everything to lose by adopting tyrannical -principles. Its best friends in England are those who labor to -develop and exhibit its alliance with all that is true in science -and good in mankind, and who rely more upon its heavenly powers -of persuasion than on any excommunications and anathemas, who -conciliate to the utmost without compromise, and relax rules -without ever breaking or warping them. Anti-catholic writers have -labored hard to prove that our religion is the enemy of progress, -and it is therefore our duty and interest to show by word and -deed how utterly false their assertions on this subject are. It -will be a greater triumph for the church to have demonstrated her -superior philosophy after fair discussion, than it would have -been to suppress that discussion or to shirk it. We have really -nothing to fear. Catholicism lies at the root of all sciences, -and it alone makes progress possible. - -Such are the views of the wisest and best of those English -Catholics who work in the literary hive. They heartily adopt the -words of M. Cochin, in his speech at Malines. "Christianity is -the father of all progress, of all discoveries." "Every science -is one of God's arguments, and every progress one of God's -instruments." Modern science is but an offshoot of the Gospel, a -result of the Incarnation. It redeems our bodies from a thousand -disabilities and discomforts, as the Cross has redeemed our -souls. The discovery of America, the art of printing, the -telescope, the microscope, the clock, the mariner's needle, the -steam-engine, superseding the slaves who were once the machinery -of the world, gas, telegraphic wires, what are they but minor -gospels and temporary redemptions for the toiling and weary sons -of men? The Church views such improvements with delight, and sees -in them the means, when rightly employed, of restoring the broken -alliance between earthly and heavenly blessings. Is this what you -call material progress? No, no; it is all moral improvement. You -might as well call the press a material improvement as the -railroad and the telegraph. As the one brings thought into -immortal life, so the others redeem man from the sorrows of -intervening distance. The Church affiliates them gladly to -herself, and traces a moral advance in every material gain, a -development of redemption by Christ in the progress of -agriculture, improved machinery, in chloroform, in short-hand, -lithography, photography, the respirator, and ever implement and -utensil which makes labor less irksome and pain less poignant. - -{506} - -In the science of political economy especially, English Catholics -are anxious to rectify prevalent mistakes, and place that -delightful study on its proper basis. The writings of Ricardo and -Adam Smith, of McCulloch, Senior, and Mill, have familiarized -persons' minds with the subject, but they have failed to show how -every principle and statement of sound political economy rests on -some maxim of the Gospel or of the church. - -The Utilitarian doctrines of Jeremy Bentham were as bald and -selfish as those of Malthus on Population were immoral and -absurd. Self-restraint and self renunciation are the soul of -thrift, the source of wealth, the element of labor, the -main-spring of exertion, the corner-stone of the social edifice, -the health of the community, the rectifying principle which keeps -the whole machinery of society in active and harmonious -operation. It would make the rich poor in spirit, and the poor -comparatively rich. It would place a happy limit to the extremes -of wealth and indigence. It is, or should be, the fundamental -principle of the production and distribution of wealth. If duly -carried out, it would promote solidarity in all its branches to a -wonderful extent, and secure liberty as the condition requisite -for the very existence of property and the only possible sphere -of mutual exertion. M. Perin [Footnote 144] has shown with -admirable force and precision how Catholicism establishes -self-renunciation as "the corner-stone of all social relations," -and guarantees "the greatest freedom to man, and the greatest -security to property." The _Dublin Review_ [Footnote 145] -also has done good service in popularizing M. Perin's arguments -and supplying an antidote to the defective teaching of John -Stuart Mill, and other non-Catholic political economists. - - [Footnote 144: _De la Richesse dans les Sociétés - Chrétiennes_.] - - [Footnote 145: April, 1866. _Christian Political - Economy_.] - -The Academia of the Catholic Religion, founded by Cardinal -Wiseman in 1861, continues to be productive of happy results. Its -main design was to exhibit, in the lectures delivered at its -meetings and published afterward, the alliance between sacred and -secular science. It is affiliated to the Academia in Rome, and -two volumes of essays read before it have already appeared in -print. [Footnote 146] The rich and varied learning of Cardinal -Wiseman, the clear, incisive style of Dr. Manning, the minute -mediaeval lore of Dr. Rock, the calm and affectionate tone of Mr. -Oakeley, the acumen and exhaustive faculties of Dr. Ward, render -these publications very attractive to Catholics who are fond of -argumentative writing. They keep up active thought and -speculation in a highly influential circle, and are valuable -landmarks in the history of the Catholic revival in England. The -meetings of the Academia are held at the Archbishop's residence -in York Place, London. - - [Footnote 146: First Series, 1865. Second Series, 1868. - Longmans.] - -It is a remarkable fact that at this moment [Footnote 147] there -are two political parties in the state, each of which is bent on -advancing Catholic interests, though in different ways. - - [Footnote 147: April, 1868.] - -Mr. Disraeli and Mr. Gladstone, the heads respectively of the -Conservative and Liberal parties, are seeking to redress one of -the great evils of Ireland, the former by _levelling up_ and -the latter by _levelling down_. The government would, if it -were able, raise the Catholic church in Ireland to a footing with -the Establishment by endowing a Catholic University and the -Catholic priesthood, while the opposition proposes simply the -disestablishment and disendowment of the Irish Protestant church. -{507} -In both cases the result would be religious equality in Ireland, -though there can be no doubt that the plan suggested by the -Liberals is the more rational and feasible one. It is the one, -moreover, which is sanctioned by the Cardinal Archbishop of -Dublin and by the Archbishop of Westminster. On Sunday, the 12th -of April, the faithful in London signed a petition in favor of -Mr. Gladstone's resolutions by the Archbishop's express -recommendation. It is pleasant to see the Catholic Primate and -the future Prime Minister of England thus cooperating in the -interests of the Catholic religion, especially when we remember -that they are old friends and were at college together. - -The Easter of 1868 has been marked by great increase of spiritual -activity in the churches of large towns. Numbers of Catholics who -had neglected the sacraments have been restored to the use of -them, and Protestants come Sunday after Sunday to hear the -sermons delivered in our churches. [Footnote 148] - - [Footnote 148: _Weekly Register_, April 11, 1868.] - -The public mind is stirred on the subject of our religion, and -curiosity in very numerous instances ends in conversion. A recent -clerical convert has placed £5000 in the hands of a prelate for -the good of his diocese, and a whole community of Anglican -Sisters of Mercy have yielded to the direction of clergymen who -are priests indeed. The Ritualist parsons are busy fraying the -way for Roman missionaries. Their altars are draped in colors -according to the season, acolytes bend before them and serve, -water is mingled with their sacramental wine, lights are burning -at their communions, the host is elevated, their robes are -gorgeously embroidered, and dense clouds of incense mount before -their shrines, as if they were dedicated to the God of unity -under the patronage of Catholic saints. Many of their flock are -deluded by this empty pomp, but many also are led by it to the -true springs of faith and the observance of a better ceremonial. -During the first half of the present century 260 religious houses -and colleges have been raised in England to repair the loss of -681 monasteries of men and women uprooted at the time of the -Reformation. If we continue and end the century with equal -exertions--and it is probable we shall exceed rather than fall -short of them--we shall by that time have nearly as many -religious institutions as our forefathers could boast after the -sway of the church in England had lasted 800 years under royal -protection. - -------------- - -{508} - - Sketches Drawn From The Abbé Lagrange's - Life of St. Paula. - - In Three Chapters. - - - Chapter II. - -God had given great compensation to Paula in the rare natures of -her children. The eldest, and perhaps the most gifted, Blesilla, -combined with delicate health an ardent soul, quick wit, and a -charming mind. Her penetration astonished even St. Jerome. She -was full of those characteristics that make one hope everything -and fear everything. She was but fifteen when she lost her -father, and seventeen when St. Jerome first knew her, in the -first bloom of her youth and beauty. She spoke Greek and Latin -with perfect purity, and the elegance of her language was -remarkable, as well as the quickness of her intellect. - -Paula, full of anxiety for such a nature, sought to give her the -counterpoise of solid piety. But Blesilla, though capable of -exalted virtues, was intoxicated by the splendors of the sphere -in which she was born and educated. Like all young girls of her -rank, she loved dress, luxury, and entertainments, and neither -the death of her father nor her mother's example had detached her -heart from the world, neither did her early widowhood; for Paula -had given her in marriage to a young and rich patrician of the -race of Camillus, who died in a short time after, leaving -Blesilla a widow and without children. But even this blow did not -suffice, and, after the usual time given to mourning, the worldly -and frivolous tastes of the young widow again rose to the -surface. She passed many hours before her glass, busy in adorning -herself, surrounded by her slaves occupied in dressing her hair -and waiting on her, and entertainments of all sorts were her -delight. - -Paulina, the second daughter of Paula, was, as we have already -said, a great contrast to her sister. Less brilliant, but not -less agreeable, great good sense was her chief attribute, with -sweetness of disposition. Less captivated by the world than -Blesilla, she was more inclined to be pious. The equilibrium in -her nature was excellent. But there was nothing in any way -uncommon about her. She seemed born for the ordinary destiny of -woman. She was now sixteen, and Paula, with an instinct truly -maternal, felt that what she had to do for her child was to give -her a protector worthy of her, in a husband of sound character -and amiable disposition. - -But the pearl of Paula's children was her third daughter, -Eustochium, who was sweetness and candor itself, and all -innocence and piety. Her distinguishing feature was her love for -her mother, whom she never for a moment quitted. Marcella kept -her with her for some time, and when the child returned to Paula, -she clung more than ever to her mother, like a young vine. Her -only wish was to follow in the footsteps of Paula and to be like -her, and to consecrate herself also to the service of God with -her young virginal heart. Soft and silent, but hiding under this -veil of timidity a remarkable mind, Eustochium was formed for -high purposes. She was not fourteen when St. Jerome came to Rome. - -{509} - -Rufina was then only eleven or twelve years of age, and the time -had not yet come for anxiety about her. It was, however, -different with Toxotius, who was younger still, but had not -received baptism, his father's family having assumed his -guardianship; and they were pagans, which grieved Paula, who -hoped to make her son a fervent Christian. - -Such was the family of Paula. Her many duties to them had excited -the interest of the austere monk, who, together with Marcella, -wished to do everything possible to aid Paula in her cares. -Blesilla at once filled the mind of St. Jerome with the ardent -wish to save her from the career of worldliness on which she -seemed bent; but in vain did he try to bring her to grave -thoughts. Paulina was easier to guide, for Providence aided the -pious efforts of her friends in the husband chosen for her by her -mother, who was Pammachius, of whom St. Jerome has said that he -was "the most Christian of the noble Romans, and the most noble -of the Christians." He was also the old and tried friend of St. -Jerome, to whom this marriage gave great happiness, as well as to -Paula and Marcella. - -As for Eustochium, she continued to expand and bloom under the -influence of her mother. In vain were the rich dresses of her -sisters and their shining jewels spread out before her. Her taste -for religious life was becoming more and more decided every day. -Notwithstanding her great youth, none of the maidens of the -Aventine surpassed her in prayer, or in following St. Jerome in -his laborious studies of the Scriptures. She had learnt Hebrew, -and, like her mother, had inspired St. Jerome with singular -devotion and interest. The increasing vocation of Eustochium -aroused opposition in her father's family; for it was not -possible that the progress of monastic tendencies among the -patrician women should be allowed to take root without resistance -in Rome, where opposition was made by law to anything like -celibacy for men, with open advocacy of matrimony and the honors -of maternity for women. - -St. Jerome undertook to modify these ideas with his powerful pen, -and, in his answer to the attack of one named Helvidius, came off -the field completely victorious. - -It was about this time, 384 A.D., that Blesilla fell ill of a -pernicious fever, which for a month threatened her life. This -illness brought her wisdom. The following is the story of her -conversion, from St. Jerome: "During thirty days," he says, "we -saw our Blesilla burning with a devouring fever. She lay almost -bereft of life, panting under the struggle with death, and -trembling at the thought of the judgments of God. Where then was -the help of those who gave her worldly counsels? of those who -prevented her from living for Christ? Could they save her from -death? No. But our Lord himself, seeing that she was only carried -away by the intoxication of youth and the errors of her century, -came to her, touched her hand, and cried out to her, as to -Lazarus, 'Arise, come forth and walk!' She understood this call, -and she arose and knew that she owed the boon of life to him who -had given it back to her." She was then but twenty years of age, -when she shone in her new-born beauty of holiness. -{510} -She, who formerly passed long hours at her toilet, now sought -only to find God; and, instead of the ornaments in which she had -liked to appear, she now covered her fair head with the veil most -becoming for a Christian woman. All the money that had been spent -for adorning herself now went to the poor. And this ardent soul, -once consecrated to God, gave itself up entirely, and, passing -with a great flight beyond ordinary natures, at once reached the -summit of human virtue and perfection. - -Eustochium and Paula had not more ardor. Jerome was admirable in -his manner of seconding this generous enthusiasm. He now -instructed her in the Scriptures, and she studied first -Ecclesiastes, then the gospels, and Isaiah. She learned Hebrew to -read the Psalms. Her energy was wonderful, for her steps still -tottered from illness, and her delicate neck drooped under the -weight of her young head. But the divine book was never out of -her hands. - -How shall we paint the joy of Paula at this change in her beloved -child! Her dearest wishes had been granted. This, too, was a -fruitful conversion; others imitated such an example; and Paula's -house soon became a sort of monastery, which Jerome would call -the _fireside church_. He gives a most beautiful description -of Paula and her children at this period, when the blessing of -God was so visibly on her household. Her fervor increased. She -determined on a complete sacrifice of her worldly goods, and, in -the words of St. Jerome, "being already dead to the world, though -still living, she distributed all her fortune among her -children," thereby entirely initiating herself into the holy -poverty of Christ. Notwithstanding all the consolations God had -sent her, she was still uneasy and dissatisfied; her life was not -yet all that she sighed for. A great disgust toward Rome filled -her mind, and the descriptions Epiphanius had given her of the -East rose up for ever in her, making her soul long for the -monastic life of the desert. The example of Melanie was then to -increase this longing, for Melanie had now been for some years -realizing her dreams in her convent on the Mount of Olives. - -There was now nothing to prevent Paula from going. Blesilla, as -well as Eustochium, wished to follow their mother in her -pilgrimage, and many of their friends desired to join them. St. -Jerome, the veteran pilgrim, was to be their pilot to holy -places. He had strengthened them all in the love of God and -nourished them with the Holy Scriptures. His letters to -Eustochium at this time were exquisite. What could be more -touching than the friendship uniting the austere old monk and -this sweet young maiden? "O my Eustochium! O my daughter! O my -sister!" he wrote to her, "since my age and charity alike permit -me to give you these names, if you are by birth the noblest of -Roman virgins, I beseech you guard zealously your own heart and -keep it from evil. Imitate our Lord Jesus Christ, be obedient to -your parents, go out rarely, and honor the martyrs in the -solitude of your chamber. Read often and you will learn much. Let -sleep surprise you with the holy book in your hands, and, if your -head drop down with fatigue, let it be on the sacred pages." - -Eustochium was grateful to him for his wise counsels, and, -wishing to express her appreciation of his letters to her, she -gathered courage to send him a little offering of a basket of -cherries, with several of those bracelets called _armillae_ -and some doves. The whole was accompanied by a sweet, girlish -letter, full of affection. The cherries, she said, were a symbol -of purity, to remind him of his letters; the bracelets were such -as were given to reward brilliant deeds, and were to put him in -mind of his own victories in controversy; and, lastly, the doves -were emblematic of his tenderness to her from her childhood. - -{511} - -St. Jerome received with great kindness the little offerings of -his spiritual daughter, and thanked her for them in a letter full -of affection, mingled with the grave counsels which ever flowed -from his pen. - -The time was approaching for the departure of Paula for the East. -It was in the autumn of 384 A.D., when Blesilla suddenly fell ill -of the same fever which had once before laid her so low. The news -of her illness filled her friends with consternation, for -Blesilla was tenderly loved by them. She sank so rapidly that -there was soon no hope left of her recovery. This was but four -months after her conversion, and God already judged her ready for -a better life, and called her to himself. - -She was but twenty, and was going to die. Her mother, her -sisters, her relations, her friends, Marcella and St. Jerome, all -gathered around her death-bed in tears. Blesilla alone did not -weep. Though the fever was consuming her, a ray of celestial -light illuminated her countenance with a beauty not of earth, and -transfigured her. Her only regret was, that her repentance had -been so short. She turned to those who were around her: "Oh! pray -for me," she cried, "to our Lord Jesus Christ, to have mercy on -my soul, since I die before I have been able to accomplish what I -had in my heart to do for him." These were her last words; every -one present was moved to tears by them. Jerome eagerly offered -consolation. "Trust in the Lord, dear Blesilla," said he; "your -soul is as pure as the white robes you have worn since your -consecration to God, which though but recent was so generous and -complete that it came not too late." These words filled her soul -with peace. And shortly afterward, to use the words of St. -Jerome, "freeing herself from the pains of the body, this white -dove flew off to heaven!" - -Her obsequies were magnificent, followed by all the Roman nobles. -Such was the custom of the patricians. A peculiar interest and -sympathy were felt in the fate of this brilliant young woman, as -well as universal compassion for the sorrow of her venerable -mother. The long procession walked through the streets, followed -by the coffin covered with a veil of gold. St. Jerome, though not -approving of this display, dared not interfere to prevent it, as -it seemed a sad consolation to Paula to see the honors paid to -the child so tenderly loved. She undertook to accompany Blesilla -to her last resting-place; but her strength failed, and, having -taken but a few steps, she fainted away and was brought back to -her house insensible. - -The days that followed the funeral only increased her grief. She -was crushed by it. In vain did she try to submit to the divine -will, her heart failed her, and Jerome felt that he must make an -effort to give her strength, or else she would succumb to the -pressure. The effort was great on his part, for Blesilla was his -beloved pupil, and this death annihilated all his own cherished -hopes of her. He never found the courage to conclude a -commentary, begun expressly for her, on Ecclesiastes. But feeling -it a duty to help Paula, he wrote to her a letter filled with -true delicacy of feeling and Christian faith. He commenced by -weeping with her over the lost Blesilla, for he said: "While -wishing to dry her mother's tears, am I not weeping myself?" -{512} -He continued this noble letter in these words, alike reproachful -and sympathizing: "When I reflect that you are a mother, I do not -blame you for weeping; but when I reflect also that you are a -Christian, then, O Paula! I wish that the Christian would console -the mother a little." - -He reminded her of the children she had left, and with all the -authority of his holy office bid her take care lest, "in loving -her children so much, she did not love God enough." "Listen," he -says, "to Jesus, and trust in him: 'Your daughter is not dead, -but sleepeth.'" - -Then Jerome would picture to Paula her daughter in all her -celestial glory. He would suppose Blesilla calling upon her -mother in these words: "If you have ever loved me, O my mother! -if you have ever nourished me from your bosom, and trained my -soul with your words of wisdom and virtue, oh! I conjure you, do -not lament that I have such glory and happiness as is mine here! -What prayers does Blesilla not now offer up for you to God!" And -St. Jerome adds, "She is praying for me also, for you know, O -Paula! how devoted I was to her soul, and what I did not fear to -brave, that she might be saved." - -St. Jerome's letter awoke new Christian strength and resignation -in the broken spirit of Paula. The tears ceased to flow, but the -wound bled inwardly and never healed. The void left by Blesilla -in her mother's heart must ever make it desolate. Rome became -insupportable to her, and the pilgrimage to the East, so long -thought of, seemed now the only thing that could interest her. -About this time Pope Damasus died. He was a great loss to St. -Jerome, for his successor had not the same moral courage, and -dared not sustain the old monk in advocating monastic life, which -so enraged the patricians. - -Finally, worn out by persecution, and perhaps longing to return -to that solitude he had never ceased to regret, Jerome determined -to leave Rome. This was in the year 385 A.D. His friends were -only waiting for his signal to accompany him in numbers, and many -were the tears shed by his gentle pupils in Rome at his -departure. His farewell letter to them all was addressed to the -venerable Asella, through whom he sent his last greetings to -Paula, Eustochium, Albina, Marcella, Marcellina, and Felicity, -"his sisters in Jesus Christ." Many of these he was destined to -see no more. But the decision of Paula was irrevocable. She had -no longer any earthly tie to detain her. Her son, moved by the -example of his mother and sisters, had received Christian -baptism, and was soon to marry a young Christian maiden, the -cousin of Marcella. Rufina was to remain during her mother's -absence with her sister Paulina and Pammachius, and also with -Marcella, her second mother. - -Eustochium was to accompany her mother, as well as a large number -of the pious community of the Aventine. They left Rome in the -autumn of 385 A.D. Paula courageously bid farewell to her -children, and the friends who had followed in troops to see her -embark. Leaning on the arm of Eustochium, she was seen on the -deck of the vessel, her eyes averted, that her strength might not -fail her as she witnessed the sorrow of her loved ones whom she -was leaving. For St. Jerome tells us, "Paula loved her children -more than any other woman." - -{513} - -The voyage was favorable, the vessel touching at many places of -classic interest. When they finally reached Salamines in the -Island of Cyprus, what was her joy on finding her venerable -friend, St. Epiphanius, waiting on the shore to receive her, -happy in being able to return the hospitality he had enjoyed -under her roof in Rome three years before. - -The Island of Cyprus was filled with monasteries and convents -founded and protected by Epiphanius, which were a great -attraction to Paula. Holy hymns were sung where Venus but lately -had reigned supreme; and the grave of the holy patriarch Hilarion -stood near the ruins of the ancient temple of the heathen -goddess. - -After leaving Cyprus, Paula went to Antioch. There Jerome and the -priests and monks who had accompanied him from Rome were awaiting -her with Paulinus, the bishop. They wished to detain her; but -since her feet had touched land her ardor to reach Jerusalem had -so increased that nothing could stop her. To follow the footsteps -of Christ, to see where his precious blood was shed, then to -visit the anachorites of the desert, such was Paula's thought. -Eustochium and her companions shared this desire. No time was -lost. A caravan was organized, Jerome and his friends on -dromedaries, Paula and her suite on asses, and they began their -journey together. The road from Antioch to Jerusalem was long and -fatiguing for women so delicately bred. A journey in those days -was full of perils of which we now have no idea. But Paula was -indefatigable, deterred by no dangers and complaining of no -inconveniences, as she crossed the icy plains at this most trying -season of the year. St. Jerome tells of the cities that she saw, -and of the emotions that she felt as her knowledge of Scripture -and of holy books brought up recollections and associations -either of Jewish or of Christian history wherever she went. -Besides, Jerome was there, with his prodigious memory and -knowledge, to throw light on every step. - -As Paula approached Jerusalem, her soul was more deeply moved, -than it had yet been. The view of the landscape around the city -was desolate, even as early as the fourth century. She entered by -the Gate of Jaffa, also called the Gate of David and the Gate of -the Pilgrims. The proconsul of Palestine had sent an escort to -meet her, to receive her with honor; but with that sentiment -which later made Godefroi de Bouillon refuse to wear a golden -crown where God had worn one of thorns, Paula refused to lodge in -the palace offered for her convenience, and she and her whole -suite staid at a modest dwelling not far from Calvary; then she -started at once to visit the Holy Places. Who can describe her -feelings as she entered the church of the Holy Sepulchre? In the -fourth century, the stone which closed the entrance to the tomb -of our Lord was still to be seen by the faithful pilgrims. To-day -it is covered by a monument of marble. As soon as Paula saw it, -with great emotion she embraced it; but when she entered into the -sepulchre itself, and went up to the rock on which had laid the -body of our Lord, she could no longer restrain her tears, and, -falling on her knees, sobbed and wept abundantly. All Jerusalem -saw these tears, and were edified at the great piety of this -noble Roman lady, the daughter of the Scipios. - -St. Jerome tells us that, while she was in Jerusalem, "she would -see everything," and that "she was only dragged away from one -holy place that she might be taken to another." - -{514} - -After having visited Jerusalem, the pilgrims travelled all over -the Holy Land, commencing with Bethlehem and Judea, then visiting -Jericho and the Jordan, Samaria and Galilee as far as Nazareth, -and finally, reorganizing the caravan, they set out for Egypt; -not, however, before paying a visit to Melanie, in her convent on -the Mount of Olives, whence they returned to Jerusalem. - -Paula would now have fixed herself at Bethlehem but for this -longing to visit the fathers of the desert. They started on this, -the longest and most fatiguing part of their journey, and were -sixteen days in going from Jerusalem to Alexandria. This city was -the Athens of the East. In such an atmosphere of learning, there -had been great intellectual development among the Christians, and -the school of Christian philosophers of Alexandria was renowned -throughout the world. This was what detained Paula and -Eustochium, and particularly Jerome, some time at Alexandria, -where they were received with great hospitality by the bishop, -Theophilus. But even the most interesting studies could not make -Paula forget the principal object of her voyage to Egypt, and her -desire to see and to know the ascetics, that wonderful class of -men, who voluntarily exiled themselves from the world and from -all human ties, and astonished mankind by incredible austerities, -and by consecrating their lives entirely to spiritual things and -to a future existence. At this time the number of these -anachorites had so multiplied, that it was said that in Egypt the -deserts had as many inhabitants as the cities. Monastic life was -then in all its glory. The great anachorites, Paul, Antony, -Hilarion, and Pacomius, were dead; but their disciples lived, as -celebrated as themselves. A great work of organization had been -accomplished among them. The first men who came to the desert -lived alone in caves or cells, each following his individual -inspiration. Paul had lived forty years in a grotto, at the -entrance of which was a spring and a palm-tree, drinking the -water of the spring and eating the fruit of the tree, being his -only nourishment. Antony's life had been more extraordinary -still. But when the number of the hermits increased, they felt -the necessity of community life being established, and the -cenobites began to take the place of the anachorites, though -there remained many of the latter, dividing, as it were, the -hermits into two kinds, the Anachorites and the Cenobites. Large -convents spread out along the banks of the Nile to the furthest -extremity of Egypt. - -It was not easy to visit these establishments. In going there, -many years before, Melanie and her companions had been lost for -five days, and their provisions being exhausted they had nearly -died of hunger and thirst in the desert. Crocodiles, basking in -the sun, had awaited with open jaws to devour them, and -numberless other dangers had beset them. - -But this did not discourage Paula, and her route being happily -chosen, she accomplished her journey safely to the mountain of -Nitria, where five thousand cenobites lived in fifty different -convents, under the rule of one abbot. The news of her coming had -preceded her, and the Bishop of Heliopolis had come to welcome -the noble lady. He was surrounded by a great crowd of cenobites -and anachorites. As soon as they perceived the caravan, they came -forward singing hymns. Paula was soon surrounded. She declared -herself most unworthy of the honors accorded her, and at the same -time glorified God, who worked such marvels in the desert. The -bishop first conducted the pious band to the church situated on -the summit of the mountain, and there, with that hospitality for -which the monks of the East were ever remarkable, the travellers -were given the best rooms attached to the convent and intended -for the use and convenience of strangers. -{515} -Fresh water was brought to them to wash their feet, and linen to -dry them, and the fruits of the desert to refresh their palates; -after which they were allowed to visit the convents and the -hermits, whose life was very simple and very free, at the same -time holy and austere. Ambitious of reducing the body to -servitude, and to penetrate the secrets of things divine, they -united action with contemplation. Their days were passed between -work and prayer. Some were to be seen digging the earth, cutting -trees, fishing in the Nile, or perhaps plaiting the mats on which -they were to die. Others were absorbed by the reading of, or -meditation on, the Holy Scriptures. The monasteries swarmed like -bee-hives. - -After having witnessed the cenobitical life, Paula went to the -desert of cells to see the anachorite life, which there was -carried out in all its austerity and all its poetry. These monks -had no walls built by man, but had retired to the mountains as to -the most inaccessible asylums. Caverns and rocks were their -dwellings, the earth their table, their food roots and wild -plants, and water from the springs their refreshment. Their -prayers were continual, and all the mountain hollows rang with -God's praises. These grottoes did not communicate with each -other, and the isolation of the anachorites was complete. Once a -week, on Sunday only, they left their cells, and, dressed in -robes made of palm-leaves or of sheepskin, they went to the -church of Nitria, where they saw one another, and also met the -cenobites. Paula wished to know and listen to these pious men. -She therefore visited all the grottoes, one by one, talking -always of the things of God to their inmates. - -Paula's next visit was through a still more savage country to see -those called by St. Jerome "the columns of the desert." She cared -not for dangers nor fatigue, so that she could contemplate such -men as _Macarius_--the disciple of Antony and Pacomius--a -man so austere that he had astonished Pacomius himself, who had -watched him during the whole of one Lent plaiting mats in his -cell, without speaking to any one, all absorbed in God, and only -eating once a week, on Sunday, a few raw vegetables. None could -surpass this great ascetic. He permitted the pilgrims to -penetrate into his grotto, and delighted Paula with his holy -conversation and instruction. - -Jerome admired likewise the prodigies of this pure and austere -life; but more occupied than Paula with the doctrines he heard -discussed, he had perceived that some of the monks were less -enlightened than others. It seems, as it afterward was proved, -that the theories of Origen were already beginning to trouble the -inhabitants of the desert. - -There remained now, to complete Paula's insight into the life of -the hermits, but to visit the convents founded by Pacomius, which -she hesitated not to do. There were six thousand monks living in -them, governed by the venerable Serapion. Their rule divided each -monastery into a certain number of families. Their frugal lives -enabled them to extend their charities far and wide. Their -fasting and abstinence lasted all the year round, becoming only -more strict in Lent. Paula enjoyed their hospitality greatly, -learning much from Serapion that delighted her about this -well-organized monastic life which realized her ideal. - -{516} - -She thought for a moment of establishing herself in the desert, -and of requesting Serapion to admit her colony under the rule of -Pacomius; but the love of the Holy Places prevented her from -carrying out this plan. She said "her resting-place was not in -these deserts, it was in Bethlehem." Already had she lingered too -long! She had now learned all that she wished to learn, enough -for her own guidance. She therefore embarked with her entire -caravan for Maioma, a sea-port of Gaza; and from there, without -stopping on her way, she returned to Jerusalem, and thence to -Bethlehem, with as much rapidity, says St. Jerome, as if she had -had wings. - -Here the news awaited her of the death of her daughter Rufina. -The blow was terrible to Paula, but her mind was strengthened by -all she had seen, and the voice of God reached her heart and -comforted her, and gave her stronger hope than she had ever had -in reunion hereafter with her beloved children. She sought to -make herself worthy of immortality, and her faith and her good -works brought her consolation and peace. She resolved to found -two monasteries: one for herself, Eustochium, and her friends -from the Aventine; the other for Jerome and his followers. This -was done without delay, and they at once began the life which -they longed for--a life of labor, of study, and of prayer. - - - To Be Continued. - -------------- - - To The Count De Montalembert, - With A Copy Of "Inisfail." [Footnote 149] - - [Footnote 149: From a forthcoming volume of Poems, by Aubrey - de Vere, now in press by the Catholic Publication Society.] - - - Your spirit walks in halls of light: - On earth you breathe its sunnier climes: - How can an Irish muse invite - Your fancy thus to sorrowing rhymes? - - But you have fought the church's fight! - My country's cause and hers are one: - And every cause that rests on Right - Invokes Religion's bravest son. - ----------- - -{517} - - The Legend of Glastonbury.--A D. 62. - - -Down in the pleasant west of England a river--the copious -Brue--follows its course to Bridgewater Bay, between the -Sedgemoors and other rising grounds. Somersetshire farmers now -drive their ploughs and graze their cattle where I am going to -describe water: thanks to those Benedictine monks whom they have -so clean forgotten. But at Christmas-tide, some sixty years after -the first Christmas the world ever saw, there were no monks at -Glastonbury; for the simple reason, there were no Christians -there. No one had banked out the waters of the Bristol Channel, -and converted a brackish and unwholesome swamp into fine arable -or pasture land. The Brue had it all its own way, to make -islands, pools, and treacherous bogs with its unrestrained -waters; until it had got so far west as to struggle with the -advancing tide of the bay. - -Glastonbury has the holiest memories of any place in England; and -they date from the first moment when the faith was planted there. -The sacred name of our Lord was brought to this marshy district -in a far-off heathen land by one of his own disciples, Saint -Joseph of Arimathea. - -Who has not heard of the Glastonbury thorn? A history of Somerset -would be incomplete which did not mention its blossoming every -Christmas that comes round. It was fair and fragrant for fifteen -hundred winters, while all around was sapless and dead. People -try to account for this standing miracle by something peculiar in -the soil, as they would explain away the freedom of Ireland from -snakes and toads, or the healing virtues of St. Winifred's Well. -There were probably Sadducees in Jerusalem who thought the Pool -of Bethesda was all nonsense, or a mere chalybeate. Anything you -like about the powers of nature, but nothing of the marvels of -grace. Chemistry to any extent, but of miracle not one jot. -Thorns blooming at Christmas? It is all a question of earth, -soil, stratum, and the lay of the ground, with those who are "of -the earth, earthy." - -But we are now on our way to Glastonbury as Christian pilgrims, -staff in hand. And it is very fit that we should regard the old -thorn (or such suckers and cuttings of it as may be found) with -reverence. For that thorn is a Christian tree, planted by -Christian hands. More than this: it was planted by the hands -whose unutterable privilege it was to unfasten and take down from -the cross, and bear with adoring reverence to the tomb, the body -of God, separated from his soul, united ever with his divinity. - -We are accustomed, in our meditations on the passion, to -contemplate the emaciated, agonized form of our Lord stretched -and racked upon the cross; or, after the _Consummatum est_, -when eventide was come, laid stark and bloodless in the arms of -the Queen of martyrs, his most desolate Mother. Naturally we lose -out of sight, by comparison, other agents and events in what -followed his expiring cry. Yet look again. In the growing dusk of -that first Good Friday, at the foot of the cross, and in the -group of five or six persons to whom the eternal Father seems to -commit the lifeless body of his Son, there is the saint of -Glastonbury. -{518} -With the dolorous Mother, and the beloved disciple, and the -saintly, penitent Magdalene, and the other holy women, and -Nicodemus, St. Joseph of Arimathea also bears his part. - -To come back to Glastonbury; we must pass over some thirty years -from that sacred paschal eve. Pentecost soon followed it, with -its fiery tongues on the apostles' brows. They were illuminated -and strengthened to preach the faith over the earth lying in -darkness. So they separated on this world-wide mission, each on -the path whereon the guidance of God's Spirit led him. "Their -sound went over all the earth, and their words unto the ends of -the whole world." St. Philip went into Phrygia, and, by some -accounts, was martyred there. Others make him to have preached -the gospel in what is now France, and that St. Joseph was one of -his companions. A better supported tradition has it that St. -Joseph, with St. Lazarus and his two holy sisters, Martha and -Mary, landed at Marseilles from Judea. Anyhow, here comes St. -Joseph of Arimathea to Britain, with a faithful band of eleven -disciples. He has reached the distant region of tin-mines which -the old Phoenicians had discovered and worked in Cornwall, -Scilly, and, perhaps, the Mendip Hills. He is come not for -precious metals, but to bring the priceless word of life. - -So, rather more than sixty years after the Incarnation, and while -Saints Peter and Paul are still alive in Rome, though the day of -their martyrdom draws near, we find ourselves on the brow of -Weary-All Hill, a mile or so south-west of the spot where -Glastonbury Abbey will be built. - -Weary-All Hill! the name it has been known by for generations -back. But not a likely name to be given it by St. Joseph and his -eleven companions, as they stood on it for the first time, -eighteen centuries ago; as they looked on the marshy plain, -dotted with islands, in and out of which the glassy stream is -winding. Weariness, at least lassitude of spirit, was unknown to -those apostolic men. Had they not come all this way to bring the -everlasting gospel? Had not their feet been "beautiful upon the -mountains" as they crossed them, bearing this message of heavenly -love?--mountains deep in snow, yawning with frightful clefts and -precipices, gloomy with impenetrable forests, to which this -Weary-All is scarcely a mole-hill? - -"At length, then," said St. Joseph, when the twelve had paused on -the brow of it to recover breath; for few of them were young, and -it was rather a pull for a Somersetshire hill--"at length we have -reached the end of our pilgrimage." - -As he spoke, he pointed with his long staff to the little group -of islands already noticed. A cheery December sun lingered on the -scene, and, though it was evening, still cast a gleam upon the -wide-spread water. The Brue was winding along, noiseless and -limpid, sprinkled with its dark islets, as the shining coils of a -snake are variegated with the spots upon its skin. There was no -ice yet, though it was already the Christmas season. Perhaps the -sea-water that mingled with the marsh from the Bristol Channel -prevented its formation. The leafless thickets that fringed the -slopes of West Sedgemoor, and clothed both islands and marshland -in irregular clumps, allowed a more distinct view of the mirror -of waters than when shaded with summer foliage. There was a kind -of grave and sober animation over the whole scene. - -{519} - -A short distance further off, to the east, rose a solitary peaked -hill, perhaps even _then_ called the Tor. It has several -scarped lines, or passes, drawn around it, denoting that the -Romans had fortified it as a stronghold, which they occupied from -time to time. Years after, a little chapel in honor of St. -Michael the archangel will be built on its summit. Years later, -again, that little chapel will be enlarged into a stately church, -the tower of which still remains. And nearly fifteen centuries -after St. Joseph first stood on Weary-All, the last abbot of the -stately Benedictine monastery, as Glastonbury had become, was -martyred there with two of his monks. His crime was, that he -rendered to Caesar _only_ those things that were Caesar's, -and refused to acknowledge the tyrant Henry VIII. as head of -God's church in England. - -Northward of where we stand, at the distance of five miles and -more, the abrupt range of the Mendip Hills caught at that moment -almost the last beams of the declining sun, as it sank, fiery -red, toward the western ocean. - -"The end of our pilgrimage," said St. Joseph again, slowly, and -gazed down on the peaceful spot. "These are the islands of which -the heathen king spoke:--how are we to name him?" - -"Arviragus," answered one of his companions, nay, it was the -saint's own nephew, called Helaius. - -"Permitting us to set up there a Christian altar, and to proclaim -the names and the praises of Jesus and Mary." - -"May the kindness be returned a hundred-fold into his own bosom," -ejaculated Theotimus. - -"Amen," answered St. Joseph fervently. And Joseph his son, and -Simeon and Avitus, and the rest, responded. - -Then all knelt there on the brow of the hill; all but Hoel, their -poor pagan guide to the spot. And with Christian psalms, and the -Gloria Patri, and invocations to the court of heaven to assist -them in their praises, they poured out thanksgivings to him who -had permitted their long wanderings to cease, and their -missionary life in this heathen land to begin. - -Hoel stood near, leaning on his shepherd's crook. He guessed in -general what it was about; but he understood neither Hebrew nor -Greek. - -He is a true Briton of that date, is Hoel; and he might literally -be called "true blue," for he is painted all over in blue -patterns with the juice of the woad, like his northern cousins, -the Picts. His scanty garments are dyed the same hue with the -same plant, which yields its juice plentifully in this part of -Britain. - -He looks at the saint, and thinks he is inquiring the name of -that principal island in the group to which his staff points. - -"Iniswytryn," cries Hoel, in explanation. "You're Latin scholars, -gentlemen; so I suppose you know what that means--_Glassy -Island_." [Footnote 150] - - [Footnote 150: _Insula Vitrea_, the Roman and therefore - the British name (by a slight corruption) of what was - afterward called Glastonbury. _Glas_ is the Celtic word - for grayish blue, [Greek text] and enters into numerous local - names in Ireland, Wales, and the Highlands. Its affinity with - our word _glass_ is probably more than a coincidence of - sound, the ancient glass being mostly of the same neutral - tint. Others derive the name of the place from the - woad-plant, _glaisn_, which grows abundantly in this - watered district.] - -Glass, in those days, imported by the Romans into Britain, sorry -stuff as the best of it would now be reckoned in the Birmingham -or St. Helen's foundries, was thought a wonder of rarity and -beauty. So Glassy Island was a name equivalent to our calling -_another_ island that we love very dearly the - - "First flower of the earth, and first gem of the sea." - -{520} - -Hoel now spoke again in the same strange jargon as before, -composed of British, or what we should call Welsh, and a little -Latin. It was the dialect of those parts of Britain where the -Romans had established their colonies and introduced their -tongue. Be it noted, we are at this moment near the Roman -colonies of Uxella, or Bridgewater, Ad Aquas, or Wells, and -Ischalis, or Ilchester. - -"So you are going to settle down there," remarked Hoel. "Won't -you offer some sacrifice on first sighting the place?" - -"We have no means of sacrificing this evening, friend," answered -St. Joseph calmly, "nor to-morrow morning, I fear, unless we -obtain materials, which at present we lack." - -"Means!--materials!" said Hoel, musing with himself. "Well, every -nation, I take it, has its own customs. But I know those who -would not be long without providing the materials." - -St. Joseph wished to ascertain what was passing in the man's -mind. The zeal which urged St. Paul to become all things to all -men, that he might save all, burned in the holy missionary's -bosom. It made him seek out all that might serve the purpose of -his coming. He had everything to learn: language, habits of -thought, customs of social life, and the very observances of -British heathenism. - -"And how," he asked, "would you offer a sacrifice, good friend, -when you had nothing to offer it with?" - -"I? Nay, _I_ could not. What good would a sacrifice be from -a peasant like me?" - -"To pray is to make an offering, is it not?" - -"Yes; but I don't mean that. You know I mean something more; why, -something really sacrificed--consumed, to make the gods -favorable. Have you no such sacrifice in your religion? Then it -can't be the true one, _I'm_ sure!" - -"Certainly," said St. Joseph, "we have the one true and adorable -Sacrifice, of which all others are mere shadows, and some of them -very dark, distorted shadows. Every morning we offer to the true -and living God that spotless Lamb who alone can take away sin, or -be a worthy thank-offering to his majesty and his mercy." - -"A lamb?" said Hoel, still musing; "why, that's not to be had at -this season. But would nothing else do instead? For example, now, -I've a nice--" - -"Do not concern yourself," answered St. Joseph, and smiled again, -kindly. "We shall be able to provide ourselves in a few days, -when we have made acquaintance with the neighborhood. I suppose -they grow wine in these parts?" - -"Wine?" repeated the peasant, opening his eyes. "Oh! yes, to be -sure." Then, after a pause: "You're fond of wine, then, after -all, like our own Druids? Well, I should hardly have thought--" - -Helaius could hardly repress a smile at his mistake. - -Hoel looked at him; then, as if he had hit on the cause of his -amusement, laughed his loud clownish laugh, too. - -"Wine? Ah! the very best, if you can buy it of those gray-bearded -gentlemen; and old mead, and metheglin; or cider from our apples -hereabout. We grew a mortal sight of 'em." [Footnote 151] - - [Footnote 151: Glastonbury was afterward called by the Saxons - _Avalon_, or the Island of Apples.] - -Then he broke out into singing, and a kind of war-dance, to -please his companions, as he deemed: - - "All under yon oaks, and the mistletoe sprouting. - When victims have bled in the circle of stones. - We drink down the sunset with sword-play and shouting, - And he that refuses, we'll raddle his bones: - His bones! - And he that refuses, we'll raddle his bones!" - -{521} - -It was difficult not to smile at his extravagant tones and -gestures. - -"Gently, gently," said St. Joseph to his companions, "or we shall -be misleading him, and doing harm." - -"Oh! never mind, ancient sir," remarked Hoel encouragingly, -though he had not understood what was said. "All quite right--why -shouldn't one? Only, it strikes me, you've no place to lay in a -stock of it at present. Now, our Druids burrow out caves, 'tis -thought, somewhere under their cromlechs--" - -"Listen!" interrupted St. Joseph, laying his hand on the other's -arm. He looked into Hoel's face, and gained his attention in a -moment. "Listen, while I say a thing to you. Bread and wine, the -ordinary food of man in our native land, have been appointed by -him whom we serve, as the materials of that true sacrifice which -he will accept. He requires, and will admit, no other. Animals -were sacrificed to him of old, before he appointed this new and -better way; but now--" - -"You spoke of a lamb," interrupted the peasant, growing rather -sulky, "so I just took the liberty of informing you as we'd none -at your service." - -It was not the moment to pursue such high and mysterious truths -with him any further. But Hoel himself would not be let off, nor -would he let off St. Joseph. Something seemed to be working in -his mind. - -"A lamb is a lamb," persisted he doggedly, though he seemed to -mean no disrespect; "and a sacrifice is a sacrifice; and bread is -bread, I hope; and wine, I'm sure, is wine." - -"All things are what they have been created by God," answered St. -Joseph very gently, "until it is his holy will and pleasure to -change them in any way, or even to change them into other -things." - -Hoel looked at him, but said nothing. His look, though, meant -inquiry, and this St. Joseph perceived. - -"Is not a tree changed into something very different from what it -was before," he went on, "when the warm air of spring breathes -upon it, and the sap rises into it, and it puts forth green buds, -and they swell, and burst, and afterward come leaves and fruit?" - -"True," answered he; and then was silent, thinking. - -"Did you ever see one of the trees down yonder blossom at this -season?" - -For all answer, Hoel laughed, and pointed to the leafless boughs -on the island, and the shores around them. - -"Could the gods whom you worship cause them to do so?" - -"Not one of 'em all," answered he, with a somewhat scornful -gesture. - -"Then, _who_ makes winter pass and spring return; the bud -burst forth, and the fruit ripen?" - -A pause. The poor pagan was not prepared to answer. - -"Now," continued St. Joseph, "my God, the one living and true, -not only has appointed the laws by which seasons come round with -their produce, and the sun rises and sets. He sometimes, -moreover, changes these things, according to his own all-perfect -will, so that the sun stays motionless in the heavens above, and -the tree blooms in mid-winter on the earth below." - -Hoel mused, and mused again, while his eyes wandered from the -speaker to the rest, in whose looks he read confirmation of the -words. Then he turned to take a sweep over the wintry scene that -lay beneath and around. Woods and thickets skirting the slopes of -Sedgemoor, the osiers lining the banks of the Brue, the few -apple-trees that were even then on Iniswytryn--all without sign -of a leaf. - -{522} - -He bent his eyes to the ground, knit his brows, seemed determined -to hear no more, and to believe nothing of what he _had_ -heard. - -Still the gentle, persuasive voice of the saint sounded in his -ears: - -"What is that, friend, you have in your hand?" - -"My shepherd's crook," was the brief and surly answer. - -"And see, my pilgrim-staff, that has aided my steps so far. Yours -was cut from a British sapling, out of your moist soil, I dare -say, no longer ago than last autumn. Mine, under a burning sky, -long years since, in Judea, a land you never heard of. It came -from a thorn-brake that had furnished thorns for a crown of which -you know nothing. Which of these two staves would bud the -quickest, if they were planted side by side?" - -Hoel looked up, pleased to find something he understood. "Mine -would, of course," he grinned out. "'Tis a right slip of -mountain-ash, and would have leaves next spring, if I struck it -into the ground." - -"And what if mine now budded before you could count ten?" - -"You jest with me where I see no jest," exclaimed the countryman, -disposed now to be angry, "or you speak as one of the unwise." - -"There is no jest here," answered St. Joseph with unruffled look. -You say truly. By no power of mine could the seasons alter, or -the effects of them. My Master has said: 'All the days of the -earth, seed-time and harvest, cold and heat, summer and winter, -night and day, shall not cease!' But what if his power and his -will unite to make some wonderful change in all this?" - -"His power is great in the summer," answered Hoel, casting a look -at the declining sun; "but in the winter time he seems further -off, or feebler. He cannot melt the ice, nor draw up the dew, nor -warm my fingers while I stand watching my sheep." - -It was plain he was speaking of his deity, then sinking in the -west, lower every moment. - -"Ah!" said Avitus, "is it even such darkness as this into which -the land is plunged? Would we had pushed on sooner from Gaul!" - -"Courage, brother," whispered Simeon in answer. "There has been -no time lost, Man can do but little, except pray and obey. If he -does these well, he does good all around him. What says the holy -text? 'Well done, good and faithful servant; because thou hast -been _faithful in a little_.'" - -Meanwhile St. Joseph had been in silent prayer. By some -inspiration he felt moved to ask for power to work the first -miracle ever wrought in Britain. Our Lord had promised: "These -signs shall follow them that believe. In my name they shall cast -out devils, they shall speak with new tongues, they shall take up -serpents, and if they shall drink any deadly thing, it shall not -hurt them: they shall lay hands on the sick, and they shall -recover." "Amen, amen, I say to you, he that believeth in me, the -works that I do, he shall do also; and greater than these shall -he do, because I go to the Father. And whatsoever you shall ask -the Father in my name, that will I do; that the Father may be -glorified in the Son." - -And even while St. Joseph prayed, it seemed as if witnesses of -the miracle, and disciples of the truth, were being given him; -for, stealing up the ascent from various directions, knots of the -wild Britons, in threes and fours, converged on the summit of -Weary-All Hill. -{523} -I do not suspect Hoel of treachery, or that he had meant to lead -the foreigners into a snare. It is likely the rude inhabitants -had perceived them from afar as they stood there, their forms -traced on the hill-top against the red sunset sky. But these -new-comers seemed to have no friendly intention. Most of them -held in their hands the rude weapons of ancient British warfare. -The bare arms of some were stained blue with the juice of the -woad; others were tattooed; they had the wild and savage look we -have seen in prints of the Sandwich Islanders. So, with -threatening aspect and gestures, on they came, brandishing their -lances and _celts_, or bronze hatchets, and beginning a sort -of war-cry. - -Yes; the moment was come, and the sovereignty of the true Lord -both over nature and grace was to be manifested in one and the -same moment. - -St. Joseph told his companions how strongly the thought had come -into his mind. It had, indeed, guided much that he had already -said to Hoel. As by one impulse, they all knelt again, and -besought our Lord to remember now his promise; so that the soul -that had remained impervious to his word might see his work. - -St. Joseph then approached the peasant, who by this time was -surrounded by his countrymen. In a mild voice, yet with an -authority not to be resisted, he said: - -"Plant your staff here, upright in the ground." - -Hoel was startled, looked at him, then slowly obeyed. - -The multitude still gathered, their gestures more threatening -every moment. - -"Call now, if you will, on your gods, that the staff may bud and -blossom." - -The peasant turned by a kind of instinct to the setting sun; -clouds were mantling round it; its form was veiled; nothing seen -but a dull and rusty stain of sunset fast paling into twilight. -Hoel shook his head. - -"You will not call on it to hear, to help you?" - -He was answered by a gesture which implied that the power of -Hoel's god was set for that night. - -Then St. Joseph, with another ejaculation of prayer, struck his -thorny staff into the ground beside the other. He made over it -the sign of the cross, saying: - -"By the grace of him who for us men hung on the tree on Calvary, -wearing the thorny crown, I bid thee be as thou wert wont to be -in the bloom of spring!" - -There was still light enough to see how, here and there on the -length of the staff, the shrivelled rind began to swell and to -break, how the green buds shot forth and lengthened into twigs; -how these ramified out again, branch from branch, sucker after -sucker; how the old staff expanded into a shapely trunk of -thorn-tree, crowned with a pollard head of rustling leaves. - -And then through the keen wintry air was wafted such a fragrance -as had never saluted the senses of shepherd, or of dreaming bard, -wandering through the brakes and thickets of leafy May. The -seasons had been reversed at the strong prayer of the just. He -who enabled Josue to command the greater and lesser light in the -firmament, "Move not, O sun, toward Gabaon, nor thou, O moon, -toward the valley of Ajalon," now honored the name of the true -Josue, the Captain of salvation, by the "things that spring up in -the earth," [Footnote 152] which obey their Lord as perfectly as -sun, and moon, and stars. - - [Footnote 152: _Benedicite omnia germinantia in terrâ - Domino_.--Dan. iii. 76.] - -{524} - -What cries of astonishment broke from the rude men who crowded -round! How they came trembling to the feet of St. Joseph; how -they kissed the hem of his robe, and adored him as a god! They -thought he was Baal himself; they shrieked out that the sun had -set in clouds because Baal had come in person to take the place -of his representative. And though St. Joseph and his companions -testified by signs of abhorrence and earnest words how much the -rude impiety disturbed them, yet, "Speaking these things, they -scarce restrained the people from sacrificing to them." [Footnote -153] - - [Footnote 153: Acts xiv. 17.] - -But this reverence, misguided and idolatrous at first, soon found -its true channel, and was directed to the Giver of every best -gift. And so the gospel was preached in Glastonbury, and grew, -and flourished, and breathed out its fragrance like the thorn -itself. - -Then, after nearly fifteen hundred years, came a winter more -killing than any Christmas during which the thorn had bloomed; -and "a famine, not of bread, nor a thirst of water, but of -hearing the word of the Lord." The decree of spoliation went -forth; the royal commissioners, with a warrant from Henry VIII., -thundered at the gates. The choir of Glastonbury, as of numerous -other shrines in England, was desecrated; treasures of literature -in the library and scriptorium were torn in shreds and scattered -to the winds, with the relics of innumerable saints. The abbot, -and two of his brethren, were drawn on a hurdle to the Tor, and -martyred on its summit; the community dispersed, and the ruins, -covering many acres, were given over to strangers, as a stable -for their cattle. - -But this was long after St. Joseph and his companions had been -gathered to the saints. - -------------- - - The Sun. [Footnote 154] - - [Footnote 154: This lecture was delivered by M. Secchi to the - scholars of the school of Saint Genevieve, on the 28th of - July last, at a scientific _soirée_, presided over by - Mgr. Chigi. It occupied two hours in the delivery, during the - whole of which time the lecturer held captive the attention - of his distinguished audience, who testified their - appreciation of its scientific and literary merits by warm - applause. The lecture will speak for itself. But in - publishing it, there is one thing which cannot be reproduced; - that is, the deep interest which necessarily attaches to the - hearing a learned man himself explain his experiments and his - discoveries. A number of figures were necessary for the - illustration of certain parts of the lecture; and these, - prepared from M. Secchi's designs by M. Duboscq, optician, - were projected on a screen, by the aid of the electric light, - thus enabling the spectators to follow the learned astronomer - with greater ease. Of these designs, etc., only the most - essential have been given in the published lecture.] - - -Gentlemen: From the beginning of my stay in Paris, I was invited -by persons to whom I owe great deference to lecture to you on -some of the subjects which are studied at the Observatory of the -Roman College. This invitation I felt to be in the nature of a -command, which I would readily have obeyed long before, had I not -been prevented by numerous and incessant cares. I cannot, -however, leave France without discharging the debt; and it is for -this purpose that we have met together, on the present occasion. -I propose to speak to you of the sun, and to show you what -science teaches us of its physical constitution. -{525} -For eighteen years I have studied the sun, and observed all that -passes over its surface. I hope, also, to interest you in -acquainting you not only with the fruit of my own labors, but -also with the discoveries of my learned contemporaries. - -What is the sun? Such is the question which has been frequently -asked me. I confess it has always perplexed me to reply to it. I -should not be pardoned, perhaps, if I should say I know nothing -of the matter; nevertheless, it is impossible for me to give a -complete and satisfactory answer. You yourselves have addressed -this question to me with an eagerness which I appreciate as a -particular honor; and, in responding to your desire, I am going -to place before you the very interesting results which we have -obtained in the study of this luminary, to which, after God, its -creator, we owe all the physical blessings we enjoy here below. - -To deal with this vast subject in something like an orderly form, -let us speak first of the new means of observation with which -modern science has furnished us; after which we shall see what -advantage we have derived from them, and in what way they have -served to make us better acquainted with the sun. - -Astronomers, gentlemen, are not privileged beings. Like simple -mortals, they are dazzled by the sun. Far from sharing the -penetrating sight which poets accord to the eagle, they cannot -fix their gaze on the bright orb of day without exposing their -eyes to the greatest danger; and this danger becomes more serious -if they employ their instruments for this purpose without taking -proper precautions. Until recently, two means have been employed -to protect the eyes of the observer: first, the reduction of the -objective aperture of the glasses; and second, providing -strongly-colored glasses. These two expedients present the most -serious inconveniences. The first deprives the observer of the -advantages which he would gain from the large apertures, and the -confusion of the image is greatly augmented by the diffraction -which the small diaphragms cause the light to undergo; while the -second will not permit of our distinguishing the different colors -which may meet in the sun; and on this account the observer is -liable to fall into very grievous errors. The means now in use -effectually obviate this double inconvenience, inasmuch as they -allow of the use of the entire aperture of the glasses, and leave -to the different parts of the sun their natural color. The first -means consists of the employment of the reflective glass. A -rectangular prism of crystal is disposed in such a manner as that -its hypothenuse has an inclination of 45 degrees on the axis of -the glass. The light, on reaching the surface, divides itself -into two very unequal parts. The reflected rays are rather -feeble, but of sufficient brightness to make them pass through a -glass faintly colored, falling perpendicularly on one of the -faces of the prism, without reaching the eye of the observer. The -colored glass, not having to sustain so high a temperature, is -not so liable to break, as often happened in the old method. - -If the colored glass is completely done away with, we shall -succeed by adopting a method which rests on the properties of -polarized light. When the light is reflected by a glass mirror -under an angle of 35 degrees 25 minutes, it undergoes a -modification which is called polarization. If the rays thus -polarized are received on a second glass mirror under the same -inclination of 35 degrees 25 minutes, they will divide into two -parts, one part of which will traverse the glass, and the other -will undergo a second reflection. -{526} -The quantity of light reflected by the second mirror will depend -on the relative position of the two surfaces of reflection. It -will be at the maximum if these surfaces are parallel, but -otherwise if they are perpendicular; so that, by varying the -relative position of the two mirrors to each other, we may either -augment or diminish gradually the intensity of the reflected -rays. Such is the property of the polarized light, which is -utilized for making observations of the sun. To the eye-glass of -the instrument are fixed two smooth mirrors, so adjusted as to -make to the direction which the light follows an angle equal to -the angle of polarization. One of these mirrors can turn round to -the reflected rays. Then, by putting the surface of the second -almost perpendicular to that of the first, we can observe the sun -as easily as we can the moon, seeing it in its natural color, and -we can regulate at will the intensity of the light. It is to this -new arrangement of the eye-glasses that we owe the greater part -of the discoveries of which I am about to speak to you. I ought -to add, however, that in the astronomical glasses we employ not -only two, but three and even four, of these reflections. - -But to come to the consideration of the sun. Everybody knows that -it has spots; that these spots, relatively very small, are of a -black color, and also, that they adhere to the body of the sun. -They move in a manner leading us to the conclusion that this -luminary turns on its own axis in the space of twenty-five and a -quarter days, and that its equator has an inclination of seven -degrees and a half on the ecliptic. These spots are far from -being constant. They undergo, on the contrary, the greatest -changes both of form and size. They show themselves particularly -in some zones, and appear and disappear at very irregular -periods. The maximum and the minimum are reproduced at intervals -of about eleven years. One of the most curious discoveries of our -times is, that this periodicity of the solar spots has some -correspondence with terrestrial magnetism. It is impossible to -discover the point at which the two classes of phenomena unite, -but the existence of the fact is incontestable. Thus, we have -just seen the spots pass through the minimum. From September, -1866, to March, 1867, there were scarcely any of them; and during -the same period the magnetic perturbations have been very feeble. -As soon as the existence of these spots had been fully -ascertained, the questions naturally arose, What is the cause of -them, and what their nature? On these points there have been -numerous opinions, all as diverse as possible. This is not to be -wondered at; for hitherto there has been no correct observation -from which could be learned the character and the particulars of -the phenomena we desire to explain. So, without stopping to -discuss ancient theories, I am about to bring before you the -latest observations, and the conclusions at which we have -arrived. The drawings of the first observers represent the spots -as formed with a black centre surrounded by a gray tint of a -uniform figure, which is called penumbra. It is not surprising -that, with such imperfect means of observation, the theory of the -spots should remain so long uncertain, and that these phenomena -should have been taken for simple clouds floating in the solar -atmosphere. This theory, which was put forth by Galileo, has been -revived in our day. The solar spots have an aspect completely -different from that which we see in the ancient cuts. -{527} -I am going to show the drawing of several of them as observed at -the Roman College. I designed them myself, by a very rapid -process, such a process being very important for objects -essentially variable, and which change their form with great -rapidity, and in a short space of time. Here is, first, one of -the most common forms. (Figure 1.) It is a round spot, consisting -of a black centre, around which is a penumbra all ragged. The -first thing you wall observe is, that the figure of the penumbra -is far from being uniform. It is composed of filaments, very long -and very thin, which converge toward the centre. These have been -called wisps of straw, willow-leaves, etc. I prefer to call them -currents, being aware, at the same time, that it is impossible to -compare them to any known thing. They are more scattered near the -outline of the penumbra, and they become condensed near the -centre, where the light is stronger and brighter. These luminous -threads start from the outline of the spot, traverse the -penumbra, and often run into the black space that forms the -centre, where we see them floating singly, gradually becoming -smaller, and disappearing after a while. - -The penumbra is not always composed exclusively of threads like -those you see. The centre is often surrounded by a uniform pale -color, over which the currents are disseminated. These currents -are not always continuous, and their different parts present an -appearance which may be compared to elongated grains. - -In spite of the increased power of the instruments we employ to -observe the sun, the detached parts of the spots often appear to -us as microscopic objects. In order to form an exact idea of -their real dimensions, we must always remember that, at this -distance, four fifths of a second is equal to 140 kilometres, and -consequently these apparent threads, whose seeming width is at -most not more than one or two seconds, are in reality immense -currents, being, about the middle, of 600 or 700 kilometres in -width, while their length is at least equal to the diameter of -the terrestrial globe. - -The drawings which you have just seen represent some of these -spots in their complete form and exactly defined. But they -present themselves oftener under fantastic and irregular forms. -They are sometimes accompanied by a kind of tail, itself formed -of black spots, and which seems to follow the centre in its -motion. -{528} -We have here a curious example. The centre is not quite black; we -meet with shadows there--some gray, and others red; the filaments -on all sides fall toward the centre, and their edges are turned -back and bent, as if they had experienced some resistance, or as -if they had encountered a whirlwind. Here is a spot of this kind, -(Figure 2,) the details of which are most instructive, and most -important in a theoretical point of view. We find the centre -divided in several parts by the luminous threads. This appearance -was remarked by the ancient astronomers, who explained it by -supposing that on the surface of the sun solid crusts were -formed, which broke into shivers like glass under a blow from a -stone. Modern observations, however, do not admit of this -explanation. They show us clearly that these divisions are -produced by currents which, leaving opposite edges, meet in the -middle of the centre, and thus divide the spot into several -parts. - -The formation of a spot is never instantaneous. It is ordinarily -announced by the appearance of several black points, and by a -kind of diminution in the thickness of the luminous bed. These -little cavities multiply themselves; one of them develops itself, -absorbing the others, and the process ends in the formation of a -black spot in the centre. In this first phase the movements of -the spots are very irregular, and their advance is always to the -front, by reason of the solar rotation. - -The drawing which is now before you represents the first -appearance of a great spot which was formed almost suddenly on -the 30th of July, 1865. The day preceding that of its appearance, -in observing the sun as usual, we had remarked only three little -cavities, of which we noted the position. On the 30th of July, at -mid-day, we found in the place of these cavities an enormous -spot, the surface of which was equal to at least ten times the -size of our globe. It was so mobile, and its form changed so -constantly, that we could scarcely draw it. We could discover in -it four principal centres, where the movement of the matter was -visible in the form of a whirlwind. In an interval of 24 hours it -had undergone some considerable changes. On the 31st of July, the -four centres were completely distinct, and the matter which -separated them seemed as if it were stretched out. -{529} -During the days which followed, this form became more and more -marked. Soon there were four spots clearly defined, which -ultimately assumed the form of four independent craters or -cavities. In the interior of these craters we perceived some -light shadows, whose form reminded us of that of the clouds we -call cirrus. Their color was different from that of the other -part of the sun which presented itself to view. As the -polariscopic eye-glass does not change the color of objects, we -are enabled to see that these clouds are often of a very decided -red; and, as this tint is clear and well marked, it is impossible -to confound it with the effects due to the achromatism of the -instruments. You see here a great number of spots presenting this -appearance, and especially in Figure 2, where the red shadows -seem intertwined with the white shadows. I have more than once -seen these luminous tongues, so to speak, transform themselves -into red veils. - -This hasty view is, however, so complete as to convince us that -the spots cannot be compared to clouds, their aspect not -warranting such a comparison. If any part of them may be compared -to clouds, it is more the luminous matter; for we see it -precipitate itself in the obscure space, and there dissolve in -much the same way as we see the vapor which forms the mist -dissolve into thin air. All that we are required to believe is, -that these apparently black masses are but rents made in the -luminous veil which covers the solar body, and to which we give -the name of photosphere. It is this bed which transmits light and -heat to us. It is suspended in the solar atmosphere, just as -clouds in the terrestrial atmosphere. What appear to us as spots -in the sun is simply the effect of the rents which take place in -it. We are confirmed in this view by the well-ascertained fact -that the spots are depressions in the solar body, and that they -have the form of a funnel. This form becomes very perceptible, -when the spots are drawn by the rotary movement toward the solar -disk. When we examine a spot situated toward the centre of the -sun, we find that the shape of the penumbra is more regular. But -when the spot moves toward the edge, we see the penumbra diminish -on the side of the centre, and increase on the opposite side, in -which case it presents the appearance of a cavity in the form of -a funnel looked at obliquely. -{530} -This effect is very clearly indicated in the drawing (Figure 3) -which you have now before you, and for which we are indebted to -M. Tacchini, the astronomer, of Palermo. We have observed this -same spot at Rome, and we have made a drawing of it similar to -that you now see; but I would rather exhibit that of M. Tacchini, -because it cannot be objected that it was made under the -influence of a preconceived idea. You see that in this spot the -edge of the aperture is raised much in the same way as in the -craters of the moon, and around these apertures are elevations, -clearer and more luminous, which we call faculas. - -The conclusions which I have just presented to you are also those -to which M. Faye arrived, in studying the apparent perturbations -in the movements of the spots. In short, what settles the -question definitively is the study of the spots of exceptional -grandeur when they reach the edge of the solar disk. It is then -very easy to prove that the centre is lower than that part of the -outline from which radiates the facule. Both M. Tacchini and I -proved this at Rome, in studying the grand spot of July, 1865, at -the moment in which it disappeared behind the disk of the sun. - -The spots, then, are apertures, rents made in the photosphere. -But how is it that these spaces do not fill up immediately? This -is a serious difficulty, and it leads us to study the structure -of the photosphere. If the photosphere was solid, all the -movements which take place in it would be impossible. It is, -then, fluid. But, on the other hand, a fluid would naturally -spread itself until all points of the surface were on the same -level, and it would require very little time to fill a gap having -the dimensions of even the largest of the spots. The celebrated -William Herschel saw this difficulty, and he met it by a solution -which we still adopt, because it has been confirmed by -observations and discoveries; so that what to Herschel was but a -conjecture has become to us a demonstrated truth. The -photospheric matter is like our clouds, gauze-like and -transparent as ours. We often see among the clouds differences of -level--disruptions which enable us to perceive the blue of the -sky in the space which separates them. The same thing happens in -the sun; and this hypothesis, which is so useful in explaining -the phenomena I have just set before you, accords perfectly with -all the particulars observed. - -We have seen, in effect, the luminous matter remain suspended and -floating in the midst of the centre, and the photospheric -currents melt in obscure parts, just as our clouds dissolve, -apparently dispersing themselves in a space completely deprived -of vapor, when the temperature is sufficiently elevated. The -little white veil in Figure 1 is a cloud about to be dissolved. -Without this dissolving force, the matter which radiates from the -circumference to the centre would not be long in filling up this -gap. As I told you just now, we have been able to seize the fact -of this dissolution of the solar atmospheric matter, and to see -these cloud-like forms change into red veils occupying a large -surface in the centre. - -One thing alone remains to be proved--the existence of a -transparent atmosphere. We have for a long time presumed its -presence and its action to explain a well-established fact, -namely, that the edges of the sun impart to us less of heat and -light than the centre. This fact, inexplicable by any known laws -of radiation, is easily explained by the action of an absorbing -atmosphere; for the rays part at the edge before passing through -a thicker atmospheric stratum, proving necessarily an absorption -more considerable than that which flows to the centre. -{531} -The existence of a solar atmosphere, which was formerly regarded -as probable, has been reduced to certainty by the observation of -eclipses, and it has been shown that veritable clouds float in -this gauze-like bed. - -Everybody has heard of the magnificent aureola which surrounds -the moon during the total eclipse of the sun. It is a truly -solemn moment when, the last rays having just disappeared, we see -the shadow of the moon projected on a sky of leaden hue, with a -perfectly black disk surrounded by a magnificent luminous glory, -like that which we see represented around the heads of the -saints. This aureola, at least the part nearest the disk, is -owing to the atmosphere of the sun. This spectacle is -magnificent, but it becomes much more instructive when we examine -it through a good telescope. We then perceive around the disk of -the moon gigantic flames, of a lively red, the height of which is -incomparably greater than the diameter of the earth. Some are -suspended without any support, and others take a horizontal -direction, like the smoke that comes out of our chimneys. These -flames were designated protuberances; but we knew not how to -explain them. It was even doubted whether they were real; and we -were quite disposed to attribute them to an optical illusion. -These doubts have disappeared since the observations we made in -Spain during the eclipse of 1860. On that occasion we were -stationed at Desertio de las Palmas, on the coast of the -Mediterranean, while M. De la Rue took up his post at Riva -Bellosa, at a short distance from the ocean. We succeeded at both -these stations in photographing the sun at the period of the -total eclipse, and a comparison of the two photographs has proved -that the protuberances have a real existence, that they have a -form so fixed as to give identical images at two points distant -from each other by several hundreds of kilometres. The perfect -resemblance of the two photographs is the more remarkable, from -their not having been executed at the same moment. Between the -two operations an interval of ten minutes elapsed. These -protuberances, considering their distance and their bent forms, -can be nothing but clouds suspended in the solar atmosphere, and -it is these which form the red veils that we have seen in the -centre. The observation of eclipses proves to us conclusively -that the sun is really surrounded by a stratum of this red -matter, which we ordinarily see only on the most elevated -summits. - -In the photograph taken at Desertio de las Palmas during the -total eclipse, the exterior form of the atmosphere is perfectly -visible. We see that it is more extended at the equator than at -the polar regions, which is a natural effect arising from the -movement of rotation which the sun possesses. We see, in short, -that this atmosphere is livelier in its action in the two zones -on each side of the equator, in which the spots ordinarily show -themselves. The existence of a solar atmosphere being perfectly -in accordance with all known principles and with all ascertained -facts, there is no longer any room for calling it in question. We -describe the sun, then, as surrounded by a dense atmosphere in -which floats the photospheric matter. The surface of the -photosphere is far from being uniform and regular. It is, on the -contrary, wrinkled all over, and again covered with granulations. -These granulations, first perceived by Herschel, have been -carefully studied in later times. - -{532} - -When our atmosphere is calm and the observation very precise, the -whole bottom of the solar disk appears covered with small -luminous grains, separated by a very fine and very dark net-work, -resembling in appearance partially desiccated milk, examined -through a microscope. These points, or white grains, are of -different sizes. Where there are openings, we see around each of -them some lines of grains in the form of leaves, more or less -oval. Their mean dimension is about the third of a second. These -grains are only the upper part of the flame which inclines toward -the openings, thus proving that there is a very sensible power of -attraction in the apertures. We may even say that these -granulations resemble the appearance which the clouds known as -cumuli present when, from the summit of a mountain, their upper -part is examined. The largest spots would be, then, but an -exaggeration of this net-work, ordinarily so fine, produced by -the force which caused the flame, or rather, the stratum of the -cumulus. - -But what is it that produces these spots in the sun? Here the -difficulty is singularly complicated. To reply satisfactorily to -this question, it would be necessary to become acquainted with -what passes in the interior of the solar globe. But let us, -without hesitation, and without attempting to delude ourselves, -confess that our study of the sun is confined to its external -stratum, and to the most striking phenomena of which it is the -seat; whereas, with regard to the interior mass, it is only by -the process of induction that we are enabled to arrive at any -knowledge. - -Observations which we have just made lead us to the conclusion -that the spots are owing to emanations issuing from the solar -body, almost similar to the way in which matter is ejected by our -volcanoes. This is proved both by the form of the craters, which -you have just seen, and by the columns of clouds, analogous to -those arising out of volcanoes, or out of chimneys, observed -during eclipses. Here, then, is how we explain the constitution -of the photosphere and the formation of the spots. The exterior -stratum cools itself constantly by radiation, passes into the -gauze-like state, or state of vapor, and ends by precipitating -itself in the liquid state, or even in the solid, remaining, -however, suspended in the solar atmosphere, as clouds do in ours. -It is this condensed matter that forms the photosphere, and it is -from that principally we receive light and heat. From some cause -or other, a movement from below takes place in the gauze-like -mass which is situated underneath. By this movement the -photospheric stratum, raised at first, spreads itself on all -sides, forming a sort of cushion, and ends by separating itself, -leaving a wide opening in the form of a crater. While the -volcanic emission lasts, the spot remains open, and it disappears -only at the moment when the equilibrium is reestablished, by the -luminous matter filling up the void which was formed. If this -theory is correct, the circumference of the spots ought to form -the mountains above the exterior surface. Now, we have just seen -that the outline of the spots is always surrounded by faculae, -which constitute prominent elevations. Supposing it is true that -the interior mass is the seat of violent action, this conclusion -has nothing surprising in it, and we are led to it by a certain -number of other phenomena equally remarkable. -{533} -Thus, every time that a spot is produced, we remark that it is -visibly projected with a quickness greater than that of the solar -rotation. The projecting mass is then animated with a quickness -greater than the surface of the photosphere; and, in order to -explain this fact, we must admit that the matter of the interior -stratum possesses a quickness greater than the superficial part. - -This novel conclusion is supported by another fact. We know now -that the rotation of the spots has not the same angular quickness -under all the parallels. The quickness is sensibly greater in the -equatorial zone than in the higher latitudes. This circumstance -forces us to the conclusion that the sun is not a solid globe, -but that its structure admits of the different strata of which it -is formed having a movement of rotation independent of each other -as regards velocity. In fact, the only explanation we can give of -this difference of quickness is, that the interior mass is fluid, -and that it is moved by a rotary process, more rapid than that of -the external surface. We cannot, however, undertake the formal -demonstration of this point on the present occasion. - -This fluidity of the sun is calculated to surprise you; but you -will cease to regard it as incredible when I remind you of -certain ascertained facts about this luminary. The gravity of its -surface is twenty-eight times greater than that of the surface of -our globe, from which results an enormous pressure capable of -condensing a large number of substances, or, at least, of -singularly diminishing their volume. Looking simply at this fact, -the mean density of the sun ought to be much greater than that of -the earth. It is nothing of the kind, however, but just the -contrary; for the specific gravity of the terrestrial globe is -four times greater than that of the solar mass. We must admit the -existence of a repulsive force capable of overcoming the -molecular attraction, and of rarefying the substances which the -weight tends to condense. This repulsive force is probably owing -to the heat, and, in fact, the temperature of the sun is -estimated at not less than five millions of degrees. At this -temperature no matter could remain solid, even in spite of the -enormous pressure of which we have already spoken. It is, then, -impossible for us to admit the existence of a solid mass, and -much more that of a cold centre in the interior of the sun. - -And here an objection presents itself to which I ought to reply. -If the interior mass of the sun is at a temperature so very -elevated, how is it that, when the photosphere opens, a black -spot is presented to our eyes? In examining this opening, we -perceive a substance of which the temperature is extremely -elevated, and which ought, consequently, to be very luminous. How -is it, then, that, on the contrary, it presents to us the -appearance of a very deep black? My reply is, that the black -color of the spots is a purely relative matter; that it is owing -to the contrast of the brilliant light which comes to us from the -photosphere. If we could see those apparently dark parts away -from the glittering mass of the sun, they would appear not only -luminous, but dazzling with light. - -But you will say to me, it still remains true that the interior -mass of the sun is less luminous than the photosphere; but since -the superficial part constantly cools by radiation, it follows -that there ought to be less heat, and, consequently, less -brilliancy in the photosphere than in the interior mass. -{534} -With your permission, I will make a reply to this which might, at -the first blush, appear paradoxical, but which is, nevertheless, -the expression of truth. It is precisely because it is of so very -high a temperature that the interior mass of the sun sends us a -less degree of light and heat; it is precisely because it is -cooled at the point of condensation, to precipitate itself in the -liquid or solid state, that the photospheric matter becomes -hotter and more luminous. To make this plain, we have only to -recall certain well-known principles of physics. Two bodies -equally hot may not emit the same quantity of heat. One of them -may cool itself rapidly in heating the bodies which surround it; -while the other may let its heat escape only very slowly, and -heat but feebly the neighboring bodies. In this case, we say that -the first has a more considerable radiating power. Now, -philosophers know that gas has a very feeble radiating power, and -that it may be consequently at a very high temperature without -emitting around it a great quantity of light and heat. You have -an illustration now before your eyes. This lamp, fed by lighted -gas, gives a very brilliant flame, because the carbon remains -there some time in suspension before burning. Let us throw into -the flame a little oxygen; immediately the flame pales, becomes -bluish, and ceases to be luminous. Its temperature, -notwithstanding, has greatly increased, and it is now the -celebrated gas by the aid of which M. Sainte-Claire Deville melts -his platina so rapidly. The change results from the very rapid -combustion of the carbon by the oxygen. As soon as this takes -place, the flame, no longer containing any solid body, loses -almost all power of emission, and ceases, in spite of its high -temperature, to have the brilliancy which it possessed at a lower -temperature. To convince you perfectly, let us put a solid body -in this flame, now so pale, and you will see it become more -brilliant than ever. We introduce, for example, a piece of lime, -and the apartment is at once illuminated by the Drummond light, -one of the most brilliant of our artificial lights. - -But, leaving the earth, let us now return to the sun. The -interior mass is undoubtedly at a very high temperature--so high, -indeed, that all the substances composing it must be in the state -of gas, possessing only a feeble radiating power; while the -photosphere is composed of matter precipitated in a liquid or -solid state, of which the radiating power must be considerable. -Here is the explanation of what seemed paradoxical in my answer. -The hottest part of the sun is not the part which warms and -lights us most, because, being in the state of gas, it produces -only a feeble radiation. - -Two questions now present themselves. How is it that the sun -preserves indefinitely so elevated a temperature in spite of the -enormous amount of heat which it loses daily? Of what kind of -matter is this luminary composed? And what the nature of the -radiation which sends to us daily the light and heat which we -need? It is undoubtedly impossible to give a complete and -satisfactory answer to these questions. We may yet be able, -however, to do so; and we are persuaded that science in its -progress will only confirm and develop the explanations which we -give to-day of first principles. In the first place, it is -impossible to admit that the sun is simply a luminous globe, not -possessing any means of renewing the heat which it loses at every -moment; for, in that case, at the end of a few years its -temperature would be lowered in a very appreciable manner; and it -would not require an age to effect a complete change in the -phenomena which are dependent on it. There must be, then, a -source of heat in the sun. - -{535} - -We are in the habit of comparing things we do not know with those -with which we are familiar. Thus we have been led to think of the -solar globe as the seat of a combustion similar to that we -witness on our hearths. This idea is deceptive. - -We know the quantity of heat which each substance throws off in a -state of combustion; we know, too, what a vast body the sun is; -and we are able to calculate with a rough but sufficient -approximation the quantity of heat which the body of the sun -would produce in burning. The result of this calculation is, -that, at the elevated temperature which the sun possesses, the -combustion of the solar mass could not be kept up during many -ages. Since the historic period this temperature would have been -so lowered as to produce a change in the seasons that has not -taken place. We are compelled, then, to abandon the idea of a -mass in combustion, as well as that of a luminous globe, and to -acknowledge that there is a secret which has escaped us. - -This secret, gentlemen, chemistry is charged to unveil to us. -Astronomers profit eagerly by all the discoveries which physical -science makes, and it is by this means alone that they arrive -first at conjecture, and afterward at a knowledge of what is -taking place at prodigious distances. It is thus that the -phenomenon of dissociation recently discovered by M. -Sainte-Claire Deville, puts us in the way of explaining the -permanence of the solar temperature. We know that no combination -can resist heat. Whatever may be the stability of the -combination, whatever energy the affinitive force may possess, if -the temperature is raised to the proper degree, the elements -separate, and remain together simply in a mixed state, wanting to -combine anew when the temperature is lowered. This is what we -call dissociation; and this is just the state, for example, in -which we find oxygen and hydrogen gas, exposed to a temperature -of 2500 degrees. At such a temperature they remain in a mixed -state, without being able to form water, which ought to result -from the combination of these two elements. But the phenomenon of -dissociation cannot take place without the intervention of an -enormous amount of heat. To illustrate this, let us suppose a -kilogram of ice at zero. In liquefying it would absorb 79 degrees -of heat; to make it warm, 100 degrees would be required; in -evaporation it would absorb 640; and to dissociate it, 3955, or -nearly 4000 degrees would be necessary. What we say of water is -equally true of all the combinations; all that is required being -to change the numerical degrees of the latent heat, for fusion, -for volatilization, and for dissociation. This being so, we -arrive at the conclusion that even the least considerable -quantity of matter in a state of dissociation may be regarded as -a magazine of latent heat continually tending toward sensible -development. - -The temperature of dissociation of water is almost 2500 degrees. -The temperature of the sun being at least five millions of -degrees, the whole mass of which it is composed ought to be in a -state of dissociation, and to contain consequently an enormous -quantity of latent heat independent of the sensible heat; to -which is owing this prodigiously elevated temperature. -{536} -What, then, is the effect which the solar matter ought to produce -on the radiation of which it is the seat? Almost the same effect -that radiation produces on a liquid body which has reached a -temperature of solidification. The heat necessary to keep up the -radiation is borrowed from that part of the liquid which -solidifies, so that the temperature, instead of decreasing, -remains constantly at the point at which solidification ceases. -This is really what passes on the surface of the sun. This -brilliant mass, raised to a temperature of five millions of -degrees, has a tendency to cool itself rapidly. The radiation -produces, in fact, a coolness in the superficial stratum. By -reason of this coolness, part of the gas which composes the -atmosphere is lowered below the temperature of dissociation; it -yields then an enormous quantity of heat, which from latent -becomes sensible, and prevents also an ulterior lowering of -temperature. It is sufficient to repair the continual loss of -heat that a mass of several kilograms passes daily from a state -of dissociation to one of combination; and it is evident, -considering the enormous size of the solar globe, that things may -remain in this state during millions of ages without the -temperature of the sun changing in a manner which may be felt by -us. I say, by us, for our knowledge of this temperature is -obtained at no less a distance than several hundred thousands of -degrees. - -It appears, then, from the very nature of the sun, that it does -not possess an inexhaustible quantity of latent heat. A day will -come when it will no more be able to lose heat without being -cooled in a sensible manner, but that cooling will not take place -before a very distant period, and long after we have disappeared -from this world. - -By way of recapitulation of the several views we have set forth, -let us endeavor to give you a precise idea of the sun, as regards -both its interior and its surface. The reasonings which we have -just advanced, founded partly on astronomical observations and -partly on known principles of science, lead us to regard the sun -as composed of a fluid or gauze-like mass, surrounded with a -photospheric stratum, the matter of which has passed through the -first stage of condensation. According to the views held by -Laplace, the sun proceeded from the hands of its creator in a -nebulous state. We are led to believe that the interior mass is -still in this state. A change has taken place only on the -surface, because there only could the loss of heat owing to -radiation produce a partial cooling. The result of this cooling -is the condensation of a relatively small quantity of matter, -which, possessing a very considerable power of emission, forms -the photosphere. It is in the presence of this photosphere that -the only difference exists between the sun and a nebula, between -the myriads of stars which people the heavens, and the nebulae -with whose existence the telescope makes us acquainted. - -We come, at length, to the last with which we proposed to deal: -What is the constituent matter of the sun? What are the elements -which enter into the composition of its atmosphere and of the -photospheric bed? Some years ago, to put a question like this -would have been regarded as rashness; to attempt to answer it, -the height of folly. We only knew, from the analysis of meteoric -stones, that cosmical matter did not contain any other elements -besides those of which our globe is composed. But to-day we can -go further, thanks to the discoveries of the German Kirchoff. - -{537} - -We all know the solar phantom, and the brilliant colors which -result from the decomposition of the white light. This phantom -seems continuous if we make the observations in a rough manner; -but if we employ delicate means, we see that it is formed of a -multitude of black streaks and of brilliant rays perfectly -distinct from each other. It is impossible to imitate this -appearance artificially. All that we are able to do is to project -on a screen the figure of a solar appearance taken from a -drawing. You see that it is furrowed over with a considerable -number of black streaks, of which the principal ones are, -according to Fraunhofer, who discovered them, indicated by the -letters of the alphabet, A, B, C, etc. These streaks are -extremely numerous: we have counted no fewer than 45,000 of them. - -I have said that it is impossible for us to imitate this -appearance with our artificial lights, and it is precisely here -that we are able to discern the nature of the different sources -of light. In fact, each source has an appearance peculiar to -itself, and by which it is characterized. The brilliant line of -the Drummond light gives a continuous appearance, and it is the -same with all the simple incandescents. But when we analyze the -light of a body in combustion, we arrive at an entirely different -result. The appearance obtained in this case is crossed by rays -which, instead of being black, are, on the contrary, more -brilliant than the colors in the midst of which they are formed. -The same thing happens when we make the rays emanating from the -electric light pass through a prism, because in this case there -is combustion, that is to say, a combination of the oxygen in -charcoals, mixed with foreign matter, from which is produced the -voltaic bow. If we are content to restore these burning coals, -they will give a continuous appearance just as lime. - -The brilliant spectral rays are not always the same. They depend -on the nature of the metal which is found in the flame, and which -takes part in the combustion. You see at this moment the -appearance which silver presents: it is characterized by a -magnificent green ray. Here is now the appearance of copper, -which, we know, has a yellow ray, accompanied by a fine group of -green rays, different from those which silver produces. We now -burn some zinc, which gives a magnificent group of blue rays, a -fine red ray, and another of violet. Finally, we shall close -these experiments with burning brass, which is, as you are aware, -a mixture of copper and zinc. You will recognize in the -appearance which is produced the characteristic rays of those -metals, each of them producing its proper effect, as if it were -alone. - -We learn but little, however, from these experiments, of the -nature of the substances of which the sun is composed; for the -rays which we have produced are all brilliant, while those of the -solar appearance are black. Let us see, then, in pursuing this -subject, if it would not be possible for us to obtain these black -lines with our artificial lights. Let us produce, in analyzing -the Drummond light, a perfectly continuous appearance. Now, let -us make this appearance, before reaching the screen, pass through -a deep layer of hypoazotic acid. Immediately you see it -discontinued. It is like the solar appearance, crossed over by a -multitude of black lines. The hypoazotic acid is not the only gas -that produces this result. The vapor from brome, that of iodine, -will give equally the black lines in the same circumstances, only -these lines are different from those we have just seen in the -experiment made with the hypoazotic acid. -{538} -Thus, the gases, the vapors, possessing the property of absorbing -certain luminous rays, certain colors, these rays, found no -longer in the appearance, are necessarily replaced by the black -lines we have just observed. All the gases, all the vapors, could -not, I am convinced, produce this result; for it is clear that -their power of absorption, being less considerable, could not -make itself felt, unless by means of a stratum the thickness of -which should be greater than that which we are able to use in our -experiments. We find a proof of this in what passes in the -atmospheric air. Under a feeble thickness no sensible absorption -is produced; but it is certain that the atmospheric mass absorbs -a great number of rays, and consequently gives birth to many -black lines; for in the solar appearance we observe new and very -marked lines, when the sun being near the horizon, his rays pass -through a bed of air of very considerable thickness. These rays -are principally owing to the vapor of water. We can equally -affirm the absorbent power of the atmosphere which surrounds the -planets Saturn, Jupiter, and Mars. Their appearances contain -lines very different from the solar appearance. Yet, as the light -which they transmit to us comes to them from the sun, we are -forced to conclude that that light undergoes some modification in -travelling over its transparent path. It is the atmosphere of the -planets which produces this result. - -The sun also possesses an atmosphere, as we have seen, and this -atmosphere ought necessarily to exercise an influence on the rays -which traverse it. Such is, in fact, the origin of the rays which -we notice in the solar appearance. They are owing to the -atmospheric absorption, and the bed of transparent but absorbent -vapor which surrounds the atmosphere, and which the rays pass -through before they spread themselves in space. - -But how are we to ascertain the nature of the vapors which -produce the black lines we observe? Here physical science comes -again to our aid, and the question we have just put finds its -answer in a recent discovery. We have seen that a certain -substance in burning gives birth to certain luminous rays which -characterize it. We have also seen that this same substance, in a -state of vapor, absorbs, on the contrary, certain rays, and -produces in consequence certain black lines which are equally -characteristic. Now, by a singular coincidence, these two powers, -emissive and absorbent, are identically the same. Each substance, -in a state of vapor, absorbs precisely the rays which it is -capable of producing in combustion, so that the black streaks -produced in the first case occupy identically the same place as -the brilliant lines observed in the second. We may demonstrate -this interesting theory by the following experiment, due to M. -Toucault. We know that sodium produces in burning a beautiful -yellow light. Well, let us burn some sodium in the coals, and -between these two substances the electric light is produced. The -metal while it is burning volatilizes largely; the vapors which -are produced absorb precisely the rays which they should have -emitted in their combustion; and you see that in the yellow, -instead of a brilliant line, we have a very dark line. What we -have just seen take place with the sodium has been equally proved -by experiments on a great number of metals, and, by induction, we -may extend the application to all those on which it has been -impossible to make experiments. - -{539} - -Let us apply this principle to what concerns the light of the -sun. The photosphere is composed of condensed substances, -precipitated in a solid or a liquid state, floating in a -transparent and absorbent atmosphere. This matter, being simply -incandescent, ought to present to us a continuous appearance, and -this continuity can be disturbed only by the absorption of the -solar atmosphere. From this it follows, that to ascertain the -chemical nature of the substances which compose this atmosphere, -it will be sufficient to compare the black lines of the sun with -the bright lines of our artificial lights. This has been done. M. -Kirchoff first discovered that the sun contains sodium; for the -line D of Fraunhofer coincides perfectly with the brilliant lines -of this metal. It is equally well known that iron, copper, and -twenty other substances which exist upon the earth in a solid -state, would, at a temperature of five millions of degrees, be -necessarily in a state of vapor. - -After having thus made a chemical analysis of the sun, -astronomers wish to go further; they have sought to know equally -the composition of the stars. We have been led by this to some -very remarkable consequences; we have been able to make a kind of -classification of these stars, and to determine the group to -which our sun belongs. It remains, then, for us now to apply the -spectral analysis to the myriads of stars which stud the heavens, -to those far distant suns, the greater part of which, perhaps, -surpass in grandeur and brightness that which is the centre of -our planetary system. It remains for us to interrogate these -scarcely perceptible bodies, sparkling at such an incalculable -distance, and to demand and draw from them the secret of their -chemical composition. This enterprise is daring, but it is not -rash. The difficulties are alarming; yet learned men are not -discouraged, for they are accustomed to see difficulties -disappear before strenuous and persevering labor. - -We commenced our study of the stars with the complicated -instruments which we employ for the sun; but we soon found out -that this complication was useless. We have been able to reduce -our instruments to the number of two, a cylindrical glass and a -prism. And M. Wolff, of the Paris Observatory, has succeeded -recently in suppressing the cylinder, keeping only the essential -element, that is, the prism intended to produce the appearance. - -We have examined a great number of stars, and I am going to -submit to you some of the results at which we have arrived. You -see at this moment the appearance which the star Orion presents. -This star is of a yellow color; the appearance which it produces -is deeply streaked; and it is one of the most beautiful in the -heavens. You will find there the line D of sodium, and the line b -of magnesium. These are two fundamental lines which have served -as marked points to compare this appearance with that of the sun. -Besides sodium and magnesium, _a_ of Orion contains iron, -copper, and several other known metals; but it is singular that -hydrogen is not found there in the free state, as in the sun. -There is, then, some essential difference between the stars, of -which you will be more convinced as we go further into the -subject. Here is the appearance of Sirius. You see it is not -nearly so fine. You will find two large bands in blue, in the -place of the streak F of the sun; two others in violet; and one, -very faint, in yellow. The two first are attributable to -hydrogen, and the last to sodium; but we know not to what -substance the violet is owing. In the green there are also some -very fine lines, but very difficult to seize. - -{540} - -What is most remarkable is, that all the white stars present the -same appearances, and half the stars that are visible belong to -this type. Thus the fine stars of the Lyre, of the Eagle, of the -Bear, Castor, etc., ought to be ranged by the side of Sirius. -There is, however, an exception in [zeta] of the Bear, which is a -yellow star. The magnificent stars of Arcturus, of the Goat, of -Procyon, belong, on the contrary, to the class of which our sun -is a type, except that the iron line E is much more marked. Their -color, of light yellow, led to the inference that they were -analogous to the sun, and the supposition has been confirmed by -spectral analysis. All know substances have an appearance which -is peculiar to them, and which characterizes them. Can we say as -much of the stars? Do they also present marked differences in -their appearance? This has been the subject of very interesting -researches. The task has been undertaken at the observatory of -the Roman College, and it has led to a result altogether -unforeseen, namely, that the stellar appearances appertain to -only a very limited number of types. We may classify them in -three groups. The first group is that of the white stars like -Sirius; the second, that of the yellow stars, of which Arcturus -and the second are members; and Orion may be regarded as a type -of the third, in which we ought to place _a_ of Hercules, -and [Beta] of Pegasus. These two last-named stars have very -remarkable appearances. They seem formed of a multitude of -channels, which are divided by large black bands. This form of -appearance shows us that the stars which belong to this type are -surrounded with atmospheres heavily charged with vapor. In this -group enters all the red stars, and in particular _Omicron_ -of the Whale, that celebrated star which has been called _The -Wonderful_. Several small stars of a blood-red color have -appearances resembling each other. It is remarkable that in all -the appearances belonging to stars of this type, the black lines -occupy the same place, which proves that in general they are all -made alike. - -I have observed further that certain types abound in certain -parts of the heavens, and that the stars of the same kind are -generally grouped together. Thus the white stars are found in the -Pleiades, the Bear, the Lyre, etc.; the yellow in the Whale, -Eridan, etc. The constellation of Orion deserves particular -attention; it abounds in stars of a green color, reminding us of -the nebula which is found in the same region of the sky. This -small number of types, and the grouping of which I have spoken, -constitute an unforeseen fact, the importance of which is -considerable from a cosmological point of view. We should not, -however, be hasty in drawing conclusions from it. - -A curious fact has been established with regard to one of the -white stars in Cassiopeia. Its appearance is directly the -opposite of that which is presented by stars of the same color, -for, in place of black lines, it shows some brilliant lines. This -phenomenon has appeared to me so extraordinary, that I am anxious -whether it is an isolated fact. I have observed more than five -hundred stars, selecting some of the largest, and I have found -only one, [Beta] of the Lyre, which possesses the same -peculiarity. M. Wolff says that among the small stars of the Swan -he has found some examples of the same kind. A most remarkable -fact is, that these brilliant lines were found in a transient -star which glittered for a time in the Crown in May, 1866. - -{541} - -These observations upset the theories which had been prematurely -built upon facts formerly known. Still, there is nothing -inexplicable here. You have seen that sodium burning gives a line -of a very lively yellow, while the line becomes black if the -sodium is increased to a considerable quantity. Might not the -same thing happen with the hydrogen, which produces the brilliant -lines of which I have spoken to you? Might not a small quantity -act by radiation, while the action would be one of absorption -should the mass be greater? - -After having examined the stars, it was impossible to resist the -temptation of observing the nebulae. You know that we designate -by this name the kind of white clouds which are found spread in -the heavens, and of which the nature is not perfectly known. -Herschel has assured us that many of them, by means of the -telescope, may be resolved into a multitude of small stars -approaching very closely to each other. We infer from this that -the greater part are composed in the same manner, and that the -feebleness of our instruments is the only thing that prevents us -from proving it. It is, however, admitted that many of these -nebulae are formed of cosmical matter in a state of vapor not -condensed. Everybody knows the nebulae which compose the Milky -Way. But besides those which are visible to the naked eye, there -is a vast number whose existence the telescope has revealed to -us. One, of the most celebrated is that which is found in the -magnificent constellation of Orion: we have carefully drawn it at -the Roman College, and you see at this moment a sketch of it on -the screen. The nebulae possess a very feeble light, and we had -our doubts of success in seeking to apply the spectral analysis -to them. We have, however, succeeded beyond our hopes. The -appearances obtained in these observations are very singular. -They reduce themselves constantly to luminous streaks, all the -other colors failing; it is, in another way, that which happens -when we burn an alcoholic solution with marine salt; the flame, -analyzed by the spectroscope, gives simply a yellow streak. In -the nebulae we find two green lines and a blue one. Such is the -result which we obtained in examining the large nebulae of Orion, -and that of the Milky Way in Sagittarius. Such is that, also, -which furnishes the little nebulae called planetaries, on account -of their form, which resembles that of the planets. These facts -have been established for the first time by M. Huggins. - -As I have just told you, the nebulas present generally but three -lines; one belongs to azote, another to hydrogen, and the third -is unknown. This result, which was not known before, is of the -highest importance; for it teaches us that the nebulae are -composed of gas and of vapors far removed from their point of -saturation and condensation. These appearances, with luminous -lines, distinctly isolated and separated from one another, -appertain essentially to gas, and, we ought to add, to gas raised -to a very high temperature. Thus we have made a discovery by the -aid of the prism, for which the most powerful glasses had failed -us. - -The nebulae, notwithstanding their shining points, are not in -general a collection of stars, but masses of cosmical matter in a -state of dissociation under the action of an extremely elevated -temperature. The collections of stars are perfectly -distinguishable by the continuity of their appearances, as we see -in the nebulae of Andromeda, and in some others which are well -known. The discovery opens a vast field of investigation, and -will be an epoch in science. - -{542} - -We have wandered far into the depths of space, very far from the -point from which we started. This is of no consequence, however, -for between the sun, the stars, and the nebulae there is a close -relation. The sun is simply a star approaching nearer to us than -others. According to a bold hypothesis, its entire mass was at -one period in a state of dissociation, which a great part of it -still actually preserves. The only thing that makes it differ -from the nebulae, and causes us to rank it among the stars, is -its superficial stratum of inconsiderable thickness. - -What mysteries do we not discover in nature, when we investigate -it by the aid of those principles and instruments with which -modern science has furnished us! And in the presence of the -wonders, what an exalted idea ought we to form of the splendors -of the universe and the power of its Creator! - -Permit me, gentlemen, in closing this lecture, to quote an -admirable thought of Saint Gregory of Nazianzus. The sun, says -that father, is the most perfect image of the Deity. You see the -effects which it produces; you enjoy its benefits; but you cannot -contemplate it directly, nor sound its depths. The loss of life, -the greatest of the earthly blessings we enjoy, would be the -punishment of the madman who would dare to invade its mysteries. -It is the same with the Deity; it is impossible for us to see in -himself; and we ought to content ourselves with admiring here -below those traces of his infinite perfections which shine in his -works. - -We have succeeded, by the means with which science has furnished -us, in examining this dazzling star, and in doing so we have seen -some unexpected wonders; but how many other wonders have escaped -us, which will doubtless be discovered at some future time! - -If we can thus speak of the material sun and its splendors, what -shall we not say of its prototype, when, freed from this material -covering of sense, and reduced to a state of pure intelligence, -we contemplate him with the eyes of our soul? Science and Faith -are two rays issuing from the same focus, the one direct, the -other reflected. As long as we are upon this earth we should be -content with the second, our vision not being strong enough to -support the brightness of the first. But a day will come when we -shall see the Divinity face to face; and, in the meantime, the -man who denies his unfathomable mysteries, under the pretence -that our feeble powers are not equal to their comprehension, is -as foolish as the rude peasant who should deny the wonders with -which I have entertained you, under the pretext that his eyes are -dazzled by the light of the sun. A day will come when the direct -rays of the Science of Divinity will no longer dazzle our -intelligence: the high destinies which awaits humanity will -permit of our contemplating the unclouded essence of the Deity, -as the reward of the persevering but not blind fidelity with -which we shall have here below, without pride as without -baseness, believed in his existence and admired his greatness. - ----------------- - -{543} - - Translated From The French. - - An Italian Girl Of Our Day. [Footnote 155] - - [Footnote 155: _Rosa Ferrucci: her Life, her Letters, and - her Death_. By the Abbé H. Perreyve.] - - - Continued From Page 372. - - -I here interrupt, for a moment, the order of these -_Letters_, to introduce a fragment from one of the writings -of Signorina Ferrucci, in which is found, eloquently developed, -the idea with which the last letter closes. Need we wonder that, -to so a pure a soul, Christianity was all mercy and all love? -Certainly not. The passions of men have so often disfigured the -sweet countenance of the gospel that those outside the household -of faith form a false idea of it, and, in their inability to -distinguish what is divine from what is human, they reject all. -But, if they would only learn to leave men and draw near to God, -to flee vain disputes and go to the centre where all is calm, -they would soon know that the genius of Christianity is indeed -love. Pure souls, whom anger and dispute have not marred, know -this well. The young author whom I am about to cite understood -it, and it is with a feeling of respect that I transcribe these -beautiful pages, which breathe so strong a perfume of the gospel: - - The love of God, which inflames the heart of man and infuses - into it a holy zeal, has assuredly nothing in common with that - implacable fanaticism with which infidelity so unjustly charges - the religion of Jesus Christ. And yet it is but too true that - the sons of one Heavenly Father, the inhabitants of a world - watered by the Redeemer's blood, have more than once, while - waging cruel war upon each other, ranged themselves under the - standard of the cross. But because such horrors darken the page - of history, are we to conclude that the love of God banishes - all toleration from the human heart, or can we deny that the - Catholic religion is all love? And shall the blind fury of men - make the world forget the numberless benefits which, for - nineteen centuries, the gospel has bestowed upon all nations - and upon its most cruel enemies? - - O church of the Redeemer! who dost pray for thine enemies, and - dost show thyself ever ready to succor them, even as our - Heavenly Father maketh his sun to shine upon the most - ungrateful of mankind, who was it that filled thy heart with - that holy and ever active love of all the virtues? Who gave - thee the strength to oppose at all times a tranquil front to - the masters of the world? Whence have thy martyrs derived that - courage which made them joyfully bend their heads under the axe - of the executioner? Who taught thee to confound the subtle - contradictions of the philosophers, and, with the same hands, - to break the chains of the slave? How is it that, ever firm and - immovable, thou alone hast survived the vicissitudes of all - things and the overthrow of so many thrones? Who has given thee - such power of persuasion that by its prodigies "from the very - stones are raised up children to Abraham"? In fine, whence hast - thou received that inviolable authority which resolves all - doubts, dissipates our errors, humbles the mighty, sustains the - weak, enlightens the world, pardons all faults, and consoles in - every affliction and in every distress? - -{544} - - Ah! who does not see that so many miracles have been wrought by - the sole power of that divine love kindled in thee by Jesus - Christ? For just as thou lovest Jesus in fatigue and in repose, - in tears and in joy, in persecution and in peace, in combat and - in victory, so also thou lovest in him and for him the humble - and the great, the faithful and the unbelieving, the poor and - the rich. There is not on this earth a human being for whom - thou dost not pray, and whom thou wouldst not, at any price, - bring back to the bosom of him who suffered for all men because - he loved all. Oh! may thy desires soon be fulfilled, holy - church of the living God! - - How, then, can that man call himself the friend of God and the - true son of the church of Jesus Christ, who would oppose arms - to arms, violence to violence, forgetting these words of - Christ, "Love your enemies," "Father, forgive them, for they - know not what they do"? The blind apostles of intolerance show - well that they have never penetrated in its true sense the life - of the Redeemer, who, suffering every injury, and even the - death of the cross, drew the whole world to himself by the - irresistible power of pardon and of love. He who would be - willing to forget his prejudices, and, retiring into the - solitude of his own heart, would plant there the sweet image of - Jesus Christ, such a one would soon learn how far the power of - Christian meekness transcends that of the sword, and he would - shudder at the thought of pursuing with fire and steel them - whom the cross alone may vanquish. Ah! if Jesus crucified - entered truly into our hearts, how many things would he not - make them understand! [Footnote 156] - - [Footnote 156: Della Carità Cristiani.] - -Again, I find, in the same paper, this beautiful sentiment: - - I believe that charity consists not solely in compassionating - the sufferings of the poor and relieving them. Its character is - more general: it must be the soul of all our sentiments. For my - part, I see charity in patience, in humility, in faith, in - docile submission to superiors, in justice, in courage, in - fortitude, in contempt of the world, in the desire of heaven. - Charity is, indeed, the light of God, infinite as himself. - Whoever has received into his heart a ray of this divine light - is bound, if I may so speak, to communicate its warmth to the - whole world. - -We return to the letters. - - July 15. - - Sweet were the impressions, Gaetano, which our walk yesterday - in that beautiful garden left on my mind. Is it not true that - the flowers, the trees, the blue sky, the pure soft air, the - song of the birds, the hum of the insects--all conspired to - speak to our hearts of God? I feel, too, that all these - beautiful things seemed more joyous to me because you were - there, for to me they all seemed to reflect the feelings of - your heart. Then those beautiful verses of my mother's which - Uncle G---- read to us affected me powerfully. Earth and - heaven, flowers and songs, all borrowed a new charm from the - harmony of those beautiful stanzas. - -{545} - - July 22. - - I do not know the places you speak of, unless you mean Romito - and Antignano. I went as far as La Torre on foot, one beautiful - August morning, without suffering much from the heat, which was - tempered by the sea-breeze. After having traversed that long, - steep road, which becomes at every step more solitary and more - closely shut in between the hills and the sea, I went up to the - top of the little fortress, and thence for a long time I gazed - on the neighboring islands and the vast horizon where sea and - sky seemed to unite, and I even discerned some of the lands of - the Maremma. Another time, with the Plezza, the Gabrini, and - other friends, we went as far as Romito. The sun had already - sunk below the horizon. Every moment the last glimmering of - twilight was becoming more faint, and soon the moon rose behind - the hills. Her pale rays were reflected in the sea, where - nothing was seen save a solitary fishing-boat; and the gentle - murmur of the waves, as they came slowly to die on the rocky - shore, was the only sound that broke the stillness of the - night. We crossed from time to time the dry bed of one of those - torrents which fall from the mountains into the sea; and thus, - now talking, now silent, gazing, admiring, we passed the two - little towers, and, arrived at the limits of the two communes, - we stopped and turned back, as if we had reached the Columns of - Hercules, There is a comparison that would please my good - friend Louisa V----. Would you believe it, in her last letter - she gravely compares me to a navigator steering toward a new - world. "Yet no," she says, "love is a world as old as the - earth." That may be, my good Louisa; but to me it is new, all - new, Gaetano, and I believe, even, that it will never grow old, - like everything that comes directly from God, who is endless - duration in eternal youth! On this is grounded my sure hope - that, after having united us here on earth, he will unite us - again in the life to come; and this thought alone raises me - from earth to heaven! - -This was not the first time that Rosa had visited Antignano. That -calm and lovely shore had witnessed the sports of her childhood. -Three or four years before the date of the last letter we have -given, she wrote from that place to one of her young friends the -following pretty letter: - - Antignano, July, 1853. - - In spite of our joy at being here, believe me, my dear Maria, - we feel your absence sadly. It turns to melancholy the joyous - memories of last year. This is from my heart, Maria; how happy - I should be to have you at this moment by my side! Come back to - us then, dear friend, come back! The little wood where we spent - so many happy hours, the great shady trees, the smiling - country, and the sea--all call you back. Why, it is but two - days since I heard a wave which came bounding over the sea say - to you, "Come down, young girl, from the flowery bank into this - calm sea, and yield to the invitation of the sun, who with his - brilliant rays is brightening air and earth and water." But - this pretty song of the naiad was suddenly interrupted, for my - poor wave broke and expired on a rock. All its sister wavelets - murmured the same prayer to you, but all, like the first, soon - broke upon the shore; and I grew pensive at the sight, for - those poor waves, vanishing so quickly, seemed to me a true - image of our shattered hopes, which cause us so many tears. - Meanwhile a little interior voice remained with me, and - murmured sweetly in my ear, "Courage, courage! Why are you sad? - Cannot Maria come back? I am your good friend Hope, listen to - me and believe me: I promise you that next year Maria shall be - here." This consoled me a little, for I always believe what my - good friend Hope tells me. Courage, then, and patience, and I - am sure of having you yet at Antignano. Dear Maria, pardon this - letter, which is as long as it is foolish, and, if you do not - understand it, seek in it only a new proof of my tender - affection for you. Meanwhile, let us leave the world of dreams - and enter that of news. ... - -{546} - - To Gaetano. - July 28. - - This day brings to us a mournful anniversary. Poor Charles - Albert! on this day, and at the very hour in which I write, he - yielded up to God his soul, oppressed with grief, but still - full of an unshaken confidence in the justice of his cause and - the imprescriptibility of his rights. Doubtless the saints have - welcomed into heaven him who on earth loved God and suffered - for justice' sake. It is with feelings of compassion that I - think of the king, his son, surviving all his family, who have, - one after the other, gone before him to the grave. - -This enthusiastic remembrance of the house of Savoy is not the -only one to be found in the letters of Rosa Ferrucci. The -misfortunes of the king, Charles Albert; the death of the Duke of -Genoa, his son; the ruin of so many hopes, for a moment -triumphant--all these often call forth in her correspondence -plaints and regrets. I like to see this love of national -independence in so pure a soul. She says somewhere: - - "In considering the history of nations, we discover at every - step new and infallible proofs of the wisdom and omnipotence of - him who directs the affairs of the world; of that mysterious - justice which surpasses all human understanding as the heavens - surpass the earth. Hope, then, in the Lord, ye victims of - oppression! Acknowledge the hand which alone can give you - deliverance! And you, usurpers of the rights of the vanquished, - triumph not without trembling at the tears which you have - caused to flow. He lives, he will live for ever, who will never - remain deaf to the lamentations of his people Israel. If he - defers his justice, are you to cease to believe in him? Because - he can wait, will your presumption know no bounds? Do you - forget that God is patient because he is eternal?" [Footnote - 157] - - [Footnote 157: Della Carità Cristiani] - -Patriotism was, however, a family tradition with Rosa Ferrucci. -At the time of the memorable events which, in 1848, threatened -the speedy overthrow of Austrian rule in Italy, Signer Ferrucci, -with his colleagues in the University of Pisa, quitted his chair, -and, at the head of the students, who had formed themselves into -a body, set out for the army, accompanied by his young son. They -took part in all the battles of that unfortunate campaign--at -first in its victories, then in its reverses--and returned to -Pisa only after the ruin of the last hope. These are facts too -little known in the contemporary history of that unhappy Italy -whose faults are the theme of every tongue, while few know how -many noble hearts she can still produce. - -We resume the correspondence: - - August 4. - - May I tell you, Gaetano, what I have been thinking about our - future life? We must first, as we have so often said, have - continually present to our minds the will of God, endeavor to - accomplish it in all things, and be ever submissive to it from - our inmost hearts. Then we must have but one heart and one soul - in serving God, and I hope that we shall have but one heart - also in loving our dear parents. What ingratitude would be ours - if in our happiness we forgot them to whom we owe so much, and - who loved us before we knew what love was! [Footnote 158] - - [Footnote 158: "Prima che noi potessimo sapere che fosse - amore."] - -{547} - - Let us endeavor so to regulate the affections of our hearts - that one shall not be stifled by the other, but that all, - forming a sweet harmony, may rise toward him who created us, - and for whom alone we must live. May he alone be the end of all - our actions and of all our thoughts! Then fatigue will never - overcome our courage, our duties will never seem too heavy, our - life will be calm, our intentions pure, and we shall taste even - here below that interior peace, - - "Which no one knows but he who feels it." - - Such is the plan of our life. I have but lightly sketched it, - fearing that I might seem to be giving counsels and prescribing - rules to you. All this is possible only by the grace of God. - Let us beg it through the intercession of the Blessed Virgin at - the approaching festival of the Assumption; we have so great - need of her protection and guidance. - - "We pray for grace and it obtain - From her who is its mother." - - - September 15. - - To-day I am as sad as I was joyous yesterday. Your departure, - the thought of an inevitable separation from my father and - mother, a thousand conflicting feelings in my heart, - undefinable to myself, have made me weep. Alas for us women! we - are weaker than the leaves which are stripped from the trees - and scattered by the first wind of autumn; and, childhood - scarce passed, our hearts, capable only of loving and - suffering, are torn by a thousand contrary emotions of joy and - sadness. Pardon me these murmurs, O my God! No, I ought not to - weep, but ought rather to pour out my soul in thanksgiving. - - I open my whole heart to you, Gaetano, because it is you who - are to be the support of my life; to share all my thoughts, - dispel my fears, and be my counsellor and guide. Singular - thing! my new hopes have made all my feelings more keen and - ardent. Hence those alternations of joy and sadness, to whose - deepest emotions I was till lately a stranger. As it is, I do - not know how I am to tear myself from the arms of those who - watched over my childhood and who love me so much. But let us - forget all this to-day. I can no longer speak of my mother - without my eyes filling with tears. It is drawing near that - dear October. If I cannot enjoy your ruralizing, I can, at - least, be happy in thinking of the pleasure you will find in - it. You are going to see your mountains again, and those - pine-groves, which from my childhood I have ever loved and - admired. In the midst of the flowers, the plants, the trees, - you will think often of him who created us with souls capable - of loving the beautiful and good; of him who this year has - opened to you the horizon of a new life, in which I hope you - will never find either regrets or thorns. Oh! how easy, as it - seems to me, does the beauty of the country make the love of - God. How sweet it is to think that the same God who gives the - dews and the fertilizing rains to the earth, foliage to the - trees, flowers and harvests to the fields, is also that loving - Father who supports us in all our trials and so sweetly invites - our souls to repose in himself! Let me speak to you of the good - God, Gaetano; I love so much to think of him. - - - September 25. - - I cannot express the pleasure it is to me to gaze into the deep - azure of the beautiful mornings of which - - "The air is sweet and changeless," - - and of the lovely evenings when the stars seem to speak, and - tell in a sacred language the wisdom of God. The country does - good to our souls. In admiring its beauties and its treasures - ever new, we are led more easily to think that, if earth was - made for man, man was created to love God. I often say to - myself, What, then, will heaven be, if there is so much of - beauty on this poor earth, where we are not so much dwellers as - pilgrims? ... On the eve of St. John's day, all Florence was - illuminated. There was nothing to be heard but games and noisy - laughter among the people. Every one was gazing eagerly at the - fireworks and the illuminations; but no one thought of admiring - the most beautiful ornament of the feast--I mean the moon, - whose tremulous rays were reflected in the Arno, lengthening - the shadows of the trees. - -{548} - - September 28. - - Next year we will go to the country together. If you knew how I - love your mountains, with their tall pines, their flowers, - their streams, and their green summits. I still remember the - moment I left them. It was a November morning. The faint rays - of a cloud-veiled sun shed a pale light on the horizon, the - leaves were falling from the trees, and the snow of the day - before still covered the summits. All nature was solitary and - sad. Who could have told me then, that to this melancholy spot - which I was leaving as a child, I should return with you a - happy bride? - - - October 23. - - Enjoy well your ruralizing; its pleasures are a thousand times - sweeter than those of our towns. How pleasant it is of an - evening to climb the heights, and thence behold the vast - expanse of heaven still purpled by the sun's last rays; to see - at one's feet the fields, the pine groves, the pale olives, the - elms, yellow-tinted by autumn, the little, scattered cottages - of the peasants, with the smoke of the evening fire rising from - the roof, and the village church, which seems by the tolling of - its bell "to mourn the dying day," - - "Il giorno pianger che si muore!" - [Transcriber's note: This sentence is blurred.] - - I am far from all this now, but I often think of it. Again I - see our happy day at Cuccigliana, our mountain walk, and that - beautiful horizon, with its luminous depths, which promised me - a joyous future. How many things nature can say! How she can - speak to the heart! How, above all, she can speak to it of God! - Flowers, hills, forests, earth, and sky--all are more - beautiful when we have learned to discern in them the beauty of - God. How many times already, Gaetano, have I gone over again - our walk on the Serchio, where the rustling of the leaves was - the only accompaniment to our long conversations! Ah! may God - bless thee, may he render thee happy, and all my desires will - be satisfied. - - - Eve of All Saints' Day. - - Oh! if the feast of to-morrow should one day be our feast! Do - not suppose, however, that I am presumptuous enough to hope - that we shall ever be like the saints of our altars. No; but I - believe that not only those great saints, but also all the - souls of the just who are admitted to the beatific vision of - God, are invoked on this great day by the church. This it is - that emboldens my desires. ... - - If you are sad, recollect that it has pleased God thus to - alternate in this world our joys and sorrows, in order to - implant more deeply in our souls the desire of that life in - which weeping shall be no more. Then shall we be united I hope, - in the love and blissful contemplation of that God whom we now - adore under the veil of faith. - -{549} - - Meanwhile it is sweet to say to one's self: God loves me - infinitely more than I can love myself. He thinks of me and - watches over me with a tenderness surpassing all the tenderness - of a mother. What, then, should I fear? And besides, how be - Christians and not be willing to suffer for love of a God who - has suffered so much for us? I would share these thoughts with - you, Gaetano, because I find in them my strength and - consolation every day. Treasure them in your heart, call them - often to mind, and your sadness will disappear as - - "La neve al sol si disigilla." [Footnote 159] - - [Footnote 159: "The snow dissolves before the sun."] - - I do not think we shall lose by the exchange when, having - finished Milton, we read Virgil together. That great man seems - to me indeed - - "The light and honor of the other poets," - - as our Dante says. We shall reap from this reading the great - advantage of being able to compare the principal episodes of - the AEneid with the best passages of other poems. I assure you - I do not regret the time I give to my little studies; if I had - to commence them again, I should apply myself only with more - diligence and attention. I owe to them the best pleasures that - I have known; above all, I owe to them community of - intellectual life with you. [Footnote 160] - - [Footnote 160: I would for a moment call the reader's - attention to this sentiment. Such should, indeed, be the - chief end of the studies of every Christian woman--community - of intellectual life with her husband, community of - intellectual life with her sons.] - - Now that I do not take lessons, and that, consequently, I have - no more leisure, I know no more lively pleasure than to shut - myself up in my little room with my books and my pen; and even - during those hours which I ought and which I am determined to - devote to needlework, I love still to think of what I have read - and to beguile the time by these pleasant memories. Having had - some time for study to-day, I resumed the reading of Muratori, - taking the history of the wars of Odoacer and Theodoric. The - subject is a familiar one, but I return to it always willingly, - because I think the history of the middle ages even more - important for us to know than ancient history. And then what - joy of soul to see the church, in all places and in the most - barbarous ages, the mother and guardian of civilization, the - friend and consoler of the vanquished, the last bulwark of the - oppressed against the unbridled pretensions of power! - - Poor Italy! how she has suffered! What carnage! How much blood - shed in vain! How many tears! - - - January 1, 1857. - - Let us pray God, let us pray him with our whole heart to-day, - Gaetano, to bless our union, our souls, our actions, our - thoughts, our life. May he deign to preserve long those who are - dear to us, to shield us from great misfortunes, and, above - all, never to withdraw his grace from us! Such are the prayers - that we will offer together, united in heart, though separated - by distance. God will see the sincerity of our desires, and he - will grant them. - - The serenity of the heavens gladdens all nature, and rejoices - also our souls, which in the light of the sun seem, as it were, - a reflection of the Increated Light. I do not think I am - superstitious, Gaetano; and if the new year had commenced in - the midst of lightning, thunder, and dismal rains, I should - certainly not, on that account, have augured ill for our - future. But now, contemplating the calmness and pureness of the - sky and of the whole horizon, I ask of God to give us a life - like to this beautiful day, that is to say, such a life that - nothing may ever be able to disturb in our souls that peace - whose source is in God, its eternal fount. - -{550} - - January 4. - - After some cold days, the weather has again become very mild, - and the air is balmy as with the first perfumes of spring. How - brightly the sun shines to-day! Its warm beams inundate my - little room. Seated at my table, at some distance from the - window, my eye wanders involuntarily to what I can see of the - sky. I fancy I see a great blue eye looking down lovingly on - me. Ah Gaetano! how good is God! - - I have just learned the death of a very dear friend. Young, - beautiful, brought up in opulence, the only daughter of a - mother who idolized her, she wished to become a Sister of - Charity in order to serve God in his poor. For ten years she - has been a tender mother to the orphan, and she has just died - in the bloom of her days. Dear and good Sister Maria! how happy - I should have been to see her again! I do not cease thinking of - her! Schiller would say here: "Cease to weep: tears do not - resuscitate the dead." Ah! with what a far different power do - the words addressed by the Redeemer to the afflicted come home - to our hearts: "Blessed are they that weep, for they shall be - comforted!" The more I meditate on these words, and then look - on earth in its renewal, the pure light and deep azure of the - sky, the more I am impressed, death notwithstanding, with the - infinite goodness of God and the ineffable bliss of a future - life. I hear sometimes of the good being oppressed by the - wicked; I often see virtuous persons in misfortune; will not, - then, the just also have their day and their recompense? Ah! - often, when at night I raise my eyes toward the twinkling - stars, I think of those happy souls who are there on high, - higher than the stars, in the eternal enjoyment of the beatific - vision, of adoration and love without end. If man would only - fix his soul on such thoughts, what is there on earth that - could discourage him? - - I received your dear letter this morning, Gaetano, and lest you - should suppose I thought it too gloomy, I must tell you that I, - too, have been thinking of death the whole day, and that I even - offered a special prayer to our Lord to be merciful to me when - the hour shall have come for me to pass from time to eternity, - and, as I hope, "from the human to the divine." We have need of - abandoning ourselves with a child-like confidence into the arms - of God, if we wish to keep alive in our hearts the hope of - seeing in heaven him whom we adore on earth. For my part, if, - instead of thinking of him alone, I turned to think of myself, - I really know not whither my reflections might lead me. But - hope, which is a Christian virtue, is a firm expectation of - future glory, I will, then, forget my fears and believe that, - despite our imperfections, we may one day taste in the bosom of - God a happiness even of the shadow of which we cannot catch a - glimpse on this earth. We shall then know in what overflowing - measure the Lord rewards even the feeblest efforts of his - friends. We shall know how everything here below was inevitably - passing away with ourselves, how this earthly life vanished - more lightly than a dream, and that there remains nothing to - man after death but love, that ethereal part of the soul which - God claims all for himself. Yet more: I believe that the love - which shall unite and commingle our souls on high will not be - absorbed in the contemplation of the divine essence in such a - manner that the sweetness of loving each other still shall - escape our perception. -{551} - I believe, on the contrary, that it will be the triumph of love - to exist and to endure in God, and to unite in one canticle of - praise the souls which God made to love one another. - - More sorrow--Matilda is dead! [Footnote 161] Oh! how we loved - her. She was an angel! It is we only who suffer, for to her it - is pure happiness to have quitted earth. Not a murmur was ever - heard from her lips. She found all peace and all strength in - the love of God. Her soul so easily opened itself to joy. The - day before her death, seeing some flowers, "What beautiful - things our God has made!" she exclaimed. Her friends wished to - inform her father of her imminent danger. This she constantly - opposed, wishing to spare that poor father the agony of a last - farewell. Here are examples. - - [Footnote 161: Matilda Manzoni, daughter of the celebrated - author of _I Promessi Sposi_.] - - I do not know the introduction you speak of; but my mother has - read to me the admirable verses of Manzoni which are prefixed - to it. How many things these verses recall to me. They have - affected me powerfully. Returning in memory to the times that - are past, I fancied as I listened to them that I heard the - sweet voice of my poor Matilda, who, in reciting this beautiful - poetry, evinced so tender an admiration for her father's - genius. We were at Viareggio. It was a beautiful summer - evening, and the peace of a starlit sky penetrated deep into - our souls. Matilda said to me: "Rosa, if you could only tell me - the first verse of those stanzas, I am sure I could recite the - whole." For some time I ransacked my poor memory in vain. - Suddenly came the word, "Pause awhile." That word was enough. - Matilda recited without failing in a word--and oh! with what - feeling--the whole piece of poetry. Dear friend! she is with - us no longer, and we shall see her no more on earth. When I - parted with her last, I said to her: "Farewell till we meet - again." I ought to have said: "Farewell till we meet in - heaven." - - When the storm came upon us, [Footnote 162] two terrific peals - of thunder were heard at once. I confess, Gaetano, I did not - expect to reach Pisa. And oh! how terrible is the thought of - death, when all around reminds one of the almighty power of - God. I trembled as I thought of eternity. I saw my own - nothingness, and that my only refuge was in the bosom of God. - There did I cast myself with all the confidence of my soul. - Unperceived by any one, I drew from my bosom my crucifix, and, - concealing it in my hand, I pressed it to my lips. I felt then - what help religion will give us in our last moments, for I - immediately regained courage, and all my fears vanished. - - [Footnote 162: Signorina Ferrucci was, with her parents, - returning from Leghorn to Pisa, when they were surprised by a - violent storm, which is the subject of this letter.] - - - To Signorina Louisa B----. - - I received your sad and tender letter yesterday, my dear - Louisa, and I answer it without delay, to prove to you that - your sorrows are mine. Poor Antonietta! Yet, why weep for her? - Her soul has winged its flight to the celestial regions, where, - as she said in her delirium, all was ready to receive her. It - is not to her, then--it is to you, to your family, to - ourselves, that our tears belong. -{552} - As soon as I heard the sad tidings, I raised my heart to God, - and offered him a fervent prayer for your mother and yourself. - As to Antonietta, I could not pray for her, because I saw her - truly in the midst of the angelic choirs. - - Dear friend, would that I could console you; but I feel with - sadness my utter inability. It is God alone who has the secret - of true consolation. Is not he our good Father? Does not he - await us in that blessed abode where there are neither sorrows - nor tears, but where reign eternal peace and happiness? And - then, my poor Louisa, if life seemed to promise your dear - sister happiness and joy, has not death put her in possession - of joys more pure, happiness more profound, than she could ever - have desired? Oh! how enviable is her lot. She will never know - the troubles, the disappointments, the disenchantments of this - life. She will be spared all the suffering which is inseparable - from a long existence. Death has been to her a beautiful angel, - come from heaven to crown her with flowers. Dry your tears, - Louisa: your sister is happier than we. - - - To Gaetano, - - Each day is bringing you nearer the mournful anniversary you - spoke of in your last letter. I beg, I conjure you, Gaetano, to - allow to your heart no sentiment but that of resignation. - Remember that we shall see in heaven those who are taken from - us on earth; and that the sufferings of this life are the means - by which we are to attain endless beatitude. I speak thus, not - to preach patience to you, which it would ill become me to do, - but to give you a word of consolation; for I know all that you - have suffered, all that you still suffer in secret. The cares - of business and the multiplicity of exterior duties will not - prevent sorrowful memories from taking possession of your soul. - You can, then, but offer your sufferings as a sacrifice, - believing that they will render us more worthy of the divine - love. If I already shared your life, I would do everything in - my power to console and encourage you on these sad days. - Meanwhile let us both strive each day to lessen our - imperfections, and to let the love of God have fuller scope in - our hearts. Thus shall we, if not without fear, at least - without remorse, reach that solemn moment of our life, the one - that will end it. May God, who, we hope, will one day unite us - on earth by holy ties, deign to unite us also in heaven! - - - January 21. - (Three days before the commencement of her illness.) - - Truly we must be always ready to die when and as God wills, and - to love him infinitely more than all the things of this world - which are passing away with our frail lives. Our immortal soul - is not made for this world, where all is fleeting, dissolving, - changing. By the very nature of its being, it yearns for - heaven. For me, living or dead, in this world or the next, I - will be ever thine, my Gaetano, in the love that God knows and - blesses. - -This letter is the last that Rosa Ferrucci wrote. - - Concluded In Next Number. - ----------- - -{553} - - The Sanitary and Moral Condition of New York City. - - -A glance at New York City, embracing the entire of Manhattan -Island, will show that its geographical position, its advantages -for sewerage and drainage, in fact for everything that would make -it salubrious and healthy, cannot be surpassed by any city in -this or any other country. And still, with its bountiful supply -of nature's choicest gifts, many of our readers will be surprised -to hear that our death-rate is higher than that of any city on -this continent, or any of the larger cities of Europe. We append -a table showing the relative per annum mortality in various -cities: - - Death. Population. - - New York 1 in 35 - London 1 in 45 - Paris 1 in 40 - Copenhagen 1 in 36 - Christiansund, - (Norway.) 1 in 40 - Liverpool 1 in 44 - Philadelphia 1 in 48 - Boston 1 in 41 - Newark, N. J 1 in 44 - Providence 1 in 45 - Hartford 1 in 54 - Rochester 1 in 44 [Footnote 163] - - [Footnote 163: _Health in Country and Cities_. W. F. - Thorns, M. D.] - -Let us first examine the conditions which favor and cause this -excessively high death-rate, and then approximate as nearly as -possible what our percentage of mortality should be, under good -hygienic regulations. - -The primary cause of the present condition is, evidently, in the -packing system of the tenant-houses; and how the unfortunates -exist in the fetid air and dirt of these dens, it is impossible -to imagine. The name tenant-house is applied to all buildings -containing three or more families. There are at present in our -city 18,582 of these residences. In these live over a -half-million of people, or more than half of our entire -population. These houses vary in condition, from the apartments -over stores on our prominent thoroughfares, which often contain -all the comforts and conveniences of more aristocratic and -imposing structures, through many gradations to the cellar, -garrets, and model tenant-houses, occupied by the most miserable -of our inhabitants. Such an economy of space was never known to -be displayed in sheltering cattle as is here shown in the houses, -if they can be so called, of the laboring classes. We give a -description of one of these establishments, for the benefit of -those who have never examined a "model tenant-house." On a lot 25 -by 100 feet two buildings are erected, one in the front, the -second in the rear. Between the houses is a yard or open space, -in which are located rows of stalls to be used as water-closets. -The buildings are frequently seven and eight stories high, -including basement. Through the middle of each house runs a hall -three to four feet wide. On each side of the hall are the -apartments, as they are termed, more properly coops or dens. -There are sometimes three or four sets of these coops to each -half, making six or eight families to the floor; and so they are -packed, from the cellar to the roof of the establishment. As the -term "suites of apartments" is rather deceptive to the -uninitiated, we will state this means simply two--one, the -common room, where all the cooking, washing, and other family -work is performed, and in some instances used additionally for -manufacturing purposes, as shoe-making, tailoring, etc.; the -other is the sleeping-room. -{554} -The first is generally 8 feet by 10, and the second 7 by 8, with -an average height of 7 feet. "Not unfrequently two families--yea, -four families--live in one of these small sets of dens; and in -this manner as many as 126 families, numbering over 800 souls, -have been packed into one such building, and some of the families -taking boarders and lodgers at that. And worse yet, all around -such tenements, or in close proximity to them, stand -slaughter-houses, stables, tanneries, soap factories, and -bone-boiling establishments, emitting life-destroying -exhalations." [Footnote 164] - - [Footnote 164: Mr. Dyer's Report on the Condition of the - Destitute and Outcast Children of this city.] - -Imagine rows of such houses, so close to each other as to shut -out the air and sunlight from their inmates, and you have a -picture of the condition of some portions of the lower wards of -New York City. Of the 18,582 tenant-houses. Dr. E. B. Dalton, the -Sanitary Superintendent, reports "52 per cent in bad sanitary -condition, that is, in a condition detrimental to the health and -dangerous to the lives of the occupants, and sources of infection -to the neighborhood generally; 32 per cent are in this condition -purely from overcrowding, accumulations of filth, want of -water-supply, and other results of neglect." Dr. E. Harris, the -efficient Register of Vital Statistics for the Board of Health, -informs us that, although the Fourth ward has given up nearly one -half its space for mercantile purposes, it still retains the -population it had in 1864. This is effected by driving the poor -tenants into smaller space and more miserable dens, which they -are obliged to accommodate themselves to, as there is no rapid -transportation at their command by which they could reach homes -in more salubrious districts, and still retain their employment -in this section. The result is, that in some locations the people -are packed at the rate of nearly 300,000 to the square mile. Here -are congregated the vilest brothels, the lowest dance-houses, and -other dens of infamy. It is doubtful if throughout Europe, and -certainly in no other part of America, in the same amount of -space, so much vice, immorality, pauperism, disease, and fearful -depravity could be found, as some of the worst of these locations -present daily for our consideration. Our readers must not -suppose, from our frequent references to the Fourth ward, that it -contains all of this character of trouble existing in New York. -This is not the case. In portions of all the wards in the lower -part of the island, as well as up-town by either river-side as -high as Fiftieth street, will the same condition be found, but -not in so concentrated a form as in the Fourth Ward and its -immediate surroundings, which has for a long time held the -unenviable reputation of being the worst locality on the island. - -Practical hygienists give 1000 cubic feet as the standard amount -of air-space for each individual. Dr. W. F. Thoms, in his -pamphlet on _Tenant-Houses_, thinking that quantity -impracticable in this character of building, gives 700 cubic feet -as the minimum in which a person can live and not be injured by -the carbonic acid he constantly expires. With many of the -'fever-nests' not more than 300 to 400 feet to the individual are -given; and Captain Lord's report shows that in 289 houses the -quantity allowed each inmate is only between 100 and 300 cubic -feet. - -{555} - -The zymotic or foul-air diseases, as they are termed by some, -formed 29.36 per cent of our total mortality during last year. -[Footnote 165] - - [Footnote 165: Dr. Harris's Report.] - -Belonging to this class are the diarrhoeal maladies, Asiatic -cholera, cholera-morbus, typhoid and typhus fevers, small-pox, -measles, scarlet fever, and others of this kind; also the -dietetic disorders, inanition, scurvy, etc. It will be readily -seen that, in such locations as are above described, a very large -proportion of the mortality from this class must arise. -Consumption also, which might properly be termed the constant -scourge of the human family, assists largely in running up our -death-table. The late Archbishop Hughes, in speaking of this -disease, said "it was the natural death of the Irish emigrant in -this country." This remark is equally true of persons coming from -all other countries, partially on account of foreigners not being -acclimated to the vicissitudes of our climate, but more -particularly because so many of them dwell in damp, leaky -shanties, or in cellars which are frequently below the level of -high water. Here the seeds of the disease are planted by which -the miserable victims of hectic fever, night-sweats, and other -attendant evils are hurried to their untimely graves. In the -fifteen months ending December 31st, 1867, 4123 persons died in -our city of this disease. The largest number of these were -between the ages of 25 and 40. One thousand seven hundred and -sixty-five were natives of Ireland, 1430 were Americans, 600 -Germans, and 328 from other foreign countries. - -Upon the infants, however, of these polluted districts death -fastens his relentless grasp, and from their ranks under the age -of five years he claimed last year over one half the entire -mortality of the city. The blood of these innocents is poisoned -from birth by the noxious influences of bad air and adulterated -food; consequently their nutrition is defective, and the majority -of them are found frail, puny, and miserable. In this condition -they are little able to stand the irritation attendant upon the -process of dentition, and during this period a large number of -them rapidly sink from diarrhoea, marasmus, or some kindred -disorder. - -Seven thousand four hundred and ninety-four of these little ones -died last year under twelve months of age. This is supposed to be -little less than one fourth of all the infants born alive during -the same period. Is it not enough to send a thrill of horror to -the breast of every mother, to think that one out of every four -infants born, must perish before it reaches its first birthday? - -"This is well known to be twice too high a death-rate for the -first year of infant life, and experience demonstrates, that the -infant death-rate is a safe index of the general rate of -mortality, both in the total population and in the adults of any -city or district. That is, if in the Sixth ward we find a high -death-rate in children, and if it is vastly higher than that in -the children of the Fifteenth ward, then we shall find (as we -actually have found) that the death-rate is excessively high in -the total number of adult inhabitants of the Sixth, while there -is a very low death-rate in the Fifteenth that buries the -smallest percentage of its infants." [Footnote 166] - - [Footnote 166: Dr. Harris's Report.] - -An easy solution to this is found in the greater susceptibility -of early infancy from extreme delicacy of formation. Just as the -accurate thermometer indicates immediately every change in the -temperature, so these frail organizations blight first under -detrimental influences, before the more matured portion of the -population are perceptibly affected by the same causes. -{556} -The following will strikingly elucidate the greater expectation -for human life to persons living in even comparatively salubrious -districts. The death-rate in the Fourth ward, in 1863, was about -1 in 25 of the population; in the Fifteenth, in the same year, it -was 1 in 60. - -Why should this wide difference in the mortality exist in two -sections of the same city adjacent to each other? The reason is -obvious: there are but few of the densely over-crowded -tenant-houses in the Fifteenth or healthy ward, while the Fourth -presents a population of nearly 20,000 souls packed in these -buildings. Thus it is shown that persons living in the Fifteenth -ward, have two and a half times more chances for life than those -residing in the Fourth. - -The all-important question to the social economist now recurs: -What is the necessary or inevitable mortality of the total -population of this city? We cannot do better than refer to the -mortality above given for the Fifteenth ward, which is 1 in 60. -Why is it not practicable to bring our sanitary regulations to -such perfection as to reduce the mortality of the entire city to -near this standard? Thus we would save many lives, now sacrificed -by diseases which we have the power in a great measure to -control; and we would lessen the general death-rate of the city -to between 16,000 and 17,000 to the 1,000,000, instead of -ranging, as it now does, from 23,000 to 26,000 to the same amount -of population. - -To look at this fearful drain of human life is painful enough; -but the moral aspect of the subject will be found even more -deplorable. The constant inhalation of vitiated air lowers the -vitality and poisons the entire organism, and, as a natural -consequence, predisposes these unfortunates to a continual desire -for stimulation. This, in fact, is a manifestation of nature, -which, by a wise dispensation of Providence, when depressed or -disordered from any cause, has a constant tendency toward health. -They, however, do not appreciate that pure air, cleanliness, and -substantial food would quench this natural longing; but they seek -that which is more gratifying to their depraved appetites; as for -the time being it steals their reason and blunts their -sensibility to present misery. These facts account to a great -extent for the large number of rum-holes found in the -neighborhood of these tenant rookeries, which is reported in -certain localities to be one for less than every two houses. Many -of these low groggeries are so disgustingly filthy, and their -poisonous compounds so corrupting of every moral feeling, that -they can properly be placed on an equality with the despicable -Chinese opium-dens found in the neighborhood of Whitechapel in -London. The following figures demonstrate the immense number of -votaries who frequent drinking-saloons in this city, and the vast -sums of money squandered annually in these degrading haunts: -"There are at present 5203 licensed rum-shops in New York; -697,202 persons visit these daily, 4,183,212 in a week, and -218,224,226 in a year. The total amount of money paid out for -drinks across the bar and at the drinking-tables of the -liquor-shops of New York is $736,280.59 a week, or $38,286,590.68 -a year." [Footnote 167] - - [Footnote 167: Dyer's Report.] - -This is the account of the licensed bar-rooms: how many -unlicensed ones exist it is impossible to know. When we consider -that the highest estimate made of our population gives us only -1,000,000 of inhabitants, the foregoing figures certainly are -astounding, and deserve most earnest consideration. -{557} -In connection with this subject, it will be interesting to -examine the annals of crime for the past year. There were 80,532 -[Footnote 168] arrests made during the twelve months ending -October 31st, 1867. - - [Footnote 168: Report Metropolitan Police.] - -These embrace offences of every grade, from petty larceny to -murder. The number of the latter is 59, or an average of more -than one a week. This total number of criminals amounts to nearly -one twelfth of our entire population, and certainly shows a very -low grade of morals in our community. It would be most -interesting to know what proportion of these criminals date the -commencement of their career in crime, from the time they began -to drink intoxicating liquors. - -One of the saddest features in our city is the condition of the -homeless children. "The number of these between the ages of five -and fifteen years is stated to be 200,900, of which not more than -75,000 attend Sunday-school, leaving the vast number of 125,000 -of our children unreached and uncared for, of which it has been -estimated that nearly 40,000 are vagrant children." [Footnote -169] "Hundreds of these children are confirmed drunkards, and -thousands of them are accustomed to strong drink. Children from -the age of fourteen years down to infants of four are daily met -in a state of intoxication. They come drunk to the -mission-schools. The little creatures have many a time lain -stretched upon the benches of this institution, (Howard Mission,) -sleeping off their debauch. Hundreds of them have become veteran -thieves, and thousands more are in training for the same end. -Nine hundred and sixty girls and 3,958 boys, between the ages of -ten and fifteen years--making a total of 4618--were arrested -during the year ending October 31st, 1867, for drunkenness and -petty crimes." [Footnote 170] - - [Footnote 169: R. G. Pardee, Esq., communication to _New - York Observer_.] - - [Footnote 170: Dyer's Report.] - -The arrests for the same period between the ages of ten and -twenty years amounts to the fearful number of 13,660. Is it not -melancholy to contemplate these little creatures, "made to the -image and likeness of God," allowed to develop in such haunts of -crime, every faculty as soon as awakened blunted by the -atmosphere of sin surrounding them? If not rescued from their -fate at an early age, we know they are the embryo criminals who -will in the future fill our prisons and grace our scaffolds. How -can it be otherwise? Nurtured in a hot-bed of crime from infancy, -educated in pilfering and beggary in childhood, it is but human -that they should develop these accomplishments in rank luxuriance -as they grow to manhood. It seems strange that Mr. Bergh's -attention has never been drawn to the condition of the miserable -tenants and the homeless children. He and the rest of his society -take every means to remedy the complaints of ill-used quadrupeds; -but unfortunate biped humanity may be stalled in filthy dens with -imperfect drainage and no ventilation, or, the little ones starve -and die on our thoroughfares, without finding a humanitarian to -raise a voice in their behalf. It is true, our cattle should be -cared for, but a just God will demand at our hands some -protection for his poor. - - "He has said--his truths are all eternal-- - What he said both has been and shall be-- - What ye have not done to these my poor ones, - Lo! ye have not done it unto me." [Footnote 171] - - [Footnote 171: Proctor.] - -The radical relief for the evils growing out of the tenant-house -system can only be reached by, first, condemning and tearing down -the worst class of these buildings; and, secondly, remodelling -those which, by their construction, are susceptible of such -improvement as will insure the inmates at least the blessings of -sunshine and pure air. - -{558} - -These stringent measures are unfortunately, for the present, -impracticable, as, should they be carried into effect, two thirds -of the inhabitants of these dens would be thrown upon the streets -without shelter. Space must be found adjacent to the city where -neat and comfortable cottages can be built for the laboring -classes, and transportation of such character provided as will -enable them to reach these abodes in as little time and at as -small an expense as it now consumes to get to their tenant -dwellings. The beautiful shores on the opposite sides of the -Hudson and East rivers must eventually be dotted by the villages -of these working people. It has been reported that a very wealthy -gentleman of our community proposes building a number of such -houses somewhere in the vicinity of New York. To be the projector -of such a philanthropic enterprise would entitle him to the love -and admiration of the people now, while in after-years it would -be pointed out as a monument of his generosity to the struggling -poor. The proposed "Hudson Highland Bridge," the "East River -Bridge," and the tunnel under the East River, all of which, we -hope, will be pressed rapidly to completion, will form the first -of the links which are to bind our Island City to the surrounding -rural districts. The location where the first will span the -Hudson is near Fort Montgomery, in the Highlands; the second is -intended to connect the lower part of the city with Brooklyn; and -the iron tubular tunnel is, as its name indicates, a wrought-iron -tunnel, to be laid at the bottom of the East River; it also is to -connect Brooklyn with New York. In a sanitary point of view, we -think these proposed means for rapid communication between our -island and the neighboring country vie in importance with the -gigantic enterprise which gives us the water of the Croton river -for our daily consumption, and the Central Park for the -recreation and amusement of our pent-up population. Over the East -River Bridge it is intended to run cars by an endless wire rope, -worked by an engine under the flooring on the Brooklyn side. The -minimum rate of speed is put down as twenty miles an hour. It is -such travelling facilities as these structures will afford which -are necessary to enable the workingmen to reach healthful and -salubrious homes outside of the metropolis. We would thus be able -to disgorge the immense surplus of population which it is -impossible for us to accommodate in our midst. - -But while we keep this in our minds as the great ultimatum which -will eventually relieve us, we must in the mean time use every -effort in our power to ameliorate as much as possible the misery -surrounding us. - -Since the establishment of the Board of Health, in March, 1866, -strenuous efforts have been made by that body to remedy the most -glaring defects in the tenant-houses. Nothing could bear better -evidence of the good results effected by the wise sanitary -measures they have adopted than the saving in our mortality rates -during the last year. It has been asserted that "our present code -of health laws are better than those of any other city on this -planet;" and had the commissioners, in the execution of these -laws, been sustained in their laudable efforts for the public -good by the courts of justice, no doubt much more would have been -effected. -{559} -The Sanitary Superintendant, Dr. E. B. Dalton, reports 35,045 -inspections made during the last year; 11,414 of these were in -tenement-houses, 11,473 to yards, cellars, waste-pipes, etc.; the -remainder, to private dwellings, slaughter-houses, establishments -for fat-melting and bone-boiling, stables, piggeries, etc. This -amount of visitations by the sanitary inspectors shows great -activity in their department, and entitles them to much credit. -The evils, however, attending the entire of the present systems -are so numerous that, without a good deal of active legislation, -it is to be feared the root of the trouble cannot be reached. In -the first place, no person should be allowed, in the future, to -build a house to be occupied by more than three or four families, -without its plan of construction being first officially approved -of by an appointed superintendent. This would confine the -sanitary evils, so far as the internal arrangement of tenements -are concerned, to those we now have; and, in the second place, as -Dr. Dalton suggests, the erection of a front and rear tenement on -the same lot should be strictly prohibited. The importance of -these means cannot be overestimated. In addition, many changes -apparently slight in themselves can be effected in the existing -houses, which would materially add to the comfort and chances of -life of the inmates. Miss F. Nightingale says: "It is a fact -demonstrated by statistics, that in the improved dwellings the -mortality has fallen in certain cases from 25 to 14 per 1000; and -that in the common 'lodging-houses,' which have been hot-beds of -epidemics, such diseases have almost disappeared through the -adoption of sanitary measures." One condition probably more -pregnant with disease to the tenants than almost any other is, -that so large a percentage of the water-closets in the tenant -buildings are not connected with the regular sewers. The -consequence is, these places become choked up with accumulations -of filth, and give forth noisome and offensive odors, most -detrimental to health. This alone is sufficient to cause a large -amount of the diarrhoeal diseases which pervade our community -during the hot season with such fatal results. The inspector of -the Fourth Sanitary District, for the Citizens' Association, in -1864, reported "less than 30 per cent of the privies in his -district as being connected with drains or sewers." He also says: -"There is a section of my district, embracing at least nine -blocks, in every part of which the peculiar odor arising from -privies is always distinctly perceptible during the summer -months. From this region fever is never absent. I refer to typhus -and typhoid, for intermittent and remittent fever do not prevail -in this neighborhood, even in the low tract adjoining the river. -Such a gentle fiend as paludal miasma flies affrighted from the -terrific phantoms of disease that reign supreme in this domain of -pestilence." The landlords who grind the last cent of rent -possible from their tenants should be obliged, at least, to do -all in their power to preserve them from palpable occasions of -disease. At a small expense in comparison to the income this -class of property yields, the proper connections with the sewers -could be made, and thus much suffering avoided. - -One great trouble the sanitarian encounters is, the -disinclination of a large portion of this class to adopt habits -of cleanliness. They seem actually to riot in and be proud of -their filthy surroundings. And their example is unfortunately -contagious, as it is known frequently to be the case that where -neat, clean, and respectable families are thrown in contact with -them, they, too, soon degenerate into the same condition. -{560} -"It would be true of many thousands that, if left to the -uncontrolled indulgence of their reckless and filthy habits, they -would convert a palace into a pig-sty, and create 'fever-nests' -and hot-beds of vice and corruption under circumstances most -favorable to health, comfort, and social elevation." [Footnote -172] - - [Footnote 172: Report of Association for Improving the - Condition of the Poor in New York. 1863.] - -This fact, although discouraging, should be but a greater -incentive to keep constantly over them a vigilant sanitary -inspection, to show them the baneful effects of their habits of -living, and to cause a spirit of emulation to assist themselves -in purifying their homes and surroundings. This can be done. -Their "reckless and filthy habits" are, in many instances, but -the indication of a lowered moral and physical status, the result -of the poverty, starvation, and misery they have endured. A -little encouragement, and a constant stimulation as to the right -means to be adopted, would soon cause many of them to overcome -their vitiated and depraved tastes. - -These combined facts, we think, necessitate a thorough house to -house examination of all this character of property in the city, -by competent sanitary persons, so that the Sanitary -Superintendent may know the exact condition of each tenement. -With such knowledge many advantageous improvements could be made -and many nuisances abated, without waiting for a report from -either the occupants or sanitary police, as is now done. This -action is at present rendered more essential as the summer is -coming on, and under the influence of its long, hot days the -animal and vegetable decomposition will make the air putrid with -its "life-destroying exhalations." Our death-rate from the -diarrhoeal, and other miasmatic diseases, will, as usual, run up -to the highest mark; and should cholera get a foothold in the -city, it is questionable if it could be controlled by the Health -Commissioners as readily as it was in the summer of 1866. - -The question, how to deal wisely with the abuse of alcoholic -stimulants, has been earnestly discussed and considered by the -press, by municipal and legislative bodies, from the pulpit, and -also by countless temperance associations, without reaching a -solution of this great problem. Philanthropic efforts are -constantly made to stop the tide of self-destruction without -avail; and the originators of such movements seem all to arrive -at the conclusion that it is impossible to thoroughly restrain -the appetite for strong drinks by any character of laws which may -be enacted. The only resource that remains is to throw around the -trade such restrictions as will confine it to its narrowest -limits. This is to be effected not alone by legislative -enactments, but also by a moral and religious influence. Public -opinion has great weight, and every man who loves the well-being -of his race should frown down this social evil to the utmost of -his power. Ministers of the gospel should persistently teach the -enormity of the ills resulting, as they alone fully know, from -this cause. - -A great many persons think the present laws have no influence in -restraining drunkenness, and that as much liquor is consumed now -as formerly. As a proof of their efficacy, we will give here a -portion of a table, taken from the report of the Excise -Commissioners for last year, comparing the number of arrests for -offences actually resulting from the excessive indulgence in -intoxicating drinks on Sundays, when the rum-sellers were obliged -to keep their glittering shops closed the entire day, and -Tuesdays, when the prohibition applied only to before sunrise. - -{561} - - Months. Year. Days. Arrests. - - March, 1867 5 Sundays, 210 - March, 1867 4 Tuesdays, 471 - April, 1867 4 Sundays, 195 - April, 1867 5 Tuesdays, 480 - May, 1867 4 Sundays, 123 - May, 1867 4 Tuesdays, 380 - -As it is well known that before the enaction of these laws the -arrests on Sunday far exceeded those of any other day in the -week, this should convince the most sceptical of the effect of -the Sunday prohibition. - -The estimated number of vagrant children in this city is nearly -40,000. Forty thousand immortal beings floating, day by day, -toward physical and moral destruction! Throw aside all the -dictates of Christianity, and look upon these children in the -future. According to our free institutions, they will have the -same amount of control over the destinies of the nation as our -own offspring, although the latter may be thoroughly educated to -make good and intelligent citizens. Here we are allowing to be -nurtured the element which, in the riots of 1863, threatened to -deluge the length and breadth of the island with tumult, -conflagration, and bloodshed. Every year, with the constantly -increasing tide of emigration, new material is added to develop -this character at a more rapid rate. Such being the case, -self-protection demands that something be done to give these -children homes and draw them from the pollution surrounding them. -In the lower portion of the city, there are some institutions -intended particularly to take care of these little vagrants, and -they form the only breakwater to this torrent of infantile -depravity. The first of these is the Five Points Mission. This -was established under "An Act," passed in March, 1856, by the -Senate and Assembly of the State of New York, "to incorporate the -Ladies' Home Missionary Society of the Methodist Episcopal -Church." The intentions of the ladies forming this association -are shown in the second paragraph of the above-named act, and -reads: "The objects of said society are, to support one or more -missionaries, to labor among the poor of the city of New York, -especially in the locality known as the 'Five Points;' to provide -food, clothing, and other necessaries for such poor; to educate -poor children and provide for their comfort and welfare; and, for -that purpose, to maintain a school at the Five Points, in said -city, and to perform kindred acts of charity and benevolence." -The "Old Brewery," a most notorious den of infamy, just at the -Five Points, was selected by the association as headquarters for -their missionary labors; and to gather round them here the little -ones of this worst location of the city, to be fed, clothed, and -instructed in the rudimentary English branches, as well as the -Methodist Episcopal faith, became a labor of love. This -enterprise prospered, and now, in place of the "Old Brewery," -stands a large, commodious mission-building. A peculiar feature -in the management is, that entire families are taken in, and -given work of some kind to do, so that it forms a character of -tenant-house. The institution contains some 18 families, -including between 60 and 70 children. One thousand and nineteen -children have been taught during the year in the day-school. -Immediately opposite and facing this is the second of these -institutions, the "Five Points House of Industry." -{562} -This was established under the supervision of the same gentleman -who at first had control of the Five Points Mission, the Rev. L. -M. Pease. Through some misunderstanding, he withdrew from the -mission and founded the House of Industry. His beginning was very -small, and consisted of an effort to obtain work for a number of -unhappy females who desired to escape from their criminal way of -living. His next step was the establishment of a day-school; soon -afterward men and women were employed in making shoes, baskets, -etc. The success of the enterprise was quickly assured, and it -rapidly enlarged its sphere of usefulness. Some time since, the -manufacturing of baskets, shoes, etc., was given up, and it is -now simply a house of refuge, where homeless children are -educated, fed, and clothed. During the winter, a meal was given, -in the middle of the day, to destitute adults. One of the -gentlemen informed us that 325 men and women partook of this meal -daily during the cold weather. The average number of children -given three meals was also 325, making 1300 meals given by this -institution daily. The whole number of children taught here -during the last year was 1289. An interesting feature connected -with this enterprise is the boarding-house which has recently -been established for working-girls. A large tenement-house was -bought, and fitted up in the most complete manner; and here -homeless working-girls can get good, substantial board for three -dollars and a quarter a week. This is of great advantage to these -poor young women, who are overworked at meagre pay, and enables -them to live for about one half the price they would be obliged -to pay for board in a respectable lodging-house. In the internal -arrangements, everything is done to add to the comfort as well as -the mental improvement of the inmates. In the public parlor there -are an organ and a piano, also several sewing-machines. These are -at the disposal of any one in the house, at all times. Two -evenings in the week they have night-school. The Germans teach -their language in exchange for English. The matron states: -"Through the kindness of some publishers, we have 5 daily papers, -12 weeklies, and 4 monthlies. Three daily German papers are sent -us; also a German magazine, published at Leipsic, Germany." Some -six years ago, the third of the houses for this special work was -established at No. 40 New Bowery, by the Rev. W. E. Van Meter. -The Howard Mission (as this establishment is called) far exceeds -the House of Industry in its internal appearance. The latter, -with its massive bare walls and iron gratings resembles more a -prison for culprits than a home for little ones. The former, to -the contrary, is built with a desire to surround the children -with everything that can please and attract them. The assistant -superintendent remarked to us that "their wish had been to make -their mission home more beautiful and enticing than any saloon -could be." The two large halls are neatly finished and -artistically adorned. In the lower one, through the benevolence -of a gentleman, a fountain is constantly playing, several hanging -baskets of moss and evergreens swing from the ceiling, and at the -base of the fountain is a pretty reservoir containing gold-fish. -This institution has received, in six years, 7581 children; and -the March number of the _Little Wanderers' Friend_, -published by this house, states that "for this month (February) -619 children have been fed at its tables, clothed from its -wardrobes, and taught in its schools." -{563} -These houses all have their regular religious services, morning, -noon, and night, with Sunday-schools, singing, and -prayer-meetings. On Sunday mornings, the prisoners from some of -the station-houses, under arrest for disorder and drunkenness the -night previous, are taken to the Howard Mission, and furnished -with coffee and bread, and then, before leaving, they have a -religious discourse preached to them. In addition, these houses -have regular visitors, who call at the homes of those making -complaints, to assist and comfort the sick, and, at the same -time, to find out if the statements given by them are correct. In -order that those not familiar with the workings of such -institutions may see the charitable work these ladies effect, we -extract the first two items from the visitors' diary in the April -number of the _Monthly Record of the Five Points House of -Industry_, 1866: - - "Called on Mrs. L---- , Irish Catholic; is a widow, with two - small boys; tells me she cannot get enough work to support the - family; would be willing to sew, wash, pick hair, or any of the - various female employments, if she could get it. We offered to - feed and clothe her boys if she would send them to our school, - which she readily promised. - - "Visited Mrs. G----, 31 M---- street, Irish Catholic. She lives - in a small attic room, rear building; is a widow, with one - child; has been but a few days out of the hospital; found her - little girl sick with fever; promised to send a doctor and give - her necessary assistance." - -Although these institutions are doing something by their work to -alleviate the condition of a portion of this vast army of 40,000 -stray waifs, still it is most evident that they are utterly -inadequate to provide for more than a small fraction of this -number. It is well known that nearly one half the population of -this city profess to be members of the Roman Catholic religion; -and, to show the great excess of persons belonging to this church -among the lower classes in our city, we extract the following -analysis of a block of buildings from the _Little Wanderers' -Friend_ for March, 1868: "Fifty-nine old buildings occupied by -382 families, in which are 2 Welsh, 7 Portuguese, 9 English, 10 -Americans, 12 French, 39 negroes, 186 Italians, 189 Polanders, -218 Germans, and 812 Irish. Of these, 113 are Protestants, 287 -Jews, and 1062 _Roman Catholics_." - -The Catholic Reformatory in Westchester county, established by -the late Dr. Ives, is doing everything possible for the children -under its control; but the little vagrants, unless arrested for -some petty crime and thus committed to that institution, are not -within reach of its benefits. - -The Rev. F. H. Farrelly, the pastor of St. James's church, has -labored most zealously during the last three years in the cause -of the Catholic children in his immediate vicinity. He has -established a poor-school in the basement of his church, under -the charge of the Sisters of Charity. The average daily -attendance here is 200, and these are furnished with a meal at -noon, in order to facilitate their remaining in the institution -the entire day. During the year, two suits of clothing are -furnished to as many as the good father's means will permit. This -school will be removed to the very elegant five-story -mission-house, now nearly completed, on the corner of James -street and New Bowery. This structure is of brick with freestone -trimmings, and has a front of 111 feet on New Bowery, and 83 feet -on James street. It will be divided into 21 class-rooms. -{564} -This enterprise will take more means for its support than St. -James's parish can possibly furnish, and it deserves and should -have the sympathy and pecuniary assistance of all Catholics. - -It is impossible to calculate the amount of good to be effected -by the establishment of a large home, under the supervision of -the Sisters of Charity or Mercy in this location. These good -ladies are peculiarly adapted to care for the wants of the poor, -the sick, and the afflicted, as they devote all their energies, -according to the intention of their institution, to these classes -of society. And why? Because simply in so doing they fulfil the -wishes of "The Master." Thus their mission is one of love, and to -strictly attend to duty the greatest pleasure of their lives. -This is the solution of their great success in the management of -hospitals, schools, and charitable institutions; and the large -number of their magnificent edifices devoted to these purposes, -found throughout almost every portion of the known world, attest -the success with which God blesses their labors. To these good -sisters the poor emigrants could appeal, without even apparently -denying their religion, for a little sustenance to keep their -miserable bodies from perishing; the sorrow-burdened could -communicate their troubles, confident of a ready sympathy; and to -these the homeless little vagrant could come, knowing a mother's -tender love and gentle forbearance awaited him. In the home a -room should be devoted to the use of mothers--a place where they -could leave their babes to be fed and taken care of for the day. -This would enable poor widows to do washing and other kinds of -work, and thus many could support their families who are now -entirely dependent upon public charity. In addition to the home, -a large farm should be procured near the city, where the children -taken permanently under the care of the institution could be -raised and educated. This is advisable, because, in the first -place, it would be more economical, and secondly, experience -demonstrates that a large body of children do not thrive well in -such establishments when located in cities. We feel confident -there would be no trouble in supporting this home, as the great -Catholic heart always responds liberally to appeals made for the -poor, and in this institution the weight of the burden should be -equally borne by all the Catholics in the city. In addition to -all this, to take care of these little wanderers is a matter of -great import in the light of political economy. They form the -fountain-head from which a large proportion of our criminals are -developed. If they could be made useful members of society, it -would relieve the city of a large proportion of the taxation -which is now necessary to support our various prisons; and the -energy now shown in the commission of crime would become a source -of material wealth to the country. - -There is one other subject we wish to mention before concluding -this paper: it is, the condition of the night-lodgers at the -station-houses. From the report of the Board of Metropolitan -Police, we find that 105,460 persons were accommodated with -lodgings at the various precincts during the last twelve months. -Mr. S. C. Hawley, the very accommodating chief clerk of this -department, informs us that the number this year will be much -greater. Over 100,000 sought refuge in the station-houses, glad -to obtain the bare floor to rest their weary limbs; but how many -pace our streets nightly, poverty-stricken and despairing, but -too proud to seek a shelter in these abodes of crime! It is a -stigma on the fair fame of this great city that, throughout its -length and breadth, there is not one refuge, established by -religious or philanthropic efforts, where the homeless can find -shelter from the wintry night blasts. - -{565} - - "Our beasts and our thieves and our chattels - Have weight for good or for ill; - But the poor are only his image, - His presence, his word, his will; - And so Lazarus lies at our doorstep, - And Dives neglects him still." [Footnote 173] - - [Footnote 173: Proctor.] - -In Montreal, Canada, refuges are connected with the church -property, and are superintended by the female religious orders, -we think more particularly by the Gray Nuns. In 1860, the -Providence Row Night Refuge was established in London, under the -care of the Sisters of Mercy. There is no distinction made as -regards religious creed, and the only requisites necessary for -admission are, to be homeless and of good character. Before -retiring, a half-pound of bread and a basin of gruel are given to -each lodger, and the same in the morning, before they are allowed -to commence another day's efforts to obtain work. What charity -could so directly appeal to our hearts as this? Think how many -men and women arrive daily in this metropolis, in search of -employment! For days they eagerly seek it without success, -hoarding their scanty means to the uttermost. Finally the time -comes when the last dime is spent for bread, and they wander -along, their hearts filled with dread, as night covers the earth -with her sable mantle, knowing not whither they shall turn their -weary steps. Think of the poor woman wending her way through the -pelting storm; garments soaked and clinging to the chilled form; -heart filled with despair, and crying to Heaven for shelter; head -aching, temples throbbing, brain nearly crazed with terror; -finally, crouching down under some old steps to wait the first -gleam of day to relieve her from her agony. If one in such -condition should reach the river-side, what a fearful temptation -it must be to take that final leap which ends for ever earth's -cares and sufferings, or, still worse for the poor female, the -temptation to seek in sin the refuge denied her in every other -way! - - "There the weary come, who through the daylight - Pace the town and crave for work in vain: - There they crouch in cold and rain and hunger, - Waiting for another day of pain. - - "In slow darkness creeps the dismal river; - From its depths looks up a sinful rest. - Many a weary, baffled, hopeless wanderer - Has it drawn into its treacherous breast! - - "There is near _another river_ flowing. - Black with guilt and deep as hell and sin: - On its brink even sinners stand and shudder-- - Cold and hunger goad the homeless in." [Footnote 174] - - [Footnote 174: Proctor.] - -What a mute appeal for such institutions is the case of the -little Italian boy found dead on the steps of one of our Fifth -avenue palaces last winter! Think of this little fellow as he -slowly perished that bitter night, at the very feet of princely -wealth. How his thoughts must have reverted to his dark-browed -mother in her far-off sunny home! And think of that mother's -anguish, her wailing - - "For a birdling lost that she'll never find," - -when she heard of her boy's death, from cold and starvation, in -the principal avenue of all free America! We consider we are safe -in saying that in no other work of charity could a small amount -of money be made to benefit so many as in the founding of these -refuges. In the police report it is recommended that "several of -these be established in different parts of the city, to be under -the supervision of the police." This is a great mistake. These -people always associate station-houses and the police with crime; -consequently it is bad policy for them to come constantly in -contact with either. -{566} -This is the objection to the lodging-rooms used in the various -precincts. Official charity, as a rule, hardens those who dole it -out, and degrades its recipients. - -There are thousands of noble-hearted women attached to our -different churches, who, if they once thoroughly understood this -subject, would not cease their efforts until societies were -established and refuges opened. How could it be otherwise! How -could they nestle their little ones down to sleep in warm, -comfortable beds, and think of God's little ones freezing under -their windows? How could they go to sleep themselves, and feel -that some poor woman was probably wandering past their doorways, -dying from want and exposure? We hope, before the chilling winds -of next November remind us of the immensity of suffering the -winter entails upon the poor, some philanthropic persons will -have perfected this design, and have the refuges in working -order. If such should be the case, the founders will find an -ample reward in the words of Holy Writ, "He that hath mercy on -the poor, lendeth to the Lord: and he will repay him." - -If we could thus, by the adoption of every possible sanitary -precaution, deprive our death-tables of all avoidable mortality; -and by a proper religious influence elevate the moral character -of the people, we should, in the first place, save thousands of -lives, now necessary to develop our vast resources; and, -secondly, our advance toward perfection in healthfulness and -public virtues would go hand in hand with the gigantic strides -being made in the adornment of our beautiful island. Our people -would no longer seek other places in quest of health, as none -more salubrious than New York could be found; and strangers, -instead of saying, as is said of that most beautiful of Italy's -fair cities, "See Naples, and die!" would exclaim, "Go to New -York, and live!" - ----------- - - Wild Flowers. - - - The child, Mercedes, youngest of the three - Whom God has sent me for a mother's crown. - Brought me wild flowers, and with childish glee - Thus prattled on, as at my feet she cast them down: - - "See, mamma! here are saucy flowers I found - Hiding behind the hedge, like boys at play. - Just peeping up their heads above the ground. - To watch if any one should chance to pass that way. - - "'Aha!' said I, 'whose little flowers be you, - And from whose garden have you run away? - Your leaves are dripping with the morning dew. - Fie, naughty things! What, think you, will the gardener say? - -{567} - - "'Come, let me take you to my mamma's home; - And she will put you in a golden vase, - Where you shall stand and look around the room, - And see your pretty, rosy faces in the glass.' - - "I took them softly up, and here they are. - And now, my mamma, I should like to know - Whose garden they have wandered from so far. - And why they did not stay at their own home to grow?" - - I said: "My child, these flowers have never strayed - From any other home. Their place to grow - Is just behind the hedge, down in the glade. - Though no one may their beauty see or sweetness know." - - Then she: "Why, mamma dear, how can that be? - What use for them to grow there all alone? - Why look so pretty if there's none to see? - Or why need they smell any sweeter than a stone?" - - "No one on earth may see," I then replied-- - "No one may know that flowers are blooming there - But God." Mercedes clapped her hands, and cried, - "God's flowers! Oh! keep _them_, mamma, in your book of prayer." - - Methinks the child did choose a fitting place - To put those unnursed blossoms of the field: - Like them, our humble prayers with beauty grace - The heart's rough soil, and unto God their perfume yield. - ------------ - - Translated From The French. - - Faith And Poetry Of The Bretons. - - -The bay of St. Malo is strewn here and there with rocks, upon -which forts have been erected to protect the town by their cross -fires. One of these, the Grand Bé, was formerly armed with -cannon; but the fort is now abandoned, and only recognizable -midst its ruins by the cross at the extremity of the beach, -resting apparently on the blue sky above. To this cross all eyes -are attracted, to this all steps turn, so soon as the breakers -leave a shore of sand and granite for a pathway for the -travellers. - -After having ascended a rough and steep declivity, a naked and -desert plateau is attained, where a few sheep find with -difficulty a herb to browse upon; then a turn through a defile of -rocks, and on the steepest point a stone and cross of granite. -This is the tomb of Chateaubriand. - -{568} - -No longer a poetical tomb; leaning against the Old World, it -contemplates the New; under it, the immense sea, and the vessels -passing at its feet; no flowers, no verdure around it, no other -noise than the incessantly moving sea, covering in its tempests -this naked stone with the froth of its waves. Here he chose his -last resting-place; and we wonder what thought inspired the wish -that not even his name should be inscribed upon his tomb. Was it -pride, or humility that actuated him? To me it appears that this -humility and this pride were from the same source--a perfect -disenchantment with the world. This man, who had proved so many -projects abortive, so many ambitions misplaced; this traveller -who had overrun the universe, visited the East, the cradle of the -Old World, and the deserts of America, where was born the New; -the poet who could count the cycles of his life by its -revolutions, was overwhelmed at the end of it by a sadness that -knew no repose. He, whose youth was preluded by _Considerations -on Revolutions_, so comprehended life in his latter years as -to write _The Biography of the Reformer of La Trappe_. The -silence and solitude of the cloister were in harmony with the -sadness of his soul. Having been charged with the most important -missions, having accomplished the highest employments, and set to -work the most skilful and powerful men, he retired from the -whirling circle of the world, penetrated with the overpowering -truth, how little man is worth, how little he knows, and how -seldom he succeeds in what he undertakes. The usual source of -joy--pride, the intoxication of the world--only provoked in him a -smile; for all men he had the same contempt--did not even except -himself--and knew well, according to the ancient proverb, that -there is very little difference between one man and another. -[Footnote 175] - - [Footnote 175: Thucydides.] - -Through humility, then, he cared not for any inscription on his -tomb, not even a name. What mattered it who read it! Men were -nothing, and he was one of them! But through pride also, he chose -this naked stone. Travellers would come from all parts of the -world, they would contemplate it and say, _Chateaubriand!_ -His name would be echoed by the waves that came from, and those -that parted for, distant shores; and men were obliged to know -where he lay. - -Thus--ever-recurring instability of the human soul!--in him were -united the most contrary sentiments--the disenchantment of glory, -and the belief in the immortality of a name; the disdain of -scepticism, and the thirst for applause; the impression of the -Christian's humility, and an instinct of sovereign pride. - -Here, however, we find truth: this cross, the sign of eternity on -this stone marked by death, is the immutable testimony of the -emptiness of human pride. Chateaubriand desired only a cross on -his tomb, while Lamennais, his compatriot, rejected it: both -obedient to the same preoccupation, in negation as in faith. The -cross, dominating the tomb where the Breton poet reposes, is the -symbol of the genius of his country, of Catholic Brittany. - -Faith, in Brittany, has a particular character, allied to a -poetry peculiar to Breton genius. In this country material -objects speak; the very stones are animated, and the fields -assume a voice to reveal the soul of man conversing with his God. -This is not imagination; no one can be deceived in it. So soon as -one enters Brittany, the physiognomy of the country changes, and -the sign of this change is the cross. On all the roads, at all -the public places, is raised the cross; of every epoch from the -twelfth to the nineteenth century we find them, and of every -form. -{569} -There, simple crosses of granite raised on a few steps; here, -crosses bearing on each side the image of Christ and the Virgin, -rude sculptures in themselves, but always impressed with a -sincere sentiment. The Bretons not only understand the tenderness -of the Blessed Virgin, but they feel her grief; they share it -with her, and express it with an energetic truth. Look at the -picture of the Virgin holding her dead son on her knees, in the -church of St. Michael at Quimperlé. It is a primitive painting by -an unskilled hand, and one totally ignorant of the resources of -art; the design of it is incorrect; yet what an expression of -grief! The painter wished to portray the living suffering of the -mother; the mouth is distorted, the eyes are fixed, the pupil -seems alone indicated: yet this fixedness of look seizes upon -you; you stop, you remain to examine it, you forget that it is a -representation, and see the Virgin herself, immovable in her -grief, with no power to express her sorrow; petrified, yet -living. - -At one side, leaning against the wall, is a statue of the Virgin, -conceived with as contrary a sentiment as possible. She is all -tenderness and delicacy, and has a leaning attitude, the head -inclined, with the gentle look of the Mother who calls the sinner -to her side. Her robe falls in numberless plaits, her mantle -envelops her with a harmonious grace; for she is no longer the -Mother of sorrow, but the sweet consoler of human kind, holding -her Son in her arms, whom she presents to bless the earth, -_Notre Dame de Bot Scao_, The Virgin of Good News. - -The faith of sailors in the Blessed Virgin is well known, that of -the Breton sailors particularly. At Brest, we look in vain for a -museum of pictures. Brest is not a city of art; it breathes of -war; the port, filled with large ships, the arsenal and its -cannon, its shells, its gigantic anchors, the forts built on the -rocks, the animated movement of the streets, where soldiers of -all kinds go and come, and sailors constantly arriving from all -parts of the world, give to it an air of intense reality--a -character at once powerful and precise. Man has built on the rock -his granite home, and we may believe it is immovably established. - -But ascend the steps that lead from the lower to the upper town, -and under a vault you will find four pictures appended to the -wall. Here is the museum of Brest. Sea pictures dedicated to the -Blessed Virgin, the departure of the vessel, women and children -on the beach on their knees during a tempest, the vessel tossed -by the waves, and the arms of the sailors extended to heaven; and -on their return, the rescued sailors, bending their steps, with -tapers in their hands, toward the chapel of Notre Dame; and -underneath, touching legends, cries of the soul that implores, -humbles itself, or renders thanks. _Holy Virgin, save us! Holy -Virgin, protect those who are now at sea!_ Man we see in his -weakness, his aspirations, and his hopes--the true man; the rest -was but the mask. - -They seize every opportunity and use every pretext to testify -their faith. At Saint Aubin d'Aubigné between Rennes and Saint -Malo, you go along a tufted hedge; you see a cross cut of -thorn--a cross which grows green in the spring, among the -eglantines and roses. [Footnote 176] - - [Footnote 176: At St. Vincent les Redon, a tree is cut in the - form of the cross.] - -You return to visit the land of Carnac--a land so pale and -desolate, where the standing stones are squared by thousands, -gigantic and silent sphinxes that for twenty centuries have kept -their impenetrable secret--what is that cross that rises on an -eminence? -{570} -One that they have planted on an isolated ruin in the land--a -cross on a Druidical altar, and before the army of stones which -mark, perhaps, a cemetery of a great people. - -Elsewhere, at the cross-way of a road near Beauport, a spring -gushes out and flows among the rocks, forming both basin and -fountain on the heaped-up stones; in an arched niche is enclosed -a Virgin crowned with flowers; all around, the field -morning-glory, the periwinkle, and the eglantine have peeped -through the moss and herbs, and enlaced the rustic chapel with -their flowery festoons, and fallen again on the infant Jesus. -Opposite lie fields of green thorn-broom, and above their long, -slender stalks appear the half-destroyed walls of an ancient -abbey, roofless, opened to heaven, and silent. Through the -blackened arches appears the blue sea, whose prolonged and -incessant roaring fills the air. - -In this Catholic country _par excellence_, all the churches -are remarkable. There is no village, however small, of which the -church does not form an interesting part; and here and there, as -at Guérande and Vitré, we find the beautifully carved pulpits -enclosed in the wall, from which the missionary fathers, on -certain extraordinary occasions, speak to the people assembled in -the square. At Carnac and Rennescleden we have the arched roofs -so exquisitely painted; at Roscoff, Crozon, and elsewhere, -medallions of stone and wood framing the altar with quaint gilded -sculptures; then, again, we meet with a tabernacle formed for an -architectural monument, a sort of palace in miniature, with its -wings, pavilions, columns, domes, galleries, and statues, (as at -Rosporden;) then an antique confessional greets us in a little -chapel near Chateaulin, and a canopy sculptured in wood or even -crystal, at Landivisiau. An odd ornament, which is found in only -one church--that of Notre Dame de Comfort, on the way to the Bec -du Raz--is called _the wheel of good fortune_, and is -composed of a large wheel suspended from the roof of the church, -and entirely surrounded by bells. On days of solemn feasts, for -baptisms and weddings, the wheel is turned, and, agitating all -the bells at once, forms a noisy chime, which times the march of -the procession, and adds a joyous and silver-toned accompaniment -to the voices of the young girls chanting the canticles to the -Blessed Virgin. Finally, we meet with one of those trunks of -trees, large squared pillars of oak, encircled with heavy bands -of iron, and placed in the middle of the church, by the side of a -catafalque of blackened wood, but sowed with whitened tears; the -trunk and the coffin, emblems of the fragility of life, and the -Christian principle above all others, charity. - -The churches in the towns are truly _chefs-d'oeuvres_, the -cloisters of Tréguier and Pont l'Abbé, for example, where the -arcades are so light and so finely carved; or the -_bas-reliefs_ inside the portal of Sainte Croix, at -Quimperlé, a vast page of sculptured stone, finished with the -delicacy and richness of invention, the charming qualities of -youth and of the _Renaissance_. Then, in all these churches, -near the altar, you perceive immediately the painted statue of -the parish saint, one of the Breton saints, not found -elsewhere--Saint Cornély, Saint Guénolé. Saint Thromeur, Saint -Yves especially. -{571} -Saint Yves has the privilege of being represented in almost all -the churches, even in those of which he is not patron; the -remembrance of this great, good man, this wise priest, this -incorruptible judge, is indelibly impressed on the heart of every -Breton. Sometimes he is seen in his judge's robe, his cap on his -head, and listening to two litigants, one in red velvet, -embroidered in gold, with his grand wig, his silken stockings, -and sword; the other, the poor peasant, all in rags, holes on his -knees and his elbows, and naked feet in his wooden shoes. The -great lord, with his cap on his head, and an air of pride, -presents the saint a purse of gold; the peasant, with timid look -and attitude, his head bent down, his cap in his hand, humbly -awaits his sentence. He has nothing to give, but justice will not -fail him. Saint Yves turns toward him with a gracious smile, and, -handing him the judgment written on parchment, lets him know it -is his. And thus the history of the middle ages: the church -protecting the peasant, the weak against the powerful and the -strong. - -As to monuments, properly called, nowhere can we find more of -these beautiful churches of the middle ages, testimonies of the -piety, the science, and the taste of so glorious an epoch. Here, -the Cathedral of Dol, of the best day of Gothic art--the -thirteenth century--imposing by its massiveness, its grandeur, -and the noble simplicity of its ornaments and the harmony of its -proportions, the granite of whose towers, in the lapse of ages, -is permeated with the air of the sea, has a color of rust, we -might say built with iron; there, Tréguier and its exquisite -wainscoting, benches, altars, stalls, pulpit in brilliant black -oak, carved in such fine and delicate designs, with inexhaustible -variety; not a baluster alike, enough models to furnish the -entire sculpture of our time; and further on, Saint Pol de Leon -and its spire of granite; daring and easy, a prodigy of -equilibrium, immovable, girded with open galleries like graceful -crowns, flinging to heaven its tiny sharpened bells; so -beautifully carved, so aerial, the joy of Brittany, as well it -may be, its legitimate pride; then Folgoat, a little unknown -village north of Brest, lost at the extremity of the isle, and -necessary to leave one's route to see it; but even here, two -Breton princes, the Duke Jean III. and the Duchess Anne, have -constructed a royal church accumulating all that Gothic art in -its richest ornamentation, united to the most ingenious caprices -of the _Renaissance_, could have imagined of delicacy and -brightness; portraits sculptured, statues of the finest style -reflecting their antiquity, a richly Gothic and carved choir, and -a gallery--one of those graceful and original monuments of -Catholicism so seldom met with--of lace-work, where trefoils, -roses, and foliage are carved in indestructible blue granite. The -hammer of the Revolution has only knocked off small pieces of -these beautifully carved stones. They resisted the passions of -men, as they have defied the action of time. - -With the bells, of such varied forms, and the vessels for holy -water, we will conclude. - -These bells are of every style--of the _Renaissance_, the -Roche-Maurice-les-Landerneau, of Landivisiau, of Ploaré, of -Pontcroix, and of Roscoff. Many are hung with smaller and lighter -bells and ornamented with two-story balustrades, like the -minarets of the East; then the coverings, spires as they are -called, are like that of Tréguier, open, that the winds of the -sea may pass through them, and adorned with crosses, roses, -little windows, cross-bars, and stars like the cap of a magician. - -{572} - -The vessels for holy water also express the character of the age. -At Dinan, in a church of the twelfth century, an enormous massive -tub is supported by the large iron gauntlets of four chevaliers; -the old crusader dress, armed _cap-a-pie_ in the service of -Christ. In a church of the fifteenth century, at Quimper, is one -of an entirely opposite character--a small column, around which a -vine is entwined, and above an angel, who, with wings extended, -appears as if it had descended from heaven to alight upon the -consecrated cup. Again, and as if inspired by a still more -Christian sentiment, we find the exterior vessels for holy water, -so common everywhere in Brittany, of which the most remarkable -are at Landivisiau, at Morlaix, and Quimperlé. The interior ones -seem only accessories; the exterior, isolated before the door, -have a more precise signification: they solicit the first impulse -of the soul; the Christian, in stretching out his hand toward the -blessed vase, pauses, and prepares his heart for the coming -devotion. - -How well these Breton architects have understood religion! These -exterior vases are living monuments, little pulpits, with their -emblems, symbols, and heads of angels enveloped in their wings. -Their canopies, prominent, sculptured, and under them, standing -and always smiling, our blessed Mother, who seems to invite the -faithful to enter the house of prayer. And prayer, as some one -has said, is the fortress of life. The Breton people believe and -pray: a hidden power is theirs--religion; its effectiveness -attesting not only its existence, but its life. - ---------- - - Sayings Of The Fathers Of The Desert. - - -Abbot Pastor said: He who teacheth something and doth it not -himself, is like unto a well which filleth and cleanseth all who -come to it, but is unable to cleanse itself of filth and -impurities. - - - -A brother asked Abbot Pastor the meaning of the words: He who is -angry with his brother without cause. He answered: If in all -cases where thy brother wisheth to put thee down thou art angry -with him, even though thou pluck out thy right eye and cast it -from thee, thy anger is without cause. If however, any one -desireth to separate thee from God, then mayest thou be angry. - - - -Abbot Pastor said: Malice never driveth away malice; but, if -anyone shall have done thee an injury, heap benefits upon him, so -that by thy good works thou destroy his malice. - - - -A brother came to Abbot Pastor, and said: Many thoughts enter my -mind, and I am in great danger from them. Then the old man sent -him out into the open air, and said: Spread out thy garment and -catch the wind. But he answered that he could not. If thou canst -not do this, replied the old man, neither canst thou put a stop -to these thoughts; but it is thy duty to resist them. - - - -Abbot Pastor said: Experiments are useful, for by them men become -more perfect. - ------------ - -{573} - - - New Publications - - - - Discussions in Theology. - By Thomas H. Skinner, - Professor in the Union Theological Seminary. - New York: Anson D. F. Randolph, 770 Broadway. - - Hints on the Formation of Religious Opinions. - Addressed especially to young men and women of - Christian education. - By Rev. Ray Palmer, D.D., - Pastor of the First Congregational church, - Albany. Same publisher. - -These two volumes are very much alike in their general scope and -character. Both are written in a calm, philosophical style, and -with the praiseworthy view of presenting the claims of the -Christian religion on the reason and conscience of men, combating -scepticism, and removing difficulties and objections derived from -the infidel literature of the day. Professor Skinner begins with -a very good essay on miracles as the basis of a reasonable, -historical belief in the teaching which they authenticate, and -then proceeds to develop his own views respecting certain special -topics which he can assume will be admitted by his particular -audience to be contained in that teaching. These relate chiefly -to the mode by which fallen man may obtain restoration to the -divine favor through the Redeemer of our race. The author's -object is to show that this mode, as explained by himself, -exhibits the attributes of God in a manner consonant to the -dictates of reason and the truths of natural theology, and is one -by which any sincere, well-intentioned person can make sure of -obtaining grace from God, pardon and eternal life. The author's -view is that of the new school of Calvinists, which is a great -improvement on that of the old school in a moral, though not in a -logical, sense. Such preaching and writing as that of Professor -Skinner must have a good influence on those who still believe in -Christianity and know no other form of it than the Presbyterian. -It puts forward the goodness and mercy of God, and encourages the -sinner to hope for grace and pardon, if he will be diligent in -prayer, meditation, and other pious exercises, and this appears -to have been the practical end proposed to himself by the author -in this volume. Dr. Palmer's essays are more elaborate and -consecutive in their character, and aim more immediately at -satisfying the intelligence. He first portrays in a clear and -impressive manner the evils of scepticism, and then proceeds to -exhibit the evidence of the truths of natural theology and of the -fact of a divine revelation, which is also accomplished with a -considerable degree of ability and force. The result at which he -aims is to convince his readers that they are morally bound to -recognize Christianity as true, and to form some definite -opinions as to its real meaning, which may serve them as a -practical rule and guide for attaining their eternal destiny. The -capital defect in his argument is, that he reduces the evidence -of the being of God to mere probability, thus leaving the mind -where Kant left it, in a state of scientific scepticism with no -better basis of certainty than the practical reason. Of course, -then, he has nothing more to propose under the name of Christian -doctrines than probable opinions. No doubt, it is obligatory on -all to act upon opinions which are solidly probable in regard to -the momentous interests of the soul, where there are no other -equal probabilities to balance them, and no greater certainty is -attainable. We deny, however, emphatically that man is left in -this state by the Christian revelation. The being of God is a -metaphysical certainty. The fact of revelation is a moral -certainty, reducible in the last analysis to a certainty which is -metaphysical and sufficient to produce an absolute assent of the -mind without any fear of the contrary. -{574} -The articles of faith proposed by the revelation of God ought to -have the same certainty, since it is necessary to believe them -without doubting. Our respected authors cannot propose a -reasonable motive for believing all the doctrines of their sect -or school without any doubt, but can only propose opinions more -or less probable, or even directly contrary to reason. We do not -think, therefore, that they will be able to satisfy the reason of -any person who thinks logically that their theories of -Christianity are true and complete. The most they can do is to -breed an anxious desire to find out with certainty what -Christianity is and to attain to a rational faith. - ----- - - Celebrated Sanctuaries of the Madonna. - By Rev. J. Spencer Northcote, D.D., - President of St. Mary's College, Oscott. - For sale by the Catholic Publication Society, New York. - -This is a valuable contribution to Catholic literature, and -presents a subject of interest not only to Catholics, but to the -public at large; for great public facts are always of interest, -whatever may be our opinion in regard to their significance. A -clear and full account is given in this book of the principal -facts connected with the origin of some of the sanctuaries of the -Madonna in Europe, particularly of the Holy House of Loreto and -the recently established pilgrimage of La Salette in France. We -do not see how any one can read it and resist the conviction that -God has, by his own finger, established and maintained the -devotion of the faithful at these holy places. It is easy enough -to cry superstition, and to call everything supernatural -superstitious. But the evidence of facts speaks for itself, and -we commend this book to the candid reader, confident of his -favorable judgment in spite of all preconceived opinions, as able -to speak for itself. We have, moreover, found it most attractive, -and have read it from beginning to end with unflagging interest. -It is calculated to quicken the faith of the dumb Christian, open -his eyes to the unseen world, and fill his heart with desire for -virtue and the love of God, and, as well, to produce in the mind -of the careless a deeper conviction of the truth of spiritual -things, which may make him set less value on the present, and -prize more highly the world to come. We hope this book may -attract attention and be widely circulated. - ------ - - Notes on the Rubrics of the Roman Ritual: - Regarding the Sacraments in general. - Baptism, the Eucharist, and Extreme Unction. - By Rev. James O'Kane, Senior Dean, - St. Patrick's College, Maynooth. - New York: The Catholic Publication House. - 1 vol. crown 8vo, pp. 527. 1868. - -This is one of the most excellent commentaries upon the Ritual -that has come under our notice. The reverend author has for -several years delivered lectures upon the Rubrics to the senior -class of theological students in Maynooth, and the substance of -these lectures is to be found in the present volume. That he is -eminently qualified for such a difficult task, is apparent from -the thoroughly practical as well as theoretical knowledge he -displays in treating of the administration of the sacraments. - -Priests on the mission will find the book one of the most useful -works for reference on the subjects treated of which can be found -in the English language. - -It has been examined by the Sacred Congregation of Rites, and -received its approbation, and can, therefore, be consulted and -followed with confidence as good authority. - ------- - - Appleton's Annual Cyclopedia for 1867. - -This valuable work appears to receive more care and attention -each year. The present volume is of unusual importance on account -of the political events in our own country and elsewhere, bearing -on the ultimate destiny of the Christian world, which are -recorded in its pages. -{575} -It contains, also, a very fair statement of the history and -present condition of the Pope's temporal dominion, and of the -principal events in the history of the Catholic Church during the -year. In the article on the "Roman Catholic Church," it is -incorrectly stated that the Council of Florence is by some -regarded as oecumenical. It is universally regarded as -oecumenical, and was one of the most important councils ever held -in the church. The Patriarch of Constantinople, the Greek -Emperor, the representatives of the other Eastern patriarchs and -of the Russian Church, and a number of other Eastern prelates -were present, and discussed all their causes of difference with -the Roman Church during thirteen months, after which they signed -the Act of Union, and united in a solemn definition of the -supremacy of the Pope. - -The Council of Basle is enumerated among the certain oecumenical -councils, although all its acts from the twenty-fifth session -have been condemned, and none of those of the prior sessions -approved, by the Holy See. Although a few Galilean writers have -maintained that this council was oecumenical during its earlier -sessions, their opinion is generally rejected and is of no -weight. - ------- - - Red Cross; or, Young America in England and Wales. - By Oliver Optic. - Boston: Lee & Shepard. - -This volume, the third of the series published under the title of -_Young America Abroad_, continues and concludes the travels -and adventures of the naval cadets on British soil and in British -waters. London, Liverpool, Manchester, the Isle of Wight, the -Lake District, Snowdon, the Menai Straits, etc., are visited, -affording an opportunity for the introduction of a great deal of -miscellaneous information regarding the physical geography and -history of many interesting localities. So far the book is -unexceptionable. The adventures of the students, however, are, in -Oliver Optic's usual style, exaggerated to the very verge of -credibility; and though they will doubtless be relished by the -class for which they are written, we no less decidedly think -that, as mental food for youth, the selection is not the most -judicious, and that the author could very easily, with equal -credit to himself and greater benefit to his juvenile readers, -serve up something else more nutritious, if less palatable, or -not so highly seasoned. As regards the students themselves, it -seems to us, also, that the author has not yet hit upon the -golden mean: the good boys are almost too good, the bad equally -untrue to nature. Our experience with boys--and it is by no means -slight or superficial--tends to prove that with those who, from -an indisposition to submit to an "iron rule," are commonly known -as "wild," such impatience of restraint generally springs from -exuberant animal spirits, and is seldom, if ever, met with in -connection with meanness, much less vice. _Per contra_, the -greatest sycophants are, as a rule, the meanest and most -depraved. - ------- - - Chaudron's New Fourth Reader. - On an Original Plan. - By A. De V. Chaudron. - Mobile: W. G. Clark & Co. Pp. 328. 1867. - -Exteriorly, this book presents a by no means pleasing appearance; -hence, the greater our surprise, and, we may add, our pleasure, -at the variety and excellence of its contents, in which respect -it is nowise inferior to any of those in use in our public -schools. While we cannot expect for Mrs. Chaudron's Series of -_Readers_ an extended circulation in this city, in view of -so many and generally deserving rivals already firmly established -amongst us, we do with confidence recommend them, if in their -general features they resemble this, the only one of the series -submitted to us. - --------- - -{576} - - Imitation of Christ - Spiritual Combat - Treatise on Prayer. - Boston: P. Donahoe. Pp. 816. 1868. - -Decidedly opposed to small type in books of a religious or -educational character, we can cheerfully overlook its use in this -instance, giving us, as it does, complete in one volume and in -bulk not exceeding the average size of prayer-books, three such -admirable devotional works. - ------- - - Irish Homes and Irish Hearts. - By Fanny Taylor, author of - _Eastern Hospitals, Tyborne, - Religious Orders,_ etc., etc. - Boston: Patrick Donahoe. Pp. xi. 215. - -The original work, of which this volume is a very neat reprint, -was favorably mentioned in _The Catholic World_ for -September, 1867. Hence we need not enter into details. It is -enough to say that the author, leaving the beaten track of -ordinary tourists, devoted herself to the visitation and -inspection of the various charitable and religious institutions -of Ireland, the number and excellence of which amply vindicate -"the warmth of Irish hearts and the depth of Irish faith." This -volume gives the result of her examination. It unfolds not a new, -but to many an unexpected, phase of Irish character, and will -well repay a perusal, from which few can rise without being -benefited thereby. - ------- - - Choice of a State of Life. - By Father C. G. Rossignoli, S. J. - Translated from the French, - 1 vol. 16mo, pp. 252. - Baltimore: John Murphy & Co. 1868. - -This is a well-reasoned little treatise on vocations, or the -choice of a state of life, an important matter too little thought -of in our day, when material things have the upper hand, and -spiritual things are made of so little account. Many, no doubt, -fitted by their talents and called by an interior voice to the -priesthood or the religious state, neglect the call; and others -again, quite unfit, thrust themselves forward, allured by some -prospect of worldly advancement. This little book clearly exposes -the motives which should govern us in the choice of a state of -life. If read in a calm and undisturbed state of mind, we do not -doubt it will do a great deal of good, and induce many to embrace -the better part which shall not be taken away from them. - ------- - - Margaret: A Story of Life in a Prairie Home. - By Lyndon. - New York: Charles Scribner & Co. 1868. - -A pleasantly told story of everyday life. The interest in the -narrative is well sustained throughout; the incidents natural, -yet effectively introduced; and the characters strongly marked -and sufficiently diversified. "Life in a prairie home," however, -if here faithfully described, differs materially from what it is -generally supposed to be. The incidents are such as to be equally -possible in any village in any one of the original thirteen -states. - ------- - - Elinor Johnston: Founded on Facts; and - Maurice and Genevieve, or - The Orphan Twins of Beauce. - Philadelphia: Peter F. Cunningham. Pp. 136. - -Two charming stories for children, tastefully got up, if we -except an occasional inequality in the pages and carelessness in -typography, which we hope to see avoided in future volumes. There -is no reason why books intended for children should not be as -creditable in appearance as those for adults. That this can be -done is proved by the beautifully uniform series just issued by -the Catholic Publication Society. - ------- - - Books Received. - -From John Murphy & Co., Baltimore: - - The First-Class Book of History, designed for - pupils commencing the study of history, with - questions; adapted to the use of academies - and schools. - By M. J. Kerney, A.M., author of Compendium - of Ancient and Modern History, Columbian - Arithmetic, etc., etc., etc. - Twenty-second revised edition. - Enlarged by the addition of Lessons in - Ancient History, - 1 vol. 16mo, pp. 335. - ----- - -From P. O'Shea, New York: - - O'Shea's Popular Juvenile Library. - First series. 12 vols., illustrated. - - -------------- - -{577} - - The Catholic World. - - Vol. VII., No. 41.--August, 1868. - ----- - - A New Face On An Old Question. - - -A few months ago I described a visit which I had recently paid to -a friend of mine in the country, and repeated a little of the -conversation we then had together upon subjects especially -interesting to Catholics. [Footnote 177] - - [Footnote 177: See _The Catholic World_, March, 1868; - article, "Canada Thistles."] - -I was so well pleased with what I saw and heard on that occasion -that I resolved to spend a few more days with him; and last -month, as soon as the warm weather set in, I presented myself one -evening at his hospitable door, valise in hand, and was soon -comfortably installed as a guest. If I found his house an -embodiment of domestic comfort during the winter, it was still -more delightful, now that the lawn and meadows wore the brilliant -green of early summer, and the prairie-roses, climbing over the -great, roomy piazza, shook down perfume into the open windows, -and drew around the place the ceaseless song of bees and the whir -of the restless little humming-bird. The library which had -charmed me so much when the blazing wood-fire shed a ruddy glow -of comfort over the bookshelves and the big writing-table, and -the tempting arm-chairs, was a thousand times more attractive, -now that green branches and bunches of roses filled the -old-fashioned fire-place, and windows, open to the floor, let in -the breath of new-mown hay, while creepers and honeysuckles kept -off the glare of the sun, and waved gently in and out with the -south-west breeze. Here we used to sit and chat on warm -afternoons, and our conversation generally turned upon the -religious topics in which we were both so much interested. One -day we were talking about the great improvement of late in the -style of discussion on the Catholic question. "We don't hear so -much of the old slanders," said my friend, "but there is rather -an inquiry into the reasons of our success and the best methods -to meet us. Whenever that inquiry is conducted honestly and -thoroughly, it is found that the only way to meet us is, to come -over boldly to our side and fight under our banner. As an -illustration of what I have said," continued he, picking up a -pamphlet from the table, "take this sermon on 'Christ and the -Common People,' by the Rev. Mr. Hinsdale, a Protestant clergyman, -of Detroit. He states the subject of his discourse boldly enough: -'We start,' he says, 'with the _confessed failure of -Protestantism_ to control spiritually the lives, and to mould -religiously the characters, of the millions. -{578} -What are the reasons?' He declares that Protestantism has -scarcely won a foot of ground from Romanism in more than two -hundred years. 'Geographically, it is where it was at the close -of the century in which Luther died. Neither is Protestantism -stronger religiously or politically than it was in the -seventeenth century; some deny that it is as strong' Nor can it -be claimed that it is now making any material gains in any of -these directions.' Again: 'In the Protestant countries, no ground -has been wrested from false religion or irreligion within a -hundred years;' and in the principal American cities the -Protestant denominations are unquestionably losing ground. There -is good authority for stating that in Cincinnati, for instance, -the communicants in the Protestant churches are fewer by two -thousand than they were twenty years ago; yet the population of -the city has increased during the interval by something like a -hundred thousand. Well, Mr. Hinsdale being, as I should judge, a -gentleman of common sense and honesty, does not try to relieve -his mind from the pressure of these disagreeable facts by cursing -the Catholics, but sets himself to work to find out the reasons -for the greater prosperity of our church. I need not read them to -you; for of course the great reason of all--the assistance of -Heaven--he does not perceive; but he makes some significant -admissions. He tells his people that Catholicism is the especial -religion of the poor, and that Protestantism is restricting -itself daily more and more closely to the rich; and he quotes a -saying of Theodore Parker's: '_If the poor forsake a church, it -is because the church forsook God long before._' I am a -Protestant of the Protestants,' Mr. Hinsdale adds, 'but have no -hesitation in affirming that in some particulars we should stand -rebuked before Romanists this hour; none in declaring that in -some respects the Romish priest understands the methods of Christ -better than the evangelical preacher.' Now, when the alarm of -Protestants at the increase of our churches takes such a form as -this, I believe that good results must flow from it." - -"No doubt you are right," said I; "but I am afraid few of the -anti-popery preachers are like this gentleman of Detroit. Here, -for example, is an address, delivered at the last anniversary of -the American and Foreign Christian Union, by the Rev. Dr. -Talmadge, of Philadelphia. He begins with the admission that the -cause of popery is still flourishing, 'although in the attempt to -destroy it there has been expended enough ink, enough voice, -enough genius, enough money, enough ecclesiastical thunder, to -have torn off all the cassocks, and to have extinguished all the -wax candles, and to have poured out all the holy water, and to -have rent open all the convents, and to have turned the Vatican -into a Reformed Dutch church, and the convocation of cardinals -into an old-fashioned prayer-meeting, and to have immersed the -pope, and sent him forth as a colporteur of the American and -Foreign Christian Union. But somehow there has been a great waste -of effort. The plain fact is,' he continues, 'that Romanism has -to-day, in the United States, tenfold more power than when we -first began to bombard it.' -{579} -And the moral he draws from this survey of the situation is, that -the Protestants had better 'change their style of warfare,' and -introduce into the fight the principle of holy love, and the -example of charity and devotion. Nothing could be more sensible -than this remark of his: 'Bitter denunciation on the part of good -but mistaken men never pulled down one Roman Catholic church, but -has built five hundred. There is only one way to make a man give -up his religion, and that is by showing him a better.' Brave -words, you say, and so they are. Yet this very sermon is full of -just the sort of bitter denunciation which the preacher -denounces. The whole address is a condemnation of the speaker -himself--one of the finest pieces of unconscious satire I ever -read. I don't believe _The Observer_ itself could do the -raw-head and bloody-bones business better than Dr. Talmadge does -it." - -"Never mind. Get these people to admit the principle of honest -and gentlemanly dealing in religious controversy, and you may -leave their practice to reform itself. For one man who was -impressed by Dr. Talmadge's swelling invectives, I make little -doubt that there were five who carried away in their hearts his -advice to be charitable, courteous, and just. The English -Nonconformist preacher, Newman Hall, who travelled through the -United States recently, told his congregation on his return home -that one of the greatest dangers of Protestantism nowadays was -injustice toward Roman Catholics. I am afraid that his advice was -not much relished in England, for you know injustice to Catholics -is one of the pet foibles of Englishmen; but it is not so bad -here. The American people are naturally fond of fair play. You -have only to convince them that a certain course of conduct is -unjust, and they will change it of their own accord." - -"Do you mean to say, then, that you believe reason and logic are -henceforth to supersede violence and slander in the discussion of -the Catholic problem?" - -"Not entirely, of course. But I believe that falsehoods are -rapidly losing their efficacy in polemics, and that Protestants -recognize this fact and are preparing to adapt themselves to the -altered conditions of the conflict. And I do not mean to -insinuate that as a class they do this merely from policy. Most -of them probably used to believe the old standard lies; at least, -they did not _dis_believe them. They repeated them by rote, -because they had been brought up to do so, and they never thought -of stopping to inquire into their authority. Now that the -slanders have ceased to serve a purpose, it is naturally easier -to convince those who used to profit by them that they _are_ -slanders. What I mean to say is, that the tendency of our time is -toward fairness and good sense in religious disputes. You and I, -for example, are quite young enough to remember when 'Romanism' -was popularly regarded as an unknown horror, no more to be -tolerated than the plague or the yellow fever. It was not thought -to be a question open for debate. A Protestant would no more have -dreamed of examining the merits of popery than the merits of -hydrophobia. But now it is a very common thing for our -adversaries to admit that we have done wonderful service to -humanity in our day; that in some particulars we have done and -are still doing more than any other denomination; only we belong -to a past age and ought now to give way to fresher organizations. -{580} -I remember a rather striking sermon which I read in a Detroit -newspaper, the other day, on the 'irrepressible conflict' between -Catholicism and Liberalism, by the Rev. Mr. Mumford, a Unitarian -clergyman. The greater part of the discourse was as illiberal as -anything could be. Mr. Mumford saw in the Catholic Church a -tremendous engine of oppression, and thought it was scheming to -get control of the negroes in the Southern States, and through -them to direct the politics of the whole country--" - -"He saw no danger in the great influence which Methodism has -acquired over the colored people, did he?" - -"No; and he forgot to mention that the Catholic Church is almost -the only one in America which has never been tainted by the -intrusion of politics. Well, I was going on to say that, with all -Mr. Mumford's prejudices and absurdities, he had the honesty to -acknowledge that the Catholic Church is really entitled to the -gratitude of mankind, and declared that he was glad it had -secured some foothold in America, 'to act as a restraint upon the -intolerance of the Protestant churches.'" - -"I am afraid that you rather exaggerate the importance of -admissions like these. They are so often made merely for -rhetorical effect! They are little patches of light artfully -thrown into the picture to heighten the effect of the shadows." - -"I know that I don't refer to them as proofs of a willingness to -examine the nature and grounds of Catholic doctrine, though I -believe that there is much more of such willingness than there -used to be, but as an evidence that a spirit of fairness and -good-breeding is beginning to prevail in religious controversy; -and from that spirit I cannot but expect good results." - -"So far I have no doubt you are right; and one of the good -results, it seems to me, must be the gradual extinction (or -possibly the reform) of denominational newspapers of the old -bludgeon-school. _The Observer_ must go out of fashion -whenever reason comes in. There will be no room for the religious -brawlers when those who differ in creed learn to talk over their -differences in a common-sense way. Don't you think there is a -change in the tone of the press already?" - -"The secular press certainly has improved wonderfully in its -treatment of Catholics. About the religious periodicals I am not -so sure: some of them are tamer than they were formerly, but the -old stand-bys lash their tails as furiously as ever, and the less -they are heeded the louder they roar. But that is only natural. -You see the same thing at the theatres. When a play ceases to -draw very well, the single combats become doubly fierce and the -red-fire is frequent. The violence of the denominational organs -must not be taken as an evidence of the sentiment of society. If -they really led the opinions of their readers, we should have an -anti-Catholic crusade every year. I wonder if you have noticed, -however, that some of the Protestant religious papers which have -usually been mild in their tone have been roused of late to an -unaccustomed bitterness against us?" - -"Yes, and I hardly know how to account for it." - -"I think the explanation is this. The calm discussion of Catholic -questions, as we said before, must logically lead to the -discovery of Catholic truth. There are Protestant writers who see -this and do not want to see it. They perceive whither the current -is bearing them, and they struggle against it. They rail at the -church by way of protest against the growth of an unwelcome, -dimly foreseen conviction, as an encouragement to their tottering -unbelief, just as boys whistle to keep up their courage. -{581} -Have you ever seen a dying sinner try to fight off death? It is -in some such hopeless effort as his that _The Liberal -Christian_ and a few other journals are now engaged. I do not -say that they understand this themselves. I do not charge them -with absolutely resisting the progress of conviction, or, to -speak more exactly, the resistance is instinctive rather than -voluntary; but they feel or suspect, perhaps without fully -comprehending, that, if they keep on as they are going, they must -come pretty soon to the Catholic Church, and that provokes them. -_The Liberal Christian_, you know, is edited by Dr. Bellows, -an accomplished gentleman, who was thought some years ago to -exhibit a decided leaning toward the church. I am not prepared to -say whether this supposition was correct or not; but it is -certain that he saw more clearly and exposed more boldly the -inherent defects and logical tendencies of Protestantism than any -other Protestant I can remember, and in one of his published -sermons he declared that Unitarians (his own sect) had more -sympathy with Catholicism than with any other form of religion. -It might seem strange to find him among the foremost revilers of -that very Catholicism; but my theory explains it. The hostility -which glistens in his letters and runs mad, sometimes, in the -miscellaneous columns of his paper, is the revolt of his -Protestantism against the progress of unwelcome ideas--an effort -of his unregenerate nature, so to speak, to throw off something -which does not agree with it. Ah! how many men have trod in the -same path he is now following, and have been led by it to the -bitter waters of disappointment! He saw the fatal gulf into which -the Protestant bodies were plunging. He felt that hunger of the -spirit which nothing but the church of God ever satisfies. He -raised a cry for help, and when he found that there was no help -except from the Holy Catholic Church, he turned his back upon -her, and bound himself down once more with the narrow bonds of -what is called Unitarian 'liberalism.' And now, of course, he -misses no opportunity of declaring his detestation of the succor -which he has refused. He has failed in his aspirations after a -mock church, and naturally he vents his disappointment on the -real one. He fancies that he is moved by principle, when he is -really instigated by pique. He imagines that he is an earnest, -honest seeker after an answer to what he well terms 'the dumb -wants of the religious times,' when he is--but I have no business -to judge his motives. That is God's affair. We must presume that -he is courageous and sincere, and that whenever he finds the -right road he will boldly walk in it. Nine years ago, Dr. Bellows -delivered an address before the alumni of the Harvard Divinity -School, on 'The Suspense of Faith,' which was generally supposed -to indicate his wish to engraft a ritual and a priesthood upon -the Unitarian denomination, bringing it perhaps nearer to -Episcopalianism than to any other system of worship. There was no -such thought in his mind, I am sure; though his sentiments, had -they been acted upon, might have led many men through -Episcopalianism into the Catholic Church. I will not weary you -with the whole of it; but let me read a few lines which have a -special application to what we have been saying. -{582} -He is trying to account for the fact that Unitarianism is in a -posture of pause and self-distrust and he says: 'If, with logical -desperation, we ultimate the tendencies of Protestantism, and -allow even the malice of its enemies to flash light upon their -direction, we may see that _the sufficiency of the Scriptures -turns out to be the self-sufficiency of man_, and the right of -private judgment an absolute independence of Bible or church. No -creed but the Scriptures, practically abolishes all Scriptures -but those on the human heart; nothing between a man's conscience -and his God, vacates the church; and with the church, the Holy -Ghost, whose function is usurped by private reason: the church -lapses into what are called religious institutions, these into -Congregationalism, and Congregationalism into individualism--and -the logical end is the abandonment of the church as an -independent institution, _the denial of Christianity as a -supernatural revelation,_ and the extinction of worship as a -separate interest. There is no pretence that Protestantism, as a -body, has reached this, or intends this, or would not honestly -and earnestly repudiate it; but that its most logical product is -at this point, it is not easy to deny. Nay, that these are the -_tendencies_ of Protestantism is very apparent.' When he -comes to speak of Unitarianism as the representative and most -logical exponent of Protestantism, he expresses himself in a -still more remarkable way. Religion, he thinks, like everything -else in the world, has been constantly making progress, and -Unitarianism has always been in the van. Now this progress seemed -to have reached its limit; there is a pause, a partial recoil, in -some cases a turning back to the formalism and ritual worship of -Rome, in others a headlong rush into the abyss of pure -rationalism. In fact, Dr. Bellows believes that to create an -equilibrium in the relations between God and man, two opposing -forces are in operation--a centrifugal force, which drives man -away from submission to divine authority, that he may develop his -own liberty and functions of the will, and a centripetal force, -which leads him to worship and obedience. These are represented -respectively by Protestantism and Catholicism, and he seems to -think them destined to alternate--perhaps for all time, though -about this his meaning is not very clear. 'Is it not plain,' he -says, 'that, as Protestants of the Protestants, we are at the -apogee of our orbit; that in us the centrifugal epoch of humanity -has, for this swing of the pendulum at least, reached its bound? -For one cycle we have come, I think, nearly to the end of our -self-directing, self-asserting, self-developing, self-culturing -faculties; to the end of our honest interest in this necessary -alternate movement.'" - -"That means, if it means anything that Protestantism has done its -work, at least for the present age; that it has accomplished all -it can; and there is nothing left for man but a return to the -centripetal force, or to the Catholic Church." - -"Exactly: that would be the logical complement of the position he -assumed in the curious discourse from which I have been quoting; -but the misery is that he had not the courage to be logical. Ah! -how well I remember the impression produced at the time by that -sad, sad cry of weariness and disappointment which went up from -his pulpit when he perceived that the toil, and speculation, and -uneasiness of years had brought him to no goal; that he had -developed man's faculties without finding a use for them; that he -had achieved an intellectual freedom without knowing what to do -with it; that, as he well expressed it himself, '_there was no -more road_ in the direction he had been going.' -{583} -Many, as we have seen, when they reached that point on their -journey whence this whole dismal prospect was visible, turned -back to the church which their fathers had forsaken, and there -found peace; and Dr. Bellows had stated so boldly the miseries of -his own situation that it was no wonder people thought he too -would follow that course. But he set himself about finding a new -road, imagining a new church which was to arise at no distant -day, and combine the most conservative of liturgies with the most -radical of creeds. It was to be constituted on strictly -centripetal principles. Speculation having proved empty, worship -was to be essayed as a change. Doubt being but sorry fare for a -hungry soul, there was to be a good deal of faith, and preaching -not being a gift of all men, place was to be made for prayer. -What that church was to be, how it was to arise, and when it was -to make its appearance, he did not pretend to say. But it must -come soon, because 'the yearning for a settled and externalized -faith' was too strong to be left unsatisfied. It was to be, I -must suppose, a mingling of the revelations of our Saviour with -the dreams of Luther, Calvin, Fox, and Swedenborg; because, as -Dr. Bellows says in one of his lectures, 'the religious man who -has no vacillations in his views, who is not sometimes inclined -to Calvinism, sometimes to Rationalism, sometimes to Catholicism, -sometimes to Quakerism, has an imperfect activity, a dull -imagination, and a timid love of truth; for all these faiths have -embodied great and interesting spiritual facts which the free and -earnest explorer will encounter in his own experience, and find -more vividly portrayed in the history of these sects than in -himself.' It was to possess a fixed creed, but nobody was -expected to believe in it, for 'inconsistencies of opinion' are -to be expected of everybody, and doubt, fear, and scepticism are -actually desirable, provided they are 'the work of one's own -mental and spiritual activity, and not of mere passive -acquiescence in the forces that one encounters from without.' It -was to be a _true_ church, of course, yet a false church -also; because Dr. Bellows declares that 'truth is too large to be -surrounded by any one man or any one party,' and there are always -two great parties in religion as there are in politics, 'and each -has part of the truth in its keeping;' so that, of course, -neither can be wholly right. He wanted his church to be a -historical church, for Christianity is a historical religion, and -'a faith stripped of historic reality, disunited from its -original facts and persons, does not promise to live and work in -the human heart and life.' He seemed to have forgotten that -history is the growth of time, and cannot be conferred upon a -new-born infant. The future church must have rites and -ceremonies, for without them religion hardly 'touches our daily -habits and ordinary career,' and is, like Unitarianism, 'an -unhoused, unnatural, and disembodied faith.' It must be a visible -church, yet without a priesthood; a divinely instituted church, -yet without authority; receiving its doctrines by divine -revelations, yet only true in part; eternal, yet changeable, I am -not surprised that Dr. Bellows has not yet found it." - -"Surely he never uttered any such extraordinary farrago as you -have been putting into his mouth?" - -{584} - -"Not in those words, of course, nor with that collocation of -thoughts; but all that I have said you will find either in his -_Suspense of Faith_, or in the volume of sermons published -under the title of _Re-Statements of Christian Doctrine_, -(New York, 1860.) I have represented, as fairly as possible, the -vagueness of his aspirations and the inconsistency of his -principles. It is only clear that he wanted to be a Protestant -and a Catholic at the same time. He was shocked at the results of -his own centripetalism, and he longed for a visible church, with -a tangible creed and a set form of worship; only he wanted to -make the church himself; not to be the founder of a new sect--he -disclaimed that, and was unwilling even to change the form of -service in his own congregation--but to dream about it, to -speculate upon what it ought to be, to mould and influence -opinion, until, by a seemingly spontaneous movement, the new -church should arise from the midst of the people. Poor man! He -sees, by this time, that nobody feels the want of this new -church, and nobody believes in it; and he hates the true church, -partly because it is a continual reproach to him, bringing to -mind a duty unfulfilled and a happiness unappreciated, and partly -because it continually revives his disappointment." - -"I have serious doubts, however, whether Dr. Bellows ever -comprehended the beauty of the Catholic religion half so well as -many people supposed that he did. Read his books with a little -care, and you will see that he never took but the most -superficial view of religion: he never got at the core of it. -Religion to him--as to how many others!--was a thin philosophy -which amused his intellect, a sentimental poetry which tickled -his aesthetic instincts; it was not a _life_. Of that vital -Christianity which comprehends the whole relationship between God -and man, which is both a creed, a worship, and the very essence -of devout life, his heart seems to have been void." - -"Yes, he says something almost equivalent to this in his sermon -on 'Spiritual Discernment.'[Footnote 178] - - [Footnote 178: _Re-Statements of Christian Doctrine_.] - -'All the triumphs of Protestantism,' he declares, 'the universal -improvement of private and public morality, of public education, -respect for the individual, have grown out of the increasing care -to keep the church and the world apart--religion and other -interests distinct subjects of thought and attention.' And the -word 'world' here he does not use in its bad sense, but merely as -synonymous with secular affairs. Again he says, that 'the -Catholic Church succeeded wonderfully in blending life and -religion together, faith and daily usage, pleasure and worship, -philosophy and the Gospel;' and this, he thinks, was its great -fault, while the great merit of Protestantism was, that it -carefully separated what the church had so carefully melted -together. That gives you the real old Puritan idea of piety--a -something to be put on at stated times, and then put off again, -like the long faces which old-fashioned Protestants pull for -Sunday wear; to have no intimate connection with daily life, but -to be kept carefully apart, like the best coat which our -ancestors used to lay by in lavender leaves, to be worn on days -of ceremony. What is the good of a religion which does not blend -with work-a-day life? of a faith which is not felt in daily -usage? of a worship which must be kept apart from our pleasures, -from our business, from any of our honest pursuits? -{585} -Why, the very beauty of religion is, that it shall be in man's -heart at all times and in all places. If it cannot accompany us -everywhere, if it can only live in the artificial atmosphere of -Sunday meetings, it is not worth having. The danger against which -we have most to guard is not, Dr. Bellows thinks, that of -forgetting our religion, but that of growing too familiar with -it. His God is an awful rather than a loving God, and our sin -against him is not that we go so far away from him, but that we -bring him so near to us. In effect he tells us to fetch out our -piety once a week or so, on stated occasions, but not to let it -interfere with our daily walk and conversation, for that would be -sacrilege." - -"All this shows, as you say, that he has no comprehension as yet -of the true nature of religion; and shall I tell you why he is so -slow to acquire it? I believe that he is not really in sympathy -with Christianity." - -"What do you mean?" - -"Oh! he is nominally a Christian, of course. He would be -horrified if you told him he was not. But he has no sympathy with -the religion of Christ. Our Saviour, in his opinion, was only the -expounder of a system of ethics, and, to tell the truth, it is -not clear to me wherein the Christ of Unitarianism is essentially -superior to Socrates or Benjamin Franklin. The worship of our -Lord Dr. Bellows emphatically denounces as rank 'idolatry.' We -may only reverence him as a creature specially favored by the -Almighty, and a teacher to whose word we owe the most profound -respect. Take away from your religious system the idea of God in -the person of his divine Son perpetually present with the -faithful, and helping them to bear the burdens of humanity which -he himself has borne, and it is but a cold, cheerless, fallacious -belief which is left you. It is no longer religion; it is only a -false philosophy. Devotion vanishes; faith, hope, and love are -exchanged for a code of rules of behavior; and God withdraws from -the world into the impenetrable mystery of the heavens, where the -voice of prayer indeed may reach him, but his presence is never -felt by man, and his love never fills the heart. He is no longer -the dear Lord of the Christian saints, but the Allah of the -Moslems." - -"You have hit it exactly; and now let me tell you that ever since -Dr. Bellows set out on the foreign tour in which he is still -occupied, I have watched for the record of his impressions of -Oriental life, feeling certain, from what I knew of him, that he -would find an attraction in Mohammedanism which he never saw in -Christianity. I was not mistaken. He is not a polygamist: he has -no taste for a sensual heaven; I don't suppose he prefers the -Koran to the Bible; and I never heard of his keeping the -inordinate fasts of Ramadan; still, the creed of Islam seems, in -its main features, to have caught his fancy, and he loads it with -indirect praises, which he never thought of bestowing upon any -form of Christianity. Let me read you an extract from one of his -recent letters to _The Liberal Christian_: - - "'These people,' he says, referring to the Egyptians, 'know - nothing of Christianity which ought to give it any superiority - in their eyes over Mohammedanism. When the Arabian prophet - commenced his marvellous work, there is little doubt that he - was animated by the sincere enthusiasm of a religious reformer. - Mohammed recognized both dispensations, the Mosaic and the - Christian; and his intelligent followers to this day speak - reverently of the Christ. They evade the authority and use of - our Scriptures, by asserting that they have been thoroughly - corrupted in their text. A learned Mohammedan in India, - however, has just written the introduction to a new Commentary - on our Bible, in which he ably refutes the Mussulman charge of - general corruptness, and adduces all the passages quoted out of - the Old and New Testaments in the Koran. -{586} - But what have Mussulmans seen of Christianity to commend it - greatly above their own faith? Is it alleged that Mohammedanism - has owed its triumphs and progress to the sword? Is it the - fault of Christians if the Cross has not advanced by the same - weapon? What infidel rage of the Crescent has ever exceeded the - fanatical soldiering of the Crusades, and what has Coeur de - Lion to boast over Saladin in enlightenment or appreciation of - the Christian spirit? And if we come to bowing, and fasting, - and washing, and external forms, _I confess that the - degrading prostrations, and crossings, and mummeries of the - Greek and Catholic churches, with the gaudy trappings of robes - and jewels, the worship of saints and images, and the - deification of a humble Jewish woman, appear to me to have - nothing in the presence of which Mussulmans could feel the - lesser reasonableness, purity, or dignity, or the lesser - credibility of their own unadorned and simpler - superstition._ Compared with Catholic and Greek legends, the - Koran is a model of purity and elegance of style, and _its - worst superstitions do not much exceed in grossness the popular - interpretation given to monkish fables._ As it respects - ecclesiastical interference and tyranny, Mohammedanism is a - whole world in advance of Romanism or the Greek Church. It is - essentially without priest or ritual, in any Catholic sense. - The Mussulman is his own priest. He finds Allah everywhere, and - he has only to turn toward Mecca, and bow in prayer, and his - field, his boat, the desert, is as good an altar as the mosque. - It is truly affecting to see the fidelity of the common people - to their faith, the apparent heedlessness of observation, the - absorption in their prayers, the careful memory of their hours - of devotion.' - -"And, speaking of the absence of symbols and rites in the -mosques, he adds: 'Surely there is something grand in this -simplicity, _and something vital in a faith which, aided by so -little external appliance, has survived in full vigor twelve -hundred years'_" - -"Why don't he admire the vitality of the devil? Satan has -survived in full vigor a good deal more than twelve hundred -years." - -"That would be about as logical. But is it not melancholy to see -how far a man whom we would like to respect can be carried by his -uncontrolled vagaries! He demanded a 'historical church:' there -is only one in Christendom, and that he will not have; and now it -almost seems as if he felt an occasional temptation to search for -one _outside_ of Christendom. Protestantism, he finds, has -run its course. Catholicism he will have nothing to do with. -What, then, is left him, if he will be a religious man at all? -That seems to be the question which perplexes him and the small -but intelligent school of thinkers of whom he is the -representative. As the Jews are still waiting for the Christ they -crucified eighteen hundred years ago, so the Bellows school are -watching for the coming of that Christianity which they have -already rejected. And both, it seems to me, are sick at heart -with hope long deferred." - -"Yes; we hear little now of the confident prophetic tone in which -Dr. Bellows some years ago discoursed of the glories of the new -religion of humanity, and predicted a resettlement of worn-out -creeds and a revival of suspended faith. He writes now rather of -the desolation of the present than of brightness which he -discerns in the future. And this brings us back to the point from -which we started. While Protestant theologians in general are -discarding vituperation, there are certain of our opponents who -show us a bitterness to which they were not formerly accustomed, -because they have been disappointed in their own religious -aspirations, and have a vague, half-conscious, and wholly -unwelcome impression that the Catholic Church alone is capable of -satisfying them. Dr. Bellows, for instance, travels through -Europe and finds that Protestantism is everywhere lifeless. He is -bold enough to say so; but he takes his revenge in the next -breath by trying to show that the Catholic Church is no better. -{587} -He is powerless to arrest the decay which is destroying his own -organization, but he seems to find a melancholy compensation in -attacking Catholicism. He reminds me of what the boy said when he -was thrashed by a school-fellow: 'If I can't whip you, I can make -faces at your sister.' He visits Paris, and confesses that -'Protestantism makes next to no headway' in France, and is torn -by internal dissensions. He goes to the heart of Protestant -Germany, and finds the general aspect 'one of painful decay in -the faith and spirituality of the people.' All over the -continent, he observes that where the Catholic faith has died -out, 'nothing vigorous has shot up in its place,' and the masses -of the population are 'without aspiration, devoutness, or faith -in the invisible.' 'Protestantism, as it appears here, is a -chilled, repulsive, ungrowing thing, entering very little into -the national or the social and domestic life, and apparently not -destined in any of its present forms to animate the passions or -win and shape the hearts and lives of the middle classes. ... -_Out of the present elements of faith and worship in Germany I -see no prospects of any healthy and contagious religious life -arising.'_ Nay, what is worse than all, the peculiar form of -Protestantism upon which, if upon any. Dr. Bellows would rely for -the regeneration of Europe, is in no better way than the others. -'It does not appear,' he says, 'that the liberal element in the -Protestantism of Germany, I mean that branch of its Protestantism -which we should consider 'most in sympathy with Unitarianism, is -very earnest or creative. It seems still rather a negation of -orthodoxy than an affirmation of the positive truths of -Christianity. ... Forced to take positive ground, I fear that a -large part of this extensive body _would be compelled to -abandon Christian territory altogether._' From Berlin he -writes that 'the whole life of the national church is sickly and -discouraging;' from Strasburg, that Protestantism 'must learn -some new ways before it will become the religion of the people of -France, Italy, or even Germany;' from Vienna, that the -Protestantism of Austria is 'essentially torpid and -unprogressive, presenting nothing attractive or promising.' These -passages, and many more of similar purport, we may take as -equivalent to the little boy's confession that he could not whip -his antagonist. When it comes to the other part, the making faces -at his sister, I am bound to say that Dr. Bellows shows more -temper than strength. In Vienna, he deplored the lukewarmness of -the Catholic people all through Germany, yet, in several previous -letters, he had contrasted their zeal in church-going with the -indifference of the Protestants. He accuses the clergy of -avarice, though in Rome he compliments the priests for their -personal merits, their 'seriousness, decorum, and fair -intelligence.' He declares that 'the Catholic Church is an artful -substitute for anything that a human soul ought to desire;' that -she is 'the chief hinderance to progress;' that she has -'glorified the blessed Mother into the Almighty;' that she -'mutters spells and practises necromancy at her altars,' and all -that kind of thing, which I need not repeat, because we have -heard it in almost the very same words scores of times before. -But the most curious of all his angry attacks was made--where, -think you? Why, on a steamer in the Levant, where there was -nothing whatever to provoke him: where the onslaught was so -perfectly gratuitous that it burst upon the calm flow of his -letter like a thunderbolt rending the summer sky. Here it is: - -{588} - - "'Roman Catholicism, weak in every member, is prodigious in its - total effectiveness, because it is a unit. It is quietly - seizing America, piece by piece, state by state, city by city. - In a new state like Wisconsin, for instance, it has the oldest - college, the largest theological school, the best hospitals and - charities, the finest churches; and what is true of Wisconsin - is equally true of many other Western states. Protestantism, - with a hundred times the wealth, intelligence, public spirit, - and administrative ability, by reason of its sectarian - jealousies and divisions can have no parallel successes, and is - losing rapidly its place in legislative grants and in public - policy. The Irish Catholics spot the members of state - legislatures who vote against the appropriations they call for, - and are able in our close elections to defeat their return. - Representatives become servile and pliable, and Romanism - flourishes. A Quaker gentleman of wealth, in the West, (the - story is exactly true,) married a Vermont girl who had become a - Catholic in a nunnery where she was sent for her education. It - was agreed that, if children were given them, the boys should - be reared in the faith of their father, the girls in that of - their mother. _The Vermont mother gave her husband ten girls, - but never a son!_ Eight of them grew up Catholics, married - influential men, and brought up their children Catholics, and - in some cases brought over their husbands, and so the Roman - Church was recruited with Protestant wealth and Quaker blood to - a vast extent. So much for sending Protestant girls to Roman - Catholic seminaries, and then complaining that so many - Protestants are lost to the superstitions of Romanism! There is - an apathy about the Roman Catholic advances in the United - States among American Protestants, which will finally receive a - terrible shock. There is no influence at work in America so - hostile to our future peace as the Roman Catholic Church. The - next American war will, I fear, be a religious war--of all - kinds the worst. If we wish to avert it, _we must take - immediate steps to organize Protestantism more efficiently_, - and on less sectarian ground.' - -"Well, upon my word, the conduct of that Vermont girl was -abominable. I suppose Dr. Bellows thinks she never would have -been artful enough to swindle her husband out of all his expected -boys if she had not been brought up in a convent. 'So much for -sending Protestant girls to Roman Catholic seminaries!' I should -think so, indeed!" - -"The story is very ridiculous; but the moral Dr. Bellows draws -from it is worse than ridiculous. If we wish to avert a religious -war, he says, 'we must take immediate steps to organize -Protestantism more efficiently, and on less sectarian ground.' -That means that Protestantism must maintain an overwhelming -preponderance in this country by fair means or foul. If it cannot -convert the papists with the Bible, it ought to knock them on the -head with a bludgeon. And the same atrocious sentiment is still -more plainly expressed by an Irish writer in _The Liberal -Christian_ of Feb. 29th, who says, 'Popery and Fenianism are -Siamese curses, withering every noble and humane feeling wherever -they exist. ... _They deserve no toleration; they should -receive no mercy._' There's a 'liberal' Christian for you, -with a vengeance!" - -"Well, we can afford to ridicule such fears and threats; but it -is very sad. Here, where nearly all honest people seem to have -made up their minds to reform their bad language, and be as -polite in discussing sacred questions as in talking over secular -affairs, a sect which professes toleration and fairness beyond -all others goes back to the old style of polemical blackguardism. -I can appreciate the unfortunate position of the liberal -Christians, when, having pushed ahead so far, they find that -there is 'no more road' in that direction, and can understand -that only one of two courses may seem open to them, either to -berate the Catholics or to join them; but the instruction which -the barrister received from his attorney when the law and the -facts were both against him, 'Abuse the other side,' does not -apply so well to religion as to jury trials. We must have a -different style of argument if anybody is to be converted or -improved by the discussion. - -------- - -{589} - - Nellie Netterville. - - - Chapter XII. - -When first O'More unfolded the cloak in which he had brought -Nellie safely through the flames, she lay so white and still -that, for one brief, terrible moment, he almost fancied she was -dead. The fresh air, however, soon revived her, and, opening her -eyes, filled with a look of terror which afterward haunted them -for months, she fixed them upon Roger, and whispered nervously: - -"Where are the rest--the priest and all? Where are they?" - -"They are with their God, I trust," he answered solemnly. At that -awful moment he felt that he could say nothing but the truth, -terrible as he knew that truth must sound in the ears of the pale -girl beside him. His words, in fact, seemed to cut through her -like a knife, and she fell upon her knees, exclaiming: "I only -saved--I only saved! O my God, my God! have mercy on their -souls!" Then suddenly remembering that, if she were safe, she -owed it entirely to Roger, she added earnestly, "You have risked -your life for mine. How shall I thank you?" - -"By helping me once more to save it," he answered curtly. -"Nellie," he went on rapidly, for he knew too well that every -moment they lingered there was fraught with peril--"Nellie, you -are saved, and yet not safe yet! Your life, however, is in your -own hands now, and with courage and good trust in Providence, I -doubt not we shall pull safely through." - -Nellie seemed to gather up her mind for a great effort, and said -calmly: - -"Only say what I must do, and I will do it." - -"The case is this," said Roger shortly: "Yonder tower," and he -pointed to the burning pile overhead--"yonder tower must fall -soon, and, if we linger here, will crush us in its ruins. On the -other hand, even if we could creep round to the opposite side of -the church, a thing in itself almost impossible, the fanatical -demons who guard the gates will probably shoot us down like dogs. -The cliff, therefore, is our best--almost our only chance. -Nevertheless I leave the choice in your own hands. Only remember -you must decide at once." - -"The cliff, then, be it!" said Nellie, with white lips but -flashing eyes. "God is more merciful than man. He will save us, -perhaps; if not, his will be done--not mine. I will trust -entirely to him--entirely to him and you." - -Almost ere she had finished speaking, Roger had undone the rope -which he carried round his waist, and was looking eagerly about -him for some means of securing it in such a way as to make it -useful to Nellie in her descent. Fortunately for his purpose, a -thorny tree had planted itself, some hundreds of years before, in -a fissure of the rocks so close to the walls of the tower that, -old, and gray, and stunted, as it now was, its roots had in all -probability penetrated beneath their broad foundation, and were -quite as firmly settled in the ground. Upon this Roger pounced at -once, and having tried it sufficiently to make tolerably sure of -its powers of endurance, he passed one end of his rope round the -thickest and lowest portions of the stem, and made it fast with a -sailor's knot. -{590} -The other end he threw over the cliff, and then watched its fall -with a terrible, silent fear at his heart lest it should prove -shorter than his need required. Down it went and down, and he -stooped over to mark its progress until Nellie felt sick with -fear, and turned away to avoid the giddiness which she knew would -be fatal to them both. - -At last she heard him say, "Thank God, it has reached the -platform!" Then he turned round and anxiously scanned her -features. - -"Nellie," he said, "this thing is difficult, but not impossible. -I have seen you bound like a deer down cliffs almost as steep, if -not so high. The great, the only real peril, is in the eyesight. -Lot's wife perished by a look. You must promise me neither to -glance up nor down, but to keep your eyes fixed on the rocks -before you. Hold well by the rope; take it hand over hand like a -sailor, (I remember that you know the trick;) and leave the rest -to me. There is really a path, though you can hardly see it from -this spot; and there are chinks and crevices besides, in which -you will easily find footing. You must feel for them as you -descend; and when you are at a loss, I shall be below to help -you. Neither will you be quite alone, for I am going to fasten -you by this cord, so that, if you should happen to let go, I may -perhaps be able to support you." - -"My God!" said Nellie, white with terror, as he passed a strong, -light cord, first round her waist and then his own, in such a way -that there was length sufficient to enable them to act -independently of each other, while, at the same time, neither -could have fallen without almost to a certainty insuring the -destruction of both. "My God, I cannot consent to this. Go by -yourself; my fall would kill you." - -"But you will not fall--you shall not fall," he pleaded -anxiously, "if only you will abide by my directions." - -"Go alone, I do beseech you!" she answered, with a shiver. "You -cannot save me, and I shall but insure your destruction with my -own." - -"Nay, then, I give it up," he answered, almost sullenly. "We will -stay here and die together, for never shall it be said of an -O'More that, in seeking safety for himself, he left a woman thus -to perish." - -"Then, in God's name, let us try!" said Nellie; "only tell me -what to do, and I will do it--if I can." - -"Hold fast the rope, that is all. Never let one hand go until the -other has grasped it firmly, and leave the rest to me. I will -help to place your feet in safe resting-places as we go down. -Only trust me, and all will yet be well." - -"I will trust to you and to God, and our Lady," said Nellie, -unconsciously repeating the password of the morning. Her color -was rising fast, and her eyes had begun to sparkle with -excitement. O'More seized the propitious moment, and, almost -before Nellie knew it, she had begun her perilous descent. - -"Are you steady now--quite steady?" he asked, in as low a voice -as if he feared to startle the air with motion by speaking -louder. Yes! with the natural instinct of a mountain climber -Nellie had already found a rough indented spot in which her foot -was firmly planted, and he descended a step lower. Thus inch by -inch they went, Nellie ever clinging to the rope, and O'More -guiding her descent with a success he had hardly looked for, and -which he felt to be almost miraculous. -{591} -His heart at last beat high with hope; for he saw by the distance -which they had descended that they must be nearing a sort of -shelf or platform formed by a sudden bulging out of the lower -strata of the cliffs, and he knew that they were safe if they -could only reach that spot, the rest of the path being so well -marked that, even without his aid, Nellie could easily have found -her way from thence to the sands beneath. - -But the surge of the sea boomed louder and louder as she -approached it, and at last, fairly forgetting Roger's caution, -she turned her head a little, and glanced downward. Then, for the -first time, she became fully conscious of the terrible position -she occupied, suspended as it seemed by a very thread between -earth and sky, and with the great, deep, awful ocean rolling -hundreds of feet below her. Her head swam, her eyesight failed -her, she had just enough presence of mind left to grasp the rope -firmly by both hands, when, feeling as if her senses were utterly -deserting her, she cried out: - -"O my God, I am going! Save me, Roger, I am going!" - -"No, no!" he cried, in agony, for he knew only too well the -danger of the thought. "Hold fast--hold on; for Christ's dear -sake, hold on! One step--two steps more, and you are safe. -There!" he cried, in a voice hoarse with emotion, as he felt his -own foot touch the platform; and seizing Nellie by the waist, he -drew her, hardly conscious of what he was doing, by main strength -to his side. "There, oh! thank God--thank God, you are safe at -last!" - -He was just in time. Nellie had that very moment let go the rope, -and if he had not caught her, would inevitably have been dashed -to pieces on the rocks below. As it was, he landed her safely and -gently on the ledge where he himself was standing, and without -venturing to loose her entirely from his grasp, laid her down, -that she might recover from her nervous panic. - -"You are safe," he kept repeating, as if it required the -assurance of his own voice to make certain of the fact. "You are -safe!" and then with an instinctive yet entirely unacknowledged -consciousness on his part, that _his_ own safety might -perhaps be at least a portion of her care, he added--"we are safe -now. You can stay here until you are quite yourself again; only -do not look up or down--at least not just yet, not until the -giddiness is gone. You forgot Lot's wife, or this never would -have happened." - -Nellie was not insensible, though she looked so. She only felt as -if she were in a dream. She understood perfectly all that Roger -said; the shadow even of a smile seemed to pass over her white -lips as he alluded to Lot's wife; but his voice fell with a -muffled sound, as if it came from a great distance, on her ear; -and earth, and sky, and cliff, and ocean, all seemed blending and -floating in a wild fantasy through her brain. By degrees, -however, a sort of awakening seemed to creep over her, but she -did not use it at first either to look up or speak. Possibly she -felt that words would be powerless to express her thoughts, and -was glad of any excuse for silence. Roger did not like to hurry -her, and he therefore employed the next few minutes in scanning -the sea in search of Henrietta. She was there, exactly in the -place in which he had bidden her to wait for him; but she was -watching the burning tower overhead, and had evidently very -little notion that any of its victims had escaped. From the spot -where he was standing, he could easily have made her hear him; -but fearing that his voice might rouse up some hidden foe, he -turned to Nellie for assistance. - -{592} - -"Have you a handkerchief," he asked, "or anything of that kind -which you could give me for a signal?" - -Without answering, without even looking up, (so obedient had she -grown, poor Nellie!) she untied the scarlet kerchief, which, in -her harmless vanity, she had that morning thrown over her head -and knotted beneath her chin, as the last thing wanting to her -costume of a native girl, and gave it into Roger's hand. He waved -it for some time without success; but at last Henrietta saw it, -and began to row vigorously into shore. - -"Now you may look," cried Roger joyfully, helping Nellie to stand -up; "now you may look; for you will see nothing but what it is -good for you to see. Henrietta Hewitson is waiting for us in the -boat below, and the sooner we leave this resting-place the -better." - -"Henrietta Hewitson!" cried Nellie, roused effectually to life -again by the mention of her name. "His daughter! How kind, how -noble! Shall we not go to her at once?" - -"If you are able," he answered. "The rest of the way is -easy--easier far than the cliffs of Clare Island, which you -climbed with me yesterday." - -"Easy! oh! yes, surely it is easy," cried Nellie wildly. "O my -mother--my mother!" she sobbed, with a little gasp; "I shall see -her once again--and my grandfather! the poor old man will not be -left desolate, after all." - -Roger saw that she was growing every moment more and more -excited, and he cut the matter short by carrying her down to the -beach and laying her in the boat, as if she had been a baby. -Henrietta received her with a look of remorse, as if she felt -that she herself must seem, somehow or other, responsible in -Nellie's eyes for the pain and misery she had been enduring for -the last few hours; and while she wrapt her tenderly and -affectionately in a cloak taken from her own shoulders, Roger -sent the boat, by a few vigorous strokes of the oar, to a safe -distance from the rocks near which they had embarked. This -manoeuvre placed them in full view of the burning tower, and he -dropped his oar and gazed upon it as if irresistibly attracted by -the spectacle. The body of the church was by this time a -smouldering heap of ruins, but the tower, wrapt in its terrible -robes of fire, still stood bravely up as if in defiance of its -coming doom. For a single second it remained thus, unyielding and -apparently uninjured, than it began visibly to totter. Another -moment, and it was swaying backward and forward like a leaf in an -autumn storm; and yet another, and, as if in a last wild effort -to escape from the flames that swathed it, it plunged right over -the cliffs, the fragments of its ruined walls crashing and -crumbling from rock to rock till they fell with a roar like -thunder into the waters underneath. Both girls, at the first -symptom of the catastrophe impending, had instinctively shut -their eyes; but Roger, on the contrary, looked on as steadily as -if he were keeping a count of every falling stone in order to set -it down in his debt of vengeance against those who had done the -deed. Not a syllable, however, did he utter, until the last stone -had fallen, and the last fiery gleam disappeared from the cliff; -but then, as if unable any longer to endure in silence, he threw -up his arms toward heaven, and exclaimed: - -{593} - -"Men, women, and children all sent before their time to judgment! -O God! what punishment hast Thou reserved in this world or the -next that shall be heavy enough for such a deed as this!" - -"Curse me not--curse not!" cried Henrietta, with anguish in her -voice, "The doom, God knows, is heavy enough already." - -"Curse _you!_" said the astonished Roger, "_you_, to -whom I owe more than my own life a thousand times. Nay, Mistress -Henrietta, what madness has made you fear it?" - -"I fear! I fear! Why should I not?" sobbed Henrietta. "The sin of -the parents shall be visited on the children, and he is my -father, after all!" - -"Your father! _your_ father!" Roger muttered, trying to keep -down the storm of passion that was choking him. "Well, well, he -is, as you say, _your_ father, and so I must perforce be -silent." - -"Alas! alas!" Henrietta pleaded, "if you did but know the -completeness of his religious mania, you would also comprehend -how easily a man, merciful in all things else, can in this one -thing be merciless." - -"Nay," said Roger bitterly; "it needs, I think, no great stretch -of intellect to understand it thoroughly. A man, fresh from the -siege of Tredagh, where children were dashed from the -battlements, lest, 'like nits, they should become troublesome if -suffered to increase,' will, doubtless, merely consider the -holocaust of human life which lies buried beneath yonder ruins as -a whole burnt-offering, smelling sweet in the nostrils of the -Lord, which he, as his high-priest, has been deputed to offer -up." - -He broke off suddenly, for a hand was laid upon his arm, and a -white face lifted pleadingly to his. "Speak not thus of her -father," whispered Nellie. "Speak not thus; see how she is -weeping!" - -"Her tears are his best plea for mercy, then," said he in a -gentler tone, and seizing the oars, he began to row as vigorously -as if he hoped to quiet his boiling spirit by the mere fact of -bodily exhaustion. Nellie made no answer, and silence fell upon -them all. - -The deed just done was not of a nature lightly to be forgotten, -and they went quietly on their way, as people will, upon whom the -shadow of a great terror still hangs heavily. Just, however, as -they entered the harbor of Clare Island, Nellie caught sight of a -well-known figure, and uttered a cry of joy. It was Hamish, and, -in her impatience, she scarcely waited until the boat was -fastened ere she was at his side. But there was no gladness in -his eye as he turned to greet her. He was deadly pale, and his -left arm hung powerless at his side. Nellie saw nothing of this -at first, however, she was thinking so entirely of her mother. - -"Is she come, dear Hamish?" she cried. "Where is she?" - -"In Dublin," he answered curtly. - -"In Dublin--and you here?" cried Nellie in dismay. - -"Because she sent me," he replied. - -"What is it, Hamish? What is it?" faltered Nellie, struggling -with a sense of some new and terrible misfortune impending over -her. - -"She is sore sick--sick even unto death," Hamish reluctantly -replied. He could not bring himself to utter the terrible truth -as yet. - -Nellie stood for a moment mute with terror. She read upon her -foster-brother's face that worse news than even this was about to -follow; but when she would have asked what it was, courage and -voice completely failed her. She knew it, however, soon enough. -From his seat by the door of the tower, Lord Netterville had -caught a glimpse of Hamish, and came down at once to greet him. -Excitement seemed for one brief moment to have restored all his -faculties, and he cried out eagerly: - -{594} - -"You here, good Hamish! I am heartily glad to see you! And what -news bring you from Netterville? How goes my lady daughter? Ill, -do you say--sore stricken? Nay, man, remember that she is still -but young. It cannot surely be an illness unto death?" - -"Yea, but it is, my lord," said Hamish, speaking almost roughly -in his agony. "Death, and nothing short of death, as surely as -that I am here to say it." - -"Art thou a prophet?" asked Roger, bending his dark brows upon -him, and half tempted to suspect a snare. "Art thou a prophet, -that thou darest to speak thus confidently of the future?" - -"Sir," said Hamish, driven at last beyond his patience, and -hardly knowing how to break his news more gently, "it needs not -to be a prophet to foresee that the widow of a royalist and a -Catholic to boot, shut up in prison and condemned on a false -charge of murder, is in danger--nay, said I danger?--and is as -certain of her doom as if she were already in her coffin." - -Nellie uttered a wild cry, the first and last that escaped her -lips that day, and Lord Netterville repeated faintly, "Murder!" - -"Ay, murder; and in another week she dies," Hamish answered, now -desperate as to the consequences of his revelation. - -Nellie turned short round toward Roger: - -"I must go!" she said. "I must go at once." - -"Of course you must," he answered, in that helpful tone which had -so often that morning already reassured her. - -"She has sent me hither to conduct you," Hamish--with some latent -jealousy of the interference of a stranger--was beginning, when, -unable any longer to conceal the bodily anguish he was enduring, -he uttered a moan of pain, and leaned back against the low wall -of the pier. - -Then for the first time Nellie looked into his face, and saw that -he was as white as ashes. - -"My God! my God!" she cried in her perplexity. "What is to become -of us? He is dying too." - -"No, no," Hamish mustered his failing strength to answer, "It is -nothing. They shot at me as I took boat from the beach, and hit -me in the arm; but it is not broken, and if only I could stop the -bleeding, I should be well enough to start at once." - -But he grew paler and paler as he spoke, and the blood gushed in -torrents from his arm, as he tried to lift it for their -inspection. Roger shouted to Norah to bring down a cordial from -the tower, and he then helped Nellie and Henrietta in their -nervous and not very efficient endeavors to check the bleeding -with their kerchiefs. Hamish was by this time well-nigh -insensible, but a cup of wine revived him, and having ascertained -that he was merely suffering from a flesh-wound, Roger sent back -Norah to rummage out some bandages which he remembered were among -his soldier stores. With these he stanched the blood, and -carefully bound up the wounded arm, assuring Nellie at the same -time that her faithful follower was merely suffering from loss of -blood, and that in a few days he would be as well again as ever. -Nellie must be forgiven if at that moment she had no thought -excepting for her mother. - -"A few days," she cried despairingly; "then I must go back alone; -for my mother will be dead by that time." - -{595} - -Hamish did not hear her. He was leaning back in that half-dreamy -state which often follows upon loss of blood; but Roger answered -instantly: - -"You shall go at once; but certainly not alone." He turned round -to look for Lord Netterville; the poor old man had sunk upon the -ground, and in his helplessness and perplexity was weeping like a -child. - -"Lord Netterville!" said Roger suddenly. - -Lord Netterville dashed the tears from his eyes, and looked up -anxiously in the young man's face. - -"Lord Netterville," Roger repeated, giving him his hand and -helping him to stand up, "you see how the case stands; your -granddaughter must go to her mother, and go at once. Any delay -were fatal. This poor fellow is totally unable to accompany her. -Will you trust her to my care? I swear to you that she shall be -as dear and precious to me as a sister, and that I will watch -over her and wait upon her as if I were in very deed her -brother." - -With a look of relief and confidence that was touching to behold, -the old man wrung the hand which Roger gave him, and then -silently turned toward Nellie. Roger did did not ask her if she -would accept him as an escort; he felt that after the events of -the morning she would need no protestations of loyalty at his -hand, and merely said: - -"In two hours we can start; but I shall have to go first to the -mainland to look for horses." - -"Nay, that shall be my business," said Henrietta suddenly. "In -two hours hence, at the foot of the round tower, you will find -them waiting; and I will bring you at the same time a letter to a -friend, who may, I think, prove useful to you in Dublin. Follow -me not now," she added in a tone that admitted of no reply, as -Roger made a movement as if he would have gone with her to the -boat, "follow me not now; I can best arrange matters if I go -alone; but in two hours hence I shall expect you." - - - Chapter XIII. - -Henrietta was as good as her word, and, thanks to her energy and -kindness, Nellie, with Roger for an escort, was enabled to -commence her journey that very afternoon, both she and her -companion being mounted upon good swift steeds, which the young -English girl had made no scruple of abstracting for the purpose -from her father's stable. She had done even more than this; for -she had conquered her pride and petulance sufficiently to write a -letter to Major Ormiston, in which she entreated him, by the love -he once professed to bear her, to do all he could for Nellie, and -to procure her every facility for access to her mother. This she -had given to Roger, hinting to him at the same time that her -correspondent was high in favor of the Lord Deputy, and might -possibly be able to induce the latter to commute the sentence of -death hanging over Mrs. Netterville into one of fine or -imprisonment, even if he could not or would not grant her a full -pardon. Of this hope, however, Roger said not a syllable to -Nellie, fearful, if it should come to naught, of adding the -bitterness of disappointment to the terrible measure of misery -which in that case would be her portion. - -The journey to Dublin was a difficult and a long one, and if -Nellie had been allowed to act according to her own wishes, she -would probably have used up both herself and her horse long -before she had reached its end. -{596} -Fortunately, however, for the accomplishment of her real object, -Roger took a more exact measure of the strength of both than, -under the circumstances, she was capable of doing for herself, -and he insisted every night upon her seeking a few hours' repose -in any habitation, however poor, which presented itself for the -purpose. - -With this precaution, and supported also in some measure by the -very excitement of her misery, Nellie bore up bravely against the -inevitable fatigues and discomforts of the journey. The horses, -however, proved less untiring. In spite of Roger's best care and -grooming, both at last began to show symptoms of distress, and -they were a long day's journey yet from Dublin when it became -evident to him that his own in particular was failing rapidly. -Henrietta had chosen it chiefly for its quality of speed; but it -was too light for a tall and powerfully-built man like Roger; and -more than once that day he had been compelled to dismount, and -proceed at a walking pace, in order to allow it to recover -itself. Night was rapidly closing in, and Nellie, who, -preoccupied by her own anxieties, had not as yet remarked the -state of the poor animal, ventured to remonstrate with Roger upon -the slowness of their proceedings. Then for the first time he -pointed out to her the exhaustion of their steeds, acknowledging -his conviction that his own in particular was in a dying state, -and that two hours more, if he survived so long, would be the -utmost measure of the work that he could expect him to -accomplish. Nellie was for a moment in despair, and then a bold -thought struck her--why not ride straight for Netterville? They -had been for some hours in the country of the Pale, and they -could not be very far from her old home now. Every feature in the -landscape was becoming more and more familiar to her eyes, and -she was certain that, in less than the two hours which Roger had -assigned as the utmost limit of his steed's endurance, they would -have reached her native valley. Once there, they would not only -be in the direct road to Dublin, but they would also have a -better chance of finding horses than they could have in a place -where they were entirely unknown. Netterville, it was true, was -now wholly and entirely, with its fields and stock, in the hands -of the Parliamentarians; but she was certain of the fidelity of -the poor people there, and as certain as she was of her own -existence, not only that they would not betray her, but that they -would also do all they could to help and speed her on her way. -The plan seemed feasible; at all events, no other presented -itself at the moment to Roger's mind, and accordingly, after -having done all he could to relieve his horse, and prepare him -for a fresh spurt, they struck right across the country eastward -toward the sea. Nellie proved right in her conjectures. In even -less than two hours from the moment in which they started, they -reached the valley of Netterville--reached it, in fact, just in -time; for Roger had barely leaped from his horse's back ere the -poor animal was rolling on the turf in the agonies of death. -Nellie then proposed that they should walk to the cottage of old -Grannie, and dismounted in her turn. Her horse was not so -exhausted as that of Roger, nevertheless it was even then unfit -for work, and would in all probability be still more so on the -morrow. Roger therefore thought it better to leave it to its fate -than to run the risk of attracting notice by bringing it with -them to Grannie's habitation. -{597} -He hoped, as Nellie did, that they would have a good chance of -finding fresh steeds at Netterville next morning; and after -carefully hiding the two saddles in a clump of gorse, they set -out on their way on foot. The old woman received Nellie with a -cry of joy. No sooner, however, did the latter mention the -business which had brought her there, than the faithful creature -stifled all her gladness at this unexpected meeting with her -foster-child, and turned to weep in good and sorrowful earnest -over the woe and shame impending upon the house of Netterville, -in the person of its unhappy mistress. While Nellie ate, or tried -to eat, the simple fare set before her by her hostess, Roger told -the latter of the fate which had befallen their horses, and -inquired as to the possibility of replacing them by fresh ones. -Grannie shook her head despondingly. Royalists and -Parliamentarians alternately, she said, had seized upon every -available horse they could find in the country, until, as far as -she knew, there was not a "garran" fit for a two hours' journey -within ten miles of Netterville. As to Netterville itself, if -there _were_ any horses left in its stables, (which she -doubted,) they must of necessity belong to the English soldier to -whose lot, in the drawing of the debentures, the castle and its -grounds had fallen; much, the old woman added with a chuckle, to -the disgust of the officer who commanded them at the time of the -recent murder, and who, having coveted the place exceedingly for -himself, was supposed to have pressed the matter heavily against -Mrs. Netterville for the facilitating of his own selfish wish. - -Roger listened to all this in silence, privately resolving to -risk his own detention, if discovered, as an outlaw, and to visit -the stable of Netterville next morning, in hopes of procuring a -fresh mount. As nothing, however, could be done till then, he -entreated Nellie to lie down and rest, after which he left the -hut, there not being a second chamber in it, and throwing himself -on a bank of heather on the outside, was soon fast asleep. It was -long before Nellie could follow his example, but at last she fell -into that state of dreamless stupor which often, in cases of -extreme exhaustion, takes the place of healthy slumber. Such as -it was, at all events, it was rest--rest of body and rest of -mind--a truce to the aching of weary limbs, and to the yet more -intolerable weariness of a mind, wincing and shivering beneath a -coming woe. The first gleam of daylight roused her from it. There -was never any pleasant twilight now, between sleeping and waking, -in Nellie's mind! With the first gleam of consciousness came ever -the pale image of her mother, and there was neither rest nor -sleep for her after that. In the present instance, anxiety as to -the chance of being able to prosecute her journey at all, was -added to her other troubles; and, unable to endure suspense upon -such a vital point even for a moment, she opened the door -quietly, so as not to disturb old Granny, and looked out for -Roger. He was nowhere to be seen, and she guessed at once that he -had gone up to the castle. Then a longing seized her to look once -more upon the old place where she had been so happy formerly; -and, without giving herself time to waver, she walked hurriedly -up the valley. She did not, however, venture to the front of the -house, but resolved instead to take a path which, skirting round -it, would lead her to the offices behind. -{598} -It was, by one of those strange accidents which we call chance, -but for which the angels perhaps have quite another name, the -very path which her mother had always taken when visiting the -sick soldier. The door of the room which he had occupied was -slightly ajar as Nellie passed it; and, moved by an impulse for -which she could never afterward thoroughly account, she pushed it -open without noise, and entered. The room was not uninhabited, as -she had at first supposed. A woman, evidently in the last stage -of some mortal malady, lay stretched upon the bed, and a soldier -of the Cromwellian type was seated with an open Bible in his hand -beside her. He had probably been employed either in reading or -exhorting, but at the moment when Nellie entered, it was the -woman who was speaking. - -"I tell you, soldier!" Nellie heard her querulously murmur--"I -tell you, soldier, it is mere waste of breath, your preaching. So -long as that woman's death lies heavy on my soul, so long I can -look for nothing better in the next world than hell." - -At that very moment Nellie noiselessly advanced, and stood in -silence at the foot of the bed. - -The woman recognized her at once, and with a wild shriek flung -herself out of the bed at her feet. The girl recoiled in horror -and dismay. She had learned the whole story of her mother's -condemnation from Hamish ere she left Clare Island. - -"Murderess of my mother!" she cried, in a voice hoarse with -anguish. "Dare not to lay hands upon her daughter." - -"Mercy! mercy!" cried the woman, grovelling on the ground, and -seeking with her white shrunken fingers to lay hold of the hem of -Nellie's garment. "Mercy! mercy!" - -"Where shall I find mercy for my mother?" Nellie asked, as white -as ashes, and shaking from head to foot in the agony of her -struggle between conscience and resentment--the one urging her to -forgive her foe, the other to leave her to her fate. "Where shall -I find mercy for my mother?" - -"You see, soldier--you see," moaned the poor wretch upon the -floor, "the daughter cannot pardon me; why then should God?" - -"What would you have?" cried Nellie, almost maddened by the -mental conflict. "What would you have? I cannot cure you. What -can I do?" - -"You can forgive," the woman answered feebly; "then perhaps God -will pardon also." - -"O my God! my God! give me strength and grace sufficient!" cried -Nellie; and then, by an effort of almost superhuman charity, she -stooped, put her arms round the dying creature's neck, and kissed -her. - -The woman uttered a cry of joy, and fell back heavily out of -Nellie's arms. A long silence followed. - -Nellie looked at the dead, white face, lying quietly on the floor -beside her, and felt as if she were dying also, so utterly did -her senses seem to fail her, and so dead and numbed were all her -faculties in the heavy strain that had been put upon them. A hand -was laid at last upon her shoulder. Nellie started violently. She -had totally forgotten even the existence of the soldier. - -"Nay, fear not, maiden, nor yet grieve inordinately," he said, in -a voice of mingled pity and admiration. "Thou hast acted in all -this business (I am bound to bear testimony to the truth) in a -way worthy of thy mother's daughter." - -"Thank God, at least, that I forgave her," Nellie murmured -beneath her breath, scarce conscious of what he was saying. - -{599} - -"Nay, and in very deed," he answered, "thy presence here has been -a crowning and a saving mercy for the poor wretch whom we have -seen expire. Ever since I found her here last night, dying alone -and in despair, I have been striving for her with the Lord, and -praying and exhorting, but, as it seemed to me, all in vain, -until thy kiss of peace fell like a balm more precious even than -that of Gilead on her soul, and restored it, I cannot doubt, (for -I saw a light as of exceeding gladness settle upon her dying -features,) restored it to long banished peace." - -"Thank God that he gave me grace to do it!" Nellie once more -whispered. It seemed as if she were powerless to think of aught -besides. - -"They who do mercy shall in due time find it!" rejoined the -soldier, putting a small scrap of written paper into her hand. -"In this very room thy mother tended me, when my own comrades had -deserted me, fearing the infection; in this very room yonder -woman, having been expelled the other portions of the mansion, -since order has been taken for the separation of God's elect from -the sinful daughters of the land, took up her abode some three -days since; and in this very room I last night found her, dying -of the malady of which, but for thy mother's care, I must have -also perished, and so moved by the prospect of eternal -retribution which lay before her, that she of her own accord did -dictate, and did suffer me to write down on the spot, a full -confession of her own guilt in the matter of the murdered -Tomkins, She told me then--and many times afterward in the course -of the long night she did continue to aver it--that she herself -it was who did the deed for which Mrs. Netterville stands -condemned to die; she having, in a drunken squabble. seized the -man's pistol and shot him dead upon the spot. And she furthermore -avowed, with unspeakable groanings and many tears, that, -terrified at the consequences of her own act, and moved besides -by a fiendish desire of vengeance against thy mother, who had in -some way unwittingly, in times past, offended her, she not only -accused her of the murder, but maintained that accusation -afterward upon oath when examined before the High Court of -Commissioners in Dublin. Now then, maiden, rise up and speed. Thy -mother's life is in thy hands; for with that paper, writ and -witnessed by one who, however humble, is not altogether unknown -as a zealous soldier in the camp of Israel--with that paper, I -say, to attest her innocence, they must of a certainty -acknowledge it, and let her go." - -"How shall I thank thee, O my God!" cried Nellie, scarcely able -to believe her ears that she had heard the soldier rightly. - -"It is good to praise God always," he replied sententiously, "but -at this moment briefly. Thy present care must be to get to Dublin -with what speed thou mayest." - -"Alas!" said Nellie, "how shall I get there? I have ridden day -and night ever since I heard this unhappy news, and only -yesterday evening our horses were so knocked up, that I and my -companion had to find our way hither as best we could on foot." - -"There are but two horses in these stables, and neither of them -are mine to offer," said the soldier, evidently distressed and -anxious at the dilemma in which his _protégée_ was placed. -"Nevertheless, and the Lord aiding me in my endeavors, I will do -what I can. Come with me to the courtyard--I doubt not but thou -knowest the way well enough already." - -{600} - -Yes, indeed! poor Nellie knew it well enough, and at any other -time she might have wept at revisiting on so sad an errand a spot -hitherto pleasantly associated in her mind with many a childish -frolic, and many a petted animal, the favorites of the days gone -by. Just now, however, she had no inclination to dwell on the -memories of the past. Joy at the proved innocence of her mother, -and a wild fear lest she herself should arrive too late in Dublin -to allow of her profiting by the disclosure, filled her whole -soul, and left no room there for sentimental sorrows. She found -Roger already in the yard, engaged in hot discussion with an -officer of the English army, a coal-black charger, which the -latter was holding carelessly by the bridle, being the apparent -object of the dispute. - -"Ay," muttered her conductor, as he glanced toward the group; "it -is, I see, even as I suspected, and I shall have to pay dearly -for Black Cromwell." Then leaving Nellie a little in the -background, he went up to the English officer and said: - -"Here is an unhappy maiden, Captain Rippel, bound upon an errand -of life and death, and sorely in need of a good steed to bear -her. The fate of a grave, God-fearing woman, even of Mistress -Netterville herself, the late owner of this mansion, is dependent -on her speed, and, had I twenty horses in the stable, as I have -not one, I declare unto thee as God liveth and seeth, that she -should have her choice among them all." - -"Yea, and undoubtedly," the other answered with a sneer. -"Nevertheless, since it is even as thou sayest, and that thou -hast them not, I fear me, good master sergeant, that this young -daughter of Moab, who has been lucky enough to find favor in your -eyes, will be none the better for your good intentions." - -"Sir, if you be a man--a gentleman--you cannot, you will not -refuse!" cried the indignant Roger. "Consider, this young lady is -here a suppliant where once she dwelt the honored mistress of the -mansion, and you cannot of a surety say nay! Remember it is no -gift we crave, for this purse contains double the value of your -steed, strong and of admirable breeding as undoubtedly he is." - -He held up a purse as he spoke, the parting gift of Henrietta, -from whom, however, he had accepted it merely as a loan, to be -afterward repaid in some of the most valuable of the articles yet -left him in his tower. It was well filled and heavy; but with a -little smile of scorn the officer waved it quietly on one side. - -"And how am I to be certified, I pray you, that this young -maiden--who seems to have cast witchcraft on you both--is in -reality Mistress Netterville, or any other indeed than a base -impostor?" he asked with a most offensive leer. "Scarce five days -have as yet elapsed since I came hither, sent by the Lord High -Deputy himself, to put order in this garrison, and to separate -the elect of God from the sinful daughters of the land, and--" - -"Sir, do you dare!" cried Roger, suddenly cutting short his -speech; and, raising his hand, he would have struck him to the -ground if the soldier had not placed himself hastily between -them, saying in a monitory tone to Roger: - -"If thou wouldst not destroy the young maiden's hopes altogether, -sir, leave this affair to me. Another look or word of thine, and -it will utterly miscarry." - -{601} - -Roger felt the man was right. It was not by violence or angry -words that he could best serve Nellie. He checked himself at -once, therefore, and fell back, while the soldier said quietly to -his superior officer: - -"Thou hast not, peradventure, captain, forgotten the offer which -thou didst make to me some three days since, when first the way -in which the Lord had disposed of our lots was made known to us -at Netterville?" - -"Forgotten--no, in sooth--not I!" the other answered roughly. -"Nor have I forgotten either with what manifest folly and -ingratitude thou didst reject it; better though it was by a -hundred pieces of good gold, than that which one of thy comrades -didst thankfully accept from Major Pepper." - -"Throw Black Cromwell and the white mare Daylight into the -bargain, and I accept," the soldier answered quietly. - -"What, part with Black Cromwell? Black Cromwell, who hath carried -me unhurt through more battles than David himself ever fought -against the Philistines?" the officer demanded with well-affected -astonishment. "Verily and indeed, master sergeant, thou art, as I -do perceive, notwithstanding thy good odor for most punctilious -sanctity--thou art, I say, but an extortioner after all. Had it -been the mare alone, now, though she also is a very marvel for -strength and speed--I had never said thee nay; but to talk to me -of parting with Black Cromwell is to prick me, so to speak, upon -the very apple of the eye." - -"Nevertheless I have a fancy for him, and if I cannot get him, I -will still hold fast to Netterville, the inheritance which the -Lord himself hath of late assigned me in this new land of -promise," the other steadily replied. - -"There is the good horse. Battle of Worcester, he is stronger -than Black Cromwell, and would altogether suit the maiden -better," his superior rejoined in a coaxing tone. - -"Yea, but he hath an ugly trick of going lame ere the first mile -is over," Sergeant Jackson responded with a knowing smile, and -then he added in a tone which was evidently intended to bring the -discussion to an end, "It will be all in vain to dispute this -matter any further. Captain Rippel. If you have in truth, as you -seem to say, made up your mind to keep Black Cromwell for your -own riding, I, on the other hand, am equally resolved not to part -with this house of Netterville, which will serve me well enough, -I doubt not, as a residence, once I have brought my old mother -hither to help me in its keeping." - -"Nay, then, usurer, take the horse and thy money with it!" cried -the officer, in a tone far less expressive of vexation than of -triumph at the result of the discussion. "Take thy money and hand -me over that debenture which, with the loss of such a charger as -Black Cromwell, is, I fear me, but too dearly purchased." - -Without deigning to utter a single syllable in return, Sergeant -Jackson took the purse which the other in his affected -indignation almost flung at his head, with one hand, while with -the other he drew forth from the breast-pocket of his coat a -paper, being the identical debenture in question, and presented -it to his officer. Captain Rippel snatched it hastily from him, -ran his eye over it to make sure that it was the right one, and -then, turning on his heel, sauntered out of the courtyard, -without even condescending to glance toward the spot where Nellie -stood anxiously awaiting the result. - -{602} - -Sergeant Jackson instantly dived into one of the stables, and -seizing a side-saddle, (Nellie's own saddle of the olden times,) -he led forth a strong, handsome mare, as white as milk, and began -to saddle it in hot haste; while Roger, taking the hint, did the -same for Cromwell. - -"I am afraid I have cost you very dear," Nellie said in a low, -grateful tone, as she stood beside the sergeant. "Believe me, for -nothing less than a mother's life would I have suffered you to -make such a sacrifice." - -"Nay, maiden, call it not a sacrifice," he answered without -looking round, and giving a pull to the girths to make sure that -they were tight. "Or if thou needs must think it one, remember -that, had not thy good mother saved my life, I should not have -been here to make it." - -Nellie's heart was too full to speak, and she suffered him to -lift her in silence to her saddle. He settled her in it as -carefully and tenderly as if, instead of a simple soldier, he had -been one of the old courtly race of cavaliers, from which she was -herself descended, and then, with one last whispered word of -gratitude for himself, and one last loving message for old -Grannie, which he promised to deliver to her in person, Nellie -rode forth from Netterville, and, without even giving it a -farewell glance, turned her horse's head toward Dublin. - - - Chapter XIV. - -The city of Dublin, as it stood within its walls in the days of -the Protectorate, barely covered ground to the extent of an Irish -mile, and was built entirely on the south side of the Liffey. -That side, therefore, only of the river was embanked by quays, -and not even _that_ in its entirety; the space now occupied -by the new custom-house and other buildings, to the extent of -several thousand feet, being then mere ooze and swamp, kept thus -by the continued overflowing of the tides. - -To the north of the Liffey, however, there was a suburb, built, -as time went on and the exigencies of an ever-increasing -population required, outside the walls of the fortified city. It -was called "Ostmantown," now "Oxmantown," and occupied a very -insignificant space between Mary's Abbey and Church street; -Stoney Batter, Grange Gorman, and Glassmanogue, being merely -villages scattered here and there in the open country to a -considerable distance northward. A bridge of very ancient date, -the bridge of "Dubhgh-all," also at a later period styled the -"Old Bridge," formed the sole means of communication (except by -boat) between the city and its northern suburb. Built upon four -arches, and closed in on the Dublin side by a strong gate-house -with turrets and portcullis, the Old Bridge, like all others of -similar antiquity, was broad enough and strong enough to form a -sort of street within itself; shops being erected upon either -side, and traffic as busy and as eager there, as in the more -legitimate thoroughfares of the city. - -From Old Bridge men passed at once into Bridge street, (_Vicus -Pontis_ formerly,) a long, narrow thoroughfare, hemmed in on -one side by the city walls, and on the other by a tolerably -handsome row of houses. These houses were almost all built in the -cage-work fashion of the days of Queen Elizabeth, and roofed in -with tiles and shingles. Many of them also possessed inscriptions -which, cut deep into the wood above the doorway, stated the name -and calling of the owner, with the addition frequently of some -pious sentiment or appropriate phrase from Scripture. -{603} -This custom seems to have been a favorite one in Dublin, and in -the more antique portions of the city there existed houses, even -to a very recent period of its history, upon which might still be -read the names and occupations of the men who, more than two -hundred years before, had resided within their walls. - -On the day on which we are about to introduce Dublin to our -readers, there had been a considerable amount of stir and bustle -going on among its inhabitants, and more especially among those -of Bridge street. Rumors had, in fact, been rife since early dawn -of an expected rising of the rebels (as the king's partisans were -then styled by their opponents) in the north; and men speculated -in hope and fear, as their secret wishes moved them, on the -probability of the report. It received something like -confirmation in the afternoon, one or two regiments of recently -arrived English soldiers, armed from head to heel, and evidently -ready to go into action at a moment's notice, having been marched -out of the city and sent northward. Later on in the day, -moreover, it became known that the Lord-Deputy himself, Henry -Cromwell, the best of Ireland's recent rulers, accompanied by a -strong escort, was proceeding in the same direction, and might be -looked for at any moment at the "Ormond Gate," which shut out -Bridge street on the city side, just as the "Gate-house" closed -it on that of the Old Bridge. - -But if people stood at their doors and windows to do honor to the -coming of their king-deputy, there yet seemed to be another and -still stronger attraction for them at the end of the street -opposite that by which he was expected to appear. Eyes were cast -quite as often, though more furtively, in the direction of the -Old Bridge as in that of the Ormond Gate; for, in the midst of -other rumors, there had come a whisper, no one knew how or by -whom it had been first set agoing, that a person suspected of -belonging to the rebel party had just been arrested on the river, -having attempted, by means of a boat, to elude the passage of the -Old Bridge, and so penetrate unchallenged into the heart of the -city. - -There followed, as a matter of course, much secret and some -anxious speculation as to the rank and real object of the -arrested person, but no one ventured to make open inquiry into -the matter. Cromwell's brief reign of blood had stricken men dumb -with fear. To have shown the smallest interest in persons -suspected of belonging to the rebel party, would have been but to -have drawn down suspicion on themselves; and suspicion, in those -hard times, was too nearly akin to condemnation to be heedlessly -incurred. Instead, therefore, of going at once to the Gate-house -and ascertaining the real facts of the case from its guardians, -people were content, while awaiting the appearance of the -military cavalcade from the castle, to question and conjecture -among themselves as to the rank and real business of the arrested -man. A flourish of trumpets before Ormond Gate put a stop at last -to their gossipings. Heads and eyes, if not hearts and good -wishes, were instantly turned in that direction; the gate was -flung open, and Henry Cromwell, surrounded by a goodly company of -officers and private gentlemen, rode at a brisk pace through it. -A moment afterward, and he had swept past all the gazers, and -pulled up opposite the Old Bridge. The guard at the Gate-house -instantly turned out to receive him, the portcullis was drawn up, -and he was actually spurring his horse forward to the bridge, -when a girl, in the habit of a western peasant, darted through -the soldiers and flung herself on her knees before him. -{604} -The movement was so rapid and unexpected that, if the Lord-Deputy -had not reined up his steed until he nearly threw it on its -haunches, he must inevitably have ridden over her. A moment of -silent astonishment ensued. The girl herself uttered no cry, and -said not a syllable as to the nature of her petition; but as she -lifted up her head toward the Lord Henry, her hood, falling back -upon her shoulders, revealed a face of ashy whiteness, and there -was a pleading, agonized expression in the dark eyes she raised -to his, which told more than many words, of the inarticulate -anguish of the soul within. - -Henry Cromwell was not of a nature to be harsh to any one, much -less to a woman; but there had been information enough sent in to -him that morning to make him suspect a snare, and he turned -sternly for explanation to the chief officer of the guard. - -"What means this unseemly interruption, corporal?" he asked, as -the latter was vainly endeavoring to induce Nellie to rise from -her knees. "Is this maiden a prisoner? or if not a prisoner, is -she distraught, that she thus ventures, bare-headed and dressed -in such ungodly play-acting fashion, to rush into our very -presence?" - -"A prisoner of only half-an-hour's standing is she, may it please -your excellency," the soldier answered promptly, "she and her -companion! They were seen attempting to cross the river in a boat -borrowed from some of the natives on the other side, and as it -seemed to me that their purpose must needs be seditious to demand -such secrecy, I caused both to be apprehended, and have kept them -here to wait your honor's further directions in the matter." - -"Ormiston," said the Lord-Deputy, turning to one of the younger -of the group of officers behind him, "remain you here, and -examine, with Corporal Holdfast, into this business. If there be -aught which seems important hid beneath this masquerading folly, -follow me at once to Glassmanogue, where I shall have business to -detain me for a couple of hours; but if it be only, as I do -suspect, the silly freak of a love-sick maiden, in that case I -shall not look for you before to-morrow morning, when you will -bring me, as I have explained already, the last despatches which -may have come from England." - -Having thus somewhat summarily despatched poor Nellie's business, -but little dreaming of the great service he had done her in -appointing young Ormiston her guardian, Henry Cromwell dashed -over the bridge, and, followed instantly by his escort, galloped -northward. The moment Nellie saw that her efforts to hold speech -with the Lord-Deputy himself would prove in vain, she had risen -of her own accord, and, the hood once more drawn modestly over -her head and face, had stood aside to let him pass, with a calm, -sad dignity in her look and bearing which had its due effect upon -the rough soldier who had made her captive. He did not again -attempt to touch, or even to address her, but standing near her -silently and respectfully, seemed to wait until of her own accord -she should return with him to the Gate-house. Thus unmolested, -Nellie forgot his existence altogether, and equally heedless of -the crowd, which, having gathered in the wake of the Lord-Deputy, -was now gazing curiously and compassionately upon her, she stood -considering what her next move should be, when, in obedience to -his orders, Harry Ormiston -approached her. - -{605} - -As he took Corporal Holdfast's place beside her, Nellie lifted -her eyes to his face, and recognized him instantly as the young -officer who had been riding with Henrietta on the day of their -first meeting in the wilderness. A soft cry of joy escaped her -lips, and Harry Ormiston broke down in his half-uttered greeting. -_He_ also remembered her face--have we not already told our -reader that it was by no means one easily to be forgotten?--but -of the when or the where that he had seen it, he had no such -distinct a recollection. Silently, and with a look of timid hope -stealing over that fair face, Nellie drew Henrietta's missive -from her bosom and placed it in his hands. - -Ormiston glanced at the superscription, and with a flush of -honest joy mantling on his features, eagerly tore it open. -Scarcely, however, had he read three lines ere the scene among -the mountains, which had ended in his quarrel with his betrothed, -rose before him like a vision, and instantly remembering Nellie -as the fair girl who had been in some measure, albeit -unwittingly, its cause, he turned sharply upon Corporal Holdfast. - -"How is this, corporal? I fear me you have made some grave -mistake! This young maiden whom you hold a prisoner is the bearer -to me of a token from one whose zeal and faithfulness in the good -cause cannot be suspected--even from a member of the household of -that brave and God-fearing Major Hewitson, who has set up his -camp on the very edge of the wilderness, and thus made of his -small garrison a very tower of strength against the incursions of -the enemy." - -"Nay, and if your honor says it, it must needs be true," the -man--a bluff old soldier, with little pretensions to sanctity in -his composition--answered with suppressed impatience; "and -therefore I can only marvel that a maiden, known and esteemed by -the family of worthy Major Hewitson, should not only have sought -to cheat our vigilance by crossing the river privately in a boat, -but should have done so in the company of a man whom I myself can -testify to having been a chief of some repute in the army of the -Irish enemy, having crossed swords with him at the battle of -'Knocknaclashy,' as I think they call it in their barbarous -language, where he fought (I needs must own it) with a valor -worthy of a better cause." - -Major Ormiston turned, gravely but kindly, to Nellie. - -"I fear me much," he said, "that you have been but ill-advised in -all this business. Why not have presented yourself openly at the -bridge if the matter which has brought you hither will bear -investigation? and why, more than all the rest, have you come -attended by a person whose very company must needs render you -suspect yourself?" - -"O sir!" said Nellie, weeping sadly, as she began to fear that -even Henrietta's recommendation to mercy might perhaps avail her -little; "we had not the password, without which we never should -have been permitted to enter Dublin by the bridge; and our errand -is, alas! of such a nature, that every moment lost is of deep and -sad importance." - -"_Our_ errand," Ormiston thoughtfully repeated. "This -errand, then, is not entirely your own, but is in some way or -other interesting also to the man by whom Master Holdfast tells -me you are accompanied." - -{606} - -"He should have said 'a _gentleman_,'" Nellie answered, with -a slight rebuking emphasis on the latter word--"a gentleman who, -at his own great trouble, and, I fear me, risk, has enabled me to -accomplish this journey; in which, however, he has no other -interest than such as any kind and noble heart might feel in the -sorrows and perils of an unprotected girl." - -"Where is he--this other prisoner?" Ormiston asked, turning for -information to the corporal. - -"In the gate-house, sir, where we have him safe under lock and -key; for he was no prisoner to be left at large like this silly -maiden, who begged so hard to be allowed to see the Lord-Deputy -go by, that I found it not in my heart to deny her so small a -favor; for the doing of which, I trust I have not incurred the -displeasure either of your honor or of his highness the Lord -Henry." - -"Certainly not, honest Holdfast; you have acted both well and -mercifully in all this business. And now lead the way to the -gate-house, and trouble not your wits about this young maiden. I -myself will be her surety that she attempt not to escape." - -He offered his hand very respectfully to Nellie as he finished -speaking, 'and she suffered him to lead her in silence toward the -bridge. As they entered the gate-house, however, she quietly -withdrew her hand and glided from his side to that of Roger. - -Ormiston instantly recognized the latter as the dispossessed -owner of the "Rath," and an officer, beside, of some standing in -the recently disbanded army of the Irish. Courteously saluting -him, therefore, he informed him that he had been deputed by the -Lord-Deputy to inquire into the nature of the business which had -brought him to Dublin, adding an earnest hope on his own part -that it might prove to be in no way connected with political -affairs. - -"That, most assuredly, it is not," said Roger, pleased and -touched by the young officer's manner, and satisfied by -Henrietta's letter, which Ormiston still held open in his hand, -that he was addressing the person for whom it had been intended. -"My business is one which solely concerns this young gentlewoman, -and concerns her, in fact, so nearly, that if you cannot aid her, -as Mistress Hewitson half hinted that you could, I trust, at all -events, you will give me as much of my liberty for this one day -as may enable me to do so myself. I too am a soldier and an -officer. Major Ormiston, and you may trust me that I will not -abuse your favor." - -"Sir," said Nellie imploringly, "you have not read the letter--if -you would but read the letter! Mistress Hewitson half promised -that you would help me!" - -Thus called upon, Ormiston ran his eyes over Henrietta's letter, -which, concluding it to be on matters merely personal to himself, -he had been reserving for more private, and therefore more -satisfactory perusal. - -Nellie watched him anxiously as he read on, and with a spasm of -anguish at her heart she saw that, as he gradually took in the -nature of its contents, his first look of eager joy disappeared, -and was succeeded by one of deep and tender pity--pity which made -itself felt in the very accents of his voice, as he exclaimed: - -"Young Mistress Netterville! Good God! And I never even dreamed -of the relationship! Alas! that you should have come so far, only -to find sorrow and disappointment in the end." - -"Oh! not dead! not dead!" cried Nellie, terrified by his words -and looks. "Say, not dead--not dead--I do entreat you!" - -{607} - -"No, no!--not dead--_yet_," he answered nervously. He could -not bring himself to say that she was to die upon the morrow. - -"Nay, Major Ormiston," Roger here interposed, for Nellie was -sobbing in speechless anguish, "if not dead all is well--or may -at all events yet be well--for this most injured lady. I have -hope still--hope in the honor and justice even of our enemy. See -this paper! It was writ by the soldier who hath lately received -as his share in the Irish spoil the house and lands of -Netterville, and who is ready to aver on oath that he took it -down word for word from the lips of the very woman who did that -deed for which Mrs. Netterville stands condemned to die." - -Ormiston glanced rapidly over the papers which Roger had drawn -from his bosom and given to him. - -"Yes, yes!" he cried joyfully, "I doubt it not in the least. -Sergeant Jackson is well known as a man of truth beyond -suspicion, and these lines, moreover, do but repeat the defence -which the unhappy lady urged over and over again upon her trial, -insisting that the accusation against her was an act of private -vengeance. But all this can be discussed hereafter. Time presses; -and whatever is to be done to save her, must be done at once." - -"The Lords Chief-Justices," suggested Roger; but Ormiston shook -his head with a little smile of scorn. - -"Little likely _they_ to reverse a sentence pronounced in -their own courts!" he said. "No, no! it is to the Lord-Deputy we -must appeal. I will ride after him at once, and in a couple of -hours at the furthest you may look for me with the result. I -trust in God that it may be a good one." - -He left the room without waiting for an answer, and in another -minute they heard him gallop across the bridge. The next two -hours were passed by Nellie in an agony of expectation which was -painful to behold. She could not stay still a moment. Sometimes -she paced the narrow guard-room with rapid and impatient -footsteps--sometimes, regardless of the presence of the English -soldiery, she flung herself on her knees, weeping and praying -almost aloud in her agony. Every stir upon the bridge--every -sound from the street beyond, seemed to announce the return of -her messenger, and at these moments she would stand up, shivering -from head to foot in such a fever of hope and fear, that Roger at -last became seriously alarmed, and remonstrated firmly and -affectionately with her on her want of self-command. At last, to -his inexpressible relief, a bustle at the doorway announced -Ormiston's return, and a moment afterward the latter entered the -guardroom. Nellie stood up, as white as ashes, and utterly -incapable of either speaking or moving toward him. Shocked at the -mute anguish of her face, Ormiston took her hand in his; but when -she looked at him, expecting him to address her, he hesitated, -like one doubtful of the effect of the tidings he was bringing. - -"For God's sake, speak at once!" cried Roger. "Anything is better -for her than this suspense! Say, is it life or death?" - -"Not death, certainly--at least I hope not," said Ormiston, -vainly seeking in his own mind for some fitter words by which to -convey his meaning. - -The blood rushed to Nellie's temples, and the pupils of her eyes -dilated, but still she could not answer. - -"You _hope?_" Roger repeated sadly. He saw, though Nellie -did not, that there still existed some uncertainty in the matter. - -{608} - -"There is a reprieve at all events," he said, in the same joyless -tones in which he had before replied. - -The color faded from Nellie's cheek, and the gladness from her -eye. "Only a reprieve--only _that,_" she muttered, in tones -so hoarse and changed that the young men could hardly believe it -to be hers--"only that!" - -"But the rest will follow," said Ormiston, trying to reassure -her. "The Lord-Deputy will himself inquire into the business, -and--" - -"Nay, then, she is safe indeed!" Nellie interrupted him to say. -"With that confession, furnished by her chief accuser, her -innocence must be clear as daylight. O sir! she is safe--surely -she is safe!" she added, trying to reassure herself by the -repetition of the word, and yet sorely puzzled by a something in -Ormiston's eyes which looked more like pity than sympathy in her -joy. - -"Safe? I trust so--with all my heart and soul I trust so," he -answered gravely. "Nevertheless, my dear young lady, I would -counsel you, as a friend, not to suffer your hopes to soar too -high, lest any after disappointment should be too terrible for -endurance." - -"If she is reprieved, she will be pardoned; and if she is -pardoned, she will live," Nellie repeated slowly, like one trying -yet dreading to discover the hidden meaning of his words. - -"She will live," he amended gently; "yes, certainly, if God hath -decreed it as well as man." - -"Nay, if she is in God's hands only, I am content," said Nellie, -with a sudden return to confidence, which somewhat astonished -Ormiston. "I also have been in God's hands," she added, with an -appealing look toward Roger, "and can tell how much more merciful -they are than man's. Sir, I conclude from what you say that she -is ailing; may I not go to her at once?" - -"If you are strong enough," he was beginning, but she interrupted -him with a burst of grief and indignation. - -"How? not strong enough? and I have come all this way to see her! -O mother, mother!" she sobbed convulsively, "little you dream -your child is near, bringing peace and pardon to your prison!" - -Roger saw that Ormiston knew more than he liked to tell, and -asked in a low voice: - -"The poor lady, then, is very ill?" - -"Dying!" the other answered curtly. - -"Will her daughter be in time to see her, think you?" - -"In time; but that is all. She has burst a blood-vessel, as I -have just now learned, and this reprieve seems little better than -a mockery; for no one dreams that she could have survived for the -tragedy of to-morrow." - -"Then let Nellie go at once," said Roger promptly. "She has -ridden night and day to see her mother, and sad as the meeting -may be, it would be sadder still if they met no more. Let her go -at once." - -And so it was decided. - ----------- - -{609} - - - Newman's Poems. - - BY H. W. Wilberforce. - - -The little volume of poems published anonymously under this -humble title, [Footnote 179] produced an impression immediately -on its publication, not only among Catholics but among English -readers in general, which could hardly have been caused by a -volume of poems from any other writer of the day, with the -exception, perhaps, of the Laureate. The explanation is to be -found in the initials J. H. N. at the end of the preface--a -signature long ago of world-wide celebrity. - - [Footnote 179: _Verses on Various Occasions_. London: - Burns, Gates & Co. 1868. For sale at the Catholic Publication - House, 126 Nassau street, New York.] - -There may be those who feel surprised to find that a man chiefly -known as having been, under God's providence and grace, the main -author of the Oxford movement of 1833, should be found to have -possessed and exercised extraordinary poetical gifts. It may -perhaps be partly a lurking feeling of envy, partly a just -perception how rarely any one man combines numerous unconnected -powers, which makes the world at large reluctant to admit that -any man has greatly distinguished himself in a line far removed -from that specially his own. But that feeling, be its origin what -it may, does not in reason apply to the case before us, because -it would seem that the gifts which specially qualify a man to -produce a deep effect upon the hearts and consciences of his -fellows, to be the founder and leader of any great school of -thought, social, moral, political, or religious, are very much -the same as those required for the making of a great poet. - -This is at first sight so obvious, that we incline to think the -only real argument against it would be, an appeal to experience. -It will be said, there is a small class of men who have won among -their fellows (as if it were a title of honor formally secured to -them) the name of "the poet," and no one of them has been, except -in his own special art of poetical composition, among the great -leaders of human thought. But this is easily accounted for. A man -immersed for years in public affairs of any kind, however richly -his mind may have been stored with poetical images, and however -natural it may have been to him to have sought for them a -poetical expression, can rarely have had leisure to cultivate the -merely artistic part of poetical composition to the degree -necessary for success as a poet. It is hardly likely that in his -case there should combine the many accidental circumstances -necessary (over and above the possession of great poetical -endowments) for the composition, publication, and general -diffusion of any considerable poetical work. And even if all -these should happen to meet, the mere fact of being very greatly -distinguished in any other line is of itself, we strongly -suspect, enough to prevent any man from being chiefly remembered -as a great poet. The name of "the poet Cowper" is a household -word in every English family. But if "William Cowper, Esq., of -the Inner Temple" (as his name stands on the title-page) had -risen to the woolsack, we believe that, even though he might have -written the same poems, he would never have gained the title. -{610} -If indeed mediocrity in everything else had sufficed to gain a -high and permanent reputation for a man of equal mediocrity in -poetical talents, we should now have talked of Cowper's friend as -"the poet Hayley." But that the highest poetical genius does not -obtain the title for a man otherwise conspicuous, is proved by -the example of Shakespeare. Merely because he has left behind him -dramatic works to which the world affords no rival, not even the -preeminent poetical genius shown in his poems has caused the -world at large to speak and think of him as "the poet -Shakespeare." Nor would Dryden, despite of his matchless lyric -poems, have attained the title, if among his numerous plays he -had written Hamlet, Macbeth, and Lear. - -It seems to us that these considerations are enough to answer the -objection from experience, which might perhaps be urged against -our opinion, that the qualities which qualify a man to exercise a -deep influence on his fellows and make him a leader of the souls -of men, are in fact the same as those which qualify him for -success as a poet. - -We think this volume will convince most of those who read it that -we are right. The weighty and touching thoughts of these poems -bear the stamp of the same mint from which issued those volumes -of sermons, which, far more than any other work, have impressed a -permanent stamp upon the generation of English readers which is -now tending, as Dr. Newman says of himself, "toward the decline -of life." It is impossible to read them without feeling that, if -his life had been one of mere literary leisure, his chosen -employment would probably have been poetry. As it is, he has -evidently resorted to it, not when he was thinking of others, but -when he sought to relieve the fulness of his own soul. In this -world he has written in prose; his poetry has been the record of -his inner struggles and emotions, and has been written for -himself and his God. - -As long as any memory of the English nation and the English -language remains among men. Dr. Newman, we doubt not, will be -remembered and reverenced; not indeed as one of the few whom -poetry has made great, but as one of the great men who have -written poetry. And so far from deeming it strange that such -should be the case with the great author of the movement of 1833, -we, for our part, should have thought it strange if, in a man of -the highest literary culture, the intense feelings in which that -movement originated had not relieved themselves by poetical -expression. We believe, indeed, that few if any great moral -movements have taken place in which something more or less of the -same kind has not been found. Perhaps the most remarkable -exception was the change of religion in England in the sixteenth -century; the leaders in which not only produced no great poetical -work, but did not leave behind them so much as a hymn. This was a -striking contrast, not only to the contemporary movement in -Germany, and to that of the Methodists in the eighteenth century, -but also to that of the earlier Lollards. The explanation, -however, is not far to seek. Lord Macaulay says, "Ridley was -perhaps the only person who had any important share in the -English Reformation, who did not consider it as a mere political -job." Now, attractive as jobbing is to many very clever men, it -is hardly qualified to inspire any poetical afflatus. Cranmer was -too busy getting what he could for himself, to be musing over -poetical images. -{611} -Besides, the Reformation in England appealed not so much to men's -deeper feelings, as to their natural and reasonable dislike to -have their property confiscated and themselves imprisoned, -hanged, and cut up alive; and this last kind of appeal neither -needed nor encouraged poetical powers. - -To return to the volume before us, the poems were so evidently -written only for the author himself that it is our signal good -fortune that they have ever been published. The greater part of -them first appeared in a series called the _Lyra -Apostolica_, in many successive numbers of the _British -Magazine_, edited by the late Hugh James Rose, in which -several of Dr. Newman's earliest prose writings were originally -published. It was afterward issued in the form of a small volume, -the first edition of which appeared in 1836. By far the greater -part of it was supplied by Dr. Newman; the other poems, by five -of his intimate friends. [Footnote 180] - - [Footnote 180: These were John Bowden, "with whom" (Dr. - Newman writes in the _Apologia_) "I spent almost - exclusively my undergraduate years." He died just before Dr. - Newman became a Catholic. His two sons are now fathers in the - London Oratory.--Hurrell, Froude, whose noble character and - high gifts Dr. Newman has sketched with admirable force, - truth, and beauty, in three pages of the _Apologia_, - which he sums up by saying: "It is difficult to enumerate the - precise additions to my theological creed which I derived - from a friend to whom I owe so much. He made me look with - admiration toward the Church of Rome, and in the same degree - dislike the Reformation. He fixed on me the idea of devotion - to the Blessed Virgin, and he led me gradually to believe in - the Real Presence." He died February 29th, 1836, - "prematurely," says Dr. Newman, "and in the conflict and - transition-state of opinion. His religious views never - reached their ultimate conclusion, by the very reason of - their multitude and their depth."--John Keble, the author of - _The Christian Year_, of whom Dr. Newman writes - (_Apologia_, edition i. p. 75) words expressing deep - feelings shared by many who are now, by God's grace, members - of the Catholic Church. He died in 1865, and at this moment, - on his birthday, April 27th, the first stone of a new college - at Oxford, erected as a testimonial to him, and bearing his - name, is being laid by the Archbishop of Canterbury.--Robert - Isaac Wilberforce, second son of William Wilberforce. From - his earliest years his character seemed made up of truth, - purity, unselfishness, tenderness of affection, and - indefatigable diligence. As his great powers developed, they - showed themselves perhaps the more remarkable from their - combination with a degree of humility so extraordinary as to - be his chief characteristic. After a university career of - unusual distinction, he was elected fellow of Oriel College, - on the same day with Hurrell Froude, with whom he is classed - by Dr. Newman, in the _Apologia_, as one with whom he - was, "in particular, intimate and affectionate." He became a - country clergyman, and afterward archdeacon; and in 1838 - published (in combination with the present Bishop of Oxford) - the _Life of William Wilberforce_. His theological works - were all of later date. It is characteristic that he always - declared he would never have undertaken any of them if Mr. - Newman had not left the field unoccupied. In the opinion of - most persons, except himself, his equal in learning and - ability was not then left in the Church of England. In 1854, - he became a member of the Catholic Church, and died in 1857, - while studying at Rome for the priesthood.--Isaac Williams - was fellow of Trinity College, Oxford. He remained much - longer in Oxford, sharing Mr. Newman's intercourse and - counsels. In 1840, Mr. Newman dedicated the beautiful volume - on _The Church of the Fathers_ "to my dear and much - admired Isaac Williams, the sight of whom carries back his - friends to ancient, holy, and happy times." He is, perhaps, - best known by his published poems; but he has also published - a series of devotional commentaries on the gospels, of great - beauty and to which many are deeply indebted. He died in - 1865. Dr. Newman went to visit him in his country retirement - only a few days before. Our readers, we think, will feel an - interest in this brief memorial of a group of men so closely - connected with the collection in which many of these poems - originally appeared.] - -To these are added, in the present volume, a few of earlier and a -good many of later date. All of them seem equally to have been -composed without any view to publication, and considering that -their illustrious author has always been remarkable for a dislike -to put himself forward, and for an almost extreme susceptibility -of feeling, some persons may wonder that he has ever been able to -persuade himself to give them to the world. We do not share their -wonder; for we long ago came to the conclusion that it is by men -of the greatest natural reserve that the fullest confidences of -their inner feelings are not unfrequently made. In the common -intercourse of society such men display least of their real -feeling. But being distinguished from others by the depth and -strength of their thoughts and affections, more lasting -convictions and emotions, and greater self-knowledge, they can, -upon any call of duty, speak out most unreservedly and sincerely; -and the pain it gives them to make any revelation of their inner -selves is such that, to do it completely, costs them little, if -anything, more than to speak of themselves at all. -{612} -This, all the world sees, has been exemplified in the -_Apologia_, and in its measure it has been the same with the -_Lyra Apostolica_, and with the present volume. The poems in -the _Lyra_ were, nearly all of them, the expression of the -thoughts which crowded into the mind of Dr. Newman during a tour -in the Mediterranean, between December, 1832, and July, 1833. The -present volume adds very greatly to their interest by giving the -place and day of their composition. Thus, the poem headed -"Angelic Guidance" was written on the day on which he left -Oxford. In our days, in which a very few hours upon the Great -Western takes Oxford men to Falmouth without trouble or fatigue, -the date, "Whitchurch, December 3d, 1832," is interesting. -Whitchurch is a somewhat dreary and secluded village, at which -the direct road from Oxford to Southampton intersected the mail -road from London to Exeter and Falmouth. There was in those days -a coach to Southampton, to the top of which Mr. Newman mounted, -(the present writer and other Oriel friends standing in the -street, in front of the Angel Inn, to see the last of him.) -Before midday he reached Whitchurch, and there had to wait till -night for the Falmouth mail. We should be curious to know what -has become of the large inn at Whitchurch which was maintained by -this sort of traffic. It must long ago have been shut up. Mr. -Newman's life had hitherto been almost entirely confined to one -or two places, and now he was starting alone for distant lands, -and began by waiting many hours at a lonely and (_crede -experto_) sufficiently dreary inn. His thoughts turned to the -guardian angel who, as he already believed, bore him company. The -_Apologia_ tells us how early in life his thoughts had run -upon angels and their ministrations. He says of these lines: -"They speak of 'the vision' that haunted me. That vision is more -or less brought out in the whole series of these compositions." -We need hardly say how much these circumstances add to the -interest of the poem, which appeared in the _Lyra_ without -any explanation of the circumstances under which it was composed. - -It is impossible to read these poems without feeling how much a -man takes with him from home of the thoughts which are called out -even by the most striking and memorable scene. The events going -on in England--the evident decay of what he still believed to be -the "reformed church"--formed the coloring medium through which -he looked at all he saw. Thus, at sea, the day he left Gibraltar, -he wrote the lines headed "England:" - - "Tyre of the West, and glorying in the name - More than in Faith's pure fame! - O trust not crafty fort, nor rock renown'd - Earn'd upon hostile ground; - Wielding Trade's master-keys, at thy proud will - To lock or loose its waters, England! trust not still. - - "Dread thine own power! Since haughty Babel's prime. - High towers have been man's crime. - Since her hoar age, when the huge moat lay bare, - Strongholds have been man's snare. - Thy nest is in the crags; ah! refuge frail! - Mad counsel in its hour, or traitors, will prevail. - - "He who scann'd Sodom for his righteous men - Still spares thee for thy ten; - But, should vain tongues the Bride of Heaven defy, - He will not pass thee by; - For, as earth's kings welcome their spotless guest, - So gives he them by turn, to suffer or be blest." - -The _Apologia_ tells us that the golden lines, "Lead, kindly -light," were composed when the "orange-boat" in which the author -sailed from Palermo to Marseilles was becalmed in the straits of -Bonifacio. -{613} -It is not mentioned, we think, that it was in the darkness of the -night. They are here headed, "The Pillar of the Cloud:' - - "Lead, Kindly Light, amid the encircling gloom, - Lead Thou me on! - The night is dark, and I am far from home-- - Lead Thou me on! - Keep Thou my feet: I do not ask to see - The distant scene,--one step enough for me. - - "I was not ever thus, nor prayed that Thou - Should'st lead me on. - I loved to choose and see my path; but now - Lead Thou me on! - I loved the garish day, and, spite of fears. - Pride ruled my will: remember not past years. - - "So long Thy power hath blest me, sure it still - Will lead me on. - O'er moor and fen, o'er crag and torrent, till - The night is gone; - And with the morn those angel faces smile - Which I have loved long since, and lost awhile." - -"Off Algiers," in sight of the grave of that great African church -which produced St. Augustine, St. Cyprian, and Tertullian, is the -date of "The Patient Church," in which, in spite of all -appearances to the contrary, the writer, relying on the promise -of Christ, looked forward to the ultimate victory of the church, -and which begins: - - "Bide thou thy time! - Watch with meek eyes the race of pride and crime; - Sit in the gate and be the heathen's jest. - Smiling and self-possest, - O thou, to whom is pledged a victor's sway, - Bide thou the victor's day!" - -On December 28th, 1832, Mr. Newman caught his first sight of a -Greek shore. It is highly characteristic that the first thought -which it inspired to the most finished classical scholar of his -day in Oxford, was not of Thucydides, not even of Homer, but of -"the Greek fathers:" - - "Let heathens sing thy heathen praise, - Fall'n Greece! the thought of holier days - In my sad heart abides; - For sons of thine in truth's first hour. - Were tongues and weapons of his power. - Born of the Spirit's fiery shower. - Our fathers and our guides. - - "All thine is Clement's varied page; - And Dionysius, ruler sage, - In days of doubt and pain; - And Origen with eagle eye; - And saintly Basil's purpose high - To smite imperial heresy, - And cleanse the altar's stain. - - "From thee the glorious Preacher came, - With soul of zeal and lips of flame, - A court's stern martyr-guest; - And thine, O inexhaustive race! - Was Nazianzen's heaven-taught grace; - And royal-hearted Athanase, - With Paul's own mantle blest." - -At Corfu, the narrative of Thucydides brought to his mind the -thought which he worked out in the sermon on "The Individuality -of the Soul," published six years later; and in which he says: -"All who have ever gained a name in the world, all the mighty men -of war that ever were, all the great statesmen, all the crafty -counsellors, all the scheming aspirants, all the reckless -adventurers, all the covetous traders, all the proud -voluptuaries, are still in being, though helpless and -unprofitable. Balaam, Saul, Joab, Ahitophel, good and bad, wise -and ignorant, rich and poor, each has his separate place, each -dwells by himself in that sphere of light or darkness which he -has provided for himself here. What a view this sheds upon -history! We are accustomed to read it as a tale or a fiction, and -we forget that it concerns immortal beings who cannot be swept -away, who are what they were, however this earth may change." The -germ of that sermon is contained in the lines headed "Corcyra," -January 7th, 1833. - -The _Lyra_ contains some beautiful and well-known lines: - - "Did we but see, - When life first open'd, how our journey lay - Between its earliest and its closing day. - Or view ourselves as we one day shall be, - Who strive for the high prize, such sight would break - The youthful spirit, though bold for Jesus' sake. - - "But thou, dear Lord! - While I traced out bright scenes which were to come, - Isaac's pure blessings, and a verdant home, - Didst spare me, and withhold thy fearful word; - Willing me year by year, till I am found - A pilgrim pale, with Paul's sad girdle bound." - -They are headed, "Our Future. What I do, thou knowest not now; -but thou shalt know hereafter." It gives them a new interest to -find that they were composed at Tre Fontane, the spot of the -martyrdom of St. Paul. - -{614} - -The verses called "Day Laborers," composed while waiting at -Palermo for a passage home, (as is described in the -_Apologia_,) show the author's deep sense of having a work -to do. They are headed, "And He said. It is finished:" - - "One only, of God's messengers to man, - Finished the work of grace which he began; - ...... - List, Christian warrior! thou whose soul is fain - To rid thy mother of her present chain;-- - Christ will avenge his bride; yea, even now - Begins the work, and thou - Shalt spend in it thy strength; but, ere he save, - Thy lot shall be the grave." - -We have insisted on the peculiar value of the poems written -during this short tour, (the only one of the kind in which the -illustrious author has ever indulged himself,) because it adds a -new and special interest to compositions which, even when -published without any such interest, attained a wide and deserved -celebrity. He seems at the time to have felt that that tour was -to be the only distraction of the kind in a life of toil; and -that he was enriching himself with images of beauty (worthy, as -he says, in itself rather of angelic than mortal eyes) which were -to last him for many a long year: - - "Store them in heart! Thou shalt not faint - 'Mid coming pains and fears. - As the third heaven once nerved a saint - For fourteen trial years." - -That the remembrance has been fresh and keen, we see in the lines -on "Heathen Greece" written in 1856, and first published in that -exquisite volume _Calista_: - - "Where are the islands of the blest? - They stud the AEgean sea; - And where the deep Elysian rest? - It haunts the vale where Peneus strong - Pours his incessant stream along, - While craggy ridge and mountain bare - Cut keenly through the liquid air. - And, in their own pure tints arrayed. - Scorn earth's green robes which change and fade. - And stand in beauty undecay'd. - Guards of the bold and free." - -It is worth notice that the pregnant lines on "The Sign of the -Cross" were written before the author left Oxford, and while he -was as yet, as he expressly tells us, so ignorant of Catholic -doctrine that even when waiting at Palermo, just before he -returned home, he says: "I began to visit the churches, and they -calmed my impatience, though I did not attend any services. I -knew nothing of the presence of the blessed sacrament there." - -We might linger equally upon many poems which equally deserve it, -but pass on to those written since the author was a Catholic. -Among these are not to be reckoned the translations from the -Latin Hymns of the Breviary, which were made "in 1836-8." There -are a few which bear the date "Littlemore," a date full of -touching recollections to the friends of the author. It is a -hamlet locally separated from the parish of St. Mary's, of which -he was vicar, but belonging to it. He had built a church there -for the use of his parishioners, and retired there from time to -time for his own as well as their benefit. When he gave up his -connection with the Oxford movement, (as the _Apologia_ -shows,) he retired there altogether, and staid there till he -became a Catholic in 1845. Of those written since the author -became a Catholic the best known, probably, are "The Pilgrim -Queen," and "The Queen of the Seasons." It is indeed cheering to -find a great genius, who had so long been more or less crippled -by the chill, stiff system of Anglicanism, opening out, like a -flower beneath the spring sun--beneath the genial teaching of the -Catholic Church: - -{615} - - "But I know one work of his infinite hand. - Which special and singular ever must stand; - So perfect, so pure, and of gifts such a store, - That even Omnipotence ne'er shall do more. - - "The freshness of May, and the sweetness of June, - And the fire of July in its passionate noon. - Munificent August, September serene, - Are together no match for my glorious Queen. - - "O Mary! all months and all days are thine own. - In thee lasts their joyousness, when they are gone; - And we give to thee May, not because it is best. - But because it comes first, and is pledge of the rest." - -Apart from the freedom of thought which the author has gained -from the Church, ("Ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall -make you free,") there seems to us an ease and flow about the -very language and metre of these Catholic hymns which we do not -find equalled in the author's earlier poems, sublime as are their -conceptions. But it is remarkable that the poem which unites both -these qualities in the highest measure, is that which was -composed last, "The Dream of Gerontius." Like the others it seems -to have been written for the author alone, and to have been -published merely as an act of friendship to the editor of _The -Month_. Is it too much to hope that the high sense of its -exceeding depth and beauty which has been shown by the whole -English world may not only encourage the author, as he tells us -it did, to publish his collected poems in the volume before us, -but to compose more? For it is plain that as yet at least his -arms are not dimmed or his force abated. - -"The Dream of Gerontius" begins with the thoughts of one who -feels himself at the gate of death and the prayers of the -assistants by his bedside. Then Gerontius says: - - "Novissima hora est; and I fain would sleep. - The pain has wearied me. ... Into thy hands, - Lord, into thy hands. ..." - -And the priest says the commendation. Then follows: - - Soul Of Gerontius. - - "I went to sleep; and now I am refreshed-- - A strange refreshment: for I feel in me - An inexpressive lightness, and a sense - Of freedom, as I were at length myself. - And ne'er had been before. How still it is! - I hear no more the busy beat of time, - No, nor my fluttering breath, nor struggling pulse; - Nor does one moment differ from the next. - I had a dream; yes, some one softly said, - 'He's gone;' and then a sigh went round the room. - And then I surely heard a priestly voice - Say, 'Subvenite;' and they knelt in prayer. - I seem to hear him still; but thin and low." - ...... - -He does not yet know whether he is living or dead. Then he finds -himself held, - - "Not by a grasp - Such as they use on earth, but all around - Over the surface of my subtle being. - As though I were a sphere, and capable - To be accosted thus, a uniform - And gentle pressure tells me I am not - Self-moving, but borne forward on my way. - And hark! I hear a singing; yet in sooth - I cannot of that music rightly say. - Whether I hear, or touch, or taste the tones. - Oh! what a heart-subduing melody." - -Then follow the songs of the guardian angel over the soul which -he was set to tend. After a long while Gerontius takes courage -and says: - - Soul. - - "I will address him. Mighty one, my Lord, - My guardian spirit, all hail! - - - Angel. - - "All hail, my child! - My child and brother, hail! what wouldest thou? - - ...... - - Soul. - - "I ever had believed - That on the moment when the struggling soul - Quitted its mortal case, forthwith it fell - Under the awful presence of its God, - There to be judged and sent to its own place. - What lets me now from going to my Lord? - - Angel. - - "Thou art not let; but with extremest speed - Art hurrying to the just and holy Judge; - For scarcely art thou disembodied yet. - Divide a moment, as men measure time. - Into its million-million-millionth part. - Yet even less than that the interval - Since thou didst leave the body; and the priest - Cried 'Subvenite,' and they fell to prayer; - Nor scarcely yet have they begun to pray." - -We must not linger on the converse between the soul and its -guardian angel, nor at the marvellous description of the demons -in "the middle region," their impotent rage--impotent against -one who has now no traitor within. -{616} -Then he comes within the reach of the heavenly choirs. We have -the hymns of the successive choirs. At length, as they approach -"the veiled presence" of God, the soul hears again the voices it -left on earth, for in that presence the voices of prayer are -heard: - - Soul. - - "I go before my Judge. Ah! .... - - Angel. - - .... "Praise to his name! - The eager spirit has darted from my hold. - And, with the intemperate energy of love, - Flies to the dear feet of Emmanuel; - But, ere it reach them, the keen sanctity - Which with its effluence, like a glory, clothes - And circles round the Crucified, has seized. - And scorch'd, and shrivell'd it; and now it lies - Passive and still before the awful throne. - O happy, suffering soul! for it is safe, - Consumed, yet quickened by the glance of God. - - Soul. - - "Take me away, and in the lowest deep - There let me be. - And there in hope the lone night-watches keep, - Told out for me. - There, motionless and happy in my pain, - Lone, not forlorn, - There will I sing my sad, perpetual strain. - Until the morn. - There will I sing, and soothe my stricken breast, - Which ne'er can cease - To throb, and pine, and languish, till possest - Of its sole peace. - There will I sing my absent Lord and love;-- - Take me away. - That sooner I may rise, and go above, - And see him in the truth of everlasting day." - -Then follow the words of the angel, and those of the souls in -purgatory. At length the angel concludes: - - "Angels, to whom the willing task is given, - Shall tend, and nurse, and lull thee, as thou liest; - And masses on the earth, and prayers in heaven, - Shall aid thee at the throne of the Most Highest. - - "Farewell, but not for ever! brother dear. - Be brave and patient on thy bed of sorrow; - Swiftly shall pass thy night of trial here, - And I will come and wake thee on the morrow." - -Any one who has read this wonderful poem will complain that we -have omitted this, and this, and this, which especially deserved -to be quoted. It is most true. It would be impossible to give any -idea of its matchless weight and beauty, except by transcribing -the whole of it; and we have wished only to give a sample which -may direct to it the attention of any reader to whom it may yet -be unknown. - -The preface contains a dedication of the volume of Mr. Badeley, -one of Dr. Newman's Oxford friends and followers, who before this -time knows far more of that world of spirits than even the gifted -eye of the most illustrious seer has ever pierced; for he had -hardly received this dedication when he received his summons to -it. He was the son of a Protestant physician at Colchester, who, -many years ago, was the medical adviser of a convent in that -neighborhood, and created a good deal of suspicion among his -fellow religionists, by bearing testimony to the supernatural -nature of a cure of one of the nuns who was his patient. Mr. -Badeley himself graduated with high honors at Oxford in 1823, and -afterward studied the law, in which he attained a high reputation -and great success. He directed his special attention to -ecclesiastical questions, and hardly any case connected with them -came before the courts in which he was not retained. In this -preface Dr. Newman bears testimony to the fidelity with which he -followed the religious movement in which the volume originated -from first to last. He was counsel to the Bishop of Exeter in the -celebrated Gorham case, and his argument upon it was published in -a pamphlet which attracted much notice. He also published a book -against the alteration of the law of marriage. At last a new -light shone upon his path; he followed it faithfully, and it led -him into the Catholic Church. He was, perhaps, the only lawyer -from whom was actually accepted, on his conversion to the church, -a sacrifice of his worldly interests, nearly equal to that made -by many Protestant clergymen. -{617} -The loss of practice has no doubt been risked by all who have -become Catholics; by him, owing to the nature of his principal -business, it was in a great measure incurred, nor did he ever -recover what he had lost. But the time is short. It is but a few -weeks since he was cheered by Dr. Newman's words, "We are now -both of us in the decline of life; may that warm attachment which -has lasted between us inviolate for so many years, be continued, -by the mercy of God, to the end of our earthly course, and beyond -it;"--and his earthly course is already over; the sacrifice is -gone by. He is now able to estimate its real value. - --------- - - Sonnet. - - - Sharp lightnings flash, tempestuous thunders roll: - I shudder--and yet wherefore? For the dead - Sleep undisturbed in consecrated bed. - And thou, who didst yield up thy sweet, young soul - So mildly to thy Maker, and console. - By dying acts, the hearts which love thee best, - Must, even on this first night, sublimely rest - In thy still sepulchre, by yon green knoll. - Yet one, I know, will tremble as she hears - The storm above her darling; and each dart - Of the forked lightning will to anguish start - A legion of dread shapes and tender fears; - For who can sound the fountains of her tears, - Choice instincts, lodged in her maternal heart? - --------- - -{618} - - - The Second Plenary Council of Baltimore. [Footnote 181] - - [Footnote 181: _Concilii Plenarii Secundi Baltimorensis, - Acta et Decreta_. Baltimore: John Murphy & Co.] - -The good city of Baltimore witnessed, in October, 1866, the most -numerous and imposing ecclesiastical assemblage ever gathered in -the United States. Forty-seven archbishops and bishops, with two -mitred abbots, convened in Plenary Council, under the presidency -of the Most Rev. Archbishop of Baltimore, delegate of the -Apostolic See. For two weeks they met daily in consultation, -their labors being interrupted only by the solemn sessions -prescribed by the Pontifical. After a free but harmonious -interchange of ideas, they adopted practical resolutions, which -they embodied partly in decrees, partly in petitions to the Holy -See. Their work done, it was not published to the world, but sent -to the mother and mistress of all churches for revision, -correction if necessary, and final recognition or approval. And -now, almost two years after the celebration of the Council, the -ACTS and DECREES, as revised and approved by the Holy See, are -published under the authority of the same most reverend prelate -that as delegate apostolic had presided over the deliberations of -the council. The work is thus complete: the new legislation takes -its appropriate place in our canon law; an epoch is marked in the -history of the American church. - -From the beginning of the church, the celebration of councils has -been looked on as a most efficient means, under God, of -preserving discipline, arriving at proper conclusions on -practical matters, and promoting the common good. The very first -question that arose in the infant Christian community was decided -in the Council of Jerusalem, where the apostles and the ancients -consulted together. Every succeeding age saw councils meet to -decide ecclesiastical questions. Indeed, the history of the -church may be said to be a history of councils. Gradually, as -ecclesiastical discipline assumed regular outlines, and was -settled according to fixed rules, proper arrangements were made -for the regular meeting of prelates for consultation and mutual -consolation and enlightenment. It would be foreign to the -purposes of this paper to dwell on the ancient discipline in this -regard; but a short exposition of the actual law and practice of -the church will enable the reader properly to appreciate the -importance of the work of the late Plenary Council. - -The Council of Trent (Sess. xxiv. _De Reform_, c. 2) decreed -that the ancient practice of holding councils should be renewed, -and fixed a regular period for their celebration. Each archbishop -was to call his suffragans together every three years, and these -were strictly obliged to obey the summons. The object of these -meetings was "to regulate morals, correct excesses, settle -controversies and do all other things permitted by the sacred -canons." St. Charles Borromeo celebrated several such councils, -which were not only productive of immense good to the church of -Milan, but have remained as a pattern on which the proceedings of -all subsequent councils have been modelled. But councils of -bishops were not in favor with the civil rulers, whose aim it was -to fetter, and, if possible, to enslave the church. -{619} -They prevented the execution of the salutary decree of Trent, -which, with a few exceptions, remained almost a dead letter from -the time of St. Charles to the present century. To the church of -the United States belongs the credit of having revived the custom -of holding councils. Not long after the establishment of the -hierarchy, the first Provincial Council of Baltimore was -convened, and was followed in regular succession by others, held -every three years, according to the prescriptions of the fathers -of Trent. When new archiepiscopal sees were erected, Rome, -anxious that the American church should retain as far as possible -a uniform discipline, suggested the holding every ten years of a -plenary council, to be composed of all the bishops of the various -ecclesiastical provinces of the country, under the presidency of -a delegate to be nominated by the Holy See. Accordingly, the Most -Rev. Francis Patrick Kenrick, of illustrious memory, then -Archbishop of Baltimore, was appointed delegate apostolic, and -convened the first plenary council in his metropolitan church, in -May, 1852. The second should have been held in 1862, but the -civil war then raging made it necessary to defer it. As soon as -peace was restored, measures were taken to convene the prelates, -and, as we have seen, the council was actually held in 1866. - -The title "plenary" sounds odd to some ears, and has, if we -remember aright, provoked some little discussion in the public -prints. The term national is frequently given to the council in -common parlance, and would probably have been its official title -also but for the caution of the Holy See. Rome, enlightened by -wisdom from above and rich with the experience of ages, looks on -a tendency to nationalism in the church as one of the greatest -dangers that can arise, almost, indeed, as the forerunner of -schism. When she was about to propose to the American prelates -the decennial convening of a council of all the bishops of the -various provinces of the country, the question of the official -title at once arose. _National_ was not liked, -_general_ was too ample, _provincial_ too restricted. A -learned ecclesiastical historian suggested _plenary_, the -title given to the general councils of the African church in the -fifth century--councils rendered famous by the genius of St. -Augustine, and their explicit condemnation of Pelagianism. The -title was adopted. It avoids the narrowness of nationalism, while -it fully expresses the idea of a _full_ council of -_all_ the prelates of the American church. - -The object of a plenary council is plainly indicated by the Holy -See. Strictly speaking, provincial councils could provide all the -necessary legislation. But there would be danger of a loss of -uniformity. Even among the best persons, the old adage, that -where there are many men there are many minds, is verified. To -prevent this divergence of views from manifesting itself too much -in practice, it has been deemed advisable to call occasionally -all the bishops together, that their united counsels may adopt -such measures as will keep the American church one not only in -faith and in the essential points of discipline, but even in the -principal among the secondary matters of the latter branch. It is -not necessary to descant on the advantages of such uniformity. -The faithful, if they do not expect it, are at least edified and -consoled by it; and, for the great purposes which the church is -called on to carry out in this country, it brings into practical -effect, as far as is possible, the great motto, _Viribus -unitis_. To gain it were well worth the sacrifice even of fond -predilections and of cherished usages. - -{620} - -The plenary council, then, is to look to the wants of the whole -American church, and to do for it what a provincial council does -for an ecclesiastical province. Canon law is necessarily couched -in general terms, and cannot be applied in the same way -everywhere. A great portion of it, in fact, consists of decisions -given for particular localities under peculiar circumstances, of -which the principle only is or can be of general application. It -thus happens not infrequently that the general regulations have -to be modified to meet other wants, other times, other -circumstances. This is one of the first duties of local councils. -They propose, and, with the approval of the supreme pastor, enact -those regulations to which their wisdom and experience may point -as necessary to carry out the real spirit of the general law. In -these they do not contradict, much less abrogate; on the -contrary, they enforce the observance of the canons. We know -there is an impression abroad that "canon law does not oblige in -this country;" but a more erroneous or more mischievous idea -could scarcely have been propagated. If it be said that all the -circumstances contemplated by the canons do not exist here, and -that such laws as presuppose these circumstances are not, on that -account, applicable here, the proposition is correct; but, if it -be said that the law itself does not oblige, the proposition is -simply monstrous. We do not know whom it would affect worse, the -higher or the lower orders of the clergy, the religious or the -seculars. All would be very much in the same position; all would -soon be glad to return to the reign of law. If "canon law does -not oblige in this country," what becomes of the impediments of -matrimony? Where do the religious orders find the charter of -their privileges? On what does an aggrieved clergyman rely for -the right of appeal? Where is the proof that every Christian of -either sex, that has come to the years of discretion, is obliged -to approach worthily, at least once a year at Easter, the holy -sacrament of the blessed eucharist? The origin of the erroneous -idea appears to be, that, the organization of the church in this -missionary country not being yet completed, certain privileges, -generally granted by the Holy See, have been withheld; and, as -one case may easily occur to the clerical reader, we shall take -the liberty of using it to exemplify our meaning. The nomination, -institution, and consecration of bishops are inherently and -radically the exclusive right of the Holy See. No matter by whom -it may have been exercised at any time, if it was not in virtue -of a permission expressly or tacitly granted by the successor of -St. Peter, the exercise was a schismatical act. This no Catholic -can deny. By canon law the right of presentation of three names -to the pope has been granted, not to all the clergy of the -diocese, but to the cathedral chapter, a body in the composition -of which the diocesan clergy, by the same law, exercised but -little influence. In this country there are no cathedral -chapters; in fact, it is impossible thus far to erect them -according to the canons. The right of presentation of the three -names has been accorded by Rome to the bishops of the province -instead. This is an instance in which a privilege granted by the -canons to a body which has no existence among us has been -transferred by the supreme authority to another body that can -exercise it. -{621} -We are not now either blaming or praising the arrangement; that -would be beyond our province. We are merely stating what the law -is, and endeavoring to help to dispel an error which may be, if -it has not been, productive of evil. As canon law, then, does -oblige in this country, numerous questions must necessarily arise -in the application of its ordinances to our circumstances and -wants. The whole social fabric here is very different from that -of Europe when the decretals were issued. It thus becomes -necessary to adopt such measures as may save the principle of the -law, and, at the same time, avoid the inconvenience of a too -literal understanding. This is one of the first and most -important works of a council. It involves a patient and careful -study of the law; a thorough knowledge of the circumstances of -the country; a prudent foresight, which may be able to discern -what measure is most likely to be practically successful. We may -instance the question of the tenure of church property. If there -were in practice real religious freedom among us, if the church -were allowed to hold her property according to her own laws, -there would be no difficulty. The actual canon law would provide -for the security of the tenure, for the good use of any revenues -that might accrue, and for any rights or legitimate influence the -donors might reasonably expect to be allowed. But, at least in -most of the states, the wisdom of the legislature has interfered, -simply to prevent the Catholic Church from executing her own -long-tried, satisfactory laws on the subject. To save the vital -principle, the security and the independence of church property, -it has been necessary to adopt various expedients, which may be, -we do not doubt are, the best that could be devised under the -circumstances, but, considered in themselves, are far from -satisfactory. They, of course, are only temporary; and it is -ardently to be desired that the time will soon come when wiser -civil legislation will permit the execution of the mild and -equitable provisions of the canons. - -It is easy to see that a wide field is thus opened for the wisdom -and industry of the fathers of a plenary council. But "the -correction of abuses" is also expressly assigned by the decree of -Trent as one of the objects of their labors. To err is human, and -it is only too easy to fall away from the strict observance of -the canons. Such has ever been the experience of the church. In -this country, thank God, positive abuses are rare, if they exist -at all. There is a general desire to become acquainted with the -law of the church and to observe it as closely as circumstances -will allow. But necessity has, in the past, introduced many -customs which no longer have its sanction or excuse. Yet it is -found hard sometimes to leave the old paths and take the broad -highways of the canons or the rubrics. Sometimes doubts arise as -to whether the exceptions formerly allowed are still permitted. -Thus, there is ample matter for wise and cautious legislation, -neither so lax as to allow abuses to grow up, nor so strict as, -by substituting the letter for the spirit, to make the law kill -rather than give life. - -There must of necessity arise in the course of time many most -important practical questions, which can be nowhere better -decided than in council. Mutual advice, comparing of ideas, and -discussion naturally lead to wise conclusions. In a country like -ours, where so many cases arise which are without precedent, the -necessity of frequent counsel among the prelates is obvious. -{622} -And doubtless the regular celebration of councils has contributed -greatly to that success which has especially marked the external -government of the church in America. Fewer mistakes have been -made here, perhaps, than anywhere else in the same time, while -the successes have been great, nay, brilliant. The wisdom of the -old has been handed down to the young; the experience of one -generation has been used for the benefit of that succeeding; and -there has been an uninterrupted unity of practical views from the -days of Carroll to the present. Thus, England, Dubois, Bruté, -Kenrick, Hughes, though dead, still live. Not merely their works -remain behind them, but their spirit still speaks in the halls of -the archiepiscopal residence, and in the sanctuary of the -metropolitan church of Baltimore. - -Another special duty has been assigned by the Holy See to our -American councils--that of proposing the erection of new -episcopal sees, and the names of candidates to fill either them -or the older ones that may be canonically vacant. The erection of -new sees is a special feature of the church in new countries. -Every council of Baltimore has proposed the creation of new -bishoprics, and, in most cases, the propositions have been -favorably considered by the Holy See. The growth of the church -can thus be traced through the acts of the various councils, and -the steps can be counted, one by one, by which, from one bishop -at Baltimore, the American hierarchy has progressed to its -present development. Its growth has been more rapid than even the -material progress of the country; and as we look at the far West, -sure to become the happy home of millions of Catholics, -imagination is scarcely bold enough to call up the numbers by -which the bishops will be counted in future councils. We have -already alluded to the duty of selecting candidates to fill -episcopal sees. It is an important and a difficult task, -requiring the exercise of some of the highest qualities that -should be possessed by those who are, in the highest sense, -"rulers of men." The Holy See has been so impressed with its -importance and difficulty that it has earnestly urged that the -bishops of the province should meet every time that there is a -see to be filled. When, however, the vacancy occurs about the -time of a council, or when the fathers ask for the erection of -new sees, the question of candidates to be recommended must be -considered in its sessions. - -From this cursory glance at the work of a plenary council, it -will be seen that the two weeks given to the celebration of the -one lately held could have been by no means a time of rest. On -the contrary, the conscientious performance of this work required -the employment of every available moment. Every preceding council -of Baltimore had devoted itself to the attainment of the -different objects which we have indicated. The measures adopted -were timely and wise, and the legislation forms the groundwork of -our particular church law. Nor will we wonder at the success -attained when we think of the great names that adorned those -councils, of the illustrious prelates whose learning, prudence, -foresight, zeal, and piety instructed and edified the past -generation, and laid the broad and solid foundations on which the -grand structure of the American church is rising. All honor to -these great men! They were "men of great power, and endued with -their wisdom, ... ruling over the present people, and by the -strength of wisdom instructing the people in most holy words. Let -the people show forth their wisdom, and the church declare their -praise." -{623} -But the American church had grown out of its infancy, and it was -time to commence to build on the foundations so deeply and so -skilfully laid. It would have been impossible, even had any one -desired it, merely to re-enact in the second plenary council what -had been done before--merely to pass a few general decrees, -recommend the erection of new sees, provide for the filling of -them and of those already existing and vacant by apostolic -authority, and then separate. Had the council confined itself to -this, it would have failed of performing its allotted work. These -considerations had their due weight with the most reverend -prelate, who most fitly was chosen for the high and important -office of delegate apostolic. He determined upon a comprehensive -plan, the execution of which by the council should, by meeting -one of the chief present wants, impress its celebration and its -work in indelible characters on the history of the American -church. As early as April, 1866, this plan had been distributed -to the archbishops and bishops, the heads of religious orders, -and all others who of right were to be present at the council. He -next convoked a body of theologians to initiate the preparatory -studies. They were taken from the religious orders as well as -from the secular clergy; many of them were or had been professors -of theology or canon law; some were favorably known for high -offices they had already held or for well-deserved reputation for -learning. The _coetus_ met daily as long as the greater part -of its members could remain in Baltimore, and in that time the -main points were gone over carefully and thoroughly, and the -recommendations of the theologians thereon submitted to the most -reverend archbishop. Some divines who could not be present sent -their contributions in writing, so that we do not say too much -when we assert that the best talent of the country was employed -in these initial steps. The many occupations, however, in which -the greater part of the _coetus_ were engaged at home -rendered a protracted stay of all impossible, and the remainder -of the work was necessarily confided to a fewer number. The most -reverend delegate apostolic, himself a most indefatigable worker, -watched over all the proceedings. Every paper was submitted to -his final revision before it went to the printer. Indeed, as he -was the promoter, so he was in reality the principal of the -laborers in the great work, to which he brought learning, -improved by conference; judgment, matured not only by age, but by -long practice in every branch of the ministry; a ready pen, whose -labors, in other departments, for the cause of our holy religion, -had already procured for him a high and well-deserved reputation. -And we are sure his colleagues will not blame us if we say that, -under and after the archbishop, Very Rev. James A. Corcoran, -D.D., of the diocese of Charleston, deserves to be especially -remembered for his industry, his erudition, his talents. The -graceful style in which so many of the decrees are couched is so -peculiarly his own that it can never be mistaken; and it will -make the second plenary council remarkable for what, perhaps, -would scarcely be expected in this remote country--a Latinity -that would grace even the most finished documents that come from -Rome herself. The work thus went on until the drafts of the -decrees formed a large volume, which, for greater convenience, -was printed. -{624} -The inspection and the examination of it by the fathers and the -theologians of the council were thus rendered more easy; indeed, -it would be difficult to conceive how, without this preparation, -the work could have been done at all. - -As each bishop was entitled to bring two theologians, there was a -very large attendance of the clergy of the second order. To these -must be added many vicars-general, the heads of religious orders, -and the superiors of the greater seminaries. All these clergymen -were divided into congregations, after the pattern of the Milan -councils of St. Charles Borromeo. Each congregation was presided -over by a bishop, with a vice-president and a notary. This last -officer kept a minute of the proceedings of the congregation, and -drew up its final report. The whole matter of the proposed -decrees was distributed among these congregations, and thus the -preparatory work was subjected to a searching, minute -investigation. It may be here interesting to the general reader -to give a short account of the mode in which the business of a -council is managed. We learn from the acts that there were four -different meetings at the Second Plenary Council: - 1. Private congregations. - 2. Public congregations. - 3. Private sessions. - 4. Public sessions. -The "private congregations" were the meetings of the committees -or congregations of theologians, each in a separate room. The -"public congregations" were held in the cathedral, and there -assisted at them all the "_synodales_" that is, all who had -a right to be present at the synod, from the Most Reverend -President to the youngest theologian. At these congregations the -theologians "had the floor," the bishops confining themselves to -asking questions, or proposing difficulties. The "private -sessions" were meetings of the prelates alone. The officers of -the council were also present, but merely to record the acts. The -work of the council was really done in these private sessions. In -them the decrees were passed, and the acts show that there were a -close scrutiny and a thorough investigation of the measures -proposed. The "public sessions" were solemn ceremonies in the -cathedral. After pontifical high Mass, the decrees already passed -were solemnly read and promulgated. They thus became a law as far -as the action of the council could make them such. All that they -needed was the approval of the Holy See. - -In this manner the decrees of the Second Plenary Council of -Baltimore were prepared, examined, discussed, matured, until now -they are published as the law of the American church. In looking -over them one is astonished at the variety of matter on which -they treat. Faith, and the errors opposed to it now so prevalent, -the church and her government, the primacy of the Roman pontiff, -the powers, rights, and duties of archbishops and bishops, the -rights and duties of the clergy, church property, the sacraments, -the sacrifice of the Mass, and all the proper conducting of -divine worship, uniformity in the celebration of festivals, and -other points of discipline, the _status_ of religious, the -education of youth, good books, the Catholic press, zeal for the -salvation of souls, the spiritual welfare of the blacks, secret -societies--these are some of the subjects which, as even a -cursory examination shows us, are treated in these decrees. These -are, indeed, what the original plan intended them to be. They -give a clear and lucid exposition of canon law as adapted _by -authority_ to the circumstances of this country. -{625} -They supply a want long felt, and they will remain for all time -to come the guide and the rule of action of all ecclesiastics, -from the hoary missionary bowed down with age and labors to the -young priest whose elastic step leads him joyously from the -seminary walls to his first appointment, from the mitred prelate -to the humblest of the great army of missionaries that are -bringing to our countrymen the good tidings of peace. They are -clear and comprehensive; they were carefully prepared, every -quotation, even though it were of a few words, was verified; and -they are in every sense authoritative. Prescinding altogether -from their binding force, they were carefully prepared -originally; next, they were literally sifted by the theologians -of the council; afterward they were discussed, and sometimes -modified by the fathers; lastly, they were subjected to the -scrutiny of Roman theologians, and were finally approved with -very few emendations. They have thus undergone the trial of a -threefold criticism, and deserve proportionate attention and -respect. But, what is far more important, they are binding as -laws, and the S. Congregation _de Propaganda Fide_ has -expressed its wish that they be faithfully observed by all whom -it may concern. They have been, moreover, made by authority the -text of a course of canon law in our ecclesiastical seminaries. -The future clergy of the country are thus to be formed on them. -To the volume that contains them they are afterward to look for -enlightenment and instruction in the performance of the duties of -the ministry. Nothing more need be, indeed little more could be, -said in their praise. - -The Acts and Decrees have been published in a goodly volume, in -imperial octavo, by the well-known firm of John Murphy & Co., -Baltimore. We need not say that the material part of the book is -highly creditable to the publishers. The good quality of the -paper, letter-press, and binding is commensurate with the -importance of the work and the magnitude of the occasion which -brought it forth. The volume contains all the official documents, -from the first letter of Rome appointing Archbishop Spalding -delegate apostolic, to the last communication of the Cardinal -Prefect of Propaganda in regard to the decisions of the Holy See. -A copious and well-arranged index gives access to the mass of -matter scattered through the work, thus rendering as easy as -possible a reference to any given point. We congratulate Mr. -Murphy on the honor done him by the privilege of placing his -imprint on the title-page of so great and important a -publication. It is a fitting reward for many services rendered to -Catholic literature through a long and useful business career. - -We hail this volume as the beginning of a new period in our -American church, the period--_detur venia verbo_--of the -reign of law. It marks an improvement, a step in advance, a -progress. But the progress is legitimate, because it commenced -where all such movements must commence, if they be Catholic, with -the proper authority. A work begun, carried on, and brought to -completion as this has been, is--we need not say--a _safe_ -guide; and one for which, we may be permitted to add, every lover -of our holy religion should feel deeply grateful to those through -whose zeal and labors it has been accomplished. By it this young -church now takes her place with the most ancient and best -regulated churches of the Old World: a light is given to our -feet, lest inadvertently we stumble in the darkness: a sure guide -is afforded, alike to young and old, to prelate and subject, to -cowled monk and surpliced priest. - --------- - -{626} - - Translated From The French. - - An Italian Girl Of Our Day. - - - Concluded. - - -To any one who has read this sweet and pious correspondence I -need not point out how strongly toward the end it inclines to -heaven. Was it a presentiment of death? It may have been. We -cannot deny to certain souls the grace of having heard from afar -the call of God. For me, I think I see in this case the natural -movement of a very pure love in a lofty soul. There are souls -that see God everywhere. She of whom I speak was one of these, -and, from her infancy, all that was beautiful on earth had been -for her but a veil designed to temper the brightness of the -Eternal Beauty. Thus in the new and unknown regions of earthly -love, through the first wonder and the first dreams, she soon -found again the divine countenance; but this time more radiant -than ever, more vivid, more irresistible; and that chaste flight -which had carried her to the hopes of earth passed beyond and -bore her away to heaven. - -That a person has not had the happiness to feel this heavenly -attraction, is no reason that he should either wonder at it or -attempt to deny it. It is in the logic of our heart, and I -believe there are few souls that in various degrees have not felt -its power. It was known to ancient philosophy, whose greatest -glory it is to have expressed by the mouth of Plato, its king, -the progression of love from bodies and from souls to ideas and -to God; and St. Augustine, who bore in his heart the gospel of -Jesus Christ, has not rejected this part of the ancient heritage. -Who has not read that conversation at Ostia, in which two holy -souls, beginning with the love that united them on earth, came at -last to touch heaven? "We were speaking sweetly together, ... and -whilst we converse and look up to heaven, we reach it with the -whole aspiration of our heart." [Footnote 182] It is this -soaring, this upward flight that I speak of; this it is, I -believe, which carried the soul of the saintly young bride to the -desire of that eternal region where all desires are satisfied. - - [Footnote 182: St. Augustine's _Confessions_.] - -The heavenly instinct had not deceived her. Two days after that -on which she wrote the last letter we have given, a death-bearing -blast was breathed upon her, and she was seized with a slight -fever which at first gave no uneasiness except to the -ever-anxious heart of a mother. Yet on the very first day she had -said to her, "Take my little desk and keep it in memory of me." -These words were startling, coming from a person so -clear-sighted. The illness suddenly assumed an alarming -character, and the physicians recognized it as the miliary fever, -a terrible epidemic which was then desolating Tuscany, and which -seemed to pick out only choice victims. The young patient had -divined her danger; she at once asked for the sacraments, and -received with a humble and tender love the last visit of that -Saviour whose blood never fails us, from our cradle, which it -sanctifies, to our death-bed, where it -strengthens and consoles us. - -{627} - -The patient now felt herself better. "Great and happy day!" she -said; "if I am restored to health, never shall I forget it. What -strength there is in the holy viaticum! My dear mother, how sweet -and consoling is our religion! Ah! believe me, if any one feared -death, he could do so no longer after having received the blessed -Eucharist." Then she called her betrothed. "Gaetano," she said, -"if it is the good pleasure of God to unite us on earth, he will -restore me; but if he has other designs in our regard, then, my -Gaetano, we must be resigned and adore his holy will, must we -not?" The young man could not answer. - -She continued: "In my English prayer-book there is an act of -thanksgiving for the reception of the holy viaticum: take the -book and read it to me." And a voice, tremulous with sorrow, -began to read the following admirable prayer: - - "Glory and thanksgiving be to thee, O Lord! who in thy - sweetness hast been pleased to visit my poor soul. Now let thy - servant depart in peace according to thy word. - - "Now thou art come to me, I will not let thee go; I willingly - bid farewell to the world, and with joy I go to thee, my God. - - "Nothing more, O dear Jesus! nothing more shall separate me - from thee: in thee I will live, in thee I will die, and in thee - I hope to abide for ever. - - "I desire to be dissolved and to be with Christ; for Christ is - my life, and to die will be my gain. - - "Now I will fear no evils, though I walk in the shadow of - death, because thou art with me, O Lord! As the hart pants - after the fountains of water, so does my soul after thee: my - soul thirsts after the fountain of living water. Oh! when shall - I come and appear before the face of my God? - - "Give me thy blessing, O divine Jesus! and establish my soul in - everlasting peace; such peace as only thou canst give; such - peace as it may not be in the power of my enemy to destroy. - - "Oh! that my soul were at rest in thy happiness, and in the - enjoyment of thee, my God, for ever! - - "What more have I to do with the world? And in heaven what have - I to desire but thee, my God? - - "Into thy hands I commend my spirit. Receive me, sweet Jesus! - In thee may I rest; and in thy happiness rejoice without end. - Amen." - -When the reader's voice had ceased, the young patient wished to -take some repose. But she still seemed collected, and continued -to pray. - -Her brother was expected to arrive from Florence. "Settle the -room," she said to her mother, "and put back upon my table the -things that were taken off it when it was prepared for an altar. -I do not wish that poor Antonio should perceive, on entering, -that I have received the last sacraments; but remember, dear -mother, always look upon that little table as a sacred thing, for -it has borne the body of Jesus Christ." All that day she held her -mother's hand, and spoke of nothing but the happiness of having -received the holy communion. Toward evening she remembered that -she was to have visited such and such poor persons that day. This -thought troubled her, and she could be calmed only by the -assurance that before night some one should carry to those poor -persons their accustomed succor. From this time she began to -converse with Jesus Christ, speaking to him with an ardor which -the violence of her sufferings rendered more intense. "O Jesus! -this bed seems to me of fire--but no, I will not complain. -{628} -Thou willest that I should serve thee in suffering, and in -suffering I will serve thee. Thou knowest that I should not -grieve to die if my death did not cause such great affliction to -those who love me. If thou seest that I should make a good -Christian wife, I would say, 'O Lord! heal me!' But what is it -that I am asking? No, not my will, but thine be done!" In the -middle of the night, seeing her mother's shadow still bending -over her pillow, she exclaimed, "O the heroic love of mothers!" -She thought so much of the least things that were done for her. -"My poor father," she said, "how good he is; what care he takes -of me; for my sake he deprives himself entirely of sleep. He has -called in three physicians, and he wishes one of them to remain -night and day near my room. It is too much, my God! Mother, what -say you of my Gaetano? Ah! now indeed I feel how happy I should -have been with him; for the more I know him, the more I feel that -he loves me, as you love me." She asked to have prayers recited -by her bedside, and began herself in a low tone the prayers for -the agonizing. Her mother interrupted her. "Rosa, my child, why -these sorrowful prayers? You will recover, my child; do not -always be thinking of death." She answered, "Ah! but if all day I -have not been able to think of anything but death; if Jesus -wishes to take me, must I not be ready?" She suffered terribly; -one moment nature prevailed, and she uttered a complaint. Her -betrothed said to her, "Rosa, think of what our Lord suffered." -"Thanks, Gaetano; ah! how that thought consoles me!" - -The dawn of the following morning only brought an accession of -the malady. Three skilful physicians saw all their efforts -powerless against its violence. One of them, who loved Rosa as -his own child, wept. The patient became delirious. "Let us go! -let us go!" she cried; "dear mother, adieu! my home is not here, -my home is above! Let us go! let us go! adieu!" She repeated -these words, sometimes in French, sometimes in Italian. She -called her father, when he was absent, talking to him as if she -saw him beside her; when he was present, looking for him and -calling him still. She wept over the misfortunes of a poor widow -whom in her dreams she saw left destitute; the next moment it was -a little orphan that she cradled in her arms, and that drew tears -from her eyes. Nothing could calm her delirium, which was still -full of these charitable memories and images. At one time she -seemed to see the ladder of Jacob, and she exclaimed: "But I--am -I pure enough to go up with these angels? may I go forward? may I -join their choirs, I who was preparing for earthly espousals?" -She then recovered her consciousness, and asked for a chapter of -the _Flowerets_ of St. Francis on holy perseverance, during -the reading of which she cried out suddenly, as if struck with -horror, "O the evil spirits! the evil spirits!" Her mother -hastened to her, threw her arms round her, and pressed her to her -heart, saying, "Listen to your mother, Rosa, my dear child. Why -these cries? why these terrors? You need not fear the evil -spirits, my child; and they are not devils that surround your -bed, but the angels of heaven. Have you not always loved God? -have you not loved the poor? have you not been a good and -obedient child?" But her countenance grew stern. "Hush," she -said, "tempt me not to pride." And her face was overspread with -the shadow of a profound and austere humility. - -{629} - -Her delirium returned, and now with a violence that neither words -nor remedies could calm. As a last resource, her mother said to -her, "Rosa, my child, I am quite exhausted. If you could calm -yourself a little, I might lean my head on your hands and sleep. -Calm yourself, my child, for my sake." And saying this, she -affected to fall asleep. From that moment the poor child was -silent; love was stronger than delirium. - -A long stupor followed; an ivory paleness overspread her -features; the veil of death was upon her brow. The victim was -ready. But there is no victim without sacrifice, and no sacrifice -without pain. Jesus trembled and wept, and was sorrowful even -unto death in the Garden of Gethsemane. The hour of cruel -sacrifice was come for this young Christian. She felt the cold -iron of the sword, but again divine love remained victorious. -Suddenly she wakes, opens her large, terrified eyes, while the -blood rushing from her heart in an impetuous tide, crimsons her -face and lights up her eye. She seems to come out of a dream, and -now for the first time to understand all. "It must be, then!" she -cried, "it must be! I must die! I must leave my father's house! I -must leave my betrothed! No, no! I am to live with him, I am to -make him happy!" A flood of tears bathed her countenance; a cry -of anguish burst from her soul. "Adieu, Gaetano, adieu! we shall -see each other no more!" It was a terrible struggle in that poor -heart. The joyous preparations for her wedding had suddenly given -place to the dismal preparations for the grave. The bride seemed -to entwine her dying fingers in her nuptial wreath and to clasp -it convulsively--but, if it be God's will? - -Her mother put to her lips a picture of our Lady of Good Counsel, -which the young girl had near her bed. Instantly she became calm, -joined her hands, bowed her head, and remained perfectly silent. -What was passing at that moment in the superior part of that -beautiful soul? The eye of God alone, infinitely holy, can read -such secrets. What we know is that, after this long silence, the -dying girl pronounced in a clear, firm voice, the words, "Thy -will be done." And from that moment the name of Gaetano was never -upon her lips. - -She recited the Litany of the Blessed Virgin. At the invocation, -"Gate of heaven, pray for us," she pressed her mother's hand and -smiled. Did she then see the eternal gates opening? - -The Prior of San Sisto, her confessor, was by her bedside. She -asked for extreme unction, and answered distinctly to all the -prayers. An extraordinary grace of peace and resignation seemed -from that moment to have entered her soul. She needed consolation -no longer; it was she who now consoled and encouraged all around -her. Her poor mother, wild with grief, threw herself upon her -bosom. "I still hope," she said, sobbing; "yes, my Rosa, I still -hope that you will recover; but if this be not God's will, oh! -pray to him, supplicate him to call me also to himself. I will -not, I cannot live without you!" But Rosa said, "No, mother, you -must not wish for death. You have too many duties to accomplish -upon earth; remember the mother of the Machabees." Then -stretching out her hand and laying it on the head of the -sorrow-stricken woman, she said, "I bless her who has so often -blessed me! O Blessed Virgin! change the sorrow of this poor -mother into the consolation of the poor, the afflicted, and the -sick; and do thou, O my God! grant that we may all adore unto the -end thy holy decrees." She drew from her finger a little ring, -and said to her mother, "Keep that in remembrance of me;" and -placing in her hands the ring of her betrothal, she said, "Give -that to--you know whom--it is a noble soul." But she spoke not -his name. - -{630} - -The end drew near; her family and friends surrounded her bed; -every one was weeping. She said smiling, "You are all around me, -I am very happy; thanks." Then suddenly, "Who wishes to have my -hair?" No one ventured to answer. A long, half-reproachful look -was cast on the weeping faces around. A voice cried, "_I_ -do." Rosa recognized it and said, "My mother shall have it." - -She motioned to the Prior of San Sisto to come to her, and said -to him in a whisper, "I beg of you to return this evening to my -poor mother and do all you can to console her." From this time -she seemed to retire to the feet of God, henceforth to speak to -him alone. She said, "I suffer, my Jesus, but all for thy love! I -do not fear hell, because I love thee too much. I am on fire, I -am in flames! O Jesus! burn me, consume me in the flames of thy -love!" It was now with difficulty that these holy ejaculations -came from her oppressed bosom. Again, however, and for the last -time, she rallied. Death had a hard struggle with her vigorous -and innocent youth. This time the dying girl spoke the very -language of the saints, and her farewell to earth was worthy of a -St. Catharine of Sienna. "O Lord!" she said, "bless all men! -bless this city of Pisa! bless her people! bless her bishop and -her pastors! bless the Catholic Church! bless her sovereign -Pontiff! bless her ministers and her children! Have pity on poor -sinners; enlighten heretics; be merciful toward those who believe -in thee, merciful also to those who believe not. Pardon all; be a -loving Father to the good and to the wicked. Have pity on my -soul, O Immaculate Virgin! Give to all thy peace, O Jesus!--that -peace--" She was silent. A film gathered over her eyes; they saw -no longer the things of earth, but a better light began to dawn -on them. "Yes, yes," she murmured, "I see now; I begin to see--O -the heavenly Jerusalem! O the angels! oh! how many angels! How -beautiful! Yes, certainly, willingly, my God! Where am I? who -calls me? where then? Let us go! let us go, my God! Let us go -forward! _Andiamo! andiamo! avanti!_--" The words died on -her lips; she made the sign of the cross, kissed the crucifix, -and while mortal eyes still sought her upon earth, she was -following the Lamb in the eternal choirs of the virgins. - -Such is this beautiful death, every detail of which we have -learned from her who, after having assisted at the sacrifice, did -not die, but, like Mary, had to come down living from Calvary. - -Will I be pardoned if I add some reflections on these letters and -this narration? I said when commencing them that, as it seemed to -me, they glorified Christianity in the two-fold transfiguration -of love and of death. It seems to me yet clearer, now that I have -finished them, that this is indeed their characteristic and their -merit. - -Yes, it is the glory of Christianity to have rendered possible, -nay frequent, this sanctity of love which ancient philosophy -pursued in its dreams, but which it had never either contemplated -or exemplified. It is the glory of Christianity to have so well -schooled, so well regulated the heart of man, to have made that -heart at once so virginal and so strong, as to be capable of -loving more, and better than ever, all that is lovable on earth, -and at the same time capable of always loving it less than God. -{631} -It is the glory of Christianity to have made a young girl--not a -philosopher, not a poet, but a simple and pious girl--to realize -unconsciously in her heart that sublimest conception of human -wisdom; the continual, incessant passage of love from the shadows -of being and of beauty, to the infinite being and the infinite -beauty, from "divine phantoms," to use the expression of Plato, -to the eternal reality. It is the glory of Christianity to have -in all things opened to man a road toward God; to have taught him -to make all his affections serve as so many steps whereby he may -ascend to the absolute love: "In his heart he hath disposed to -ascend by steps." [Footnote 183] In fine, it is the glory of -Christianity to have worked this prodigy, that a holiness so -extraordinary, a perfection so superhuman, neither destroys nor -fetters the pure affections of earth; so that the saints did not -attain to the loving God alone by stifling in their hearts all -love for their fellow-beings; but, on the contrary, they learned -to love all mankind more than themselves, by first loving God -above all. - - [Footnote 183: Psalm lxxxiii. 6.] - -Whoever, after seeing this, will meditate on the nature of the -human heart, and on its history when abandoned to itself, will be -forced to admit that here is indeed a transfiguration. - -And as regards death, I find this transfiguration to be, if -possible, more striking still. Death learned upon the cross that -its highest office is to be the auxiliary of love. There an -indissoluble fraternity was established between these two great -forces; and _there_ love received its mission to transform -death into sacrifice. The ideal statue of the dying Christian is -not then the ancient gladiator, falling, resigned but passive, -his head bowed, his dim eye fixed on the earth which is fast -escaping from him, impatient for the approach of nothingness, -plunging willingly into eternal night. No; his ideal is the -Crucified, dying erect, above the earth, "_exaltatus a -terra_" in the attitude of the priest at the altar, pardoning -all men, loving them to his latest breath, acquiescing in his -death, nay, willing it, making himself the solemn deposit of his -soul into the hands of his Father, at once the subject and the -king of death, at once priest and victim. - -Such is the Christian fraternity of Love and Death. - -Hence it is, that through the differences of ages, of conditions, -of minds, all holy deaths resemble one another; it is still love -ruling death and transforming it into sacrifice. We have just -portrayed the last hours of a betrothed bride who died in -sacrificing to Jesus Christ her nuptial crown; ere while we -followed through tears of admiration the account of another -death, grander, more celebrated, more striking. [Footnote 184] - - [Footnote 184: These lines were written a few days after the - death of the Rev. Father de Ravignan. We give them to-day - just as the first emotion dictated them, persuaded that time - cannot take from the virtues of the saints their eternal - actuality.] - -Now, what similitude could we expect to find between the last -hours of a holy religious, an illustrious orator, a great and -heroic soul, and those of a simple young girl, strong only in her -innocence? And yet I venture to compare these two deaths, and the -longer I consider them the more do I find that they resemble each -other, that they are blended together in one ruling sentiment; -they are both a sacrifice, and a sacrifice conducted by love. -Sacrifices very different, victims very unequal, I admit. What -peace in the death of the holy Father de Ravignan; or rather, -what triumph of the Christian will over death! How he rules it! -{632} -He speaks of "this last affair which is to be conducted, like all -others, with decision and energy;" he gives the directions for -the sacrifice; he offers it himself! When did he more truly live -than on that bed of death? when was he more wakeful than in that -seeming sleep! Then was he so strong and vigorous that he seemed -to dominate death itself; in this resembling, as far as is -possible to man, Christ upon the cross, whom, say the doctors, -death could not approach except by his express order. What love, -in fine, in his every word and in those desires of heaven, for -the impatience and the ardor of which he reproaches himself! For -my part, I fancy I see him welcoming death, for which he had been -preparing himself for more than thirty years, with that grave, -sweet smile whose charm was so extraordinary. - -The young bride of Pisa is far from this severe grandeur. There -are tears, there are regrets in her last farewell. There is one -earthly name that lingers on her lips even to the confines of -heaven. She does not command death--she obeys it; and yet here, -too, I see an altar, a victim a sacrifice. Here, too, I see the -will, more tremulous, more surprised, indeed, than in the great -religious, but still armed by love, ending by _conducting -itself the last affair_, and by absorbing death in its -victory. Once again, what becomes of death in such deaths? where -is it? It seems to disappear: "Death, where is thy victory? Where -is thy sting? It is swallowed up!" - -Let our souls become inebriated with hope at the recital of holy -deaths; let us yield ourselves without fear to the attraction -which they give us for the life to come. Undoubtedly, the true -secret of dying well is to live well; and our imperfection does -not allow us to treat death as may the saints. But surely the -love which transfigured their death, is at least begun in our -souls; it may increase, and, the hour come, may transform for us -also the supreme defiles into regions of light and peace. - -Among the paintings which have been found in the catacombs of -Rome, there is one that has always struck me as having a profound -meaning: it is a jewelled cross, from all sides of which spring -stems of roses, which bloom around it, and cover its severe -nudity. [Footnote 185] - - [Footnote 185: Two of these crosses, adorned with gems and - flowers, have been discovered among the frescoes of the - cemetery of St. Pontianus, whose origin seems to have been - anterior to the third century. One of them surmounted an - altar; the other, which decorated a baptistery, is one of the - most valued monuments of Christian archaeology. Throughout - its entire height, and on both arms, it is covered with - precious stones, richly figured, alternately square and oval. - The two arms support flambeaux, with the flame clearly - outlined; from them also depend two little chains, at the - extremity of which are suspended the traditional Alpha and - Omega. From the foot of the cross to the arms spring on both - sides stems of roses covered with leaves and flowers. - Directly under this painting was the baptismal font, formed - from a stream whose waters, ever smooth and limpid, seem even - now, after the lapse of fourteen centuries, to await the - immersion of the catechumens. - - The discovery in a baptistery of this cross enveloped in - splendor, light, and love, authorizes our conjectures as to - the signification it must have had in relation to the - neophytes. This precious fresco is carefully reproduced in - the great work of M. Perret on the Roman catacombs.] - -It is very rarely that the cross is found in the catacombs. -Perhaps for the tender faith of the neophytes it was dreaded-the -sight of that instrument of torture which was yet odious to -the whole world, and was dragged daily through the streets for -the punishment of slaves. It was, doubtless, to assist the -transition from horror to love that the Christian instinct had -covered that cross with precious stones and blooming roses, red -still with a blood shed by Divine love for the salvation of -mankind. Be that as it may, this symbol seems to me to express -gloriously the transfiguration of death by Christianity. Ah! -neophytes that we are, neophytes of death and a life to come, let -us regard the dying moment as a cross which Jesus and his saints -have covered for us with encouragement and hope. -{633} -When the children of the first Christians wondered to see a -gibbet on the altar, their fathers pointed to the jewels and -roses, and told them of the Redeemer's love. If death terrifies -us in its austere nakedness, let us look at the love which can -transfigure it, and can make our last hour the happiest, and -above all, the most precious in our life. - -Rosa Ferrucci was mourned. The whole public press of Tuscany told -of her death; poets chanted it; inscriptions were composed in her -honor,--the Italian scholars excel in this art so little -cultivated among us;--I transcribe one which I think touching: - - CHASTE YOUTHS, TENDER VIRGINS, - DECORATE WITH TEARS - THE TOMB OF ROSA FERRUCCI, - SWEETEST GIRL, - IN THE POLITE ARTS - VERSED BEYOND THE CUSTOM OF WOMEN; - WHO, - ON THE VERY EVE OF MARRIAGE, - WHILST UNACCUSTOMED JOYS FILLED HER SILENT BREAST, - COMPLETED HER YOUTHFUL LIFE - SECURE. - - -_Secura!_ beautiful word--word full of peace! and yet less -eloquent than one single word which I once read on a fragment of -marble taken from the Roman catacombs, [Footnote 186] and which I -now bring to the tomb of her who has passed from earthly -espousals to the nuptials of the Lamb. The case here also was -that of a young Christian maiden. Was she affianced like Rosa -Ferrucci? Was it the hand of a betrothed spouse that closed her -tomb? The word we speak of, does it indicate her virginal glory, -or was it her name? The little stone saith not. All that we know -is, that the hand which carried into the consecrated galleries -the mortal remains of the young Christian, after having marked -the place of her repose, took a fragment of marble, laid it -against the opening, fastened it by a little clay, and choosing a -word among those which the Gospel had just given or explained to -the world, engraved these six letters: - - "Chaste," - - [Footnote 186: This fragment is now preserved among the - _monumenta vetera Christianorum_ in the Belvedere gallery - of the Vatican.] - -------------- - - Memoirs Of Count Segur. - - -To record the actions and opinions of one who labored efficiently -in the attainment of American independence is an agreeable task. -The deeds of soldiers are always interesting to the historian and -attractive to the reader. The philosophical principles that led -gay young men from the brilliant capital of France to the distant -regions of a new world, in order to practically assist in the -assertion of human liberty, cannot be ignored, much less -neglected, in our all-investigating age. Count Segur participated -in the stirring scenes over which the genius of Washington -presided, and he has transmitted to us the treasure of his -experience in the first volume of his memoirs. As he lived in the -times preceding the great Revolution which overthrew so many old -forms of power and honor throughout Christendom, and as his -facilities for obtaining a correct knowledge of the state of -society and of systems in his day were extensive, his -introductory pages are very instructive. -{634} -This will appear from one comprehensive sentence of his own: "My -position, my birth, the ties of friendship and consanguinity, -which connected me with all the remarkable personages of the -courts of Louis XV. and Louis XVI.; my father's administration, -my travels in America, my negotiations in Russia and in Prussia; -the advantage of having been engaged in intercourse of affairs -and society with Catharine II., Frederick the Great, Potemkin, -Joseph II., Gustavus III., Washington, Kosciusko, Lafayette, -Nassau, Mirabeau, Napoleon, as well as with the chiefs of the -aristocratic and democratic parties, and the most illustrious -writers of my times;--all that I have seen, done, experienced, -and suffered during the Revolution; those strange alternations of -prosperity and misfortune, of credit and disgrace, of enjoyments -and proscriptions, of opulence and poverty; all the different -occupations which I have been forced to occupy, and the various -conditions of life in which fate has placed me--having induced me -to believe that this sketch of my life would prove entertaining -and interesting; chance having made me successively a colonel, a -general officer, a traveller, a navigator, a courtier, the son of -a minister of war, an ambassador, a negotiator, a prisoner, an -agriculturist, a soldier, an elector, a poet, a dramatic author, -a contributor to newspapers, an essayist, a historian, a deputy, -a counsellor of state, a senator, an academician, and a peer of -France:"--Certainly a catalogue of sufficiently varied offices, -winding up rather prosperously! - -The family of Segur was ancient and honorable. In the field and -in the cabinet his forefathers had distinguished themselves, and -our author helped to extend his ancestral reputation. Highly -gifted by nature, his ample opportunities of cultivation and -acquirement made him familiar with the various branches of -science then taught. He became deeply imbued with those -philosophical notions that had begun to spread themselves abroad -under the reign of Louis XV., and continued to gather might until -they brought his successor to the block, and even still keep -Europe in a state of unrest. From 1753 to 1774, when Louis XV. -died, young Segur had occasion to learn as much as his youthful -judgment would enable him, concerning the wretched state of -society around the court of that weak and degraded prince. It was -under his reign, or rather that of his mistresses--for their -influence had more to do with the government than the -king's--that the storm was brewed which swept away with terrible -force so many corrupt systems of legislation and social life. The -philosophers began to point their weapons against ancient -customs. Parliamentary decrees came to the assistance of the -latter, but "their acts of rigor against philosophical writings -produced no other effect than to cause them to be sought after -and read with a greater avidity. Public opinion became a power of -opposition which triumphed over every obstacle; the condemnation -was a title of consideration for its author; and under the reign -of an absolute monarch, liberty having become a fashion in the -capital, exercised a greater sway in it than the monarch -himself." Who can fail to see that such results will always -inevitably follow similar proceedings! Human nature has something -imperatively logical in it, and it will act according to its -laws, which are nothing else than the laws of Providence. -{635} -There is a deep philosophy in what he says: "Power was still -arbitrary, and yet authority lost its influence; public opinion -escaped despotism by railing at it; we did not possess liberty, -but license." (P.17.) The lethargy of one weak mind produced all -this confusion. The parliament, clergy, philosophers, and -courtiers, all joined for different purposes in the same common -cry against the shameful indolence of the court. The revolution -which was silently moving through public opinion was scarcely -dreamed of by anybody. Rash measures of resentment, always the -resort of weak and tyrannic minds, only served to irritate what -had been provoked, and the folly of the king was shown in small -acts of petty tyranny. But death came to remove him and his -turpitude from the French throne. Segur narrates it: "In the -month of April, 1774, as Louis XV. was going to hunt, he met a -funeral, and, being fond of asking questions, he approached the -coffin and inquired who it was they were going to bury? He was -told it was a young girl who had died of the small-pox. Seized -with a sudden fear, he returned to his palace, and was two days -afterward attacked with that cruel malady, the very name of which -had alarmed him. The hand of death was upon him; his flesh became -corrupted; mortification ensued, and carried him off. His corpse -was covered with lime, and conveyed to St. Denis without any kind -of ceremony." (P. 32.) - -He proceeds to philosophize upon the desertion of the royal -fallen shadow by his most subservient flatterers, and observes -that in proportion as they had been slavish to his whims and -their own interests during his life, so did they evince their -indifference to him when departed. They turned immediately to the -rising sun, and offered him their adulatory worship. Still, the -principles which had been set to work in former years continued -to advance even under the benignant reign of Louis XVI., who -finally atoned for the faults of his predecessors. - -The author sums up succinctly the condition of the tottering -society, daily becoming weaker: "The object of every one was to -repair the old edifice; and, in this simultaneous attempt of all, -it was levelled with the ground. Too much light was brought to -the work by many, and a conflagration ensued. The consequence of -this has been, that, for the last fifty years, our harassed lives -have been to each of us a dream, alternately monarchical, -republican, warlike, and philosophical." (P. 63.) The misfortune -is, that this dreaming has not yet ended in France, or, indeed, -in any part of Europe except Switzerland. - -But we must hasten to the events which drew him into connection -with the American war. He became a soldier, and, after fighting -several duels, found himself carried away by the enthusiasm which -filled his countrymen at the sound of the first cannon-shot fired -in defence of the standard of liberty. "I recollect," he says, -"that the Americans were then styled insurgents and Bostonians; -their daring courage electrified every mind, and excited -universal admiration, more particularly among young people. The -American insurrection was everywhere applauded, and became, as it -were, a fashion; and I was very far from being the only one whose -heart beat at the sound of liberty just waking from its slumbers, -and struggling to throw off the yoke of arbitrary power. On my -arrival at Paris, I found the same agitation prevailing also -there in the public -mind. -{636} -Nobody seemed favorable to the cause of England; all openly -expressed their wishes for the success of the Bostonians." - -Eager as were these young enthusiasts to fight in America for the -cause of liberty, many obstacles interposed to prevent or defer -the carrying out of their intentions. The French government was -not in a very prosperous financial state at the time, as the -country had scarcely recovered from the mad speculations of the -Scotchman Law during the preceding reign. Besides, England was -then powerful: her fleets swept the sea, and she had just -conveyed across the Atlantic 40,000 mercenaries, to cut the -throats of American freemen and stifle the rising spirit of -liberty. Private aid was, indeed, freely afforded to the -colonists; arms and ammunition were conveyed across the ocean in -spite of embarrassing neutrality laws, and many enterprising -officers were allowed to resign their positions in the French -service and serve under Washington. When the American deputies, -Silas Deane, Arthur Lee, and Benjamin Franklin, arrived in Paris, -and were received with such cordiality at the French court, a new -stimulus was given to the general desire of assisting the -revolutionists. The appearance of those republican delegates -produced a sensation in that brilliant capital. "Nothing could be -more striking than the contrast between the luxury of our -capitol, the elegance of our fashions, the magnificence of -Versailles, the still brilliant remains of the monarchical pride -of Louis XIV., and the polished and superb dignity of our -nobility, on the one hand; and, on the other hand, the almost -rustic apparel, the plain but firm demeanor, the free and direct -language of the envoys, whose antique simplicity of dress and -appearance seemed to have produced within our walls, in the midst -of the effeminate and servile refinement of the eighteenth -century, some sages contemporary with Plato, or republicans of -the age of Cato and Fabius." (P. 101.) - -No less impressive than their unpretending exterior, the honesty -and artless sincerity of the American deputies gained the hearts -of the French people, and enlisted in their cause the generous -enthusiasm of the warlike portion of the nation. Numerous offers -of service were made, and among the most distinguished were -Lafayette, then a young man, the Count de Noailles, and Count -Segur. The two latter were obliged by their parents to desist -from the enterprise, which they had already arranged to carry out -by crossing the ocean; but Lafayette succeeded in purchasing a -vessel, which he armed and manned at his own expense, and, taking -with him some experienced officers, sailed from a port in Spain -and reached America, where he met with a reception due to his -merits and noble purpose. A brave and experienced soldier, M. de -Valfort, afterward chief instructor of Napoleon Buonaparte, -accompanied the Marquis and rendered efficient service during his -stay in the New World. - -Some time was now spent by young Segur in attending to the events -which Voltaire and his colaborers were bringing about in the -world of literature. He was a visitor at the family residence of -Segur, whose mother was a woman of note in the metropolis. The -count himself narrates several interesting incidents respecting -the arch-infidel, with whom he appears to have been on intimate -terms. With regard to his death there is one thing worth -recording. Immediately after his triumphal entry into Paris, -death came upon him. Segur says that he recanted his former -errors. -{637} -"The clergy, no longer venturing to oppose him, now hoped to -convert him. At first Voltaire yielded; he received the Abbé -Gauthier, confessed himself, and wrote a profession of faith, -which, without fully satisfying the priests, greatly displeased -the philosophers. After escaping the danger, he forgot his fears -and his prudence. A few weeks after, upon being taken extremely -ill, he refused to see a priest, and terminated, with apparent -indifference, a long life." There is a different version of the -latter half of the story. It is related that he cried most -piteously for a priest; but his philosophical friends refused to -accord him his request, and he died with imprecations most -horrible upon their heads for denying his dying wish. - -Political changes at length enabled the count to embark for -America, and become an actor in the great drama of freedom, of -which he had been long an earnest spectator at a distance. War -was declared between France and England. The French, under Arthur -Dillon and Count Noailles, directed by D'Estaing, captured the -town of Grenada; after which the latter sailed for Savannah, -designing to seize that important position. Notwithstanding the -valor of the French and Americans in the successive assaults upon -the works, they were obliged to retire with loss, rendered still -more lamentable by the fall of the brave Pulaski, who fought in -America for the liberty which had been crushed in his own land. A -concise and accurate narrative of the principal events that -preceded the surrender of Cornwallis to the united arms of -America and France, occupies a considerable space in the memoirs -before us. The bravery of the French, very naturally, obtains a -prominent notice until the moment of capitulation arrives. "The -English troops then defiled between the two allied armies, drums -beating, and carrying their arms, which they afterward deposited -with their flags. As Lord Cornwallis was ill, General O'Hara -defiled at the head of the English troops, and presented his -sword to the Count de Rochambeau; but the French general, -pointing to Washington at the head of the American army, told him -that, the French being only auxiliaries, it was for the American -general to receive his sword and give him his orders." (P. 237.) - -Strange incidents happen in all wars. About this time, the French -general, De Bouillé, made an attack on the Dutch islands of the -West Indies, lately captured by the British. "Having during the -night landed his troops in the island of St. Eustatia, he -advanced at break of day to attack the principal fortress of the -island, whose garrison was then engaged in manoeuvring on the -plain. The vanguard of M. de Bouillé was composed of an Irish -regiment in the service of France: deceived by the sight of their -red coats, the English thought they saw a part of their own -countrymen, and suffered themselves to be approached without -suspicion. Undeceived too late, they vainly fought with courage; -they were routed on all sides, and pursued with so much ardor -that French and English entered pell-mell into the fortress, -which remained in our possession." How many foreign battle-fields -have found the Irish in the vanguard of armies, yet what avails -their valor to their own country! - -In 1782, Count Segur got permission to set out for America, and a -frigate, La Gloire, of thirty-two guns, was placed at his -disposal to carry important despatches to Count Rochambeau from -his government. -{638} -He had as fellow-passengers the Duke de Lauzun, the Prince de -Broglie, the Baron Montesquieu, Count de Loménie, an Irish -officer named Sheldon, Polawski, a Polish gentleman, and others -eager to assist the inhabitants of a new world fighting for -liberty, of which men were allowed to dream in the Old World. -Enthusiastic as he had previously felt upon the subject, he could -hardly restrain himself, now that he was on his way to accomplish -his most cherished hopes. - -A letter dated from "Brest Roads, onboard La Gloire, May 19th, -1782," contains some remarkably philosophical passages; and when -writing his memoirs, forty-two years afterward, he could find no -fitter language to convey the sentiments which then agitated his -mind. "In the midst of an absolute government, everything is -sacrificed to vanity, to the love of fame, or what is called -glory, but which hardly deserves the name of patriotism in a -country where a select number of persons, raised to the first -employments of the state by the will of a master, and on the -precarious tenure of that will, engross the whole legislative and -executive power; in a country where public rights are only -considered as private property, where the court is all in all, -and the nation nothing. A love of true glory cannot exist without -philosophy and public manners. With us, the desire of celebrity, -which may be directed to good or evil, is the prevailing motive, -while promotion depends not upon talents, but upon favor." A most -pernicious course, and certain to produce disastrous consequences -in any organization! He proceeds to expose the facility with -which men adapt themselves to any absolute system in which the -ambitious and selfish portion of the community find adulation and -sycophancy the readiest ladders to power and eminence, while the -truly meritorious find their virtue an obstacle to favor, if not -an occasion of suspicion and fear. If the French nation continued -without change under the system of government such as Count Segur -represents that of his day, it would be more difficult to account -for the phenomenon than the revolution which destroyed it. - -The intelligent appreciation of right and freedom that incited -those Frenchmen to dare the perils of the ocean preparatory to -the more serious dangers of the battle-field for the sake of -liberty, we should not too easily forget in the present age. It -was no whimsical adventure that led them over the waves to engage -in the pursuit of chimerical gratification. "In separating at -this time from all I hold dear, I do not make so painful a -sacrifice to prejudice, _but to duty_. ... Being a soldier, -I leave my family, my native place, and all the charms of life, -in order strictly to fulfil the duties of a profession, perhaps -the noblest of any, when engaged in a just cause." - -An interesting narrative of the voyage, in company with the -frigate L'Aigle, of forty guns, and bearing a treasure of two -million and a half livres for the aid of the Americans, is given -in a few pages of the memoirs. They fell in with an English -frigate of seventy-four guns, and a memorable engagement ensued. -This vessel was the Hector, formerly a Frenchman, taken by the -English at the defeat of De Grasse. In the midst of the -engagement, Vallongue, the French commander, cried out to the -English captain to strike his colors. "Yes, yes," said the latter -ironically, "I am going to do it;" and completed his answer by a -terrible broadside. So near were the vessels that the men used -pistols; and even the rammers of the guns were wielded as clubs. -{639} -For three quarters of an hour La Gloire bore the brunt of the -unequal conflict; but, at length, aided by L'Aigle, they so -disabled the English vessel that they expected soon to capture -her. Next day, however, other sails appearing in sight, they -abandoned the Hector, which afterward sank, and the crew was -rescued by an American ship. An incident of the battle may be -related, as showing the coolness and gayety of the French -character, even amidst the most appalling scenes: - -"The Baron de Montesquieu was standing near us, (on the deck;) we -had of late been amusing ourselves with rallying him in regard to -the words _liaisons dangereuses_, which he had heard us -pronounce, and, in spite of all his inquiries, we had still -evaded explaining to him that such was the title of a new novel, -then much read in France. While we were thus conversing together, -our ship received the fire of the Hector, and a bar-shot--a -murderous junction of two balls united by an iron bar--struck a -part of the quarter-deck, from which we had just before -descended. The Count de Loménie, standing at the side of -Montesquieu, and pointing to the shot, said very coolly, 'You -were wishing to know what those _liaisons dangereuses_ were? -There, look, you have them.'" - -Soon after this event they approached Delaware Bay, where they -captured an English corvette. Being ignorant of the channel, -however, they were necessarily delayed, and they were placed in a -most critical position by the appearance of an English fleet, -whose superior force seemed to leave them no chance of escape. -This they effected, nevertheless, with the greatest difficulty, -carrying with them the gold which they had been obliged to throw -into the river when pursued by the English, but which they -afterward fished up and secured. They then proceeded on the way -to Philadelphia, and the Count gives amusing incidents that -occurred on the route. Sometimes well treated by the inhabitants -favorable to the cause of freedom, they were also subjected to -much annoyance by the tories and the timid or vacillating between -both sides. A certain Mr. Pedikies is particularly mentioned as -having received them coolly and suspiciously, while promises, -bribes, and threats were necessary to oblige him to afford them -any aid. The contrast evident between the Americans and his own -countrymen, is noticed by the writer in an aspect very favorable -to the former. What especially attracted his attention was, the -absence of different classes in society and of all poverty. "All -the Americans whom we met were dressed in well-made clothes, of -excellent stuff, with boots well cleaned; their deportment was -free, frank, and kind, equally removed from rudeness of manner -and from studied politeness; exhibiting an independent character, -subject only to the laws, proud of its own rights, and respecting -those of others. Their aspect seemed to declare that we were in a -land of reason, of order, and of liberty." (P. 320.) He describes -the face of the country, its boundless resources of agricultural -wealth, and stores of future happiness and power. Philadelphia, -then the capital of the country, attracted his admiration, and he -enters upon a disquisition concerning the Quakers, who inspired -him with a very high esteem for their principles of peace and -rectitude. He says that "most of them were tories," and cannot -blame them, because their religion forbade its members to engage -in war. "Friend," said one of them to General Rochambeau, "thou -dost practise a vile trade; but we are told that thou dost -conduct thyself with all the humanity and justice it will admit -of. -{640} -I am very glad of this; I feel indebted to thee for it; and I am -come hither to see thee, and to assure thee of my esteem." -Another discovered a very ingenious mode of avoiding -participation in the deeds of war, even by paying taxes to -support it, and at the same time of complying with the law of -Congress imposing taxation. The day upon which the collectors -called, he placed a certain sum of money apart where they might -find it, and thus he would not _give_, but allowed it _to -be taken_. At Newport, he became acquainted with a venerable -member of the same sect; and the Frenchman became an ardent -admirer of Polly Leiton, the beautiful and modest daughter of his -host. She made no pretence to conceal her abhorrence of war, and -candidly addressed the Count in terms not at all complimentary to -his military notions. "Thou hast, then," she said, "neither wife -nor children in Europe, since thou leavest thy country, and -comest so far to engage in that cruel occupation, war?" "But it -is for your welfare," he replied, "that I quit all I hold dear, -and it is to defend your liberty that I come to fight the -English." "The English," she rejoined, "have done thee no harm, -and wherefore shouldst thou care about our liberty? We ought -never to interfere in other people's business, unless it be to -reconcile them together and prevent the effusion of blood." "But -my king has ordered me to come here and engage his enemies and -your own," said Segur. To this she replied that no king has a -right to order what is unjust and contrary to what God ordereth. - -Having transacted important business with M. de Luzerne, at -Philadelphia, and fully acquainted himself with the state of -affairs and eminent men of the times, he set out for the camp of -Washington and Rochambeau, on the banks of the Hudson. In the -narrative of his journey thither, he shows himself a keen -observer, and highly appreciates the character of the -inhabitants, as well as the magnificent aspect of the country -through which he passed. Schools, churches, and universities met -him at every town; while kindness, comfort, happiness, were -everywhere displayed. The modest tranquillity of independent men, -knowing no power above them but the influence of law, and that -law the expression of their own will; the vanity, servility, and -prejudices of European society unknown; the general spirit of -industry and the honorable occupation of labor common to all; -such phases of life, so strange to the traveller, attracted his -deepest attention. - -The inns at which he stopped on his way were generally kept by -captains, majors, colonels, generals, who conversed with equal -facility upon military tactics and agricultural projects, and -were no less entertaining in their stories of campaigns against -the English than in their success in clearing forests and raising -crops on the sites of Indian wigwams. This very naturally -surprised the inquisitive Frenchman; but, while it presented to -him a new phase of human society, it approved itself very highly -to his judgment. Two things, however, he found to condemn; or, as -he himself says, shocked him more than he could express. One was -"a vile custom, the moment a toast was given, of circulating an -immense bowl of punch round the table, out of which each guest -was successively compelled to drink; and the other was, that, -after being in bed, it was not unusual to see a fresh traveller -walk into your room, and without ceremony stretch himself by your -side, and appropriate a part of your couch." - -{641} - -Trenton and Princeton recalled to him the memory of brilliant -exploits performed in the cause of liberty by Washington and -Lafayette; but at Pompton he would have fallen into the hands of -the Britishers, had he not been warned of his danger by an old -woman sitting at her door, engaged by a spinning-wheel. Having at -length crossed the majestic Hudson, which he eloquently -describes, he was cheered by the sight of the American tents, and -soon reached the headquarters of Rochambeau, at Peekskill. He -took command of a veteran regiment of Soissonnais, which had been -awaiting him, and he was received with the greatest enthusiasm. -It had been formerly named Segur, from his father, who had -commanded it at the famous battles of Lawfeld and Rocoux. In both -these battles the old warrior was wounded at the head of his -regiment, once by a musket-ball through his breast, and again by -another shot that shattered his arm. Although he felt annoyed at -the absence of active operations in the field, still he found -amusement enough among his numerous countrymen, with whom he was -now associated. One young officer of artillery particularly -attracted his attention. This was Duplessis-Mauduit, who had most -signally distinguished himself in several engagements, and who -carried his attachment to liberty and equality so far as to be -highly displeased if any one called him _Sir_ or -_Mister_. He would be called simply Thomas -Duplessis-Mauduit. - -His appreciation of the character of Washington is in accordance -with the estimation in which that great man was and is held by -all. "Too often," he says, "reality disappoints the expectations -our imagination had raised, and admiration diminishes by a too -close view of the object upon which it had been bestowed; but, on -seeing General Washington, I found a perfect similarity between -the impression produced upon me by his aspect and the idea I had -formed of him. His exterior disclosed, as it were, the history of -his life; simplicity, grandeur, dignity, calmness, goodness, -firmness, the attributes of his character, were also stamped upon -his features and in all his person. His stature was noble and -elevated; the expression of his features mild and benevolent; his -smile graceful and pleasing; his manners simple, without -familiarity. He did not display the luxury of a monarchical -general; everything announced in him the hero of a republic." - -Expecting to find an army without organization, and officers -without suitable military knowledge, he was surprised to find -well-drilled battalions, and officers fully competent in all -departments of their service. He dined frequently with -Washington, and gives instructive descriptions of the habits of -those Revolutionary heroes. The toasts most frequently given -after dinner at headquarters were, "The Independence of the -United States;" "The King and Queen of France;" "Success to the -allied armies." The generous spirit of brotherhood that united -the two nations in those days seems to have become unknown in our -times; while she that was then the cruel enemy has now become the -flattered friend. Who will deny that nations sometimes act the -life of individuals? Washington's opinions on this point are -worth recording: "He spoke to me of the gratitude which his -country would ever retain for the King of France, and for his -generous assistance; highly extolled the wisdom and skill of -General de Rochambeau, expressing himself honored by having -observed and obtained his friendship; warmly commended the -discipline and bravery of our army; and concluded by speaking to -me, in very handsome terms, of my father, whose long services and -numerous wounds were becoming ornaments, he said, to a minister -of war." (P. 253.) - -{642} - -The Americans and French were closely besieging the British at -this time in New York, and although the prudence of the generals -restrained the impetuosity of the allies, who eagerly sought to -attack the enemy in their defences, it was not possible to -prevent the execution of some daring exploits. But the armies -soon separated, the French marching toward Newport and -Providence, thence to Boston. They were ordered to the West -Indies, where the decisive blow was to be struck at the English, -and, as it eventually turned out, the independence of the States -soon after followed. - -We cannot but admire the wisdom displayed in this book of -memoirs, written eighty-five years ago, amidst scenes and times -that could afford material from which the future greatness of the -country could be predicted only by a very sagacious mind. He -clearly foresaw, in the rising colonies then about to emerge into -a powerful nationality, all the resources which, by judicious and -liberal legislation, led to the wonderful prosperity with which -our country is blessed. The religious toleration and equality -which reigned everywhere he highly eulogized, and accounts very -philosophically for the necessity of such a state of things. It -must be borne in mind that Count Segur was a follower of -Voltaire, although of a Protestant family. For this reason the -ingenuousness with which he testifies to the origin of this -religious toleration is more deserving of notice. At page 371, he -says: "The multiplicity of religions rendered toleration -indispensable among them, and, what will, perhaps, appear -singular, _the example of this toleration was set by the -Catholics_. No church, therefore, was privileged or considered -the established church; the ministers of each religion were paid -by those who professed it, and there existed between them not a -fatal spirit of jealousy, a source of discord, but a laudable -emulation of charity, benevolence, and virtue." It is pleasing to -record this generous tribute of respect to the liberal spirit -which influenced the religious denominations of those -Revolutionary times. It is true that in all religious sects there -are some members who are ever ready to clamor for persecution, -and eager to adopt forcible measures to compel their unwilling -neighbors to believe according to their own special measure of -belief. And it is difficult, perhaps impossible, to name one -religious party that has not, when sufficiently strong to do so, -been led into the commission of acts which succeeding generations -would willingly have effaced from the record of their -predecessors. For instance, what intelligent Presbyterian of the -present day would not willingly blot from the page of her history -the deeds that stain the Scotch Church in the days of her -influence? Buckle, one of the deepest non-Catholic writers of the -present age, says that her real character was "one of the most -detestable tyrannies ever seen on the earth." "When the Scotch -Kirk was at the height of its power, we may search history in -vain for any institution which can compete with it, except the -Spanish inquisition. Between these two there is a close and -intimate analogy. Both were intolerant, both were cruel, both -made war upon the finest parts of human nature, and both -destroyed every vestige of religious freedom." (Vol. ii. p. 322.) -{643} -It is more truthful to admit the opinion of Mr. Buckle than to -attempt to controvert his facts of proof by which he establishes -his position. We only advert to this as elucidating the principle -that, although there may be individual Presbyterians and -individual Catholics who feel a disposition to recur to the -unchristian acts of some of their predecessors, yet it cannot be -denied that they are exceptional. The general spirit of -toleration which Count Segur so justly appreciates, is too deeply -implanted in the institutions of the Republic to be blown away by -any foul blast of weak bigotry. - -Another subject upon which he wisely commented is equally -important to show his great foresight. After aptly describing the -reasons from which he presaged the future greatness of the -nation, he observes that "the only danger to be apprehended -hereafter for this happy Republic, (which then consisted of three -millions of inhabitants,) is the state of excessive opulence of -which its exclusive commerce seems to hold out the promise, and -which may bring luxury and corruption in its train." (P. 374.) -Has not this already come to pass? Again he asks: "Is not that -difference which is observable between the manners and situation -of the North and South calculated, in fact, to create an -apprehension for the future of a political separation, which -would weaken and perhaps even dissolve this happy union, which -can only retain its strength while it remains firm and intimate?" -The past few years have proven the justness of his views. - -We cannot better conclude than by transcribing his relation of an -incident which evinced the bravery of his friend Lynch, an -officer of the staff of Count d'Estaing, at the storming of -Savannah: "M. d'Estaing, at the most critical moment of that -sanguinary affair, being at the head of the right column, -directed Lynch to carry an urgent order to the third column, -which was on the left. These columns were then within grape-shot -of the enemy's entrenchments; and on both sides a tremendous -firing was kept up. Lynch, instead of passing through the centre -or in the rear of the columns, proceeded coolly through the -shower of balls and grape-shot, which the French and English were -discharging at each other. It was in vain that M. d'Estaing, and -those who surrounded him, cried to Lynch to take another -direction; he went on, executed his order, and returned by the -same way; that is to say, under a vault of flying shot, and where -every one expected to witness his instant destruction. 'What!' -cried the general, on seeing him return unhurt, 'The devil must -be in you, surely. Why did you choose such a road as that, in -which you might have perished a thousand times over?' 'Because it -was the shortest,' answered Lynch. Having uttered these words, he -went with equal coolness and joined the party that most ardently -engaged in storming the place." - -It has been a pleasure, as well as an instruction, to accompany -in his thoughts and actions one of those many noble and brave -foreigners who aided, by their services, in the establishment of -our independence, and forced a powerful foe to relinquish her -grasp upon a nation struggling for liberty. - --------- - -{644} - - - Notre Dame De Garaison. - - -In the province of Aquitaine, a short distance from the village -of Monléon, among the hills of _Les Hautes Pyrénées_, is a -valley bearing the name of Garaison, where stands a votive chapel -in honor of the Blessed Virgin. It is a favorite place of -pilgrimage for all the country around, which has been approved of -by Popes Urban VIII, and Gregory XVI., who have enriched it with -indulgences. It was erected in consequence of the apparition of -our Blessed Lady on the spot, about the year 1500, to a young -shepherdess who was guarding her flock in the valley. The legend -is as follows, somewhat abridged. It is supported by most -unobjectionable witnesses at the time of the event, by tradition, -and the unanimous voice of the country around; by public -documents, and by the effects which followed and which still -exist. As for me, however, this is of little moment, these -legends not being matters of faith. It is sufficient for me to -know that the spot in question is one dear to Mary and peculiarly -favored by Heaven. It has been sanctified by the sighs of -contrition, by the pure confessions, the fervent communions, and -the sudden and miraculous conversions of those who have gone -thither in honor of the Mother of our Lord.--But the legend: - -A young girl of twelve years of age, Anglèse de Sagazan, was -guarding her flock near a large hawthorn which shaded a fountain -of living water. The deep shade and the soft murmur of the -fountain invited repose, and, opening her basket of provisions, -the young shepherdess seated herself by the spring to dip her dry -brown bread in the clear, cold water. Suddenly a lady of majestic -mien, with a serene countenance and gracious regard, clothed in a -long, white robe, which fell in graceful folds to her feet, stood -before the astonished maiden, who, dazzled by her appearance, -remained immovable and speechless. Then our gracious Lady, who -loveth the poor and the humble, declared to her that she had -chosen this spot as a place of benediction, whereon she wished a -shrine erected in her honor, around which her children might -gather with more than ordinary assurance. This apparition -occurring three days in succession, the maiden related to her -father what had happened. He, in turn, reported the occurrence -among his neighbors, who were quite incredulous, but yet, through -curiosity or inspired by God, flocked to the fountain, where was -still to be heard the voice of the Virgin, though no one saw her -but the pure eyes of the shepherdess. The people went to seek the -curé, and returned to the fountain with banners, chanting hymns -in honor of Mary. They erected a large cross on the spot. After -that the water of the fountain seemed miraculously changed, and -the sick went thither to be healed. The sudden restoration of -many to health made the spot celebrated in a short time. The -number of miracles increasing, the present elegant vaulted chapel -was erected by the voluntary offerings of grateful pilgrims, and -there the benediction of Heaven descended upon the votaries of -Mary. -{645} -At this day wonderful are the prodigies wrought on soul and body -at the shrine of our Lady of Garaison. Ages ago God healed many -who, at the troubling of the waters, descended to the -angel-guarded Pool of Siloam. His ways are not as our ways. ... - -I made a pilgrimage to Notre Dame de Garaison in June, 18--. The -evening before, I went to shrift, by way of preparation, and the -next morning left at an early hour with a party of friends, who -completely filled our private diligence. There were five of us, -and two servants, besides the driver and his more efficient wife. -I might call her the driver and him the postilion. Quite a -procession we should have made in honor of our Lady of Garaison! -We ought to have gone plodding along the highway in sandal shoon -and penitential garb, with pilgrim staff and scallop-shell, -knocking our breasts as we went, as did the votaries of the -middle ages. But in these days, when stout old Christian flies -along the celestial railroad with his burden of sin carefully -stowed away in the baggage-car, I, a feeble pilgrim, may be -excused for seeking as comfortable a seat as could be found in -our rickety old diligence. As I got in, I caught a satisfactory -glimpse of a large basket, in which were light, crispy -_pistolets_, heaps of deep-red cherries, flasks of water, -and bottles of mild _vin rouge_, which our servant had -thoughtfully provided for our outer man. And they were not -disdained in our drive of thirty miles. Such due attention having -been paid to our bodily wants, we were quite at leisure to -abandon ourselves to our spiritual musings or our devotions! Who -could wish to have his soul constantly disturbed and pestered by -a jaded and craving body? It is quite contrary to the religious -as well as philosophic spirit of this enlightened nineteenth -century, and though I was somewhat ascetic, and rather inclined -to the sterner rules of medieval times, the thought almost -reconciled me to my corner, where I braced my weary back, and to -the aforesaid basket, whence I fortified my body. - -"_Ciel!_" I exclaimed, as I found myself _en diligence_ -and the stone cross of St. Oren's Priory fast disappearing, "have -I returned to the middle ages, or am I dreaming?" I could not -help rubbing my eyes, and wondering what some of my more -enlightened American friends would think, if they could see me -seriously, deliberately setting off on a pilgrimage (even in a -carriage!) of thirty miles, to pay my devotions at a shrine of -the Virgin Mary! But yes--my head was quite sound, though filled -with the vows I wished to offer in a spot peculiarly dear to our -Lady. This was the first visit I ever made to one of these places -of popular devotion, and so, apart from my religious motives, I -felt some curiosity to see this mountain chapel, away almost upon -the confines of Spain. - -The roads are fine in that part of France, and bordered by -magnificent shade-trees. Owing to recent rains, we had no dust. -We passed waving wheat-fields, luxuriant vineyards hedged with -hawthorn, and away on the neighboring hills was many an old -château with its venerable towers, and hard by an antique church. -I found everything novel, and consequently interesting. Going and -returning we stopped at most of the villages. -{646} -In every one we found an old vaulted stone church, with thick -walls and doors, ever open to the passer-by. In each were several -chapels, adorned with oil paintings, bas-reliefs, and statues of -the saints, and in every church were the stations of _Via -Crucis_ well painted, and the little undying lamp of olive oil -burning near the gilded tabernacle--announcing the presence of -the Divinity--the Shekinah of the new Israel--and recalling the -beautiful lines of Lamartine: - - "Pâle lampe du sanctuaire, - Pourquoi dans l'ombre du saint lieu, - Inaperçue et solitaire, - Te consumes-tu devant Dieu? - - "Ce n'est pas pour diriger l'aile - De la prière ou de l'amour, - Pour éclairer, faible étincelle, - L'oeil de celui qui fit le jour. - - ...... - - "Mon oeil aime à se suspendre - A ce foyer aérien; - Et je leur dis, sans les comprendre. - Flambeaux pieux, vous faites bien. - - "Peutêtre, brillantes parcelles - De l'immense création, - Devant son trône imitent-elles - L'éternelle adoration. - - "C'est ainsi, dis-je à mon âme, - Que de l'ombre de ce bas lieu - Tu brûles, invisible flamme, - En la présence de ton Dieu. - - "Et jamais tu n'oublies - De diriger vers lui mon coeur, - Pas plus que ces lampes remplies - De flotter devant le Seigneur." [Footnote 187] - - [Footnote 187: In the absence of a suitable poetic version - of the above, we subjoin--for such of our readers as are - not familiar with the language of the original--the - following prose translation of it, from Digby's _Ages of - Faith_: - - "Pale lamp of the Sanctuary, why, in the obscurity of the - Holy Place, unperceived and solitary, consumest thou - thyself before God? It is not, feeble spark! to give light - to the eye of him who made the day: it is not to dispel - darkness from the steps of his adorers. The vast nave is - only more obscure before thy distant glimmering. And yet, - symbolic lamp, thou guardest thy immortal fire, thou dost - flicker before every altar, and mine eyes love to rest - suspended on this aerial hearth. I say to them, I - comprehend not; ye pious flames, ye do well. Perhaps these - bright particles of the immense creation imitate before - his throne the eternal adoration! It is thus, say I to my - soul, that, in the shade of this lower place, thou - burnest, a flame invisible, a fire which remains - unextinguished, unconsumed, by which incense can be at all - times rekindled to ascend in fragrance to heaven!"] - -In these churches there was always an altar to the Virgin, too, -adorned with lace and flowers, and streaming with gay ribbons and -pennons, after the taste of the country. In one we found a -wedding party, and were in season to hear the _Ego conjungo -vos_ of the curé over a very modest and subdued-looking pair. - -We often passed huge crosses of wood or stone erected by the -wayside, to which were attached the instruments of the Passion. I -noticed among the passers-by that the women made the sign of the -cross and the men raised their hats. I did not find the villages -very agreeable. The houses were of stone, with tiled roofs, and -had a cold, forbidding look. The paved streets were narrow, with -no sidewalks, and anything but cleanly. I thought of our fresh -New England villages, their white cottages and green blinds, and -front yards filled with flowers and shrubbery. But those of -France were more antique and more picturesque--at a distance. -Flocks of sheep dotted the country, each guarded by a -shepherdess, who wore a bright scarlet _capuchon_, which -covers the head and falls below the waist. It is picturesque, if -not graceful, and at a distance the wearer looks like one of her -native but overgrown _coquelicots_. They were generally -spinning, after the manner of the country, with the distaff under -one arm and twirling the spindle in the hand, thus laying their -hands to the spindle and their hands hold of the distaff after -the manner of Old Testament times. How they contrive to spin with -these two instruments is past my comprehension, but they do -succeed admirably. - -Every now and then we met a donkey groaning under the weight of -his ears and of a huge cage, or _panier_, as large as -himself on each side, filled with live poultry or fruit and -vegetables. Perched on the top between these queer saddle-bags -was a bright-eyed, sunburnt _paysanne_, most patiently -thwacking Old Dapple marketward. The oxen looked as if they fared -better; they were sleek and clean, that is, what I could see of -them, for they were almost entirely encased in great coverings, -as if they were elephants. -{647} -Their drivers wore a blouse of blue cotton, and wooden shoes with -most impertinently turned-up toes. They are worn (the shoes) both -by men and women. They make a terrible clatter; you would think -the Philistines upon you; but they are very durable. - -The country reminded me of the interior of New England. The hills -were finely wooded, more so than I had expected in that old -country. On leaving Monléon, we entered a valley, narrow at -first, but which gradually opened, forming a basin of -considerable extent, with green meadows and shady thickets. It is -bounded and crowned by hills, and a few hours distant are the -Pyrenees. This valley is solitary--secluded, but not wild or -uncultivated. Perhaps there is a score of houses in it. From -about the centre rise the turrets of Notre Dame de Garaison. The -whole country was once covered with magnificent oaks which had -been planted by the old chaplains, but the vandals of a later day -had cut away whole forests. - -The rain poured down in torrents when we entered the valley of -Garaison, but that did not prevent us from admiring the locality -so favorable to devotion. Far from any city, free from noise, the -chapel is buried among the hills and forests of Aquitaine, a spot -chosen by God in which to reveal his presence and power! What a -delicious solitude! We drove to a little _auberge_--Hotel de -la Paix!--erected for the accommodation of pilgrims. In the -olden time they were sheltered in a monastery, which was -devastated during the Revolution, and now, when great festivals -draw crowds of people, the women often remain in the house all -night. Leaving our carriage at the hotel, we immediately went to -the church in spite of the rain, passing through a long avenue of -majestic oaks. - -The principal entrance to this sacred retreat is quite imposing. -The front is decorated with a statue of the Virgin, holding the -dead Christ in her arms--the bodies of natural size, and the work -of a skilful hand. - -The buildings form a vast enclosure, in the centre of which is -the chapel, having on the north and south two courts which -separate it from the rest of the edifice. I was surprised to find -so fine an establishment so far away from any city. We passed -through a cloister shaded by cypresses to the chapel. Over the -door and at the sides are niches, in which are statues. The -vestibule, as in all these old churches, is very low. Here my -attention was attracted by a great number of small paintings -which cover the walls and vault, forming a complete mosaic. These -_ex-voto_ are not remarkable as works of art, but precious -on account of the miraculous events which they retrace. They -represent the persons who have been cured of their infirmities by -the intercession of Mary; to each is attached a label bearing the -name of the person and the date of the cure. These paintings were -left untouched at the Revolution, though the venerable guardians -of this sanctuary were driven from their cherished solitude; and -the sacred vestments, the holy vessels, the silver lamps, the -jewels, and other _ex-voto_ of all kinds, which had been -offered the Virgin in gratitude for grace received, were carried -away; the fine statues of the twelve Apostles were destined to -the flames, but were rescued by the people of Monléon, whose -church they now adorn. - -From the vestibule we passed into the nave. One feels an -inexpressible emotion of piety and devotion on entering this -beautiful church. -{648} -I went immediately to the grand altar to pay my devotions to our -Lady of Garaison, while the servant took my letter of -introduction to M. le Supérieur, who was fortunately at liberty. -I found him a tall, fine-looking gentleman, instead of a hoary -old hermit, and as polite as a Parisian. He wore a flowing -_soutane_, confined at the waist by a fringed girdle, and on -his head was a sort of skull-cap, such as the priests wear in -that country--I imagine, to protect their tonsured heads from the -cold. He conducted me over the whole establishment. In his room I -saw the skull of the shepherdess to whom the Virgin appeared. She -died a nun, and more than a century old. After her death, her -body was given to the chapel, which had been erected during her -life, and to which she had been permitted to resort from time to -time. The fountain is under the grand altar; but the water is -conducted into a basin in a vault to the east of the chapel. -Every one says the waters still perform wonderful cures. The -superior said it was not owing to any mineral qualities; and as I -was not able to analyze them, I contented myself with drinking -quite freely of them, bathing therein my forehead, and inwardly -praying God to heal every infirmity of body and soul. On the -basin is a bas-relief representing the Virgin's appearing to the -shepherdess. - -The arches and walls of the sacristy are covered with the -frescoes of a by-gone age, but which have not lost their -brilliancy of color. They represent the descent of the Holy Ghost -upon the Apostles; angels bearing to our Saviour the instruments -of the Passion, etc. - -Over the grand altar of the church, in a niche, is a statue of -Notre Dame de Garaison, the mother of sorrows, holding in her -arms the inanimate body of her divine Son. There are four small -chapels, two on each side, separated by walls which advance to -the principal nave, and are there converted into pilasters to -support the vault. In them are some oil paintings, two of which -are very fine, the angel guardian and a Madonna. The niches, -which were robbed in 1789, have been newly furnished with gilded -statues of the twelve Apostles, large as life, and bearing the -instruments of their martyrdom; and one of our Saviour in the -midst. On the vault are painted the patriarchs and prophets of -the old law. These gilded statues and altars give a most -brilliant appearance to the lightly vaulted Gothic chapel. - -In the south court is a fountain. Mary stands with her divine -babe in her arms, sculptured in white marble. The water spouts -out at her feet through four small masks, and falls into a basin -of pure white marble, whence it flows into another still larger. -The statue has been a little injured by exposure to the weather; -but still it reminds one that Mary is the channel through which -the grace of God comes to us--that through her flow the waters of -benediction and of grace upon man! - -The refectory is vaulted and paved. In it is a whispering -gallery, common in the monasteries of the middle ages, so one -could communicate from one corner to the other opposite in the -lowest tone. I am sure the knight of the couchant leopard was no -more surprised or awed by the midnight procession he witnessed in -the little chapel of Engaddi, than was I at a late hour in the -evening, when, while I was still rapt in prayer, and quite -unconscious of what was going on around me in this still mountain -chapel, I found the altar suddenly illuminated, and a door opened -to a long procession of white-robed priests and about a hundred -young men: - - "Taper and Host and Book they bare, - And holy banner flourished fair - With the Redeemer's name. - -{649} - -They passed around the chapel, chanting _Tantum Ergo_, and -then returned to the altar to give the benediction of the Blessed -Sacrament. The richly gilded chapel was radiant with reflected -light, and the strains of _O salutaris Hostia!_ seemed to -float upward in celestial tones, as they issued from lips -purified by solitude and prayer. I never felt more devotion at -this solemn rite than there, in the shadow of the Pyrenees. I -forgot my fatigue, and yielded to heartfelt emotion. Exiled from -my native land, to which I might never return, and among those -who were almost entire strangers to me, I felt myself folded to -the bosom of divine Providence, and that the All-Father would -have me consider every part of his world as my home, and all -those souls, which he has breathed into human forms, as my -brethren and sisters. - -It was a late hour when I fell asleep on my hard bed at the Hotel -de la Paix. Coldly looking down upon me from a rude frame was, -for my guardian saint, a picture of _Napoleon le Grand;_ -but, though he had routed many a formidable host, he did not put -to flight a single sweet fancy or holy thought that thronged my -brains, waking or sleeping. - -At an early hour I was again before the altar of Our Lady. -Priests were celebrating the holy mysteries at every altar when I -entered the chapel. At seven o'clock, M. le Supérieur offered the -Holy Sacrifice for my intentions, at which I communicated. ... - -My devotions ended, I rambled around the garden and through the -cloisters, drank again from the fountain, and then prepared for -my departure. I had gone to Garaison with a deeper intent, more -serious purpose, than is my intention to unveil here. I bore in -my heart a burden--a burden common to humanity--which I laid down -at the feet of Mary, thinking, as I did so: - - "Oh! might a voice, a whisper low, - Forth from those lips of beauty flow! - Couldst thou but speak of all the tears, - The conflicts, and the pangs of years, - Which at thy secret shrine revealed - Have gushed from human hearts unsealed!" - -I left that chapel in the strong embrace of the everlasting -hills, and with sunlight flooding its walls like a glory. Turning -to give it a last look, at the last turn in the valley, it seemed -like a lily rising up in the green meadows--fit type of her to -whom it is dedicated. - -Since that time I have visited many a shrine of _la belle -France_, but I turn to none with a more grateful heart than -NOTRE DAME DE GARAISON. - ------------ - -{650} - - - Count Ladislas Zamoyski. - - Translated From The French - Of Ch. De Montalembert. - - -The nineteenth century, which is already drawing to a close, will -in the course of its history present nothing more grand, more -touching, more deeply impressed with the stamp of moral beauty, -than Poland--vanquished, proscribed, abandoned by the world. - -This nation in mourning and in blood, which yet will not -die--this race of indomitable men and women, which survives all -tortures, all treasons, and all catastrophes, what a spectacle -and a lesson does it present! Its existence is at once a defiance -and an appeal: a defiance to adverse fortune, and an appeal to -what seems the too tardy justice of an avenging God. Abandoned -and calumniated by successful iniquity, by selfish opulence, by -the ever-ready worshippers of success, a sight intolerable to -their conquerors, and a reproach to the powerful of the world--there -they abide, like Mardochai before Aman, firmly resolved -to forget not, to despair not, nor to capitulate; incomparable -types of suffering, of sacrifice, of unwearying patience, of -lofty patriotism; invincible martyrs and confessors, not only of -faith, but of right, of country, and of liberty! - -In the centre of this group of proscribed and oppressed, like -some great oak struck by lightning in the midst of a burning -forest, stands out in bold relief the noble figure of Count -Ladislas Zamoyski. - -Ere yet the waves of forgetfulness and indifference have effaced -his noble memory, let us endeavor to recall and rescue from -oblivion some traits of an existence which, by every title, -belonged to ourselves; for in France he was born, (during a -journey of his parents there,) and in France he died, [Footnote -188] having passed here the greater part of the thirty-seven -years which he spent in exile, without having at any time -returned to his true country. - - [Footnote 188: January 11th, 1868.] - -Here it would seem appropriate to speak of the ancestors of the -illustrious dead. But how can we fitly portray to this generation -the splendor and power of those ancient houses of Poland and -Lithuania, whose immense possessions, countless adherents, and -extent of influence find no parallel in our own country, even at -the most aristocratic periods of its history? It was a Zamoyski -who headed the embassy which came to offer the crown of Poland to -a brother of Charles IX.; [Footnote 189] and some one of this -race is ever to be found dominant in their country's annals. They -may have had equals, but I know that in their native land none -ever assumed to be their superiors. - - [Footnote 189: For an account of this embassy, see the - excellent work of the Marquis de Noailles, _Henri de Valois - et la Pologne in 1572_.] - -Nothing is more _a propos_ to our immediate subject than the -legend of their device and bearings. A King of Poland, whose -people had some cause for discontent, being engaged in a conflict -with the Teutonic chevaliers, saw on the field of battle a -Zamoyski dying, his breast pierced with three lances. The king -approached to aid and comfort him. "_To mnicy [Transcriber's -note: blurred.] boli!_" exclaimed the dying hero. "_It is -not that which pains me!_" or in other words, "_A wound does -less harm than a bad prince or a bad neighbor_." - -{651} - -These three words and three lances have ever since been the -armorial bearings of the Zamoyski family. Reflecting upon them, -we find in them a singular appropriateness to that one of the -line whom we have best known; that illustrious and wounded hero -whom we have had so long before our eyes with the deadly steel in -his heart, and on his lips a word of proud resignation or -intrepid disdain. - -Fortunate are those great races who, before they are submerged by -the rising tide of equality and modern uniformity, can give forth -one last flash of glory, and furnish to the historian some great -heart enthusiastic for a good cause and a noble faith; some -vigorous lover of right and duty, capable of signalizing himself -by a generous death, like our own Duke de Luynes, or by an entire -life of devotion and sacrifice, like Count Ladislas Zamoyski. For -reason as we will, so long as men are men, they will be always -and everywhere moved by a something--I know not what--a kind of -realization of completeness, which nobility of birth imparts to -great virtues or great misfortunes. - -Ladislas Zamoyski, in his 28th year, was an officer of the -lancers in the Polish army, and aide-de-camp to the Grand Duke -Constantine; he was desirous above all things to serve his -country as a soldier and a citizen, when the military -insurrection of Warsaw broke out, at the end of November, 1830. - -It was, as has often been repeated, the advance-guard of the -Russian army, directed against the France of July, which turned -back against the main body. Although the count had taken no part -in the insurrection, the high rank of his family and the -precocious maturity of his mind enabled him to profit by the -particular position which he held near the prince, whose -arbitrary and unwise acts had contributed more than anything else -to provoke the revolt. He obtained from the brother of the -emperor the order which separated the Polish troops from the -Russian, and gave a sort of method to the military movement, -which soon expanded into a national revolution. Believing himself -freed now from all allegiance to the grand duke, the young count -took part in all the exploits of the campaign of 1831--a campaign -which has left imperishable recollections in the minds of all who -were living at that time. - -For ten months all Europe stood breathless, gazing with deep and -varied emotions on those fearful turns of fortune. Every incident -produced vehement agitations at the French tribune, in the -streets of Paris, and even in the reviews held by the French -king. There was something both of heroic and legendary interest -in this conflict, so disproportioned yet so prolonged, between a -handful of brave men on the one side, and the colossal resources -of Russia on the other--a conflict where the veteran comrades of -Dombrowski and Poniatowski were led on by youths inflamed with -holy zeal for their country's liberty, where the first place was -so long held by the Generalissimo Skrzynecki, true paladin of the -middle ages, who always put in the orders of the day for his army -prayers to the Holy Virgin as Queen of Poland, and who, brave in -the field and devout at the altar, was so pre-eminently hero, -Christian, and Catholic. I know not how upon this point the young -Poles of our own day stand; but I know they would be faithless to -the most noble examples of the heroes of 1831 if they should -suffer themselves to be enervated by religious indifference, or, -sadder still, should they ever trail through the depths of -atheism and modern materialism that banner which their ancestors -never separated from the cross of Jesus Christ. - -{652} - -When, finally, the countless masses which Russia threw upon -Poland had dislodged the insurgents from all their positions; -when the attempts at intervention made by the French government -were rendered nugatory by the icy and cynical indifference of -Lord Palmerston; [Footnote 190] when Europe resigned herself to -be a tranquil spectator at the sacrifice of a nation, Ladislas -Zamoyski, firm to the end, in the front rank of combatants, -holding then the grade of colonel, laid down his arms with the -last division of the Polish army, that of Ramorino, defeated in -Gallicia. He crossed then the frontiers of that country which he -was destined never more to see, and came, wounded and suffering, -but not less resolute than in the first days of his manhood, to -put himself at the disposal of his uncle, Prince Adam -Czartoryski, the venerable chief of the Polish emigration, as he -had been president of their national government. - - [Footnote 190: See the correspondence between Prince - Talleyrand and Lord Palmerston on the Polish question, July, - 1831, in the documents submitted to the English parliament by - order of the Queen, in 1861.] - -It was then that we saw him for the first time among us. Young, -tall, commanding, active, and untiring, he carried in his -deportment and in those glorious wounds the credentials of his -mission. Always occupied with the cause of his country, but with -a serenity and stability far beyond his years, he attracted to -himself all attention. A solitary and embarrassed wanderer in a -world which was so soon to grow heartlessly indifferent to -Poland, he entered calmly and resolutely upon that obscure, -laborious, and uncongenial path which honor and duty had traced -for him. - -I must be permitted here a just homage to that first Polish -emigration of 1831, which, preceded by the members of the -national government, by the Count Platen and General Kniacewicz, -and grouped about Prince Czartoryski, the Generals Dembinski, -Dwernicki, Rybinski, and the former ministers, Malachowski and -Morawski, have given us, for nearly forty years, such noble -examples of fortitude and devotedness, of modest dignity and -magnanimous resignation. How many of these yet remain to whom I -can address this last testimony of an admiration which I shall -always account among the most salutary and most lasting emotions -of my life? I owe to them a great good--the power to know and to -comprehend the grandeur and beauty of a vanquished cause! - -Forced by circumstances to immolate everything in the worship of -their assassinated country, not one hesitated before this stern -requisition. Rich and poor, old and young, citizens and soldiers, -all were called on for sacrifices painful and unexpected, and -none shrank back; indeed, to many the privations they were -obliged to endure formed a strange contrast to their previous -habits of prodigality and almost oriental luxury. Ladislas -Zamoyski was conspicuous in this career, so new to himself and -his comrades. The subsidies which his friends forced him to -accept were invariably reserved for some general object, or -divided among his less fortunate companions, saying: "_I learn -every day to do without something._" One thing only did he -guard carefully--his _beloved sword_, as, with juvenile -_naïveté_, he was accustomed to call it, in the warm hope -and belief that it might yet serve his country. - -{653} - -The French refugees, whom the Edict of Nantes expelled from their -homes, represented liberty of conscience odiously persecuted, and -by this title they won the active sympathies of all the -Protestant nations. The Irish emigrants, who, about the same -time, were the victims of an intolerance as bitter and -inconsistent in Protestant England, found in France and Spain -places freely opened to them, and which they honorably filled. -The French emigration of 1792 represented not only loyalty to a -monarchy, but an entire social order, whose end no one believed -so near--an order which still reigned in nearly the whole of -Europe; to this they owed, at least during the first years of -their exile, the aid and support of all the powers affected or -threatened by the Revolution. It was quite otherwise with the -Polish emigration of 1831, which, nevertheless, personified, at -one and the same time, liberty both political and religious, and, -more than all, a grand people, erased, by injustice, by a crime -without a parallel, from the list of nations, and unanimous in -protesting against that decree. They received from perplexed and -divided Europe not one of those consolations and encouragements -which it was their right to expect. - -France and England had generous alms to solace needs purely -material, but nothing more. Ruled by a double fear--that of the -Muscovite preponderance from without, and that of dangers from -demagogues within--no statesman, even the most liberal, was able -or willing to espouse the Polish cause. It was a sadder thing -still that a misapprehension prevented their receiving a sympathy -which otherwise would have been first offered. Beyond the little -circle of liberal, free-hearted Catholics--a circle then very -limited--the Polish refugees, victims of the most bitter -persecutor of the church in the nineteenth century, met no -response from the religious world. It was a time when Catholic -Europe, monarchical and aristocratic, was miserably prostrate -before the Austria of Prince Metternich and the Russia of the -Emperor Nicholas. Consequently, at Paris, and, above all, at -Rome, there was to be caught not one glimpse of salvation. There -existed among the defenders of the throne and the altar an -animosity to the Poles truly revolting, unjustifiable traces of -which even yet remain. It was the heaviest cross, for a multitude -of Christian souls, which the Polish emigration hid in its bosom. -I have the right to speak of it, for no one, perhaps, on this -subject, has received more mournful confidences, and no one, I -venture to believe, has done more to induce among Catholics a -happy change--a change commencing with the good and fatherly Pope -Gregory XVI., and precisely on occasion of Count Ladislas -Zamoyski, whom he was pleased, at my request, to encourage to -visit him in Rome. [Footnote 191] - - [Footnote 191: Until 1837, no Pole was allowed to enter Rome, - without a passport visé by Austria, Prussia, or Russia; - consequently, this excluded the exiles of 1830.] - -But how time and efforts must fail in making reparation for this -strange misunderstanding! and how much it must have aggravated -the sorrows inseparable from prolonged exile--those sorrows -which every noble heart must comprehend, even without having -experienced them, and which inspired, in a sad, gifted soul, the -last ray of its genius! - -"He passed, a wanderer on earth. May God guide the poor exile! I -move among the crowd; they gaze at me, and I at them, yet each to -each is unknown. The exile is alone everywhere," [Footnote 192] - - [Footnote 192: _Paroles d'un Croyant_. 1833.] - -{654} - -Count Zamoyski, always sincerely attached to the faith of his -fathers, even before the death of a beloved mother had developed -in him a fervent piety, lived long enough to witness this happy -change in Catholic opinion. He had the consolation of seeing the -entire church moved, at the voice of its chief, by the -incomparable sufferings of Poland. In France, at least, every -Catholic worthy the name addressed prayers without ceasing to the -divine mercy, that the country of St. Hedwige and Sobieski might -one day resume her place, free among the nations. This harmony -between the irrepressible aspirations of his patriotism and the -daily increasing fervor of his religious sentiments threw over -the last years of his life a warm and consoling light. - -But before arriving in port, how stormy the voyage! Bound by soul -yet more than by the ties of blood to his uncle, Prince Adam -Czartoryski, he had been twenty-five years his lieutenant, his -coadjutor, and the sharer of his fortunes; like him, too, -encountering continually repulse, deception, and injustice, -without being embittered or discouraged. - -Belgium, always hospitable, took full possession of her -nationality in the same year, 1831, when Poland seemed to have -lost hers. She immediately opened the ranks of her army to Count -Ladislas, with the grade of colonel, a position he had won on the -bloody banks of the Vistula. - -For fifteen years [Footnote 193] he watched in vain for an -opportunity to once more draw his sword in behalf of his own -land, or for some cause which might even indirectly serve her -interests. - - [Footnote 193: From 1832 to 1847.] - -He was obliged to content himself with employing his intercourse -with the political men of the two great constitutional countries, -to secure to the Polish question, in the order of the day, some -parliamentary discussion or some diplomatic bias, and to obtain -from the French chambers and the English parliament those -periodical demonstrations which seemed to him so many -protestations of right against the most odious of political -crimes; so many guarantees against a proscription which the sad -destinies of men too often drew down on them, to the profit and -encouragement of injustice. - -At length, in 1846, he thought he saw the dawn of better days. In -the short counterfeit alliance between Pius IX. and Italian -liberty, he hastened, with sixty other Polish officers, to offer -their devotedness and military experience to the new pontiff, -whom all believed menaced by Austria even more than by the -Revolution. From thence he passed as a volunteer into the army of -Charles Albert, and shared, by the side of that noble and -unfortunate sovereign, in all the vicissitudes of the struggle -between Piedmont and Austria. Austria, we must remember, at the -time we speak of, was not the liberal Austria of the present day; -and no Pole could look on this empire as aught save the author -and accomplice of the calamities of his country. Piedmont being -defeated and restricted to its ancient limits, it was to Hungary -that Count Zamoyski next turned his steps. Hungary was then in a -state of insurrection against Austria, but was also a victim -herself to an insurrection of her Sclavic population, unwisely -irritated. To gain from Hungary a recognition of the rights of -these people--rights so misunderstood or ignored by the rest of -Europe--was the mission of Count Zamoyski, and for which he was -willing to confront new perils. The Russians, however, soon -arrived, and, combining their armies with those of Austria and -with the revolted Croats, Hungary was soon crushed. -{655} -After the decisive defeat of Teneswar, the remnants of the Polish -legion passed into Servia, and from thence to Turkey. - -For two years he occupied himself here in disciplining those -indomitable spirits for future contests; for to the honor of the -Ottoman Porte be it recorded that it refused the demands of the -Russian and Austrian governments for the extradition of the -Polish and Hungarian refugees. - -During a short revisit which he made to France, the Eastern -question arose, and he immediately returned to Turkey. He took -part, with the rank of general, in the campaign on the banks of -the Danube, and through the entire Crimean war devoted his -strength, his rare intelligence, his military experience, to -forming regiments of Polish Cossacks, ostensibly for the service -of the sultan, but indulging in the hope of seeing them -ultimately admitted to the ranks of the allies. - -In January, 1856, the preliminaries of the Peace of Paris came to -dash aside once more his patriotic day-dreams, and to destroy -every chance of resuscitation which had seemed offered to Poland -in this rupture, so pompous but so fruitless, between France and -England and Russia. - -No adequate reason has yet been given for that blind delusion -which prevented the powerful allies, in 1855, or Napoleon I., in -1812, from using against Russia the only power which she could -not control, to recall Poland to that national existence which -was her sacred right; and which, at the same time, was the only -efficient guarantee for the independence and security of Europe. - -Made desperate by this thwarted expectation, Poland suffered -herself, in 1863, to be drawn into that strenuous but unfortunate -effort whose miserable consequences are in the memories of all. -Count Zamoyski, now suffering with age and infirmities, made one -last attempt to prevail on England to unite in some kind of -action with France, and not to stand by in silence at those -massacres and outrages which Russia perpetrated with such -impunity, a mockery to the civilization of the nineteenth -century. He failed, and this was his last attempt. - -He died, leaving Europe more than ever exposed to perils he had -warned her against, more than ever recklessly serving the -Muscovite power. - -He died, seeing Russia supremely powerful in the East, and free -to put the seal on all the bloody hypocrisies of her history: -_here_, making the world resound with her solicitude for the -civil and religious liberty of the Cretans, while she crushed out -with her unholy foot the last palpitations of Polish freedom, and -extirpated, with infernal perfidy, the last vestiges of Polish -Catholic faith: _there_, instigating against regenerated -Austria a formidable conspiracy of her Sclavic subjects, while -the highways and mines of Siberia are strewn with the skeletons -of heroic Poles, whose only crime was to spurn the yoke of those -Russians who are a hundred-fold less truly Sclavic than their -victims. - -The history of Count Ladislas Zamoyski is, then, a sad one; it is -the story of a life-long shipwreck. - -All his designs were frustrated, all his hopes deceived. Always -hastening from disappointment to disappointment, from defeat to -defeat, he wearied never, paused never, was successful never. - -{656} - -Deeming no sacrifice too great, and no detail too minute for the -service of his country, he was prompt to avail himself of any -circumstance or encounter any new risk which might gain for her a -friend, remove an error, or stimulate in her behalf the -indifferent. Self-armed against disasters, he raised himself from -each defeat with the tenacity of an old Roman on the -battle-field, where he had been once overthrown, to fall again, -wounded and crushed down by an implacable adversity. - -It would seem as if so many trials, mental and material, public -and private, might suffice to fill that measure of suffering -which is the lot of all below. But no! he had still to endure -those which would appear more fittingly the portion of the idle -and prosperous. - -Crippled with wounds and infirmities, the last ten years of his -life were passed in physical sufferings which made them one -prolonged torture. He endured, during all this time, the -prolonged weariness, the distastes, the feebleness of failing -health; and he supported them with the same imperturbable -patience, the same tranquil and unconquerable courage, which had -sustained him through the sad vicissitudes of his public life. - -How great the virtue, crowned by those great sufferings! There is -in it a grand and mysterious lesson, and one, above all, which -God seems to have designed for our instruction and edification; -for his character more than his career at all times raised him -far above the mass of human kind. No one could approach him -without feeling a profound respect before a strength of mind so -determined, a patience which never failed; before that singular -union of bravery and gentleness, that generous sense of honor, -that equanimity, that integrity. Rich in the domestic happiness -which Providence accorded to his declining years, he was content -to live, content to suffer; yet appreciating any relief, and -humbly thankful for those rare moments of respite which were -permitted to his numerous infirmities. Without disavowing the -aspirations of his youth, he had purified and transformed them in -the crucible of self-denial and sacrifice. What remained to him -of generous pride was so tempered that the most exacting could -not have reproached him. His Christian fervor brightened as the -chills of age encircled him; and the destinies and well-being of -the church inspired him no less than those of his country. - -He gave a proof of this devotion in the past summer, (1867,) -when, so broken in health, he went to Rome to lay at the feet of -Pius IX. a last homage. In the midst of those _fètes_ of the -Centenary of St. Peter, where were gathered the bishops and the -faithful of the entire world, except those bound fast and gagged -by the Muscovite autocrat, Ladislas Zamoyski appeared, like the -living spectre of absent, enchained Poland. - -Nor was it only faith: it was still more--charity--which animated -this soul, so Christian and chivalrous. How can we depict that -compassion and generosity, so irrepressible, toward his destitute -compatriots! or how sufficiently admire that charity of -forgiveness to his enemies--the pitiless enemies of his nation! -Never one word of bitterness crossed his lips. - -"What is to be thought of the Russians?" said a friend to him, -one day, "and how far are they implicated with the emperor?" - -"I never judge them," he replied: "I pray for them." - -For us, who are not bound to exercise such superhuman moderation, -who are witnesses and not victims of these atrocities, we raise -beside the tomb of this just man a cry of grief and indignant -surprise. - -"_Usquequo, Domine sanctus et verus, non judicas et non -vindicas, sanguinem nostrum de iis qui habitant in terrâ?_" - -{657} - -How long, O Lord! shall crime and falsehood triumph? How long -wilt thou leave unpunished this martyrdom of a Christian nation, -which will soon have lasted an entire century? - -But all rebellious thoughts against the tardiness of divine -justice are checked, all the poignancy of sorrow is subdued, by -the remembrance alone of the departed dead. He is gone! His long -and cruel trials are over! He has entered into light and peace! -He lives in the bosom of his God, and his memory will be for ever -cherished among men, with the annals of his illustrious house and -of his unfortunate country. He leaves behind a name which will be -a crown of glory to his children, born in the land of exile where -he died, and rocked in their frail cradle on a stormy sea. He -leaves a sacred grief, which is a treasure to her alone, to the -youthful and admirable woman who gave herself to him in his -darkest hour; the intrepid sharer in his vicissitudes and perils, -the loving and faithful consoler of his sufferings and decline, -and who enjoyed a happiness with him in this world which is to be -interrupted only for a few brief days. - -Finally, he leaves a great and profitable example to all who have -known and loved him; above all, to those who, subjected to -slighter trials, submit to them with less patience and less -courage. - ----------- - - The Catholic Church And The Bible. - - -_Does the Catholic Church condemn the Bible and forbid her -people to circulate and read it?_ - -We answer: NO! On the contrary, the Catholic Church believes the -Bible to be the inspired word of God himself, and constantly -incites her people to its diligent perusal. In testimony of -which, we offer: first, her official declarations; and second, -her unvarying practice. - -First, her official declarations. - -The holy Council of Trent, which closed its sessions in the year -1564, and whose canons and decrees are the voice of the universal -church, binding upon every Catholic under pain of sin, distinctly -says: - - "The Holy OEcumenical and General Council of Trent, ... - following the example of the orthodox fathers, does with due - veneration and piety receive all the books of the Old and the - New Testament, of both which God himself is the immediate - author. ... And, lest any doubt should exist as to what books - this council has thus received, a catalogue of the same is - annexed to this decree. (Here follows a list of the sacred - books, as found in. English Catholic Bibles.) Now, if any one - shall refuse to receive these books entire, with all their - parts, according as they are accustomed to be read in the - Catholic Church and are contained in the ancient Latin Vulgate - edition, as sacred and canonical, ... let him be anathema." - [Footnote 194] - - [Footnote 194: _Can. et Dec. Conc. Trid._ Sess. iv.] - -{658} - -Again, the Pope, who, as the head and mouth-piece of the Catholic -Church, administers its discipline and issues orders to which -every Catholic, under pain of sin, must yield obedience, has -positively declared, "that the faithful should be excited to the -reading of the Holy Scriptures: for these are the most abundant -sources which ought to be left open to every one, to draw from -them purity of morals and of doctrine;" which declaration may be -found in the preface to the English Catholic Bibles now in use. - -Second, her unvarying practice. - -The Catholic Church, from the beginning, has provided effectual -means, not only for the distribution of the Bible among her -people, but also for their knowledge of the truths which it -contains. One of her holy orders is that of _Reader_, "whose -duty," as her catechism says, "is to read the Sacred Scriptures -to the people in a clear and distinct voice, and to instruct them -in the rudiments of faith." [Footnote 195] - - [Footnote 195: _Catechism. Cone. Trid._ pars. ii. De - Ordin.] - -Again, from the beginning, it has been made the daily duty of her -priests and religious persons to recite "the divine office," -which consists of psalms, of readings from the Bible, and of -prayers. The new revision of this office made by Gregory VII., in -which its different parts were first collected into one volume, -became known as the "Breviary," and is still so called. From this -was translated and compiled, in great part, the "Daily Morning -and Evening Prayer" of the Protestant Episcopal Church, the -epistles, gospels, lessons, and psalms of which, thus borrowed, -present, as is well known, so large a portion of the Holy -Scriptures. Indeed, the Breviary is but the Bible, in a form -adapted to devotional uses, and illustrated with pious -meditations and devout prayers. Before us lies a copy, published -in the year 1632, during the Huguenotic wars and persecutions. It -bears the official order of the great Richelieu; and, as we turn -over its leaves, we find that a large part of the whole Bible is -embraced within its pages, and we perceive that as long as this -book can be found in the hands of all her clergy, and is -accessible to every one who seeks it, so long, within the borders -of the Catholic Church at least, the Holy Scriptures will be -widely circulated and intimately known. - -Again, in every age, the most eminent and pious of the pastors -and scholars of the Catholic Church have devoted their lives to -the study and explanation of the Bible. The sermons of the first -eight centuries were principally oral commentaries on the sacred -text. The great libraries of valuable Christian works, which have -come down to us from the primitive church, are made up of volumes -directly based on Holy Scripture. Their writers are well known as -men of great intellect, of unwearied zeal, of deep and humble -piety. Look at this list of some of them: In the second century, -Pantaenus, Clement of Alexandria, and Origen; in the third -century, Pierius, Pamphilus, Hesychius, and Eusebius; in the -fourth century, Hilary, Ambrose, Jerome, Augustin, Chrysostom, -and Ephrem; in the fifth century, Cyril, Theodoret, and Isidore -of Pelusium; in the sixth century, Gregory the Great, -Cassiodorus, Procopius, and Primasius; in the seventh century, -Maximus, Isidore of Seville, Julian of Toledo, and John -Damascene; in the eighth century, Venerable Bede, Alcuin, and -Rabanus Maurus; in the ninth century, Christian Druthmar, -Walafridus Strabo, Remigius of Auxerre, and Sedulius; in the -tenth century, OEcumenius and Olympiodorus; in the eleventh -century, Nicetas, Lanfranc, and Theophylact; in the twelfth -century, Euthymius, Anselm, and Rupert; in the thirteenth -century, the great Thomas Aquinas and Hugo de Sancto Caro; in the -fourteenth century, Nicholas de Lyra, Paul of Burgos, and Gerson; -in the fifteenth century, Laurentius Valla, Tostatus, Denis the -Carthusian, Marsilius, and Le Fèvre: in the sixteenth century, -Cornelius à Lapide, Maldonatus, and Jansen of Ghent; in the -seventeenth century, Natalis Alexander and John Baptist du Hamel; -in the eighteenth century, the learned Calmet, of whose work the -famous Dr. Adam Clarke has written: "This is, without exception, -the best comment on the sacred writings ever published, either by -Catholics or Protestants." [Footnote 196] - - [Footnote 196: Horne's _Introduction_. Vol. ii. part. - iii. chap. V. sec. iii. § 3, Am. ed. 1836.] - -{659} - -Certainly, no age, illuminated with such lights as these, -deserves to be called "_dark;_" no people, taught by such -teachers, could ever have been ignorant. And when we remember -that, as an eminent Protestant clergyman has said, "the writings -of the dark ages are made of the Scriptures;" not merely, "that -the writers constantly quoted the Scriptures, and appealed to -them as authority on all occasions, but that they thought and -spoke and wrote the thoughts and words and phrases of the Bible, -and that they did this constantly as the natural mode of -expressing themselves," (_The Dark Ages._ By Rev, S. R. -Maidand, D.D. London, 1853;) and remember, further, that this -could not be so, unless the people who wrote and those who read -alike had free access to Holy Scripture both possessing the books -and being permitted to circulate and use them, we shall be far -enough from believing that in the Catholic Church the Bible has -ever been "_a hidden book,_" or that the doors of its rich -treasure-house were ever closed to men. - -Again, the efforts of the Catholic Church to preserve and -perpetuate the Bible have been unceasing. As early as the fourth -century, by the direction of Pope Damasus, St. Jerome entered on -the work of preparing a full and perfect copy of the Scriptures. -He devoted twelve years to the study of the Hebrew, Syriac, and -other oriental languages. He collected at Jerusalem and in the -East all the most accurate versions, both of the Old and New -Testaments. From these, revised, compared, and corrected with -each other, he prepared that Latin version which is commonly -called the "Vulgate," and which, as all biblical critics allow, -is the most perfect and complete copy of the Bible which now -exists. During the period between the fourth and sixteenth -centuries, every great monastery (and Europe was full of them) -had its "scriptorium," or writing-chamber, in which copies of the -Scriptures were constantly produced. Of the 1400 manuscripts of -the New Testament which are now extant, not one was written -earlier than the fourth century, or by other than Catholic hands; -and Protestants themselves have no higher origin for their -Scriptures than these Catholic copies, and no surer ground of -reliance on their accuracy than the fidelity and learning of -Catholic scholars. How easy, if the Catholic Church condemned the -Bible, would it have been to neglect this multiplication of the -sacred books, and to silently destroy existing copies! Yet those -who depend altogether on her labors for their boasted Scripture, -have said, and still will say, that she fears the Bible and would -gladly banish it from men. But when the age of printing came, her -efforts were redoubled. -{660} -According to the popular idea, translations of the Scripture into -the vulgar tongues were never made before the Reformation, or -even till long after it, by Catholics. Nothing could be more -false. The Bible, either wholly or in part, had been translated -and published in no less than _seven_ of the common -languages of Europe, before Luther and his Reform were ever -dreamed of. In the year 1466 a translation into German was -printed, copies of which still exist. This translation passed -through _sixteen_ different editions at Strasburg, -Nuremberg, and Augsburg, in the course of a few years, and was -followed by another translation, of which _three_ editions -were published at Wittemberg in 1470, 1483, and 1490; _two_ -at Cologne in 1470 and 1480; _one_ at Lubeck in 1494; -_one_ at Haberstadt in 1522; and _one_ each at Mayence, -at Strasburg, and at Basle, in 1517. Luther first published his -translation in 1530, nine years after the Diet at Worms and -twelve years after he had turned Reformer. Before his time, -therefore, there were no less than _twenty-seven_ different -editions of the Bible in the German language in circulation among -the people, besides almost innumerable editions in Latin, a -tongue with which the clergy and the learned of that age were -well acquainted. In the year 1471 a translation of the Bible into -Italian was printed both at Rome and Venice, and passed through -_thirteen_ different editions before the year 1525. Two -different translations into French were also published; one in -1478, which was printed in _seventeen_ successive editions -before 1546; and the other in 1512, which also passed through -many editions. In 1478 a translation into Spanish was published, -which was reprinted in 1515 _with the express sanction of the -Spanish Inquisition._ In 1475, a translation into Flemish was -published at Cologne, of which _seven_ new editions were -printed before 1530. In 1488, the Bible, in the Bohemian -language, was printed at Prague, and again produced at Cutna in -1498, and at Venice in 1506 and 1511. An edition in Sclavonian -was also published at Cracow in the first part of the same -century. Add to these the different versions made in the "dark -ages," and you have no less than _twenty-two_ translations -and _seventy_ printed editions of the Holy Scriptures in the -vulgar tongues of England, Germany, France, Spain, Italy, and -Sweden, prepared by the Catholic pastors and scholars of Europe, -and distributed among their people, before Luther and his Bible -were ever heard of. When Protestant historians relate that this -renowned Reformer never saw a Bible till he was twenty years of -age, and had been a student at the university upward of two -years, and depict his wonder and delight at its discovery, -(_Hist. Ref. D'Aubigné_, vol. i. p. 131,) we hardly know -whether to condemn the ignorance of the Reformer or the -dishonesty of the historian, one of which must be true. -Circumstances certainly seem to cast the odium of falsehood on -the latter, rather than that of unparalleled stupidity upon the -former. - -After the Reformation began, the Catholic Church applied herself -to preserve and perpetuate the Scriptures with the same diligence -and zeal as of old. A new translation into German appeared in -1534, and passed through _twenty_ different editions within -the century. Another was printed in 1537, and also passed through -several editions. Still another was published in 1630, and during -the past fifty years there have been several others. Between the -years 1525 and 1567, _eight_ different editions of the -Italian translation of 1471 were printed, with the formal -permission of the Holy Office at Rome. -{661} -Another translation appeared in 1532, which passed through -_ten_ editions within twenty years. Another still was -published in 1538, 1546, and 1547, and more recently there have -been several others; the principal of which is that of Antony -Martini, which in 1778 received the written endorsement and -recommendation of Pope Pius VI. _Thirty-nine_ different -editions of the French translation of Le Fèvre, as revised by the -doctors of Louvain, were published between 1550 and the year -1700, since which latter date many new versions, and many -reprints of former versions, have appeared in France; of one of -which the great Bossuet is said to have distributed _fifty -thousand_ copies with his own hands. In Spain, likewise, the -Bible, and especially the New Testament, has been frequently -reprinted. The most famous Spanish edition is the renowned -Polyglot Bible of Cardinal Ximenes, in six folio volumes, -published at Alcala in 1515. In the year 1582, the New Testament -in English was issued from Rheims, and in 1609, the Old -Testament, in the same language, was printed at Douay, the two -together forming the Douay Bible, an edition which, if not the -most elegant in phraseology, is still generally admitted by all -critics to be more faithful and correct than any other version in -the Anglo-Saxon tongue. This latter version has appeared in -almost every form, from the largest and most ornate to the -smallest and least expensive, and may be found in almost every -Catholic family which possesses the ability to read it. Nearly -the same may be said of all other versions in the common -languages of the present age. They were intended not for the -learned, but for the people. The encouragement which they -received came from the people, not in opposition to, but in -consequence of, the permission and recommendation of the pastors -of the church: and it is simply incredible that all these -different translations should have been made, and these numerous -editions printed, unless the Bible had been freely read and -freely circulated among the Catholic masses both of Europe and -America. - -So far, therefore, from ever hiding the Holy Scriptures, or even -keeping them in the background, history proves, beyond the -possibility of doubt or denial, that the Catholic Church has -always occupied the foremost position in the preservation and -diffusion of the written word of God; and that to her efforts, -and to her efforts alone, is due not only the continued existence -of the Bible itself, but also of those vast treasures of research -and investigation which tend to throw light upon its meaning, and -enforce its teachings on the hearts of those who read it; nay -more, that Protestants themselves possess a Bible, only so far as -the same church has bestowed it on them; and that their -commentaries and expositions are but mere digests and abridgments -of the laborious and extensive works of Catholic philosophers and -theologians. - -How, then, when the Council of Trent--which is the unerring voice -of the universal church--when the Pope, who is the head and ruler -of the faithful--when the unvarying practice of all ages of -Catholics throughout the world--proclaims that the Catholic -Church believes the Bible to be the inspired word of God, and one -of the great means for the enlightenment and instruction of -mankind--how, then, can Protestants ask whether the Catholic -Church condemns the Bible, and forbids its members to circulate -and read it? Does not all history answer them? -{662} -Do not thousands of sermons, homilies, and commentaries answer -them? Do not hundreds of translations, scattered over all ages -and all lands, answer them? Does not their own possession of the -Bible at the present day, which they profess to prize so highly, -and for which they are indebted to that same church, answer them? -How, then, can they believe those slanders which have, for so -many years, been uttered against the church of God in reference -to the Scriptures? Above all, how can they _repeat_ them, -after the often made and complete demonstration of their -falsehood? - -Still it is asked, _What, then, about these Bible burnings, -this actual hinderance, in particular instances, to the use of -the Bible? And why does not the Catholic Church join with the -great Bible societies of the age in the diffusion of the Bible, -or at least form societies of her own for the same purpose?_ - -These are important questions, and questions, too, which must be -answered, if the preceding demonstration would have its full -effect upon the mind; and for this reason we will now consider -them. - -What is the Bible? Very few Protestants ever seem to know, or at -least to remember, what the Bible really is. Most of those whom -we have met appear to regard it as a book, delivered in its -present form directly by God to man. But this is not so. On the -contrary, the Bible is a collection of different books, written -at various periods during the space of more than fifteen hundred -years. Some of them were originally in Hebrew, some in Chaldaic, -some in Greek. They had no less than thirty-six different -authors, most of whom were widely separated from each other -either in place or time; and they were neither collected into one -volume nor arranged in the shape of the present Bible, until many -years after the establishment of the Christian church. - -Now, it is evident that, when we say, "The Bible is inspired," -"The Bible is the word of God," we mean just this, and nothing -more, namely, that the original manuscript, which any one of -these authors wrote with his own hand, exactly as dictated to him -by the Holy Ghost, was inspired, and contained the revelation of -God. When a copy of that original manuscript was made, the copy -was not inspired. If it precisely corresponded with its original, -it would give a perfectly correct idea of that original; if it -differed from it, it would, so far, fail to give such idea; and -would, to that extent, fail to be a sure guide to the knowledge -of the written word of God. So with a translation; if it rendered -the ideas contained in the original manuscript into another -language so exactly that a reader of the translation would -receive precisely the same impressions that were intended to be -conveyed by the original--supposing them to be rightly understood -by him--then would the translation, in its turn, make known the -exact truth of God. But if there was in this the smallest -deviation, and the ideas imparted by it were not precisely those -imparted by the original, then it would not convey the word of -God. And since not one of these original manuscripts is now -preserved, it becomes evident that there is not an inspired book -in existence; but, at the best, only copies and translations of -books that were inspired, but have long ago been lost or -destroyed. - -{663} - -But even these copies which we now possess are not _first_ -copies, made directly from the original manuscripts themselves. -Moses wrote his five books of the Old Testament upward of three -thousand years ago; and the oldest existing copy of them was made -within the past nine hundred years. How many successive -generations of copies, so to speak, filled up the intermediate -two thousand years, no one can tell. The same is true, in their -degree, of the remaining books; copy of these also being made -from copy, and so on, until the art of printing was discovered. -All of these copies, both of the Old and the New Testament, were -made by hand, in rude characters, and with ruder implements, -while languages were constantly changing, and different ideas -were being conveyed to different generations by the same words -and phrases. From these copies all of the modern translations -have been made, and these translations are the "Bible," as -commonly read and circulated among men. - -Now, we ask in all candor, what certainty there is, on Protestant -grounds, that any of these modern translations is the real word -of God? To be such, the translation must be an infallible -rendering from the copy; the copy must have been exactly like the -preceding copy, and that, again, exactly like its predecessor, -and so on back to the original inspired manuscript itself. And -are Protestants so certain of this, that they have any right to -feel sure that, when they open their Bible, the ideas which they -receive are precisely those which God intended that the words of -Moses, Samuel, Daniel, or the Evangelists should convey? And yet, -unless they are sure of it, how can they really believe what they -read in it, and stake the salvation of their souls on the -correctness and fidelity of copies and translations, about which -they can never, by any possible evidence short of a new -revelation, become satisfied? - -Our object is not, however, to destroy faith in the Bible as the -word of God, (a truth which, on Catholic grounds, is thoroughly -demonstrable,) although it is worth while to reflect on the -difficulties which surround the attempt to make it the sole -teacher of divine revelation; but to call to mind how important, -how _absolutely necessary_, it is, that the Bible which we -read should be a _true translation_ from a _correct -copy_ of the original inspired book. And we think the reader -will agree with us when we say, that the greatest care to secure -correctness is none too great, and the most rigid exclusion of -all erroneous, or even suspicious, copies and translations cannot -be too rigid; but that, on the contrary, it is the duty of every -Christian to obtain, and of the Christian church to provide, the -very best and most perfect Bibles possible; and then to abandon -and condemn all others. - -And this is exactly what the Catholic Church has always done and -is doing at this day. We have already mentioned the labors of St. -Jerome. This holy man lived at an age when most of the old -manuscripts were still existing, when those copies of the Old -Testament which had been in use during the life of Christ had not -all perished, and when the originals of the New Testament, or, at -least, copies of them which had been made under apostolic -supervision, were still attainable. All these, and many -others--Hebrew, Syro-Chaldaic, Greek, Latin, and Syriac--he -collected, and, having thoroughly compared them with each other, -and restored the original text to its highest possible purity, he -translated it into the Latin tongue, which was then, and probably -always will be, the most definite and expressive of human -languages. -{664} -This translation is called the "Vulgate." It is the most complete -and accurate version of the Bible in existence, and the only one -which was made from the originals, or first copies, of the New -Testament, and from authoritative copies of the Old. Protestant -critics have said of it: "The Vulgate may be reasonably -pronounced, upon the whole, a good and faithful version." -[Footnote 197] "It is allowed to be, in general, a faithful -translation, and sometimes exhibits the sense of Scripture with -greater accuracy than the more modern versions." [Footnote 198] -"The Latin Vulgate preserves many true readings where the modern -Hebrew copies are corrupted." [Footnote 199] "It is in general -skilful and faithful, and often gives the sense of Scripture -better than modern versions." [Footnote 200] - - [Footnote 197: Campbell's _Dissertations on the - Gospels._ Diss. X. part iii. § 10.] - - [Footnote 198: Horne's _Int._ Vol. i. p. i. ch. iii. § - iii. p. 277. Am. ed. 1836.] - - [Footnote 199: _Ibid_.] - - [Footnote 200: Gerard's _Institutes_. Chap. iv. sec. 4, - p. 82. Am. ed. 1823.] - -This most excellent Vulgate edition is the very one which the -Catholic Church has sanctioned as the authorized text of -Scripture. The Council of Trent decreed, "that the ancient and -Vulgate edition ... should be deemed authentic in public -readings, disputes, sermons, and expositions, and that no one -should dare or presume, on any pretext, to reject it." [Footnote -201] - - [Footnote 201: Sess. iv.] - -Moreover, as the original manuscript of St. Jerome was no more -imperishable than others which had gone before it, and as it -could be perpetuated only in copies, the church has put forth -every effort to secure these in abundance and perfection. They -were all written in her own monasteries, under the very eyes of -her priests and bishops. They have been subject to constant and -thorough revision. When printing was invented, and Bibles began -to multiply on every side, (some of them filled with dangerous -errors and perversions,) she remedied this evil by stringent -legislation. Thus, the same council says: "Desiring to impose -some limit upon printers in this matter, who, ... without -licenses from their ecclesiastical superiors, do print these -books of Holy Scripture, ... this Holy Synod decrees and -declares, that hereafter the Holy Scriptures, and especially the -ancient and Vulgate edition, shall be printed with the utmost -exactness; and that it shall be lawful for no one to print, or to -have printed, any books concerning sacred things, ... unless they -shall have been examined and approved by the ordinary. ... This -approval shall be given in writing, and shall appear, either -written or printed, authentically in the front of the book; and -both the approval and the examination shall be made -_gratis_, to the end that good things may be countenanced -and evil things condemned." [Footnote 202] - - [Footnote 202: Sess. iv.] - -In this manner has the Catholic Church secured the preservation -of the pure text of Scripture. Starting at an age when it was -possible, if it ever was, to obtain an exact version of the word -of God, she, by the hand of St. Jerome, prepared one which has -stood the test of the most hostile criticism. Exercising over -this her constant vigilance, she brought it down to the age of -printing. Then, rigidly excluding all editions which could not -undergo the most searching scrutiny, she openly endorses all -those which are genuine and faithful, so that the Catholic reader -of to-day, seeing in his Latin Bible the approval of his bishop, -and knowing that no bishop could sanction any false version -without being immediately discovered and punished, knows also -that what he reads and studies is the Holy Scripture, as Moses -and the prophets wrote it, as Christ and his apostles used it, -and as the church of all ages has received it. - -{665} - -Advancing one step further, the care of the church next manifests -itself in the Bibles for the people. These are, of necessity, -translations into the vulgar tongues. They are all made from the -Vulgate by persons duly authorized for the purpose, and must also -be certified as correct by ecclesiastical authority, before they -can be printed, sold, or read. Take, for instance, the English -translation, commonly called the Douay Bible. This version was -prepared by some of the most eminent English scholars on the -continent of Europe, who possessed a wide acquaintance with the -Greek and Hebrew as well as with the Latin and more modern -tongues. This version is admitted by all critics to be exact and -literal, and to exhibit, as far as a translation can do so, the -precise sense of the original text of Scripture. It has received -the approbation of the Holy See and of innumerable bishops; and -every new edition bears the official recommendation of the -ecclesiastical superior, who vouches for its completeness and its -purity. It is hardly possible that, with all these precautions, -the Douay Bible should fail to be, in fidelity of rendering, the -most perfect copy of the Scriptures that exists in the English -tongue. - -But the Catholic Church has not stopped even here. No one denies -that in the Bible there are many passages difficult to -understand, and that it is impossible for those who have no -access to the original manuscript and no opportunities for -critical research, to ascertain the true meaning of these -passages without external aid. The object of commentaries and -expositions is to supply this aid; but these have long ago grown -so voluminous and costly as to be beyond the reach of ordinary -men. And so, to meet this final difficulty, the church -accompanies every translation into a vulgar tongue with proper -notes and comments, prepared by competent and pious persons, for -the illustration of the sacred text. - -From this brief sketch of what the -Catholic Church has done concerning -the Bible, it will be perceived: - - 1. That the church possesses, in the Latin Vulgate, the - earliest, purest, and most exact version of the Holy - Scriptures which exists in the whole world; - - 2. That her translations of the Vulgate into the languages - of the people present them with the purest and most exact - version of the Bible which they can possibly obtain; - - 3. That by her notes and comments she affords to them freedom - from serious error and mistake in their perusal of the - sacred text. - -Now, for a moment, let us turn to the Bibles which Protestantism -offers, and inquire as to their reliability. The ordinary -translations of Protestants are made from Greek and Hebrew -manuscripts. These manuscripts, as we have seen, are copies, not -originals, and, of course, are not inspired. They are, therefore, -reliable so far as they present the exact ideas presented by -their originals, and no further; and the fidelity with which they -do this depends, in a great measure, upon their own antiquity and -their nearness to the originals themselves. But not a manuscript -of the Old Testament in Hebrew now exists which dates back -further than the eleventh century. The oldest extant Greek -manuscripts of the New Testament are not older than the fourth -century; and these are confessedly imperfect, and, in some -places, entirely wanting. -{666} -Out of these manuscripts and later ones, however, Protestant -translators are first compelled to select a text which shall -represent, as near as they can make it do so, the original Greek -and Hebrew, and then, from this text make their translation. - -To the first translation this work presented no small -difficulties. They were unskilled in the languages in which these -manuscripts were written. the manuscripts disagreed extensively -among themselves, and many of them were without lines or -punctuation marks, and in characters long fallen into disuse. It -is not surprising, therefore, that the first Protestant versions -were, both in the text and in the translation, exceedingly -erroneous, and in some portions, utterly unreliable. Most of -these difficulties have vanished with advancing years. Protestant -scholars have become versed in Greek and Hebrew. They have -learned to read with accuracy the ancient characters in which the -manuscripts were written, and their extensive research among the -various versions has done much to clear their text from -ambiguity. But the fact still remains, that the best Greek or -Hebrew text, which they can reach, is later by many centuries, -and more fallible by numerous successive copyings, than those -from which the Latin Vulgate was prepared; and, consequently, can -bear no comparison in purity and genuineness with that which St. -Jerome produced from the first copies, if not from the originals -themselves, of the New Testament, and from versions of the Old, -which Christ had sanctioned by his personal use. And it is this -difference, between the sources of the text of Catholic and -Protestant Bibles, which gives the Catholic version its deserved -preeminence, and has won for it the encomiums to which we have -referred. - -Extending our view to the translations made and used by -Protestants we perceive this difference still subsisting. Most of -these were the result of private enterprise, and never have -received the sanction of great ecclesiastical authority. Even the -ordinary English, or "King James" version, (which is the one in -common circulation in this country,) was a private venture of the -king whose name it bears; and though indorsed by him as the head -of the state church of England, it has never received the -approval of any authority which can strictly be called -ecclesiastical. The people who now use it have no other guarantee -of its correctness than the fact that their fathers used it -before them. They look in vain for any mark upon its pages which -shall assure them, on an authority they know to be reliable, that -what they read is the true word of God. On the contrary, if they -examine their own writers, they find the sentiment prevailing the -the "king's version" is _not_ the word of God. It is accused -of being "without fidelity," "ambiguous and incorrect, even in -matters of the highest importance;" [Footnote 203] and a -well-known commentator has even said, "That it is not so just a -representation of the inspired originals, as merits to be -implicitly relied on for determining the controverted articles of -the Christian faith." [Footnote 204] - - [Footnote 203: _Horne's Int._ Bibliographical Appendix, - p. 37, Am. ed. 1836.] - - [Footnote 204: Macknight. _General Preface to Epistles_, - sec, 2, vol i. p. 26, Am. ed. 1810.] - -These general statements are applicable to other Protestant -translations as well as to the English. None of them are perfect, -or are even claimed to be so. Each is in turn vilified and -condemned by the authors of the others; and not one of them has -yet received the sanction of such an authority as can assure the -reader that he will find upon its pages the revelations of God. -[Footnote 205] - - [Footnote 205: In 1833, the Rev. T. Curtis, an English - Protestant clergyman, published a work _On the Errors and - Corruptions in Modern Protestant Bibles_. The work - contains "Four Letters to the Hon. and Rt. Rev. the Lord - Bishop of London, with specimens of the intentional and other - departures from the authorized standard, to which is added a - postscript, containing the complaints of a London committee - of ministers on the subject; the reply of the universities, - and a report on the importance of the alterations made." In - the course of his work, Mr. Curtis gives various instances of - "the largest church Bibles" "found very erroneous." On one - occasion "an important part of a text he had taken in the - lesson of the day, to his great astonishment was not in the - church Bible when he came to read the lesson. In a note on - the same page, Mr. Curtis says: "The church Bible still in - use in the parish church of St. Mary's, Islington, is a - remarkably erroneous one. A clergyman, who some years ago - officiated in this parish, assured me he was occasionally at - a loss to proceed in reading the lessons from it. One passage - (l John i. 4) has, I have reason to believe, been read - erroneously in this church four times a year for many years." - Mr. Curtis says, (page 80,) "The British and Foreign Bible - Society _have never circulated a single copy of the - Scriptures_ that has not contained THOUSANDS of - _intentional departures_ from the authorized version!" - Who can now say with truth that the pure word of God is read - or heard in Protestant churches or families?] - -{667} - -Here, then, the matter comes to a distinct issue between the -Catholic and Protestant Churches. The Catholic Church has a -reliable and accurate text from which to translate; a competent -and literal translation, containing all sufficient notes and -explanations; and never publishes a copy of even this without the -express sanction of one whom her people know to be able to judge -and impartial[ly] to decide on its fidelity and truth. The -Protestant churches, on the other hand, have a text confessedly -corrupt and unreliable; innumerable contradictory translations, -each of which is admitted to be, in many respects, erroneous, and -none of which enjoys the sanction of any spiritual authority. How -could the Catholic Church do less than to command those of her -children who wish to read the Bible, to read the one which she -has provided for them? How could she do less than expose to them -the faults and errors of the Protestant translations, and forbid -their use by the faithful? What right would this church, what -right would any church, have to be called a spiritual guide, if, -having the pure wheat herself, she permitted those who follow her -to feed on coarse grain, gathered from the store-house of her -enemies? In reference to such a matter, reason and common-sense -dictate a rigidly exclusive policy; and that is just the policy -which has been, and is now, pursued by the Catholic Church. Her -rules are few and simple, but sufficient. They are these: - - 1. That those who would read the Scriptures in a vulgar - tongue must read a Catholic version. - - 2. That not only must this version be a Catholic one, - but it must also have been approved by the proper spiritual - authority. - - 3. That the version must not only be Catholic and properly - approved, but must be accompanied by approved notes and - explanations. - - 4. That those who in the judgment of their pastors would - derive more hurt than good from the perusal of the - Scriptures, may be forbidden to read them altogether. - -Strict as these rules may seem, we believe that any one who -reviews the reasons for them will now say, that at least the -first three of them are eminently just, and that the Catholic -Church, in prescribing and enforcing them, has acted wisely and -for the best interests of men. And when we further state that she -has never prevented the circulation of any Bible, or taken any -Bible from her people, or burned any Bible, except those false, -imperfect translations which, so far as they are imperfect, are -not the word of God, we believe that it will be admitted that in -this also she has done nothing but her duty toward the people -committed to her care. - -{668} - -But that the fourth rule is also just, we think a moment's -reflection will determine. At the date of the Reformation, as we -have seen, the Bible had been largely printed in many languages. -When Luther and the other reformers began to preach, they pointed -to their own translations of the Scriptures as the sole divine -authority, and bade all the people to read them and examine for -themselves. And hence arose a Babel of religions, of which we, at -this day, can form no adequate conception. Text was pitted -against text, author against author. Men claimed the most -outrageous license under the name of Christian liberty. The -sacred words of God were bandied from mouth to mouth in jest and -song and ribaldry. The contagion spread even into the borders of -the Catholic Church. The danger was most imminent that, by this -fearful abuse, men might lose all respect, not only for true -learning, but also for the Bible and for Christianity itself. It -became absolutely necessary to put a check somewhere; and the -Council of Trent, therefore, decreed that in order "to repress -all that rashness by which the words of Holy Scripture are turned -about and perverted to profane uses, to wit, to buffoonery, to -fables, vanities, detractions, impious superstitions, devilish -incantations, divinations, lots, and even impious libels," no one -should dare to take the words of Holy Scripture in any manner for -these uses, but that all such "presumers upon, and violators of, -the word of God," should be punished. [Footnote 206] - - [Footnote 206: Sess. iv.] - -When further measures became necessary, on account of the -increasing turmoil and disputes, the rule which we have cited was -adopted; a rule under which no one who is able to be profited by -the reading of the Bible was ever hindered from perusing it, and -by which, probably, thousands who, but for it, might have made -utter shipwreck of their souls through the abuse of God's holy -word, have been saved from pride and error. But this rule is now -virtually rescinded. The occasion for its exercise has long since -passed away. The increasing learning of biblical scholars, the -progress of intelligence among the masses, the subsidence of the -wild storm of fanaticism and impiety which marked the age of its -enactment, have removed the necessity for enforcing it; and the -sole restraint now placed upon the reading of the Scriptures, is -that contained in those three rules which we have seen to be so -wise and just. - -How then, when no conditions are imposed upon the use of the -original Greek, Hebrew, or Latin texts of Scripture, and when -only such ones are imposed upon the use of popular translations -as tend to give the people a more accurate and reliable version -of the word of God, how can it be said, with even the semblance -of truth, that the Catholic Church forbids or even discourages -the reading of the Bible; or how can it be denied that, in -providing her children with complete and accurate Bibles, she has -given them every inducement to their careful and continued study? - -But now we think we hear it asked, with redoubled earnestness: - -_If the Catholic Church possesses the most perfect of all -copies of the Bible, and really desires it to be read among her -people, why does she not coëperate with the existing Bible -societies in its diffusion, or, at least, form such societies of -her own?_ - -{669} - -The answer is an easy one. The commandment which the Catholic -Church received from Christ was, "Go into all the world and -preach the Gospel," not "Go, distribute Bibles;" and the -commandment which she received she has obeyed. The energies, the -money, which Protestants would have expended in printing and -circulating translations of the Scriptures, she has expended in -founding churches, hospitals, convents, and seminaries, and in -providing the whole world with missionaries, by whose labors, -nations, to whom the Bible could have no access, have been -subjugated to the faith. She recognizes but one means for the -conversion of mankind, and that is, the voice of the living -teacher; and never can she substitute another in its stead. - -Moreover, God gave the sacred books of the Old Testament to his -own Israel, not to heathens. Our Lord, through his apostles, -bestowed on Christians, not on pagans, the inestimable treasures -of the New. The Bible is for those who believe already, for the -"man of God," "that he may be thoroughly furnished unto all good -works," not for the infidel and heathen, who perhaps read it, but -are infidels and heathens still. Such is the will of God, as the -Catholic Church has received the same, and the facts of history -prove that she is right. For when Protestantism arose, its great -aim was to spread the Bible. Its history has been the history of -Bible-circulation, and in the Bible Society has culminated the -Reformation. These societies have labored bravely,0. We read that -previous to the year 1834, a single society in Germany had -distributed nearly 3,000,000 copies of the entire Bible, and -2,000,000 more of the New Testament. That by another society in -Great Britain, over 35,000,000 copies of the Bible, or New -Testament, had been put into circulation before 1859; and that -another in New York publishes every year more than 250,000 -Bibles, and twice that number of New Testaments, and parts of -Scripture. But what are the results? Where are the nations which -have been added to the Christian fold? Where are the signs of -well-developed and intelligent piety in the great Protestant -empires of the age? Have not their own writers told us that the -boundaries of Protestantism are the same to-day that they were -when Luther left it--that no new nations have been added to its -numbers, and, with the exception of the Anglo-Saxon portion of -this continent, that no new territory has been subjected to its -sway; that for the heathen it has done comparatively nothing, and -for the irreligious of its own lands but little more? Look at the -United States, for instance, all of whose people come of good -Christian stock. The census of 1860 fixes the population at over -30,000,000, while a census of professing Christians, of all -Protestant denominations, estimates their number at less than -6,000,000. Is the proportion greater in Germany or in England? -And what a comment is this upon the boast of these societies, -that they evangelize the world, and that the work they are -performing is the work of God! - -And has the Catholic Church by preaching done no better? While -men yet lived who heard the voice of Luther, the Catholic -preachers of Europe had won back to the church more than one half -of what she lost by the Reformation. In a few years longer the -continent of South America, the Canadas, and thousands of the -inhabitants of India, China, and Japan, were sheltered in her -bosom. Another century, and again the Catholic faith was -blossoming in England, and springing green and vigorous from the -soil of our own land. To-day where is the country in which she is -not strong and valorous, strong in the blood of her martyrs, -valorous in the surety of her victory? - -{670} - -Does history leave a doubt upon the mind as to the true means of -Christian labor? Or who can wonder that the Catholic Church -refuses to substitute the human means for the divine, or even to -waste her energies and money on what experience has shown to be -so fruitless? She has the Bible for her children. She places it -within the reach of all. Those who are able, can buy it for -themselves. To those who are unable to buy, she gives it when -they ask. But never has she taken pains to strew the pure pearls -of written revelation underneath the feet of infidels and -heathen--mindful that, as the Lord warned her, "they will turn -again and rend you." - -In conclusion, let us ask of every Christian reader a single -favor more. It is, that he will candidly examine the best -authorities upon this important subject; that he will carefully -reflect upon the reasons we have offered, and decide for himself -the great questions which we have tried to answer. And when he -finds, as he surely will, that the Catholic Church does not -condemn the Bible, or forbid her people to circulate and read -it--that she has never prohibited or burned a Bible which she did -not know to be erroneous and liable to lead her children into -error--that she has never cast her lot in with the Bible society, -simply because she follows the command of Christ--let him undo -the evil he, perhaps, has done, in stating that concerning her -which he now knows is false, and manfully assert the truth he now -has learned, thus doing justice to the church of God. - - [Footnote 207(No reference *): Macaulay's Misc., art. - Ranke's _History of the Popes_.] - -------- - - Sketches Drawn From The Abbé Lagrange's - Life Of St. Paula. - - In Three Chapters. - - Concluded. - - - Chapter III. - - -The government of Paula in her newly founded monastery was -admirable, and she herself was the example of all virtues, as was -also Eustochium. The fame of her rule spread throughout the East, -and went back to Rome, where Marcella still lived and gloried in -her friend. - -The chief happiness of the recluses was to study the Scriptures, -which they now read from beginning to end. Jerome read with them, -explaining everything. His grotto was not far off, and he passed -his nights there, by the light of a lamp, surrounded with -manuscripts and assisted by others copying for him; for he was -now growing old, and his failing eyesight no longer allowed of -his enduring the fatigue of writing. He resumed the study of the -eastern dialects in order the better to comprehend the original -of the holy works, and, encouraged by Paula and Eustochium, -resumed his work of translation, which was continued for nearly -twenty years under their saintly influence. - -At the end of three years Paula's monasteries, church, and -hospital were all finished, with their surrounding walls, which -in those times were so necessary a protection from the raids of -the neighboring Arabs. - -{671} - -The number of the recluses had increased, and Paula now divided -them into three communities, each one having an abbess or mother -at its head, after the plan of St. Pacomius. - -During the week their vows of enclosure prevented all intercourse -with the outer world. They all went on Sunday to the church at -Bethlehem; for the holy sacrifice of the Mass was not offered up -at their own chapel, St. Jerome never having deemed himself -worthy to mount the steps of the altar, such was his profound -humility; and Vincentius, the only priest they had beside, did -not attempt to officiate where Jerome dared not. - -Paula was the soul of her communities. Her austerities were as -great as her charities, and these were without number. St. Jerome -represents her like a devoted mother to each and all of her -spiritual daughters, loving them all and studying their -characters equally, in order to guide each one according to her -individual nature and for the best. Intellectual activity was -greatly encouraged among them by her, and she took care to -furnish them with books and food for the mind. In this Jerome was -of great assistance to her. His convent was the dwelling of -science and letters as well as of asceticism. He had around him -many men of vast erudition, who in taking care of their souls did -not forswear the paths of learning, and in solitude pursued their -studies. They also wrote books which were read with great avidity -by Paula and her religious family. Jerome himself, in addition to -his great works, composed many pious biographies, and among -others the life of St. Epiphanius, at the particular request of -Paula. The latter had now taught her daughters to copy the -Psalms, which Jerome had translated at Rome by the order of Pope -Damasus. This was a work of importance, as exactness was -necessary in order to repair the harm done to the work by neglect -of the original manuscripts. Copying thus became universal in all -monasteries, owing to the impetus given to it by Paula, and to it -we are indebted for the preservation of much that is of -inestimable value to Christianity. - -Paula now urged Jerome to revise all his various translations of -the Holy Scriptures, and this prodigious work was concluded by -him as early as the year 390. The book was dedicated to Paula and -Eustochium. To Paula particularly, _palmam ferat qui -meruit_, great praise is due for the holy influence she -exercised for so many years over St. Jerome, to such a noble -purpose, and which produced such fruits in the translation of the -Bible called the Vulgate, still used in the church after the -lapse of so many centuries. - -All these pious labors gave great renown to Paula's monasteries, -and she who had thought to hide herself from the world, saw the -curious world appear at her gates, attracted by the beacon light -of Bethlehem. Her buildings could scarcely contain the visitors -who flocked to see her. St. Augustine himself had sent his -beloved friend, Alypius, across the seas to witness these wonders -and to see Jerome and Paula. Augustine afterward wrote to Jerome, -thus beginning a friendship between these two great men, one of -whom was just risen above the horizon of the church, while the -other great luminary was on the decline, though spreading out his -rays in all the splendor of the setting sun. - -{672} - -But that which most astonished the pilgrims to Bethlehem was not -Jerome nor any other inhabitant of this holy place, but Paula in -the midst of her virgins. "What country," says St. Jerome, "does -not send hither its pilgrims to see Paula, who eclipses us all in -humility? She has attained that earthly glory from which she -fled; for in flying from it she found it, because glory follows -virtue as shadows follow the light." - -Among all the visits paid to the recluses, none filled them with -so much joy as that of the venerable Epiphanius, whose early -lessons had had so much to do with the religious training of -Paula. He, too, was delighted; he had seen nothing more perfect -in the desert. The order, the prayerful and fervent nuns, the -austere and laborious monks, the wonderful intellectual activity, -amazed him. He remained some time with his friends at Bethlehem, -praising God for what he saw. - -About this time the discussions on Origenism began to trouble the -church of Alexandria, and finally penetrated to Jerusalem and to -Bethlehem. Jerome was estranged from Rufinus and Melanie, and -others of his early friends, by differing with them on the -subject of this celebrated heresy. Paula was afflicted at this, -and foresaw clouds in the future which did not fail to burst on -her own monasteries. The great doctrinal combats of the fourth -century, in which the church was destined to come off victorious, -Paula would gladly have avoided entirely, but in spite of herself -she became involved in them. Her sorrow was great when she saw -her monasteries as well as St. Jerome and herself excluded from -the Holy Sepulchre because of their clinging to their old friend -St. Epiphanius, who was the champion of orthodoxy and the great -antagonist of Origenism, The ordination of a priest for the -monasteries was the ostensible cause of their being put under the -ban. This priest was Paulinianus, the brother of Jerome, and the -validity of his ordination by Epiphanius was questioned by John, -the Bishop of Jerusalem, on the ground of the youth of -Paulinianus, but in reality because John, instigated by Rufinus, -was profoundly irritated against Jerome and Epiphanius on account -of his own leanings toward the doctrine of Origen. He forbade the -entrance of the church of the Nativity or of the Holy Sepulchre -to all who considered the ordination of Paulinianus canonical. -This, of course, included the recluses of Bethlehem. Their dismay -was great. - -Epiphanius did not consider it derogatory to his dignity for him -to bend his white head before the younger bishop and sue for -clemency for others. He explained the great want of a priest at -the monasteries, and the motives for the ordination of -Paulinianus, and he begged John, for the sake of charity, to -cease such persecution; and then the illustrious patriarch, on -his knees, conjured him to abjure the false doctrines that had -divided them. - -But John would not yield, and talked only of the offence of the -uncanonical ordination. Whereupon, Epiphanius thought it his duty -to expose him, and demanded of the recluses that they should -suspend all communion with the bishop of Jerusalem until the -latter should renounce his errors. - -Notwithstanding this moderation, the rancor of John burst upon -them. All ecclesiastical functions were forbidden Jerome and -Vincentius. Paula's catechumens were refused baptism, and his -wrath went so far as to deny religious burial to the hermits as -if they were excommunicated. Paula suffered inwardly from this -warfare, so different from the quiet and repose she longed for. -{673} -Herself untouched by the arguments of the heretics, she became an -object of envy. But the voice of calumny could not disturb the -serenity of her mind, and by no word or sign did she ever show -impatience or anger. She endeavored also to console St. Jerome -for the wounds he had received. She loved to quote Scripture to -him, to soothe his mind. It was in the Bible that she always -found strength to endure every evil. - -Finally, Bishop John, carrying his hatred to Jerome to its -climax, passed a decree of banishment against him. Jerome, worn -out by contention, wished to depart at once, but Paula said to -him these touching words: "They hate us and would crush us, but -let us return patience for hatred, humility for arrogance. Does -not St. Paul bid us return good for evil? And when our conscience -tells us that our sufferings do not proceed from sin, we are very -certain that the afflictions of this world are only the assurance -of eternal reward. Bear, then, with the trials that assail you -and do not quit our beloved Bethlehem." - -In this way Paula sustained and soothed the old monk by the -delicacy and serenity of her own noble soul, which lived so high -up in the love of God that the storms of this world passed by -leaving her unharmed. - -After a while Jerome was freed from this phase of persecution by -the Metropolitan of Palestine, Cesarius, who was a prudent and -wise man. These perils ended, Paula encouraged him to recommence -his great labors on the Bible, and also to renew his -correspondence with his friends, and to think no more of this -painful episode, but to suffer the tempest without to rage and no -longer disturb him. [sic] - -We will turn away from these discussions, at which we have -glanced but cursorily, though unavoidably, to rest our minds in -the contemplation of virtue. - -Jerome now wrote more of his most admirable letters, and Paula -continued the even tenor and pious practices of her life. She -received a visit from Fabiola, who came from Rome in search of -that peace and solitude which she believed could be best found in -Bethlehem. This visit gave great joy to the recluses; for Fabiola -could tell them of all their friends in Rome, of Paulina and -Pammachius, of Toxotius and his wife Laeta, and of the young -Paula, called after her venerable grandmother. She brought them -messages from Marcella and the Aventine. While Fabiola was with -them, they resumed the habits of former years, and read the Holy -Scriptures together, Jerome explaining it to them. The ardor of -Fabiola was wonderful. After she had ended her visit and left -Bethlehem, much was done by Rufinus and Melanie to estrange her -from her old friends. But she could not be moved and had -determined to settle near them. - -At this time, however, dark rumors of invasion threw -consternation among the quiet inhabitants of the monasteries. It -was rumored that the Huns threatened Jerusalem. Other cities had -already been besieged, and they were now before Antioch. Arabia, -Phoenicia, Palestine, and Egypt were filled with terror. On all -sides preparations for defence were being made, and the walls of -Jerusalem, too long neglected, were now under repair. - -To save her monasteries from insult, Paula meditated flight, and -conducted her whole community to the sea-shore, ready to embark -if the barbarians made their appearance. But the Huns having -suddenly diverged in another direction, Paula brought back her -followers to their beloved monasteries, and with a joyful heart -once more took possession of them. - -{674} - -These events decided Fabiola to return to Rome. When all the -troubles had ceased, Jerome wrote to her: "You would not remain -with us; you feared new alarms. So be it. You are now tranquil; -but, notwithstanding your tranquillity, I venture to say that -Babylon will often make you sigh for the fields of Bethlehem. We -are now at peace, and from this manger, which has been restored -to us, we once more hear the wail of the infant Christ, the -echoes of which I send you across the seas." - -Unfortunately, however, the peace and quiet did not last long. -After three years the dispute with the Bishop of Jerusalem was -renewed with great violence. But the bishop, Theophilus, having -only declared himself against Origenism, John was finally brought -to reason by him, and Jerome and Rufinus were reconciled in his -presence, before the altar in the church of the Holy Sepulchre. -Peace now reigned in the monasteries on what appeared to be a -surer foundation. - -But other sorrows came pouring in. News arrived from Rome of the -death of Paulina, when she was but thirty, and Pammachius was -left a widower and without posterity. - -His loss in the daughter of Paula was great, for theirs was an -admirable and holy union; for Paulina loved her husband and would -have endeavored not only to make him happy, but virtuous. The -grief of Pammachius was overwhelming. He had now but one wish on -earth, which was to do something for the good of Paulina's soul. - -It was an ancient custom in Rome at the obsequies of persons of -distinction to give alms in honor of the dead, and to perpetuate -their memory. This was called the _funeraticium_. On the day -fixed for that of Paulina the streets of Rome were thronged. -Troops of the poor, the lame, and the maimed wended their way to -the church in answer to the invitation of Pammachius. The gilded -door of the great basilica was open before them, and Pammachius -himself was there distributing on all sides abundant alms in the -name of Paulina. - -Who can describe the grief of Paula when the news reached -Bethlehem of the death of Paulina? She was ill for days -afterward, and Eustochium feared for her life. Jerome wrote to -Pammachius on the sorrowful event. "Who can see," cried he, -"without grief, this beauteous rose gathered before her time and -faded away? Our precious pearl, our emerald, is broken." - -Paula's only consolation was in the admirable conduct of -Pammachius. "This death was prolific," said St. Jerome, "for it -gave a new life to Pammachius." He had always been a good -Christian, he now became a heroic one. He thought of heaven, -where his faith made him see his beloved Paulina; the example of -Paula and Eustochium, and of his holy friend Jerome, all combined -to detach him from the things of earth. He felt inspired with the -noble resolution to consecrate to God the remaining years of his -life. He assumed the dress of a monk and passed his time in -charities and prayer. The jewels of Paulina were converted into -money and given to the poor, and also her dower and the house of -the noble senator was thrown open to all who were in want. -Fabiola generously seconded him in founding hospitals, and their -combined resources enabled them to accomplish great charities in -Rome. - -{675} - -"Ordinary husbands," said St. Jerome, "show their affection and -love by scattering roses and lilies and violets over a grave. Our -Pammachius has covered the tomb of his departed wife with holy -ashes, and with the perfume of charity. These are the aromatics -with which he has embalmed Paulina." Such fruits were a great -solace to Paula. When she heard that he had given away Paulina's -dower to the poor, she exclaimed, "These are indeed the heirs -that I would see my daughter have! Pammachius has not given me -time even to express my wish; he has been beforehand with me!" - -In the midst of her grief a ray of joy came from Rome, in the -proposition from Toxotius and Laeta to send young Paula to her -grandmother. They had determined that, in order to secure such -holy training for their child, she should leave Rome and go to -the East, where Paula and Eustochium would bring her up in the -way of truth. Eustochium begged her of Laeta, and young Paula did -eventually come to Bethlehem to join her aunt; but her venerable -grandmother was no longer there to receive her. - -The burden of years was now beginning to be felt by Paula. Sorrow -and sadness pressed upon her, yet the ineffable beauty of her -soul was greater than ever. St. Francis de Sales says of her that -"she was like a beautiful and sweet violet, so sweet to see in -the garden of the church." It is this exquisite and rare perfume -which we must enjoy more in speaking of her in the years just -before her death, when God seemed to touch her soul with a -singularly soft and mellow light, like the evening of a fair day. -She had been much disturbed by the renewal of the dissensions -between St. Jerome and the Origenists. We have already said how -she had grieved over the first encounter, seeing bishops against -bishops, friends against friends, hermits against hermits. But -the new struggles were still more painful to her: they had become -personal, and, notwithstanding the reconciliation with Rufinus, -he had attacked St. Jerome's character and writings, and the -latter was obliged to defend himself. Paula had also witnessed -another painful sight. After the council condemning Origen, the -monks accused of sharing his erroneous opinions were driven away -from the desert, and among them were many whom Paula had formerly -known and venerated, and who were now homeless wanderers. The -severity of the Patriarch of Alexandria against them grieved her -deeply; and, the most bitter of all, her tears were those she -shed for the throes of the church and for the evil passions of -men. New sorrows came upon her also. She heard of the death of -Fabiola, her old and dear friend. Then came the death of St. -Epiphanius, who had been to Paula like a beloved father. - -Toxotius, her only son, was now taken away. All her children but -Eustochium were dead. What was left for Paula but suffering? -Physical infirmities accumulated upon her the result of her -austerities. Of these she would merely say, "When I am weak, then -it is that I am strong;" and again, "We must resign ourselves to -carrying our treasure in brittle vases, until the day comes when -this miserable body shall be robed in immortality." She also -loved to repeat these words: "If the sufferings of Christ abound -in us, his consolations abound also. Sharers of his bodily agony, -we will also be partakers of his glory." - -{676} - -The things of earth could no longer touch her, for she had seen -how passing they are and knew that they could not last. The -longing for the heavenly country grew in proportion. She would -say with the patriarchs of the desert, "We are but travellers on -the earth." And when her sufferings increased, she murmured -gently, "Oh! who will give me the wings of a dove, that I may fly -to everlasting rest?" - -She no longer belonged to the earth, she was almost in heaven. -Her soul had reached such extraordinary perfection that she -seemed already to see the glory and to hear the harmonies of -heaven. Peace and joy were suffused throughout her being, rising -above her sufferings. Her love of God grew greater, and death -seemed to her not a separation from those she loved on earth, but -an indissoluble union with God, in whom all joys are found again. -"Who," says St. Jerome, "can tell without tears how Paula died?" -He himself wrote immortal pages on the subject, which have -consoled many a dying soul since. - -When Sainte Chantal was on her death-bed, she asked to have read -to her once more St. Jerome's account of the death of Paula, to -which she listened with wonderful attention, repeating several -times these words: "What are we? Nothing but atoms alongside of -these grand nuns." - -It was in the year A.D. 403 that Paula fell ill. When it became -known that her life was in imminent danger, the whole monastery -was in consternation. - -Eustochium could not be comforted; she who had never quit her -mother from childhood could not bear the thought of separation. -Her love for her mother, which had always been so touching, shone -now in all the ardor and strength of her nature. She would yield -her place by the bedside to no one by day or by night. Every -remedy was administered by her hands, and she would throw herself -on her knees by the bed, and implore God to suffer them to die -together and be laid in one tomb. But these tears and these -prayers could not postpone the hour marked by God for the end. -Her time had expired; Paula had suffered enough and wept enough. -She should now see joy, and put on the robes of glory. It became -evident that her strength was failing, and that she had but a few -days left to live. She bore her sufferings with admirable -patience and heavenly serenity. She was grateful for the care -bestowed on her by Eustochium and the devoted daughters of the -house, but her whole mind was given up to the thought of opening -Paradise. Her lips were heard to murmur her favorite verses from -Scripture. - -The Bishop of Jerusalem and all the bishops of Palestine, -together with a great number of religious, flocked to her bedside -to witness this saintly death. The monastery was filled with -them. But Paula, absorbed in God, saw them not, heard them not. -Several asked her questions, but she did not answer. Jerome then -approached and wished to know if she were troubled and why she -did not speak. She answered in Greek, "Oh! no; I have neither -trouble nor regret; I feel, on the contrary, great inward peace." - -After these words she spoke no more, but her fingers ceased not -to make the sign of the cross. At last, however, she opened her -eyes with joy, as if she saw a celestial vision, and as if -hearing the divine voice of the canticle, "Rise up, come to me, O -my dove, my beloved, for winter is past and the rain has -disappeared." She spoke as if in answer, for she continued, in -low but joyful tones, the words of the sacred song: "Flowers have -appeared on the earth, the time for gathering them has arrived." -Then she added, "I think I see the good things of the Lord in the -land of the living." With these words on her lips Paula expired. -{677} -She had lived to the age of fifty-six years eight months and -twenty-one days; of which time, twenty-five years had been passed -since her widowhood in religious life. - -Her obsequies were a marvel. Before consigning her body to the -tomb, it was carried to the church of the Nativity at Bethlehem, -which she loved and where she lay for three days with uncovered -face, for the visitation and veneration of the faithful. Crowds -flocked from all parts to do her honor, and bishops sought to -take part in the funeral ceremonies and to show respect to the -lamented deceased. Among the hermits of the desert, it was almost -esteemed a sacrilege to stay away. John of Jerusalem himself -officiated. But the most touching part of the spectacle was the -long array of the poor, following in the procession, and weeping -for their mother. Death had not altered the noble countenance of -Paula; she was only pale, and looked as if sleeping. The people -could not tear themselves away from this last view of her beloved -features. She was finally interred under this same church, in a -grotto, where her tomb may still be seen up to the present time. -During the week following her burial, the crowd continued to -linger about her tomb, singing psalms in Hebrew, in Greek, and in -Latin or in Syriac. - -All this time, the sorrow of Eustochium had been terrible to -behold. Her very being was rent in twain. She could not be torn -away from her mother's body up to the last, but would remain by -her, tenderly kissing her eyes, throwing her arms around her, and -beseeching to be buried in the tomb with her. This continued -until the grave shut out the form of Paula from her for ever. - -Jerome tried to console her, though himself bowed down by grief. -Of all the souls he had directed, none were so lofty nor so -intimately connected with his own as that of Paula. So crushed -was he by this loss, that it was long before the world again -heard his mighty voice. - -He found some solace in composing two epitaphs in her honor, to -be engraved, one at the entrance of the grotto where the grave -lay, the other on the grave itself. The following is the -translation of the inscription on the sepulchre of Paula: - - "The daughter of the Scipios, of the Gracchi, the illustrious - blood of Agamemnon, rests in this place. She bore the name of - Paula. She was the mother of Eustochium. First in the senate of - Roman matrons, she preferred the poverty of Christ and the - humble fields of Bethlehem, to all the splendor of Rome." - -In this epitaph, Paula's whole history is told. The other epitaph -of St. Jerome, engraved on the entrance of the grotto, -reproduces, in other terms, the same record of virtue, and, what -is more, shows its sublime origin. It is in the following words: - - "Seest thou that grotto cut in the rock? It is the tomb of - Paula, now an inhabitant of the heavenly kingdom. She gave up - her brother, her relations, Rome, her country, her wealth, her - children, for the grotto of Bethlehem, where she is buried. It - was there, O Christ! that your cradle was. It was there that - the Magi came to make you their mystical offerings, O man God!" - -Eustochium desired St. Jerome, besides these two epitaphs, to -write a funeral eulogium on her mother. With a hand trembling -with age and emotion, he performed this pious duty. We should -here mention that most of the details we have endeavored to give -in this short narrative, are taken from what is, perhaps, -considered the most eloquent and touching of all his writings. -{678} -At the conclusion, he thus apostrophizes her: - - "Farewell, O Paula! Sustain, by your prayers, the declining - years of him who so revered you. United now by faith and good - works with Christ, you will be more powerful above than you - were here below. I have engraved your praise, O Paula! on the - rock of your sepulchre, and to it I add these pages; for I wish - to raise to you a monument more lasting than adamant, that all - may learn that your memory was honored in Bethlehem, where your - ashes repose." - -Paula's good works died not with her. Her monasteries were -continued piously and courageously by Eustochium, the worthy -daughter of such a mother. With time, heresies arose to disturb -the atmosphere anew; and the controversy of Pelagius aroused the -latent powers of Jerome, and for some time absorbed him, to the -detriment of his studies. But at the prayer of Eustochium, and in -memory of Paula, he finally resumed his labors, and in the year -403 concluded his great work in the translation of the Bible, -which is called the Vulgate, and was adopted by the church in the -last universal council. - -The Pelagians having set fire to the monasteries of Bethlehem, -all the buildings erected by the pious care of Paula were burned -to the ground. This act was odious to the whole world. It was -admirable to see the serenity of Eustochium under this trial. She -went to work, and, using for that purpose the noble dower brought -to her by her niece Paula, who had come to her at Bethlehem, the -monasteries were soon built up again, and filled with their -former inhabitants. About this time, Alaric, King of the Huns, -overran Rome with his barbarian hordes, and numberless Christian -refugees from them came to the East in search of an asylum. -Pammachius and Marcella were dead, but many of their friends were -numbered among the exiles. Eustochium and Jerome received all who -came with wide-open doors, and the hospitality of Paula still -lived in her successors. - -Eustochium survived her mother only sixteen years. She expired -without a struggle, like one falling asleep. No further details -are given of her last moments. This was on the 28th day of -September, A.D. 418. Her remains were laid by those of her -mother, according to her wish. St. Jerome did not long survive -her. Her death was his last great sorrow; and he died in the -following year. He was too old now to resist the final dispersion -of what he had called his _domestic church_. Marcella, -Asella, Paula, Fabiola, Pammachius, Eustochium, had all ceased to -live. Rome itself was gone, for, to a Roman heart like that of -Jerome's, her captivity was her death. - -He fell into a state of settled melancholy, his voice having -become so weak and feeble that it was with difficulty he could be -heard at all. It was soon impossible for him to be raised from -his miserable couch, but by means of a cord suspended from the -roof of his grotto; and in this position he would recite his -prayers, or give his instructions to the monks for the management -of the monastery. He died at the age of seventy-two years, after -living thirty-four years at Bethlehem. His eyes rested, when he -was dying, on young Paula, who was beside him. She who had been -his spiritual child from her cradle, now performed the last sad -offices for him. We have no details of his obsequies. According -to his request, she placed his remains in the grotto not far from -the venerable Paula, her grandmother, and Eustochium. United in -life, they were so also in death. -{679} -Jerome's principal disciple, Eusebius of Cremona, now assumed the -head of his convents, while young Paula continued to rule those -of her grandmother's. We know nothing more. With the -correspondence of Jerome died all traces of these communities, -and night fell upon the East. - --------- - - - Glimpses Of Tuscany. - - II. - - The Boboli Gardens. - - -The high wall of our raised garden binds on the southern entrance -to the Boboli: our white spirae droops down into it like a -willow, so large and in such perfect bloom that strangers stop to -sketch it as they pass. The good grand duke has gone since I last -was here; the Sardinian bayonet is gleaming exactly where the -Austrian sentinel stood. The Boboli has changed masters--not for -the first time--and accepts the situation with the serenity of a -veteran. - -It is a bright Sunday morning. There is still time for a walk -there before the Military Mass at Santo Spirito. Twelve years -have not disturbed the placid sameness of this creature of the -hill-side: the laurels are clipped just as evenly, the old busts -and statues look at you, or at each other, just as archly or just -as stolidly. It is all thoroughly man-made--intensely artificial. -Every impulse of nature has been stifled in tree and shrub, until -they no more dare to lean out of line than soldiers on parade. -The very crocuses steal timidly through the grass, as if they -were afraid of doing wrong. - - "Grove nods to grove, each alley has its brother; - One half the garden represents the other." - -It looks human, every inch; the Lord is completely banished; his -Spirit could not possibly walk in such a garden. And yet this -creature of man seems clothed with imperishable bloom: this death -of all nature seems able to outlive all other life. You cannot -despise it, for it possesses the semblance of indestructibility-- -unchangefulness in the midst of change. In the forests, -dissolution and reproduction are palpably waging their unending -warfare; even on the eternal Apennines, the snow comes and goes, -the lights and shadows of the clouds are endlessly shifting. But -in this miniature world monotony counterfeits the terrible fixity -and relentlessness of fate. Nature is deprived of all free-will, -and moves obedient to a fixed design. - -It is difficult to say how far civilization, apart from religion, -may go with advantage in remodelling the natural man. It is -equally difficult to say how far art may safely encroach upon -nature in reconstructing a landscape. Some of the grand elemental -presentations disdain our interference. We have no control over -the clouds, or the curves of the ocean, or the nocturnal radiance -of the skies. -{680} -But the surface of the earth is an unfinished sketch, which the -Creator has left us to humanize, in some small degree, after our -fancy. We do not make even the smallest impression upon its -planetary aspect; but, after centuries of toil, we succeed in -partially changing its more immediate expression. We take the -groundwork ready made, accept the laws as we find them, and then, -inspired by the supreme longing after unrevealed beauty, which, -in some shape or other, haunts every human soul, proceed to -establish a little paradise of our own. - -But above and beyond that last temporal Eden, there is still -another--the one beyond the grave. I, who am an immortal spirit -capable of sharing the celestial joy of angels, predestined for -the beatific vision; I, whose hereafter should be passed amid -perpetual light, and peace, and beauty; may I not have imaginings -of better forms, of sweeter faces, of fairer prospects, of deeper -skies, and even of diviner stars than those revealed to the -senses? Did Raphael ever see a face that equalled hers of the San -Sisto? Was there ever in the flesh a form to rival the Apollo of -the Vatican? Is there any pattern in nature for Giotto's -Campanile? Is there any voice in the woods or seas to suggest the -melodies of Kreutzer or the harmonies of Beethoven? And may we -not, then, poetize our landscapes too, and throw into the face of -nature the expression of a human soul? But here is precisely the -difficulty: the landscape has a soul of its own, which must not -be murdered, even to make way for ours. The Grand Master has been -at work before us; his works have wandered, of their own sweet -will, into shapes and combinations that exhibit the grace beyond -the reach of art. The mountains, the streams. the valleys, are -full of these sweet surprises. The true artist can do little more -than reproduce them, squared and framed, for parlor -contemplation: the true gardener can do little more than display -them to the best advantage. - -It is more than likely, though, that, when the Boboli Gardens -were laid out by the Medici, the artists employed had only to -deal with unornamented slopes of olive orchards and arable land. -The landscape was less to be remodelled than created. The surface -under treatment was artistically as blank as uncolored canvas-- -as meaningless as quarried marble. With this difference, however: -that while the groundwork of the painter fades and wrinkles, -while marble stains and shatters, while even the sculptured -arches of great cathedrals crumble into dust, the living canvas -on which the landscape gardener works is not only imperishable, -but so charged with vitality that it gains instead of losing by -duration; or, should a touch of decay at last appear, it is but -in transition to new phases of beauty. One would think that, -where human fancy is free to conceive a garden of delight, and -human means sufficient to ransack the ages and spoil the climes -for its embellishment, the result could not escape being a public -and paramount attraction. I take this Boboli Garden as a sample -of most public gardens or parks. Are they popularly, or even -selectly, attractive? Are they ever thronged, except at stated -hours, when people chiefly congregate to exhibit themselves and -criticise each other? Was an artist, by any miracle, ever caught -there more than once, save in the capacity of casual saunterer? -Are they not startlingly unfrequented, in spite of their superb -richness and beauty? -{68l} -However conducive these civic Edens to municipal health, have not -the park police an almost exclusive monopoly of the fresh air and -gravel? Do these magnets draw by dint of their intrinsic beauty? -It may safely be questioned. And may not this failure be -attributed to our vague, unpronounced repugnance to having nature -out of harmony with itself and ourselves? Notwithstanding all the -gilt and carmine of the new emblazonry, we keep asking the gay -palimpsest to restore the lost features of our first friend. - -The curse that fell on Adam also visited the earth from which he -was taken. The heart of fallen man is full of yearning; the face -of nature is full of sympathetic sadness; her voice is nearer a -sigh than a song. More than half the year is clouded, more than -half the hours belong to night, and over more than half the world -goes the wail of the unresting seas. The vast _distances_ -are everywhere softened or shaded into pensiveness; the very -sunshine turns to blue and purple on the hills; it is only the -small _near_ which presumes to be glad with the flash of a -rivulet, the song of birds, or the glance of flowers. And, in -these minor poems too, there is apt to lurk some sly suggestion -of the unattained. Even where the universe is transfigured by the -coming morn, and the world thrills with the joyous cry of -reawakened life, the momentary exultation, the piercing delight -of existence, are soon sobered by toil, or care, or thought; and, -bright as the coming day may prove, the impression left on human -hearts is that of promise unfulfilled. The poorest part of -sunrise is the sun itself; the horns on the Rigi are silent as -soon as the orb is fairly up. - -It may not be overbold to affirm that some of these grander -parks, such as the Bois de Boulogne, bear no mean resemblance to -the first paradise itself. But our lot is changed since then; the -primitive tradition of Deity incarnate has been fulfilled. Eden -could no longer content us; we would not care to pass those -Cherubim with the flaming sword, even if we dared. Between us and -any possible paradise lies the grave. It is worse than mockery to -expect the sorely laden Christian heart to find more than casual -enjoyment in arbitrary walks, and endless beds of roses, and -artificial fountains, and manufactured grottoes. Sorrow, passion, -death, were encountered by God in descending to man; sorrow, -passion, death, must be encountered by man in ascending to God. -Spiritual felicity is less to be extracted from violets and roses -than from sackcloth and ashes. Temporal happiness is not to be -compassed by meandering through shaded avenues and even lawns, -but by the sweat of the brow and the work of the hands; and in -our respites from toil we like the wild, suggestive -irregularities of nature better than a too glaring array of -brightnesses with which we are seldom in complete accord. The -post-Adamic garden needs depth and gloom and mystery as well as -sunshine and flowers. - -I do not mean to say that the Boboli is wholly glad; much of it -is sad or saddening enough. That long, grim avenue of cypress -would suit the valley of the shadow of death. Arnolfo's dark, -mighty wall goes striding down the hill-side like a phantom. The -Boboli was only _meant_ to be wholly glad. Though probably -not designed by a Greek, it is nevertheless Grecian, or rather -Athenian; for, in art, Athens is Greece. By an exceptional -felicity and refinement of mental, moral, and physical -organization, the Athenian realized in himself the most perfect -development of natural civilization. -{682} -The dark, religious mysteries which tinge and sadden Hindu, -Egyptian, and most Gentile life had little hold upon the Greek. -Athens, in her prime, succeeded in escaping the pressure and -responsibility of the hereafter. She aimed at making time a -success independent of eternity. The real heaven of the Athenian -and his disciples, in both classic peninsulas, was this world, -not the next. Eternity was but the ghost of time, a vague -prolongation of the present for better or worse in Elysium or -Hades, the shadow projected by a vast material world as it moved -through endless space. The poets of Greece dictated her popular -theology; her sculptors carried beauty to the very borders of the -beatitude, giving such glory to form that the inspired likeness -is mistaken for the divine original. It is impossible to tell -where the hero ends and the god begins. We have the deification -of man in marble or fable, instead of the humanization of God in -the flesh; or, in other words, the identity of religion and art. -This pleasant way of being one with God, this graceful fulfilment -of destiny, imparted a complacency to Athenian life which we -cannot imitate. - - "In every dark and awful place, - Rude hill and haunted wood. - This beautiful, bright people left - A name of omen good. - - "Unlike the children of romance, - From out whose spirit deep - The touch of gloom hath passed on glen. - And mountain, lake, and steep; - On Devil's Bridge and Raven's Tower, - And love-lorn Maiden's Leap." - -Grecian life, in its highest aspect, was an attempt to reproduce -the perfections of a lost Eden; Christian life, in its highest -aspect, is purification, self-denial, self-immolation, for a -paradise which can never be reached in this world, and only in -the next after life-long fear and trembling. And although we -strive more or less successfully to substitute the joys of the -spirit for those of the flesh, yet "Even we ourselves, who have -the first-fruits of the spirit, groan within ourselves, waiting -for the adoption of the sons of God, the redemption of our body." -(St. Paul. [Footnote 208]) After the knowledge of good and evil, -our paradise must have no walls. The broad expanse of which each -one of us may chance to be the centre, bounded by the horizon and -vaulted by the sky--the whole visible landscape, with its fitful -light and shade, its changing blight and bloom, its alternating -sigh and song, whether subdued into use or wild as on the morning -of the first Sabbath--this whole visible universe is the only -garden in harmony with the vast aspiration, the ceaseless -yearning of Christian life. Our opened eyes would weary of the -walled Eden, as Rasselas wearied of the Happy Valley. - - [Footnote 208: For the suggestion of this text of St. Paul - the writer is indebted to a notice in the _Freeman's - Journal_ of Father Ryan's beautiful lines, "_Why does - your poetry sound like a sigh_."] - -It is a pure and paramount joy to grapple with the rugged earth -and bend it to your will; a joy to pierce the forest to your -liking and smooth a bare expanse into velvet lawn: of mortal joys -perhaps the purest and most enduring. But when all is done?-- - -Take your stand behind the Pitti Palace almost anywhere high up -the hill, on the observatory itself, if you choose. All the wide -valley of the Arno, with its circumference of cultured hills and -woodless mountains, is before you. For thousands of years -industrious generations have been at work on that fair panorama. -Yellow villas are dotting all the heights; olive-trees are -wrapping all the slopes in pale monotony; the vines are trailing -everywhere in endless procession over mutilated mulberries; the -long gray walls are solemnly parcelling out the small Tuscan -farms. -{683} -All Florence is beneath you, with its domes and towers and -spires, its streets and bridges, its memories and suggestions. -The atmosphere is so transparent, the cultivation so perfect, -that the area described by half the radius of vision seems to -enclose only a vast kitchen-garden. But further on, the mist and -haze are settling; the enchantment of distance is falling; -Vallambrosa, gleaming on its mountain's breast, turns into some -mysterious opal; the records traced by man through all those -centuries are gradually erased by the quiet alchemy of nature, -and the same eternal story reappears as vividly as if the -superscription were but the shadow of a dream. - -Turn to the Boboli at your feet. Do you wonder it is a -failure--that Florence never goes there? They love their own -little gardens dearly and the flowers in their windows; for these -are but sweet thefts from nature to embellish home. But for these -attempts to compress universal beauty into a given space, for -this overprizing, overadorning of the _near_, only to be -lost, or merged, or overlooked in the glory of the _far_, -the Christian heart can have but little relish. - -The bells of Santo Spirito are ringing; and I wonder, on my way -there, if that cold white hand of Athens will ever quite relax -its hold on Christian life. - -------------- - - Translated From Le Correspondant. - - Anecdotical Memoirs By A Former Page - Of The Emperor Nicholas. - - -One day, some months after my admission among the pages, as the -classes were being dismissed, I heard a great noise. People were -running to and fro, agitated and hurried; officers of the -service, pages of the bedroom, inspectors, all seemed to be in a -state of extraordinary excitement. - -"Gentlemen, look out! look out! the emperor!" cried in an -authoritative tone the head of our company, while his deep, -sonorous voice reechoed throughout the dormitory, where, -according to custom, we were all assembled before dinner. - -At this name I was deeply moved. My mother and my companions had -often, very often spoken to me of the emperor in recitals where -legend mingled with reality, but I had not yet seen him face to -face. The officer on duty arranged us in military order, each one -standing near his own bed, and so we waited for him. - -Soon the captain of the guard announced that the czar was coming -up the great stairway. The dormitory, ordinarily so noisy, became -perfectly still. There was a moment of solemn silence, religious -in its perfect stillness. We hardly dared to breathe. The -officer, with his helmet on, placed himself at the threshold. -Suddenly, in the opening of the large doorway, appeared a man of -tall stature, in the uniform of a general and in the midst of a -_cortége_ of superior officers. -{684} -His countenance was severe, his whole exterior imposing. This was -Nicholas I. - -Since then I have seen, and closely, most of the sovereigns of -Europe, and more than once have been admitted to the honor of -direct conversation with them; but never have I beheld a figure -more royal or more profoundly imprinted with supreme majesty; -never have I since experienced the icy impression that this view -of the czar produced upon me. - -He walked straightforward in lordly style, his leaden eyes coldly -fixed on those of each person to whom in turn he addressed -himself, and gazing deeply into each face with a penetration that -seemed to mark the very secrets of the soul. His step impressed -you; his aspect intimidated; and his attitudes, so truly -sovereign, added to a physiognomy so haughty, reflected the -guiding sentiment of his life, his utter contempt for mankind, -and his mystical faith in his own all-powerfulness. Of colossal -height and admirably beautiful in face, his hard and penetrating -eye subjugated you at once. Simply clad, even in peasant attire, -he would have been recognized by his look and his imperial -carriage, and surrounded even by twenty generals in full uniform, -the cry would have resounded, "The emperor! it is he!" - -He made the tour of the room, and, after speaking to several -pages, came at last to where I stood. As he neared my bed, the -director approached him and said: - -"Sire, this is D----." - -"Ah!" bowed the emperor, and turning toward me: - -"How is your mother?" - -"Well, sire." - -"She is a good friend of mine. Are you satisfied with your -present position?" - -"Yes, sire." - -"How long since he entered among the pages?" asked the czar of -the director. - -"About two months since, sire." - -"And conducts himself well?" - -"Very well." - -"Bravo!" - -Until now the conversation had been in French. - -"And," resumed the emperor, but this time speaking Russian, "have -you learned Russian?" - -"Not yet, sire," I replied in French. - -"What! here two months, and not yet a word! Why, that is -outrageous. Can't you even say _no_ in Russian?" - -"I ask pardon, your majesty; I do speak Russian with my -comrades." - -"Well, why then, stupid, if you can speak it with your comrades, -do you answer me in French when I address you in Russian?" - -"Because, if I express myself incorrectly to a simple page, I am -not annoyed, whereas, with your majesty--" - -"Very well, that will do." - -I had heard he wished nothing badly done in his presence, and I -knew too little Russian to dare venture it before his majesty. - -"Did you hear that?" said the emperor; and turning toward General -Philosophoff, "Here is one who will never be a fool," added he, -and passed on. - -Nicholas I., Paulowitch, the third son of the Emperor Paul III., -had never dreamed of a crown. He believed himself destined for -the pompous and useless life of a grand duke. Between him and the -empire were two older brothers, both young and both intelligent. - -However, since his earliest youth his character had shown itself -self-willed, domineering, and tyrannical, in a manner the presage -of his reign and harbinger of his politics. -{685} -There has been discovered among the books used in his education -while he was quite a child, a volume of the _History of -Russia_, by Karamsin, and on the margin of which are written -in his own hand these remarkable words, "The Czar Ivan IV., the -Terrible, was a severe but a just man, as one ought to be to -govern a nation." - -Such sentiments loudly expressed by Nicholas could not fail to -alarm a people and court who still remembered the reign of his -father, Paul I., only dead twenty-three years. The reign of this -crowned fool had, notwithstanding its short duration, tired out -even Russia itself--Russia, too, already so corrupted by the -habit of despotism; and a revolution in the palace had at last -put an end to the follies of this barbarian, this second -Heliogabalus. - -During the reign of Alexander I., the court and town spoke freely -of the despot Paul. Nicholas, who neither could nor dared -reinstate the memory of his father, and who considered it -impolitic to permit a people to express themselves irreverently -of a czar, forbade throughout his whole empire even the mention -of a name so abhorred. The legend of his death he especially -interdicted, and so long as the reign of Nicholas lasted, the -memory of Paul I. remained in silence and obscurity. - -While his brother Alexander I. governed the empire, Nicholas, -who, as we have said, believing it impossible he should ever -reign, kept himself in comparative obscurity, concentrated all -his attention on the troops, each day passing them in review, and -occupied himself only with the lot of the soldier and the -amelioration of his condition. The marriage of the Grand Duke -Constantine with the Princess of Lowicz brought him unexpectedly -nearer the throne. At the death of the Emperor Alexander, and -notwithstanding the unequal marriage of his brother, he was still -uncertain of his approaching advancement. But when he learned, -first by the will of Alexander, then by the letter of Constantine -intrusted to the Senate, and finally from Constantine himself, -his renunciation of the empire, he accepted the crown, and from -the day he did so, faithful to his character, he understood how -to reign fully and absolutely. - -Firmly convinced that he represented celestial power on earth, -sincerely persuaded that to his own people he was the mandatary -of God, and held within himself divine prerogatives, he watched -with an overshadowing jealousy the sacred deposit with which he -believed himself charged, and any attempt against his authority -appeared to him a sacrilege and proved him inexorable. The -conviction that he never pardoned even the simple appearance of -such a crime isolated him in the midst of his court and people, -enveloped him in an atmosphere of gloom and terror, and placed -him at a distance that added to his prestige and the respectful -fear he inspired. - -It is said that one evening, about two years after his death, one -of his aides-de-camp, (in the midst of an animated conversation,) -recognizing the portrait of the emperor in the drawing-room, -suddenly left his place, and quickly turned its face to the wall. -"During the life of the czar, I had such a terror of him," said -he, "that I fear the copy, with its terrible eyes fixed upon me, -may disconcert and embarrass me as greatly as did the model." - -This very intentness of look was in truth the power of -intimidation which the emperor possessed. Intending to win a -confidence from any one or force a confession, he fastened on his -victim his cold and immovable eyes. -{686} -The unfortunate was literally fascinated. He knew that a word or -a gesture from the autocrat sufficed to annihilate him, and the -least contraction of his brow froze the blood in his veins. -Terror is the necessary auxiliary of every despotism, democratic -or aristocratic, monarchical or republican. - -Yet these jealous instincts, and this implacable firmness in -punishment, were not solely due to the character of the Emperor -Nicholas, but also to the sad experiences which signalized the -commencement of his reign. Conspiracies against the new czar, -revolts occasioned by the appearance of cholera, indeed all sorts -of disorders, Nicholas had to suppress on his accession to the -throne. From the very first he learned these bloody retaliations, -and never pardoned. - -The first conspirators of his reign, Pestel, Mouravieff-Apostol, -and the poet Relieff, were condemned to be hung. The emperor -signed the decree after the Russian formula, "_Byt po -siemau_" (So be it.) They were then conducted to the place of -execution. Relieff, a poet of the highest order, was the first -one led to the scaffold. Just at the moment when the executioner, -having passed the slip-knot, over his head, had raised him on his -shoulders to launch him into eternity, the too weak cord broke, -and he fell forward bruised and bleeding. - -"They know not how to do anything in Russia," said he, raising -himself without even turning pale, "not even to twist a rope." - -As accidents of this kind--besides being very rare, were always -considered occasions of pardon, they sent, therefore, to the -Winter Palace to know the will of the emperor. - -"Ah! the cord has broken?" said Nicholas. - -"Yes, sire." - -"Then he was almost dead? What impression has such close contact -with eternity produced on the mind of the rebel?" - -"He is a brave man, sire." - -The czar frowned. - -"What did he say?" asked he severely. - -"Sire, he said, 'They know not how even to twist a rope in -Russia.'" - -"Well," replied Nicholas, "let them prove to him the contrary." -And he went out. - -A wealthy Polish lord, the Prince Roman Sanguszko, had been -condemned, as a conspirator, to serve the rest of his life as a -simple soldier, and to immediately join a regiment fighting in -Caucasia. On the margin of the sentence, the emperor wrote in his -own hand, "On foot!" - -Such severity was in him a system. He sincerely believed in it as -a necessity, and a part of the sanctity of absolute power. In -Russia, especially, his knowledge of the character of his people -fortified him in his belief, and he let no opportunity escape to -declare his despotism. - -Of all the heterogeneous elements that compose the immense empire -of Russia, there is not one that ever seems likely to develop in -the slightest degree the idea of liberalism; not a single -nationality in which servilism is not innate, and to which the -people themselves are not as much attached as the nations of the -East to liberty. Hence it is that among the Russians, properly -so-called, and who constitute the main portion of the population, -we find the nobility infected with an inveterate sentiment of -servile obsequiousness, and the people predisposed by -temperament, and moulded by past experience, to the most abject -submission. -{687} -They all have the same character as the great princes of Kieff, -who, when under the yoke of the Tartars, went to receive the -investiture of the Khan of the Horde d'Or; and who, after having -held his stirrup and offered him a glass of _koumys_, -[Footnote 209] were obliged to lick from the neck of his horse -the milk that dropped from his moustaches. Do we need greater -evidence of the servility of the Russian people than the reign of -the crowned tiger, Ivan IV. the Terrible, a despot without -parallel in history, whose subjects, more patient than the Romans -under Caligula and Nero, not only were contented to bear with his -follies and crimes, but actually supplicated him to resume the -throne, after his voluntary abdication through disgust of others -and himself? The reign, too, of Peter the Great, whose savage -grandeur could not absolve him from cruelty, and even the -possibility in the nineteenth century of such a despot as -Nicholas I., what greater proofs do we require? - - [Footnote 209: Camel's milk fermented.] - -As to the half-savage nations of the northern limits of Russia -and Siberia, with populations perhaps only yesterday awakened to -anything like social life, their need is still, as with children, -the master, and the ferule. - -It is easy to understand, then, how a man armed like Nicholas -with an iron will and immense authority, and comprehending -perfectly the character of his people, should have conceived this -superhuman idea of his own power. Never thwarted by the least -resistance, only now and then by an occasional murmuring, we can -need no better explanation of his apparently exaggerated -despotism, of his inveterate faith in the sanctity of his -domination, his conviction that in himself centred his whole -empire, and the faculty, in fine, which he possessed in so great -a degree, of entirely ignoring mankind. - -One day, a short time before the Crimean war, at a grand military -review at Krasnoe-Selo, the emperor, on horseback, presented his -troops to the empress seated in her carriage. Suddenly appeared -on the drill ground a cariole drawn by one horse, and out of -which stepped a _feld jaguer_, (courier of the palace,) -charged with two autographic letters from the King of Prussia to -the emperor and empress. As the empress was the more easily -approached, he handed her the first letter, and ran toward the -emperor to present the second. But some steps from him he pauses, -turns pale, and bursts into tears. The letter is lost. - -Trembling from head to foot, he retraces his steps to try and -find it, but the soldiers, the aides-de-camp, the horses, have -already trodden it in the dust, and the precious envelope cannot -be found. - -"What ails that animal?" asked the emperor of one of his -aides-de-camp. - -"I do not know, sire." - -"Well, go and ask him, and bring me his reply." - -The aide-de-camp spurred his horse, and from the lips of the poor -feld jaguer he learned that an autograph letter from the King of -Prussia to the Emperor of Russia had been lost. He brought the -czar the information. - -The face of Nicholas clouded instantly; his expression was gloomy -and severe. - -"Take charge of this man yourself and without allowing him to -communicate with any one, conduct him immediately to Siberia. Let -him not be harshly treated, but let him never again appear in -Europe." - -The aide-de-camp, as well as the unhappy feld jaguer, were both -to set out, without even changing their boots, for this journey -of 2000 leagues. The aide-de-camp returned eight months -afterward, and was recompensed by promotion from the emperor, but -the poor courier was doubtless dying or dead in the neighborhood -of Tobolsk, such faults as his having escaped an amnesty. - -{688} - -Such instances (I witnessed the one I am about to relate) were -not rare in the life of Nicholas. One morning in the spring, when -a freshet of the Neva had rendered its crossing extremely -perilous, the emperor, on looking from the window of his Winter -Palace, saw a large crowd watching, in evident stupefaction, a -man directing himself, by leaps from one piece of ice to another, -toward the opposite shore. - -He called his attendant aide-de-camp. - -"Look at that fool," said he. "What courage! Run and see what -motive he has for so exposing his life." - -The aide-de-camp learned the particulars and returned. - -"Sire, he is a peasant who has bet he would cross the Neva for -twenty-five roubles, and is trying to gain the reward." - -"Give him twenty-fire lashes," replied Nicholas; "a man who risks -his life in this miserable way would be capable of anything for -money." - -To a desperate caprice of the same kind is due the construction -of the railroad from St. Petersburg to Moscow, called the -Nicholas railroad. The emperor had in his court a certain -general, Kleinmichel, a disagreeable person, exceedingly -unpopular, and of equivocal fidelity, but who pleased by his -reticence and promptness in executing orders. When the road was -decided upon by a counsel of ministers, and its erection -considered urgent, a map of Russia was brought to the czar, who -was asked to look over the course designated by the different -engineers and give his preference. Nicholas, without saying a -word, took the map, marked a straight line from Moscow to St. -Petersburg, and said to the stupefied engineers: - -"This is the line of the railroad." - -"But," they all cried, "impossible. Your majesty will find no one -to undertake such a work. It would be to hide treasures in a -desert." - -"No one undertake it when I command it to be done!" said -Nicholas. "We shall see." - -And signalling Kleinmichel from a corner: - -"Kleinmichel," said he, "you see this line?" - -"Yes, sire." - -"This is a new railroad I propose constructing in my empire." - -"Sire, it is magnificent!" - -"You think so? Will you charge yourself, then, with the execution -of my orders?" - -"With the greatest pleasure, sire, if your majesty orders it. But -the funds, the funds?" - -"Don't be troubled about them. Ask for all the money you want." - -And turning to the engineers: - -"You see," said Nicholas to them, "I can get along without you. I -will build my own railroad." - -And the construction of this road lasted ten years. It did not -deviate an inch from the line marked out by the imperial finger; -and leaving on one side, at about a distance of ten leagues, the -villages of Novgorod, Twer, and a host of others equally rich and -important, it traversed, in the midst of marshes and woods, -nothing but immense solitudes; 706 kilometres of iron rail cost -Russia 400,000,000 francs--a little more than half a million a -kilometre--of which the devoted Kleinmichel, but that as a matter -of course, took a good share. Nicholas, however, was right in -saying nothing could resist him. - -{689} - -Some weeks after the inauguration of this railroad an ambassador -arrived at St. Petersburg. According to custom and to pay him -attention, everything was shown him in detail, all the objects of -interest in the city. He expressed no surprise or admiration; his -oriental gravity was proof against either. - -"What could we show him that would astonish him?" asked the -emperor of Menschikoff. - -"Show him the accounts of Kleinmichel for the Nicholas railroad," -replied the prince, laughing. - -A few days later, General Kleinmichel, in presence of the -emperor, was discussing with Menschikoff some question upon which -they could not agree. The general proposed to the prince a wager. - -"With pleasure," replied the latter, "and this shall be the -stake, if your excellence permits it. He who loses shall be -obliged--at the expense of the winner--to go to Moscow and return -by the railroad your excellence has just finished." - -"What joke is this?" asked the emperor. - -"A very simple one, sire. The road is so constructed that one is -very sure to break his neck on it; so, you see, we are playing -for our lives." - -The emperor laughed heartily at the joke, but Kleinmichel took -care not to accept the bet. - -These two instances prove that Nicholas knew how, now and then, -to listen to a truth well said. He was too certain that none of -his subjects dared fail him in the respect he required, so he -could afford to listen to those who were bold and witty enough to -approach him with the truth. Menschikoff, the same who commanded -at Sebastopol, was one of these; better than any other, he always -maintained before the czar his frank speech, and Nicholas, little -accustomed to such frankness, loved him dearly, and frequently -amused himself with his sallies. - -General Kleinmichel was the aversion of Menschikoff. One day the -latter entered the cabinet of Nicholas at the moment when the -emperor was playing with one of his grand-children, the Grand -Duke Michel, still quite an infant. - -Astraddle on the shoulders of his grandfather, the little prince -made the czar serve for his horse. - -"See," cried Nicholas gayly, "see how this little imp treats me. -I am growing thin under it. The little monkey is so heavy, I -shall fall with fatigue." - -"Zounds!" quickly replied Menschikoff, "little Michel (in German -_Klein-michel_) ought not to be a very light load, if he -carries about him all he has stolen." - -Notwithstanding his jokes, which spared no one, Menschikoff -delighted Nicholas, who could readily enough withdraw him from -the chief command at Sebastopol, but would not deprive him of his -friendship. This was of more ancient date, and founded on the two -good qualities of courage and sincerity. Sometimes, but rarely, -others approached the emperor as familiarly. The celebrated poet, -Pouchkine, for example, dared to express himself in his presence -with a frankness which, even in occidental Europe, and in a -constitutional state, would pass for audacity. - -In the palace of the Hermitage, where they were walking together, -the emperor had led the poet into a gallery of pictures that -contained the portraits of all the Romanoffs, from Michel -Fedorovitch to the last reigning sovereign, and had ordered him -to improvise some verses on each. - -{690} - -Pouchkine obeyed; but coming to the portrait of Nicholas, he was -silent. - -"Well, Pouchkine," said the emperor, "what have you to say of -me?" - -"Sire!" - -"Some flattery, of course? I don't wish to hear it; so tell the -truth." - -"Your majesty permits me?" - -"I order you. Believe in my imperial word, you shall not suffer." - -"So be it, sire." - -And he wrote the famous distich: - - "Des pieds à la tête la toile est admirable; - De la tête aux pieds le tzar est détestable." [Footnote 210] - - [Footnote 210: - "From feet to head the picture is admirable: - From head to feet the czar is detestable."] - -The emperor made no reply, but he asked Pouchkine for no more -verses. - -Notwithstanding his despotism, and the arbitrary acts that -signalized his reign; notwithstanding the innumerable banishments -into Siberia and Caucasia, it is seen the emperor could sometimes -bear to hear the truth. The instinct of justice was born in him; -despotism had smothered it, unfortunately, but his better nature -frequently triumphed. Often the hereditary grand duke had, in -this respect, to submit to severe reprimands. One day, in 1832, a -year after the revolt of the Poles, whom Nicholas had handled -with implacable rigor, the grand duke, in the presence of his -father, had called them _accursed_. Rebuking publicly his -son: - -"Imperial Highness," said Nicholas, "your expressions are -unseemly. If I chastise the Poles, it is because they have -revolted against my authority; but to you they have done no harm, -and you are destined to reign over them. You have no right to -make any difference in your future subjects. Be assured, such -sentiments make bad sovereigns." - -The sentiment of gratitude was no more a stranger to the Emperor -Nicholas than the spirit of justice. True, he guarded as -faithfully the remembrance of injuries as of services, and if he -never forgot those who had served or defended him, neither did he -ever forgive those who had made the least attempt against his -power. While the Troubetskois, the Mouravieffs, the -Tchernicheffs, worked in the mines of Siberia, still there could -be seen, at the end of his reign, several generals perfectly -unqualified, yet provided with advantageous employments, without -any great power, it is true, but well lodged, well fed, honored, -and tranquil. If they committed any absurdity, and this -frequently happened, he changed their places according to -capacity, or sometimes secretly directed them in the exercise of -their functions, never failing in his goodness toward them. These -men, in the military revolt of 1826, had offered their swords to -assist his growing power. - -Strange character! Curious mixture of faults and good qualities, -of littleness and grandeur; brutal and chivalrous, courageous -even to temerity, and distrustful even to poltroonery; equitable -and tyrannical, generous and cruel, at once the friend of -ostentation and of simplicity! His palace was magnificent, his -court splendid, the luxuriousness of his courtiers dazzling, -while, in his own person, his habits and tastes, he affected an -imposing austerity. His working cabinet was almost bare; he slept -always on a camp bed. The oldness of his uniform, and of his -military cloaks, was proverbial at St. Petersburg. Worn out, -pieced in different places, they evidenced, by their shining -neatness, how carefully they were preserved. At his repasts even, -he drank no wine; he never smoked, and the odor of tobacco was so -disagreeable to him that it was forbidden, not only in the Winter -Palace, but in the streets of St. Petersburg. -{691} -Even the Grand Duke Alexander, the czar truly, and an inveterate -smoker, was obliged to sit under the mantel-piece, to enjoy the -luxury of a cigar in the imperial palace. - -Loving beyond everything military discipline, and rigorous in his -formulas, Nicholas, who for thirty years was accustomed to this -refrain, "Master, thy slave is here to obey thee"--Nicholas -could only comprehend order and uniformity. Reviews were his -favorite passion; during his reign, he transformed his empire -into a barrack. He passed his life in manoeuvres, exercises, and -miniature wars. The soldiers adored him, although he was only -eclipsed in the severity of military rule by the Grand Duke -Michel. It is true, the latter pushed his worship of discipline -to such an extent that the emperor himself was often amused at -the expense of his younger brother. One day he met an officer -with his clothes torn and covered with mud, and without helmet or -sword. The officer, finding himself discovered, and knowing he -was to blame, was terribly frightened, and nearly fell backward -in making the military salute. Nicholas fixed a severe look upon -the poor devil, which made him totter. But, suddenly changing his -tone and countenance, he said gayly: - -"Go, dress yourself; but take good care you don't meet my -brother!" - -Rising with the dawn, and at work from the earliest hour of the -day, whether at his palace in winter or in the field in summer, -he hardened himself, as well as others, to both cold and fatigue. -An excellent rider, his horses were magnificent and marvellously -cared for; he always mounted alone those that were reserved for -him, and out of two or three hundred sent every year to his -stables for his own use, he could scarcely find a dozen to suit -him. In manoeuvres I have seen him twenty times, at the moment of -the loudest cannonade and in the most frightful noise, jerk, in -his impatience, his horse's bit until the jagged lips of the poor -beast were streaming with blood. Sometimes this torture lasted -several minutes; the sides of the beautiful animal whitened with -foam; he trembled in agony, and yet never lost for a moment his -statue-like immobility. - -Such methods of proceeding, applied by Nicholas equally to -everything that surrounded him, generals, servants, horses, and -courtiers, were fortunately tempered in him by the sense of -justice, of which I have already spoken, and especially by the -fear of public opinion, not only in Russia, but in all Europe. He -seemed ashamed of the despotism he practised, and strove to -conceal it from the governments and people of the West. In -proportion as he affected to despise their arms, so much the more -did he respect their ideas. - -We know that it is customary at the court of St. Petersburg to be -presented to the emperor in full uniform. And even more, that -there is no condition in life, however trifling, which has not -its distinctive costume. It is related that one morning Lord -----, ambassador from England, arrived in his carriage at the -gate of the Winter Palace, was recognized, and went up to the -apartments of the emperor. He was in his great-coat. Seeing it, -the chamberlain-in-waiting, who did not dare remark this -infringement of the laws of etiquette in such an important -person, immediately sent word to the chancellor of the empire. -Count Nesselrode, and meanwhile retained the ambassador under -various pretexts. -{692} -The count arrived in haste, and the morning toilet seemed to have -the same effect on the chancellor as on the chamberlain. - -"I am delighted to see you, my dear count," said Lord ---- to M. -de Nesselrode. "I wanted to speak to his majesty on some very -important business, but I have been detained here nearly an -hour." - -"Because we do not dare, my lord--" - -"Do not dare--what?" - -"We cannot introduce you to the emperor in such morning -_négligé_." - -"_Négligé!_" said he, throwing a rapid glance at his person, -and aware of his reputation for elegance, and supposing he had -been guilty of some impropriety in his toilet. - -"In Russia, no one is admitted in similar costume to the presence -of the sovereign." - -"Would full uniform be necessary?" asked smilingly the reassured -ambassador. - -"Exactly, my lord." - -"Oh! pardon me, then. I will go dress myself." And he left, -shrugging his shoulders. - -The emperor was furious when he heard of the adventure. - -"Cursed fools!" he grumbled, "they represent me a barbarian!" - -When, an hour afterward, the ambassador returned to the palace in -official uniform, the emperor excused himself with great anxiety, -blaming the narrow-mindedness of his servants, and declaring -loudly that he did not occupy his brain with such trifles. - -"When you wish, my lord," added he, giving him his hand, "to come -and see me as you did to-day, do not be incommoded, I beg of you, -by any such formula." - -This fear of Western irony affected all his relations with -Europeans. We know the flattering reception he gave the Marquis -de Custine, Horace Vernet, and twenty other illustrious -strangers. Those employed in his empire were as anxious to throw -dust in the eyes of travellers as himself. Nothing could be more -amusing than the arrival of a stranger at St. Petersburg, under -the reign of Nicholas. As no one could remain in the city without -a permit, all new-comers hastened to the police to have their -cards presented them, and the scenes enacted were truly comical. - -The following dialogue will give a good idea of them: - -"You wish to live at St. Petersburg?" - -"Yes, sir." - -"How long?" - -Each one then fixed the probable duration of his stay. - -"Well, your permit will be given you." - -Here a pause. The policeman gives the necessary order, then -resumes the conversation. - -"Well, what do you think of St. Petersburg?" - -"It is an admirable city." - -"Are not our theatres as fine as those of Paris?" - -"Most assuredly." - -"Is not the perspective from Newski a superb view?" - -"Truly." - -"Do they not tell idle stories of us in Paris, and are they any -freer than we?" - -"Prejudices these, nothing more. Travellers, like me, are here to -rectify such errors. A proof that Russia is free, I can move -about with perfect liberty." - -"Have you seen the emperor?" - -"Yesterday evening at the Théâtre Michel." - -"Is he not a remarkably handsome man?" - -"The handsomest I have ever seen." - -{693} - -"Sir, your permit must be ready by this time. Will you go and -receive it, and prolong your stay in Russia as long as you -please. You will see that you have judged our country correctly." - -Notwithstanding all his efforts to conciliate European opinion, -the Emperor Nicholas was not rewarded in his travels by any -praise whatever. Once out of his own country, he quickly -discovered he had deceived no one, and his despotism was in -Europe the object of universal unpopularity. - -From the Holy Father he received his first lesson: a lesson, -however, both given and received with dignity. - -It was well known that he had changed hundreds of Catholic into -Greek churches, in all the western provinces of Russia and -Poland. - -Curious to visit Rome, he asked permission of Gregory XVI. to -enter the holy city. The pope asked, in return, by what -ceremonial he wished to be received. - -"As a Catholic sovereign," replied the emperor. - -Lodged at the Quirinal, he went the next day in Eastern style -with a guard of Cossacks to visit the holy father, who received -him standing at the head of the staircase of the Vatican. -Nicholas knelt to receive the benediction of the venerable -pontiff, who, after having given it to him, without being at all -impressed with his Attila-like costume, said to him with a -serenity almost angelic: - -"My son, you persecute my sheep." - -"I?" cried Nicholas in a disconcerted tone. - -"Yes, you, my son. You are powerful. Do not use your strength to -oppress the weak." - -"Holy father, I have been slandered." - -The conversation continued some time in the cabinet of the pope, -and the emperor remained, during his stay in Rome, on terms of -the most affectionate respect with Gregory XVI. He afterward sent -him a magnificent altar of malachite, that may be admired at the -church of St. Paul, outside the walls. An inscription, dictated -by Nicholas to St. Peter at Rome, recalls his visit to the -Capital of Christianity:--"Nicholas came here to pray to God for -his mother, Russia." - -In London, as is well known, he was received with great popular -demonstrations. We need not relate here the tumultuous scenes to -which he had to submit, and how his carriage was more than once -covered with mud. - -With a brutality unworthy a sovereign, and at times a delicacy -astonishing in a man of such a character, the most contrary -qualities and defects reproduced themselves in a hundred acts of -his life. For instance, one night I saw him fisticuff a poor Jew -in the face, and accompany the act with the most sonorous oaths, -because in giving light to the postilions of the Berlin imperial, -he had awakened him with a start, by throwing the light of his -lantern into his face. Again, at Warsaw, where he went to receive -the King of Prussia and the Emperor of Austria, he took Francis -Joseph into his arms to force him to occupy the seat of honor in -his carriage, which the young emperor was unwilling to accept: a -courtesy, according to the Cossack, that would have exactly -suited him. - -Yet this man, so rude and so haughty, evidenced occasionally -great delicacy of sentiment. One very cold day, returning from a -review, where he had been almost frozen, he stopped at the house -of a lady, whom he knew to be in ill health, and met the doctor -in the waiting-room. - -"How is Madame ----?" said he to the latter. - -{694} - -"Very poorly, sire. The cold of St. Petersburg is killing her." - -"Ah! the cold is injuring her? Feel my hands. They are frozen, -are they not?" - -"Very cold, sire." - -"Well, I will wait here until they are warm; I would not for the -world increase her malady." - -And the emperor waited in this sort of an antechamber, talking to -the doctor, until his hands resumed their natural warmth. - -So this character, which, at first sight, appeared all of a -piece, was composed of contrasts the most dissonant. Nicholas -bared his breast to the revolted regiments in 1826 and recalled -them to duty by this single attitude; at the time of the cholera, -alone amid a populace mad with terror and exasperated by famine, -a gesture from him, a single word, could constrain the delirious -multitude and throw them on their knees before him; in cases of -fire, so frequent at St. Petersburg, and under the burning beams, -a hundred times he uselessly risked his life; yet on another -occasion, when the safety of an empire depended upon him, he -resolutely refused to repair to Sebastopol. - -His long reign was fatal to Russia. For nearly thirty years it -accomplished nothing. During the lifetime of Nicholas, the -wheel-work of the machine moved regularly under his powerful -hand, the cogs upon which he impressed the movement never being -completely paralyzed. But the evil, being hidden, was not the -less deep or real. Under this show of factitious strength, the -downfall was already visible, and the approaching disaster keenly -felt. The army, upon which Nicholas concentrated all his -attention and intelligence--the army, his strength, his hope, his -pride, began to be disorganized under the influence of an -administration without control. Alone, the will of the czar -sustained the edifice, and his pride sustained his will. And this -word pride embodies to my mind the character, the conduct, the -whole politics, of the Emperor Nicholas. His ruling passion was -pride, a pride incommensurable, a pride such as neither Louis -XIV., Henry VIII., nor Solyman the Magnificent--these three -crowned representatives of capital sins--could ever equal. The -idea of humiliation would leave him smiling, so entirely he -believed such an event impossible. It may be truly said that he -never submitted, for the first repulse he had to suffer killed -him. - -This pride in him passed all bounds, and touched sometimes on the -aberrations of a Schahabaham. One day, one of his aides-de-camp -came to him very much excited, and throwing himself at his feet: - -"Sire!" cried he, "I beg your majesty to grant me a favor." - -"Speak." - -"Permit me to fight a duel." - -"Never!" replied the emperor. - -Nicholas had a horror of duels. In his eyes, all blood was -criminally shed in Russia that was not for the country or in his -service, and he punished the guilty in this respect most -severely. - -"Sire, I am dishonored. It is necessary for me to fight." - -"What do you say?" - -"I have been struck in the face." - -"Ah!" said the emperor, contracting his brows. "But no, I cannot -permit a duel. You must come with me." - -And taking him by the arm, he conducted him before the assembled -court, and, in presence of all, kissed him on the offended cheek. - -{695} - -"Go, now," said he, "and resume your tranquillity; the affront is -washed out." - -During the war of the Crimea, and especially in the first part of -it, Nicholas, very restless, waited every day for news from the -south. Each one tried his best to conceal the bad turn affairs -had taken; but after the battle of the Alma, the truth had to be -confessed. A courier, Colonel A., was despatched to him in great -haste. He received orders to repair immediately to the czar. - -"Well! what news?" said the emperor to him brusquely, giving him -scarcely time to enter or fulfil the accustomed formalities of -etiquette. - -"The battle has been fought, sire." - -"Finish!" said the emperor, with an emotion that caused his -usually firm voice to tremble. - -"Alas!--" - -"You say--?" - -"Fortune has failed us." - -"We are--?" - -"We are beaten, sire." - -The emperor arose from his seat. - -"It is impossible," said he in a quick manner. - -"The Russian army has taken flight." - -"You lie!" cried Nicholas with a frightful explosion of anger. - -"Sire--" - -"You lie. My soldiers never fly." - -"Sire, I have told you the truth." - -"You lie, I say, you lie." - -And his eye beaming with anger, his lips contracted, his hand -raised, he threw himself on the military courier and tore off his -epaulettes. - -"Go! You are now only a soldier." - -The unhappy colonel, pale with shame, smothering his rage and the -tears that rose to his eyes, went out, his soul in despair. But -hardly had he reached the staircase, when he heard the voice of -the emperor begging his return. He retraced his steps, and -Nicholas, running to meet him, embraced him ardently, begged -pardon for his brutality, and offered for his acceptance the post -of aide-de-camp. - -"May your majesty hold me excused," replied the poor officer; -"for, in taking off" my epaulettes, you have deprived me of my -honor. I leave them in your hands with my dismissal." - -"You are right," replied Nicholas. "It is not in my power to -repair the offence of my hasty action. Ah! we are both unhappy, -and I am vanquished. Yes, completely vanquished!" - -And, walking up and down with an agitated step, the subdued lion -in his cage, his heart bleeding with the wound given his pride: - -"Go, leave my empire," continued he, turning to Colonel A----, -"and pardon me. We must not meet again. Both of us would suffer -too much in each other's presence." - -The mortification attending the first reverses of his army before -Sebastopol was a mortal blow to his health; yet, had not his -stubborn pride brought about these reverses? Self-deceived -thoroughly as to the real condition of his empire, the disastrous -news of the Alma came upon him like a thunder-bolt. Some honest -men, sent to the different stations, signalized the imperfect -state of the fortifications of Sebastopol, the disorganization of -the army, the deplorable condition of the roads. They informed -the emperor that the soldiers, in their march toward the south, -were dying by thousands for want of sufficient nourishment and -necessary clothing. Thanks to the bad quality of the grass and -hay, whole regiments were in a few days entirely dismounted. And -now the alarming news spread with rapidity. -{696} -Each day brought fresh tidings of new embarrassments, new checks, -and new misfortunes. Nicholas at last opened his eyes. He saw the -colossus, with its feet of clay, tremble to its base; he felt his -power crumble in his hands, his prestige fade and disappear. From -the windows of Peterhoff, his loved summer residence, he could -follow with his telescope the evolutions of the allied fleet. -Turkey itself, hitherto so despicable in his eyes, was -transformed into a redoubtable enemy. Now he began to think of -the ravages that continued theft had made in his empire, the -disorders in the finances, the corruption of public morals, and -every one was doomed to punishments. By his order, judgments, -condemnations, banishment to Caucasia and Siberia, were daily -multiplied. It was too late; the gangrene had reached the wound. - -Tears of grief and rage flowed with the consciousness of his -impotence. He opened his eyes to the fall of Russia with each -victorious flash of the allied cannons; and the edifice of terror -that had taken him twenty years to build, he saw crumbling, stone -by stone, and felt that the military quackery with which he had -intimidated Europe had frightened no one. With the mocking pride -of Titan, he bled at every pore. Repeated blows of this kind -ended by undermining his constitution, till now so vigorous. -Little by little he sank, bent his haughty head, and tottered, -with slow and saddened step, to the grave. - -It was February. Under a gray and cold sky, a penetrating, -driving snow enveloped St. Petersburg in a whitened dust. The -streets, the houses, the beards and furred great-coats of the -passers-by, all were white. The great city resembled a giant -asleep under the snow. An inexpressible sadness took possession -of you, weighed down your whole being, and froze your very heart. -You seemed to be at the pole itself. - -On this day the emperor, an early riser as usual, came out of his -bedroom and entered his cabinet, where were already assembled his -general aide-de-camp, his other aides, the chamberlain, and -gentlemen of the bed-chamber. Perceiving his general -aide-de-camp, he called to him, and said: - -"I am suffering. Send for Mandt." - -"I will go myself, sire." - -"Yes. I have a grand review at the end of the week, and must be -there." - -Mandt, his attendant physician, Prussian by birth, a man of -science, and an excellent practitioner, hastened to the emperor, -who, after having given his orders, had returned to his -apartments. - -"It will be nothing, gentlemen," said the doctor to us on leaving -the imperial chamber; "only the emperor should abstain from going -out, as the least imprudence may aggravate a malady which at -present portends nothing serious." - -The emperor remained two days in his room, and there was a -sensible improvement in his condition. But his wasted figure, his -dull eyes, and waxy color betrayed the existence of a hidden -malady. The third day, the courier from the south brought him -news--sad news, certainly, for it had been a long time since his -couriers had anything happy to tell him. The next day was -terribly cold, icy, heavy, impregnated with the boreal fog; yet -this was the day of the review at which the czar wished to -assist. - -He threw a small military cloak over his uniform, and at the -appointed hour left his cabinet, to mount his horse. - -Mandt was waiting for him in the antechamber. - -{697} - -"Sire!" said the doctor to him in a supplicating voice, and -trying to retain him. - -"Oh! it is you, doctor. I am better, thank you." - -"Yes, sire, better, but not well yet." - -"Oh! indisposed merely," - -"No, sire, a serious malady. I come to beg your majesty not to go -out." - -"Impossible!" - -"Sire, for pity's sake--" - -"You are crazy, Mandt." - -"Sire, you had better be resigned." - -"You believe there is danger?" - -"It is my duty to warn you of it." - -"Well, Mandt, if you have done your duty in warning me, I will do -mine by going out." - -And the emperor, without listening to another word, pursued his -way. - -Mandt, stupefied for a moment, ran after him, and rejoined him in -the court-yard, at the moment he mounted his horse. - -"Sire," cried he, resuming his supplications, "deign to listen to -me--" - -"I have said it, Mandt. I thank you, but to insist would be -useless." - -"Sire, in this condition!" - -"Well?" - -"It is your death, sire." - -"And then?" - -"It is suicide." - -"And who has permitted you, Mandt, to scrutinize my thoughts? Go, -and insist no longer. I order you." - -After the review, he returned to the palace, pale, trembling, icy -cold. - -"I am threatened with my malady," said he to his aide-de-camp. - -"Shall I send for Mandt?" - -"Useless; he has already warned me." - -"He warned your majesty?" - -"Yes; that I would kill myself." - -The aide-de-camp turned pale. - -"Ah sire! what do I hear?" - -"To die, is it not the best thing I can do? Farewell, my old -friend, I have need of rest. Let no one disturb me." - -All night the imperial family, who had been apprised of his -condition, the doctors, Mandt and Rasel, united in the anteroom, -waited with anxiety--not daring to knock at the door of the -emperor--for the moment he might call to them. Obedience, in this -court, was so blindly servile that it imposed silence on the most -natural and imperious sentiments. Toward two o'clock something -was heard between a groan and a sigh. Mandt thought he might -knock gently at the door of the imperial chamber. - -"I have forbidden any one to disturb me," murmured the emperor, -in a voice still feeble, but which retained an accent of -authority. - -That night was spent in mortal inquietude, in inexpressible -anguish, and not until the next morning was the doctor informed -by the valet de chambre that his august patient would like to see -him. - -"Well, Mandt, you were right. I believe I am a dead man." - -These were the first words of Nicholas. - -"O sire! I spoke as I did to dissuade your majesty from so great -an imprudence." - -"Let us see: look me in the face and tell me if there is yet -hope." - -"I believe so, sire." - -"I tell you I am a dead man. I feel it. Go on, make use of your -trade. Sound my lungs; I know that science will confirm my -conviction." - -Mandt, having accomplished the orders of the emperor, shook his -head. - -"Well?" - -"Sire--" - -"You are troubled, Mandt; your hand trembles. See, I have more -courage than you. Come, let us have the sentence, and quickly, -for I have to settle my affairs in this world, and I have a great -many of them." - -{698} - -"Your majesty troubles yourself unnecessarily. No case is ever -desperate, and with the grace of God--" - -Nicholas gazed at his doctor fixedly in the eyes. - -The latter looked down confusedly. - -"You know, Mandt, I cannot be deceived easily. Let us have the -truth now, and only the truth. Do you think that Nicholas does -not know how to die?" - -"Sire--" - -"Well?" - -"In forty-eight hours you will be dead or saved." - -"Thank you, Mandt," said Nicholas in a voice of deep emotion. -"Now good-by, and send me my family." - -The doctor prepared to leave the room. - -"Mandt!" called Nicholas, on seeing him direct his steps toward -the door. - -"Sire." - -"Let us embrace each other, my good old friend. We will perhaps -never meet again on earth. You have been an honest and faithful -servant. I will recommend you to my son." - -"What do you say, sire? Never see you again! I sincerely hope the -contrary, and that my attentions--" - -"Your attentions will be superfluous. There will be time for me -only to see my ministers and my priest, and make my peace with -God. Human science can do no more for me, and, indeed, I do not -wish to try it." - -"And now at the close, sire, I revolt," cried the doctor. "I have -no right, and my duty forbids my thus abandoning you." - -"Mandt, do you answer for my cure?" - -The doctor hung his head, and could not reply. - -"Farewell, then, my friend." - -"Sire, if not, then, as your physician, permit me as a devoted -servant to see you again. Who can tell? God is great! and for the -destiny of the Russia which he protects, may work a miracle." - -"And because I know that God protects Russia, so neither do I -wish nor hope for my restoration to health. Mandt, let my family -come now. I assure you the time will soon fail me." - -Mandt wept. With tears in his eyes, he went out and related to -the courtiers his conversation with the emperor. Strange -contradiction! This man, whom I have tried to depict as so severe -and haughty, was adored by all who approached him. Courtiers, -soldiers, servants, burst into tears. Lost in the crowd with -them, I mingled my complaints and prayers. - -Then, after the empress and the grand hereditary duke, the -imperial family, all in tears, entered the apartment of the -emperor. The door closed upon them, and all that passed there, -all that was said in this supreme grief, only God knew. Mandt, -however, with a voice choked with emotion, continued his recital, -and we listened to him with the keenest attention. How and by -what indiscretion the news he had just given us was spread in the -city, I cannot tell; but already, before the death of the czar, -it was believed at St. Petersburg that Mandt had helped to poison -him. From this to the pretended act itself there was but one step -toward belief, and this was soon overcome; so the exasperation, -true or false, against the honest doctor, knew no bounds, and -they would have torn him to pieces in the streets. The name of -Nicholas still inspired such terror that every one endeavored to -give some public demonstration of grief as a claim on his -benevolence in the event of his returning to life. Yet after his -death these manifestations changed their character, and the -contrast between such marks of affection and the epithets with -which they loaded his memory when they were certain he really -ceased to exist, was a lesson for kings to contemplate. -{699} -For the time, though, the anger of the people against the poor -doctor was so blindly furious, that it is related of a thief, -seized by the collar by a passerby, from whom he had tried to -steal his watch, that in order to escape, he raised the cry, -"Hist! hist! it's Mandt, comrades, it's Mandt!" - -The interview between the emperor and his family lasted three -hours, three long hours, during which expectation for us was -changed into real anguish. By degrees retired, one by one, the -children, the grand-children, and his brothers. The grand -hereditary duke came out last, bathed in tears. An hour flew by, -and not a sound was heard from the imperial chamber; no one dared -enter. Mandt listened attentively, holding his breath. Suddenly a -loud noise was heard in the corridors; a courier from Sebastopol -arrived. As the whole court knew the impatience with which the -emperor awaited the news from the Crimea, the aide-de-camp -general on duty, thinking to please the emperor, knocked at his -door. - -"Do they still want me?" murmured the emperor; "tell them to let -me rest." - -"Sire, a courier from Sebastopol." - -"Let him address himself to my son; this concerns me no longer." - -Soon the primate, followed by the clergy, arrived to offer the -last consolations of the church. Then the ministers were -presented, the Count Orlof at their head. This lasted during the -night. At ten o'clock, the emperor asked for the officers of his -household. His face already bore the impress of death; a -cadaverous paleness betrayed the progress of the decomposition -that preceded the fatal moment; lying on his camp-bed, he -addressed us some farewell words, which the first strokes of -death-rattle interrupted, and took leave of us with a waive of -his hand. None of us slept that night in the Winter Palace, none -of us after that hour ever saw the emperor alive. - -The next day, the 18th of February, at mid-day, the grand -chamberlain of the palace was sent for by the physicians to the -imperial bed. At half-past twelve o'clock, returning among us, -"Nicholas Paulowitch is dead," said he. - -We went out silent and sad. - -The next day, on the walls of St. Petersburg could be read this -inscription: "Russia, grateful to the Emperor Nicholas I. for the -18th of February, 1855." - --------- - -{700} - - - Translated From The French - Of The Pere Landriot-- - Addressed To Women Of The World. - - - Household Duties. - - - "She giveth meat to her household, - and a portion to her maidens.' - - -We finished the question, vulgar perhaps in one sense, yet so -important in many others, of sleep: [Footnote 211] a benefit of -divine Providence accorded us each day to repair our strength, -renew our life, and provide for the weakness and precipitation of -man; a time for repose and sage counsel. - - [Footnote 211: See "_Early Rising_" in _The Catholic - World_ for September, 1867.] - -Sleep is a precious dictate, a solitary bath for body and soul, -and a prudent counsellor and daily preacher to remind us of our -approaching and last departure. But like all good things, sleep -is subject to abuse, and then it produces effects entirely -contrary to the will of the Creator: weakening, stupefying, and -dulling the faculties, it becomes for humanity a living -sepulchre. If the abuse of sleep coincides with the quality, that -is to say, if the hours by nature destined to it are considerably -changed--night turned into day, and day into night--the -constitution is assuredly ruined, and an infirm old age prepared, -a never-ceasing convalescence. Parties and midnight revels have -killed more women than the most exaggerated mortifications and if -religion commanded the sacrifice the world requires of its -votaries, the recriminations against it would be unending. In a -hygienic light, physical as well as moral, it is better to retire -and rise early. Everything gains by it--health, business, and the -facility and excellence of prayer. But we must not dissimulate; -and the struggle with the pillow is, in its very sweetness, one -of the most violent that can exercise man's courage; and to break -these _chains of bed_, it is necessary to exercise an almost -superhuman energy. The enemy is deceitful, dangerous in his -caresses, and generally ends in persuading us; we think he is -right; and, after all, it is a cruelty to martyrize ourselves. I -have not wished, ladies, to conceal the difficulties; but I have -pleaded my cause, which is also yours. To your wisdom and reason -I submit it, and I trust to succeed at such a tribunal. If you -wish to appeal, and present the cause before the tribunal of -Idleness, listening to its numerous lawyers, in advance I may -tell you the first judgment will be suspended. Well, I will -consent to lose, but on one condition--that you will insert this -explanation in the judgment: that the case was gained before -Judge Reason; but that, in the supreme court of Indolence, -Idleness, surrounded by his lawyers, revoked the decision. - -Now for the end of our text: "_The strong woman giveth meat to -her household, and a portion to her maidens_." - -Formerly, ladies, when families and societies were truly -Christian, the domestics, according to the etymology of the word, -were really a part of the house; for _domestic_ comes from -the Latin word _domus_, which signifies house. In those -days, a family formed a body; the father and mother were head, -and the domestics themselves had their place in the organization -of the family; they were only subordinate members, but they were -a part of the body. -{701} -Therefore, they always lived in the house, passed their lives -there; and when they were no longer able to work, they were cared -for with paternal and filial affection; and when the hour of -death came to them by length of time, they had fallen into decay -as a branch dying on its trunk. The relations of benevolence and -Christian charity united masters to servants; and while the -latter accepted the place of inferiority, they felt themselves -loved, and loving in return, a tie was formed stronger than -massive gold--the tie of love. Saint Augustine speaks to us with -much feeling of the nurse who cared for his mother's infancy, and -who had even carried on her back the father of St. Monica, as -young girls then carried little children: "_Sicut dorso -grandiuscularum puellarum parvuli portari solent._" [Footnote -212] - - [Footnote 212: _Confessions_, i. 9, c 8.] - -"This remembrance," continued St. Augustine, "her old age, the -excellence of her manners, assured her in a Christian house the -veneration of her masters, who had committed to her the care of -their daughters; her zeal responded to their confidence; and -while she exercised a saintly firmness to correct them--to -instruct, she was always guided by an admirable prudence." - -Nowadays, ladies, things have changed. Such examples are rare; -but without doubt, there are still honorable exceptions--servants -who love their masters, and who make part of the family as true -children of the house, serving with ease and gentleness, because -they are guided principally by affection, and bearing the faults -of their masters, who, in return, are patient with them, until -household affairs glide on with a smoothness which, though -sometimes very imperfect, is, after all, a small evil. Yes, we do -still find Christian families where domesticity is thus -understood; but alas! they become rarer every day! In our time, -owing to a spirit of pride, independence and irreligion are -spreading everywhere; good servants are hard to find, and perhaps -also good masters; and as two fireplaces placed opposite each -other are mutually overheated, so the bad qualities of the -domestics increase those of the masters, and _vice versâ_. -Servants have exaggerated pretensions; they will not bear the -least reproof; everything wounds them; and on the other side, -masters do not command in a Christian spirit. Thus, everywhere is -heard a general concert of complaint and recrimination; masters -accuse their servants, servants do as little as possible for -their masters; and certain houses become like omnibuses, where -the servants enter only to get out again at their convenience. - -I have told you, ladies, that, if I had to preach to your -husbands, I could add a kind of counterpart, not adverse to your -interests, but to complete my instructions; but, addressing -myself to you, my words must be limited to your duties. I would -add here, also, that, if I had to preach to your servants, I -would be obliged to give them advice very useful for your -household organization; but they are absent; my instruction is to -you; so I must leave in shadow all their shortcomings. - -It appears to me your duties to them will be well accomplished if -you enter into the spirit of this text: "She riseth while it is -yet night, and giveth meat to her household, and a portion to her -maidens." Look at the sun; it rises on the horizon, and, in -shedding its beams, seems to distribute work to every creature, -and, by way of recompense, prepares their nourishment in advance. -Is it not he who, while lighting the world, invites the artisan -to his shop, the laborer to his field, and the pilot to leave his -port? -{702} -Is it not he who prepares the germs in the bosom of the -earth--who warms them, and conducts them to that point of -maturity that the statesman waits for as impatiently as the -laborer? "Woman," says the Scripture, "should be the sun of her -household." She should lighten and warm like the planet of the -day. Her rays are emitted in indicating to each one his duties, -in distributing the work in wise and suitable proportions, and, -when all is justly ordered, superintending its execution. Then -everything goes on admirably, because brightened by the spirit of -regularity that guides the mistress of the house. Her glance, -given to all around her, projects the light; and this light is -the strongest and most insinuating of counsellors, as well as a -gracious but severe monitor. A woman who presides well over her -household need talk but little; her presence speaks for her, and -the simple conviction that she has her eyes everywhere, and that -the least detail is not unknown to her, prevents any -irregularity. But see, on the contrary, a house where the -mistress rises late, and sleeps morally the rest of the day. -Everything is left to chance; disorder introduces itself -everywhere, in heads as in business; a general pell-mell of ideas -and objects--a confusion which recalls the primitive chaos. Madam -sleeps late, the servants rise only a little earlier; during the -day, madam dreams, occupies herself with her toilet, in matinees, -and visits, and the house, given up to itself, becomes what it -may. The children are almost abandoned, and work accumulates in -the most delightful disorder. - -Woman, the sun of her house, should not be satisfied to -illuminate it; she should warm it also, and with her heart. - -You ought, ladies, to watch your servants, demand an account of -their proceedings in-doors and out, watch over them particularly -in their connection with your children; for too often the heart -and mind are lost by servants, and, were it permitted to reveal -all the human heart can tell us in this respect, you would be -seriously alarmed. - -About twenty years ago, I had charge of a seminary. One day I -received a visit from a very indignant father, who told me with -bitterness that his child had been corrupted in our -establishment. I knew to the contrary; but I had no defence to -offer, so in silence I bore an unmerited reproach. Some time -afterward I had permission to speak, when I was able to prove to -him that it was in his own house that his child was lost, by -keeping company with a servant. - -Watch, then, your children, ladies, by watching your servants. -Watch their going out and coming in, their bearing and their -company; watch their words and actions. But, I beg of you, watch -with kindness, for the light of your supervision should be warm -with Christian affection. Love your servants, and always remember -that they are human--the image of God, and that they have been -bought by the blood of Jesus Christ. As much as possible, speak -to them with kindness, and, if an occasional impatience escapes -you, endeavor to repair it by sincere benevolence. That your -watchfulness may not engender suspicion and restlessness, do not -appear a spy on their actions. We often make people good by -believing them so, and bad by accusing them of qualities they do -not possess; or, at least, we freeze their hearts, and -permanently harden them. Avoid everything which appears like -ill-humor, meanness, or caprice. -{703} -To-day madam is in a good humor, and all goes well; the servants -may be as merry, and make as many mistakes as they please; nobody -notices them. To-morrow the moon reddens in its first quarter: -woe to the inhabitants of the house! woe to the servants! Madam's -coffee is cold, yet it bears its ordinary temperature; the soup -is too salty, yet the usual quantity was put into it. The room is -full of smoke, it was the servant's fault, and yet the poor -creature made neither the wind nor the chimney. A racket in the -kitchen; madam's voice is heard from the cellar to the garret-- -from the court-yard to the neighboring houses. Nothing renders -authority more ridiculous than such conduct. The servants are -tired out; they lose every sentiment of affection and confidence, -because they see no regard is shown them; that they are -considered inferior beings, entitled to no respect; and that, -even on days when caprice is not predominant, they only encounter -airs of silent pride and haughtiness. - -Without doubt, ladies, there is a just medium to be preserved. -Many servants are unreasonable, and take advantage of favors -accorded them; are exacting and indiscreet; they require masters -without faults, and are completely blinded to their own. "Treat -them as friends," said an ancient philosopher, "and they lack -submission; keep them at a distance, and they resent your conduct -and hate you." [Footnote 213] - - [Footnote 213: Confucius, _Entr. Philos_. c. 17.] - -The middle course of wisdom is therefore hard to find; but it is -so in all worldly affairs, yet it is necessary to resolve it. The -heart of a Christian woman appears to me best adapted for this -work of conciliation; she can preserve her authority by -demonstrating a wise firmness, recalling the words of Fenelon: -"The less reason you find in men, the more fear requisite to -restrain them." [Footnote 214] The strong woman must be able to -cope with such difficult minds, often so pretentious and -ridiculous in their exactions, and put them in their place when -wisdom and occasion demand it. But, in her ordinary conduct, let -her remember that she commands her brethren, for whom our Lord -died; that love and gentleness are the best, the most Christian -roads to persuasion, and that severity should always be reserved -for circumstances where reason and charity fail. - - [Footnote 214: _De l'Education des Filles_, c. 12.] - -Fenelon says again that, in certain houses, "servants are -considered no better than horses--of natures like theirs--human -beasts of burden for their masters." [Footnote 215] Nothing can -be more opposed to sentiments of faith and reason; servants are -brothers, to be loved and treated as such; they owe you their -service and fidelity, and if they fail, recall them to duty -prudently, with a charitable compassion and firmness that does -not exclude affection. A single word will often dispel a cloud -and dissipate increasing shadows, and give you, in return, the -deep and solid friendship of your servants. Is this not far -better than forced relations, coldness and constraint that freeze -the heart and poison innumerable lives? The fable itself teaches -us a lesson in telling us that the friendship of the ant is not -to be despised. - - [Footnote 215: _Ibid_.] - -"The strong woman giveth meat to her household, and a portion to -her maidens." The spirit of God neglects no detail, because in -life everything is important. Let your servants work; nothing is -better for them; but do not traffic with either their food or -duties. -{704} -Treat them a little like the children of the house; you will not -only interest your charity, but your service will gain by it. Do -not calculate with an avaricious hand what may do them good and -alleviate their lot. You will gain on one side what you lose on -the other; and besides, is not the true affection of a devoted -heart worth more than a piece of gold? It is not only food and -material comforts you must assure your servants. How I love to -see the Christian woman enlarge her maternal heart and reserve in -it not only a place for her children, but for all the people of -her household! Yes, she must have a mother's affection for all, -and let the least one understand that he has part in the warmth -of her soul and the fireside of her heart. Thus she realizes the -comparison that I always love to repeat, because she is truly -great in her splendor and simplicity, and, in proportion as she -is examined, new aspects are discovered; then the strong woman is -the sun of her household: _sicut sol oriens_. - -The planet of day sheds its light on the clouds, the high -mountains, and the gilded palaces, but he never omits the little -valley flower or the blade of grass that claims his warmth. He -does not give it so abundantly as to the oaks of the mountain, -but it is always the same light, and suffices for their life and -happiness. Thus the strong woman pours her intimate affections on -her family and her true friends, but her soul has still a reserve -for her servants. She gives them less than her husband and -children, but it is all from the same source, and bears with it -for them the same unction. - -After such a distribution of work, of care and affection, do not -expect to find no faults in your servants. To these servants, I -would say: Bear with the faults of your masters and mistresses; -the best of them are imperfect, and for you the true way to -modify their defects is to reply only by patience and an -immovable docility; sweetness and patience do much more than -anger and violent recrimination, as various elastic substances -are, we know, among the best agents to arrest the impetuous -movement of the cannon-ball. To you, ladies, I say: Bear with the -faults of your servants, as they are never wanting. With two such -sureties, with the certainty of patience on the part of the -servants, and in return on that of the masters, you will be sure -to pacifically organize the interior of your households. If the -tether of patience is short at one end, you can stretch it at the -other; and such is the admirable teaching of Christianity, -wherever the relations of mankind exist, it establishes -reciprocal duties on so firm and solid a foundation that, if one -is lacking, the other becomes more strong to resist it. Thus it -preaches to the husband love and respect; to the wife, love, -respect, and submission; to masters, benevolence; to servants, -deference and patience; but in such a way that, if the first are -faithless to their duties, the fidelity of the second will more -than repair the defect. Nature evidently holds another language; -if our neighbor fails in his obligations, we believe ourselves -freed from ours, and this spirit of free exchange in point of bad -proceedings is not, perhaps, one of the least causes of our -perturbations in the family and society. - -"There are some faults," says Fenelon, "that enter into the -marrow of the bones." "Then," said the Archbishop of Cambrai, "if -you wish to correct such in your servant, he is not wrong to -resist correction, but you are foolish to undertake it." -[Footnote 216] - - [Footnote 216: _Lettres Spirituelles_, - 193, t. 1. p. 554, éd. Didiot.] - -{705} - -You have a horse that is one-eyed, you would wish him to see -clearly with both eyes; it is you who are entirely blind. Alas -ladies! in this world we are all slightly one-eyed, therefore we -must bear with each other. - -You have a servant who does not always display the judgment you -require of him; tell me, why do you employ him in any delicate -business? He has made a blunder, but were you not the first cause -of it? You have another who never sees more than a few steps -before him; you cannot expect better of him, he is short-sighted. -You are angry because he cannot see leagues off; you are the -unreasonable one. Another one is lame, and him you would have -walk straight; do you not see that you exact the impossible? I -tell you, ladies, that poor human nature is full of weaknesses, -and having once perceived certain infirmities in your neighbor, -keep them in remembrance, and don't demand a reform in what -cannot be corrected. "Bear ye one another's burdens," said Saint -Paul; it is the rule of true wisdom, of peace and domestic -happiness: "_Alter alterius onera portate_." [Footnote 217] - - [Footnote 217: Galat. vi. 2.] - -But, you say, he is thick-headed, I cannot put up with him. Alas! -thick heads we meet with everywhere. Have you not yourselves -sometimes the same complaint? Besides, don't be so hard to please -in servants; you may end by finding none at all. You have one who -pouts, another who is violent; you may have one impertinent, -another pettish; choose between them. The best course, believe -me, is to put up with the evil, provided it is bearable. This -world and all it contains is only one grand misery; accept your -share of it; murmuring and changing those who surround you will -do no good. - -Well and good, I hear you say. You have just spoken of those who -keep many servants; I am more modest; a nurse, or at most a cook, -constitutes my household. In this case, if you will permit me, I -will find you an establishment where the retainers are numerous -and very difficult to govern. The fathers of the church teach us -that the human soul, in its organization, is a house complete in -itself. We find in it intelligence, the soul properly called, the -imagination, and the senses. Intelligence is the husband, the -soul the wife; and imagination, with its numerous caprices, -represents an establishment of troublesome servants; while the -five senses may portray five grooms at the carriage-ways opening -into the street. To listen to such a world as this, and make it -agree, is no easy matter. Intelligence wishes one thing, the soul -another; the husband and wife are just ready to quarrel. Then -imagination comes in with its thousand phantoms, its fantastical -noises, its clatter by night and by day: can you not believe your -household in good condition to exercise your patience? Then the -porters of this castle, the eyes, the ears, without considering -the nerves--a sort of busy battalion which makes more noise than -all the rest. What an interior! what confusion! what a tower of -Babel! Ladies, I will repeat here the words of Scripture: "Rise -early to give work and a portion" to this establishment of -servants; put them in order from the first dawn of day. Clear up -your imagination; it needs more time and care than a disordered -head of hair. See how your ideas fly hither and thither; how the -mad one of this dwelling sings and grows impertinent; how she -reasons, how she scolds, and how absurd she is. Intelligence -would restore her reason; useless to try! time lost! -{706} -She cries louder, and becomes longer and more violently -nonsensical. She makes so much noise that it could be called, -according to Saint Gregory, the multiplied voices of several -servants, whose tongues are perfectly sharpened: "_Cogitationum -se clamor, velut garrula ancillarum turba, multiplicat_." -[Footnote 218] - - [Footnote 218: _Moral_, i. I, c. 30, t 1. p. 546, éd, - Migné.] - -Here is a beautiful household to organize every morning. You -complain of having no work for it. I have just found you some. -Bring peace into the midst of this distraction; substitute -harmony for confusion, and so adjust this harmony that it shall -last undisturbed until evening, and I will give you a brevet, a -certificate, as an excellent mistress of a house. Formerly, the -poor human head was not subject to such distraction; and why? -Because it was subject to God; and from thence all the powers of -man, mind, heart, will, imagination, senses, all were submitted -to the head of the house, because this head himself was obedient -to God. Since the primitive revolt, all has been upset in man; -and our poor nature has become like a house where all dispute, -husband, wife, and servants, that is, mind, heart, imagination. -There is a simple way to re-establish peace, not quite complete, -but at least tolerable, for this would bring back God into the -house: let God be head, the commander of all; let the thought of -him preside everywhere, and soon order will be entirely restored. -In the morning especially, I know nothing that can pacify us -interiorly and calm all around us better than a look toward -heaven, a thought of love directed on high, and bringing, in -return, the peace of God. In the morning, if the head aches, rest -it at the foot of the cross; if the heart suffers, place it on -the heart of our Lord; if the imagination is feverish, calm it -with a drop of the blood of Jesus Christ; and if the whole being -is in ebullition, ask God to send it refreshment in the dew of -heaven! Be faithful to these recommendations, ladies, and you may -repose the length of the day under your vine and your fig-tree; -that is, you will enjoy the intimate happiness that God has -promised his friends, and which is one of the sweetest -recompenses of virtue: "_Et sedit unusquisque sub vite suâ, et -ficulneâ, suâ, et non erat qui eos terreret_." [Footnote 219] - - [Footnote 219: I Mach. xiv. 12.] - -------------- - -{707} - - - A Sister's Story. [Footnote 220] - - [Footnote 220: _A Sister's Story_. By Mrs. Augustus - Craven. Translated from the French by Emily Bowles. 8vo, pp. - 539. New York: The Catholic Publication Society.] - -We do not usually go to France for pictures of domestic life; -yet, when we do find a cultivated French family penetrated with -the home instincts which are so much more common on the opposite -side of the channel, and lavishing upon the members of their own -household an affection elevated and sanctified by true piety, -there is a charm about the scene which is apt to be wanting in -our own more commonplace experience. The charm, to be sure, often -asserts itself too boldly; for the Frenchman has a keen relish -for sentiment, and in nine cases out of ten the rapture with -which love fills his heart is only half of it inspired by the -object of his passion, while the other half is an unconscious -admiration of the delicacy of his own feelings. He makes a -romance out of love for his father and mother, and his affection -for his sweetheart is an extravagant poem. Still, unless you -analyze it too closely, which there is no need of your doing at -all, the poem is almost always beautiful and delicate, and -sometimes possesses the true poetical aroma. _A Sister's -Story_ is a romance of love, trial, happiness, and death. -Nobody but a French woman could have written it; yet the -sentiment is not what is commonly called "Frenchy," because it is -etherealized by a genuine Christian refinement, and because, -moreover, it is a true history. - -The Count de la Ferronnays, who was French ambassador at St. -Petersburg in 1819, and afterward at Rome, had a large family of -children, one of whom, Pauline, married an English gentleman, and -is the author of this book. Another, Albert, is the hero. They -all loved one another with a rare and touching tenderness, and -loved God, too, with a simple and unaffected devotion. The -revolution of 1830 deprived the Count of his diplomatic -appointment, despoiled him of most of his fortune, and, as he was -a stanch adherent of the Bourbons, left him without hope of a -future career in the service of the state. The family seem, -however, to have accepted their reverses cheerfully, and to have -made little change in their way of life, except by practising a -stricter economy than they had been used to. They passed most of -their time in Italy, mingling with people of rank and -distinction, or travelling in search of health, as one or another -of them showed symptoms of approaching disease. Albert was a -young man of handsome appearance, and, we should judge, of no -mean accomplishments. He was warm-hearted, remarkably sensitive, -somewhat of a dreamer, romantic, poetical, and pure in heart. The -life of a man of society he sanctified with the piety of a -recluse. The revolution which cut short his father's public -career destroyed also the young man's prospects in life, and left -him, just entering manhood, without fixed occupation, and without -much hope of obtaining employment suitable to his rank and -tastes. This enforced idleness, coupled with the delicacy of his -constitution, already perhaps undermined by the pulmonary disease -which was so soon to carry him off, predisposed him to a -melancholy reflectiveness which, though corrected by his devout -aspirations, was nevertheless morbid. -{708} -The feminine delicacy of his nature was developed by close -intimacy with his sisters, and his religious elevation was -doubtless heightened by his frequent intercourse with -Montalembert, whose sentiments he fully shared, though he was -unable to join in his labors, with M. Rio, whom he accompanied to -various parts of Italy, with the Abbé Gerbet, and with other -distinguished Catholics of that brilliant day. - -Among the acquaintances of the Count's family in Rome was the -Countess d'Alopeus, widow of the celebrated Russian -plenipotentiary at Berlin, and afterward wife of Prince -Lapoukhyn. She had a daughter, Alexandrine, a beautiful and -amiable girl, apparently, like Albert, of a pensive turn of mind, -and, though a Lutheran, (her mother being a German,) of a -strongly religious disposition. Albert fell in love with her the -first time they met, and from that time love and religion filled -up all the rest of his short life. It was but a little while -before Alexandrine learned to return the tender sentiment. The -intimacy ripened fast; but there were many difficulties in the -way of marriage, and it was only after two years, marked by -severe trials, that they were at last united in 1834. Ten days -afterward Albert burst a blood-vessel, and from that time until -his death, in 1836, their happiness was clouded by the gradual -approach of the untimely fate which they could hardly help -foreseeing. The picture which Mrs. Craven, with the help of the -journals and letters of this dear young couple, has drawn of -their courtship, their love, their few hours of happiness, and -their admirable married life, with all its consolations and all -its sufferings, is full of the most delicious beauty. It could -not have been so natural, had it not been drawn from the life; it -would not have been so exquisite, had not the artist been herself -a poet. - -By the side of her husband's dying bed, Alexandrine was received -into the Catholic Church. She appears to have possessed a -stronger though not a more lovely character than Albert, and in -her widowhood its magnificence was fully developed. During the -twelve years she survived her husband, she learned to the full -the great lessons of self-abnegation, humility, and detachment -from all worldly things. Even in the first days of her sorrow, -God rewarded her with a strength which surprised all who knew -her; and this was succeeded after a while by a completeness of -resignation and a spiritual joy which were no less than -saint-like. "We shall see," writes Mrs. Craven, in beginning the -narrative of these final years, "by what efforts of resignation, -by what self-surrender, she obtained peace, and entered upon that -other period of her life which she speaks of in her story, and of -which she once said, 'Even before old age and death, faith gave -me rest!' This rest, which went beyond resignation, even beyond -peace, which Alexandrine had soon recovered; a rest which marked -the latter part of her life by a joyousness unknown to her young -days, she did not attain till she had gone through many fresh -sorrows. It was God's will that she should outlive most of those -who had proved her firmest friends and most tender comforters in -her widowhood. Almost at one time she lost her own brother, my -father, Eugénie, and Olga," (Albert's sisters, to whom she was -deeply attached.) "It may be that this was allowed that, when -after such repeated blows she was still able to say she was -happy, no one might mistake the source whence that happiness -sprang." -{709} -She gave herself up to the service of the poor and suffering, and -in order to make herself more like the objects of her charity, -whom she loved so tenderly, she used to deprive herself of all -the little every-day luxuries and conveniences which belonged to -her station, and in which naturally she took a particular -delight. She made trial of a conventual life, but that was -clearly not the path in which God wished her to walk, and her -director bade her leave it. During the latter part of her life -she resided principally with Albert's mother, in Paris. Here is a -picture of her occupations at that time: - - "To meet the deficiency in her resources, she gradually - restricted her own expenditure to the narrowest compass, and - deprived herself of everything short of absolute necessaries. - One day I happened to look into her wardrobe, and was dismayed - at its scantiness. When we, any of us, made this kind of - discovery, she blushed and smiled, made the best excuses she - could find in return for our scoldings, and then went on just - the same, giving away all she possessed, and finding every day - new occasions for these acts of self-spoliation. She had, of - course, long ago sold or given away all her jewels and - trinkets, but, if she ever happened to find among her things an - article of the smallest value, it was immediately disposed of - for the benefit of the poor. For instance, one day she took out - of its frame a beautiful miniature of Princess Lapoukhyn at the - age of twenty, and sold the gold and enamel frame, defending - herself by saying that it was the only thing of value she still - possessed, and did not in the least enhance the value of her - mother's charming likeness. Two black gowns, and a barely - sufficient amount of linen, constituted her whole wardrobe, so - that she had reduced herself, as far as was possible in her - position of life, to a state of actual poverty. Her long - errands were almost always performed on foot, and at - dinner-time she came home often covered with dirt and wet to - the skin. One day, when she was visiting some Sisters of - Charity in a distant part of Paris, one of them looked at her - from head to foot, and then begged an alms for a poor woman - much in need of a pair of shoes. Alexandrine instantly produced - her purse and gave the required amount, with which the sister - went away, and in a quarter of an hour returned, laughing, and - bringing with her a pair of shoes, which she insisted on Madame - Albert's putting on instead of those she was wearing, which - were certainly in the worst possible condition. On her return - from these distant excursions, she usually put on her evening - dress and came down to Madame de Mun's drawing-room, where she - found my mother, who also had often been engaged in similar - charitable duties. During that winter I often joined this - little circle, now so thinned by death, and so soon to break up - altogether. For one brief moment I would fain pause and look - back in thought to that well-remembered room and its long - table, at which my mother and Madame de Mun were wont to sit, - with Eugénie's children playing at their feet; and at the place - near the lamp, where Alexandrine was to be seen every evening, - with her head bending over her work; her brown hair divided - into two long plaits, a way of wearing it which particularly - became her, though it was certainly not chosen on that account. - She did not, however, profess to be free from all thought about - her appearance; on the contrary, she was always accusing - herself of still caring for admiration; and when once she heard - that somebody who had accidentally spoken to her had said she - was pretty, she exclaimed with half-jesting indignation: 'I - really believe that, if I were in my last agony, that would - please me still!' Very pretty certainly she looked on those - evenings, in her simple black dress; always calm and serene, - and brightening up whenever the great interests and objects of - life were the subjects of conversation. Otherwise she remained - silent, occupying herself with her embroidery, or else, taking - her little book of extracts, so full of beautiful thoughts, - from her pocket, she read them over and added new ones from her - favorite books. - - ...... - - "Time never hung heavy on Alexandrine's hands. After such - trials and sufferings, she could say as Madame Swetchine did: - 'that life was lovely and happy; and ever, as it went on, - fairer, happier, and more interesting.' The melancholy which - was natural to her character in youth, and which the radiant - happiness that for a moment filled up her life had not been - able to overcome--that melancholy which was the sign perhaps of - some kind of softness of soul, and which so many deaths and - such floods of tears could naturally have increased--had been - completely put down and overcome by the love of God and the - poor. -{710} - One day as I saw her moving about her room which she had made - so bare, with an air of the greatest gayety, we both of us - suddenly recalled the terrible days of the past, when her grief - had been full of gloom, and then she said, what was very - striking to any one who knew how deep was her unutterable love - to the very last, 'Yes, that is all true; those were cruel and - dreadful days; but now, by God's grace, _I mourn for my - Albert gayly_.'" - -Subsequently she was admitted, as a lodger, to the convent of St. -Thomas of Villanova, in Paris, and there she died with the -peacefulness and holy joy which she had merited by her life. By -what austerities she had prepared for and probably hastened her -end, we may judge from this incident: - - "One morning at Mass in the convent chapel, a lady happened to - hear her cough, and noticing her pale looks and poor apparel, - she went to one of the sisters, and told her that there was a - lady in the church who was probably too poor to provide herself - with necessaries, and that she should be very happy to supply - her with milk daily, if she had not the means to purchase it. - This kind soul was quite ashamed when the sister told her the - poor lady was Madame Albert de la Ferronnays; but Alexandrine, - much amused, laughed exceedingly at the mistake, and did not - treat herself better than before." - -One loving hand which has traced this beautiful story whose -outlines we have thus roughly reproduced, has illustrated it with -many touching reminiscences of the other members of the charming -family circle, of which Albert and Alexandrine are the central -figures. There is an exquisite pathos in every page, and - - "The tender grace of a day that is dead" - -is delineated with an unaffected delicacy which must move every -heart. Miss Bowles, we should add, has proved herself an -admirable translator, so good a one that her version reads like -an original. - ----------- - - Translated From The French. - - Breton Legend Of St. Christopher. - - -As every one knows, St. Christopher had very broad shoulders; so -in former times he was ferryman for the river of Scorff. One -bright day, our Lord arrived at the bank of the river with his -twelve apostles. Christopher made haste to take them in his arms, -and was delighted to pay them every possible respect. - -"Well," said our Lord, "what are your wages?" - -"Ask for Paradise," whispered St. Peter. - -"Let me alone, I have my own ideas. If, my Lord, you desire to -bestow a favor on me, promise that every object I wish for shall -be obliged to enter my sack." - -"I will do it," said our Lord, "but on condition that you never -ask for money, and only for those things of which you have need." - -So, for a long time, things went well; the sack filled only with -bread, fruits, beans, and other vegetables; and often it was -emptied for the benefit of the poor. But alas! who can say they -may not enter into temptation? One morning Christopher was -passing through the street of a neighboring town, when he stopped -before the shop of a money-changer. -{711} -He did wrong, for all those heaps of money excited his curiosity -and gave him very bad thoughts. - -"See," said the wicked broker to him, "what you can do with all -this money! You can rebuild the huts of the poor, and make life -for them so happy and desirable. Don't you wish it was all -yours?" - -Christopher had a moment of weakness, and the money jumped into -his bag. But don't be severe: Christopher was not yet the saint -he afterward became, only a mere mortal man. So this first -failing led to others, and while it must be confessed he was very -generous to the poor, he loved his own good cheer and did not -hesitate to enjoy it. So one day, as he was reposing on the grass -after an unusually good dinner, the devil passed that way, and -began to bully him and crack some of his disagreeable jokes. -Christopher was not remarkably patient, his fists were itching -for a fight, so in a moment he was on his feet and pitched into -the devil right royally. As the forces were pretty equal, the -battle lasted two days, and the end could not be foreseen. The -thick grass disappeared from under their feet, and from afar the -noise of the blows resounded like two hammers falling and -refalling one upon the other. They would have been at it yet if -Christopher had not happily thought of his sack. "Ah cursed -devil! by the virtue of our Lord thou shalt enter my sack." So in -he popped, and Christopher was not slow to draw the cords tight -and swing him over his shoulders, while he wondered at the same -time how in the world he would ever get rid of him. A forge -appeared as he walked, and two brawny men were beating the red -fire with tremendous blows. This gave him an idea; so he -addressed himself to the smiths, and said: "I have got a wicked -animal in my bag; I could not pretend to tell you all the -villanous tricks he has played in his life; so, if you will forge -him until he is about as thick as a sixpenny piece, I will give -you a crown." They consented; and, notwithstanding the cries and -somersaults of the devil, they hammered and beat him the whole -night long. When the day dawned, a weak voice cried out, -"Christopher, Christopher, I give up; what shall I do to get out -of this?" - -"Swear obedience to me for ever, and never trouble me again." - -"I swear it." - -"Very well; get out with you, and I will not say _Au -revoir_." - -From this moment, Christopher entirely changed his life, only -occupied himself in good works, and, when he grew too feeble to -be ferryman for the river Scorff, he retired into the little -hermitage, upon the ruins of which is built the chapel still to -be seen. There he lived in prayer and penitence, and was visited -by many pilgrims, who were attracted by his great reputation of -sanctity. However, when after his death he presented himself to -St. Peter, who, we know, holds the keys of Paradise, he was -refused admittance, because the latter said he had formerly -rejected his advice, and he feared to let him in. - -The poor Christopher, very sad, and looking rather snubbed, -wandered about, and in his distraction took the stairs that led -to hell. He descended an unheard-of number of steps, and finally -arrived at a door, where was a very good-looking young man, who -courteously invited him to enter; but Satan happened to pass by, -and, seeing him, cried out nervously: "No, no! not in here; I -know him well. Send him away, he is entirely too cunning for me!" - -{712} - -So Christopher could do nothing but remount to the entrance of -Paradise, where he could at least listen outside to the delicious -strains of heavenly harmony issuing from within, and he felt more -and more desirous to be admitted. He paused and thought; then, -putting his ear as close as possible, "My Lord St. Peter," said -he, "what admirable harmony you have in there! If you would only -set the door ajar, I might at least hear and enjoy it." - -St. Peter was kind-hearted, so he did as he was asked; and -instantly St. Christopher threw in his sack, and sprang in after -it. "At home, at last," said he, "and you can't turn me out." St. -Peter conceded he was right, so he has since remained in heaven, -and we must acknowledge he well deserved so comfortable an abode. - -------------- - - [Supplement to the article on "The Sanitary and - Moral Condition of New York City" in our July number.] - - - The Sanitary And Moral Condition Of New York City. - - -The letter which is published below is an evidence that our July -correspondent's observations on the neglected condition of a -great number of children in New York struck a telling blow in the -right direction, and has called forth one response of the right -kind, which, we trust, will not be the only one. A number of our -good friends have shown themselves to be somewhat hurt by the -remarks made in the article alluded to, on the efforts of certain -Protestant institutions among the vagrant children of this city. -The article was not written for the purpose of showing what the -small number of zealous Catholics--who are alive to the duty and -necessity of rescuing this unfortunate class of our own -children--are doing, but of working up the whole Catholic -community to an active co-operation with these pioneers of -charity, in undertaking that which they are not doing, and cannot -do, while they are so feebly sustained. One principal motive for -doing this is, the fact that sectarian philanthropists are -forestalling us in the work we ought to have attended to long -ago, and drawing away from the fold of the church the lambs we -have neglected to take care of. Every one knows, none better than -the leaders of every Protestant sect themselves, that they have -no more determined adversaries than we are in their aggressions -on the Catholic religion. At the same time, we do not feel called -upon to deny them all humane and philanthropic motives, or to -denounce them as actuated by mere hatred against the Catholic -religion. They do an irreparable mischief to the unfortunate -children whom they draw away from the fold of the church; yet, we -are willing to believe they do it ignorantly, and with an -intention of doing them good. -{713} -So far as their efforts among the young unbaptized heathen of New -York are concerned, they can undoubtedly effect something in -reclaiming them from the wretched condition in which they are. We -desire to confine them to that sphere, and wish them a fair field -to compete with us in, and to show what they are able to -accomplish. We hope, as the result of all philanthropic efforts -for the relief of the degraded classes made by all kinds of -institutions, and by individuals of all kinds of theoretical -opinions, that the superiority of the Catholic Church, and its -necessity to our moral and social well-being, will be -demonstrated. We must demonstrate it, however, by action, and not -by mere argument. We must show practically that we are able to -master and subdue the elements of vice and misery that rage over -the turbulent sea of this vast population. In a former volume of -our magazine, we did full justice to the work which the Catholic -Church has accomplished, and is still carrying on among our own -people in this city, in an article entitled "Religion in New -York." The article in our last number may appear to have too much -overlooked the statistics there given respecting the care of -Catholic children. The statement of the whole number of children -in the city was inadvertently cited from Dr. Harris as being the -number of vagrants, although the correct number (40,000) was -given in several other places. Another quotation from a -Protestant source, which was cited for the purpose of showing the -small proportion of children in Protestant Sunday-schools, -contains a statement that 125,000 children are without -instruction, which also inadvertently passed uncorrected. The -60,000 children in Catholic Sunday-schools, and, we suppose, also -the Jewish children, as well as those who are privately taught at -home, ought to have been deducted. There are said to be 95,000 -children in Protestant Sunday-schools. The whole number of -children is estimated at 200,000. There is, then, a vague neutral -ground between vagrancy and the Sunday-school domain, occupied by -some thousands, more or less--how many, we cannot correctly -estimate. We are immediately concerned only with Catholic -children. It is not possible to figure up precisely the numbers, -every day increasing, of these children, in every stage of -neglected moral and religious education down to the most complete -vagrancy. We know, however, that they are to be counted by -thousands, and would be sufficient by themselves to people a -respectable Southern or Western diocese. We know that -comparatively nothing is doing to reclaim them; and as for any -further practical remarks as to what ought to be done, we give -place for the present to the writer of the letter which follows, -who is sorry for these poor children one thousand dollars. We -trust that her good example will be followed by others, and shall -be happy to receive in trust whatever may be contributed toward -the establishment of an institution such as she recommends, and -of which the Sisters of Charity are ready to assume the charge -whenever the requisite funds are provided.--Ed. C. W. - - "Rev. and Dear Father Hecker: "The article in The Catholic - World, for July, on 'The Sanitary and Moral Condition of New - York City,' has excited in my mind the greatest interest, and, - I may add, self-condemnation. - - "It is true I knew the facts mentioned there before, but never - were they so fully brought home to me as in reading that - article. I could say nothing but '_Mea culpa, mea culpa_.' - -{714} - - Yes, through my fault, and the fault of every Catholic, these - many thousands of little children are left uncared for; except, - indeed, by those who have been more zealous to spread error, - uncertainty, and darkness than we to give them the true bread - of life. Are we indeed the children of the church? Have we ever - listened to these words of our Saviour, 'Inasmuch as ye have - not done it unto these my little ones, ye have not done it unto - me'? God forgive us, and grant that every Catholic, in reading - that article, may be moved to a true contrition. - - "Why cannot the several hundred thousand Catholics in our great - city establish a Central Mission House for these little - neglected ones of the flock? For, of these forty thousand - vagrant and uncared-for children, we cannot doubt that far more - than one half have inherited the Catholic faith. The burden of - supporting this great work of charity should not be borne by - one parish or section of the city, and that the least able to - bear it; but every parish should feel as if this house demanded - its own especial care. And not only every parish in New York - City, but throughout the arch-diocese and the whole country; - for, as the poverty of the Old World finds its first refuge in - our city, so the charity of the New World should be - concentrated here to meet it. - - "Father Farrelly is doing a noble work. God bless him for it! - And as to the Reformatory established by Dr. Ives, only God can - know the good it has already done and is yet to do. Catholics - are not accustomed to speak much of what they do, but we who - have done little or nothing cannot shelter ourselves behind - those who, alone and single-handed as it were, have tried to - meet this torrent of poverty and crime. As an act of reparation - on my part for past neglect, I place in your hands a check for - one thousand dollars, ($1000,) as a beginning of this noble - work. The Sisters of Charity or Mercy will surely be ready to - take charge of such a house, for where will they find so true a - work of charity or mercy? - - "I beg of you, reverend father, to publish this in your - magazine; for I do not doubt that God has touched other hearts, - and that this little beginning, when known, will grow like a - grain of mustard-seed, and become a great and noble work. - - "Yours, etc., - ......" - -------------- - -{715} - - - New Publications - - - Problems of the Age: With Studies - in St. Augustine on Kindred Topics. - By the Rev. Augustine F. Hewit, - of the Congregation of St. Paul. - New York: Catholic Publication House. 1868. - -This volume, being chiefly a republication of some of our own -articles, cannot, of course, receive from us an independent and -impartial criticism. We can only state its scope and design, -leaving it to other critics to judge of its merits. The topics -which it discusses relate to the dialectic unity of the natural -and supernatural in the universal order of truth and being. It is -intended to meet the intellectual difficulties of those who -cannot see this dialectic unity, and who, therefore, apprehend a -contradiction between the natural and the supernatural, or, at -least, a chasm between the two, which makes it impossible to -explain their relation to each other on rational principles. It -is more especially adapted to that class of persons who are -rather perplexed by an apparent contradiction between reason and -faith, than to those who are either positive infidels or positive -sceptics. There are many such persons, predisposed to admit a -spiritual philosophy and the truth of Christianity, but still in -a state of doubt respecting both philosophical and revealed -truths. The reason of this is, because the current philosophy of -Protestantism is shallow and sophistical, and the current -theology of Protestantism irrational. It is necessary, therefore, -to present a sound philosophy as a cure for intellectual -scepticism, and a sound rational theology as a cure for religious -doubt. _The Problems of the Age_ is a contribution to this -work. It is neither a system of philosophy nor of theology, but -rather a clue to find both the one and the other. It proposes to -the man bewildered in the labyrinth of scepticism a path which -will lead him out into the open day of certitude, and leaves it -to him to try the path or himself, and ascertain by his own -examination whether it be the right one. Protestantism first -destroyed theology, and then philosophy. Rationalism has tried to -reconstruct both; but, having only the _débris_ to use as a -material, and no formula to work by, has failed signally. The -author of the volume before us has endeavored to derive a formula -from the works of the best Catholic philosophers and theologians -which gives the principles of construction, to present an outline -of the plan according to which all true builders always have been -working, and always must work, in the rearing of that temple -whose porch is science and whose sanctuary is faith. The first -principles of reason and the first principles of faith are -presupposed as given. The existence and the attributes of God are -briefly demonstrated from the first principles of reason, as the -basis of faith in revealed truths. The connection between -rational knowledge and supernatural faith is exhibited, and the -point of transition from one to the other designated. The -principal mysteries of revelation are then taken up, and their -dialectic relation to the great truths of natural theology, -respecting God as the first and final cause of the creation, is -pointed out. As the perversions of Calvinism represent some of -these mysterious doctrines in such a way that they are -irreconcilable with natural theology, a considerable space is -devoted to the clearing away of these misconceptions. The -principal philosophical difficulties in the way of apprehending -certain doctrines are also noticed, and a solution given. The -topics most thoroughly treated are those which relate to the -supernatural destiny of man, his primitive condition, the fall, -original sin, and the final consummation of all things, including -the redemption of the human race through the Incarnation. - -{716} - -_The Studies in St. Augustine_ is a subsidiary essay -intended to refute the allegation that the Calvinistic doctrines -have been justly deduced from his writings and the authoritative -teaching of the church in his time. In doing this, the evidence -is clearly presented of the fact that several of the chief -distinctive doctrines of the Catholic Church were held by the -whole church at the time when the great doctor flourished. It is -also shown that modern Catholic theology, although far more -precise and definite in many points than the ancient theology -could be, is the only true and legitimate offspring and -development of its principles. The drift of the whole book in -both its parts is to present a clear conception of what the -Catholic doctrine is, and to show that this conception is in -harmony with the rational principles on which a spiritual and -theistic philosophy must base itself. It is adapted, therefore, -to stimulate thought and awaken an appetite for truth, much more -than to satisfy the mind. Those who are influenced by its -arguments must desire a more thorough exposition both of the -principles of reason and of those of faith, in order to perceive -more clearly the objective truth, both of philosophy and of -revelation, unless they are already well-informed on both points. -The first branch of science has been handled in the most -satisfactory and thorough manner in the philosophical articles of -Dr. Brownson's _Review_. There are also some able articles -on the same topics to be found in _The Catholic World_. It -is much to be regretted that these articles are not to be had in -a separate volume, so as to be easily accessible, and that there -is no complete treatise on philosophy, which is sufficient to -meet the wants of our day, written in the English language. The -second branch of science, which embraces the evidence of the -positive truth of revelation, has been more extensively -cultivated. The shortest and most satisfactory way to a -conclusion on that point is, to take up at once the proof of the -divine institution and authority of the Catholic Church. Two -things only are necessary to be proved: First, there is a God; -second, God reveals his truth and law through the Catholic -Church. It ought not to require a very long time, or a very -difficult process, to establish these two truths in any mind not -prepossessed by error and prejudice. Those who are unfortunately -so prepossessed have no other choice but to work their way out -the best way they can, and every one who lends them a helping -hand does a great service to his fellow-men. - ----- - - Parochial and Plain Sermons. - By John Henry Newman, B.D., - formerly Vicar of St. Mary's, Oxford. - In eight volumes. Vol. I. New edition. - Rivingtons, London, Oxford, and Cambridge. - For sale at The Catholic Publication House, New York. 1868. - -Truly Anglicanism is a unique phenomenon, or, rather, congeries -of phenomena, and of its phases there is no end. Its newspapers -in this country are rather remarkable for virulent hostility to -the Catholic Church, and offensive language about Catholic -persons and things. Only the other day, the Hartford -_Churchman_, which professes to be decent, gave currency to -the shameless report that the late unfortunate Cardinal d'Andrea -was poisoned. The language used about Dr. Newman has been -frequently vituperative and insolent in the extreme. The English -High Churchmen are usually far more gentlemanly than their -American _confrères_, and their tone and language are often -far more decorous when they speak of Catholic affairs. Even in -England, however, as well as in this country, a smattering of -Catholicism very frequently produces an increase of animosity and -bitterness against the Catholic Church. The more nearly some -approach her, the more they become inflamed, like comets -approaching the sun, and the attraction is suddenly turned into a -repulsive force, which drives them back into the dreariness of -space. There are some, however, in England, among those who cling -to the Established Church, whose spirit is kind and loving toward -those whom they would fain regard as their fellow-Catholics, even -though these are converts from Anglicanism. A remarkable proof -that the number of these is considerable is found in the fact -that a new edition of Dr. Newman's _Sermons_ is announced by -the Rivingtons, and that the first volume has already issued from -the press, with a preface by the Rev. W. J. Copeland, rector of -Farnham. -{717} -The typographical execution of the volume is extremely beautiful. -The preface is sad and tender, like the hymn of a captive -Israelite in Babylon. Dr. Newman has, we believe, consented to -this republication. We remember well the delight and instruction -we received from these _Sermons_ when they were first -republished in this country, and the pleasure we experienced in -visiting, a few months ago, the church of St. Mary the Virgin, at -Oxford, where they were preached. We are not able to say whether -they contain anything un-Catholic or not; if so, it cannot be -sufficient to be in any way dangerous, or to detract from their -generally Catholic doctrine and spirit. The editor says that -their author is not to be considered as reasserting all their -sentiments, and that he would undoubtedly wish some parts of them -altered or omitted. They are models of the most perfect English -style, and, as such, of great value to Catholic preachers. Their -circulation among Protestants to as great an extent as possible -is something most devoutly to be wished, and likely to do an -extraordinary amount of good. No doubt the Protestant clergy -here, whatever may be the case in England, will discourage their -being read; yet the younger clergy of all denominations will -undoubtedly read them themselves, and will not be able to hinder -great numbers of the most cultivated among the laity from doing -the same. They are wonderful compositions, the like of which our -language does not contain; and those who are not already familiar -with them will deprive themselves of a very great pleasure if -they do not avail themselves of the opportunity of becoming so. -We feel extremely obliged to the editor and publishers for -sending out this new and beautiful edition, and we hope its -influence may be to draw the hearts of our Protestant friends and -brethren nearer to us. We are extremely anxious that the violent -and hostile controversy between us should cease, and that we -might have the opportunity of discussing with them, in a calm and -quiet way, the points of difference which separate them from -ourselves. While their tone and manner are so discourteous and -unfair, this is impossible; and we hope they may learn a lesson -from Mr. Copeland, and others among themselves who are of like -spirit with him, as well as from the _ci-devant_ Vicar of -St. Mary's, who is revived once more in his surplice and hood, to -preach again among his former people, as the prophet of the ten -lost tribes. - ------ - - Appleton's Short Trip to Europe. (1868.) - Principally devoted to England, Scotland, Ireland, - Switzerland, France, Germany, and Italy; with - Glimpses of Spain, Short Routes in the East, etc.; - and a Collection of Travellers' Phrases in French and German. - By Henry Morford, Author of "Over Sea," - "Paris in '67," etc., etc. - New York: Appletons. - -This is a very pretty, convenient, and useful hand-book for -travellers, full of useful advice and valuable directions, which -we can cordially recommend to every person about to make a tour -to Europe for the first time, as the best book of the kind we are -acquainted with. There are some allusions and remarks scattered -through the book which seem intended to enliven it and give it a -flavor of humor, and which will doubtless please a certain number -of its readers. Others, however, may perhaps think they detract -from the general good taste evinced by the author, when he -confines himself to a more quiet and simple style of giving -information. - -Sidney Smith's coarse pun on the name of St. Peter, and the -author's own very dull attempt at wit in regard to the relics of -the martyrs in the church of St. Ursula, at Cologne, will not -render the book any the more agreeable to Catholic tourists, and -we should think not to any persons of refined taste. The -allusions made occasionally to the supposed vicious propensities -of a certain class of tourists are still more objectionable. They -are like whispering behind the hand, or exchanging nods and -winks, in good company. -{718} -The guidebooks of Paris are models of the most perfect taste and -elegance in style, and so are those of Baedeker, for the -continent, with the exception of an occasional falsehood or sneer -about something Catholic. In our judgment, these are the proper -models to imitate. - -We cannot omit remarking, while we are on the subject of -guide-books, that it would be a work of great service to Catholic -tourists, if some competent person would prepare a guide-book for -their use, with reference to all the places and objects specially -interesting to them as connected with their religion and its -history. - ------ - - Rhymes of the Poets. - By Felix Ago. - Philadelphia: E. H. Butler & Co. 1868. - -A very amusing satirical essay upon "allowable rhymes," selected -from the verses of a large number of poets. - ----- - - Lake George: Its Scenes and Characteristics, with Glimpses of - the Olden Times; to which is added some account of Ticonderoga; - with a description of the route to Schroon Lake and the - Adirondacks. With Illustrations. - By B. F. De Costa, - 1 vol. 12mo, pp. 196. - New York: A. D. F. Randolph. 1868. - -This is an excellent little book for tourists to Lake George and -the surrounding country. The first white man who saw Lake George -was the Jesuit missionary, Father Jogues, who, having arrived at -that beautiful lake on the eve of the festival of Corpus Christi, -called it "The Lake of the Blessed Sacrament," a name it retained -until changed by the English to its present one. The author takes -pains to correct the many misstatements of other writers with -regard to historical events which occurred in the vicinity of the -lake. The account of the defeat of the English by Montcalm, 1757, -is given; and the reported connivance of that general in the -massacre of the English troops after their surrender is disposed -of as one of the "wild exaggerations of the day." Yet it is only -a few years ago that a distinguished general, while on a visit to -the lake, reiterated, in a speech to his admirers, the terrible -cruelty of the French in allowing the captives to be massacred in -cold blood, and asserted that it was one of the customs of that -barbarous age, and therefore was not prevented by Montcalm. Mr. -De Costa says, with reference to this reported massacre: "That -class of writers who furnish what may be called apocrypha of -history, have delighted in wild exaggerations of this event. -Drawing their material from the crudest sensation accounts of the -day, they have not hesitated to record as facts the most -improbable fancies. It is to be regretted that these accounts -have crept into so many of our popular school histories, in one -of which, now extensively used, we are informed that, when -Montcalm went away, he left the dead bodies of one hundred women -shockingly mangled and weltering in their blood. The account is -based upon a supposed letter of Putnam's that was never written, -and is of the same authority as that favorite but now exploded -story of the school-boy, which relates Putnam's descent into the -wolfs den." He also truly says that "national enmity has had much -to do with these misrepresentations of Montcalm, who was every -way a noble and humane man, as well as the ablest general of his -day in all North America." Religious animosity had its share in -it, too, and no small share either. The French were Catholics; -the English, Protestants; and it was only in perfect keeping with -the English literature of the day to paint everything done by the -French Catholics in the darkest colors possible. But this calumny -cannot stand the tests of the critic of to-day, and we are glad -to see a little hand-book like this, which must become popular -with the tourist of the Northern lakes, stamp the fictions which -have crept into history as they deserve, and give its readers the -truth. - -{719} - -The work is printed on good paper, and illustrated with wood-cuts -of the most noted places referred to in its pages. - ------- - - Democracy in the United States: - What it has Done, What it is Doing, and What it will Do. - By Ransom H. Gillett, formerly Member of Congress from St. - Lawrence County, N.Y.; more recently Registrar and Solicitor of - the United States Treasury Department, and Solicitor for the - United States in the Court of Claims, etc. - New York: D. Appleton & Co. 1868. - -This is what, we suppose, will be termed, in the language of the -market, a _seasonable_ book, it being brought out just in -time for, and adapted to, the political campaign upon which the -country has now fully entered. It aims to give a succinct but -complete history of the Democratic party, of its measures and its -leading men, from its beginning down to the present time. We are -not ourselves politicians enough to judge how faithfully or -reliably this has been done. The volume--a compact one of some -four hundred pages--is brought out in the Messrs. Appleton's -excellent style of book publishing, and will, of course, have an -extensive sale. - ------- - - Histoire De France. - Par V. Duruy. - Nouvelle Edition, illustrée d'un grand - nombre de gravures et de cartes geographiques. - Paris: Hachette. (New York: Christern. 2 vols. 12mo.) - -This is a part of a course of compendious universal history -prepared by a number of learned writers, under the direction of -M. Duruy. It is a clear and succinct history of France from the -earliest epoch to the year 1815, with an appendix containing a -summary of events from 1815 to 1866. The history of France is of -the greatest interest and importance, and but little known among -us, especially in its Catholic aspects. This book is, therefore, -one of the most useful text-books for the instruction of classes -studying the French language, which can be studied; and most -invaluable also for others, who are able to read French, and who -desire to have a brief but complete exposition of French history. - -Besides its numerous and valuable maps, it contains more than 300 -remarkably well-executed and artistic woodcuts, which add very -much to its value and interest. The study of the French language -and literature has been too much neglected in our American -colleges and higher schools. Every person of liberal education -ought to read and speak the French language. We recommend this -book to the attention of teachers, parents, and all persons -occupied with the study of French, and also to intelligent -tourists, to whom it will prove an invaluable companion on a -visit to _La Belle France_. - ------- - - O'Shea's Popular Juvenile Library. - First series. 12 vols. Beautifully illustrated. - New York: P. O'Shea. 1868. - -The titles of the volumes in this series are as follows: - - The Inquisitive Boy and the Little Ragman; - The Picture and the Country Cousins; - Augusta and Christmas Eve; - The Young Guests, and other stories; - The Page, and other stories; - The Young Artist; - The Gray Woman of Scharfenstein, and other stories; - The Young Painter; - Tailor and Fiddler; - Sobieski's Achievements; - Hedwig of Poland; - The Young Countess. - -These tales are taken principally from the German and French, and -are unexceptional in matter. - ------- - - The Catholic Crusoe. - Adventures of Owen Evans, Esq., Surgeon's Mate, - set ashore with five companions on a desolate island - in the Caribbean Sea, 1739. Given from the Original MSS., - by Rev. W. H. Anderdon, M.A. - New York: D. & J. Sadlier & Co. 12mo, pp. 519. - -{720} - -A notice of Dr. Anderdon's very entertaining story appeared in -_The Catholic World_ for December, 1867. The reprint before -us is very well got up, but lacks an interesting feature of the -original edition, namely, its maps and illustrations. - ------- - - The Queen's Daughter; or, The Orphan of La Granja. - By the author of _Grace Morton_, etc. - Philadelphia: Peter F. Cunningham. Pp. 108. - -A pleasant tale for young folk, neatly bound, and, in general -typographical execution, a very decided improvement on its -predecessor, _Elinor Johnstone_. - ------- - - The Complete Poetical Works of Thomas Campbell, - with a Memoir of his Life. - New York: D. Appleton & Co. 1868. - -So far as the paper and binding are concerned, this edition of -Campbell is beautifully got up; but we cannot say as much for the -type, which is the very reverse of beautiful. - ------- - - A Popular Treatise on the Art of House Painting, - Plain and Decorative. - By John W. Masury. New York: D. Appleton & Co. - -A very useful book, on an important subject, for those who would -preserve their houses, and have them tastefully and, at the same -time, economically painted. The mechanical portion of the work is -executed in the Messrs. Appleton's best style. - ------- - - Celebrated Sanctuaries of the Madonna. - By Rev. J. Spencer Northcote, D.D. - Philadelphia: P. F. Cunningham. 1868. - -This is an American edition of Dr. Northcote's work, the English -edition of which we noticed in our July number. It is brought out -in very handsome style, and reflects credit on the taste of the -publisher. - ------- - -Announcements.--"The Catholic Publication Society" has in press, -or in preparation, the following new works: - - 1. Symbolism. By Adam Moehler. This will be ready about - August 1st. - 2. Second Series of Illustrated Sunday-School Library. Ready - about September 1st, twelve vols., for titles of which see - advertisement on second page of cover. - 3. Memorials of those who suffered for the Catholic Faith in - Ireland, in the Sixteenth, Seventeenth, and Eighteenth - Centuries. Collected and edited from the original - authorities, by Myles O'Rielly. B.A., LL.D. This will be one - of the most important books relative to Ireland ever - published in this country. It will be ready about September - 1st. - 4. Cradle Lands--Egypt, Palestine, etc. Illustrated. - By Lady Herbert. Ready November 15. - 5. Love; or, Self-Sacrifice. By Lady Herbert. - 6. Life of Father Ravigan, S.J. - 7. Third Series of Illustrated Sunday-School Library. - ------- - - Books Received. - -From P. Donahoe, Boston. - Plain Talk about the Protestantism of To-day. From the French - of Mgr. Segur. 1 vol. 32mo, pp. 253. Price, 60 cents. - -From J. B. Lippincott & Co., Philadelphia. - Alleghania; or, Praises of American Heroes. - By Christopher Laomedon Pindar. - ---------------------- - -{721} - - The Catholic World. - - Vol. VII., No. 42.--September, 1868. - - - - The Veneration Of Saints And Holy Images. - - -The veneration paid to saints by Catholics with the formal -approbation or tacit sanction of the supreme authority in the -church is, together with the use made of their images and that of -Christ in religious worship, under the same sanction, the one -feature of the Catholic system most obnoxious to Protestants. -They do not hesitate ordinarily to qualify it as idolatry, that -is, as a rendering of the worship due to God alone to creatures, -both living and inanimate, similar to that which the heathen -system of polytheism ascribes to its numerous divinities and -their images. - -We propose to discuss this matter briefly, not with the intention -of proving that the Catholic doctrine and practice are truly a -genuine outgrowth of the Christian religion by extrinsic -evidence, but of showing their intrinsic harmony with Christian -first principles, and refuting the objections derived from these -first principles against them. As the subject naturally divides -itself into two distinct parts, already clearly indicated in our -opening paragraph, we shall confine our remarks at present to the -first part of it, or that relating to the veneration of saints. - -The preliminary charge of idolatry, or a direct contradiction to -the monotheistic doctrine of natural and revealed theology, is -perfectly groundless, and, however it may be modified and -diminished, there is not an atom of truth in it upon which any -objection to the Catholic doctrine can be based. - -Idolatry, or the worship of the creature instead of the creator, -originates in ignorance or denial of the true conception of the -one living and true God. God is not worshipped, because he is not -known or believed in. By necessary consequence, something which -is not God is conceived as highest, best, most excellent, most -powerful, without reference or relation to God as the author and -sovereign of all that has any existence. The pantheist is an -idolater of all nature, but especially of himself. Even Socrates, -Plato, and Aristotle were not free from idolatrous principles, -although probably free from all sin in the matter, since they -ascribed to the universe a certain amount of being not caused by -the intelligence and will of God as creator. -{722} -Neither are our modern rationalists free from the same error, -since they withhold from God the homage of their reason, and give -it to themselves as to persons possessing intelligence which is -independent of God. Wilful and obstinate heretics are all -likewise in the same category; for, by rejecting a part of what -God has revealed, they, by implication, profess to be superior to -God in intelligence, and substitute an idol of their own vain -imagination in lieu of that eternal truth which is identical with -the essence of God. Idolaters, in the strict sense of the word, -or polytheists, such as the ancient Greeks and Romans were, paid -a formal worship to their gods, as superior beings having a -supreme and irresponsible control over nature and over men. It -was a worship which was a substitute for that originally given to -the true God, totally contrary to it, and an insuperable barrier -to the spread of monotheism as a religion. These false divinities -were, therefore, the rivals of the true God, and filled the place -in the religious worship of the heathen which was filled by him -in the worship established by divine revelation from the creation -of mankind. It is evident, from the very statement of what -idolatry is in itself, that a veneration paid to any creature, -which is proportionate to the degree of excellence which it has -received from the creator, is not idolatrous, and cannot detract -from the supreme veneration which is due to God as the sovereign -lord of the universe. Those who condemn the religious honor paid -to created natures by the Catholic Church cannot therefore lay -down an _a priori_ principle from which to demonstrate in -advance that this honor is necessarily idolatrous, unless they -previously demonstrate that the excellence ascribed to these -natures is such that God cannot communicate it to a creature. The -worship paid to the sacred humanity of our Lord Jesus Christ is -that which is apparently the most obnoxious to the charge of -idolatry of any other species of relative worship which the -church has decreed to be due to any created nature. Our chief -controversy is, therefore, with Jews, Mohammedans, Unitarians, -and others who claim to be pure theists and who deny the -incarnation. What we affirm against these is, that they cannot -demonstrate the impossibility of the incarnation. They cannot -demonstrate the impossibility of a hypostatic union between the -human nature and the divine nature, by virtue of which the -personality of the human nature is divine, and the human nature -is the nature of God, and thus worthy of relative adoration. -Therefore, they cannot argue that the divinity of Jesus Christ -has not been revealed, and that divine worship is not due to him -by the law of God, because God cannot reveal such a doctrine or -command such a worship without contradicting the essential truth -of his nature. Suppose that evidence is given sufficient in -itself to authenticate the revelation of the mystery of the -incarnation, and at once it becomes evident that divine worship -is due to Jesus Christ as God incarnate, precisely because -worship is due to God. The question is then only debatable on the -point whether this revelation has been made or not. If it could -be proved that it has not, and that Jesus Christ is a created and -finite person, it would follow that the worship paid to him by -all orthodox Christians is idolatrous. -{723} -It would be idolatrous to worship any man who should pretend to -be God incarnate when he is not, or who should be erroneously -believed by his disciples to be a divine person, without any -reference to the question whether any such incarnation can be or -has been decreed by the wisdom of God. We are not attempting to -prove the truth of the doctrine of the divinity of Jesus Christ, -or to prove directly that the worship we pay to him is not -idolatrous. Everything, we admit, depends on proving it. If it -cannot be proved, Christianity is a superstition, and must be -classed with Brahmanism, Buddhism, and Mohammedanism. For the -proof of the truth and reality of the incarnation, we must refer -the reader elsewhere. We are intent on showing that no elevation -of created nature which is possible is in any way incompatible -with the supreme dignity and sovereignty of God, and, -consequently, no honor due to such an elevated nature -incompatible with the supreme worship due to the divine majesty. -We are also intent on showing that it is principally the fact of -the incarnation on which the whole question hinges, and the -worship paid to Christ against which the objections of so-called -theists to saint-worship are levelled. The incarnation is the -principle of saint-worship. All orthodox Protestants are accused -of idolatrous saint-worship by Unitarians, Jews, Mohammedans, and -all pure theists. It is true that the orthodox do not regard -Jesus Christ as a mere saint, but all others regard him as being, -at the highest, only the greatest among the saints. All -Protestants who are orthodox on the incarnation, and conformed in -belief to the doctrine of their own confessions and great -divines, believe that the holy humanity of Jesus Christ is -entitled to divine worship. They are obliged to worship not only -the divine nature of Jesus Christ, but also his human nature, his -soul and body. Yet, the human nature of Christ is a created and -finite substance, not possessing a single divine attribute. How, -then, can it receive the worship due to God alone? Evidently it -cannot receive such a worship as terminating in itself, or as -absolute. It is impossible for the intellect to make the judgment -that the substance of the body and of the soul of Jesus Christ is -the infinite, self-existing being whom we call God, and from whom -all things derive existence. Why, then, is the humanity of Jesus -Christ to be worshipped? Because of the divine person to whom it -belongs. The soul and the body of Jesus Christ are the soul and -body of the Son of God. The same person who is God is also man, -and his humanity is inseparable from his person. It is, -therefore, on account of and in relation to his divine person -that his human nature is adored with the worship of latria. If -our Lord should condescend to come upon the earth again, we are -persuaded that every sincere Protestant who believes in his -divinity would gladly prostrate himself at his feet to pay him -supreme adoration, and, if he were able to look upon his face, -would feel that he was gazing upon the very countenance of God, -and that the eyes of the Lord of heaven and earth were fixed upon -him. If there are any whose mind or feelings revolt from the -worship of the Son of God in his human body and through the -medium of his visible form, let them admit at once that they are -no believers in the incarnation, that they have abandoned the -doctrine of the ancient Protestant confessions and are really -Unitarians. Those who fully admit the Catholic doctrine that the -sacred humanity of Jesus Christ is to be adored must range -themselves at once on our side and prepare to defend our common -cause. They must defend themselves and us against the charge of -idolatry. -{724} -They cannot do it without laying down the principle that, when a -created nature is elevated to a special union with the divine -nature, and made to participate with it in dignity, it is worthy -of a proportionate religious veneration. The more orthodox -Unitarians cannot deny this principle without condemning -themselves. They give a veneration at least equal to that which -Catholics call the worship of hyperdulia to Jesus Christ; and as -they do not acknowledge in him any dignity differing in kind, but -only one differing in degree, from that of angels, prophets, -martyrs, confessors, and other saints, they cannot consistently -deny the propriety of giving a lesser veneration, or worship of -dulia, to the saints. Episcopalians and other Protestants -dedicate days and churches in honor of the Blessed Virgin and the -saints, which are acts of very high religious veneration. Only -those who refuse all religious veneration either to Jesus Christ -or to any created nature, because they deny any supernatural -elevation of created nature into a mysterious union with the -divine nature, have any pretext or appearance of consistency in -their charge of idolatry against Catholic saint-worship. Yet it -is precisely the trinitarian Protestants who are loudest and most -violent in repeating this charge. So far as rationalists and -Unitarians are concerned, it is not of much utility to discuss -the question of the veneration of the Virgin and of the saints -directly. The preliminary question of the incarnation has first -to be settled. It is the divine worship we pay to Jesus Christ -which is their great stone of stumbling and rock of offence. We -leave them aside, therefore, to pursue the one direct line of -argument on which we started, namely, that the veneration of -saints flows logically out of the worship of the sacred humanity -of Christ; and is rooted in the doctrine of the incarnation. - -Orthodox Protestants are bound to pay divine worship, or the -adoration of latria, to the soul and body of Jesus Christ; a -worship which would be idolatry if the humanity of Christ were -not united to the divine nature in one personality, so that the -worship of Christ as man is necessarily referred to his divine -person and terminates upon it. For the same reason, they are -bound to pay an inferior veneration, or worship of dulia, to the -saints, because they also are united to the divine nature through -the incarnation and in Christ, as his co-heirs and brethren, the -participators of his glory. They are not united with the divine -nature in one personality, therefore they cannot receive divine -worship. But they are in a lesser mode made "partakers of the -divine nature," as the Scripture explicitly declares, and, -therefore, deserve a veneration commensurate with their degree of -union, which is ultimately referred to God, who is "worshipped in -his saints." To compare the veneration of the saints of God with -the Greek polytheism is simply absurd. It is connected with and -springs out of the doctrine of pure monotheism and the worship -paid to the one true God. It does not, in the slightest degree, -supplant this doctrine or worship, confuse the idea of God, or -interfere with the recognition of his sole and absolute -sovereignty. It presents necessarily, and by its very essence, -the saints as the creatures, the servants, the courtiers, -ministers, and favored friends of God, intercessors and advocates -for men before his throne. -{725} -It presents, therefore, necessarily, God as their creator, -sovereign, and as the source and fountain of all their sanctity, -beatitude, and glory, the author and giver of all the blessings -asked for through their intercession. The perpetual presence of -the true idea of God preserves the idea of the hierarchy of -creatures from all corruption or perversion, and keeps -continually before the mind their relation and subordination to -the supreme and absolute Lord of the universe. - -In the same way, the presence of the true idea of the incarnation -prevents the idea of the mediation of the saints between God and -man from being corrupted. It is impossible for the Blessed Virgin -or any other saint to take the place in the Catholic idea which -belongs to Jesus Christ as the Redeemer and Saviour of mankind, -the Mediator between God and man. It is clearly understood and -vividly realized that Jesus Christ is the medium of union between -God and man through the hypostatic union of human nature with the -divine nature in his person. His expiation of sin derives its -infinite value from the divinity of his person. His merits derive -their infinite value also from his divinity. He is the source and -fountain of grace and mercy, because he is God and possesses life -in himself. He is the sacrifice perpetually offered in the divine -eucharist, the perennial source of life from which the soul is -fed in the holy communion. The mediation of the saints is derived -from him, subordinate to and dependent on his mediation. The -Blessed Virgin and the saints are honored on account of their -relation to him, and are invoked as his agents and ministers in -dispensing grace. It is impossible, therefore, to attribute to -them any separate merit or independent power; and, so far from -the devotion to Our Lady or the saints impeding the view of -Christ, it only brings him into bolder relief, and by contrast -and comparison enhances the conception of his infinite elevation, -as their and our creator and sovereign, above all creatures even -the most exalted. Dr. Johnson with his usual strong good sense, -saw this, and with his usual manly honesty avowed it, as every -one knows who has read his Life by Boswell. Intelligent -Protestants ought to be ashamed of themselves for perpetually -reiterating the stupid charge against the Catholic Church, that -she substitutes the Virgin and the saints as objects of worship -in the place of God, or as objects of confidence in the place of -our Saviour Christ. The only excuse for those who make this -assertion is invincible ignorance, an excuse not very creditable -to men who profess to be theologians. It may avail for those who -have grown too old to make any new studies or receive any new -ideas, and for those whose intelligence and learning are so -circumscribed that they cannot become acquainted with or -understand the arguments of Catholic theologians. But for those -who have the obligation and the opportunity to study and -understand these grave questions, but yet persist, either through -culpable ignorance or wilful dishonesty, in misrepresenting -Catholic doctrine, there can be no excuse. In spite of our desire -to stretch charity to its utmost limits, we cannot help thinking -that they are afraid to meet the question openly and fairly, -afraid to investigate, and afraid to discuss the issue between us -on its real merits. They apprehend, more or less vaguely or -distinctly, that they cannot maintain their ground if they state -the Catholic doctrines fairly and argue against them as they -really are. Their instinct of self-preservation teaches them that -their only safety consists in the smoke which they create by -their incessant fusillade of misrepresentation, and which hides -the true aspect of the field from their deluded followers. - -{726} - -We leave this part of our subject with a reiteration of what we -have already affirmed and proved. The attempt to prove _a -priori_ from the idea of God, or from the idea of the -incarnation and mediation of the Word made man, that the -religious veneration of the saints is incompatible with the -supreme worship due to God, and the supreme confidence we are -bound to repose in the merits and grace of the sacred humanity of -Jesus Christ, is perfectly futile. The only real question is one -of evidence: whether the Catholic Church can furnish evidence of -her divine authority to teach that the Blessed Virgin and the -saints have received a subordinate office of mediation, and are -to be honored and invoked by a special and formal _cultus_. -If the evidence which is proposed can be refuted, the worship of -the saints may be qualified as a vain observance, a superstition, -a useless addition to Christianity. But it can never, with any -reason, be denominated idolatry; because it distinctly limits -itself to that veneration which is simply commensurate with a -merely created and derived dignity, leaving intact and perfect -the supreme worship of God. It can never be denominated a -substitution of many saviours and mediators in place of the one -Saviour and Mediator Jesus Christ; because it leaves the doctrine -of his mediation intact and perfect. That this evidence can be -demolished by sound historical learning, scientific exegesis of -the Scriptures, or solid theological arguments, we have no fear. -We do not think our antagonists have much hope of doing it. They -have already said all that can be said on their side, and only -damaged their own cause by it. They cannot get rid of the -universal testimony of all ages and countries to the Catholic -doctrine, without resorting to principles which subvert their own -foundation and leave them to sink down into the pit that has -swallowed up Rénan and Colenso. These topics have been -exhaustively handled by numerous and able Catholic writers, to -whom we refer those readers who wish to investigate them. We turn -now to the second part of our subject, which relates to the honor -paid to the sacred images of Christ and the saints. - -Anticatholic writers are so illogical, careless, and confused in -their arguments against Catholic doctrines and practices, and use -so much rhetoric, directed merely _ad captandum vulgus_, -especially when they take up this, which is one of their favorite -themes, that it is very difficult to follow and refute them in a -clear and methodical manner. They deal very much in assertions -and vituperative expressions, in misrepresentations, ridicule, -and low attempts at wit, in unmeaning laudations of themselves as -the only enlightened and spiritual persons in the world, and -wholesale depreciation of Catholics, especially the simple and -pious peasantry and common people of Catholic countries. We -suppose that the substance of their objections against the -veneration of images, extracted and reduced to a clear and -precise statement, would be something like this: The use made of -images in religious worship by Catholics is idolatrous, because -it either is actually an adoration of images as gods in place of -the true God, or, if not, leads to and encourages such a worship, -and bears the outward appearance of being identical with it. It -is, therefore, to be condemned, as intrinsically dangerous in -itself, and therefore prohibited under the old law, and as in -many cases among the uneducated grossly superstitious and -heathenish. -{727} -It is, therefore, on a par with the idolatry of the Greeks and -Romans, and other pagan nations, which is so severely denounced -in the Holy Scriptures, and so unmercifully ridiculed by the -early Christian writers; although enlightened Catholics, like -enlightened pagans, may be free from the grossness of the vulgar -superstition. - -A full discussion of the subject would require us to go into the -question of the nature of image-worship among the heathen -nations. This has been done already by Bishop England, who has -handled the whole matter with great learning and ability in his -"Letters to the _Gospel Messenger_." It has also been -briefly but satisfactorily treated in an article on "Is it -Honest?" in a former number of this magazine. We may assert it as -a certain and established fact, that the heathen priests and -other intelligent advocates of polytheism held the opinion, so -far as they were sincere believers in their own system, that the -divinities whom they worshipped were in some way bound to their -images, and acted through them as the soul acts through the body. -They did not, of course, worship the metal or wood of which the -images were composed; but they did worship the images themselves, -as being animated statues informed by a divine virtue, and really -containing the persons they represented. Philosophers like -Socrates, Plato, and others, and persons who were imbued with the -principles of the more sound and monotheistic philosophy, were -not idolaters in the strict and gross sense. They regarded the -divinities of the popular mythology as only a sort of genii, and -probably considered their images as only representations intended -to impress the senses and keep alive the belief and devotion of -the people. But the doctrine of polytheism was not the doctrine -of the sounder and higher philosophy. The system was idolatrous, -both in its substitution of imaginary beings for the one, true -God, and also in its offering of the worship due to God to images -as containing their imaginary divinities. It is necessary to take -into account, in estimating the idolatrous character of this -heathen worship, not only that it terminated upon objects which -were not divine as the ultimate end of the homage given, without -reference to the supreme creator and lord, but also that these -objects were unreal and imaginary beings. It was not, therefore, -merely an undue exaltation of the creature, but a substitution of -mere creations of the imagination in lieu of the true God. It -was, therefore, not only polytheism, or a denial of the unity of -God, and a division of the deity among many beings possessing -divine attributes, but _idol_-worship, that is, the worship -of nonentities in place of the real, infinite Being. The image -represented nothing real. It was worshipped as related to an -imaginary divinity, supposed to reside in it and to communicate -to it a certain divine quality. There being no such person really -existing, the image was a mere idol; and the worship had no real -object to terminate upon except the material of which it was -composed. A man who cherishes and honors the picture of his wife -has a real and legitimate object upon which the affections and -emotions awakened by the picture may terminate; but an artist who -falls in love with a picture painted after an imaginary ideal in -his own mind loves a mere painted form, an idol, and is, -therefore, guilty of an absurd form of picture-worship. -{728} -If this love takes the place of the love of God in his soul and -leads him to place his supreme good in this imaginary being, he -is an idolater. The heathen had nothing in their idols but lumps -of wood, stone, or metal, fashioned to represent some imaginary -being. They were therefore open to all the ridicule and scorn of -the prophets and other servants of the true God, for shaping to -themselves gods which were the mere creations of their own art -and skill. The condemnation of idols in the Holy Scripture falls, -therefore, not chiefly upon the mere use of images as -representing the object of worship, but upon the making and -honoring of images representing beings who, if they existed, -would not be entitled to the worship they received, and who, in -point of fact, had no real existence. Idolatry is also called in -the Scripture demon-worship, because, as we understand it, the -demons by means of it seduced men away from the worship of God, -and also because, by possessing the images of the false gods, -speaking through the oracles, and inciting to the commission of a -multitude of crimes in connection with idolatry, they reduced the -heathen into servitude to themselves. - -The prohibition of images to be used in the worship sanctioned by -the divine law was a precept of discipline enacted for a special -reason. The reason was the same which lay at the foundation of -that economy by which the trinity of persons in the Godhead, the -incarnation of the Son in human form, the hierarchy of angels, -the glory of the Mother of God, the exaltation of the saints to a -deific union, were at first obscurely revealed, and only -gradually disclosed to the clear knowledge and belief of the -generality of the faithful. It was necessary to establish first -the doctrine of the divine unity and spirituality, then the -Trinity and Incarnation, so firmly in the faith of the people of -God, that it could not be disturbed by anything similar to the -corrupt worshipping of created things, before it was safe to -allow the glorification of all creation and all nature, which is -the consequence of the Incarnation, to be fully manifested. The -Trinity and Incarnation were but dimly revealed, and only -explicitly known by the _élite_ of the faithful, in order -that the attention of the childish, imperfect minds of those who -lived in those early ages, surrounded by a brilliant and -seductive polytheism, might be fixed principally on the unity and -spirituality of the divine nature. It was the special mission of -the patriarchal and Mosaic dispensations to preserve and hand -down the doctrine of the one, true God. There would have been a -danger in distinctly revealing the Trinity before the time, that -the dogma would have been corrupted and perverted by a false -conception of the plurality of persons in the divine being, as of -a plurality of beings. The Incarnation would have been perverted -also into anthropomorphism, or the conception of the divine -nature as identical with human nature. Too distinct a knowledge -of the angelic hierarchy would have dazzled the minds of a people -predisposed and continually tempted to idolatry, and would have -withdrawn them from the contemplation and worship of God. -Sculpture and painting would have affected their senses and -imagination too powerfully, and would have fostered the -disposition to conceive of the divine nature as divided among -many deities, and resembling material, created objects. It was -necessary that Christ should come and manifest himself to men in -his true character, and that he should establish an infallible -church, competent to teach and define the Trinity and Incarnation -in their relation to the divine unity, to condemn all errors, and -to direct the development of theology with unerring certitude, -before the grand and abstruse mysteries of faith could be safely -exposed to the gaze of the multitude. -{729} -Our Lord himself proceeded with great caution in these matters, -and so did the apostles and their successors. The trinity in -unity and the person of Christ had first to be proposed and to be -sunk indelibly into the mind of the church, before the Blessed -Virgin and the saints could be brought prominently forward; and -religion had first to be imbued with spirituality and pure, -robust morality, before the splendor of worship and the riches of -the fine arts, and all the subsidiary means of impressing the -senses and the imagination, could receive their due development. -Nevertheless, that the unity of revelation might be manifest and -the continuity of development be kept unbroken, everything which -was destined to bloom forth in its season in full splendor upon -this grand plant of God whose branches are destined to overshadow -the world, existed in germ and bud from the very beginning. It -would lead us too far to follow up this thought. Orthodox -Protestants will admit it in regard to the principal mysteries of -Catholic faith. The text of Scripture shows plainly that -ceremonial, architecture, and music, in a word, all that was not -liable to lose its symbolic character too easily in the minds of -the people, were profusely employed in the religion of the old -law. Philosophy, poetry, science, and literature were kept in -abeyance to a great extent, and yet given sufficiently for -intellectual culture in the inspired writings. And, -notwithstanding the restriction placed on sculpture and painting, -yet images were to a certain extent made use of, by the divine -commandment, for symbolic purposes in the sanctuary and in the -temple. This is their true and legitimate use, and they are to be -classed with other symbols, emblems, or exterior signs and -representations to the senses of persons and things in the -supersensible and celestial world. Sacraments, holy places, holy -things, temples, altars, vestments, ceremonies, images, all -belong to the same order, and find their reason and principle in -the Incarnation. The Incarnation is the highest consecration and -elevation of material substance and form. The body of Christ is -hypostatically united to the divine nature and made the true, -living image of the Godhead, as the Second Council of Nice -teaches, the medium by which God is manifested in the sensible -and visible order. Through Christ the whole material universe is -sanctified and united with God as its final cause. The fanciful -theosophies and mythologies of the heathen world were only -abortive efforts to express this truth. Mr. Gladstone has -recently given utterance to this idea in very beautiful language, -so far as Greek polytheism is concerned, in his review of _Ecce -Homo_. Heathen art was similarly a perverted foreshadowing of -Catholic art, copied after the ideal, not of redeemed and -glorified but of fallen nature, not of heaven but of hell, which -is but a dark counterpart of heaven. - -Modern Protestants will generally admit the lawfulness and -utility of sculpture and painting, considered as the outward -expression of the Christian ideal of beauty, the representation -of persons, scenes, places worthy of respect, means of improving -the senses and imagination with religious ideas. -{730} -They are not like their ancestors, who defaced sanctuaries, -rifled the tombs of the saints, burned relics, broke -stained-glass windows, destroyed sculptures and paintings, and, -with barbarous vandalism, did what they could to efface the -glorious monuments of the ages of faith. The remnants of these -sacred relics of antiquity which they have now in their -possession they preserve with jealous care. They even make use of -sculpture and painting to perpetuate their own heretical -tradition, as well as to set forth what they have retained that -is truly Christian. They adorn their churches with works of art, -and erect monuments and statues to their own chiefs and leaders, -as, for instance, the monument to the English pseudo-martyrs at -Oxford, and the statue of Luther recently unveiled with so much -pomp and ceremony at Worms. They are, therefore, precluded from -making objection to the use of sculptured or painted images of -Christ and the saints in general, and are restricted to -objections against certain uses of these images in religious -rites or worship, and certain acts of respect and veneration -which are exhibited toward them. We will, therefore, proceed to -show that this use of images is precisely identical in principle -with that use of them to which Protestants do not object, and in -conformity with the natural and necessary laws of the human mind, -which even the most violent iconoclasts cannot break. - -The human mind is forced to use images as its media; and, -although it is not necessary to have these images sculptured or -painted, it is by reason of the aforesaid necessity of using -images of some kind that man instinctively seeks in sculpture and -painting a suitable outward form and expression of his -intellectual images, and finds so much pleasure in beholding -these intellectual images expressed in works of art by others. - -The human intellect is incapable of contemplating the divine -essence immediately. It forms an intellectual conception or image -which represents God to itself, but which is most imperfect and -inadequate. Any one who should believe that God really is like -the conception or imagination he is able to form of him, would -commit as great an absurdity as one who should believe that he is -like a venerable old man with a long white beard. Not only is the -conception or intellectual image of God formed by the mind always -inadequate, but it is often false in certain respects. -Aristotle's conception of God was essentially a false one; so is -that of the Deists, of the Calvinists, and of those Universalists -who deny his retributive justice. Even the highest -contemplatives, as they themselves positively affirm, although -they speak of a certain purely spiritual and imageless view of -God, never contemplate God so directly that they can dispense -with every intellectual species or image as a medium, and intend -only by imageless contemplation to designate a degree of -subtility in their intellectual operations which renders them -pure and spiritual by comparison with those of grosser minds. -Probably most persons of uncultivated intellects represent God to -their imagination under some majestic and venerable human form, -and think of him as seated on a throne, in a superb palace, with -his ministering angels, also clothed in corporeal forms, -attending upon him. Those whose clear intellectual conceptions -enable them to rid themselves of every image borrowed from the -human figure in thinking of God, will still find that their minds -make use of certain emblems, figures, or images of the divine -attributes, such as light, the sea, the atmosphere. -{731} -Much more will they find themselves compelled to transfer to -their conception of the divine intelligence and volition the -analogy of their own manner of thought, of their sentiments and -affections. In the same manner, when a person thinks of Jesus -Christ, meditates on his life, death, and glorified state in -heaven, he will form to himself images which represent his ideal -conception, images so much the more distinct as they reflect the -humanity of Christ with which we are far more immediately united -than we are with the divine nature, and which we are therefore -able to represent more exactly and vividly to our imagination. -Are we to say, then, that every person worships the image of God -or of Jesus Christ which his intellect has formed, and becomes -thereby an idolater? Certainly not. His reason and faith assure -him of the existence of God and Christ as objectively real, -distinct from his own mental conception, and surpassing all his -apprehensions. His intention in worship is directed to God as he -really is, and is true worship, although the intellectual media -which the soul is obliged to make use of are imperfect and -inadequate. - -The case is no way altered if the sculptured or painted image of -Christ is made use of, instead of or together with the -intellectual image. The crucifix is only a permanent image -affecting the exterior senses, as the intellectual representation -is a transient image affecting the interior senses. Coleridge -says that a picture is "an intermediate somewhat between a -thought and a thing." The same may be said of a statue, though a -statue is more of a thing than a painting is. The material -substance employed by the artist is merely the substratum of the -form, which is something ideal, as language is merely the medium -of thought. In painting or sculpture of real merit, the higher -and more perfect conceptions of men who possess the artistic gift -are transferred to the minds of those whose ideal conceptions are -of an inferior order, or who, at least, are not able to give -their conceptions an outward and permanent expression. The artist -who makes a statue or painting of our Lord intends to represent -him according to the ideal which he has in his own mind. His -object is to bring the ideal conception of Christ vividly and -distinctly before the imagination of the beholder. The more -completely he succeeds in producing the desired effect, the more -perfect will be the identification of the image with the object -it represents in the imagination of the beholder; that is, the -image, the more completely it is an image, the less does it -attract attention to its own separate reality, and the more does -it fix the attention of the mind on the object it represents. A -person whose mind is susceptible to the influence of art, looking -at a masterpiece of painting or sculpture, forgets that it is -only a representation, and seems to himself to be looking at the -reality. His imagination transports him to the scene of -crucifixion, and he is spell-bound as he gazes on the face of the -dying Christ. The same emotions arise in his mind that would -arise if he were actually gazing upon the crucifixion itself. If -he is a Christian, he will spontaneously elicit acts of worship -toward the Son of God dying on the cross. These interior acts -will manifest themselves by exterior signs, by the respectful -posture, the silence, the reverential expression of countenance, -the moistened eye, which betray the workings of the soul within -to any attentive observer. Suppose that he kneels down and offers -a prayer, that he kisses the feet of the image of Christ, that he -exclaims aloud, "My Lord and my God!" is that idolatry? -{732} -Is he worshipping a picture or a statue? If he is, then all the -merely interior and mental acts of a person who is affected by a -statue or picture of Christ are equally idolatrous. If the -sculptured or painted image of Christ is really substituted for -Christ himself, and receives as a reality, distinct in itself, -any homage or affection which it terminates as an ultimate -object, then all admirers of works of art are guilty of the same -species of absurdity, commit the same unreasonable act, in a -lesser degree, which culminates, in the case supposed, in the -supreme folly of adoring marble, ivory, canvas, and paint. That -class of persons who go into raptures over works of art, -therefore, have nothing to say against the Catholic use of the -crucifix which is not contradicted by their own practice and -avowed sentiments. If the devout sentiments awakened by a -crucifix or a painting of the crucifixion are legitimate for once -and for the space of half an hour, they are legitimate at all -times. If it is lawful to go to a picture-gallery in order to see -a masterpiece, it is lawful to buy it, to hang it in an oratory, -to visit it every day, and to make a regular and constant use of -it, as a means of exciting devotion. If the inward sentiments it -awakens are lawful, so is their outward expression; and if this -outward expression is in itself lawful, it may be prescribed as a -law by the ritual of the church. The same principle that -justifies the making of a crucifix, and the looking upon it with -emotion, justifies the church in placing it above the altar, -bowing or genuflecting before it, incensing it, exposing it on -Good Friday to veneration, and chanting the words: "Ecce lignum -crucis, _venite adoremus_." - -The crucifix, considered as a material object, is merely treated -with the same respect which is shown to a Bible, an altar-cloth, -a chalice, or any other object devoted to sacred uses. As a -representation, it is not distinguished from the object which it -represents, and the acts of interior or exterior veneration which -terminate upon it are merely relative, and are referred -altogether to Jesus Christ. They are like the kiss which a man -imprints upon his wife's picture, or the uncovering of the head -when a procession passes the statue of Washington. There is only -one question, therefore, in regard to the veneration given to the -crucifix, and that is, Does the object or person represented, -that is, our Lord Jesus Christ, deserve the worship of latria, or -divine worship, which we pay to him, and which we signify by -these exterior marks of respect toward his image? The same is the -case with the images of the Blessed Virgin and the saints. The -veneration paid to them has no respect to the material of which -they are composed, but passes to their prototypes, that is, the -persons represented. The only question, therefore, is, Do these -prototypes deserve the honor we intend to pay them? If they do, -it is right to signify this honor by marks of respect to their -images, such as bowing, offering incense, burning lights, -decorating the shrines in which they are placed with flowers, and -kneeling before them to offer prayers. - -We have already shown that those who have the mere devotion of -taste and imagination toward statues and pictures act in a manner -precisely analogous, and pass through the same mental process -which is exhibited by the Catholic in the respect which he pays -to the sacred images of Christ and the saints. -{733} -The only difference is, that the latter makes use of his -imagination in the service of a real and practical faith and -piety. His devotion is not a mere intellectual or sentimental -devotion, but a spiritual exercise. It is, therefore, less -dependent on the artistic merit and excellence of the -representation than the merely sentimental excitement of the -votary of art. A rude crucifix or a simple image of the Blessed -Virgin is sufficient for the only purpose for which the devout -Catholic makes use of them, as a help to fix the senses and -attention, a sort of step-ladder by which he may raise his mind -to the contemplation of Christ and his blessed mother. Many other -circumstances give value to sacred objects besides their -intrinsic worth. Their history, their antiquity, the associations -connected with them, the traditions of past ages which cluster -about them, often give them a sacredness far beyond the charm of -symmetry and beauty. Of the two, we should much prefer to have -Bernini's exquisite statue, over which the Rev. Mr. Bacon goes -into raptures which betray his refined love of art, destroyed, -rather than the venerable statue of St. Peter, which, with -manners the reverse of exquisite and refined, he calls "a grimy -idol." Even persons of the most exquisite taste often love an old -house, old portraits, old articles of furniture, and many other -old things, intrinsically ugly and valueless, far more than any -similar objects which are new, costly, and fabricated in the -highest style of art. For the same reason, certain objects of -devotion, which are devoid of all artistic excellence, may be -very dear and venerable to Catholics of the most cultivated -taste. Much more, then, it is natural that rude and unsightly -statues or pictures should be objects of devotion to Catholics of -uncultivated taste. Protestants make a great mistake in judging -of the sentiments of the common people in Catholic countries. -They attribute to superstition what is really to be ascribed only -to uncultivated taste. The sentiments which are awakened by -masterpieces of art they can understand; but they cannot -understand that ordinary and even grotesque images are -masterpieces of art and models of beauty to the rude and childish -mind of the multitude. To their prejudiced and distorted fancy, -these images appear like idols, and the devotion of the people -toward them like a stupid idol-worship. They do not appreciate -the fact that they are to these simple people what -_chefs-d'oeuvre_ of religious art are to them--a vivid -representation, in outward form, of their own highest ideal. The -susceptibility of these untutored minds to those emotions which -are awakened through the senses is far greater than that of the -more educated, though it is not so chastened. This is especially -the case with the southern races. Poetry, music, painting, -everything which appeals to the imagination, finds a ready -response in their ardent temperament. It is, therefore, a proof -of the highest wisdom in the church that she has taken advantage -of all these means of impressing religious ideas upon the minds -of all classes of men in every stage of intellectual development. -There are some whose devotion takes a more purely intellectual -form, and who elevate their minds to God and heaven more easily -by interior recollection and meditation than by any exercise of -the imagination or any outward aids. A few prefer the solitude of -a cell or a cave to Cologne Cathedral, and an hour's abstracted -contemplation to all the pageantry of St. Peter's. -{734} -Such are permitted and encouraged to follow the bent of their own -inclination and the leading of the divine Spirit. The mass of -men, however, even of the educated and cultivated, need the help -of the exterior world to give them the images and emblems of -divine and spiritual things without which they cannot fix their -attention or awaken their emotions. The quality and quantity of -the helps and instruments with which they worship God vary -indefinitely. The devotion of those whose state is a kind of -intellectual childhood, or in whose temperament imagination and -passion predominate, will necessarily be more sensuous than that -of more cultivated minds or races of a more cool and sedate -temperament. It is the same principle, however, which pervades -and regulates all; the spirit is one, though the form varies. The -true mystic, who is absorbed in the contemplation of the divine -nature, does not deny to the sacred humanity of Christ, to the -Blessed Virgin, the saints, or to any holy things, their worth -and excellence, although he does not fix his attention upon them -so frequently and so directly as others. The great saints and -theologians of the church never despise the devotions of the -people or accuse them of superstition. The distinction between -the intelligent few and the superstitious many in the Catholic -Church, is one which the most highly educated and spiritually -minded Catholics disdain and repudiate as a dishonor to -themselves. It is made by sciolists, who are unable to answer the -arguments of our theologians or to deny the sanctity of our -saints, and who seek to evade in this way the overwhelming force -of the evidence for the truth of our religion. The veneration of -saints and the use of images in religious worship, they say, -though it does not prevent the _élite_ of Catholics from -offering a supreme and pure worship to God and looking up to -Jesus Christ as their only Saviour, leads the multitude to -superstition and idolatry. We are better judges of the fact than -they are. They know next to nothing of the practical working of -our religion, or of the ideas and state of mind of our people. We -know these things. We have, at least, as much abhorrence of -idolatry as they have, and as much zeal for the enlightenment and -spiritual welfare of the multitude. We know that there is no -taint of superstition or idolatry in the devotion of our people. -The Catholic Church keeps the ideas of God and Christ vividly -before the minds of her children; they realize them in a manner -of which those who are out of the church have no conception. The -accusation of withdrawing from God and our Lord that which is due -to them--to divide and scatter it among inferior beings--comes -with a very bad grace from Protestants. What have they done to -reclaim mankind from polytheism and to spread the worship of the -true God? They have done nothing, except to cripple the efforts -of the Catholic priesthood by sowing dissension in Christendom -and giving the scandal of disunion to infidels. They have bred -anew the old heresies against the Trinity and the Divinity of -Christ which had become extinct, together with the more monstrous -error of pantheism. We, the Catholic priesthood, have conquered -the ancient heathenism, have planted everywhere Christianity, -have established on an immovable foundation the doctrine of the -divinity of Jesus Christ, together with the worship of his -adorable name. - -{735} - -We are now carrying on the work of converting the heathen, and of -defending theism and Christianity against the hosts of enemies -raised up against them by the revolt of the sixteenth century. If -Christianity is to gain in the future new and more glorious -triumphs over the false religions of the world, it will be -through our labors and our blood that she will win her victories. -Not only do the defence and advancement of the supernatural order -rest on us; we are obliged also to defend nature, reason, the -arts, the poetry and romance of life, from a gloomy Puritanism, a -hopeless scepticism, a desolating materialism, which would sweep -away all spiritual philosophy, all sound science, all gayety and -charm in life, all joyousness in religion, all ideality and -heroism in the sphere of human existence. It is against a -universal iconoclasm we have to contend--an iconoclasm which -seeks to throw down and deface the image of celestial truth and -beauty, to break the painted windows through which the light of -heaven streams in upon this earthly temple, to efface those -angelic and saintly forms with the Madonna who is the queen of -the whole bright multitude, to overthrow the cross, and finally -to drag down the sacred humanity of Christ, together with the -deity that dwells in it and is worshipped through it, leaving -mankind without a temple, an altar, a Saviour, or a God. We have -learned the nature of the warfare we are engaged in too well from -the conflicts of eighteen centuries, to be deceived or misled. We -know that an attack on the smallest portion of the edifice of the -Catholic Church means its total subversion, and that, -consequently, it is just as necessary to resist it as if it were -avowedly aimed at the foundation. We know that we cannot and must -not yield up the smallest fragment of Catholic truth for any -plausible end whatever. Although, therefore, the veneration of -saints and holy images is not among the most necessary and -fundamental parts of the Catholic religion, yet, as the principle -from which it proceeds is an integral portion of Catholic -doctrine, we shall always maintain it with the same fidelity as -we do the primary truths of the Creed, the Unity and Trinity of -the Godhead, the Incarnation, Passion, and Resurrection of Jesus -Christ. The images of Christ, of the Blessed Virgin, and of the -saints, will always remain above our altars and on the walls of -our churches; the Salve Regina and Litanies of the Saints will -never cease to be chanted in our solemn services; and we shall -continue to adore the Incarnate Word in his sacred humanity with -the worship of latria until the end of the world. - ------- - -{736} - - Nellie Netterville; Or, - One Of The Transplanted. - - - Chapter XV. - - -Before leaving the guard-room, Ormiston poured out a large goblet -of wine from a flask which he had sent one of the soldiers to -procure at a wine-tavern hard by, and insisted upon Nellie -drinking it to the last drop. - -The remainder of the flask he gave to Roger, who, truth to say, -was almost as much in need of it as Nellie; and they then all -went forth together, O'More having previously pledged his word, -both to Ormiston and Holdfast, to consider himself merely as a -prisoner at large, until they themselves should release him from -his parole. - -Their way led them from the gate-house into Bridge street, and -from thence to Ormond Gate, Earl's Gate, "Geata-na-Eorlagh," as -it was then sometimes called. With Major Ormiston in their -company, this was opened to them without a question, and they -afterward proceeded, as fast as Nellie's strength permitted, up -the steep hill street, debouching into the Corn Market. Entering -the latter, they found themselves face to face with Newgate, the -great criminal prison of the city. There it stood, dark, strong, -and terrible--too strong, Roger could not help thinking, to be a -fitting prison for the frail, dying woman it was guarding for the -hangman. It seemed, indeed, almost like an abuse of power to have -cast her there, so helpless as she was, and powerless, in the -strong grasp of the law. - -Newgate had originally formed a square, having at each of its -four angles a tower, three stories high, and turreted at the top. -Two of these however, those facing toward the city, had been -recently taken down; and when Nellie looked upon it for the first -time, it consisted merely of the gate-house, with its portcullis -and iron gates, and a strong tower at either end. Near the prison -stood the gibbet, metaphorically as well as really; for few, -indeed, in those sad days, were the prisoners who, once shut up -within the walls of Newgate, ever left them for a pleasanter -destination than the gallows. From the position in which it -stood, they could hardly avoid seeing it as they passed onward -toward the prison; but in the faint hope of sparing at least poor -Nellie's eyes this terrible apparition, Ormiston stepped a little -in advance of his companions, and placed himself between her and -it. Roger, however, upon whose arm she leaned, knew, by the -sudden tremor which shook her frame that this tender caution had -been in vain. Nellie, in fact, had already seen and guessed at -the ghastly nature of its office there; and as her eye glanced -reluctantly--and almost, as it were, in spite of herself--toward -it, she felt as if she had never before thoroughly realized the -awful position in which her mother stood. What wonder that she -grew sick and giddy as the thought forced itself, in all its -naked reality, on her mind, that her mother--_her mother_, -the very type and personification of refined and delicate -womanhood--might at any hour be dragged hither, shrinking and -ashamed, beneath the rude hangman's grasp? -{737} -What wonder that her very feet failed to do their office, and -that Roger was compelled rather to carry than to lead her past -the spot, never pausing or suffering her to pause until they -stood before the gates of Newgate? - -Here, as at the city gate, the name and authority of Ormiston -procured them ready admission, the jailer receiving them with -courtesy, and showing them at once into a low, vaulted room on -the ground-floor of the prison. Notwithstanding this, however, -Ormiston had no sooner announced the name of the prisoner they -had come to visit, than the man showed symptoms of great and -irrepressible embarrassment. - -"The prisoner had been very ill," he muttered; "had burst a -blood-vessel in the morning, and the bleeding had returned within -the hour. A doctor had been sent for, and was at that moment with -her; but if Major Ormiston could condescend to wait, he would -call his wife, who was also in attendance on the poor lady, and -would tell her to announce the arrival of a visitor. It must be -done gently," he repeated over and over again, "very gently; for -the doctor had already told him that any sudden shock would of -necessity prove fatal." - -Ormiston eyed the man curiously as he blundered through this -statement. He knew enough of Newgate, as it was then conducted, -to doubt much if the visit of a doctor was a luxury often -vouchsafed to its inhabitants; and feeling in consequence that -some mystery was concealed beneath the mention of such an -official, he was almost tempted to fancy that Mrs. Netterville -was already dead, and that, on account of the presence of her -daughter, the man hesitated to say so. The next moment, however, -he had leaped to another and more correct conclusion, though for -Nellie's sake, and because intolerance formed no part of his -character, he made neither question nor comment, as the jailer -evidently expected that he would, on the matter. Greatly relieved -by this apparent absence of suspicion on the part of the English -officer, the man brought in a stool for Nellie to sit upon, and -then once more announced his intention of going in quest of his -wife. Just as he opened the door for this purpose, Ormiston -caught a glimpse of a tall, gray-haired man, who passed down the -passage quickly in company of a woman. The jailer saw him also, -and with a sudden look of dismay upon his features, closed the -half-opened door, and turned again to Ormiston. - -"It was the doctor," he said with emphasis--"the doctor who had -just taken his departure; and as there was nothing now to prevent -their seeing the sick lady, he would send his wife at once to -conduct them to her cell." - -A long ten minutes followed, during which time Nellie sat quite -still, her face hidden by her hands, and shivering from head to -foot in fear and expectation. The door opened again, and she -sprang up. This time it was the jailer's wife who entered. - -"The poor lady had been informed," she said, "of the arrival of -her daughter, and was longing to embrace her. Would the young -lady follow her to the cell?" - -Nellie was only too eager to do so, and they left the room -together. Ormiston hesitated a moment as to what he would do -himself; but not liking to leave Nellie entirely in the hands of -such people as jailers and their wives were in those days, he at -last proposed to Roger to follow and wait somewhere near the cell -during her approaching interview with her mother. -{738} -To this Roger readily assented, and they reached the open door -just as Nellie entered and knelt down by her mother's side. - -More than a hundred years later than the period of which there is -question in this tale, the treatment of prisoners in the Dublin -Newgate was so horrible and revolting to the commonest sense of -decency and humanity as to demand a positive interference on the -part of government. There is nothing, therefore, very astonishing -in the fact, that the state in which Nellie found her mother -filled her brimful with sorrow and dismay. The cell in which she -was confined was low, and damp, and dark, and this she might have -expected, and was in some degree prepared for; but she had not -counted on the utter misery of its appointments; and the sight of -her pale mother--death already haunting her dark eyes, and -written unmistakably on her ghastly features--stretched upon the -clammy pavement, a heap of dirty straw her only bed, and a -tattered blanket her only covering, was such a shock and surprise -to Nellie that, instead of joyfully announcing the fact of her -reprieve to the poor captive, as she had intended, she fell upon -her knees beside her, and wept over her like a child. - -"Mother! mother!" was all that she could say for sobbing, as she -took her mother's hand in hers and covered it with tears and -kisses. Mrs. Netterville appeared for a moment too much overcome -to speak, or even move, but gradually a faint flush passed over -her wan face, and her eyes at last grew brighter and more -life-like, when Nellie, making a strong and desperate effort to -command her feelings, suddenly wiped away her tears and bent over -the bed to kiss her. - -"O mother! mother!" the poor girl could not refrain from once -more sobbing, "is it thus that I see you after all?" - -"Nay, child," the mother gasped with difficulty, "you should -rather thank God for it on your knees. See you not it is an -especial mercy? If I had not burst a blood-vessel to-day, -to-morrow--yes, to-morrow"--a shudder ran through her wasted -frame, and she broke off suddenly. - -"But I have brought you a reprieve," sobbed Nellie, hardly -knowing what she said, or the danger of saying it at that -moment--"a reprieve which is almost a pardon. Only a few days -more, and you would have been free, whereas now--now"--tears -choked her utterance, and, hiding her face on her mother's scanty -coverlet, she sobbed as if her heart were breaking. Mrs. -Netterville half raised herself on her pallet bed. For one brief -moment she struggled with that desire for life which lurks in -every human breast, and which Nellie's exclamation had called -forth afresh in hers. For one brief moment that phantom of life -and liberty, lost just as they had been found again--lost just as -they had become more than ever precious in her eyes--that -contrast between what was to be her portion and what it -_might_ have been, deluged her soul with a bitterness more -intolerable than that of death itself, and her frail body shook -and trembled like an aspen leaf beneath the new weight of misery -thus laid upon it. That one unguarded word of Nellie's had, in -fact, changed, as if by magic, all her thoughts and feelings and -aspirations. Death and life, and health and sickness, freedom and -captivity, had each put on a new and unexpected aspect in her -eyes, and that very thing which, only a minute or two before, had -seemed to her soul as a source of real consolation, had suddenly -taken the guise of a great misfortune. It was as if God himself -had mocked her with feigned mercy; a weaker soul might so have -said, and sunk beneath the burden! But with that strong and -well-tried spirit the struggle ended otherwise. - -{739} - -Clasping her wasted hands together, and lifting up her eyes to -heaven, the dying woman exclaimed, in a voice which none could -hear and doubt of the truth of the sentiments it uttered, "My -God! my God! Thy will, not mine, be done!" Then she fell back -quietly on her pillow, exhausted indeed with the effort she had -made, but calm and smiling and resigned, as if that sudden -glimpse of renewed happiness and life had never, mirage-like, -risen to mock her with its beauty. - -The first use Mrs. Netterville made of her victory over nature -was to comfort Nellie. - -"Weep not, dear child," she whispered tenderly; "weep not so -sadly, but rather thank God with me for the consolation which he -has given us in this meeting. Where is Hamish?" she added, -turning her dim eyes toward the open door, where Ormiston and -O'More were lingering still, and evidently fancying that one or -other of them was her absent servant--"where is Hamish? He has -done my bidding bravely; why comes he not forward, that I may -thank him?" - -"Hamish is not here, mother; I left him with my grandfather." - -"God help you, child!" moaned Mrs. Netterville, a sudden spasm at -her heart at the thought of her unprotected child, "God help you! -have you come hither all this way alone?" - -"Mother," said Nellie in a smothered voice, "I am not alone. -Roger More came with me. Without him it would have been -impossible." - -"Roger More--Roger More," repeated Mrs. Netterville, trying to -gather together her memories of the days gone by. "It was in the -arms of a Roger More that your father breathed his last." - -"In mine, dear lady!" cried Roger, unable any longer to resist -the temptation of presenting himself to Nellie's mother--"in -mine! And knowing that the father did me the honor to call me -friend, Lord Netterville has had the great kindness to entrust me -with the daughter in this long journey, which the love she bears -you compelled her to undertake." - -Something in the tones of Roger's voice, rather than in the words -he uttered, seemed to strike on the mother's ear. She smiled a -grateful smile of recognition, and then turned a questioning -glance, first upon his face and afterward on Nellie's. Perhaps -Roger interpreted that glance aright. At all events, -he took Nellie's hand, and, as if moved by a sudden inspiration, -laid it on her mother's, saying: - -"Only the day after that on which I saw her first, I told her -that I would never ask for this dear hand until her mother was by -to give it." - -"Her mother gives it," said Mrs. Netterville solemnly. "Yes! for -I guess by Nellie's silence that her heart is not far from you -already." - -"Mother, mother!" cried Nellie, resisting Mrs. Netterville's -feeble efforts to place her hand in Roger's--"not here--not -now--not when you are dying." - -"For that very reason," gasped the mother. "My son," she added, -fixing her eyes full on Roger, "_you_ can understand. I -would see my Nellie in safe hands before I go." - -"It would be the fulfilment of my dearest wish," said Roger -earnestly, "if only it be possible." - -{740} - -"It _is_ possible," she was beginning; but pausing at the -sight of Ormiston, who had by this time joined himself to the -group around her bed, she added in an apprehensive tone, "but -there is a stranger present." - -"Not a stranger, but a friend," the young officer replied, in a -tone of sincerity it would have been impossible to doubt, even if -Nellie had not whispered, "A friend, indeed! Without him we could -hardly have been with you now." - -"Then I will trust him as a friend," Mrs. Netterville replied. -"The gentleman who left me as you entered--" - -"The doctor," Ormiston interrupted, with a marked emphasis on the -word. - -"Well, the doctor," she replied, with a languid smile. "He can do -all I need, and he lives close at hand, with the merchant William -Lyon, who knows him not, however," she added, mindful of the -safety of the person named--"who knows him not in any other -character than that of a lodger and chance sojourner in the -city." - -"In ten minutes he shall be here," said Ormiston, "if I can -induce him to come with me. Meanwhile I will give orders to the -jailer to leave you undisturbed." - -"If you permit it, Major Ormiston, I will go with you," said -Roger, not only zealous for the success of the embassy, but -anxious, likewise, that before taking such a decided step Nellie -should have the opportunity of a private conference with her -mother. "I think my name, and a word which I can whisper in his -ear, may be of use--otherwise he might fear a snare." - -Ormiston assenting to this proposition, the young men departed, -and for the first time since the commencement of their interview -mother and daughter were alone together. - -For some minutes, however, neither of them spoke. Mrs. -Netterville lay back, endeavoring to recover breath and strength -for the coming scene, and Nellie was completely stunned. The -shock of finding her mother dying at the very moment when she had -hoped to restore her to new life--the bodily weariness consequent -on her journey--the sudden, and, to her, the most inexplicable -resolution to which Mrs. Netterville had come in her regard--all -combined to paralyze her faculties, and, hardly able to think or -even feel, she sat like a statue on the floor beside her mother. - -From this state of stupor she was roused at last by the sound of -the dying woman's voice: - -"Nellie!" - -"Mother!" cried the girl; and then, as she felt that poor -mother's hand feebly endeavoring to twine itself round her neck, -she burst into a fresh flood of tears. They saved her senses, -perhaps--who knows? Creatures as strong in mind as she was, and -stronger far in body, have died or gone mad ere now beneath such -a strain on both as had been put upon her for weeks. - -"Nellie, my child--my only one--weep not!" her mother whispered -tenderly. "Believe me, little daughter, that I die happy." - -"O mother, mother!" Nellie sobbed; "and I thought to have given -you life!" - -Mrs. Netterville paused a moment, and then, in a voice tremulous -with feeling, she replied: - -"Nellie, I would not deceive you. Life is no idle thing to be -cast off carelessly as a garment; and for one brief moment the -thought that, but for this sudden malady, I might yet have lived -some years longer, filled my soul with sorrow! But it is over -now--more than over--and I am at peace. Why should I not? for you -are safe--you for whom I chiefly clung to life! Yes! now that a -man good and generous, as I long have known Roger More to be, is -about to take my place beside you, I go without repining--nay, -'repining' is not the word," she said, correcting herself--"I go -in great joy and jubilation to the presence of my God." - -{741} - -"O mother!" sobbed Nellie, cut to the soul by this allusion to -her marriage, "that is the worst of all. Do not insist upon it, I -entreat you." - -"Silence, Nellie!" Mrs. Netterville answered, almost sternly. -"Think you I could die happy if I left you--a child--a -girl--unprotected in this wild city?" - -"Mother, be not angry, I beseech you," Nellie pleaded, "if I -remind you that I came hither safe!" - -"Ay, but you were coming to your mother, and the world itself -could say no evil of one bent on such a mission. To-morrow, -Nellie, you will be motherless, and I will not have it said of -you hereafter, that you went wandering through the country -protected by a man who had no husband's right to do it. Child, -child!" Mrs. Netterville added, in a tone of almost agonized -supplication, "if you would have me die in peace, if you would -not that your presence here (instead of joy) should cast gall and -vinegar into the cup of death, you will yield your will to mine, -and go back to your grandfather a wedded woman." - -"Mother!" cried Nellie, terrified by the vehemence with which her -mother spoke, "dear mother, say no more! It shall be even as you -wish. I promise. Alas! alas! this weary bleeding has commenced -again--what shall I do to aid you?" - -Mrs. Netterville could not speak, for blood was gushing violently -from her lips, but she pointed to a jug of water on the floor. -Nellie took the hint at once, and dipped a handkerchief into the -water; with this she bathed her mother's brow, and washed her -lips, until by degrees the hemorrhage subsided, and the dying -woman lay back once more pale and quiet on her pillow. - -Just then, to Nellie's great relief, the jailer entered, bearing -a lighted torch; for the sun was going down, and the cell was -almost dark already. - -After him came Ormiston and O'More, accompanied by the -gray-haired man who had been with Mrs. Netterville at the moment -of their own arrival in the prison. Ormiston took the torch from -the jailer's hand, and placing a gold piece there instead, -dismissed him, with orders to close the door behind him, and to -give them due notice before shutting up the prison for the night. -As he set the torch in the sconce placed for it against the wall, -the light fell full upon Mrs. Netterville's face, which looked so -pale and drawn that for a moment he thought that she was dead, -and whispered his suspicion to the stranger. - -The latter drew a small vial from his bosom, and poured a few -drops upon her lips. They revived her almost immediately; she -opened her eyes, and a smile passed over her white face as they -fell upon her visitant. "You here again, my father!" she murmured -beneath her breath. "I thank God that you have had the courage. -You know the purpose for which I need you?" - -"I know it--and, under the circumstances, approve it," the -stranger answered quietly. "The sooner, therefore, that it is -done the better it will be for all." - -"Poor child--poor Nellie!" murmured Mrs. Netterville, as she -caught the sound of the low sobbing which, spite of all her -efforts at self-control, burst ever and anon from Nellie's lips. -"Poor little Nellie! no wonder that she weeps. It is a sad, -strange place for a wedding, is this prison-cell!" - -{742} - -"These are strange times," said the priest kindly, "and they -leave us, alas! but little choice of place in the fulfilment of -our duties. Nevertheless, sad as all this must seem at present, I -am certain that your daughter will, some day or other, look back -upon her wedding in this prison-cell with a sense of gladness no -earthly pomp could have conferred on marriage; for she then will -understand, even better than she does now, how, by this -concession to a mother's wishes, she has secured peace and -happiness to that mother's death-bed. That is," he added, turning -and pointedly addressing himself to Nellie, "if sorrow for her -mother's state is the sole cause for all this weeping?" - -Nellie felt that he had asked indirectly a serious question, and -she was too truthful not to answer it at once. She did not speak, -however--she could not; but she gave her hand to Roger, and made -one step forward. - -"Come nearer," whispered her mother, "come nearer, that I may see -and hear." - -Roger drew Nellie nearer, until they both were standing close to -the sick woman's pillow. - -"Raise me up," the latter whispered faintly. - -He lifted her in his strong arms, for she was as helpless as a -child, and placed her in a sitting posture, with her back -supported by the wall near which her bed was placed. - -As soon as she had recovered a little from the faintness -consequent on this exertion, she waved her hand to Roger as a -signal that the ceremony should begin. The priest turned at once -to the young couple, and commenced his office, making it as brief -as possible. Brief, however, as it was, and bare of outward -ceremonial, Ormiston, as he stood a little in the background, -could not help feeling that he never before had looked on, might -never again behold, such a strangely touching scene. The wasted -features of the poor mother, for whom death seemed only waiting -until her anxiety for the safety of her child had been set at -rest for ever; the fair face of Nellie, pale now with grief and -watching, but ready as a budding rose to flush into yet brighter -beauty with the first return of sunshine; Roger, with such a look -of grave yet conscious gladness in his eyes as best suited the -mingled nature of the scene in which he was a foremost actor; the -priest, who, at the risk of his own liberty or life, was -fulfilling one of the most solemn offices of his sacred calling; -the vaulted roof above, glistening in the damp as the light -flashed on it, and the bare, bleak walls around, with the names -of many a weary captive inscribed upon them; joy and sorrow, hope -and fear; life springing forward, on the one hand, to its -brightest hours, and sadly receding, on the other, into the -shadows of the tomb--all were gathered together in that -prison-cell, and combined to form a picture which would have -needed the pencil of a great master to render in its full force -and truth. - -It was done at last! Nellie had said the word which made her a -wedded wife, and Mrs. Netterville folded her in her arms, and -whispered, "Thank you, dearest, thank you; for I know what this -must have cost you!" and then placing her hand in Roger's, added, -"Take her, my son--take her; God is my witness that I give her to -you without a fear for her future happiness. To you in whose arms -the father died I may well intrust the daughter!" - -{743} - -"You shall never repent it, mother--never!" said Roger, with -that calm, determined manner which better than many words, brings -assurance to the soul, of truth. "I loved her from the first day -I saw her, not so much for her brightness and her human beauty, -as for that higher beauty which I thought I discovered in her -soul, and which she has bravely proved since then. Over beauty -such as that time has no power; the love, therefore, that springs -from it must last for ever." - -"It is well, my son," replied Mrs. Netterville, "I thank you, and -believe you. And now, be not angry if I bid you go! For this one -day Nellie must be all my own--to-morrow there will be no one to -dispute her with you." - -She spoke the last words hurriedly, for the jailer entered at -that moment to inform Ormiston that the prison was about to be -shut up for the night, and that it was his duty to see that all -strangers left it. - -"But not Nellie--not my child?" said Mrs. Netterville, with an -appealing look, first to the jailer and then to Ormiston. "Surely -you will leave Nellie with me?" - -"They must!" cried Nellie passionately, "for by force alone can -they drag me from you." - -"Sir," said the dying woman, addressing herself this time to -Ormiston alone, "add this one favor, I beseech you, to all the -others you have done me, and let my child close my dying eyes?" - -"I cannot refuse you, madam," he replied, much moved. "But is -your daughter equal to the effort? Would it not be better to have -the jailer's wife as well?" - -"No--no!" cried Nellie, answering before her mother, who looked -half inclined to assent to this proposition, could reply. "I am -equal, and more than equal. I would not have a stranger with us -to-night for the world." - -"Come for her, then, at the first dawn of day," said Mrs. -Netterville, with a glance, the meaning of which they understood -too well. She gave her hand in turn to each of the young men, and -then signed to them to withdraw. Ormiston did so at once; but -Roger turned first to Nellie, and taking her passive hand, lifted -it silently to his lips. Not to save his life or hers could he -have done more than that in the solemn presence of her dying -mother. - -He then followed Ormiston. The priest lingered a moment longer to -speak a word of cheer to his poor penitent; but the jailer -calling him impatiently, he also disappeared, and the cell-door -was closed behind him. - - - - Chapter XVI. - -The rattling of the key in the lock as the jailer shut them up -for the night came like a death-knell on poor Nellie's ear. So -long as Ormiston and Roger had been there beside her, she had, -quite unconsciously to herself, entertained a sort of hope that -something (she knew not what) might yet be devised for the solace -of her mother; and now that they were gone indeed, she felt as -people feel when the physician takes his leave of his dying -patient, thus tacitly confessing that all hope is over. The lamp, -which, in obedience to a word from Ormiston, the jailer had -brought in trimmed and lighted for the night, revealed the cell -to her in all its bleak reality, and as she glanced from the -straw pallet, which at Netterville they would have hesitated to -place beneath a beggar, to the pitcher of cold water, which was -the only refreshment provided for the dying woman, Nellie felt -anew such a sense of her mother's misery and of her own inability -to procure her comfort, that, unable to utter a single syllable, -she sat for a few moments by her side weeping hopelessly and -helplessly as a child. -{744} -Mrs. Netterville heard her sobbing, and, after waiting a few -minutes in hopes the paroxysm would subside, said gently: - -"Nellie--my little one--weep not so bitterly, I entreat you; you -know not how it pains me." - -"How can I help it, mother?" sobbed the girl, unable to conceal -the thought uppermost in her own mind. "_You_ suffer, and -the lowest scullion in the kitchen of Netterville would have -deemed herself ill-used in such poverty as this!" - -"Is that all, my child?" said her mother, with a faint smile. -"Nay, dear Nellie, you may believe me, that, to a soul which -feels itself within an hour of eternity, it is of little moment -whether straw or satin support the body it is leaving. Eternity! -yes, eternity!" she murmured to herself "Alas! alas! how little -do we realize in the short days of time the awful significance of -that word, for ever! - -"Mother, you are not afraid!" burst from Nellie's lips, a new and -hitherto unthought-of anxiety rushing to her mind. - -"Afraid!" Mrs. Netterville echoed the expression with a smile. -"No, my daughter, by the grace of God and goodness of Our Lady I -am not afraid. Nevertheless eternity, with its ministering angel -Death, are awful things to look on, Nellie, and if I could smile -at aught which makes you weep, it would be to think that such a -silly grievance as a straw pallet could add to their awfulness in -your eyes." - -"Not to their awfulness, mother," Nellie sobbed, "but to their -sorrow; it is such a pain to see you comfortless." - -"And has no one else been comfortless in death?" Mrs. Netterville -whispered almost reproachfully. "Only consider, Nellie, this -straw bed which you lament so bitterly is a very couch of down -compared to His, when he laid him down upon the hard wood of the -cross to die." - -"Mother, forgive me; I never thought of that," said Nellie -humbly. "I only thought of your discomfort." - -"Think of nothing now, dear Nellie, but this one word of -Scripture, 'Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord;' and hope -and pray that it may be so with me to-night. Now, dry your eyes -and listen, for I have much to say, and but little time left -wherein to say it. Dry your eyes, for I cannot bear to see you -weeping thus. Your tears have almost the power to make me repine -at death." - -The last hint was sufficient. Nellie resolutely checked her -tears, and laid her head down on her mother's pillow, in order -that the latter might speak to her with less danger of fatigue. - -Then, in a few earnest, touching words, Mrs. Netterville set -before her daughter the duties of her new state of life, and gave -advice, which, precious as it would have been at any time, was -doubly precious then, coming as it did from the lips of a dying -mother; after which, true to an idea ever uppermost in the Irish -mind, and which she had too thoroughly adopted her husband's -country not to feel as keenly upon almost as he could have done -himself, she adverted to her own place of burial. - -"It cannot be at Netterville, I know," she said. "I may not -sleep, as I had ever hoped, by the side of my brave husband! But -in your new western home, dear Nellie--in your new western home, -where the churches, I believe, are yet undesecrated--there, if -it be possible, I would gladly take my rest--there, where you can -come sometimes to pray for your poor mother, and where, when my -husband's father follows me, as no doubt he must full soon, he -can be laid quietly to sleep beside me." - -{745} - -She paused, and Nellie muttered something, she hardly knew what, -which she hoped would sound like an assent in her mother's ears. -Not for worlds would she have saddened her at such a moment by -allowing her to discover that Roger, like themselves, had been -robbed of his inheritance, and that, instead of that quiet -western home of which she spoke so confidently, her wedded life -with him must be spent of necessity in a foreign land. - -Whatever she did or did not say, her mother evidently fancied it -was a promise in conformity with her wishes, and went on in that -low, rambling way peculiar to the dying: - -"It was not thus--not thus that I had thought to visit that wild -land. I dreamed of a resting-place and a welcome--a meeting of -mingled joy and sadness--and then a homely life, and at its close -a peaceful ending. But it is better as it is--much better. Our -next meeting will be all of joy--joy in that eternal home where -God gathers together his beloved ones, and bids them smile in the -sunshine of his presence. Yes, yes! it is better as it is!" - -"As God wills. He knows best--he knows," and then Nellie -stopped, powerless to complete the sentence. - -"Remember me to my father, Nellie, "Mrs. Netterville continued -faintly--"for father I may truly call him who has been in very -deed a parent to me ever since I was wedded to his son. And poor -Hamish also--let him not think himself forgotten, and tell him -especially of the gratitude I feel for this great consolation -procured me by his faithful service--my Nellie's heart to rest on -in dying--my Nellie's hands to close my eyes in death." - -The last words were barely audible, and after they were uttered -Mrs. Netterville lay for a long time so mute and still that, -fancying she was asleep, Nellie hardly dared to move, or even -almost to breathe, lest she should disturb her. At last she felt -her mother's hand steal gently in search of hers. - -"Your hand, dear Nellie," she whispered softly. "Nay, do not -speak, my daughter, but take my hand in yours, that I may feel, -when I cannot see, the comfort of your presence." - -Nellie took her mother's hand in hers. It was as cold as ice, and -she gently tried to chafe it. But the movement disturbed the -dying woman. - -"It prevents me thinking, Nellie," she whispered faintly, "and my -thoughts are very sweet." - -The words sent a gush of tenderness and joy to Nellie's heart, -telling her, as they did, that her mother's was at peace. But the -physical condition of that poor mother still weighed heavily on -her soul, and taking the mantle from her own shoulders, she laid -it on the bed, hoping thus gradually and imperceptibly to restore -warmth to the failing system. Mrs. Netterville perceived what she -had done, and, true to that forgetfulness of self which had been -the chief characteristic of her life, she would not have it so. -"Nay, nay, child," she murmured as well as she could, for she was -by this time well-nigh speechless, "put it on again, for you need -it, and I do not. This death-chill is not pain." - -{746} - -She tried to push it from her as she spoke, and became so uneasy -that Nellie, in order to calm her, was forced to resume the -garment. Satisfied on this point, her mother closed her eyes like -a weary child, and fell into a dozing slumber. It was the stupor -preceding death, but Nellie, never suspecting this, felt thankful -that her mother's hacking cough had ceased, and that her -breathing had become less painful. For more than an hour she sat -thus, her mother's hand in hers--praying, watching, -weeping--weeping silent, soundless tears--not sobbing, lest it -should disturb the sleeper. - -The night passed onward in its course, but day was yet far off -when the lamp began to waver. Sometimes it flickered and -sputtered as if just going to be extinguished, and then again it -would flare up suddenly, casting strange shadows through the -gloomy space, and deepening the pallor on the sleeper's brow, -until it almost seemed as if she were dead already. Lower still, -and lower, after each of these fresh spurts, it sank, while -Nellie watched it nervously; but just as she fancied that it had -actually died out, it flashed up high and bright again, full upon -her mother's face. Nellie turned eagerly to gaze once more upon -those dear features. Even as she did so, a rush of darkness -seemed to fill the cell--darkness that could be almost felt--and -a pang seized upon the poor girl's heart, for she knew at once by -intuition that the lamp was now gone indeed, and that she had -looked for the last time on the face of her living mother. - -The sudden change from light to darkness seemed somehow to -disturb the invalid. She opened her eyes wearily, and something -like a shudder passed over her; but when she felt her daughter's -hand still clasping hers, a heavenly smile (pity that Nellie -could not see it then--she saw its shadow on the dead face next -day, however) settled on her features, and she whispered: - -"You here still, dear child? Thank God--thank God for that!" - -"Mother, what would you?" Nellie asked, amid her tears. - -"It is coming, Nellie; be not frightened, dearest. It is coming -like a gentle sleep. Pray for me, dear one; pray loud, that I may -hear you." - -What prayer could Nellie say at such a moment? An orphan already -by the loss of her father, she was about to be doubly orphaned in -her mother's death, and her thoughts turned naturally and -spontaneously toward that other Parent whose home is heaven, and -who, Father as he is to each of us, has pledged himself to be so -in a yet more especial and individual manner to the fatherless of -his earthly kingdom. - -The words of the "Our Father" seemed to rise unbidden to her -lips. - -"Our Father who art in heaven." - -"Who art in heaven," her mother repeated after her; and then came -a pause of sweet, and solemn meditation. - -"Thy kingdom come," Nellie once more found voice to say. Mrs. -Netterville had ever kept the desire of that kingdom in her heart -of hearts. Surely he was now calling her to enjoy it in eternity! -So Nellie thought, and the thought gave her strength and courage -to go on. - -"Thy will be done!"--that _will_ which was calling her last -parent from her side. Nellie sobbed aloud as she uttered the -words, but Mrs. Netterville took them up, and, in a voice of -ineffable love and sweetness, kept repeating over and over again, -as if she never could weary of the sentiment. - -"Thy will be done; _thy_ will--_thy_ will--thy will, -ever merciful and to be adored--thy will, my God, my Father, and -my Redeemer--thy will, not mine, be done!" - -{747} - -Nellie listened until she almost felt as if she herself were -standing with her mother on the threshold of eternity. A sweet -and awful calmness settled on her soul. She knew intuitively that -her mother was in the very act of dying, but she no longer felt -fear or sorrow. It was as if the Judge of the living and the -dead, not stern and exacting, but tender and approving, was -descending in person to that bed of death to speak the sentence -of his faithful servant. It was as if saints and angels were -crowding after him, bowed down, indeed, beneath his awful -presence, but yet glad and jubilant over the crowning of a sister -spirit, and bringing the songs and sweetness of heaven itself on -the rustling of their snowy wings. And in the midst of such -thoughts as these, Nellie still could hear her mother's voice -repeating, "Thy will, my God, not mine, be done." - -Fainter still and fainter grew that voice, as the soul which -spoke by it receded toward eternity; then all at once it died -away, and Nellie felt that the last word had been said in heaven. - -It was very dark now, and very cold--the cold that precedes the -dawn--cold in Nellie's heart within, and cold in the outside -world around her. She shivered, and was scarcely conscious that -she did so. Was her mother really dead? She knew it, and yet -could scarce believe it. For a little while she knelt there -still, waiting and holding in her breath in the vague, faint hope -that once more, if it were even for the last time, once more that -sweet, plaintive voice might greet her longing ear. But it never -came again. At last, by a great effort, she put forth her -trembling hand and touched her mother's face. It was already -growing cold, with that strange, hard coldness which makes the -face of the dead like a marble mask to the living hands that -touch it. She shuddered; nevertheless, with an instinctive -feeling of what was right and proper by the dead, she did not -withdraw it until she had pressed it gently on the eyelids, and -so closed them without almost an effort. - -That done, she knelt down once more, and, hiding her face in the -scanty bedclothes, tried to pray. - - ...... - -Day began to dawn at last, and a few sad rays forced their way -into that gloomy cell; but Nellie never saw them. Sounds began to -come in from the newly-awakened city, but Nellie never heard -them. The prison itself shook off its slumbers, and there was a -slamming of distant doors and an occasional hurried step along -the passages; and still she took no heed. She knew, in a vague, -careless way, that at one time or another some one would be sent -to her assistance, and that was all she thought or cared about -it. In the mean time she prayed, or tried to pray; but when at -last they did come, they found her stretched upon the floor, as -cold almost and quite as unconscious as her dead mother. - - - - Chapter XVII. - -"To the memory of Francis, Twelfth Baron of Netterville, one of -the Transplanted, and of Mary, the widow of his only son." - -{748} - -Nellie stooped to decipher the inscription, but it may be doubted -if she saw aught save the stone upon which Hamish, in obedience -to his master's dying orders, had engraved it, for her eyes were -full of tears. A hurried journey to the west, another death-bed, -and a few weeks more of tears and renewed sense of desolation had -followed the events recorded in our last chapter, and then at -last a holy calmness settled upon Nellie's soul--a calmness and a -happiness which was all the more likely to endure that it was -founded upon past sorrows bravely met and meekly borne, in a -spirit of true and loving resignation to the will of Him who had -laid them on her shoulders. From the day of her departure from -Clare Island, the old lord had drooped like a plant deprived of -sunshine, and he died on the very evening of her return, his hand -in hers, smiling upon her and her brave husband, and leaving for -only vengeance on his foes the inscription which heads this -chapter, to be engraved upon his tombstone. - -Nellie laid him to rest beside her mother; for through the -kindness of Ormiston she had been enabled to carry out Mrs. -Netterville's dying wishes, and to bear her remains to that -western shore which she had so fondly and so vainly fancied was -to be her daughter's future home. Ormiston had done yet more. He -had obtained a reversal of the sentence of outlawry against -Roger, coupled with the usual permission to "beat his drum," as -it was called, for recruits to follow his banner into foreign -lands, to fight in the armies of foreign kings. It was the evil -policy of those evil times. - -To rid Ireland of the Irish was the grand panacea for the woes of -Ireland, the only one her rulers ever recognized, and of which, -therefore, they availed themselves most largely, careless or -unconscious of the fatal element of strength they were thus -flinging to their foes. As a native chieftain and a well-tried -soldier, Roger had a double claim upon his people, and short as -had been the time allotted to him for the purpose, fifty men, of -the same breed and mettle as the soldiers who fought at a later -period against an English king until he cursed, in the bitterness -of his heart, the laws which had deprived him of such subjects, -had already obeyed his summons. They assembled under the -temporary command of Hamish, near the tower, waiting the moment -for embarkation, and the ship that was to convey them to their -destination was riding at single anchor in the bay on that very -morning when Nellie and her husband knelt for the last time -beside her mother's grave. It was like a second parting with that -mother. But with Roger at her side she could not feel altogether -friendless or unhappy, and they prayed for a little time in -silence, with a calm sense of sadness which had something of -heavenly sweetness in it. At last it was time to go, and Roger -laid a warning finger upon his young wife's shoulder. She did not -say a word, but she bent down once more and kissed her mother's -name upon the stone; then she gave her hand to Roger, and they -left the churchyard together. While she had been lingering there, -Henrietta had landed with Ormiston at the pier to bid her a last -adieu. The quick eye of the English girl instantly perceived the -goodly company of recruits assembled near the tower, and with a -little smile of malicious triumph she pointed them out to her -companion. Ormiston shook his head reprovingly. He was too -thoroughly a soldier not to lament the policy which drafted large -bodies of men into foreign armies, but he was full at that moment -of his own concerns, and had little inclination to waste time in -discussing the wisdom of his leaders. The truth was, Henrietta's -reception of him on his arrival from Dublin the night before had -disappointed him. -{749} -He had come in obedience to her own written orders, as conveyed -to him by Nellie, and instead of the frank, loving meeting which -his own frank and loving nature had anticipated, he had found her -shy, cold, and, he was forced to confess to himself, almost -unkind. At first he consoled himself by attributing this in a -great measure to the presence of her father, before whom she -always seemed naturally to assume the bearing of a spoiled and -unruly child; but when at her own invitation he had rowed her -that morning to Clare Island, and her manner, instead of -softening, as he had hoped, grew even colder and more constrained -than it had been before, he became seriously distressed, and -unable to endure the suspense any longer, they had hardly landed -from the boat ere he turned short round upon her, and said: - -"Henrietta, before you move one step further, you must answer me -this question--are we in future to be friends or foes?" - -"Not foes! Oh! certainly, not foes!" Henrietta stammered, taken -quite aback by the suddenness of the question. "Oh! certainly, -not foes!" - -"Because I cannot endure this uncertainty much longer," he went -on as if he had not heard her. "I must have an answer, and that -soon. I might, indeed, insist upon your own letter, but I will -not. It was written under a sudden impulse, and the word that -gives you to me for a wife must be said with a calm consciousness -of its import. What shall that word be, Henrietta--yes or no?" - -"Yes, if you will have me," she said, in a low voice, -half-turning away her head as she did so. - -"If! So long and so faithfully as I have loved you, and do you -still talk of _if?_" he answered, almost reproachfully. - -"There is an 'if,' however," said Henrietta; "and when you have -heard me out, you will have to decide the question for yourself." - -"Nay, the only 'if' for me is the 'if' that you really love me," -he replied wistfully, and in a way which showed he felt by no -means certain upon that score. - -"That is the very thing," she answered, flushing scarlet. "Harry, -dear Harry, remember that I have never had a mother's care, and -promise to be still my friend, even if what I have got to tell -you should alter all your other wishes in my regard." - -"What can you have to say that could do that?" he asked -impatiently. "For God's sake, Henrietta, say it out at once, -whatever it may be!" - -"It is not so very easy, perhaps," she said in a low voice. And -then she added quickly: "They call me a woman grown, Harry, and -yet in some few things I think that I am still almost a child." - -"In a great _many_ things rather, I should say," he could -not resist saying, with a smile. - -That smile reassured her, and she went on quickly: "You know that -it has never been a new thing to me to consider myself your wife, -Harry. My father has treated me from childhood as your affianced -bride, and we have played at being wedded in the nursery. You -cannot be surprised, therefore, if in my feelings toward you -there has been something of unquestioning security, which does -not enter usually, I think, into the relations in which we stood -toward each other. This kind of sisterly feeling--oh! do not -look so cross, Harry," she cried, suddenly stopping short, "or I -shall never be able to go on." "Do not talk of sisterly feeling, -then," he answered moodily, "for _that_ I cannot bear." - -{750} - -"I need not, for I do not feel in the least like a sister to you -now," she answered, with a pretty _naïveté_, that made him -almost depart from the attitude of cold seriousness in which he -had elected to receive the confessions of his betrothed. He -checked the impulse, however, and signed to her quietly to -proceed. - -"You know, for you were with us at the time," she accordingly -went on, "how much I was charmed with this wild western land when -my father first brought me hither. You know, too, of my -indignation when I found that the real owner had been deprived of -it in order to our possession. True, I had heard before of the -law of transplantation enacted for the benefit of our army, but -not until it stared me in the face as an act of private -injustice, done for the enrichment of myself, did I thoroughly -appreciate its iniquity. From that moment the very abomination of -desolation seemed to me to rest upon this land, which I had once -felt to be so beautiful. I grew angry and indignant with all the -world--with my father chiefly, but with you also, Harry, because, -though I acquitted you of all active share in the robbery, I yet -felt that it was your character as a good officer, capable of -holding it against the enemy, which had encouraged him to commit -it. From dwelling upon the injustice, I went on almost -unconsciously to question of its victim. At first, however, I -only thought of him with a sort of contemptuous pity, as of a -half-tamed savage wandering sadly among the hills which had once -been his own. But one day I met him. You remember that evening -when I returned home so late, that you and my father became -alarmed and went out to seek me? I told you then that I had lost -my way, but I did not tell you that it was the O'More who had -helped me to regain it, and who, finding I was nervous at the -lateness of the hour, had walked back with me nearly to the -gates. He was a gentleman, there was no mistaking that; and there -was something so foreign in his look and accent, that I never -even dreamed of him as the owner of the Rath, until I asked him -to come in and make the acquaintance of my father. Then--I can -hardly tell you in what words, but I know that they were -courteous, and that I felt them to be all the more cutting for -that reason--he told me WHO he was. In my surprise and shame, I -tried, I believe, to stammer out something like an apology for -the wickedness of which he had been the victim; but he cut me -short with a cold, quiet smile, pointed to the gate, which we had -by this time almost reached, saluted, and so left me. Harry, from -that moment, wild dreams began to float through my brain as to -how I might restore him to his own. There was one way, and only -one way, in which, as a woman, I could do it. Remember, I was not -yet seventeen, dear Harry." - -"I have need to be reminded of it," he answered bitterly, "when I -am forced to listen to such things as you are saying now." - -"And yet I loved you all the time, Harry; I did, indeed," she -answered in a low, earnest voice. "I loved you, although I think -I knew it not--should never, perhaps, have known it quite, if we -had not at last quarrelled and parted, as I thought, for ever. In -the first keen suffering which that parting caused me, my heart -woke up all at once to a true knowledge of itself, and I felt -that, dormant as my love for you had been, it had yet become so -deeply rooted in my whole being that by no effort of my own will, -(and you know that it is a pretty strong one, Harry,") she added -with a faint smile--"by no effort of my own will could I have -transferred it to another." - -{751} - -"Go on," said Harry, now smiling in his turn, for she had paused -in a little maidenly confusion at this full and frank avowal of -her sentiments in his regard--"go on, for I can listen to you -with patience now, Ettie." - -"I never dreamed again, Harry, of any other than yourself," she -answered softly; "and When, the day after your departure, I went -to Clare Island to warn him of a coming danger, (but not, I do -assure you, with any other motive,) I saw at once that if he ever -cared for any woman in the world, it was, or soon would be, -Nellie Netterville. It did not grieve me that it was so, but I -confess it wounded my woman's vanity a little, and for a moment I -felt inclined to be angry with her. But I was ashamed of the -pitiful feeling, and for the first time in my life, perhaps, I -tried to conquer my evil passions. In this her sweet, quiet -frankness greatly helped me, and her forgetfulness or forgiveness -of the great injury I, or at all events, my father, had inflicted -on her, made me blush for my own unkindness. If ever you take me -for a wife, Harry, and that you find me a more manageable one -than I have given you reason to expect, remember that you will -owe it entirely to her example." - -"Nay, nay! not entirely!" here interposed Harry, "for the sun -shines in vain upon a barren soil." - -"And now," continued Henrietta, regardless of the compliment, -"can you forgive me, Harry? Believe me, you know all, I have told -you the truth, and the whole truth. I would not deceive you in -such a matter for the world." - -"My love, I believe you, and I am more than satisfied," he -answered in a tone of trustful tenderness which left no room for -doubting in Henrietta's mind. - -"And, Harry," she added pleadingly, "our home that we have left -in England is as pleasant, if not so sublime, as this, and we can -call it, at all events, honestly our own!" - -"Some day, dear Ettie, we will go there; and should your father's -death ever place these lands at our disposal, we will leave them -to their rightful owner." - -"O Harry! how could I doubt you?" she said remorsefully. "Can you -ever forgive me for it?" - -"Yes, if you will never doubt again," he answered with a bright -smile. "But, hark! the bugle sounds, and yonder is Roger and his -wife talking to old Norah at the tower-gate." - -Henrietta looked in that direction, and she saw that Nellie was -taking leave of the old woman, who had flung herself at her feet, -and was sobbing bitterly. This much she could guess from the -attitude and action of both parties; but she could not guess the -infinite delicacy and feeling which Nellie contrived to put into -that last farewell, nor yet the reverent admiration with which -Roger watched his young wife, as, silencing her own deeper -sorrows, she soothed the old woman's clamorous grief over the -departure of her hereditary chieftain and his bride, "her -beautiful, darling, young honey of a new mistress!" - -Nellie was still occupied in this manner when the bugle once more -sounded. The soldiers, who at the first summons had mustered -together under the command of Hamish, instantly put themselves -into motion, and, with flags flying and pipers playing, marched -past the tower, saluting Roger as they did so, and coming down to -the place of embarkation amid the wails of music which, martial -and spirit-stirring in the beginning, had died gradually away -into such wild, plaintive strains as best befitted the thoughts -of men who were leaving their native land for ever. -{752} -Another moment, and Nellie threw herself into Henrietta's arms, -and the two girls sobbed their farewells in silence. Then some -one separated them almost by force, there was a short bustle of -departure and a clashing of oars, and when Henrietta could see -again through her blinding tears, Nellie had nearly reached the -ship which was to convey her to her new home; while over the -crested waves came the voices of the soldier-emigrants singing -that farewell song which rang so often and so sadly in those days -along the coasts of Ireland, that it has left, unhappily, many an -echo _still_ to wake up thoughts of bitterness and distrust -in the minds and memories of her living people. - -Years afterward, when Henrietta was a happy wife and mother in -her quiet English home, and her friends, thanks to her generosity -and her husband's, were once more settled in that western land -which was dearer to them than all the shining kingdoms of the -earth, the music of that wild "Ha-till" would strike at times -suddenly on the chord of memory, and she would weep again almost -as bitterly as she had wept upon that late autumn morning when, -floating over the waters of Clew Bay, came those voices to her -ear, sadly singing: - - "Mute in our grief, our fortunes broken. - Land of Eire, [Footnote 221] farewell, farewell! - Sad is that word--half-wept, half spoken-- - Sad as the sound of the passing bell. - Ha-till, ha-till! we return no more, - Eire, beloved, to thy winding shore! - - "Ever in dreams to see thee weep! - Ever to hear thy wail of pain! - Bitter as death, and as dark and deep. - The grief that we carry across the main. - Ha-till, ha-till! we return no more, - Eire, beloved, to thy winding shore! - - "Happy the dead who have died for thee! - More happy the dead who died long ago! - Who never in sleep had learned to see - The grief and shame that have laid thee low. - Ha-till, ha-till we return no more, - Eire, beloved, to thy winding shore. - - "Farewell! we have poured out our blood like rain, - We asked for naught but a soldier's grave; - Yet say not thou we have sought in vain. - While foes confess that thy sons are brave. - Ha-till, ha-till! we return no more, - Eire, beloved, to thy winding shore." - - [Footnote 221: The ancient name for Ireland.] - - - The End. - ---------------- - -{753} - - - The Holy Shepherdess of Pibrac, - - Canonized By Pope Pius IX. In 1867. - - -In the latter part of the sixteenth century, beneath the walls of -Toulouse, bloomed, almost unseen and unknown, a little flower of -the fields, whose delicate chalice emitted a perfume scarcely -perceptible to mortal sense. It passed away, and seemed -forgotten; but its odor still lingered where it had blossomed; -and after a few years had gone, its dust was gathered into the -sanctuary, that the holy place might be filled with the celestial -fragrance. - -Germaine Cousin was born at Pibrac, a village of nearly two -hundred families in the environs of Toulouse, about the year -1579. The parish church was dependent on the great Priory of the -Knights of Malta in that city. The chateau belonged to the Du -Faur, Lords of Pibrac. The actual proprietor was Guy, famous at -once as an orator, a poet, and a successful courtier. Once the -proudest remembrance of the place was the visit of Catharine de -Medicis and her daughter, Margaret of Navarre, who were -magnificently entertained by the Lord of Pibrac. But now the -visit of the two queens, and the fame and opulence of the great -orator, are nearly forgotten; while the memory of our holy -shepherdess has lived for nearly three centuries in the hearts of -all the inhabitants of Pibrac. The chateau is a forsaken ruin; -but the church has become a place of pilgrimage, because Germaine -prayed beneath its arches, and there found a tomb. - -Her father was a poor husbandman, to whom tradition gives the -name of Lawrence. Her mother's name was Marie Laroche. From the -first moment of her existence, she seemed destined to suffering -and affliction. She was infirm from her birth, being unable to -use her right hand, and afflicted with scrofula. While yet a -child, she became motherless; and, as if these were not trials -enough to accumulate at once upon the head of one so frail, her -father did not long delay to fill the vacant place on his hearth. -Absorbed in her own children, this second wife, instead of -pitying the hapless orphan whom Providence had confided to her -care, conceived an aversion for her. But the trials to which -Germaine was subjected were proofs of the divine favor. To them -she was indebted for the brilliancy of her virtues, especially -humility and patience. - -As soon as she was old enough, her step-mother, who could not -endure her presence at home, sent her forth to guard the flocks. -This was her occupation the remainder of her life. But even in -the depths of her lonely life, our shepherdess created for -herself a more profound solitude. She was never seen in the -company of the young shepherds; their sports never attracted her; -their jeers never disturbed her thoughtful serenity; she only -spoke sometimes to girls of her own age, sweetly exhorting them -to be mindful of God! - -We know not from whom Germaine received her first religious -instructions--what hand, friendly to misfortune, revealed to her -the great truths of salvation. Doubtless, it was the curé of the -parish; for holy church despises not the meanest of her children; -and her sagacious eye is quick to discover the chosen of God. -{754} -But, whoever it was, he did but little, and there was little to -be done. God himself perfected the religious training of his -handmaiden. She early learned what must for ever remain unknown -to those who do not recognize in him the fountain of all wisdom. -Living amid the wonders of creation, she contemplated them with -the intelligent eye of innocence. Blessed are the pure in heart, -for they shall see God--see him in the brilliant stars, the -burning sun, the unfathomable heavens, and the changing -clouds--see him in the flowers and plants that cover the surface -of the earth! Germaine learned from the open book of nature a -wondrous lore; and her attuned ear caught and comprehended that -mysterious, anthem of praise, which, floating through creation, -is unheard by more sinful man. Her pure soul united in the -eternal song: _Benedicite omnia opera Domini Domino: laudate et -superexaltate eum in saecula!_ - -Although Germaine was a poor infirm orphan, subjected to the -heavy yoke of a severe step-mother, and exposed by her occupation -to the inclemency of the weather, she bore all her trials with -cheerfulness, never brooding over her sorrows. One of the -characteristics of the saints which particularly distinguishes -them from ordinary Christians, is, _the use made of the common -occurrences of life_. They share in common with other men, and -often in a greater degree, the trials common to humanity; but -they are chastened, purified by them, and they look upon the -afflictions of this life as a means of assimilating them to Him -who was a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief. Even in the -manifest ill treatment and injustice of the malignant and wicked, -they disregard the channel, but accept the suffering, as a means -of perfection. - -The extent to which this principle is carried, is peculiarly -Catholic; and, in reading the lives of our saints, we cannot but -be struck by it. They never struggled against their trials, and -therefore were cheerful under them; for the greater part of our -wretchedness proceeds from struggling against the current of -life. This is the key to the saying of Fénélon: _Non-resistance -is a remedy for every ill._ - -The paternal roof was not for Germaine, as for most--even the -most wretched--a refuge and a place of repose. And yet neither -her poverty, nor sorrows, nor infirmities, could have rendered -her insensible to that which surpasses all the other pleasures of -life--the happiness of being loved. By a divine foresight, God -has placed in the hearts of parents, by the side of that fount of -love for their offspring, a well of singular tenderness for the -unfortunate child, the black lamb of the flock. This peculiar -love Germaine had not. She had not even the legitimate share of -her father's heart. She was denied a place at the fireside; she -was hardly allowed shelter in the house. Her step-mother, -irritable and imperious, would send her away to some obscure -corner. She was not permitted to approach the other -children--those brothers and sisters whom she loved so tenderly, -and whom she was always ready to serve without manifesting any -envy on account of the preferences of which they were the object, -and she the victim. The inflexible harshness of her step-mother -obliged the infirm girl to seek a place of repose in the stable, -or upon a heap of vine branches in an out-house. - -{755} - -But Germaine knew too well the value of sufferings not to accept -with joy these humiliations and this injustice. And, as if her -cross were yet too light, she imposed upon herself additional -austerities. During the greater part of her life, she denied -herself all nourishment but bread and water. - -So great a conformity to her poor, suffering, and persecuted -Saviour, kindled in the heart of Germaine an ardent love for his -adorable humanity. Notwithstanding her feebleness and other -obstacles, she assisted every day at the Holy Sacrifice of the -Mass. Even the obligations of her calling could not keep her from -church at that hour. Confiding in God, she left her flock in the -pasture, and hastened to the foot of the altar. It is a misguided -piety which induces us to neglect the duties of our state of life -in order to satisfy our devotion; but with Germaine this was the -result of prompt obedience to a special inspiration. She knew who -would guard her sheep; while she, poor lamb of Christ's flock! -went to refresh herself at the fountain of living water. - -Even when her sheep were feeding close by the wood of Boucone, -which skirted the fields of Pibrac, and abounded with wolves, at -the sound of the church bell she would plant her crook or her -distaff in the ground, and hasten to the feet of the divine -Shepherd. At her return, she always found her sheep unharmed. Not -one was ever devoured by the wolves, nor did they ever stray into -the neighboring fields. - -Long after St. Germaine's death, the peasants of the hamlet -remembered the unearthly brightness of her face as, week after -week, she approached the holy sacraments. - - "A celestial brightness, a more ethereal beauty, - Shone on her face and encircled her form when, after confession, - Homeward serenely she walked with God's benediction upon her." - -In the Holy Eucharist she found a compensation for every grief. -That divine Spouse to whom she was pledged placed himself as a -seal upon her heart, thereby strengthening it to endure the -trials of life, and enriching it with such abundant grace that, -while dwelling at large in the great temple of nature, her life -gleamed before him, brightly, and purely, and constantly, like -the undying lamp of the sanctuary! - -Like all the saints, Germaine had a singular devotion to -Mary--that devotion so dear to the Catholic heart, and which is -considered by the fathers as a mark of predestination. The world -does not realize how much it has owed to Mary during these -eighteen hundred years; yet some, some of us know how dark and -almost unbearable it would be with its sorrows, and cares, and -privations, if over all were not diffused the beauty and -softness, the sweet charm of virginity and love, from the divine -face of Mary! - -To Germaine, the Ave Maria was another salutation of the angel -preluding the overshadowing of the Holy Ghost; and she murmured -the sacred words with infinite tenderness, above all, at the hour -when they are on every lip. As soon as she heard the Angelus -bell, which has three times a day, for six centuries, intoned the -Ave Maria between heaven and earth, it was remarked that, -wherever she might be, she immediately fell upon her knees as if -insensible to the incommodiousness of the place. - -The Rosary was her only book; and to her this devotion was no -vain repetition. "Love," says Lacordaire, "has but one word, and, -in saying that for ever, it is never repeated." - -{756} - - "Ever transformed to meet our needs. - Oft as Devotion counts her beads, - As if those beads had caught the light - In her celestial girdle bright, - But each with its own colors dight. - Thus, whensoe'er that prayer is heard, - Fresh thoughts are in each solemn word: - An orb of light comes from the skies - To kindle holy liturgies; - It gathers and gives back their rays. - Now turned to prayer, and now to praise." - -The love of God insensibly leads to the love of one's neighbor. -Germaine, when she could, used to draw around her the little -children of the village, and endeavor to explain to them the -truths of religion, and sweetly persuade them to love Jesus and -Mary. This little school, held in the shade of a thicket of the -lone fields, was a spectacle worthy of the admiration of angels, -and is a proof of the unselfishness of real piety, even in the -most lowly. - -Although the piety of Germaine produced a profound impression in -the village, yet the world is the same everywhere, and always -conceives a secret aversion to piety. It cannot avoid censuring -it in some way, however unobtrusive a piety it may be. Religion -imposes esteem upon the world, and the world avenges itself by -raillery. So the wits of Pibrac persecuted Germaine with mockery; -they laughed at her simplicity, and called her a bigot. - -But if God permits, for the perfection of the saints, that their -virtue be turned into ridicule, he knows, when it pleaseth him, -how to render them glorious in the eyes of the world. - -In order to reach the village church, Germaine was obliged to -pass the Courbet, a stream she generally crossed without -difficulty in ordinary weather; but after heavy rains, it was too -wide and deep to be passed on foot. One morning, as she was going -to church, according to her custom, some peasants who saw her -afar off stopped at a distance, and asked one another in a tone -of mockery how she would pass the stream, now so swollen by the -rain that the most vigorous man could hardly have stemmed the -torrent. Dreaming of no obstacle, and perhaps not seeing any, -Germaine approached as if none existed. ... O wonder of divine -power and goodness! As of old the waters of the Red Sea opened -for the passage of the children of Israel, so those of the -Courbet divided before the humble daughter of Lawrence Cousin, -and she passed through without wetting even the edge of her -garments. At the sight of this miracle, afterward often repeated, -the peasants looked at one another with fear; and from that time -the boldest began to respect the simple maiden whom they had -hitherto scoffed at. - -After having thus glorified the faith of Germaine by dissipating -the material obstacles to the performance of her duty, God wished -also to glorify her charity to the poor. - -If any one could believe himself exempted from the obligation of -charity and alms-giving, it was certainly our shepherdess. She -had no superfluities; she lacked even the necessaries of life. -What was there, then, to retrench, in her life of extreme -privation and severe penance? How economize the _reward_ of -her labor, which consisted only of a little bread and water? But -charity is ingenious; and, seeing only our suffering Lord in the -person of the poor, Germaine often deprived herself of a part of -the bread which was allowed for her nourishment, doubly glad to -give it to the hungry, and increase the treasure of her -privations. Such are the deeds of the saints which will one day -reproach us with terrible power! What will the rich man say when -he beholds, rising up to confront his hardness of heart, the alms -of Lazarus! - -{757} - -The pious liberality of Germaine made her an object of suspicion -to her step-mother, who, not divining her resources, accused her -of stealing bread from the house. One day she learned that -Germaine, who had just gone with the flock, carried in her apron -some pieces of bread. Furious, and armed with a cudgel, she -immediately ran after her. Some of the other inhabitants of -Pibrac happened to be on their way at this very moment to the -house of Lawrence Cousin. Seeing this woman almost beside herself -with passion, they divined her intentions, and hastened to -protect Germaine from the ill treatment with which she was -menaced. Overtaking the step-mother, they learned the cause of -her anger. Finding Germaine, she seized her apron, and instead of -bread, it was filled with bouquets of roses, although it was a -season when those flowers were not in bloom. Thus God confounded -the malice of her implacable enemy by renewing a miracle, -likewise wrought in favor of Saint Elizabeth of Hungary and other -saints. - -From this time, Germaine was regarded as a saint. Lawrence -Cousin, conceiving more tender sentiments toward this pious child -whom he had so little known, forbade his wife's annoying her any -more, and wished to give her a place in his house with the other -children. But Germaine, accustomed to suffering and loving -privation, besought him to leave her in the obscure place which -her step-mother had assigned her. - -It was now that Germaine attained and proved the perfection of -her humility. We must not consider it a trifling honor to have -been esteemed at Pibrac; nor a small reward to have had a place -at the fireside of Lawrence Cousin. Human nature is the same -everywhere. There is no theatre too small for ambition. We know -there are as many cabals for the first place in a village as for -the chief place in an empire. - -Perhaps it may not be entirely useless to speak of the exterior -of the blessed Germaine. The manners and customs of the remote -provinces of France retain so much of primitive simplicity, they -change so little year after year, and the people in these -localities have such a marked appearance, that we may form a -reasonable idea of her person and habits. - -She is represented in paintings and engravings as we see scores -of shepherdesses in the south of France at this day--seated on a -hillock in the fields, and surrounded by her flock. With a -spindle in her hand, and under her arm the distaff laden with -flax, she is spinning, after the primitive manner of that -country. She is rather below the medium size, and is slight in -form. She has the long head of the Toulousains, and their dark, -Spanish complexion and eyes. The face, half hidden by the -picturesque scarlet capuchon, is expressive of silence, -_interior_ silence; and forcibly speaks of the deep, deep -calm within. A pleasing sadness, or rather a subdued joy, veils -her face. There is an introspective look about the eyes which -shows that her spirit has passed the bounds of sense, and is -concentrated in one mysterious thought--some dream of a heavenly -world. Sitting alone, away from her kind, her thoughts were pure -and holy and bright, like the fragrant flowers of her own green -meadows. She must have seemed to the other peasants like some -phantom of unearthly love, as she sat there enveloped in a divine -ethereal atmosphere. -{758} -In the distance rise the towers of the church, and the antique -château of the Lords of Pibrac, and between murmurs the Courbet. -Over all, is the sunlight of her own bright clime. - -Perhaps the miracle of the roses is the most popular -representation of Saint Germaine, as something not quite so -unearthly. There is no mystery about the look of the fierce -step-mother, as with one hand she raises the cudgel over the head -of the resigned-looking girl, and with the other grasps the apron -from which tumble out the bright and fragrant flowers. The face -of Germaine is somewhat sad, and her eyes are cast down in fear -to the earth. Tremulous and mute she stands before her -step-mother, for she is humble and sore afraid. There is a -reflective charm about her of which she is wholly unconscious, -for it emanates from that spiritual beauty visible only to the -intelligences and bright ardors around the throne. - -Saint Germaine died soon after the miracle of the roses. Almighty -God, having sanctified her by humiliations and sufferings, -withdrew her from this world when men, becoming more just, began -to render her the honor her virtue merited. She terminated her -obscure and hidden life by a similar death, but according to -appearance this terrible moment, which confounds human arrogance, -gave her no terror or pain. - -One morning, Lawrence Cousin, not seeing her come out as usual, -went to call her where she slept--under the stairs. She made no -reply. He entered and found her upon her bed of vine-branches. -She had fallen asleep while at prayer. God had called her to -enjoy the reward of eternal life. She had ceased to suffer. - -It was about the commencement of the summer of the year 1601 that -Saint Germaine entered into the joy of her Lord. She was -twenty-two years of age. - -That same night two pious men were overtaken near Pibrac by the -darkness of night, and obliged to await the return of day in a -neighboring forest. All at once, in the middle of the night, the -woods were flooded with a light more brilliant than the dawn, and -a company of virgins, clothed in white garments and surrounded by -a dazzling light, floated by on the darkness toward the house of -Lawrence Cousin. Soon after they returned, but there was another -in their midst--more radiant still--who had on her head a chaplet -of fresh flowers. ... - -People came in crowds to her funeral, wishing to honor her whom -they had too long despised, whom too late they had known. This -was the first testimony of public veneration. Her body was buried -in the church in front of the pulpit. Forty-three years after, it -was found entire and preserved from corruption. It had been -embalmed with her virginal purity. In her hands were a taper and -a garland of pinks and heads of grain. The flowers had scarcely -faded. The grain was fresh as at the time of harvest. - -The holy body was removed and finally placed in the sacristy, -where people of all ranks, incited by the wonders wrought at her -tomb, came to offer their homage. - -In 1843, more than four hundred legally attested miracles had -been wrought at her shrine, and so excited the faith of the -people in her power before God, that the Archbishop of Toulouse, -and nearly all the other prelates of France, petitioned the Holy -See for her beatification. It had been desired before the French -Revolution, but it was not attempted till the time of Gregory -XVI. - -{759} - -When the commissioners went to examine the condition of the -remains of the venerable Germaine, a most extraordinary scene -took place. The inhabitants of Pibrac, thinking that the -beatification of their shepherdess might terminate in the loss of -their holy treasure, came in a body to the door of the church. -They received the commissioners with threats and even with -stones, so it was only with difficulty an entrance could be -effected into the church. The furious multitude followed, and the -examination was made in the midst of a frightful tumult. "No! -no!" was heard on all sides. "No beatification. St. Germaine -cures us when we are sick; that is enough. She belongs to us. We -wish to keep her." - -The brief for the beatification of Germaine Cousin was issued by -the order of his holiness Pius IX., on the 1st of July, 1853. - -The Triduo which was held at Pibrac, in 1854, in honor of this -event, manifested the joy and the faith of the people. Altars, -lighted up by the bright sun of France, were erected in the -fields once trod by the feet of Germaine, so that hundreds of -Masses could be offered at once. The whole country around poured -in. Toulouse seemed vacated. There were eighty thousand persons -assembled around that shrine. On the first day there were -fourteen thousand communicants. In the procession were eighteen -hundred young ladies robed in white. They all held white lilies -in one hand, and wax tapers in the other, and as they entered the -church and passed the altar, they deposited their tapers on one -side and their lilies on the other. Conspicuous in the procession -were those who had been healed by the intervention of the holy -shepherdess. Lights were in their hands, and they made an -offering of gratitude at the altar. - -The house in which the blessed Germaine had lived was endangered -during those days of religious triumph. It was in a tolerable -state of preservation, but every one seemed anxious to secure a -portion of the walls that once sheltered her, and especially of -the spot sanctified by the angel of death. - -A resident in the south of France at the time of the -beatification of Saint Germaine, as she was even then, with one -accord, called in that country, I was forcibly impressed with the -enthusiastic veneration and confidence with which she was -regarded by all classes. Every week I heard of some new miracle -at her tomb; so they soon ceased to excite wonder, and seemed to -belong to the established order of events. There was scarcely an -individual in my circle of acquaintance who had not been, at -least once, to prostrate himself at her shrine, and there was a -lively faith in her protection, which proved to me how strongly -the spirit of the middle ages still animates the hearts of the -faithful. - -So popular a devotion was a novelty to me--a "_native -American_"--but I could not long remain insensible to its -influence. One misty October day found me likewise an humble -pilgrim at the shrine of the holy shepherdess of Pibrac. - -The very air of that antique chapel inspires devotion. A -supernatural influence seemed to impregnate everything around me. -I saw, too, that I was not the only one who felt this subtle -influence penetrating to the very heart; for the faces of all the -pilgrims, priests, religious, and laymen of every rank who are -constantly arriving and departing, were indicative of a holy awe. -Though I got there at a late hour, and it was raining, Masses -were still being celebrated, and the church was full. It was no -festival. It was so every day. Masses were said at every altar -from early dawn till the latest canonical hour. -{760} -Prostrate groups from different parishes were always there, -clustered in the nave, or gathered about the shrine; and here and -there were lone pilgrims who, like me, had been brought from the -ends of the earth. And around and over all were constellations of -brightly burning tapers, emblematic of the prayer of faith, left -there by the pilgrim as loth he slowly left the hallowed -sanctuary. - -The tomb of Saint Germaine is in a side chapel, protected by a -grate. Her relics are covered with gold and silver and precious -stones, _ex votes_, which gleam in the light of the votive -candles around. Involuntarily there comes to the heart in this -fitting place, and to the lips, the strain, _Exaltavit -humiles!_ - -"Lord, behold, he whom thou lovest is sick!" is the cry of every -weary, sin-laden heart; above all here, where thou dost love to -display thy goodness and thy power. The sacred heart of thy -humanity, ever touched with feeling for our infirmities, is not -hardened. It is still as tender and as compassionate as when thou -didst weep over the grave at Bethany, and thy hand is as -powerful. I believe that thou, who art honored in thy saints, -dost heal here both soul and body of those who approach thee with -faith and with love, especially with _love_. "Many sins are -forgiven her, because she hath loved much," was uttered centuries -ago, but has been repeated times without number since, over -penitent, loving souls. O power of love over the divine heart! It -is only the cold, the feeble in faith, who have no power to draw -from this inexhaustible well of compassion. - -If every Catholic heart were, as it should be, a _chapelle -ardente_, all aflame with the love of God, how soon would the -spiritual infirmities of entire humanity be healed, and the -wounds of Christ's bleeding body be bound up! - -Reader! let the aspiration of divine love, indulgenced by our -sovereign pontiff on the 7th of May, 1854, in honor of the -beatification of Germaine Cousin, be often on our lips and in our -hearts: "Jesu, Deus MEUS, AMO TE SUPER OMNIA!" Jesus, my God, I -love thee above all things! - ----------- - -{761} - - - From The Latin Of Prudentius. - - An Elegy. - - -Aurelics Prudentius Clemens, the glory of the early Christian -poets, was born in Spain in the year 348. He studied eloquence in -his youth under a celebrated master. He was twice made governor -of provinces and cities, raised to the highest rank, and placed -at the court by the Emperor Theodosius I., next in dignity to his -own person. - -But in the vigor of his age, he quitted worldly honors and -employments, made a pilgrimage to Rome, and thence returning to -Spain, led a secluded life, consecrating his leisure to the -composition of sacred poems. He is esteemed the most learned of -the Christian poets, and, for the sweetness and elegance of his -verses, has been compared to Horace. - - - Venient citò saecula, quum jam - Socius calor ossa revisat, - Animataque sanguine vivo - Habitacula pristina gestet. - - Quae pigra cadavera pridem - Tumulis putrefacta jacebant, - Volucres rapientur in auras, - Animas comitata priores. - - Quid turba superstes inepta - Plangens ululamina miscet? - Cur tam bene condita jura, - Luctu dolor arguit amens? - - Jam moesta quiesce querela, - Lacrymas suspendite matres, - Nullus sua pignora plangat: - Mors haec reparatio vitae est. - - Sic semina sicca virescunt - Jam mortua, jamque sepulta, - Quae reddita cespite ab imo - Veteres meditantur aristas. - - Nunc suscipe, terra, fovendum, - Gremioque hunc concipe molli; - Hominis tibi membra sequestro, - Generosa et fragmina credo. - -{762} - - Animae fuit haec domus olim - Factoris ab ore create; - Fervens habitavit in istis - Sapientia, principe Christo. - - Tu depositum tege corpus; - Non immemor ille requiret - Sua munera fictor et auctor, - Propriique aenigmata vultûs. - - Veniant modò tempora justa, - Quum spem Deus impleat omnem; - Reddas patefacta necesse est, - Qualem tibi trado figuram. - - Non si cariosa vetustas - Dissolverit ossa favillis, - Fueritque cinisculus arens, - Minimi mensura pugilli; - - Nee si vaga flamina, et aurae - Vacuum per inane volantes - Tulerint cum pulvere nervos, - Hominem periisse licebit. - - - Translation. - - - The hour is speeding on amain - When back into its olden form, - Once more with ruddy life-blood warm, - The spirit shall return again. - - The freed soul soars aloft through space: - So, dust with dust, aloft through air, - This heavy clay swift gales shall bear - From its sepulchral resting-place.. - - Why doth the crowd surviving fill - The air with a lamenting vain? - Why with such idle griefs arraign - The justice of the Eternal will? - -{763} - - Oh! end these pangs with murmurs rife, - O mothers! cease your tears, your woe; - Weep not for your dead children so, - Death the renewal is of life. - - The dead, dry seed lies hid from view, - To burst forth to new glorious bloom; - The former beauty to resume, - The ancient harvest to renew. - - O earth! in thy soft bosom keep, - And quicken with new warmth this clay, - This sacred frame to rest we lay. - It smiles in thy embrace to sleep. - - 'Twas once the immortal spirit's cell. - That breath breathed from the lips divine; - Here was the living wisdom's shrine, - Here deigned the Christ supreme to dwell. - - Guard it beneath thy faithful sod, - For He, one day, will re-demand - From thee this labor of his hand. - This breathing likeness of its God. - - Oh! for the appointed hour to rend - The grave! the hope God gives is sure: - Safe, beauteous, through these gates obscure - What now descendeth shall ascend. - - Yes, though this frame divinely planned - Be wasted by decay and rust, - And naught left save a little dust. - The filling of the smallest hand: - - Though these strong sinews ashes be - On wandering breezes wafted wide, - Inviolate ever shall abide - The mortal's immortality. - - C. E. B. - ---------- - -{764} - - - Translated From Der Katholik. - - The Ancient Irish Church. - - -The history of the ancient Irish church, for many reasons, claims -our respectful attention. In the time of the migration of the -European races, this church had a great mission to accomplish -among the Germanic tribes. When the Goths had overrun Spain, the -Franks and Burgundians conquered Gaul, the Anglo-Saxons invaded -Britain, the Vandals spoiled Africa, and the Lombards gained -strongholds in Italy; when the Alemanni and Sueves had penetrated -into the valleys and claimed the mountains of ancient Helvetia; -who was it in those stormy times that elevated the moral -condition of those peoples, drew them out of the darkness of -German paganism, or converted them from Arianism; regenerated -them internally, civilized and incorporated them into the kingdom -of God, after they had devastated the provinces of the Western -empire, leaving ruins, deserts, confusion, and desolation behind -them in their plundering march? It was the missionaries of the -ancient Irish church that rescued Europe from the barbarism of -that period. Evidently sent by God, those Irish missionaries -founded new Christian colonies in different lands, hewed down the -forests, civilized the deserts, founded churches, schools, and -monasteries. As the Roman empire without the barbarians was -nothing but an abyss of slavery and rottenness, so would the -barbarians have been a wild chaos without the monks. The monks -and barbarians combined produced a new world which we call -Christendom. - -Germany also owes much to the missionaries of the ancient Irish -church. In the olden time Ireland was called the "island of -saints and sages;" as her people in our days receive from us the -honorable title of "martyr-nation of the west," for their -inflexible fidelity to their faith during three centuries of -shameless and brutal persecution. "No one but God in heaven knows -the number of the saints whose dust is mingled with Irish soil," -wrote one of the oldest Irish writers, the biographer of St. -Ailbe of Emly. We count, not by hundreds, but by thousands, the -holy Irish bishops, abbots, priests, monks, and virgins. Even in -the days of St. Patrick, and still more after his successful -apostolate, Ireland was not only a great training-school for -foreign missionaries, but a second Thebais, in which the -exercises of the spiritual life were thoroughly practised, and -where students could devote themselves in solitude to the study -of philosophy and holy writ under the ablest professors. Pious -men went from Britain, from the European continent, from France, -and even from Rome, to the classic and holy "island of saints," -to learn the doctrines of Christian perfection, literature, and -theology, in the renowned monasteries of the land of Columba and -Colombanus. - -Even to this day Ireland is specially favored by God. There are -no snakes in it or other venomous reptiles. The very dangerous -portion of the animal kingdom is entirely excluded from its -sacred ground; and all attempts to naturalize poisonous creatures -there have been unsuccessful. The old Irish rhyme reads: - -{765} - - "St. Patrick was a holy man, - He was a saint so clever, - He gave the snakes and toads his ban, - And drove them out for ever." - -Throughout Ireland there are great fields of wheat and grain of -every description, and many lakes. The climate is mild, and snow -so rare that cattle can graze in the fields all the year round. -Rain showers are frequent, and give such fertility and verdure to -the soil as no other land in Europe possesses, so that the island -is known as "Green Erin," or the "Emerald isle." The plants, -flowers, and trees of Ireland, in their shape, color, and -material, remind one somewhat of Normandy in France, or of -Asturia in northern Spain. - -The _History of the Ancient Irish Church_ has been just -presented to the public by an author who is in a better condition -than most of his contemporaries to write such a work, which -charms us more and more the more frequently we read it. We speak -of the recent work of the Bishop of St. Gall, Dr. Charles John -Greith, in which we recognize one of the greatest efforts of -German historical literature. We cannot, therefore, refrain from -imparting to our readers an epitome of the contents of this -remarkable and highly interesting production. The right reverend -author considers his work of four hundred and sixty-two pages as -an "Introduction to the history of the Bishopric of St. Gall." He -published the book on the commemoration and centenary of the -consecration of the cathedral of St. Gall, August 17th and 18th, -1867, and dedicated his literary effort to the chapter and the -clergy of his diocese. From early youth the distinguished author -has been familiar with the legends and history of St. Gall, and -studied them with love and veneration. Love for that great Irish -missionary saint, whose worthy successor Dr. Greith is, inspired -the work whose continuation we desire most earnestly. "St. Gall -has left behind him a world-wide reputation as the apostle of the -Swiss Alps. Centuries have not diminished his fame, which the -gratitude of Christians sanctions." - -Veneration for St. Gall has been spread far beyond the boundaries -of Switzerland; from the foot of the Alps to Upper Burgundy and -Alsace, even to the limits of the Vosges; then into Brisgau and -the Black Forest, to the Suabian Alps, and thence into Nibelgau, -and Algau. In all these regions, the monks of St. Gall imparted -the blessings of religion and education. Full of admiration for -the Christian zeal of St. Gall and his disciples, our author -recalls the words spoken by Ermenreich of Reichenau, to Abbot -Grimald of St. Gall, over a thousand years ago: "How could we -ever forget the island of Ireland, from which the rays of -Christian light and the sun of Christian faith have shone upon -us!" Taking this expression for his motto, the right reverend -writer gives us his magnificent _History of the Ancient Irish -Church and its Connection with Rome, Gaul, and Germany_. - -Divided into six books, the work describes in the two first the -migrations of the barbarians and the fall of the Roman empire; -then the heresies which swarmed in the church of the period; then -the school of the island of Lerins, where St. Patrick, the -apostle of Ireland, was instructed. The four last books are -consecrated to St. Patrick and his apostleship in Ireland; to St. -Columba, the apostle of Scotland; to St. Colombanus and his deeds -in France, Flanders, and the north of Italy; and to St. Gall, the -apostle of Germany. The sixth and last book treats of -Christianity and its customs in the Irish church. - -{766} - -The illustrious author made use of manuscripts as well as printed -works in the compilations of his history. Many manuscripts were -at his disposal in St. Gall itself. The original sources of -ancient Irish history consist of different materials; genealogies -which trace the origin of kings or saints and their relatives; -annals which give the year of the death of saints, or of other -distinguished characters; church calendars which give the day of -the month on which the death of a saint occurred; and finally, -the lives of the saints themselves. These biographies are -copiously used. We cannot restrain our desire to quote what the -author thinks of those sources of history. "Erudition is not -sufficient for us to judge the biographies of the ancient saints; -we must have sympathy with them in their zealous labor; and a -spiritual relationship in their faith. Every age must be judged -according to the ideas, and customs which prevail in it; and -every saint according to the circumstances in which he lives." -The poetic as well as the historical element, the legendary as -well as the authentic, must be combined in forming a correct -estimate of a saint's character. - -Even in the early part of the middle ages, every cathedral -church, large monastery, or distinguished hermitage, possessed -its hagiographers, who wrote the lives of the saints of the -place, either from authentic written documents, traditions, or -from knowledge acquired as eye-witnesses. Since John Moschus -published his collection of legends, extraordinary diligence in -the criticism and sifting of the ancient biographies of the -saints has been manifested in the church. The collection and -critical works of the Bollandists, of Lurius, Mabillon, d'Achery, -and others, keep their reputation undiminished to the present -day. These writers display such a thoroughness in their -researches, that the modern rationalists have been unable to find -a flaw of any consequence in their criticism. The truthful -historian must describe those apostles of religion and -civilization among the Germans, such as they were, children of -their century, representatives of its ideas, views, and manners. -Following this method, he will not cast doubt on the purity of -their motives, or try to lessen their merit in drawing entire -nations of barbarians out of the darkness of paganism and -immorality into the light of Christianity and virtue. The blind -party spirit of our times recognizes no justice, and modern -paganism is only satisfied when it can throw everything that is -noble and holy out of history. The modern pagans tear with scorn -the Holy Scriptures into shreds before our eyes, and subject to a -lawless criticism the ablest records of ecclesiastical history, -while they try to overturn every monument that might shelter the -weary pilgrims of earth on their road to heaven. - - - II. - -The most trustworthy documents regarding the first traces of -Christianity in Ireland, inform us that up to the time of Pope -Celestine I., (a.d. 422-432,) that country had not been -converted. Up to the year of our Lord 432, no Christian -missionary had trodden the soil of the island, or caused the -light of faith to shine over the hills and through the valleys of -green Erin. Palladius and Patrick were the first apostles, (A.D. -430.) It is true, several High-Church English writers have -endeavored to prove the establishment of an Irish church prior to -St. Patrick; but this theory is unsupported by any authentic -documents. -{767} -Besides, the attempt of those writers was prompted by the -partisan desire of proving an original separation in belief -between Ireland and Rome. Nevertheless, it is not improbable that -many non-commissioned Christians may have gone from Britain and -Gaul into Ireland before the year 430, and formed small -communities, or lived scattered among the heathens. "On the wings -of every day commerce, the flower-seeds of Christian faith must -have been borne to Erin from Britain and Gaul; as from the -earliest times direct business relations were kept up between -Nantes, other harbors of Armoric Gaul, and Ireland. To the -north-west of Gaul also came the Irish rovers, under the guidance -of some distinguished chieftain, in quest of plunder, and -frequently carried off Christians into captivity. In this way St. -Patrick, when a youth of sixteen years of age, was taken from the -coast of Armorica by the pirates of King Niall, and with many -thousand others detained in bondage, as he informs us himself in -his writings," (p. 86.) - -Besides the fact that there was no Irish church prior to St. -Patrick, though there may have been individual Christians in the -country, we must prove that the Christianity imported into -Ireland was Roman, and that her apostles received their mission -from the pope. Pope Celestine, in the year 431, sent Palladius, -deacon or arch-deacon of the Roman church, as the first -missionary. This apostolic man, who had long been casting his -eyes toward Britain and the other western islands of Europe, had -a double and very important task to execute in Ireland, namely, -to strengthen the dispersed Catholics in the faith, and to -evangelize the heathens. He landed in Hay-Garrchon, penetrated -into the interior of the country, baptized many, built three -churches in the province of Leinster; but, taken altogether, his -mission was unsuccessful, and he met with much opposition. "But -when Palladius understood that he could not do much good in -Ireland, he wanted to return to Rome, and died on the voyage, in -the territory of the Picts. Others say that he received the crown -of martyrdom in Ireland." - -What Palladius begun--but which God's providence willed to remain -incomplete--Patrick accomplished in sixty years of apostolic -labor. Him God chose as the instrument, and fitted him for this -holy work. That he received his commission from Rome from the -hands of Pope Celestine, A.D. 432, cannot be doubted; for the -fact is confirmed by a crowd of witnesses, both Roman and Irish. -We must, therefore, consider and reverence Patrick as the apostle -of the Irish people. - -All the early Irish annalists unanimously agree that his mission -began in the year 432, and that he died in 493--an apostleship of -sixty years! How great and glorious for him and for his people! - -Patrick was born A.D. 387, in Boulogne-sur-Mer, in modern -Picardy, and was of noble Roman origin. In his sixteenth year, in -a marauding expedition of an Irish clan called Niall, he was -carried prisoner to Armoric Gaul; thence to Ireland, and there -sold to a pagan officer named Milcho, whose swine he herded for -six years. After this, he escaped, and returned to his native -land. Having fully determined to consecrate himself to the -service of God, he went to Marmontiers, the monastery of St. -Martin of Tours, to study there the principles of Christian -science and perfection. -{768} -A few years after, he visited the happy island of Lerins, near -Marseilles, at that time one of the most famous schools in -Christendom, and met there, as fellow-students, the holy monks -Honoratus, Hilary, Eucherius, Lupus, and others. An interior -voice there told him that he should return to Ireland to preach -the Gospel in that country; and he therefore travelled from -Lerins to Rome, in order to represent to the holy see the -darkness of heathenism which brooded over Ireland. But, as the -apostolic see was not then in a condition to provide for the -Irish mission, Patrick went back to Gaul, and remained with St. -Germain of Auxerre, under whose guidance he made further progress -in holiness and learning. Such was his life up to the year 429. - -In this year he accompanied Bishop Germanus and Lupus to Britain, -who were sent by the pope to root out Pelagianism in that -country. Thus was Patrick prepared for his apostleship. - -It was then he heard of the mission of Palladius, and its -failure. (A.D. 431.) The holy Bishop Germanus cast his eyes on -Patrick, who knew the Irish language, people, and country from -personal observations. Did he not seem peculiarly fitted--sent, -in fact, from heaven, to undertake the conversion of the Irish -nation? - -Patrick, therefore, with the priest Legetius as his companion, -went to Rome, and received from Pope Celestine his blessing and -the necessary authority to undertake the task of converting -Ireland. It is hard to tell now whether he was consecrated bishop -by Celestine before his departure, or by Bishop Amatorex, of -Eboria, a city in north-western Gaul. He reached Ireland in the -first year of Celestine III. A life of continual triumphs began -for him. He was repulsed from the coast of Dublin: no matter; he -sailed for Ulster, and landed at Strangford. He converts the -chieftain Dicho and his whole house, and celebrates his first -Mass in Ireland in a neighboring barn. At the royal city of Tara, -he meets King Leoghaire, with all his clan; defends and explains -Christianity in their presence, and gains a victory over the -Druids. Dublach, a Druid and poet, is converted, and sings, for -the future, only hymns in the honor of the true God. The -daughters of the king, Ethana and Fethlimia, also bow to the yoke -of the Gospel, and consecrate their virginity to God, and many -other holy women follow their example. Thus, a happy beginning -was made in the island. - -Soon the converts number thousands. Everything succeeds; the -conversion of the Irish people was effected without persecution -or martyrs. Patrick frequented the national assemblies, and used -the occasion to preach to the multitudes. He destroyed idolatry -and idolatrous practices throughout the whole land, and built -churches to the living God on places that had hitherto been -dedicated to the worship of idols. Wherever he went, he baptized -crowds of men, provided the new Christian communities with -churches, made the most virtuous of his disciples priests and -bishops, and appointed them to govern the faithful, and extend -the reign of the Gospel. - -Thus did he labor year after year, going about preaching, -baptizing, and blessing, in Leinster, Ulster, Munster, and -Connaught; and everywhere his astonishing activity and self -sacrifice effected wonderful results. Everywhere the people were -ready and docile for the reception of Christianity. Divine -Providence wonderfully protected him from all danger. - -{769} - -But when the whole island was converted to Christ, congregations -formed, and churches erected in all parts of the country, St. -Patrick thought of building a metropolitan cathedral for the -primate of Ireland. He chose for this purpose the heights of -Admarcha, or Armagh, near which stood the old royal fortress of -Emania. After the building of his cathedral and the conversion of -the Irish, St. Patrick passed the remaining years of his life -partly at Armagh, partly at his favorite spot at Sabhul, where he -began his missionary career. He assembled a few synods, wrote his -_Confession_, as it is called, on the approach of death, and -was attacked by his last illness at Sabhul. When he felt his end -approaching, he collected his remaining strength, and endeavored -to go to Armagh, which he had chosen as the place of his burial; -but, warned by a voice from heaven, he returned to Sabhul, and -died there eight days after, on the 17th of March, 493. - - - - III. - -Let us now glance at the disciples and followers of this great -man. They followed up his work with such zeal and indefatigable -activity that, at the end of the sixth century, Christianity was -spread over all Ireland. We distinguish, in the Irish church, -"Fathers of the First Order," and "Fathers of the Second Order." -The holy men from Rome, Italy, Gaul, and especially from Wales or -Cambria, who followed St. Patrick as their leader, and aided him -in his labors, are the "Fathers of the First Order." Patrick -brought with him from Rome, in the year 432, nine assistants; in -the year 439, Secundinus, Auxilius, and Iserninus, were sent to -him from Rome. The two former of these, together with Benignus, -were present as bishops at the first synod of Armagh, in the year -456. Bishop Trianius, a Roman, another disciple of St. Patrick, -imitated so exactly the life of the great apostle, that his food -was nothing but the milk of one cow, which he took care of -himself. The first mitred abbot of Sabhul was Dunnius; and the -first bishop of Antrim was Leoman, Patrick's nephew. The oldest -Irish bishops appointed by Patrick, were Patrick of Armagh, Fiech -of Sletty, Mochua of Aendrun, Carbreus of Cubratham, and -Maccarthen, of Aurghialla. Seven nephews of St. Patrick, who -followed him from Cambria, are invoked in the Irish litanies as -bishops. They are the sons of Tigriada, Brochad, Brochan, -Mogenoch, Luman; and the sons of Darercha, Mel, Rioch, and Muna. -When the heathen Anglo-Saxons conquered Britain in the year 450, -and sought to destroy the old British church, many learned and -pious men fled to Ireland, and joined Patrick. Thirty of them -were made bishops, and devoted themselves to the special task of -converting the neighboring islands. The most renowned of these -Welsh missionaries are Carantoc, Mochta of Lugmagh, and Modonnoc, -who introduced the rearing of bees into Ireland, where they had -never been seen before. Three companions of St. Patrick--Essa, -Bitmus, and Tesach--were expert bell-founders, and makers of -church-vessels. The fact that Patrick was sent from Rome, that -his first assistants were Romans, and that his co-laborers from -Gaul and Britain were sons of the Roman church, completely -destroys the Anglican hypothesis of an Irish church independent -of Rome. -{770} -Even Albeus, who, on account of his services, was called the -second Patrick, Declau, and Ihac, the apostles of the Mumons; -Enna, or Enda, the founder of the great monastery of Aran; -Condland, Bishop of Kildare, all disciples of St. Patrick, were -educated and consecrated bishops in Rome. There also were Lugach, -Colman, Meldan, Lugaidh, Cassan, and Ciaran, consecrated and -afterward numbered among the earliest bishops and fathers of the -Irish church. - -From the time of St. Patrick, continual communication was kept up -between Rome and Ireland by countless pilgrims, as many documents -attest, (Greith, p. 142-156.) Patrick left his love and reverence -for the Apostolic See of Peter as a precious legacy to his -immediate disciples; and they, in turn, to their successors up to -the present day. The frequent pilgrimages of Irish bishops, -abbots, and monks, are facts so well proven, that the Anglican -theory of a separate Irish church is shown to be a pure -invention, no longer contended for as truth by any respectable -historian. - -Let us now pass to the fathers of the second order in the Irish -church, and their illustrious foundations. The founders of those -numerous Irish monasteries, which counted their inmates by -hundreds and thousands, those men who were mostly brought up by -the immediate successors of St. Patrick, belong to the "Second -Order of Irish Fathers." Twelve of them, instructed by the -renowned Abbot Finnian, at Clonard, are called the twelve -apostles of Ireland. At their head stands Columba, the apostle of -the Picts, shining among them like the sun among the stars. Their -names are, Columba, of Iona, Corngall, of Bangor, Cormac, of -Deormagh, Cainech, of Achedbo, Ciaran, of Clonmacnoise, Mobhi, of -Clareinech, Brendan, of Clonfert, Brendan, of Birr, Fintan, -Columba, of Tirgelass, Molua Fillan and Molasch, of Damhs-Inis. -These holy men erected all over Ireland and in the adjacent isles -churches and convents, which became centres of art, learning, and -sanctity. The monastery of Clonard, founded in Meath by Abbot -Finnian, contained during his lifetime three thousand monks. At -Clonmacnoise, a monastery founded by St. Ciaran, in the middle of -Ireland, agriculture was made a special study; and Monastereven -on the Barrow, Monasterboyce in the valley of the Boyne, -Dearmach, etc., were renowned institutions. These first and -oldest Irish monasteries were not large, regularly-built houses, -but composed of numbers of separate cells or huts, made of -wicker-work, stalks, and rushes. The church or oratory stood in -the midst of the huts, and was made of the same material. It was -at a later period that the Roman architecture was introduced into -Ireland; and then stone edifices took the place of the primitive -structures. Special mention is always made in the Irish annals of -the erection of a stone church, for the people preferred wooden -buildings, and their preference shows itself up to the twelfth -century. The stone churches were looked upon as the fruit of -foreign architecture, as St. Bernard informs us in his life of -St. Malachy. The Roman church gradually introduced into Ireland -the fine arts and a higher order of architecture, as she had done -at an earlier date in Gaul and Britain. Choral singing became -usual. The church hymns took the place of the Druidical -rhapsodies; and the muses of Inisfail forgot to sing of heroes, -and learned to tune their harps to sing the praise of Christ and -his saints. - -The Irish missionaries reclaimed barren lands and made them -fertile, ameliorated the condition of agriculture, spread -commerce, and discovered new islands in the sea. Many of the -Irish saints, at the period of which we are writing, were great -navigators. - -{771} - -Dr. Greith paints in glowing colors the life of St. Columba and -his labors in Ireland, the Hebrides, and Scotland, as well as the -discipline and rules of the Abbey of Hy, which was founded by -him. We cannot enter into details, but refer the reader to Dr. -Greith's book. Columba was born on the 7th of December, 521. In -the first half of his life, Ireland was the scene of his zeal; -the second half was spent among the Scots and Picts. In Ireland -he founded Durrow, Derry, and Kells. He went with twelve -disciples to Caledonia in the year 563. Christianity among the -Scots had degenerated; and the Picts were still pagans. The king -of the Picts, Brudrius, gave him the island of Iona or Hy, where -his works began which God crowned with wonderful success. He soon -became the beacon light for all the faithful priests and laity of -Ireland and Caledonia. He visited Ireland to counsel his noble -relatives, settle their disputes, or oversee the churches and -monasteries which he had established, and travelled among the -Picts preaching the Gospel, founding monasteries, and erecting -churches which should consider Iona as their mother. He built -thirty-two churches, to most of which monasteries were attached, -in Scotland; and eighteen among the Picts, in the space of -thirty-three years, (563-597.) Even during his lifetime he was so -celebrated that, from all sides, princes, nobles, bishops, -priests, monks, and the faithful of all classes ran to him for -counsel in their difficulties, consolation in their distress, and -help in their necessities. Columba fought against the -superstition of the Picts, the cunning of their magicians, and -the wickedness of lawless men. Princes' sons, whose fathers had -lost their lives and crowns in battle, went to Iona to lay their -grievances before Columba, and to each one according to his need, -the saint gave consolation and hope. The common people brought -their children to him, to ask him to decide their vocation. It -was not an unusual spectacle to see kings and nobles lay aside -the insignia of their greatness at Iona, and break their swords -before its altars. Columba's prayers were very powerful. His -blessing controlled the elements and the forces of nature. He -seemed to rule nature as a lord. He had also the gift of -prophecy. He died June 9th, A.D. 597. His departure from life was -made known to many holy men in different parts of Ireland and -Scotland at the same time, who declared that "Columba, the pillar -of so many churches, had gone to-night to the bosom of his -Redeemer." The isle of Iona was illuminated by a heavenly light, -emanating from the countless angels who came down to take up the -happy soul of the saint to the bosom of his God. - -The Irish monasteries increased wonderfully during the sixth -century. Finnian's monastery at Clonard, as already mentioned, -contained 3000 monks; and that of Bangor and Birr had the same -number; St. Molaissi had 1500 monks around him; Colombanus and -Fechin had each 300; Carthach, 867; Gobban, 1000; Maidoc, -Manchan, Natalis, and Ruadhan, each 150; Revin and Molua were -each the head of several thousand. There was no common rule for -all those convents, like that which St. Benedict wrote for the -religious of his order, (A.D. 529.) Each monastery had its own -laws. Columba had made no special rule for Hy or for his other -monasteries. St. Colombanus was the first who collected and -methodized the customs and traditions of Irish monastic life. - -{772} - -A thorough investigation of the most ancient custom of the Celtic -church, proves that it was in communion with the church of Rome. -The trivial differences between the two churches regarded neither -dogma, nor morality, nor the essentials of the Liturgy, of the -Mass, or the Blessed Sacrament. The supremacy of the pope was -recognized by all the Irish; and the celibacy of the clergy -observed as in the other Western churches. In the ceremonies of -the Mass, it is true, there were certain usages and forms -observed not Roman, as was the case also in the churches of Spain -and Gaul. The rites of baptism in the Irish church were simpler -than those of the Roman. The difference mainly consisted in the -style of the tonsure and in the time of celebrating the Easter -festival. The Irish and Britons did not keep the reckoning of the -Abbot Dionysius the Little, as he is styled, regarding Easter, -and tenaciously clung to the old Roman calculation. Every -departure from it seemed to them contrary to the traditions of -their fathers. It was only in the year 716, and after hard and -bitter fighting, that perfect union between Rome and Ireland was -effected in this particular. - -The history of the Irish, as well as of the British church, is of -the greatest importance for Germans who want to know the origin -of Christianity in their own land. But we shall develop this -point in a second article. - ----------------- - - European Prison Discipline. - - I. -- Newgate. - - -We take pleasure in offering to American readers the following -record of a visit to Newgate, as exhibiting the enlightened -humanity shown in the treatment of public criminals in London. -The guide whom we have selected as the interpreter of Newgate's -mysteries is an imaginary personage. He expresses the -impressions, thoughts, and comments of several persons, not the -convictions of a single individual. - - - -This way, sir, please. Yes, the passages _do_ seem gloomy, -coming in out of the sunny street, crowded with free men hurrying -to and fro on business. Here we are in the kitchen; you see the -good allowance of meat and potatoes the prisoners have for dinner -four times a week; the other three days they have a good strong -soup instead of meat; morning and night a mess of oatmeal, and -with each meal half a pound of bread. Yes, they are well fed; -better here, many of them, than they would be outside. Just look -over your shoulder, sir. Through that low iron door behind you -the condemned prisoners pass out into the square to be hanged. -Why through the kitchen? Can't say, sir. It has always been so -and that's all, I suppose. Do they take it quietly for the most -part? Why--sometimes they give us a little trouble, but--yes, -generally they bear it pretty well, poor fellows! - -{773} - -More narrow passages, with grated rooms like aviaries on each -side. These are the apartments where the prisoners receive their -friends, separated from them by two gratings several feet apart. -It will remind you of the picture in _Old Curiosity Shop_, -where Mrs. Nubbles and Barbara's mother go to see Kit in prison. -A prisoner can receive a visit once in three months, write one -letter, and receive one; but they are seldom here so long. -Newgate is only a house of detention before trial, except for -those condemned to death--a mere jail. Here we are in one of the -great oblong halls with tiers of cells opening on to galleries. -Up this iron staircase in the middle of the hall and across this -little bridge, and we stand outside a cell door. In the American -prisons you have seen, you say that the cells open on a corridor, -with a grated door, and sometimes a grated window. Not so, here. -The door is solid, with merely a small hole for purposes of -_surveillance_, and a trap below it through which food, -etc., may be passed. If the prisoner wants anything, he rings a -bell, the action of which is curious. Fix your eye on the -bell-spring outside. I pull the bell inside and a tin flap flies -back, showing the number of the cell. Thus the officer knows what -bell has rung, and the prisoner, having no power over the flap -when it has once sprung back, cannot avoid discovery if he has -rung merely in order to give trouble. The cell is sufficiently -large, you see, and is lighted from the court-yard through that -arched window near the ceiling. A nice little room enough, with -the bedding stowed away on one of those shelves in the corner. On -the shelf below is the prisoner's bowl with the spoon lying on -it. Everything must be in its place. If the spoon were on the -shelf, it would be out of place; it must lie on the reversed -bowl. Resting against the wall is his plate, and on the lowest -shelf are his books. Oh! yes, you may examine them--the same in -all the cells, Bible, Prayer-Book, hymns, and psalms. [Footnote -222] The other volume comes from our library, and is changed -every day, if necessary> At this little turn-up shelf the -prisoner takes his meals, or reads by the small shade-lamp above -it. In the corner is a nice copper basin with plenty of water. -There are two apertures, one to admit warm air, the other for -ventilation; every comfort provided for him, you see. Yes, we -keep the prisoners entirely apart from each other, never two -together, unless some one comes here for drunkenness, and has -delirium tremens, and then we put two others with him for -safety's sake. Now we'll go up to the next corridor; in the one -below are the doctors' cells, where fresh prisoners are kept -until they have passed through a sanitary examination. - - [Footnote 222: Prisoners who do not belong to the Established - Church can be visited by a priest or by a dissenting - minister.] - -Step into this cell, occupied, as you see, by a mere boy. There's -his pile of oakum on the floor. Go on with your dinner, my man; -no need to stop for us. As we go up higher, more light comes in -from the courtyard; the upper cells are reserved for prisoners -who are likely to be here some time. The next cell occupied too, -you see, though we've not many prisoners here now, the trials -being just over. Yes, sir, this man is trying to educate himself -a little; has a dictionary on the shelf beside the -library-book--a volume of travels this time. Now that we are in -the corridor again, let me tell you that this same shock-headed -young man is condemned to ten years of penal servitude and twenty -lashes, for highway robbery with violence. The lashes are to be -received before he leaves Newgate, but more on that subject -presently. - -{774} - -Here we are in the old part of Newgate. In your reading, no doubt -you've come across the name of Mrs. Elizabeth Fry. It was in this -same long, dark room that she used to assemble the prisoners, and -read and pray with them. No, I have no means of judging of the -durability of her conversions. It is easy to talk of converting -criminals; but perhaps her chief merit lay in setting the example -in England of a friendly and trusting intercourse with these poor -wretches. Yes, it is strange to see the whipping-block in this -room, but indeed, sir, corporal punishment has become an absolute -necessity. It is never used to force prison discipline, but is -administered in execution of a sentence, imposed by a magistrate -for wanton violence. It is a curious fact that these brutes, who -go about garroting inoffensive travellers, breaking jaws and -skulls with their brass knuckles or dusters, as they call them, -are the veriest cowards on earth when physical pain comes to -themselves. In this very room they will cry like children, and -beg to be forgiven, I don't feel half the pity for them that I do -for the poor creatures going to be hanged. [Footnote 223] This -iron door survived the fire in the Gordon riots, you see. Come -through here, if you please, sir. This is another of the large -rooms in old Newgate, where prisoners were kept before the -solitary system came into vogue. The change is a most fortunate -one for all concerned, I'm confident. - - [Footnote 223: We are not fully convinced of the wisdom of - introducing the whipping-block once more into the honorable - company of penal inflictions in England. One of the most - satisfactory cases of reformation we have known among persons - guilty of grave crimes, was that of a "garroter." It is our - strong impression that corporal punishment would have - degraded him beyond all human hope of redemption. At least, - great care should be taken to keep the use of this instrument - of torture within the bounds of absolute necessity. - Imprisonment may soften the heart; perhaps many persons have - died well on the scaffold, who would have died impenitent - under other circumstances; but however great may have been - the number of spirits crushed by flogging in prisons, we - venture to doubt whether there is a single instance on record - of its having produced or aided reformation.] - -I've no question that many a crime was hatched here among the men -herded together in these cells. You can see for yourself what -kind of talk there would be among them. Perhaps some footman was -sent here for stealing his master's purse. What a chance for an -old hand to get a little useful information in a friendly way: -"Your master was an easy, comfortable kind of a man, was he? -Well, them well-to-do city-men mostly is easy-tempered. Not -partickerlerly well-to-do, an't he? Old family he belongs to, eh? -What lots o' plate some o' them poor noblemen do have! Wonder -myself that they don't sell it and get the good out on it, 'stead -of hiding it away at the banker's? Don't keep it at the bankers! -Pity the poor cuss as cleans it, then! Go to Brighton or Bath, of -course, when the season's over; I thought as much; it takes poor -folks to travel," etc., etc. And then, the first step after -getting out of Newgate would be to make love to the maid-servant -when the family was out of town. Very devoted he'd be, until some -evening he'd think it "such a pity there were no oranges in the -house, or something else to cool your mouth with; there was such -a nice, respectable place round the corner; wouldn't she just -step round there and choose something for herself?" And then, -while the the poor girl was gone, the accomplices, well -instructed as to the whereabouts of the plate, would ransack the -safe at their leisure. You may depend upon it, sir, it was a good -thing for society when the present discipline was adopted. - -{775} - -The little court-yard we are crossing now is one of those where -the prisoners take their exercise. Oh! yes, sir; they all have -regular times for exercise, and in these yards within the -building there is no possibility of their making their escape. I -am going to show one of our cells for solitary confinement. Let -me turn up the gas in this small room. You see this door which I -open, and again an inner door, which I open too. Step in, sir. -Now, turn so that your eye may catch the gaslight outside. Here -is a bedstead; you can feel it, if you don't see it. In this -cell, pitch-dark and cut off from the rest of the prison so -completely that no shouts or screams would be heard, unruly -prisoners are confined for any period between one hour and three -days, with only bread and water for food. There is ventilation -and warmth here, as in the other cells. The doctor comes each -morning to see that mind and body are sound. Only by sentence of -a magistrate can the confinement be prolonged beyond three days. -Yes, sir, it is an awful place; and then, too, the men look upon -it as sheer lost time. We have soldiers in here sometimes, and -they say that they can make up for three days on bread and water -in the guard-house, by spending their whole pay in eating and -drinking when they come out; but here it's just loss of rations, -and nothing else. You'll hardly ever catch an old thief in here. -"Oh! don't stop my grub, whatever you do," he'll say, and so he -takes care to behave well enough to keep out of "solitary." The -prisoners who mind it least are little ragamuffins, accustomed to -creep into any dark hole, to curl themselves up and go to sleep. -They are never afraid of anything. Decent boys, in prison on -suspicion of forgery or whatever, are dreadfully scared. But -you'll be glad to get out into the daylight again, I am thinking, -sir. - -I'll show you our chapel now. In that screened gallery the women -sit, where they can see everything without being seen. There is -divine service here every morning, as well as on Sundays. No, -sir; I've no authority to show you the female side of the prison, -which is quite distinct from ours, and has female warders, and a -committee of lady visitors. The system of female keepers works -perfectly well; but it would have been impracticable before we -adopted separate cells, because the talk among the prisoners was -such as no decent woman should hear. A wicked woman is a thousand -times worse than a bad man, and less intelligent, too. You see, -sir, a woman falls because she is either pretty, or silly, or -unprotected. Now, bad men and boys are often the most intelligent -of their class, and are selected as tools for that very reason, -by older rogues than themselves. It is one of the terrible -features of the case, that the country loses valuable servants in -these quick-witted outlaws. - -Here we come out upon the sloping passage, leading to the -criminal courts--Birdcage-walk, the old thieves call it. -Over-head we get the light through the open iron-work, you see. -Under the flags are buried all those who have been hanged, and -the initial letter of the name is scratched on the wall above the -grave. That iron door at the end leads to the court-rooms. Yes, -indeed, sir, some of the prisoners one learns to like best are -those awaiting execution here, educated men sometimes. Oh! yes; I -know the names that all these letters stand for. Muller lies -there. No, he was not much of a man, any way. Here's Courvoisier, -who murdered Lord Russell; he was my lord's valet. -{776} -Those five letters stand for five pirates. This one was a -coachman, who murdered a female in the city, and burned the -remains in his stable. Here's a man who killed his wife. Why, -yes, sir; there are a good many in here for wife-murder; -aggravating, I suppose, at times. That was an Italian, who killed -another female in the city. This man hung his own child in the -cellar. Oh! no, he was not insane; jealous of his wife, or -something of the sort, I believe. There are a good many more -here, but their cases were not so well known. Another court-yard -to be crossed, sir, and here we are in one of the condemned -cells. A good deal larger it is than the common cells, you see, -with a bedstead, a good-sized table, and a long bench. From the -time of his condemnation, the poor fellow is never left alone, -night or day; two officers take turn and turn about in staying -with him. Oh! certainly, sir, they talk with him; not about his -case, of course, but of any book they have been reading, or of -things outside the prison, and so on. The idea is not to let his -mind dwell much on what is before him, and so spare him all the -suffering we can. - -You are right, sir; it would be absolutely impossible to dispense -with capital punishment in this country. Murder is common enough -now, but I am confident it would be much more frequent if the -fear of death were withdrawn. Your professional thief -_never_ commits murder. All rogues have an especial line of -business. A house-breaker is never guilty of highway robbery; a -highway-man never picks pockets; and they none of them commit -murder. Now, sir, there is a deal of talk about the horrors of a -public execution, and the bad effect such a sight must have on -the people. Well, sir, I am of a different opinion. The people -who come to a hanging are the very scum of London. Some gentlemen -there are, too, I know, by the looks of the windows opposite; but -the crowd is chiefly made up of the mere scum and dregs of -London. I think, sir, it is a lesson to them, and a lesson they -need badly. Sometimes we say to the little ragamuffins who get in -here, "Did you ever go to a hanging?" "Yes, sir." "And what did -you think of it?" "Why, I wasn't in a very good place, sir; I -couldn't see much." "Well, don't you know that if you go on as -you're going now, you may come to commit murder one of these -days, and be hanged yourself?" "Oh! no, sir! I mustn't commit -murder." He has learned that much, if he's not learned anything -else. [Footnote 224] - - [Footnote 224: We present this argument simply as a statement - of one side of an oft-mooted question, but we are far from - being convinced of its validity.] - -I believe that if capital punishment were abolished, a thief, -instead of leaving his pal (as the vulgar term is for accomplice) -in a mask, to watch the man and wife while he searches for plate, -would kill them both. He would know that he could only be -transported for life, and if he killed the officers placed in -charge over him, the law could only repeat the same sentence. -Yes, sir; you are right; capital punishment is sometimes too -severe a penalty, in proportion to the crime it punishes. It -falls, now and then, on a man who has not led a bad life in -general, but who is possessed by one passion--jealousy, or -revenge, or whatever. There should be a clearer distinction of -circumstances in pronouncing sentence. A man who sets out to do a -thing, with a distinct determination to take life if he can in no -other way accomplish his purpose, commits murder. -{777} -A man devoured by passion, and acting under its influence, should -be judged less severely. And yet, sir, since the penalty of death -is less designed as a punishment of criminals than as a defence -of the public, even this distinction is very hard to make. We can -only hope that our children will judge the matter more wisely -than we do. - -This room, sir, inclosed in glass, is the apartment where a -prisoner meets his solicitor. The door is closed upon client and -counsel, and the officer in attendance cannot hear their talk, or -learn what points are to be used in the defence. - -Here we are in the room where the prisoner is prepared for -execution. I'll get the key, and unlock the closet where our -irons are kept. This is the old style, sir, very cumbrous, as you -see. Here are the identical irons Jack Sheppard wore. They would -be so much too large for me, that I could slip my foot out at -once; but in those days they wore pads around the ankle, so that -the ring fitted close. When you read of Jack's breaking loose -from his irons, it sounds very grand; but all he did was to -unwind the pad from his ankle, and draw his foot out. These are -the irons we use in travelling with convicts; here are common -handcuffs, as you see; and here is the sort of harness worn by -prisoners about to be executed. It pinions the arms firmly, and, -at the last moment, fastens the legs together. Why, no, sir; I -can't say that educated men bear it any better than ignorant -ones. I've seen educated men most awfully frightened. I think it -was death they feared, sir, not shame. When they are ready, they -pass through this passage, and out through the iron door I showed -you in the kitchen, on to the square. Step into this cabinet a -moment, sir. On those shelves are casts taken after death from -those who have been executed. There is Muller, there is -Courvoisier, there is Marchand. The young fellow with negro -features was only nineteen. He murdered his fellow-servant. Yes, -the one next him looks like a negro too; you are probably right, -sir. The one with the well-formed, dimpled chin little thought -how his pleasure-loving youth would end. Surprisingly life-like -they all are. Yes, these are the men who lie under the flags in -the Birdcage-walk. This way, sir, for your hat and cane. Good -day, sir. Astonishingly fine weather for the season. - - - - II. Saint Lazare. - -The ancient convent of Saint Lazare, in Paris, once the home of -St. Vincent de Paul, is now a prison for women taken from the -lowest depths of Parisian life. Their name is legion; their -sufferings from sickness and neglect before arrest are -unutterable. France has no law for such as they beyond the will -of the prefect of police. What alleviation, you ask, has been -found for this corrosive social evil? A more effective one than -disbelievers in French virtue would anticipate. All females who -come under the notice of the police for sanitary reasons or -criminal matters, are sent to Saint Lazare, where, instead of -jailers, there are fifty-five Sisters of Charity. [Footnote 225] - - [Footnote 225: Or, more strictly speaking, fifty-five Sisters - of Marie Joseph, the sisterhood devoted to prison discipline - in France.] - -How many of the miserable creatures are converted by intercourse -with these noble and refined women, God only knows. The day of -judgment will reveal the difference between real and apparent -success. But a woman who has been first the plaything and then -the scorn of society, must think more tenderly of God in Saint -Lazare, than in any ordinary prison or workhouse. - -{778} - -Two objections which may be made to the system of treatment -adopted at Saint Lazare, I will try to answer before enumerating -the very details which would probably suggest them. - -In the first place, it may be urged that the prisoners are made -so comfortable that imprisonment becomes a reward rather than a -punishment, a bribe rather than a threat. Secondly, it may be -with truth asserted that the wicked poor receive better care in -such an establishment, than society gives to the virtuous poor -who have never seen the inside of a jail. - -To the first objection I answer, that imprisonment is never easy -for such women to bear, because the passions which bring them so -low, love of excitement and vanity, find no food in a -well-ordered prison; that the opposite system has been tested -ever since the world was, and still the world overflows with -impenitent sinners; that at least half the prisoners of Saint -Lazare are wicked for want of precisely what they find -there--judicious training; a decent dwelling-place, good example; -and, last and best reason of all, that this system is the one -most in accordance with the teaching and example of Christ. - -And my answer to the second objection is this. Let us seek out -the honest poor, provide them with decent lodging-houses at low -prices, with practical education, useful and entertaining -reading, innocent amusement, and, above all, with religious and -moral instruction; but do not let us relax our efforts to reform -sinners merely because we have shamefully neglected our duties -toward saints. We may say truly that the respectable poor are -hard to find, because their very virtues conceal them from the -public eye. We have no such excuse where sinners are concerned; -for they are festering in every jail, penitentiary, and almshouse -in every city throughout the world. Justice, not charity, demands -that society should provide decent asylums where its victims may -hide their wretchedness. - -But let us examine the discipline of Saint Lazare in detail, that -the reader may judge for himself whether these objections have -been satisfactorily disposed of. - -The inmates are divided into three classes: 1st. Women who have -been tried for crimes and condemned; 2d. _Filles publiques_, -consigned to St. Lazare by the police for sanitary or other -reasons; 3d. Young girls and children sent thither by their -parents (_correction paternelle_) for safe keeping, or -brought there by the police as vagrants. - -The uniform is neat and inconspicuous, dark blue for one class of -offenders, and maroon for the other; I think the children wear no -uniform. The clothes-rooms are arranged very methodically, -under-clothing and dresses being laid on shelves in orderly piles -which would satisfy the most fastidious Yankee housekeeper. The -common prison garments are comfortable and well made; but there -is a higher grade of clothing for those who can afford to pay for -it, who are there on "pistole," as the technical term is, taken -from an old French coin. The same is to be said of food and -lodging; comfortable accommodations being provided for all, while -small luxuries can be purchased at a small expense. Tariffs are -posted all over the prison, that the inmates may know the fixed -prices of various articles, and not be subjected to dishonesty on -the part of sub-officials. -{779} -The present writer, who endured the terrible ordeal imposed on -all conscientious visitors, of tasting everything the various -kitchens produced, can answer for the excellent quality of soup, -coffee, bread, etc., etc. Having been allowed to content himself -with visual proof in passing through the well-ordered pharmacies, -he can only vouch for their neatness and apparent convenience. - -The work-rooms are generally furnished with tiers of benches -graduated nearly to the ceiling, so that one sister can -superintend a roomful of work-women. The gentleman who -accompanied me in my first visit showed me with some pride the -comfortable straw seats. "The empress came here one day," he -said, and asked the prisoners if they were in need of anything. -They told her the wooden benches were uncomfortable, and her -majesty ordered these seats to be made, where they can sit and -sew all day without great fatigue. Yes, our empress is a good and -charitable soul." - -Many institutions send work to be done at Saint Lazare, and each -prisoner receives a certain proportion of the proceeds of her -labor, that she may have the wherewithal to begin an honest life -when her term is out. Each day's earnings she writes down in her -own little account-book, a dingy record of hopes, as it must be -to some of them. The court-yards, where there is an hour's -recreation twice a day, are large and cheerful. In the centre are -large tanks where the women are allowed to wash small articles of -clothing; an inestimable privilege, as any one knows who has seen -prisoners trying to extemporize a laundry in their cells with a -tin wash-basin. These courts are the favored haunts of sparrows -who twitter as cheerfully within the old prison walls as under -the eaves of good men's dwellings. A magpie was hopping about in -the cloister with the air of an _habitué_, looking amazingly -as if he were there on sentence. - -There are a number of infirmaries, all tended by Sisters of -Charity, and well supplied from a kitchen devoted to hospital -diet. The patients are of the lowest class, their maladies the -saddest that flesh is heir to. That such a hospital should have -any attraction to the visitor is impossible; but remembering the -hosts of such forlorn creatures who throng our jails and -almshouses in America, I longed to transport wards and warders to -the other side of the Atlantic and inaugurate a change in prison -discipline for women. [Footnote 226] - - [Footnote 226: In the February number of _The Catholic - World_ appeared an article entitled _Paris Impious, and - Religious Paris_, giving some interesting details - concerning Saint Lazare.] - -I had the good fortune to be accompanied by a gentleman -associated for many years with prison reforms, and charged with -high authority in the matter of prison discipline in Paris. He -makes it his rule to visit the prisoners at all times and -seasons, that he may detect any breach of discipline or lack of -fidelity on the part of the superintendents. He is a man who -under the wretched disguise of vice recognizes humanity, no -matter how defiled; who looks rather to remove the causes of sin -than to procure its punishment, and sees in every culprit a good -man spoiled. Let no one suppose that I mean to advocate a feeble -administration of justice. No; in a prison, over-indulgence means -chaos; present weakness means future severity. At Saint Lazare -steady, unswerving vigilance is observed, and silence enforced -among the prisoners. Discipline being maintained evenly, not -spasmodically, the prisoners can be allowed privileges very -important to them. -{780} -Visitors are admitted twice a week to converse with the women -through two gratings, as at Newgate, a sister standing in the -narrow passage between. Recreation in the yards is taken in -common, instead of separately. It is surprising to find how a -prisoner clings to the privilege of seeing his fellow-creatures, -even when there is no chance of communication. The peculiar pangs -inflicted by the solitary system, when endured for a long time, -can only be appreciated by those who have had confidential -intercourse with prisoners. - -The prisoners' chapel is very cheerful, and has a pretty -sanctuary with stained-glass windows, and an altar beautifully -cared for. One of the points most worthy of approval in Saint -Lazare, is the attractive form under which religion is everywhere -presented. In each dormitory, infirmary, and work room, is an -oratory; or, at least, some image or picture suited to impress -the souls of the prisoners. - -One part of the establishment is full of tender associations to -every Christian soul--the sisters' private chapel, whose -sanctuary was once the cell of Saint Vincent de Paul. The stone -floor in the recessed window where he used to pray is worn hollow -with the pressure of his knees. Saint Lazare was frequented in -those days by many pilgrims, and in his cell the saint sought -refuge from distraction and dissipation of spirit. It is from -kneeling-cushions such as his, that the prayers go up to heaven -which work true reforms, which achieve immortal victories whose -laurels are fresh centuries after the conqueror's soul glories in -the presence of God. I have never stood in any cathedral with a -soul more filled with veneration than in this little chapel of -Saint Lazare, where Saint Vincent de Paul prayed; and where his -children pray still, devoted to the work most repugnant to human -nature, that of tending beings who remind us what we should all -be but for the grace of God. - -One infirmary is a lying-in hospital. The mothers can keep their -young children at Saint Lazare, or send them away as they choose. -In this infirmary shone forth the kindly spirit of my guide. -"This always touches me," he said; "for I am a _père de -famille_" and he went from baby to baby with gentle looks and -womanly sweetness, a man stalwart of frame as a grenadier. And it -touched me, too, though I am not _père de famille_, to see -the lines of little cribs, and the poor, forlorn mothers tending -their tiny waifs and strays. - -There is one serious defect in the construction of Saint Lazare, -making it in that respect unsuitable for a prison. There is but -one large dormitory for the adult prisoners who are in good -health. The others sleep, two, three, or even four in a large -cell, and with no arrangements for _surveillance_ beyond a -small aperture in the door, covered with glass. I remarked upon -the imprudence of this arrangement, and was told that the danger -was fully appreciated and deeply regretted. The French government -is too generous in its treatment of public institutions to leave -this evil long unremedied, I am confident. - -Another defect in the regulations surprised me. There is no daily -Mass in the public chapel of Saint Lazare, the prisoners hearing -Mass on Sunday only. I had no opportunity of asking the reason of -this omission, and will therefore refrain from making farther -comment upon it. The third department in Saint Lazare is the most -interesting, being the portion devoted to young girls and -homeless children. -{781} -The sentence is for six months only, but can be renewed if found -expedient. My guide called to him child after child, and talked -with them as he might talk with his own children at home. One -little thing cried bitterly. Her mother had turned her into the -streets to shift for herself, and the police, finding her -wandering about the city, had brought her to Saint Lazare. He -held her little hand in his and patted it softly as he said all -the comforting things he could think of; there was not much to be -said, one must confess. I asked where she would be sent when the -six months were out. "To some industrial establishment under the -charge of Sisters of Charity," was the answer; "The empress sees -to all such things." - -The young people are kept entirely separate from the prisoners, -in the new part of Saint Lazare. They have several hours' -schooling, and have their working hours, in which they earn money -for themselves and for the establishment, as the women do. Each -child has an exquisitely neat cell to herself for the night, -opening with a grating on to a corridor, so that the watching -sister can exercise a strict _surveillance_. - -Whenever I see the right thing done in the right way for public -offenders, I think of the man who first turned my attention to -the subject of prison discipline--Governor Andrew, as he will be -to us all in Massachusetts, no matter who holds the state reins. -Surely the sun has not often shone on any spirit more steadfast -or more tender than his; surely, the days of chivalry produced no -knightly courage more unblenching than his; surely, whatever -blessings come to Massachusetts in her future career, her -children will never forget how valiantly that brave man fought -for judicious legislation, for a humane execution of the laws, -and for the equal rights of Catholics and Protestants--will never -forget John Albion Andrew! - --------------- - - Translated From Le Correspondant. - - A Heroine Of Conjugal Love. - - Marquise De La Fayette. - - -When, at the end of the year 1864, the children of Madame de -Montagu, having overcome the natural scruples of filial modesty, -consented to open to the public the treasure of noble examples -and Christian virtues enclosed in the remembrances of their -mother, _Le Correspondant_ was the first among the public -organs to announce the lively interest felt in the recital. The -success more than justified our predictions. There is no one who -would not be edified by the perusal of the life of Madame de -Montagu, and the book has already taken its place in our -libraries. - -{782} - -Since that publication, the Duchess of Ayen, around whom are -grouped five daughters widely differing from each other, and each -with a strongly marked individuality, has become in some sort the -type of the Christian mother in modern society. - -Indeed, maternal love was in truth the terrestrial passion of her -heart, and would entirely have occupied it, had not the care of -this dear flock borne with it higher duties, and rendered greater -her accountability. The marvellous gift had been given her to -form souls; to develop the budding good within them, and, while -respecting the originality peculiar to each, to arm them with -incomparable strength. - -We need not return to what, four years ago, we have already -published of the Christian discipline, the simple and retired -life to which the Duchess of Ayen had accustomed her daughters, -realizing in them her type of true womanhood, making the heart -superior to destiny, neither dazzled by fortune or success, nor -cast down by the ills of life. When the life of Madame de Montagu -was first published, only in episode we recognized those of the -noble daughters of the Duchess d'Ayen, reserved by Providence for -the rudest trials, or destined for a bloody immolation. We speak -of the Viscountess de Noailles, who with her mother and -grandmother, the old Marchioness of Noailles, perished on the -scaffold, and Madame de La Fayette, the voluntary prisoner of -Olmutz, in truth one of the most touching heroines of conjugal -love. In the life of their sister they are but secondary figures; -but as it is permitted even among the saints of paradise to have -a preference, we must confess that, in this beautiful group of -heroic figures, our predilection has always been for the two -eldest. It will be readily understood, then, with what respect -and emotion we have opened the book, in which we would not only -find the abridged recital of the actions of Madame de La Fayette, -but could see her act, hear her speak herself of her dearly loved -mother, listen to the passionate accents of her voice, and, -indeed, almost feel the very beatings of her heart. - -This volume, printed by Téchener with great typographical care, -contains the life of the Duchess of Ayen, written by Madame de La -Fayette, in the fortress of Olmutz, on the margin of a Buffon, -with a little India-ink and a tooth-pick, and subject to the -hateful inspection of the Austrian jailers. We could not find a -more touching relic. Nowadays we mount distinguished autographs -in gold; should this ever pass into public sale, would it not -justify unheard-of extravagances? And we have now this life of -Madame de La Fayette compiled by a daughter worthy of her, Madame -de Lasteyrie, herself the representative of the virtue and -charity of a race of which, according to an expression applied to -an eminent royal family, all the daughters were chaste and the -sons valiant. And to these two recitals we add another document, -that we had the good fortune to publish in April, 1847, in which -the good Abbé Carrichon, an ecclesiastic full of zeal, but timid -in character, and who only by the grace of the holy ministry -could rise to intrepidity, relates, in the most perfect good -faith, the anguish he endured, when to his lot it fell to give to -the three condemned ones the peace and consolation of last -pardon. Those who may be astonished to find in a whole generation -of the same family so many and such extraordinary virtues, may -rest assured of its truth. Imagination has added nothing to the -edifying recital of these beautiful lives. The original documents -that we give to-day in their sublime nakedness, bear an accent of -austere heroism and holy enthusiasm that strengthens the heart -and penetrates it with the love of good; they vouch for our first -publication. -{783} -In the rapid analysis we will try to make from these documents, -we will present the most striking traits of the character and -life of Madame de La Fayette. Adrienne de Noailles, second -daughter of the Duchess of Ayen, was of ardent temperament, of -deep sensibility, with a lively imagination and a mind well -informed. She ever refused to adopt any idea imposed upon her, -that could not be subject to a free discussion. She seized -difficulties and penetrated to their depths. While still a child, -she was troubled by doubts of her religion, even when, at the age -of twelve, she was prepared for her first communion. She does not -give us the nature of these doubts, but it is clearly seen they -never interfered with the practice of piety; on the contrary, her -thirst for truth increased her fervor. Her pious mother was not -alarmed at this state of her soul; she divined the source, and -waited with confidence for grace to dissipate the clouds. Only, -she believed it best to defer the first communion of her daughter -until, calm and reassured, she could enjoy her supreme happiness -in all its plenitude. And she did not presume too much on the -integrity of her daughter; never was more solid piety or firmer -faith implanted in a heart of deeper conviction. - -If we were to study anew the perfect model of a mother which the -Duchess of Ayen presents in the portrait drawn of her by Madame -de La Fayette, a portrait depicted, too, with a sincerity that -does not fear to let us penetrate the shadows, and so prove its -reality, we should dwell upon the profoundly Christian spirit -that directed her in the choice of her sons-in-law. We there see -her rising above all worldly considerations, seeking above all -things in them the moral qualities which may assure the happiness -of her daughters; for she did not look upon marriage, as is too -often done, as a simple affair of interest, of fortune, or of -vanity, but it was, in her eyes, the sacred tie in which love -should bear the greater part. God, who united man and woman, and -who said, "Man shall leave father and mother, and cleave to his -wife, and they two shall be one flesh," has he not made love the -duty of Christian marriage? Under the old _régime_ and among -the nobility, marriages were contracted early, and Mesdemoiselles -de Noailles were scarcely twelve or thirteen years old when the -first proposition for their hands were made for them to their -mother. One of these candidates, the Marquis de La Fayette, was -himself only fourteen years old. "His extreme youth, his isolated -position, having lost all his near relations, an immense fortune -suddenly acquired, which the Duchesse d'Ayen looked upon only as -a temptation," all these considerations, which in a purely -worldly view would have seduced many a mother, decided her at -first to refuse him, notwithstanding the good opinion she -entertained of his character. The Duke d'Ayen strongly insisted -on an alliance which combined every advantage of rank and wealth, -but the duchess for several months none the less persisted in her -refusal; and it was only after a more attentive examination of -the character of M. de Lafayette had reassured her of the future -of her daughter, that, demanding a delay of two years, she -finally gave her consent. The idea of the moment when she must -resign her daughters into the keeping of another, filled her with -apprehension; evidently, she desired for them a felicity that she -had not enjoyed herself, that of entire conformity of tastes, -thoughts, and character in the companions of their lives; and -when the marriages were resolved upon, it is delightful to read -in the recital of Madame de La Fayette the detail of touching -cares with which this tender mother charged herself, to prepare -these eldest daughters for their new stations--one to espouse -the Viscount de Noailles, a cousin whom she had loved since her -infancy, and the other to be united to M. de La Fayette. - -{784} - - "'My heart attracted me to M. de La Fayette,' says with much - simplicity the manuscript of the prisoner of Olmutz, 'and with - a sentiment so profound, that our union has always been one of - firmness and tenderness through all the vicissitudes of this - life--through all the good and evil that have been our lot for - twenty-four years. - - "With what pleasure I discovered that, for more than a year, my - mother had looked upon and loved him as her son! She detailed - to me all the good she had known of him--what she thought of - him herself, and I soon saw he possessed for her the filial - charm that made the happiness of my life. She occupied herself - in aiding my poor head, especially about this time so empty and - so weak, to keep from going astray during such an important - event. She taught me to ask, and she asked for me, the - blessings of heaven on the state I was about to embrace. - - "'I was then only fourteen and a half years old, and, having - new duties to perform, my mother believed it her duty to - reapply herself to the care of forming my sister and myself for - our future destinies. The confidence with which we always - conversed with her, gave her abundant opportunity. It was not - the kind of confidence to which, I believe, mothers oftener - pretend than obtain from their children--that inspired by a - companion of one's own age--but the perfect and intimate trust - which needs the direction and approval of a parent, and causes - a pang of fear in any step, visit, or conversation, of which - she may not approve. A confidence, in fine, which always - returns to its support--to its guide, in whose light it would - repose as well as in its tenderness; a guide who, if even one - could not always approve its decisions, and might encounter its - reproaches, would still be considered necessary, and to whom - the idea of dissimulation would be insupportable. - - "'Such was my feeling toward my mother, who often permitted me - to argue with her.'" - -The ceremony of the marriage accomplished, the husband of sixteen -years set out for his regiment, and the young bride testified by -her grief at this separation all the affection she experienced -for him. He returned: the religious education of Madame de La -Fayette was completed, she made her first communion with an -entire faith and in the most humble dispositions, and soon after, -on the 15th of December, 1775, she became a mother for the first -time. - -The faculty of loving knew no bounds in this youthful heart. -Identified in all the tastes, aspirations, sentiments, and -interests of him who had given her the right to say, in all -sincerity, "I love you religiously, worldly, passionately," she -adopted the political faith of her husband, and, without any -personal afterthought, without weakness or hesitation, from her -most tender age, valiantly accepted all the sacrifices and all -the perils of the public life of a man whose political -preoccupations governed him exclusively. He held the best part of -her heart; but, immovable in her religious faith, Madame de La -Fayette never sacrificed a principle nor a practice of piety to -her conjugal idolatry. It is remarkable, also, that this ardor of -passion for her husband never weakened the vivacity of her -tenderness for her mother, her children, and her oldest sister, -who, from the cradle, had been her dearest friend. - -{785} - -Inasmuch as she was sufficient for every duty, so her soul was -sufficient in all its affections. The war which broke out about -this time between England and her American colonies, opened to -the Marquis de La Fayette the brilliant arena that would give -immortality to his name; but for his young companion began an -existence full, at the same time, of anguish and delirious joy, -of grief and devotion. The family of Noailles had strongly -adopted philosophical ideas, and willingly followed the liberal -views of the eighteenth century. The generous enthusiasm, -however, which led M. de La Fayette to devote himself to the -service of the American people vindicating their independence, -was at first severely disapproved of and considered madness by -the Duke d'Ayen and the Marshal de Noailles. The marquis was -nineteen; he had been married three years, was already a father, -and soon expected a second child. Madame de La Fayette and the -Duchess d'Ayen alone understood the motives that determined the -departure of M. de La Fayette; the former studied in every way to -conceal the torture of her heart, preferring to be considered -insensible, or too much of a child, to giving the appearance, by -showing her grief, of wrong to the object of her worship. - -Meanwhile, the great struggle, of which the new world was the -theatre, and in which aristocratic England found herself at war -with the principal democracy of modern society, held all Europe -in suspense. The greatest interest was felt in France for the -success of the Americans. While the French government, though -understanding how matters stood, hesitated, nevertheless, to take -an open part in the quarrel, public opinion declared itself still -more favorably for the United States; the various incidents of -the war were greedily sought after, each success of the -insurgents excited enthusiasm, and soon all hearts beat in unison -with that of Madame de La Fayette, for the success of the young -hero who had so actively contributed to such glorious results. - -We must transport ourselves to this time, recall its events, -watch the fever of public opinion, to understand what must have -been, after two years' absence, the first return of M. de La -Fayette, and the intoxication of joy his wife experienced. He was -not long in setting out again for the new world, and did not -return from there finally until 1782, after the brilliant -campaign of which his valor assured the success, and which -terminated by the surrender of Lord Cornwallis. His return was -unexpected, a surprise for the court as well as the city: the -_memoirs_ and _memories_ of the Count de Segur -furnished curious testimony to support what we have said. We -read: - - "All who lived in that day will still remember the enthusiasm - occasioned by the return of M. de La Fayette, an enthusiasm of - which the queen herself partook. They were celebrating, at the - Hotel de Ville, a brilliant _fête_ on the occasion of the - birth of an heir to the throne. The news came of the arrival of - the conqueror of Cornwallis. Madame de La Fayette, who assisted - at the _fête_, received a special mark of favor; the queen - placed her in her own carriage, and drove to the Hotel de - Noailles, where the marquis, her husband, had just alighted." - [Footnote 227] - - [Footnote 227: Tome i. p. 180.] - -The excess of sentiment of Madame de La Fayette for her husband -at this time, was such that she suffered intensely in his -presence. She endeavored to conceal her passion for him, and -trembled lest she might seem importunate, and weary him. Some -years after, she confessed to M. de La Fayette this passionate -attraction for him which she had so resisted; "but," she added -gently, "you need not be dissatisfied with what is left." - -{786} - -We, who have only known M. de La Fayette soured and old, and do -not feel well disposed toward him, because, under the -restoration, he shadowed his glory as liberator of two worlds by -intrigues with secret societies; we find it difficult to imagine -him so charming, "carrying away every heart." But it was even so; -and, at the same time that popular favor rendered him so powerful -among the multitude, the most beautiful, the proudest, the most -brilliant ladies of the court, were madly in love with him. - -But we are not writing a biography of M. de La Fayette, and it -will be understood that, in an article on the saintly companion -of his life, we would not wish any controversy on so illustrious -a person, and for whom, with some reservation, we profess great -and sincere respect. We will not speak, then, of the events of -the revolution, in which he played so prominent a part, only -inasmuch as our heroine was mingled with and took part in them. - -The abolition of the slave-trade was one of the philanthropic -preoccupations of M. de La Fayette. He bought a plantation at -Cayenne, _la belle Gabrielle_, in order to give an example -of a gradual enfranchisement of the slaves, and referred to the -active charity of his wife the details of his enterprise. With -this view, she kept up a correspondence with the priests of the -seminary _du Saint-Esprit_, who had a house at Cayenne. If -circumstances did not permit the realization of her hopes, at -least she had the consolation of knowing that, thanks to the -religious instruction given to the blacks on this plantation, -they were guilty of less horrors than at any other point in the -colonies. - -We must recognize here, too, and to its eternal honor, that -America has always been the portion of the globe where liberty of -conscience, loudly proclaimed, has never ceased to be practised. -It was not so in old Europe and in France before 1789, so the -contrast presented by this free state of things, and the numerous -vexations to which the different religions were exposed with us, -could not but forcibly strike M. de La Fayette on his return. -After a journey to Nimes, where he studied more closely the -situation of the Protestants, he was able to present, with full -knowledge of the case, a proposition to the Assembly of the -Notables in 1787, demanding their restoration to the civil rights -of which they had been despoiled. - -I love to remember that an eminent Catholic clergyman, Mgr. -Luzerne, Bishop of Langres, and later, Cardinal, warmly supported -the proposition for this act of justice. Madame de La Fayette -shared these sentiments, and received with lively interest the -Protestant ministers whom the result of the affair attracted -around her husband. A zealous child of the Catholic Church, she -detested the persecutions that could only alienate her children, -and which appeared to her so opposed to the spirit of -Christianity. - -After 1783, M. de La Fayette, whose family had increased -considerably, and whose political importance had reached its -height, left the hotel de Noailles, to establish himself in his -own house, _rue de Bourbon_, now the _rue de Lille_. -And there the ever-increasing wave of the revolutionary movement, -that was never able to overcome the virtue and brightness of a -king, the most estimable as a man of any who ever wore a crown, -found our heroine. The high position of M. de La Fayette, deputy -of the nobility, member of the Constitutional Assembly, and -commander-in-chief of the Parisian National Guard, imposed -obligations on him in which his wife never repudiated her part. -She was seen to accept the successive demands of each of the -districts of Paris, to the number of sixty; to preside at the -blessing of flags and other patriotic demonstrations. The general -kept open house, and did its honors in a manner to charm his -numerous guests. - -{787} - - "'But, says her daughter, Madame de Lasteyrie, initiated into - her most secret thoughts, 'what she suffered in the depths of - her own heart, only those who heard her speak, can tell. She - saw my father at the head of a revolution of which it was - impossible to foretell the end. Every evil, every disorder, was - judged by her with a complete lack of illusion in her own - cause; yet she was so sustained by the principles of her - husband, and so convinced of the good he could do, and the evil - he might avert, that she bore with incredible strength the - continual dangers to which she was exposed. Never, said she to - us, did I see him go out during this time, without thinking - that I heard his last adieu. No one was more terrified than she - by the dangers of those she loved; but in these times, she rose - above herself, and in her devotion to my father, hoped he could - prevent the increasing crime.'" - -We may infer from these words the perpetual anguish of Madame de -La Fayette during the three first years of the revolution. In the -Duchesse d'Ayen she found a support full of sweetness and -tenderness; who, though sharing none of the opinions of her -son-in-law, believed firmly in the rectitude of his intentions. -Her angelic sister, the Viscountess de Noailles, felt exactly as -she did, loved equally a husband, young, handsome, brave, and -charming, associated in the most advanced ideas of M. de La -Fayette, and, like him, a member of the Assembly. The eldest -daughter, too, of Madame de La Fayette, began at this time to be -of much comfort to her; she had her make her first communion in -1790. It was, in the midst of the great political events of that -epoch, the first concern of her maternal heart. - -The civil constitution of the clergy was to be one of the most -sensible tribulations of Madame de La Fayette. She considered she -should, more particularly on account of her personal situation, -declare her attachment for the Catholic Church; consequently she -was present at the refusal of the oath which the curé of Saint -Sulpice made from the pulpit, of whom she was a parishioner; she -was constantly meeting there with persons most known by their -opposition to the new principles, and with those then called the -_aristocratie_. She took part assiduously in the offices, at -first in the churches and afterward in the oratories where the -persecuted clergy took refuge. - -She continually received the nuns who fled to her for protection; -or priests not under oath, whom she encouraged in the exercise of -their functions, and the preservation of their religious liberty. -She well knew that such conduct was hurtful to the popularity of -her husband, of great importance to her to preserve, but no -consideration could stop her in what she considered a duty. - -M. de La Fayette never interfered with the conduct of his wife; -he held as nobly to his principles of liberty of conscience in -this respect as in all others. Aloud he disapproved of the oath -extorted from the Catholic priests, opposed it wherever he could, -and was at least successful in preventing the articles relative -to this civil constitution of the clergy from being -constitutional; on the contrary, they were even rejected from the -class of ordinary laws that any new legislature might revise. For -General La Fayette deluded himself that the constitution of 1791 -was destined to last. But whatever his sentiments, that which -made him respect the religious convictions of his wife, and -oppose all his power to the persecution of the clergy, does great -honor to his character. -{788} -As the priests under oath were habitually received by the -commander of the National Guard at Paris, Madame de La Fayette -never dissimulated before them her attachment to the ancient -bishops; but she mingled in her expressions so much adroitness -with her sincerity that she never wounded them. Only once she -deviated from the rule of tolerance that she imposed on herself -on her husband's account, and that was when the newly elected -constitutional Bishop of Paris, came to dine officially with the -general. She would not recognize by her presence the quality of -his diocese, and dined out, although she knew by doing so it -could not fail to be made a subject of remark. - -Meanwhile, the ever-increasing revolutionary delirium multiplied -disorders, paralyzed the efforts of the constitutional party, and -rendered the part of M. de La Fayette more and more difficult. He -was suspected on both sides, by the court and by the Jacobins, -and was rapidly wearing out the remains of an expiring popularity -in an already useless struggle. - -The king, to escape the odious tyranny of which he was the -victim, attempted to fly from Paris; we know the rest. Arrested -at Varennes, brought back to the Tuileries, he and his family -were placed in the closest confinement. The unhappy prince at -last resigned himself to accept the constitution, the Constituent -Assembly terminated its sittings, and was replaced by the -Legislative Assembly, and General La Fayette, sincere in the -illusion that the revolution was finished and the future secured, -gave in his resignation as commander of the National Guard, and -set out for Auvergne with his wife and children. Now in the -destiny of Madame de La Fayette there came a short truce of -happiness; the journey from Paris to Chavaniac was a series of -ovations that popular enthusiasm spread, for the last time, -before her idol. The Duchess d' Ayen and the Viscountess de -Noailles came a little while to share this apparent and -transitory calm; but the Duke d'Ayen had emigrated to -Switzerland, and Madame de Montagu had taken refuge in England. -The formation of three grand army corps had been decreed, in -imminent danger of a foreign war; the command of the centre was -confided to General La Fayette, who repaired to his camp in 1791. - -The year 1792 saw the hideous journey of the 20th of June, soon -after followed by the scenes more lamentable still, of the 10th -of August. - -At the news of the wicked attempt of the 20th of June, the -General de La Fayette did not fear to address to the assembly, -from Maubeuge, where were then his head-quarters, a letter in -which he declaimed with indignation and vehemence against the -Jacobins; and finally, quitting his camp, he hastened to Paris -and appeared at the bar of the Assembly; there to brand -energetically the violences committed at the Tuileries, and -demand the punishment of the guilty. Was not this act of courage -alone sufficient honor for a lifetime? But finally, seeing he had -nothing to hope from the Assembly, he attempted to organize a -resistance at Sedan in order to save Louis XVI. The triumphant -Jacobins replied, on the 10th of August, by a decree of -proscription to the refusal which M. de La Fayette made to -recognize the fall of the king; a price was put upon his head, -and, constrained in his turn to seek a refuge in a foreign land, -the patriot of 1789 fell on the frontier into an Austrian post, -was arrested with his aides-de-camp, conducted first to Namur, -then to Wesel, and considered by the allied powers as an _enemy -of universal peace_, whose liberty was incompatible with the -surety of European governments. - -{789} - -The arbitrary detention of MM. de La Fayette, Latour Maubourg, -and Bureaux de Pusy, remains one of the disgraces of the -government of the Emperor Francis II., and he cannot be blamed -enough for it; but in the condition of parties and in view of the -renown of M. de La Fayette, had it not for him some great -advantages? In our eyes, the five years of _carcere duro_ -inflicted upon the hero of American liberty, completed his glory. -Such were the sentiments of Madame de Staël when she wrote to -congratulate him on his release: "Your misfortune has preserved -your glory, and if your health can be restored, you will come out -perfect from the tomb where your name has acquired a new lustre." -But dating from this epoch, what was not the ineffable anguish of -Madame de La Fayette? Informed of the arrest of her husband, she -had but one thought--to release him or share his captivity. But -she had two other duties to fulfil; to get her son out of France, -and, if possible, to confide him to the friendship of General -Washington, and to protect the interests of the creditors of -General La Fayette by giving them the sequestrated estates for -security, and in both she experienced great difficulty. Arrested -at Chavaniac, where she was resting with her son, aged thirteen, -her two daughters, and the aged aunt who had brought up M. de La -Fayette, she obtained from Roland, then minister of the interior, -permission not to be taken to Paris, but to remain at Chavaniac -on parole. Encouraged by this testimony of humanity, and hoping -to be delivered from an engagement that weighed so heavily on -her, she smothered her natural pride and again addressed herself -to Roland: - - "'I can only attribute to a sentiment of kindness,' she wrote - him, 'the change you have brought about in my situation. You - spare me the dangers of too perilous a journey, and consent to - give me my retreat for my prison. But any prison, be it what it - may, is insupportable to me, since I have learned this morning - from the gazette of M. Brissot, that my husband has been - transferred from town to town by the enemies of France, and is - being conducted to Spandau. Whatever repugnance I may feel to - owe a service to those who have shown themselves the enemies - and accusers of him whom I revere and love as he only is worthy - of being loved, yet it is in all the sincerity of my heart that - I vow eternal gratitude to him who, while relieving the - administration from responsibility and giving me my freedom, - will afford me the opportunity to rejoin my husband, if France - is sufficiently free to allow me to travel without risk. - - "On my knees, if necessary, I ask you this favor. Judge of my - present state of mind. Noailles La Fayette." - -A faithful friend bore this letter to Roland. He appeared deeply -moved, and replied immediately: - - "I have placed your touching appeal, my dear madam, before the - committee. I must observe, however, that it would not appear to - me prudent for a person of your name to travel in France, on - account of the unfortunate impressions just now attached to it. - But circumstances may change. Be assured if they do, I shall be - the first to seize upon them for your advantage." - -For three months the poor woman was without any news of the -general, though she redoubled every effort to obtain it; she -wrote to the Princess of Orange, to the Duke of Brunswick, to -Klopstock, but all in vain. Toward the middle of June, there came -to her, through the interposition of the United States minister, -two letters from M. de La Fayette; they were dated from the -dungeon of Magdebourg, and the inquietude they gave her -concerning the health of her husband made her more than ever -anxious to join him. -{790} -Governeur Morris, then American minister, proved her constant and -faithful friend, and from him she accepted the loan of money of -which she had need, to pay some debts and for the daily expenses -of her family. At this time many of the wives of emigrants -believed it necessary for their personal security, and -preservation of their fortunes, to be divorced; Madame de La -Fayette would never consent to save her life by such an act, and -whenever she found it necessary to present a petition or make a -demand, she took a pride in commencing all she wrote, "The wife -of La Layette." In the midst of all these terrible agitations, -the fervor of our heroine never decreased. She submitted with -sweet resignation to the divine will, and associated in her -exercises of piety the women of the village, who, like herself, -were deprived of the holy sacrifice of the Mass, which was no -longer celebrated. These innocent meetings were the subject of -many denunciations; of _aristocracy_ they could not accuse -her, but now it was _fanaticism_. At the end of the year -1795, after the complete defeat of the Girondins, the -persecutions against the priests and the _ci-devant_ nobles -were redoubled, and some of the effects of the general were -exposed to sale. This courageous wife repaired to Brionde, where -the auction took place. "Citizens," said she, to the district, "I -feel myself obliged to protest before the sale about to take -place, against the enormous injustice of applying the laws of -emigration to him who now is the prisoner of the enemies of -France. I demand of you certificate of my protestation." - -The 12th of November, Madame de La Fayette was informed she would -be arrested the next day; and truly she was carried off in the -evening by a detachment of the National Guard, and incarcerated -at Brionde. Her children remained at Chavaniac, but at the end of -a few months the jailer was won over, and M. Frestel, preceptor -of the young Georges, conducted them, one after the other, to -their mother. ... It was in this prison of Brionde that the news -reached her that Mesdames de Noailles and Madame d'Ayen, both -arrested, had just been transferred to the Luxembourg; then in -May, 1794, came the order to bring the Citoyenne La Fayette to -Paris. She entered there the 19th Prairial, eve of the -_fête_ of the Supreme Being, three days before the one when, -according to Madame de Lasteyrie, "they built up terror upon -terror." Placed at _la petite Force_, at the end of fifteen -days she was transported to Plessis, where she found her cousin, -the Duchess of Duras. The massacres of the revolutionary tribunal -at this time were no less than sixty a day; everything seemed to -announce to the prisoner that she was being led to certain death. - -One of the buildings of Plessis served as a depot to the -_Conciergerie_, and each morning saw twenty prisoners depart -for the guillotine. "The idea that one may soon be of the -number," wrote Madame de La Fayette, "gives firmness for such a -spectacle." She made a will at Plessis, of which several passages -are given; nothing could be more noble and beautiful. It begins -in this way: - - "Lord, thou hast been my strength and my hope in the extreme - evils that are poured down upon me; thou art my God." - -{791} - -Fifty days were thus passed by the prisoner, when on the 10th -Thermidor, a great tumult being heard in the street, it was -supposed the populace were rushing to massacre all in prison; it -was the announcement of the death of Robespierre. - -The representatives, Bourdon de l'Oise and Legendre came soon -after to visit the prison and assign the fate of each. All were -set at liberty except Madame de La Fayette, on whom they were not -willing to pronounce sentence until they sent for the decision of -the committee. The unhappy woman was but little concerned at the -prolongation of her captivity; for she had just learned that her -mother, her grandmother, and her sister had perished on the 4th -Thermidor. Her grief was overwhelming, but she never revolted, -her prayers preserved her. "Now," she wrote to her children, "I -find the sentiments of those I mourn, those, too, that I desire, -and those that I pray God to put in my heart, and sometimes I -obtain all at once." Notwithstanding the active solicitations of -Mr. Monroe, the new minister from the United States, Madame de La -Fayette was not liberated; Le Piessis was used for other -purposes, so she was transferred to the Maison Delmas, rue Notre -Dame des Champs; she remained there four months, and met there -with the strangest people, for it was now the partisans of the -reign of terror who peopled the prisons; but there, as -everywhere, she gained the respect of all. Her physical -sufferings were great during the rigorous winter of 1794 and -1795. Everything froze in her room, and she was peculiarly -sensitive to cold. God granted her in her distress a precious -consolation in the visits of the Abbé Carrichon. He gave her all -the details she hungered after of the death of the three dear -persons that he had accompanied to the scaffold, and with him she -made a complete examination of all the faults of her life. On the -23d of January, 1795, the deliverance, so long retarded, of -Madame de La Fayette was finally signed, and she was set at -liberty. - -Her first care on leaving prison was to hasten to Mr. Monroe and -thank him for all he had done for her, and begged him to finish -the good work by obtaining passports for herself and family. She -had but one aim, to rejoin her husband in Germany with her -daughters, and place her son in safety in America. The letter she -wrote General Washington, in which she portrays with simplicity, -firmness, and dignity the obligations she was under to M. Frestel -for his devotion to her and her family, and begs for him the -regard he deserves, is truly remarkable. As to her son, she -expresses herself thus: "My wish is, that my son may lead a very -retired life in America, and continue the studies that three -years of misfortune have interrupted; and that being far away -from scenes which might abase or too strongly irritate him, he -may work to become an efficient citizen of the United States, of -which the principles and sentiments are entirely in accordance -with those of French citizens." - -When the time came to part with her only son, the separation -seemed cruel to her mother's heart; but she was firmly convinced -she acted in this matter as her husband would have dictated. She -found her strength in this thought. As we read of so many -sacrifices, sufferings, and sorrows so valiantly supported, we -find ourselves so associated in the sentiments of this -incomparable person, that we wait with feverish anxiety the -moment when she should rejoin her husband. The memoirs of Madame -de Montagu give us the details of the touching reunion of Madame -de La Fayette at Altona with her two sisters and her Aunt de -Tessé; they will be found in the account of Madame de Lasteyrie. -{792} -The conversation with the Emperor of Austria is also there given. -He granted her permission to shut herself up at Olmutz, and by -opening heaven to her, he could scarcely have made her happier. - - "'We arrived,' wrote Madame de Lasteyrie, 'at Olmutz, the 1st - of October, 1795, at eleven o'clock in the morning, in one of - the covered carriages found at all the posts, our own having - been broken on the way. I never shall forget the moment when - the postillion showed us from afar the steeples of the town. - The vivid emotion of my mother is ever present with me. She was - almost suffocated by her tears; and when she had sufficiently - recovered herself to speak, she blessed God in the words of the - canticle of Tobias: "Thou art great, O Lord, for ever, and thy - kingdom is unto all ages, for thou scourgest and thou savest," - etc., etc. My father was not informed of our arrival; he had - never received a letter from my mother. Three years of - captivity, the last passed in complete solitude, inquietude - concerning all the objects of his affection, and sufferings of - every kind, had deeply undermined his health; the change in his - countenance was frightful. My mother was struck by it; but - nothing could diminish the intoxication of her joy, but the - bitterness of her irreparable losses. My father, after the - first moment of happiness in this sudden reunion, dared not ask - her a question. He knew there had been a reign of terror in - France, but he was ignorant of the victims. The day passed - without his venturing to examine into her fears, and without my - mother having the strength to explain herself. Only at night, - when my sister and I were shut into the next room assigned to - us, could she inform my father that she had lost on the - scaffold her grandmother, her mother, and her sister.'" - -Madame de La Fayette shared her husband's captivity twenty-seven -months. She paid with her health--we may say with her life--the -privilege of being reunited to him she loved, and proving to him -her tenderness; but it was such great happiness to her that, -whatever the severity that accompanied it, it seems not even at -such a price to have been too dearly bought. - -At last the success of the French arms opened the dungeon of -Olmutz. The French plenipotentiaries, in signing the treaty of -Campo Formio, exacted that the prisoners should be immediately -set at liberty. The gates of the fortress were therefore opened -to them, and the 16th of September, 1797, they set out for -Hamburg. It was just five years and a half since their arrest. - -Happy to owe his liberty solely to the triumph of the French -army, M. de La Fayette addressed to General Bonaparte the -expression of his gratitude and that of his companions in arms, -in these terms: - - "Hamburg, Oct. 6, 1797. - "Citizen General: The prisoners of Olmutz, happy to owe their - deliverance to your irresistible arms, have enjoyed in their - captivity the thought that their liberty and life were attached - to the triumphs of the republic and to your personal glory. - To-day they enjoy the homage they would love to render to their - liberator. It would, indeed, have been gratifying to us, - Citizen General, to have offered in person the expression of - these sentiments, and to have looked upon the theatre of so - many victories, the army that won them, and the hero, who has - placed our resurrection among the number of his miracles. But - you know the journey to Hamburg has not been left to our - choice. It is from the place where we have said good by to our - jailers that we address our thanks to their conquerors. In the - solitary retreat in the Danish territory of Holstein, where we - will go to try and re-establish the health you have saved, we - will join to our vows or patriotism for the republic the most - lively interest in the illustrious general, to whom we are not - only attached for the services he has rendered our country and - in the cause of liberty, but for the particular obligations - that we delight to owe him, and that the deepest gratitude has - for ever engraven in our hearts. Salutation and respect. - "Lafayette, - Latour Maubourg, - Bureaux de Pusy." - -{793} - -Among all the marks of sympathy showered upon the escaped victims -of Austrian tyranny, none touched M. de La Fayette more deeply -than one from Madame de Staël--full of respect and emotion. -Mathieu de Montmorency added to it a few lines in which these -words strike us: "The constant occupation of your misfortunes and -your courage has outlived in me, and ever will, my alienation -from all political activity; but I believe I should renew all my -ancient enthusiasm to welcome one so constant in the cause of -liberty." - -Although the health of Madame de La Fayette was destroyed, she -preserved her wonderful activity and force of character. It was -she, the only one of her family, whose name was not on the list -of the banished, who was able the first to enter France, and -there regulate her affairs and the return of all her relations. -It was she again who, after the 18th Brumaire, understood that -General La Fayette should return immediately without waiting for -any authority that might possibly have been refused him. Sure of -the marvellous tact with which she judged her surroundings, he -followed her advice without any other information. The news of -his arrival in Paris was not pleasing to the first consul; he -wanted the general to return to Holland and solicit his entrance, -like every one else. Madame de La Fayette called upon him, was -graciously received, exposed the peculiar position of her -husband, and the favorable effect that his return could not fail -to produce on all honest and patriotic men, and proved herself -noble, skilful, and prudent. "I am delighted, madame," said the -first consul to her, "to have made your acquaintance; you have -great good sense, but you understand nothing of business." -However, it was agreed to that M. de La Fayette might remain -openly in Paris without asking permission. Madame de Lasteyrie, -in her recital, in which the most noble sentiments are expressed -so simply and happily, has given us a page that portrays the -whole soul of her heroic mother. - - "Retirement would still have been preferable to my father under - the consular magistracy of Bonaparte; under the despotism of - Napoleon, it was, through honor, enforced upon him. In either - case, it fulfilled the wishes of my mother. After so much - suffering and exhaustion, a retired life--perfect quietude - would not have been necessary for her--in which in peace she - could consecrate the affections of her soul to those dearest to - her, was the only earthly happiness she sought. She felt too - deeply, too passionately, I may say, the emotions of family - life to desire others. Neither the grandeur of her former - state, nor the _éclat_ even of her misfortunes, had - excited in her that pride of imagination which cannot bear a - simple existence. Her devotion rose above every trial, but the - sentiments and easy duties of an obscure destiny sufficed for - her heart. Love filled it entirely." - -What can we add to this picture? Nothing, only to ask the perusal -of the admirable letter of M. de La Fayette, which ends the -volume. He there relates the long agony, the tender and charming -delirium of the heavenly creature whose affections he possessed. -To have seen him a practical Christian would have been the -realization of her most cherished wish. "If I am going to another -home, you must feel," she said to him once, "that I shall be -occupied there with you. The sacrifice of my life would be very -little, however much it may cost me to part with you, if it could -assure your eternal happiness." - -Another time, she said to him: "You are not a Christian?" As he -did not reply, she said: "Ah! I know what you are, a fatalist." -"You believe me proud," answered the general, "are you not a -little so yourself?" "Oh! yes!" she cried, "with all my heart. I -feel that I would give my life for that sect." -{794} -Another time, in this half delirium which led astray her ideas, -but never her heart, she said: "This life is short, troubled; let -us be reunited in God, and set out together for eternity." Her -God and her husband were her thoughts to the last moment. She -died on Christmas night, the 25th of December, 1807, pressing the -cherished hand and saying, "I am yours for ever." - -Those who wish to finish this picture of conjugal love, must do -as we have done, seek in the memoirs of an illustrious -contemporary the scene that completes it. In the _Memoires de -M. Guizot_, in the year 1834, we read: - - "Some months before M. de Talleyrand had retired from public - affairs, another celebrated man, very different in character, - and celebrated in other ways, had disappeared from all worldly - scenes. No life had been more exclusively, more passionately - political than that of M. de La Fayette; no man had more - constantly placed his political sentiments and ideas above all - other preoccupations and all other interests, and yet in his - death he was completely estranged from them. Having been ill - for three weeks, he approached his last hour; his children and - family alone surrounded his bed. He spoke no more, and they - supposed he could not see. His son George noticed that, with an - uncertain hand, he sought something on his breast; he came to - the assistance of his father and laid in his hand the medallion - that M. de La Fayette always wore suspended from his neck. He - pressed it to his lips, and expired." - -This medallion contained the likeness and hair of Madame de La -Fayette, his wife whom he had lost twenty-seven years before. -Thus, already separated from the entire world, alone with the -thought and image of the devoted companion of his life, he died. -When his obsequies were spoken of, it was a recognized fact in -the family, that M. de La Fayette wished to be buried in the -little cemetery adjoining the convent of Picpus, by the side of -Madame de La Fayette, in the midst of the victims of the -revolution, for the most part, royalists, and of the aristocracy, -whose relations had founded this pious establishment. This wish -of the veteran of 1789 was scrupulously respected and carried -out. An immense crowd, troops, national guards, people of all -kinds accompanied the funeral procession through the avenues and -streets of Paris. Arrived at the gate of the convent, the crowd -was stopped; the interior enclosure could not admit more than two -or three hundred persons; the family, the near relations, the -principal authorities entered alone, walked silently through the -convent into the modest garden, then penetrated the cemetery. -There no political manifestation took place; no discourse was -pronounced; religion and the intimate memories of the soul alone -were present; politics had no place near the death-bed or the -tomb of the man whose life it had filled and governed. - - Léon Arbaud. - -------------- - -{795} - - Translated From The Revue Du Monde Catholique. - - Flaminia. - - By Alexandre De Bar. - - -"So you really believe that the soul lives for ever?" said the -Baron Frederic. - -"Certainly I do," answered the Count Shrann. - -"That is very strange," replied the first speaker, emptying at a -single draught a tankard of beer whose size a German could alone -look at without trembling. - -"And you believe that those whom we have loved in this world we -shall again love in the next, and they will remember us even as -we shall remember them?" - -"Certainly I do!" again replied the count. - -"This is yet more strange," observed the baron; and then both of -them continued to smoke on in silence. They seemed, indeed, so -completely absorbed in the contemplation of the bluish clouds of -smoke which they continued to puff forth so regularly into the -already misty and thickened atmosphere, that one might reasonably -have thought that the discussion would end there; but such was -not the case. - -Let us profit by this interval to make known to our readers who -were the Count Shrann and the Baron Frederic. They were two old -fellow-soldiers, of whom the recollection yet remains in the -minds of those who knew them, as being the most perfect type of -that warm and devoted friendship which is less rare than one -thinks or than one will admit. They were two brave Germans, who -had courageously held their places during the wars in the -commencement of this century. They had fought side by side with -all the ardor of their youth and patriotism, and had on many -occasions saved each other's lives by their bravery. This -community of dangers and obligations had yet further strengthened -the links of a friendship commenced in their childhood; so that -when the peace of 1815 gave to Europe, wearied out by war, a time -of rest, our two friends placed their experience and capabilities -at the service of their country, as they had already offered the -tribute of their blood and courage, each taking on himself the -tie and responsibility of married life. Both married on the same -day the two daughters of a neighbor whom the war had ruined; and -if their brides were little endowed with worldly possessions, at -least they were rich in virtues, and that is a wealth which -equals the former, although it be much less sought after, and, we -may even add, more difficult to find. - -Unfortunately these marriages so alike in happiness were far less -so in their duration; for at the end of two years Gertrude, the -wife of the Baron Frederic, died, leaving in the heart and life -of her husband a void which nothing could fill. Many were the -efforts made to console the poor baron, many were the mothers who -lavished on him their sweetest smiles; many were the maidens who -directed on him their chaste regards, and who pictured to -themselves a brilliant future in which his name and fortune held -a prominent place; but all was useless, for the baron remained -quite insensible to these efforts and designs. -{796} -His friend, and even his sister-in-law, counselled him to seek in -a new marriage that close and loving friendship which he was so -well adapted to appreciate; but at length, seeing him so -obstinately faithful to the memory of Gertrude, they feared to -afflict him, and so ceased to press him on the subject, trusting -all to time, which, nevertheless, rolled on without bringing any -change to the baron's regrets and resolutions. His was one of -those strongly organized minds where the impressions, lively as -they are lasting, resist the stronger that they are unaccompanied -by outward efforts. Hence was it that the baron supported, -without giving way an instant, the blow which had struck him, and -yet the wound in his heart remained as sensitive and as painful -as on that day when with his own hands he placed his well-beloved -Gertrude in her shroud. Old age came on, bringing with it its -longing for rest, and then the two friends quitted their public -life as they had entered it, side by side. The baron went to live -with his brother, for thus he designated his friend; and only -once every year left his castle to visit his own property and -tenants, toward whom he showed a kindness without limit. Some of -these tenants abused that kindness, and paid their rent year -after year, with tears, excuses, and complaints, the worthy baron -leaving them unmolested; and when his steward spoke to him of -sending off the estate these families, he replied: "Better that -this should happen to me, who have patience with them, than send -them away to those who probably would have none." No sooner was -he returned to the castle than he forgot all these things, and -recommenced spoiling and fondling his nephews and nieces, of whom -he had no small number; for the Count Shrann was a descendant of -those ancient families who seemed to have presented the prolific -virtue of the golden age; nor did the number of his nephews and -nieces give any anxious thoughts to the baron, since often would -he say to his friend: - -"Why torment yourself so much about the future of your children? -You will always have enough to settle them all in life; and -besides, I myself, who have but cousins in I do not know what -remote degree of affinity, I find it but just that these my -nephews should inherit my property before them." - -And then the count became silent, for he found the baron's answer -quite natural, and such as he himself should have made, had their -positions been reversed. Between these two men, so closely united -by affection and so similar in heart and understanding, there was -but one subject on which their point of view was diametrically -opposed, and that was the one with which they were engaged at the -opening of this chapter. Count Shrann, who had been brought up by -a loving and pious mother, was a Catholic both in heart and soul; -whilst the Baron Frederic had, on the contrary, lost both his -parents at a very early age, and had been brought up by his -uncle, who boasted of being the friend and the protector of the -Encyclopedists; so that Frederic had been educated in that cold -and barren school of materialism which Voltaire has the doubtful -honor of having founded. Baron Frederic believed in nothing -spiritual, a circumstance which caused great chagrin to his -friend, whence it happened that on this, as on so many former -occasions, the two friends, after the dinner-hour, had passed -long hours in smoking and drinking huge tankards of beer, whilst -making the same questions and the same answers on this, the one -great subject of their difference in opinion and faith. - -{797} - -"So you believe that the soul lives for ever?" said the baron. - -"Certainly I do," replied the count. - -"It is very strange," answered the baron; and then both -recommenced to smoke yet more vigorously than before. After a -lapse of time during which two less serious men would have -discussed three or four such subjects of conversation, the count -recommenced: "What do you see so strange in my remark?" - -"It is to see a mind such as yours give way to similar ideas and -tales fit only, to say the best of it, to frighten children -with." - -"I, for my part, am yet more astonished to see a man so logical -as yourself refuse to believe it; and how dare you treat as -springing from weakness of mind that belief which you cannot deny -fortifies the soul and places it above the blows of adversity?" - -"The soul, the soul," replied the baron, "what is the soul? A -name without a substance, and I do not know what of indefinable -and vague. A something that we can neither see nor touch, and -which eludes both the senses and the understanding. I, for my -part, believe in nothing but that which I can see or touch." - -"I would remind you, my dear friend, that there are a crowd of -things in which you believe, without ever having seen them." - -"It is because science explains those things, and I believe in -her." - -"Science! why, you are too clever not to admit of her inability -to give you a full explanation of any one thing. Science proves -that the fact exists, but she does not explain the first cause of -its existence. She discovers the eternal laws which rule the -universe, and it is by that means that she conducts the -unprejudiced spirit from the discovery of things created to the -knowledge of the Creator of all things; but the first causes of -these same laws are utterly unknown to her." - -"And what tells you that she will not yet discover them?" - -"Never! For if the human understanding is immense, yet it is not -infinite. We have seen many discoveries and marvels; our -great-grandchildren will witness yet many more; but these will -not be produced in any more developed sense than that which I -just now indicated to you. The first causes will ever rest -unknown to them as for us." - -"But where are the proofs which prove the existence of the soul, -and render it palpable to the eyes of the understanding?" - -"The eyes of the heart, do they not equal those of the -understanding?" quickly answered the count. "What! You feel -within yourself a soul which thinks and which loves, which -possesses in itself a longing for happiness, a thirst for truth, -so utterly beyond the happiness and the truths of this world that -it can only be a _souvenir_ or a revelation, from on high, -of something purer and more perfect; you love the good and you -spurn the evil, even to self-sacrifice; nay, more, you prefer -death to the evil; you hear in the depths of your heart that -powerful voice which cries to all humanity that the soul cannot -die; and yet you ask for a proof of the existence of this soul, -and of its immortality! Death is visible to us on every side. He -menaces us; he presses upon us; all that is above, beneath, on -each side of us, is dead or dying. -{798} -Man alone drives back before him that supreme law of final decay -and oblivion; he whose life is comparatively much shorter than -that of all other existences in this world, he alone hopes for an -eternity which has no type here below, and which he could not -even have conceived in himself, had it not been revealed to him. -Surrounded by errors, he dreams the truth; wretched in this life, -he dreams of a happiness without alloy; mortal, he dreams of -immortality. Is not all this an infallible proof of his future -destiny? God, who created man, would not he be both cruel and -unjust had he given him all these profound aspirations toward a -future state of happiness, only to plunge him finally in the -abyss of eternal death? That secret voice speaks to you also, my -friend; it resounds in the silence of your heart, and offers to -you, as it does to others, its consoling hopes. Why do you not -listen to it? When you saw before you, pale and discolored, -destined to an inexorable decay, the body of her whom you so much -loved; when the mouth that had so lately spoken to you, closed -for ever; when those eyes, in which you had ever read their -tenderness, became fixed, dull, and without expression; when that -hand, which had but a moment before sought yours to press it for -a last time, fell for ever powerless, equally insensible to the -kisses with which you covered it, and to your tears, which rained -on it--" Here the baron, without trying to hide his emotion, -dried, with the back of his hand, the tears that this -recollection of his beloved Gertrude caused him. The count -continued: "That mouth, those eyes, that hand, they are the same; -but where is the soul which animated them? Did you not then hear -that interior voice which called with yet greater force, Thou -shalt see her again? That body which the earth will hide -to-morrow is but the form, and not the essence--the outward -shape, but not the living spirit. A soul which you loved, and -which rendered to thee an equal affection, animated that form, -and rendered it palpable to your senses; that soul has fled, and -the body falls back lifeless. The outward form rests here -motionless and insensible, but the soul has remounted toward that -celestial country where it shall await your coming, ready again -to love you with an affection which shall have to suffer no -second separation. And this is so true, my friend, that even -whilst you deny this consciousness that the soul has of its -future life and of its existence, you yourself obey that feeling; -for you are faithful, not to the simple memory of Gertrude, but -to Gertrude whom you feel to be still living, though far distant -from you, and you desire to be able to say to her, when the -moment of your meeting shall come: 'Thou seest that no other love -has ever been mingled with thine in my heart; my own beloved one, -thou didst wait for me, and I am come as full of thy recollection -and of thy love as on that day when thou didst leave me.'" - -Whilst the count was thus speaking, the baron had literally -hidden himself in clouds of smoke, out of which came forth, by -and by, a voice, trembling and changed by deep emotion, which -answered: - -"Ah! that I could believe as you do! In taking away from men -these consoling thoughts, the materialists cried loudly that they -were but working for the happiness of humanity yet wrapped in the -shades of superstition; whilst, in truth, they were but plunging -it into a gulf yet more profound and more implacable; for there -is no real happiness possible where there exists a constant fear -of losing that happiness. -{799} -I know very well that the error was much more pleasant than the -truth, and that in place of the hope, perhaps false, but -certainly full of consolation, to re-find our friends one day, -they have left us but the terrible certainty of having for ever -lost them, and that they leave us with the heavy burden of misery -which is crushing human nature, after having broken the very -support that aided man to bear its weight. Now that the evil is -done, how remedy it? And if I do not believe, what must I do that -I may believe?" - -"Acknowledge humbly our utter helplessness; humble the pride of -an imperfect reason, which is irritated by the thought that there -is something above it; listen to our conscience which speaks -within us; and then, meekly kneeling down before the God who has -created the universe, repeat to him, with simplicity and faith, -these words of the blind man in the gospel, who cried, 'Lord, -that I may receive my sight!' God is not deaf to persevering -prayer. Pray, therefore, and you shall see likewise." - -"Certainly," said the baron, "if I saw, I should at once believe; -but who ever saw a soul?" - -"My great-grandfather did," answered the count. - -"You are joking." - -"Not at all. Adolphus Shrann, my great-grandfather, saw not only -one soul, but even two!" - -"He was dreaming, then." - -"No, for he knew what he was going to see, and that thought alone -was sufficient to keep him awake." - -"Ah! then in that case somebody made a jest of him, and by some -optical delusion caused him to believe that he had seen a -veritable supernatural vision." - -"No, I assure you it was not so," replied the count. "I am -determined to relate the history to you in full, this evening; -and," added he, with a voice changed by the ardent friendship -that he felt for the baron, "I should esteem myself really happy -if its recital could cause you to kneel down side by side with me -before the altar of that God whom you are so worthy to know. It -is but there that we are separated, and did you know all that my -true friendship suffers in the thought that, after living these -long years together, and after having shared all the trials and -the pains of this life until our old age, notwithstanding this, I -should yet be alone when the hour comes to receive the -recompense. Ah! my dear Frederic, that single thought would -suffice to empoison the joys of paradise." - -Here the two friends warmly shook hands, and after having again -replenished their tankards and their pipes, the count commenced -the story that you are going to hear. - -"You know," said the count, "that the Shrann family has always -been cited as one of the most fruitful in all Germany." - -"And you! you certainly have not derogated from the example of -your ancestors," said the baron. - -"Neither had the Count Franz, the same who was raised from the -rank of baron to that of count by Ferdinand III., in 1645, since -he was the father of fifteen children, eight boys and seven -girls; and of these lads Adolphus, the seventh son, was the only -one who remained to perpetuate the name and race, for the others -gave their lives to defend their country and the empire. But if -this numerous offspring was an honor to the family, it was also a -great cause of anxiety to the count; it being a fact that though -a numerous family be a source of fortune to a poor farmer, such -is not the case with a poor nobleman; and it was no slight task -to place advantageously all these children, so that they might -worthily bear and uphold their family name. -{800} -Count Franz made, therefore, the most active endeavors to marry -his daughters and to establish his sons; and he succeeded as well -as he had hoped, since only one son remained at home, and that -was Albert, the youngest child; nor did the future of this the -last scion of his race much disturb the count, destined as he -was, by him, from his very youth, to enter the church. But divine -Providence often smiles at and overthrows our wisest -calculations, and this is what occurred in Albert's case; for, -notwithstanding the serious tendency given to his education, it -was found that of the eight sons of the count this, the youngest, -showed the greatest courage and taste for war. This martial -spirit was the great despair of his tutor; for the lad left on -the smallest pretext his studies and his books to play with an -old rusty sword that he had found in one of the lumber-rooms of -the castle, and with this he amused himself for hours, fencing -against his desk or stool, and shouting all the war cries and -songs that he had heard or read. When the vexed tutor complained -of his pupil's conduct to the count, and of his little attention -to his more serious studies, joined to his openly expressed -contempt for them, the count answered, 'Bah! never mind; time -will change all this, and you know that it is only natural that -he should have imbibed a little of the family taste for war.' The -seventh son, Adolphus, likewise distinguished himself by his -recklessness of danger and by his great courage. This conformity -of tastes, yet more than the similarity of their ages, had -closely united these the two youngest brothers together; so that -when the day came that the younger saw the elder leave home as a -lieutenant in the army, to engage in that life of adventure and -danger of which they had so often talked together, he was seized -with a yet stronger repugnance to the future destined for him. -The prospect of spending his days in the retirement of the -cloister, instead of sharing with his brother the glorious -achievements of a soldier's life, inspired him with not only a -strong distaste for this future, but even with an aversion to all -that then surrounded him. Albert fell into a great despair and -lethargy; no longer did his tutor dread that rusty sword with -which Albert had been wont to frighten him; not that his studies -progressed any better for that; for although he read with -pleasure the Iliad and the AEneid, he shrunk back with distaste -from the study of theology, and when any observations were made -to him on the subject, alleged that 'he should always know enough -to cause him to die from _ennui_.' Not that the sentiment of -religious feeling was dead within him, far from that; he was, on -the contrary, animated with the liveliest and most sincere faith; -nor was it that he felt an invincible repugnance to the -obligations of the priesthood, for he was generous, sober, -charitable, and patient, and therefore esteemed slightly the -sacrifices that the ecclesiastical state requires. What he -disliked and dreaded above all was a life of uniformity and of -repose, such as seemed to him the life of a priest. This -antipathy to the future for which he was destined grew from day -to day, when, unable at last to fight any longer against his -inclinations, he armed himself with all his resolution, and -respectfully represented to his father his invincible dislike to -becoming a priest, and asked of him the favor of being allowed to -become a soldier. -{801} -Great was the discomfiture of the count on hearing this demand. -What was he to do? he who had made all his arrangements in order -that Albert might become a bishop; and here was this son who in -place of bearing the mitre and pastoral staff, desired nothing -less than to wield the sword and don the coat of mail. - -"'It is very perplexing,' at last answered the count, after -having scratched his ear several times; 'this idea of yours -completely upsets all my plans; but rather than see you become a -bad priest it shall be as you desire. Although,' again added he -with a heavy sigh, 'it is very perplexing.' - -"Albert, after having again explained to his father all the -reasons for his repugnance to the life of a priest, continued, -'You see, my dear father, that it is not a taste for the -pleasures of the world that drives me from the priesthood; it is -only my dislike to the monotony of such a life that hinders me -from embracing it. My vocation leads me to follow a career of -danger and of change, and not one of ease and uniformity. But I -think that there is a means of conciliating the ideas that your -tenderness had suggested for me and my own tastes.' - -"'I desire nothing better than that,' answered the count with -visible chagrin, 'but how to do so, that is the question. I wish -you to become a bishop, and you desire to become a captain; now, -we are no longer in the days when bishops wore a suit of mail -inside their robes.' - -"'That is true, dear father; but you could place me in a position -to become one day a knight-commander,' (here the count lifted up -his head with an air of satisfaction.) 'The order of St. John of -Jerusalem,' continued Albert, 'is a glorious order, assimilating -to the church by its vows and its constitutions, and to the army -by its obligations and labors. The Turks are now menacing -Christendom; what more glorious use can one make of one's sword -than to defend one's brothers in Jesus Christ, and to oppose -one's self against the barbarity of the Mussulman, who already -regards Europe as a wild beast does his prey? What more glorious -destiny than to consecrate one's courage and one's life to force -back even to the very sands of Asia those hordes of infidels -whose domination, similar to a pestilential atmosphere, has -brought ruin and death upon the fertile countries where it -extends? - -"'If, then, as I hope, you will consent to my desires, I shall -find in that career the occasion to place in a yet higher rank -the glorious name that you have given me; and thus both my -ancestors and yourself shall have reason to be proud of their -descendant." - -"My worthy ancestor, on hearing this proposition, felt a similar -satisfaction to that which a man would feel who, after being shut -up in a chest during some hours, could at last stretch his limbs -out again in liberty. Therefore was it that he seized eagerly a -proposition which drew him out of a great difficulty; for between -ourselves, be it said, the worthy man was more accustomed to -fighting than to solving difficult questions. It was easy for the -count to prove the sixteen quarters of nobility which the rules -of the order required for the admission of Germans; moreover, he -had several friends in the order whose influence he made use of; -nothing, therefore, opposed itself to the realization of Albert's -desires; and, in consequence, a few weeks after the above related -conversation, he left Germany, and became page to Nicholas -Coroner, then Grand Master of the order, and Governor of Malta. -{802} -In this position he did not fail to make himself very soon -remarked by his dauntless courage and impetuous audacity. The -requisite occasions did not fail him; each day the galleys of the -order darted from their ports, as the eagle from his eyrie, and, -powerful as the eagle, seized on some one of the innumerable -Turkish pirates which were then ravaging the coasts of the -Mediterranean, burning villages, and carrying off their wretched -inhabitants to reduce them into a painful and degrading slavery. -In this manner the order rendered the most important services to -Europe, whilst the most adventurous spirit in it found means, in -this incessant warfare, to satisfy his thirst for danger. Albert, -ardent and indefatigable, scorning danger and braving Death, who -seemed to shrink back before so much bravery and audacity, fought -so often and so well, that scarcely was the time of his novitiate -finished, than, by the general consent of his companions in arms, -and the approbation of the grand master, he was created knight. -In truth, it was impossible to show more valor and -self-diffidence. This latter quality shows forth the more, that -it was not an ordinary virtue in the order. Some years thus -rolled on, during which the bravery of Albert had caused him to -be known and remarked in all the commanderies of Europe; but the -time was come when at length he should appear on a field more -worthy of his talents. - -"I will not here give you a recital of the events which brought -the troops of Mohammed IV. under the walls of Vienna; since, in -the first place, you recollect them as well as I do; and in the -second place, it is too sad a thought for him who feels within -him a soul truly German, to reflect that there was a day when -German hearts beat with fear before the standards of Mohammed! At -the time when the Hungarians, with a blindness that even their -excess of patriotism does not excuse, called into the heart of -Europe those born enemies of European civilization, Albert was in -Germany. At the first news which reached him of the march of -Mustapha on Vienna, he hurried to the commanderies that were -nearest to him, and animating the zeal of the knights, united -together without great difficulty a few of his companions, with -whom he hastened on to that city. They reached Vienna on the very -day that Leopold I. left it; and terrible was the consternation -then reigning in that town, abandoned by those who ought to have -been the first to face the danger and animate the courage of -others by their example. - -"The brave Count of Staremberg commanded the fortress which he -did not dare hope to save, although he was determined to die in -its defence. The aid that Albert brought was joyfully accepted by -him; for he had but eight or ten thousand men to defend the city -against the Turkish army, whose number was three hundred -thousand; and besides this, the city was badly provisioned and -insufficiently armed. Nevertheless, the defence was organized in -the best manner possible; arms were distributed to all the -citizens; and even the schoolboys were taught to carry arms, and -perform the active service of the defence of the walls; whilst -the entire population determined to suffer famine, and all the -other horrors of a prolonged siege, rather than yield tamely to -the enemy. These preparations made, they awaited the infidels; -nor did they wait long; for in a few days after the departure of -the emperor, the Turkish army encamped before Vienna, and opened -its first trench. -{803} -Then began in earnest that terrible siege. Albert performed -prodigies of valor; now directing a sortie, then driving back an -assault, ever in the foremost rank, he, as it were, multiplied -himself, going on every side; he foresaw and provided against all -emergencies; his courage excited even the most timid, whilst his -unchangeable calm reassured their fears. In the midst of all this -peril, which seemed endless, he alone seemed at his ease; so much -so, that the Count of Staremberg used to say, 'Oh! that I had -only one hundred knights like him; for then, in place of resting -here blocked up, like a rat in his hole, I would drive back, and -follow up these three hundred thousand Turks to the very walls of -Constantinople!' During all this time, notwithstanding the -pressing demands of the Pope, Innocent IX., and in spite of the -necessity which bound the other Christian nations to prevent -Vienna's falling into the hands of the infidels, the aid so much -needed was but slowly organized. Already had the siege lasted two -months, and nothing had yet happened to relieve the despair of -the wretched inhabitants, already weakened by famine. There -seemed to them no alternative between a cruel and lingering death -and a yet more painful slavery. Almost were they reduced to the -last extremities. It was quite impossible to obtain provisions, -and the ammunition was nearly exhausted, whilst many of the -cannon had become useless for service; and yet no voice was heard -that spoke of surrender. Soldiers and citizens, alike excited by -the example and firmness of the chiefs, supported with courage -and resignation all the horrors of a desperate defence. At last -the signals and banners of King John Sobieski were seen from the -walls as he came to their rescue, leading the combined forces of -Europe. It was time! The King of Poland, notwithstanding the -immense inferiority of his troops in point of numbers, hesitated -not a moment to take the most favorable position for giving -battle to the enemy. Mustapha, on his side, divided his troops -into two divisions, the one destined to make a last and desperate -assault upon the city, and to enter it by main force through the -breaches already made in its walls; whilst the second division -was to stop the passage of Sobieski, and to hinder him from -giving any aid to the besieged. But the impetuosity of the attack -of the Christians was such that the battle became but a rout on -the side of the Mussulmans, as they fled before their pursuers on -every side, and were as soon and as completely dispersed as is a -wisp of straw before a hurricane. Vienna free, Europe breathed -again, being once more delivered from the immediate fear of the -crescent, whilst awaiting the day when the Mussulman should be -for ever driven back to the arid sands from whence he came. This -heroic defence spread a new lustre upon the arms and reputation -of the order. But none of its knights had acquired a similar -renown to that of Albert. The name of this young warrior was in -every mouth, his souvenir in every heart, and he shared with John -Sobieski the enthusiastic ovation made by the Viennese to their -deliverers. The loudest acclamations of admiration and gratitude -greeted him during the day that he accompanied the King of -Poland, who, still covered with the blood of his enemies, went in -solemn state to the cathedral of St. Stephen, there to assist at -the Te Deum which was sung in thanksgiving to God for this -miraculous delivery of the city from the Turks. -{804} -Mustapha, forced to make such a speedy retreat, had left in the -possession of the Christians all his treasures, tents, and -baggage. Among the spoil was found the standard of the Prophet. -This, it was decided, should be offered to the pope as a gage and -as a memorial of the victory, and it was Albert who was chosen to -perform this honorable mission. His old father nearly died with -joy on learning of the glorious renown of his son; and I leave -you to guess if he did not praise himself in his heart for not -having resisted the desires of Albert. The old count foresaw in -the future his family giving a grand-master to the Order of St. -John, and he trembled with happiness in thinking of the honor -which would thus result to the Shrann race and name. In fact, one -could hardly say where would have stopped the worldly honors of -Albert, had not God reserved for him a yet more sweet and -glorious recompense for his labors in his service." - -At this point of his story, the count took a few minutes' repose, -minutes that were fully employed, to judge by the manner in which -he emptied the tankard that stood before him; and as the two -friends did nothing without each other's aid or example, the -baron hastened to imitate his friend; and when his tankard left -his lips, there did not remain sufficient in it to satisfy the -thirst of a wren. Then, grasping with a firm hand the immense jug -of beer which awaited their good pleasure, he filled his own -glass and passed the jug on to the count, who, with an equal -dignity and silence, took his share. It is true that the baron -paid but a slight attention to all these details of a family -history that the count so complacently related to him; perhaps he -was getting impatient for the appearance of the two souls that -had been promised him; but he let no indication of his impatience -escape him, and continued to smoke on with great tranquillity, -puffing forth clouds of smoke which seemed timed to the cadenced -sounds of an old clock that stood beside him, whose sculptured -oak case would have delighted the taste of an antiquary. At -length the count recommenced: "The Turks appeared to have -abandoned their projects upon Germany, but the war yet continued -with activity between themselves and the order and the Venetians -on the shores of the Mediterranean. Notwithstanding the greatest -sacrifices, and the most valiant efforts on the part of the -Turks, Candia had fallen into the hands of the order; a new -expedition was then resolved upon to lay siege to Coron, and -Hector de La Tour de Maubourg, having been chosen as its -commander, he made choice of Albert for his lieutenant. - -"Upon one of the galleys that the pope had joined to the allied -fleets of the Knights of St. John and of the Venetians, the young -Giovanni Balbo, only heir to one of the most distinguished names -in the republic of Venice, had been sent out by his father. This -illustrious family had long been a friend to our house, and, in -fact, we counted several alliances between the two families. -When, therefore, Giovanni learnt that Albert was in the fleet, he -made several attempts to become acquainted with him; and -succeeded so well, that in a short time they became the greatest -friends in the world. - -"On this event, so slight in its appearance, nevertheless -depended the destiny of Albert. You must have remarked, my -friend, that it is the same with us all. The acts the most -important in our lives, those which decide our future, and from -which result our happiness or misery in this world, have always -as their first commencement, some circumstance which is perfectly -indifferent in itself, but the results of which have an influence -on our entire destinies. - -{805} - -"One would say that divine Providence mocked our proud reason, in -thus making use of events which at first sight seem so utterly -unfitted to arrive at the end which it proposes to itself; and I -might even add, that this impenetrable mystery would alone -suffice to eyes less wilfully blinded than your own, to prove the -existence of an unseen power that is unrestrained by human laws -and prejudices. Does God owe to each one of us a miracle? Ought -he to suspend for each individual man the eternal laws which -govern the universe? Can we not believe in him unless we see the -very rivers flow back to their sources? Does he not manifest -himself to us at each instant of our lives, on each side of us -and in us? Is not the admirable connection of events which exists -in this world sufficient to make the certitude of his power and -of his incessant action shine forth to the vision of the soul, as -shines forth before the eyes of the body the brilliant multitude -of planets that have each their appointed path in the wide space -of heaven? The siege was terrible, and its success cost to the -Order of Malta one and twenty of its bravest knights; Hector de -la Tour de Maubourg was among the number of the dead, and Albert, -who had flown to his side to protect him, had fallen covered with -wounds, which caused his life to be despaired of. His youth, the -strength of his constitution, and, above all, the tender care -taken of him by his friend Giovanni, finally triumphed over the -severity of his wounds, and as soon as he was sufficiently -recovered to bear the fatigues of the voyage, Giovanni brought -him to Venice to visit his family, who received him with the -warmest hospitality. I have told you that Giovanni was the only -heir of the Balbo family; this was but partly true, since there -were two daughters, Flaminia, who had then attained her -eighteenth year, and Antonia, who was but seventeen. - -"Nothing could be more unlike than these two sisters, Flaminia -and Antonia. Although both were in looks and in character equally -charming, Heaven had gifted them with very dissimilar talents and -tastes. Nevertheless, this did not impede the existence of an -intimate friendship between these two natures so diametrically -opposed; and, later in their lives, it proved no hinderance to a -complete confidence. It is thanks to this confidence--that arose -between them one day by reason of an imperious necessity of -mutual aid and sympathy--that I can now describe the more -intimate particularities of this history. Antonia, as you may -judge from the portrait of her hanging in the room, was one of -that sort of beauties that seem to overflow with vigor and life. -Her complexion slightly brunette; her eyes of a deep black, ever -glistening under her well-arched eye-brows, notwithstanding the -depth of her eye-lashes; her mouth ever smiling, with its full -and firmly designed lips; her perfectly chiselled nose, whose -nostrils dilated at every instant; and, above all, the extreme -vivacity of her face, where was portrayed, as in a mirror, every -emotion that agitated her, even the most fugitive; all in her -appearance indicated one of those vigorous natures that have need -of real physical exertion. An over-rich development of physical -forces impedes the flight of the imagination. Thus, Antonia was -always remarked for the vivacity of her impressions, for the -impetuosity of her sentiments, and for the sallies of her quick -and brilliant spirit. -{806} -But that world of reverie, peopled with vague and indefinable -forms; that world illumined by a supernatural light, where we -catch the glimpses of a happiness unknown here below; that world -which is created by the soul and colored by the imagination, was -to her quite unknown. Whilst her sister delighted in all this, -and listened with her whole heart to those harmonious voices -which spoke to her of a coming happiness penetrating and sweet as -the joys of heaven, Antonia was bounding like a young fawn among -the trees of their garden, or, mounted on a spirited horse, -rapidly ascended the paths of the mountains that surrounded the -town. The same impetuosity was to be remarked in her sympathies -and antipathies; she could not moderate her expression of them, -nor did she even seek to impose upon herself a useless constraint -on this subject. On the other hand, Flaminia seemed already to -bear in her entire appearance the impress of those sorrows that -she was destined to suffer. Her look, so sweet and sad even in -its smile, was half veiled with her eyelids, and gave to her face -an indefinable expression of melancholy. That expression could be -again found in her delicately shaped mouth, and even in her -movements full of languor and grace. Whilst Antonia, lively and -petulant, employed by every outward effort the too abundant -forces of her life and youth, Flaminia seemed to place hers in -reserve for the terrible moment of need. She concentrated in the -depths of her soul all her impressions; nor could she give to -herself a reason for so doing. She had the consciousness of her -exquisite sensibility, and protected it, under the shield of -indifference and affected calm, against all contact that could -have wounded it. But under this apparent indolence an attentive -eye could have easily recognized the marks of an ardent soul and -of a strong nervous organization. A sudden flame would at moments -lighten up those glances usually veiled in indifference, the soft -and musical voice took an accent of enthusiasm, and her whole -expression changed, being animated by the power of an emotion -that she no longer restrained, and whose vibrations were the more -violent, because her soul, far from pouring itself on all that -surrounded her, as did Antonia's, was one of those that at a -given hour in life is destined to concentrate all its force on a -single thought and on an only affection. Outwardly cold and -impassible, her excessive sensibility showed itself by scarcely -perceptible signs; but later in life, happy to find at her side a -heart filled with similar ideas, all this ice melted. Is there -not in us, at the moment when life commences, that is to say, at -the epoch when the soul awakes from the long slumber of infancy, -a vague presentiment of our future destinies? For the same reason -that we have so often seen the bravest soldiers tremble on the -morning of a battle, feeling beforehand that death will call them -during the day, is there not likewise in us a voice which warns -us of the trials that we shall have later in our lives to endure? -The birds have a presentiment of the coming storm, even when the -atmosphere is yet full of splendor; the very insects that crawl -upon the ground foresee in the autumn the rigors of the -approaching winter, and envelop their eggs with a double covering -of silk; and why should man be less favored than the birds or -insects? Why should he be the only creature that is delivered up, -as it were, with his hands and feet bound, to the rigors of the -future? -{807} -It is possible that Flaminia obeyed that sentiment of moral -modesty that causes us to hide from all eyes our better -qualities--those secret riches of our hearts, that we may lavish -them without stint upon the hidden object that we have chosen. -She knew herself to be incapable of half-loving any object, and -she felt that her heart was a fragile instrument; that, if -touched by a skilful hand, it would render harmonious sounds, but -that it would infallibly break under a rude or awkward touch; and -she wished to preserve it from such a fate. None of those -surrounding her suspected the power of this instrument; on the -contrary, her great outward calmness passed for the evident -indication of a certain coldness of heart, whilst the expansive -nature of her sister was considered as the sign of an extreme -sensibility. Flaminia was much grieved at being thus -misunderstood, and very often, in the silence of the night, -bitter tears flowed from her eyes; very often the ivory crucifix -which hung at the head of her couch, saw opening before it that -soul so full of purity and love, that came to seek, at that -inexhaustible source, a present consolation and a future -strength. Sometimes she fancied that she heard in herself the -distant mutterings of the heart's tempest; then she prayed with -ardor, almost feverishly, as she listened to the murmur within -her of those mysterious voices which warned her of a near peril, -and told her to spread around her those riches of affection full -of loving ardor, that then devoured her, and that one day would -consume her. In these moments of instinctive alarm, she drew -herself yet closer to God, hiding herself under the shadow of his -protecting hand, ever lifted up over those who with faith invoke -it; and then she felt herself reassured. At such moments as these -was it that she felt herself to be so completely alone, -notwithstanding the parental tenderness that surrounded her, and -she suffered by this loneliness. In truth, Flaminia was -right--she was alone; for though both the Prince and Princess -Balbo cherished their daughter, yet time seemed to have passed on -for her alone, and not for them. The child had merged into the -young girl; the _naïve_ graces of the infant had given place -to the more opened charms of youth, yet they had remarked nothing -of all this. They dreamt not even that parental affection ought -to be modelled after the child of whom it is the object, and -ought to transform itself and grow with that child. They did not -understand that the protecting tenderness accorded to the infant -who shelters himself under it as does a bird in its nest, becomes -insufficient for the heart that time has developed, and that has -need of leaning upon sentiments less protecting and more -friendly. One of the most dangerous shoals in the difficult task -of educating children, is doubtless that of noticing the first -moments when the child whom we have held until then under our -hand, and caused, as it were, to live of our own life, lays aside -the trammels of infancy, and seeks to fly with his own wings. It -is then that we ought to know how so to modify our affection that -we may inspire that freedom and that confidence in ourselves that -will protect this second period of life, as a salutary fear -protects the first. - -"Now for the development of these sentiments, so fragile and -delicate, we must seize the instant when the child commences to -become a man, when he first feels awakening in him thoughts and -sensations that are his own, and not simply the echo or -reflection of our own. -{808} -It is at that moment, and then only, that we can ever arouse such -confidence. If we allow this fleeting and critical period of his -existence to escape us, never can we hope to recall it; and -however powerful may be his sense of filial affection, the child -will never again show us that confidence that we have repulsed; -we shall have left his young heart, just awakening to the dawn of -life, in an isolation that is always painful, and oftentimes -dangerous, since it lends to the already strong voice of the -passions the charms of solitude and mystery. Unhappily--and this -is almost always through an ill-advised tenderness--we too often -close our eyes to this transformation; habit blinds us, and the -child escapes from our control. Such had been the case with -Flaminia. Her mother was one of the most virtuous and excellent -of women; the prince, as I have already told you, adored his -children; but both of them, as well as Giovanni, who was fifteen -years older than the eldest of his sisters, regarded these two -lovely girls but as the two children who so lately had charmed -them by their _naïveté_ and grace. This situation, in which -the two sisters shared, should have sooner given rise to a -confidence equal to their friendship; but besides that their -difference of tastes often separated them, no exterior event had -yet happened to show them the power of their mutual affection and -the community of ideas that ought to be its consequence. Thus -Flaminia lived alone and gave herself up without reserve to the -sweet charm of vague reverie; she listened with a deep joy to -those mysterious aspirations that spoke to her of happiness, nor -could she assign any form to these thoughts, that, all uncertain -as they were, yet threw her into a delicious trouble. She sought -solitude, and spent long hours sitting at the balcony of her -window, her forehead leaning on her long white hands, while her -eyes filled with tears that had no sorrow as their source, as she -regarded the deep and large purple shadows which the setting sun -cast on the blue waters of the Mediterranean. Although she was -unconscious of the meaning of these frequent reveries, and would -have been unable to explain the reason of that melancholy, so -full of mingled pain and pleasure, into which she loved to plunge -herself, yet she hid most carefully from every eye the state of -her mind, dreading above all things lest any one should suspect -the happiness she felt in yielding to its charm. At the moment -when providence was about to bring together Albert and Flaminia, -he also found himself in some such a state of mind as that which -I have just portrayed. A glorious renown had at first seemed to -him the only thing in this world worthy of envy; but that idol so -ardently followed had been, little by little, despoiled of its -brilliant _prestige_; the nearer he approached it, the more -faint and dim became the aureole of splendor with which he had -believed it surrounded; and when he at last saw himself in full -possession of his desire, when the renown of his name had -resounded to the most distant commanderies of his order, which -regarded him as its firmest support and most assured hope; then -he saw with affright that a glorious name is insufficient in -itself, and that it must be regarded in a Christian life, or at -least in connection with some one who is dear to us, and whose -heart would rejoice and sympathize with our glory. When Albert at -last understood the truth, he felt himself sad and unhappy; for -be looked vainly around him--he was alone! -{809} -An immense void then made itself felt in his soul--a void that -even his glory was unable to hide from him, and which friendship -was powerless to fill. Like Flaminia, he felt himself isolated on -the earth; but while her solitude was sweetened by a hope as -vague as her thoughts and desires, that of Albert was a -bottomless abyss, full of discouragement and despair. - -"The profound darkness of night then fell upon his soul, an -obscurity similar to those sombre and cold nights in winter, when -the eye sees not a single star piercing the sky covered with -clouds; and when the sad heart hears but the moans of the wind -that bends the tops of the bare trees as it passes over them, -mingled with the boding cry of the birds of prey which slowly -wheel around in the thick and misty atmosphere. A lassitude had -fallen on him similar to that which a traveller feels at the -sight of a straight and monotonous road which extends as far as -the eye can reach in a dry and burning plain. Seeing nothing -around him that seemed worthy either a desire or an effort, he -allowed himself to be carried slowly on by time toward the common -end; nor did he hasten that course by his vows; for even whilst -he firmly believed in the joys of eternity, he felt not his soul -drawn toward them. If he had run forward to meet death, it was -through his natural intrepidity; for he felt in its presence but -the same desolating indifference that he had shown at the moment -of his recovery to life. Such were the secret sentiments of -Albert and Flaminia when their mutual destiny placed them for the -first time in presence of each other in the ancient _salon_ -of the Palace Balbo. We are both of us, my dear Frederic, so far -distant from the time when our hearts first experienced these -impressions of affection, that there now remains to us but a very -slight recollection." - -"You are deceived," interrupted the baron; "from the day when for -the first time I saw my poor Gertrude, until that when I placed -her in her tomb, I have forgotten nothing of all that has passed -between us. There is not an hour of that much-regretted time -which is not present in my memory; not an incident, however -slight it may have been, that I cannot recall in even its -slightest details!" - -"You can the more easily understand, then," continued the count, -"how it was that these two souls united themselves so closely the -one to the other, that there soon existed between them but a -single life, a single taste, and a single thought; and how it was -that they both preserved, even until their very last moment, the -most absolute certainty of their mutual affection, without ever -having interchanged a single word on the subject. Scarcely had -they been but a few days together, when already Albert had -penetrated into all the thoughts of Flaminia. He read in her -heart as in an open book; he divined all its secrets; that soul -which to all others was closed, he saw opening, and breathed all -its perfumes< foresaw all its destinies! Was it, then, in a few -commonplace conversations that he had gained so complete an -insight into that heart habitually closed? No; he had not judged -Flaminia by any acquaintance that he had gained of her character -by her words or actions; he had only looked upon her, and -instantly, by intuition, he had understood her; and this was so -true, that there were moments when it might have been said that -he saw her think. On her side, Flaminia saw the soul of Albert by -that same light which I should call supernatural, did I not -consider it as one of the eternal laws instituted by the Creator. -{810} -She knew him to be loyal and generous, and she saw his -unchangeable goodness and patience; not because he had had any -occasion of showing them before her, but because a lively and -penetrating light thus showed him to her. All that Albert felt -found in her an echo; the mirror does not more faithfully produce -the image than did her soul his slightest sensations. By his side -she felt happy, because she felt herself understood and loved. A -new existence then opened for her; movement and activity -succeeded to her vague reveries and habitual indolence; new -horizons showed themselves each day to her soul. Nature became -more beautiful, the flowers more sweet, the sun more brilliant; -it seemed to her that her eyes had been shut until then, and that -they now opened for the first time. At the same time that a new -affection acquired over her soul a stronger influence than her -affection for her family had yet exercised on her, even these -became more lively and more complete. Nevertheless, it was no -longer at that source whence she had so long drawn her sensations -and ideas that she now went to seek them: all came to her from -Albert, or had reference to him. She saw by his eyes and thought -by his ideas; her tastes, her desires, were nothing else than the -tastes and desires of Albert. Were he present, she seemed to live -with delight; in his absence it seemed to her that her life lost -its intensity, and all became sad and indifferent to her; he was -the soul that gave life to all. In a word, he had become a part -of herself, an indispensable condition for the perfection of her -being and existence. I have no need to tell you that she did not -render to herself so exact an account of the state of her soul as -that which I have just sketched to you. She had, in truth, the -consciousness of the change that was taking place in her, but the -reasons of this change remained enveloped in a profound obscurity -that her spirit could not penetrate; she obeyed her feelings of -tenderness without being able to analyze them. And yet the more -she felt that Albert alone filled her heart and thought, the more -she instinctively enveloped herself exteriorly, with regard to -him, in her mantle of ordinary indifference. But when hazard left -her alone with Albert, then a sudden transformation took place in -her. All that indifference melted away, as do the last snows of -springtime under the heat of the sun. She delivered herself up -unrestrainedly to the generous enthusiasm of her loving nature, -her expression became more gentle, her voice more tender, and her -heart beat faster in her bosom, which rose and fell agitated by -an emotion so delicious and powerful that it resembled even -grief; for in our weak nature, joy and suffering have a very near -resemblance." - - Concluded In Next Number. - ----------- - -{811} - - - John Sterling. - - -Whatever importance may attach to the life and writings of John -Sterling, is due to the fact of his having been a representative -man. Without being supremely original, without anything wonderful -in his career, he has been made the subject of a memoir by two -eminent men, Archdeacon Hare and Thomas Carlyle. The one -represents Anglican belief, which is partial infidelity, and the -other nineteenth-century belief, which is infidelity, pure and -simple; and both the one and the other have drawn the portrait of -their friend and hero in colors of their own mind. Archdeacon -Hare has traced with regret the lapse of Sterling into unbelief, -while Carlyle has seen in that very lapse a rise into -transcendental faith of the highest order. Neither of them has -neglected, but, on the contrary, both keenly appreciated -Sterling's literary labors and merits; and both would concur in -pointing him out as a type of that new creation of thinkers and -supposed philosophers in whom doubt and trust are ever contending -for the mastery--who are ever seeking, and never able to come to -the knowledge of the truth--a mongrel breed, sprung from an -unnatural union between scepticism and Christianity. - -John Sterling was born at Kaimes Castle, in the Isle of Bute, on -the 20th of July, 1806. His father rented a small farm attached -to the Castle, and the first four years of Johnny's life were -spent on a wild-wooded, rocky coast, among headlands, storms, and -thundering breakers. Nature gave him a good schooling; for, when -he left the Isle of Bute, it was for the well-grassed, -many-brooked village of Llanblethian, in the Vale of Glamorgan. -Five years more passed in that pleasant spot, and time never -effaced the lovely images it imprinted on Sterling's mind. Every -line and hue, he said, were more deeply and accurately fixed in -his memory than those of any scene he had since beheld. -Beautifully and with deep feeling did he retrace the impressions -they made on his childish fancy, in an article written in the -_Literary Chronicle_ in his twenty-second year. He had not -seen the spot since he was eight years old, yet he described the -old ruin of St. Quentin's Castle, the orchard of his home, the -school where he used to read the well-thumbed _History of -Greece_ by Oliver Goldsmith, and the garden-sports of himself -and his playmates, with as much distinctness as if they had been -_souvenirs_ of the previous spring. Very precious are such -recollections, for one personal experience is worth a hundred -facts learnt from books. - -When Napoleon returned from Elba, in 1815, little Sterling was in -the midst of French school-boys, at Passy, shouting, _Vive -l'Empereur_. His father had become a writer in the -_Times_, under the name of _Vetus_, and was in hopes of -being appointed one of its foreign correspondents. The Hundred -Days which convulsed Europe drove the Sterlings from France; and -fortune, who tries literary aspirants with her ficklest moods, -shifted the father from Russell Square and Queen Square, to -Blackfriars Road and the Grove, at Blackheath. At last he rode at -anchor, and was permanently connected with the _Times_. -{812} -John was sent to Dr. Burney's school, at Greenwich, and afterward -came under the tuition of Dr. Waite, at Blackheath, and of Dr. -Trollope, the master of Christ's Hospital. He was twelve years -old when his younger brother, Edward, died. It was an early age -to become familiar with death. John felt the loss as if he had -been a Catholic. God or nature, one knows not which, taught him -the communion of saints. "Edward is near me now," he used to say -to himself. "Edward is watching me. He knows what I am doing and -thinking. He is sad for my faults. I must, I will strive to do -what he would approve." Very active was his mind at this period. -His keen eye observed everything; his soul was winged. He read -the entire _Edinburgh Review_ through, from the beginning, -and cart-loads of books from circulating libraries, "wading," as -Carlyle says, "like Ulysses toward his palace, through infinite -dung." No advantages of education were denied him. At the -University of Glasgow he was tutored by Mr. Jacobson, since -Regius Professor of Divinity at Oxford and Bishop of Chester; and -in 1824, when he was in his nineteenth year, he removed to -Trinity College, Cambridge, where another man of eminence, -Julius, afterward Archdeacon Hare, became his tutor and his -lasting friend. He was in all respects worthy of such friendship. -A youth who, with a delicate frame, could stand waist-deep in the -river, to aid in passing buckets to and fro, when the buildings -of King's Court were on fire, must have had a singular disregard -of self, and readiness for all moral enterprise. "Somebody must -be in it," he said, when his tutor remonstrated with him. "Why -not I, as well as another?" Friendships were the best gift -Sterling received from Cambridge. The classical knowledge he -acquired there was not very exact, nor did he submit to any -strict discipline. In the Union he was "the master-bowman," and -out of such comrades as Charles Buller, Richard Milnes, John -Kemble, Richard Trench, and Frederic Maurice, he made of the two -last dear and intimate friends. He and Frederic Maurice, indeed, -married two sisters; and to him and Coleridge he owed chiefly the -formation of his opinions and character. The latter was at that -time beginning to found a school of thought, and the former, -Frederic Maurice, is now, and has long been, a recognized leader -of the Broad Church party, in the Anglican communion. - -If ever there was a moonstruck prophet, Samuel Taylor Coleridge -was one. As a poet, he was a star; as a divine, an _ignis -fatuus_. He subjected faith to reason, coquetted with -infidelity, embraced Germanism, and discoursed by the hour on the -church and the _Logos_ in language all musical and shining, -but conveying no meaning whatever to any one of his hearers. -[Footnote 228] - - [Footnote 228: Carlyle's _Life of Sterling_, p. 73.] - -Your reason (_Vernunft_) bound you to accept a multitude of -facts and principles which your understanding (_Verstand_) -rejected. With a good understanding only you might be an -unbeliever, but reason would exalt you into a Christian. -Everything depended on this distinction, and if you could not -comprehend it, (which nobody could,) so much the worse for you. -Yet English society was fast being ensnared by such theosophic -nonsense and hazy "Kantean transcendentalism." The clear dogmas -of traditional faith and the simplicity of Scripture, likewise, -were being observed in a cloud of jargon. -{813} -Dr. Pusey in his youth was sliding into German subtleties; Isaac -Taylor was watering Christianity down into human philosophy; Dr. -Arnold was pleading for an Erastian church comprising all sects -and denominations; Dr. Hampden's terminology was effacing the -time-hallowed language of the schools; Coleridge, with his -drunken imagination, and Milman, with his rationalistic solution -of Scripture miracles, were paving the way for Strauss and Renan; -and if it had not been for the Oxford revival of primitive -tradition and patristic lore, the English mind would have -wandered away into the bleak desert of infidelity without one -oasis--one guiding path by which to return to the fresh pasture -of truth and peace. - -Sterling, unfortunately, was not brought under this happier -influence. The seed sown in him by Coleridge and his compeers -produced, as we shall see, its natural fruit, and made him a -forerunner of that worship of humanity which is now to so large -an extent superseding the worship of Christ. After spending a -year in Trinity College, Cambridge, he migrated to Trinity Hall, -and in 1827, quitted the university altogether. He had to seek a -profession, and knew not what to choose. He tried a private -secretaryship, and ended, of course, with literature--the -profession of all clever men who have none. For that, and -especially for periodical literature, he was best fitted, for his -thoughts were quick and brilliant, "beautifullest sheet-lightning -not to be condensed into thunderbolts," deriving their momentum -from swift strokes, not from metallic weight. - -The copyright of the _Athenaeum_ being for sale, Sterling -and his gifted friends thought it would make a fine opening for -them. He wrote much in it in the years 1828 and 1829, together -with Maurice, who was editor. His "_Shades of the Dead_," -"Alexander the Great," "Joan of Arc," "Wycliffe," "Columbus," -"Gustavus Adolphus," "Milton," and "Burns," are full of thought, -color, and enthusiasm, but they produce a saddening effect. They -are "a beautiful mirage in the dry wilderness; but you cannot -quench your thirst there!" Sterling knew not the stand-point from -which alone the characters of past times can be duly appreciated. -He describes Joan of Arc as "perhaps the most wonderful, -exquisite, and complete personage in all the history of the -world," yet he maintains that "her persuasion of the outward -appearance of divine agency was caused by a _diseased_ -excitability of the fancy." As if to hear a voice from heaven "to -assist her in governing herself," to see an angel, and receive -visits from the departed, implied of necessity a diseased -imagination! He sees in Wycliffe a Gospel hero almost as full of -"immortal wisdom" as Coleridge, his "Christian Plato," He couples -him with Erigena, who "questioned transubstantiation--the -master-sorcery," and Berengarius, who "opposed the same monstrous -doctrine." But he tells us in praise of these new lights, what -may well be regarded as dispraise, that "they encouraged -themselves to cast away the belief of all that Luther afterward -rejected by the simple study of the Bible, _unaided by general -knowledge, and without the guidance of sufficient -interpreters_." Such is the fatal admission of one of whom his -friend and biographer, Archdeacon Hare, writes that "the most -striking and precious quality in his writings is the deep -sympathy _with the errors and faults, and even with the sins, -of mankind_." Here, then, is another admission--an admission, -not of the disciple, but of the master, that while Sterling -combated that Catholic religion which is from first to last the -worship of Christ, he was already exhibiting the most decided -symptom of Positivism, or the worship of Humanity. -{814} -He dwells, again, with delight on the goodness and greatness of -Columbus; he assures us that he was a diligent student of the -Bible, had a childlike simplicity of faith in the truths of -religion; was, in his own belief, the chosen minister of -providence, watched over by saints and angels, pointed in his -path across the waters by the mother of the Lord, and holding in -his hand the cross as the only ensign of triumph; and yet, with -strange perversity, he comes to the conclusion that the mind of -this fearless discoverer was "in many respects dark and weak," -and that his faith, though nobler than that of the multitude -around him, was "not the purest Christianity." Sterling himself, -in short, held a purer creed, (if he could only have defined it,) -and we shall see presently to what it led. - -When his mind first came into Coleridge's plastic hands, it was -simply chaotic as regards religion. Instructed by the oracle of -Highgate, he engrafted a belief in Christianity, such as it was, -on his original "piety of heart," (as Carlyle calls it,) and his -"religion, which was as good as altogether ethnic." In this new -phase of mental hallucination, his sceptical zeal against what he -deemed superstition abated, and his radicalism, toning down, lost -some of its wildest features. In this frame he wrote and -published a novel called _Arthur Coningsby_. It was then his -only book, and it brought him little satisfaction. The babe was -still-born, and had it lived, the father, as it seems, would have -had little love for his own offspring. Coleridge's moonshine -glittered on his pages, but its outlooks into futurity were -confused and sad. It was "gilded vacuity," opulent misery. The -hero is himself--a youth plunging into life without any fixed -principle to guide him; full of democratic, utilitarian, and -heathenish theories; he suffers shipwreck--the shipwreck of the -mind; and then by the hand of some semi-Christian quack, like -dreamy Coleridge, is guided into a port which is no harbor, and a -church where there is no anchorage. Such was _Arthur -Coningsby_. But to Carlyle Sterling never mentioned the name -of the novel, nor would hear it spoken of in his presence. - -During the years in which it was planned, written, and published, -from 1829 to 1832, Sterling wooed and won Susannah Barton, a -kindly and true-hearted wife, to share his pleasures and trials; -made an intimate friend of General Torrijos, a Spanish exile; and -was silly enough to aid him and a little band of democrats -(including an Irishman named Boyd, who had more money than wits) -to purchase a ship in the Thames, arms and stores, for the -purpose of invading Spain and proclaiming a republic! Sterling -himself was to have taken part in the mad expedition; but Cupid, -as usual, was stronger than Mars; and Susannah, who was not yet -Mrs. Sterling, prevailed on her lover to lay his armor aside. Of -course, the Spanish envoy got tidings of the plot; and the ship, -with its crew and cargo, was seized in the king's name when -dropping down the river. Coleridge's moonshine, it seems, was not -strong enough yet to dispel the dark frowns of democracy. - -In 1830, the marriage contract was sealed; but alas! in this -fallen world the glad moment of our realized hopes is almost -always dashed with some strange and unexpected sorrow. Sterling's -health failed, and his lungs, menaced by consumption, asked for a -warmer climate. -{815} -The year 1831 found him in the island of St. Vincent in the midst -of tropic vegetation, tornadoes, and slaves as yet unworthy of -freedom. One hurricane, fiercer than its fellows, stripped the -roof from the house where Sterling lived, and whirled about the -cottages of the negroes as if they had been chaff. Meanwhile, in -December, 1831, Torrijos, the deluded democrat general, reaches -Spain, runs ashore at Fuengirola with fifty-five desperadoes like -himself, seizes a farm, barricades it, is surrounded, surrenders, -is haled with his comrades to Malaga, and with them all, the rich -Irishman included, is swiftly fusiladed. "I hear the sound of -that musketry," wrote Sterling; "it is as if the bullets were -tearing my own brain." No wonder, for to his brain the folly of a -wild enterprise was mainly due. - -Repentance came; religion was his study; and prayer, earnest -prayer for guidance, arose from his lips as he sat under the -dates and palms, and gazed on the mirror of summer seas. Such -prayer had been answered more fully if teachers such as -Coleridge, with his gift of words, and Edward Irving, with his -gift of tongues, had not already imbued him with a multitude of -truths which were half untruths, and untruths which were half -truths. He believed himself to be "in possession of the blessings -of Christ's redemption;" and though he scarcely as yet knew the -elements of Christianity, he began to think of teaching it. It is -always the way with pious Protestant youths. They have vocations -to preach before they are schooled; and what ought to be taken -for presumption is hailed by their friends as the most signal -proof of grace. So Sterling, wearied of West India life, formed a -vague scheme of anti-slavery philanthropy, and turned his face -toward Europe and his thoughts toward the ministry of the -Established Church. - -It was in June, 1833, and on the banks of the Rhine, that the -unripe aspirant for holy orders met his old friend and tutor, the -Rev. Julius Hare. That worthy gentleman encouraged a desire he -should rather have checked, and Sterling was not long in arriving -at a determination to become Mr. Hare's curate at Hurstmonceaux -in Sussex, and wear, at least, the surplice and stole, though he -had no hood or academical degree to adorn himself withal. So on -Trinity Sunday of the following year, he came out of Chichester -Cathedral a raw deacon, and established himself with his family -in a modest mansion in a quiet, leafy lane of Hurstmonceaux. Very -diligent was Sterling in his pastoral duties; but the fervor of -his zeal soon cooled. In September he began to have misgivings, -and in February following he had quitted the path he had -prematurely chosen. The reason assigned was loss of health; but -Carlyle guessed shrewdly, and with too much truth, that Sterling -was disappointed even to despair by the church whose garment he -had spasmodically caught by the hem. The virtue he expected did -not go forth from it, and the glimmer of truth which reached him -came through a dense cloud of confused writings. The very names -of these betokened chaos, and the twilight that struggled through -them was sufficient neither to cheer nor to guide. Many pages of -Archdeacon Hare's memoir are filled with extracts from Sterling's -letters, and accounts of his favorite studies at this period. -They form a labyrinth none can thread, where he wanders to and -fro without landmarks, bourn, light, or hope. The more he reads -the Old Testament, the less can he believe in its miracles; and -having no guide who speaks with authority, he applies for -satisfaction in vain to one charlatan after another as confused, -fanciful, and blind as himself. -{816} -Fancy a system of theology taught by Tholuck, Schiller, and -Olshausen; by Schleiermacher, Mackintosh, and Milman, by the -Koran and Kant, by Jonathan Edwards, Coleridge, and Maurice! Such -were Sterling's instructors, and it is not to be wondered at that -they created more doubts than they removed, and that under their -influence he discarded all faith in a hierarchy, a church, and a -Bible written by plenary inspiration. Christianity, he thought, -could only become true by changing with the times; and if any -existing society or church was to be the nucleus of a new system, -it could only be by the sloughing off of much that was old. How -utterly deplorable would be the condition of the human race if -left to the teaching of such philosophers and divines. After two -thousand years of Christian schooling, it would know nothing more -than ancient Greece and Rome of God and of its own destinies. All -revelation must be doubted of anew in order that anything may be -believed, and the _improved_ Christianity to be given in -these last days to the world would owe all its changes and -improvements to men as feeble and fallible as ourselves. Better, -far better, had it been for you, John Sterling, to be instructed -by a simple parish priest bred among the mountains, and -ministering in that church which is the pillar and ground of the -truth, than be handed over as you were by Coleridge, Maurice, and -Hare, to Strauss, Mill, and Carlyle--from unbelief in the bud to -unbelief in full, gaudy, flaunting blossom. - -We cannot discover anything imposing in Sterling's talents. Even -in secular learning he was a reed shaken by the wind. His essays -and poems want definite view and bold outline. It is a grand -thing to see both sides of a question, but it is a pitiful thing -to say as much for one side as for another. The want of first -principles makes all Sterling's pages dreamy and pointless. He -has no point to steer from, no harbor to steer to; he is always -toiling against wind and tide, making no way, and accounting it -triumphant success only not to be shipwrecked. Had he confined -his criticisms to matters of taste, he might have been endured, -but he _will_ be piercing the clouds without any ballast to -steady or rudder to guide his balloon. - -In February, 1835, Sterling first became personally acquainted -with that extraordinary writer, Thomas Carlyle. He met him in his -natural element, the society of brilliant free-thinkers. He was -side by side with John Stuart Mill at the India House, and then -at Sterling's father's with the Crawfords and other -_literati_, with whom unbelief was wisdom. His writings, and -particularly _Sartor Resartus_, made a great impression on -Sterling, though he saw the strange and extravagant defects of -its style, and labored hard to convince the author of his own -belief in a "personal God." But the poison did its work. The -strong inward unrest, the Titanic heaving of Teufelsdröckh's -spirit communicated itself to Sterling's, and whirled it away -still further from central peace. Carlyle could only stimulate -the intellect, and fill it with exuberant images. He had heard -without regret of Sterling's abandonment of democracy, and he saw -with greater satisfaction his defection from parochial work. He -regarded the pen as his vocation, and the greatest instrument for -good in the world. Not that Sterling broke outwardly with the -church, or declared himself a renegade. -{817} -On the contrary, he now and then performed service for a friend -at Bayswater, but it became more and more evident that his faith -in Christianity was partial and unsound. His mind was not in the -highest degree devotional, nor had he that fear of the Lord which -is the beginning of wisdom. - -His knowledge of German writers hitherto was confined to -semi-sceptics and self-appointed evangelists, Neander and the -like. Carlyle introduced him to higher souls, if literary merit -constitutes height. He brought him to the feet of Goethe, -Richter, Schiller, and Lessing, and with these he tried to -satisfy the void which an imperfect religion had been unable to -fill. Mr. Dunn, an amiable Irish clergyman, became one of their -chosen circle, and we learn from Sterling himself that _his_ -theology was compounded of the Greek fathers, mystics and ethical -philosophers, and that its main defect was an insufficient -apprehension of the reality and depth of sin. The very word sin -is considered objectionable in the school of Carlyle and Mill, -because it, is the correlative of grace. Sterling's friends -seemed fated to be the enemies of his soul. He had another named -Edgeworth, a nephew of Miss Edgeworth the novelist. He was well -read in Plato and Kant, yet even less of a believer than they. -"He entertained not creeds, but the Platonic or Kantean -_ghosts_ of creeds." So says Carlyle, of whom Sterling bears -witness, that "_his_ fundamental position is the good of -evil, and the idleness of wishing to jump off one's own shadow." - -Deplorable health again, in 1836, drove Sterling to a sunnier -clime. He was always dodging and jerking about "to escape the -scythe of Death." At Bordeaux his feeble frame revived, and he -delved in the mines of literature for fine gold. The theological -fever in his mind had abated. Such is Carlyle's account--and the -health of pure reason returned, or almost returned. He had done -with theology, rubrics, church articles, and "the enormous -ever-repeated thrashing of the straw." But did he find the grain? -If theology is chaff, where shall we look for wheat? Will the -heart of mankind accept literature as the _summum bonum_, -the guide of life, the antidote of sin, sorrow, and death? Yet -for it Carlyle and Sterling bid farewell to Christianity, and -cry: "Adieu, ye threshing-floors of rotten straw, with bleared -tallow-light for sun; to you adieu!" _The Sexton's Daughter_ -was a poem which indicated Sterling's gradual renunciation of -those fragments of Christianity which still clung to him. He even -began to think of attacking revelation, on the principle of folly -rushing in where angels fear to tread. The Christian religion, he -believed, would be really indebted to him for meddling with its -foundations, and he should be "doing good to theology," by -writing what would for ever exclude him from ministering even in -the Church of England. His letters at this period are full of -distressing jumble, which Archdeacon Hare records as Christian -with a certain unction, and Carlyle, more sagacious, claims as -antichristian with a chuckle of delight. - -A _sickly_ shadow of the parish church still hung over -Sterling's compositions, according to the latter biographer, and -he gives an amusing description of the parson-like way in which -his friend read aloud the _Sexton's Daughter_ at Blackheath, -and gave painful effect to its maudlin morality. It was "a dreary -pulpit, or even conventicle manner; that flattest moaning hoo-hoo -of predetermined pathos, with a kind of rocking canter introduced -by way of intonation, each stanza the exact fellow of the other, -and the dull swing of the rocking-horse, duly in each." - -{818} - -The invalid poet had returned from Bordeaux, but he did not -remain long at Blackheath. Again he crossed the waters in -cheerful quest of balmier air, and the manifold bliss of health. -Daily he rode among the rocky slopes and redundant foliage of -Madeira, writing to Carlyle often for recreation, and reading -Goethe's Life and Works with fear and delight. He called him "the -most splendid of anachronisms," and spoke of his life as -"thoroughly, nay, intensely pagan, in an age when it is men's -duty to be Christian. In truth," he adds, "I am afraid of him, I -enjoy and admire him so much, and feel I could so easily be -tempted to go along with him." Thus all things conduced to lead -Sterling's mind down the steep. Lyell's _Geology_ opened a -new flutter (not line) of thought, and bewildered him with the -view it presented of "the abysmal extent of time." - -From Professor Wilson, alias Christopher North, the presiding -spirit of Blackwood, Sterling received great -encouragement--perhaps more than he deserved. But ingenious -madness is all that the public requires in the magazines of some -countries. _Laudari a Laudato_ is always a rare delight. Had -Carlyle been editor, his criticisms on Sterling's Tales and Poems -would have been more severe, yea, and more just than Wilson's--he -of the _Isle of Palms_. Thus he says of _The Onyx -Ring_: "There wants maturing, wants purifying of clear from -unclear; properly there wants patience and steady depth. The -basis is wild and loose; and in the details, lucent often with -fine color, and dipt in beautiful sunshine, there are several -things misseen, untrue, which is the worst species of -mispainting." This it was that blurred and marred all poor -Sterling's productions; everything was _misseen_, and -therefore mispainted. In one particular he was to be praised and -envied--he saw things on the sunny side. In spite of sickness, he -was cheerful, and buoyancy of spirit kept him afloat on a sea -where many would have sunk. John Stuart Mill was now editing -_The London and Westminster Review_, and Sterling was -sufficiently vague and unsound to be thought a valuable -contributor. In that _Review_ he discoursed of Montaigne, -Simonides, and Carlyle, while in the _Quarterly_ of 1842, he -criticised Tennyson. Of these critiques the best is that on -Simonides, for the subject was best fitted to Sterling's taste -and powers. He was a better judge of Greek poetry and Greek -character than of writers like Montaigne, Carlyle, and Tennyson, -who have lived in Christian times, and must be judged by -Christian rules. He could hardly wander wide of his theme while -dealing with the bright wine, luscious fruit, honey, and crystal -founts of Ceos, while gathering up the costly fragments of its -gifted bard, and rendering in English the chaste and delicately -chiselled verses of him who has "not left a single line inspired -by love." - -But the case was altered when Sterling tried to appreciate -Montaigne, The task was above him. He was neither a believer nor -an unbeliever, but partly both. He could neither wholly praise -nor wholly blame Montaigne's scepticism. He had an instinctive -leaning toward the writer who adopted _Que sçay-je?_ as his -motto, and followed the natural religion of Sébonde. He honored -one whose writings were condemned at Rome, and thought, for that -very reason, they must have some good in them. -{819} -He admired an essayist who sat loose to the received opinions and -belief of his time, chose Plutarch for his favorite author, (as -Rousseau and Madame Roland did after him,) and "of all men seemed -most thoroughly to have revered and loved the saint, prophet, and -martyr of pagan wisdom, Socrates." - -Perhaps Socrates would not be in such good odor with the sceptics -of our day, if he too had not been in some sense an unbeliever. -Perhaps it is in his _protesting_ character that they -chiefly admire him, and trace in him some resemblance to the sage -of Wittemburg. They admire him, and set him up as a model, -because he was a witness against the established and popular -religion of his country. Yet it may be that Socrates had really -more faith than they have, and with all the disadvantages of -paganism, made, if we may so speak, a better deist than -nineteenth-century sceptics. Perhaps his mind was clearer, after -all, than Montaigne's, or than Sterling's, who wrote of Montaigne -that, "in the bewilderment of his misunderstanding at the -immensity and seeming contradictions of the universe, perhaps he -even hoped that _one day or other_ the puzzle of existence -would find its solution in _the accompanying puzzle of -revelation_." - -We have not time, in this place, to follow Sterling's review of -his friend Carlyle's works. Suffice it to say, what we believe to -be the fact, that he discovered Carlyle's intellectual stature to -be high because the literary world had already recognized it as -such; but he did not discover the extent of Tennyson's powers -because the literary world had not yet recognized them. This is -not very complimentary to Sterling's critiques or -penetration--but dreamy and indistinct beauty is all that he ever -reaches, and his _exposé_ of Carlyle's philosophy is as hazy -and unsatisfactory as his appreciation of Tennyson is hesitating -and imperfect. - -After founding the Sterling Club, our hero once more turned his -face toward the sweet south. In company with his friend. Dr. -Calvert, he crossed the Alps, and wandered from city to city -through the garden of Europe, till he reached, in the winter of -1838-9, the city without a rival. Perhaps Sterling was apt to let -other people reflect for him. If he had set his own thoughts -originally to work, he could hardly have failed to detect in the -metropolis of Christendom something more than he pretended to -find. A philosophic mind, even of a minor order, could not allow -itself to dwell on Rome, the Holy See, and the pontifical line, -without finding in them matter for the greatest consideration and -most searching inquiry. Whence the mighty, the enduring influence -of these on mankind and mankind's history, if there lie not at -their root, principles which escape the glance of superficial -observers? Whether divine, human, or diabolical, they must -deserve philosophical research, were it only for the magnitude of -their results. Yet Sterling is bold enough to affirm that "one -loses all tendency to idealize the metropolis and system of the -hierarchy into anything higher than a piece of showy -stage-declamation, at bottom thoroughly mean and prosaic." Again -he tells us that "The modern Rome, pope and all inclusive, are a -shabby attempt at something adequate to fill the place of the old -commonwealth." So warped was his judgment that St. Peter's itself -found little favor in his eyes. His artistic notes are as unsound -as his religious ones. Prejudice jaundiced all. "I have seen the -pope," he says, "in all his pomp at St. Peter's; and he looked to -me a mere lie in livery." -{820} -But to him perhaps St. Peter on his cross would not have appeared -truth in undress. He derived, it is to be feared, little good -from his visit to the tombs of the apostles. To him they were -tombs indeed--vaults, charnel-houses, painted sepulchres. Mrs. -Sterling's premature confinement recalled him to England, and in -the summer of 1839 he was housed at Clifton, and enjoying the -noxious friendship of an amiable deist, Mr. Frank Newman, brother -of the great convert to Catholicism of the same name. He, too, -had once professed Anglican Christianity, but he resigned his -fellowship at Oxford, and openly combated the divinity of the -Holy Ghost. - -At Clifton Sterling became familiar with Strauss; we do not mean -Strauss in person, but in his still more dangerous _Life of -Christ_. Here was, indeed, a "lie in livery," yet Sterling -pronounced it "exceedingly clever and clear-headed, with more of -insight, and less of destructive rage than he expected." It would -work, he said, deep and far, and it was well for partisans on one -side and the other to have a book of which they could say, "This -is our Creed and Code--or, rather, Anti-Creed and Anti-Code." -Alas! John Sterling, are you come to this? The "lie in livery" -whom you saw in Rome would have taught you better. He bid you -adore him whom Strauss denies, and hold fast to him as the Way, -the Truth, and the Life. - -There is little to be said of Sterling's poetry, and that little -such as his ghost might not like to hear. It never caught the -public ear, and if it had caught, could not have charmed it. He -had not the slightest taste for music, nor any tune in him. His -verses were merely rhymed, and barely rhythmical _speeches_, -not _songs_. "The thoughts were not much above the sound, -and the latter was as unmusical as a drum. Carlyle strongly -advised him to stick to prose, and declared that his "poetry" had -"a monstrous rub-a-dub, instead of a tune." Whether in prose or -verse, haze, insufficiency, and failure marked all he attempted. -At Falmouth, as at Clifton, he moved in a luminous atmosphere of -intellects gone astray. While there he published _The -Election_, a poem in eleven books, which describes in heroic -verse the contest between Frank Vane and Peter Mogg for an -English borough. There were graceful touches here and there; but -the pages wanted that originality which is the only passport to -permanent success. The _Election_ was followed by -_Strafford_ and _Coeur de Lion_, but the one subject -was _too_ dramatic, and the other one _too_ epic, for -Sterling's muse. - -In 1842, he was listening to rhapsodists reciting Ariosto on the -mole at Naples, or boating round the promontory of Sorrento. His -spoiled and purposeless existence was drawing near its close. A -painful sense of its uselessness forced itself frequently on his -mind. His life, he wrote, had ceased to be a chain, and fell into -a heap of broken links. Versatility in his father became -irresolution in him. That father, Edward Sterling, possessed an -improvising faculty without parallel, and had a fair field for -its display in the pages of the _Times_. There, -conjurer-like, he set forth "three hundred and sixty-five -opinions in the year upon every subject." There, day after day, -he hit the essential _animus_ of the great Babylon with -extraordinary precision. There he performed to admiration his -marvellous somersaults, not only without shame, but with the ease -and daring of one who is always right. -{821} -There he appeared as Whig or Tory, Peelite or Anti-Peelite, not -as the whim took him, but as it took the blatant public for whom -he wrote. There "Captain Whirlwind," as Carlyle used to call him, -let loose his winds, and, securely anonymous, looked forth from -his cave on the seething seas and thundering surges which he -rolled on the shore. The son could not but reflect in a degree -the father's face. Hence, in John Sterling we find, to his -misfortune, great and habitual uncertainty. "Christianity," he -wrote, not long before his death, "is a great comfort and -blessing to me, although I am _quite unable to believe all its -original documents_." What kind of Christianity was this which -comforted him, and whence did it derive its evidences? The same -inconsistency and vagueness appears in his remark--and it was -one of his latest--that he had gained but little good from what -he had heard or read of theology, but derived the greatest -comfort from the words, "Thy will be done." As if these words did -not involve the whole circle of theology, as the egg contains the -chicken, and the acorn the oak. - -In the beginning of 1843, Sterling broke a blood-vessel; his -mother also became seriously ill; and his father's mansion at -Knightsbridge, "built on the high table-land of sunshine and -success," was filled at once with bitterness and gloom. Very -affectionate and pious were Sterling's letters to his mother; nor -can it be said that death came to either of them unawares. They -saw the grim shadow approach, and awaited his stroke with such -fortitude as their sense of religion gave them. "Dear mother," -wrote Sterling, "there is surely something uniting us that cannot -perish, I seem so sure of a love which shall last and reunite us, -that even the remembrance, painful as that is, of all my own -follies and ill tempers cannot shake this faith. When I think of -you, and know how you feel toward me, and have felt for every -moment of almost forty years, it would be too dark to believe -that we shall never meet again." - -On Good Friday, 1843, Sterling's wife had borne him another -child, and, with her infant, was doing well. The post arrived on -the Tuesday following, and Sterling left her for a moment to read -the tidings brought of his mother. He returned soon with a forced -calm on his face, but to announce his mother's death. Alas! -another bereavement, still more desolating, was at hand. In two -hours more his beloved wife also was numbered with the dead. His -two best friends were cut down by a single blow; to him they died -in one day--almost in one hour. A mother's love is unique: there -is nothing like it in the world; a wife's love is all that -imagination can picture of earthly affection; and to Sterling -they were now both things of the past. Alone, alone he must -pursue his pilgrimage, haunted by the perpetual remembrance of -joys never to return. "My children," he cried, "require me -tenfold now. What I shall do, is all confusion and darkness." - -It is in such seasons of bereavement especially that the Catholic -realizes his church as the mourner's solace and the outcast's -home. But Sterling, unhappily, was debarred from this best and -sweetest consolation. Friends he had in abundance, but they were -almost all errant meteors like himself, and stars shining in -mist. By the death of his mother he became rich, when riches -could no longer purchase increase of joy. He took a house at -Ventnor in the Isle of Wight, and there strove to live for his -children and in a sphere of poetry. -{822} -But his lyre had few listeners; and it would be but loss of time -to criticise at length what is now forgotten. Now and then he -went up to town, and even entertained friends in his father's -desolate dwelling at Knightsbridge. It was like "dining in a ruin -in the crypt of a mausoleum." His silent sadness was manifest to -all through the bright mask he sometimes wore. "I am going on -quietly here, rather than happily," he wrote from Ventnor to Mr. -Frank Newman; "sometimes quite helpless, not from distinct -illness, but from sad thoughts and a ghastly dreaminess. The -heart is gone out of my life." That life was fast ebbing away, -and he knew it; he was drifting into the vast ocean of eternity, -and he watched without regret the receding shore. A certain piety -sustained him. "God is great," he would exclaim with Moslem -fervor, "God is great." His heart yearned especially toward -Carlyle, and the Maurices were constantly at his side. Infidelity -and semi-Christianity, in death as in life, were his presiding -genii. He clasped the Bible in his feeble hand, though he -believed it but in part. He prayed to be forgiven; he thanked the -all-wise One; but it was long since he had begun "to deem himself -the opponent, the antagonist of everything that is," and -antagonism is a frame of mind little conducive to peace and joy. -A few days before his death he wrote to Carlyle: "I tread the -common road into _the great darkness_, without any thought -of fear, and with very much of hope. Certainty, indeed, I have -none. ... Toward me it is more true than toward England, that no -man has been and done like you. Heaven bless you! If I can lend a -hand when THERE, that will not be wanting." To this same friend, -four days before his death, he addressed some stanzas which -Carlyle has not published, but says they were written as if in -starfire and immortal tears." His eyes were closed on this world -on the 18th of September, 1844. He sleeps in the burying-ground -of Bonchurch, and is embalmed in the memory of his friends. - -His natural virtues were of the highest order; his life was -correct, his temper uncomplaining, his soul transparent, and his -imagination lively. Standing, as he did, midway between belief -and unbelief, he conciliated the esteem and friendship of -believers and unbelievers, if Archdeacon Hare and Mr. Maurice are -to be reckoned among the former. The archdeacon, indeed, goes far -in the excuses he makes for Sterling, saying, "Such men we honor, -although they fall; nay, _we honor them the more because they -fall;_" a sentiment so extravagant that the most liberal -Catholic will condemn it without hesitation. - -Every life has its moral; and that of Sterling's is certainly no -exception to the rule. He is a type of educated England in the -present day--half-Christian, half-infidel. Nature and cultivation -had given him all that was requisite to make him a useful member -of society, and to cheer his dying hours with the retrospect of -an existence applied to the happiest and highest ends. But one -thing was wanting in him, a steady purpose and a clear view of -the means by which it was to be obtained. If he had been -fortunate enough to know, enjoy, and exemplify the Catholic -religion, it would have supplied him with a definite scope, and -have laid down a rule of faith and obedience by which to compass -his ends; it would have collected all his scattered forces, given -edge to his arguments, sober color to his imagination, -satisfaction to his yearnings, rest to his disquiet, comfort to -his sadness. -{823} -It would have enabled him to realize with all the certitude of -faith facts which by the light of nature he could not credit, and -truths which he could not comprehend. It would have taught him -with authority things which his teachers propounded in doubt, -asserted feebly, or distinctly denied. It would have saved him -from a wasted existence, from the shallow theology of Archdeacon -Hare and his "Guesses at Truth," from the puzzle-headed -metaphysics of Coleridge, the wild utterances of Edward Irving, -the Arian tendencies of Maurice and Dean Stanley, the -supercilious incredulity of Carlyle, the proud unbelief of -Francis Newman, and the efforts, intentional or unintentional, of -them all to bring about an unnatural and odious alliance between -infidelity and Christian faith. They have labored hard to -establish a school, and in England the results of their toil is -unhappily everywhere apparent. Unbelief is wearing a Christian -mask; and often has the language of Christ on its lips. Ministers -of religion scatter doubts in evangelical terms, and scoffers -mimic the tones and language of honest disciples. Atheists and -Deists do homage to the son of Mary, and speak respectfully of -saints, doctors, and popes. Protestant divines apologize for -sincere unbelievers, and quote with approval the writings of the -apostles of doubt. Conciliation and compromise are loudly called -for on both sides, and hatred of all law and dogma is extolled as -charitable and wise. The proposal of marriage between -Christianity and Infidelity is openly published; and the Catholic -Church alone solemnly and persistently forbids the banns. - --------------- - - Saint Columba. - - Columba, gentlest of all names! Bequest - Of a strong Celtic mother to a child - Who, unto life's meridian, kept the wild, - Impassioned grandeur of his race; his guest - The patriot bard; while innocence oppressed - Flew, with the instinct of souls undefiled, - To his great heart, who, to the guileless mild. - Called heaven's swift curse upon the lifted crest - Of lawless power. And still the generous mind - Pores, kindling, o'er heroic legends quaint, - In which grave history dips her brush to paint - That nature fierce and tender; but combined - With grace celestial, till the man we find - Crowned with th' eternal glories of the saint. - ----------- - -{824} - - Gheel. - - A Colony Of The Insane, - Living In Families And At Liberty. - - - -The Belgian Kempen Land is a vast stretch of sandy plains in the -provinces of Anvers, Brabant, and Limburg. Its chief parish, -Gheel, has a population of some 12,000, about one fifteenth of -which are lunatics in family treatment, and many of them occupied -in the usual routine of domestic, field, and garden work. This -custom has prevailed there for a thousand years. In the seventh -century, a chapel was built and dedicated to Saint Martin, the -apostle of the Gauls. Some cells of pious hermits surrounded it -and formed the principal nucleus of Gheel. Here the young -daughter of a pagan king of Ireland sought a refuge from his -incestuous love, accompanied by Gerrebert, the priest who had -converted herself and her mother to Christianity. Her father, -discovering her traces, pursued her, caused Gerrebert to be put -to death, and his servants refusing to execute his sanguinary -orders against his daughter, he cut off her head with his own -hands, thus avenging, by the most horrible crime, the defeat of -his guilty passion. Certain lunatics who witnessed this terrible -martyrdom, and others whom piety led to the grave of the victims, -as the legend runs, were cured. Gratitude and faith attributed -the merit of these cures to the holy young virgin, henceforth -honored as the patroness of the insane. Attracted by hopes of a -miracle, other families brought their afflicted to the foot of -the memorial cross and double bier. The visitors, on their -departure, confided their patients to the charity of the -residents. This custom became an institution. Little by little, a -village was formed here, animated by work as well as prayer, and -which became, at last, an important burgh. A large and beautiful -church, built in honor of Saint Dymphna, replaced Saint Martin's -chapel, early in the twelfth century, and was consecrated on its -completion in 1340, by the Bishop of Cambrai. The popular -devotion there was approved by a brief of Pope Eugene IV., in -1400. A vicariate composed of nine priests and a director was -instituted in 1538, and in 1562 changed into a chapter consisting -of nine canons and a deacon. - -From these times up to our own day, a current of pilgrimage has -been sustained by the malady and by faith. - -This fountain of prayer in the desert, these pious cares -solicited and granted, have become a source of industry and -liberty for the insane, and of prosperity for the district. This -is readily explained. The barren soil of the Kempen renders it -difficult to live there, hospitality was more onerous there than -elsewhere, and economy as well as religious charity counselled -the host to have but one board with his guest. To keep him apart -would have been losing the time of those occupied in taking care -of him. Left at liberty, he would naturally accompany them to the -fields, and there, before the soil which solicited arms, another -step of progress was accomplished. So, without any constraint, by -the attractions of social labor and of gentle influences, many of -the insane became useful members of the family. -{825} -The first inspirations of religion, reenforced by considerations -of economy, came to be organized in a secular practice of humble -virtues by the habit of affectionate cares. Thus, in the rude -middle ages, the Gheel folk, without the light of science, but in -that of a religious faith made fruitful by the heart and -sustained by their interest, practised a treatment of insanity -based on the liberty of movement, on rural and domestic industry, -and on the sympathy of an adoptive family, far from all that -might recall a sinister past. - -The arbitrary discipline founded on geometrical and military -ideas in modern times has not spared Gheel; yet, whatever abuses -ten centuries had introduced and habit protected there, as well -as its good services, were ascertained by a most thorough -inquest. The new regulations for Gheel in 1851-'52-'57 and '58 -secure, as far as written laws can go, the well-being of the -insane. - -The insane are admitted at Gheel without distinction as to -nation, religion, age, sex, or fortune. Every one is welcomed -with sincere sympathy, and receives the same hygienic and medical -care, though nothing prevents the rich from enjoying their -fortune, or whatever, in the way of luxuries, their relatives may -provide for them. One English gentleman, for instance, consumes -in festive entertainments the income of a large estate. Of late -years, the Belgian administration has excluded from Gheel certain -dangerous forms of lunacy, such as homicidal and incendiary -monomanias, and those who are constantly bent upon escaping from -any place to which they may have been taken, or whose affections -are of such a nature as to disturb public decency. It does not -appear, however, that this recent transfer of 250 patients had -been called for by any disasters. It was rather a concession to -administrative routine, and Mr. Parigot, the inspector at that -time, regrets that the colony should thus have lost a class of -patients the control of whom best attested its moral power. Both -the patients and their guardians felt aggrieved by this arbitrary -measure. - -No distinctive dress is worn by the insane; their garments are -such as are worn by the country folk in general, so that nothing -calls public attention to them, nor reminds them of their -peculiar situation. - -Liberty under all its forms is the good genius which has -inspired, protects, and preserves this colony: especially the -liberty to come and go, to sleep or get up, to work or to rest, -to read or write or talk at pleasure, to receive one's friends or -correspond with them without any restriction. The supreme science -of government consists in not contradicting the insane, but -humoring their innocent fantasies, or imposing nothing by force, -but obtaining all by persuasion. Unless some evident and -particular inconvenience prevents it, they enter public places, -smoke a pipe at the _café_, play a hand of cards, read the -papers, or drink a glass of beer with the neighbors. The -tavern-keepers are not allowed to sell wine or distilled liquors. - -If liberty, equality, and fraternity are not _political_ -terms there, they are the realities of common life. The lunatic -is a man, and is treated as such by the same right as all his -brothers in God. - -You would never hear at Gheel such a complaint as this, by a poor -lunatic confined in an asylum, where, indeed, he was the subject -of intelligent and devoted cares: - -{826} - -"They call us _patients_, to control and to oppress us, but -they do not allow us the indulgence of sick folk! Often after a -restless night, I would like to sleep in the morning. But no: the -hour has come, the bell rings, we must rise whether we will or -not. I am not, then, a patient any longer!" - -At Gheel, no bell strikes the limit between sleep and waking. -Pleasure, the example of activity, and appetite, are stimuli -sufficient to counteract sluggishness. Sleep is never disturbed, -unless by order of the physician on some particular occasion. -Often, says Dr. Parigot, I have asked on entering, "Where is -Mr.----?" The answer would be, "Doctor, our _heerke_ is -still abed; his breakfast is waiting him there by the fire;" and -this at ten or eleven o'clock. - -It may be asked whether the frequency of accidents and of escapes -does not counterpoise the advantages of so much liberty. - -No! accidents are neither common nor serious. Quarrels and spats -are easily appeased; they occur very seldom, which is due, in -part, to the tendency of the insane to keep apart rather than to -associate with each other. This tendency is not contravened at -Gheel, as at asylums, where the annoyance of forced association -exasperates susceptible characters and irritable nervous systems. - -"I am really mad, then, for them to condemn me to live with these -people!" cried a monomaniac in despair. Enter almost any hall of -an asylum where the insane assemble to warm themselves: you will -be heart-struck by the sinister expression of this feeling in -persons most of whom are as sensible as yourself to manias which -are not their own, and whose punishment consists in finding -themselves everywhere and always with the insane. These men and -women are overwhelmed with _ennui_. The room in which they -pass the night does not belong to them, and this warmed gallery, -that yard, that garden, are for them but walled cages. You may -read upon their faces the aggravation thus occasioned, while the -chances of their cure diminish daily. - -Now, turn to the lunatic at Gheel, who enjoys the free air, and -feels a property in his chamber, in his books, his tools, his -plants, his stones and various collections. He adorns his -domicile after his own fashion; his inscriptions or designs -appear upon the walls. He is busy in acting his dream; he roams -in the woods and fields; he fishes in the streams, or spreads -snares for birds, or labors at his will. Another writes all day -in the sand of the streets the story of his thoughts-- -hieroglyphics to which he alone has the key. A third relieves his -inward agitation by external movement; all day innocently busy, -he returns tranquillized to his lodgings at night The rest are at -work with their hosts, or at sport with the children, their -friends and peers. - -That melancholy which engenders the disgust of life, may often be -calmed by a change so complete in one's whole existence, while -the predisposition to it is not aggravated by the despair of -incarceration. Dispersion in families distinct and often -isolated, counteracts the danger of contagious imitation. - -In the course of half a century, only two acts of personal -violence are on record. - -The enjoyment of their personal liberty sufficiently explains why -so few try to escape from Gheel. Most of the patients have found -there a deliverance from previous constraint; yet, to provide -against all casualties, the administration, as soon as advised of -the disappearance of a patient from his guardian's premises, sets -in movement an effective police corps. -{827} -Before this was instituted, the spontaneous intervention of the -neighbors sufficed; for it was understood, for many leagues -round, that any individual whose demeanor awakened suspicions of -his sanity, should be conducted to Gheel as to his legal -residence. The restorer of a runaway was also entitled to mileage -for his trouble. When it is known that a certain lunatic is beset -with the idea of escaping, which may take possession of the -insane like any other, it is customary, after obtaining a permit -therefor from the physician in charge, to fasten two rings or -bracelets, covered with sheep-skin, upon the legs, with a covered -chain, about a foot in length, connecting them. By this means the -lunatic, without being confined, has his movements obstructed, -while attention is directed to him. How preferable this is to the -mortal _ennui_, to the sullen despair of confinement in an -asylum! What matters it to the patient that his limbs are free, -if before him is the barrier of bolts and bars--of massive doors, -and impassable walls! - -The _morale_ of the insane cannot be otherwise than -favorably affected by association with persons who protect him -with solicitude, while they appeal to his good sense and good -will, admitting him on a footing of equality to their hearths, -their tables, and their work: such a welcome banishes from his -mind the idea of humiliation and oppression, which everywhere -else is connected with that of sequestration. Instead of being a -pariah shaken off by society, he now belongs to humanity; his -dignity as a man is safe, for it is respected in its chief -privilege--liberty. - -In the name of this liberty, he is trusted--he is constituted, in -a measure, the arbiter of his own lot. If he do[es] not abuse it, -supervision of him is relaxed. If his freedom be sometimes -limited, the least remaining gleam of reason suffices to render -him conscious that the restrictions imposed are not hostile in -their spirit, but are simply precautions which he may disarm by a -rational conduct. - -Such sentiments sustain or awaken within him the life of the -soul; they influence his manners and bearing. He does not lose -the habit of society, and if he one day return home, it may be -without shame or embarrassment; his absence will have been a -journey, and not a humiliating sequestration. - -Translated from political into psychologic language, liberty is -spontaneity; and if we analyze it more profoundly, we find this -term applicable to those actions only which employ the limbs, the -senses, and the intellectual faculties as ministers of our inmost -affections of will. For all spontaneous action, the head, the -hands, and the heart are in union--the conflict between the -spirit and the flesh is reconciled. - -This supreme harmony implies the unison of man with himself, with -his fellow-creatures, and with his spirit-fountain life. Express -it as you will, its conception is the basis of the Christian -therapeutics of insanity. All must be obtained of the lunatic by -gentleness, and not by intimidation or violence; nothing ought to -oppress the individuality of the patient. The mission of the -guardians is to render inoffensive, amiable, and useful, a person -imperfectly conscious of his acts. It is by one of the noblest -powers of the spirit that they say to him virtually, Be free, and -understand the sympathies that animate us. Alexander of Macedon -accepted the beverage of his physician Philip before mentioning -that Philip had been accused of intending to poison him. -{828} -Now the insane are, in the immense majority of cases, no more -guilty of ill intentions than the Acarnanian doctor, and our -Alexanders of Belgium are poor peasants. - -These Gheelois have faith in their providential mission, faith in -the ancient miracles which have predestined their country to the -cure of insanity, faith in their own power. Esquirol one day -expressed to a peasant of this place his apprehensions about -paroxysms of mania. The countryman laughed at his fears, and -said: "You do not understand these folks; I am not strong, and -yet the most furious of them is nothing for me." This is the way -they all talk. The sentiment of an unlimited and privileged power -is insinuated from childhood into the soul of the Gheelois by -example and tradition. This power grows with his muscular force -and experience; it imposes upon the insane, who feels himself -feeble and disarmed before a master, and usually submits without -resistance. Any desired help can be had, moreover, at a moment's -warning, from the neighbors. The exigencies of family life with -the insane invite the inhabitants of Gheel to respect their -inoffensive fantasies, and to study in all its aspects the -difficult art of directing their erring wills, of redressing -their false ideas when they threaten mischief, of taking -advantage of a lingering sentiment of sociality or a last gleam -of reason, to secure themselves against violence and surprises. -On the other hand, as they can have recourse to material -constraint only in accidental cases, as they can reckon but -exceptionally on the intelligent obedience of patients, it is -especially by the evolution of sympathies, those quick rays of -the soul which usually survive the intellect, and are often -extinguished only with life, that the Gheelois have understood -the tactics of social government. That women should excel in this -diplomacy is not surprising. On them devolves the most delicate -and important part of a system based on managing by gentleness -the most whimsical characters. Simple, ignorant, laborious, -without the vanities of fashionable life, but kind by nature, -religious by education, and guided by her heart, the woman of -Gheel accomplishes marvels of devotion and sagacity. By her -cares, which no disgust repels, she is the visible Providence of -the poor madman. By her ingenious expedients, she averts stormy -crises, and never shows herself afraid. Without title or costume, -she is a true sister of charity. To maintain her power over her -fantastic subjects, she studies their intimate thoughts, observes -their least gestures, divines their secret projects, and learns -to read souls the most dissembling. To subdue the most savage, -the young girl does not shrink from the manoeuvres of an innocent -coquetry. At other times, it is the imperious magnetism of the -look, of the attitude, of the voice, that lays its spell upon the -spirit and dissipates fury. It is not rare to see maniacs of -herculean frame obeying little women bowed and emaciated by age, -and whose only arms are a few words spoken with authority. The -husbands and fathers are not backward in these arts of -management. Besides their innate turn for it, the peace of their -household and their interests lead them to it. All idleness is a -loss, and the boarder losing his time and making others lose -theirs, if he remained a non-value, would soon become a burden. -Compulsion to labor is out of the question. It is necessary to -humor the lunatic, to entice him by rendering the work -attractive. Is he restive? -{829} -They are patient. Is he awkward? They make fun of his blunders -without humiliating him; he will do better next time. As soon as -he succeeds a little, he is flattered and encouraged; he soon -comes to like the job. Gradually he is tamed and trained. Behold -him, then, an active and a useful member of the family, proud of -himself, a friend and child of the house, rising at the same hour -as his companions and sharing their toils. Fallen as he may be -from man's estate, does he not still afford greater capacities of -sociability than those of wild beasts? To succeed in the -education of the insane, the inhabitants of Gheel have displayed -a persevering and intelligent energy, the power of which is -enhanced by the natural sympathy of man for man. Much charity in -the heart, gentleness upon the lips, friendly actions, -_reasoning_ even, at an opportune moment, exert a sovereign -empire over characters whose susceptibility is exalted by -disease. Patience is the first of virtues necessary in this -community, and it has always risen to the height of the -aberrations it has had to meet. No eccentricity provokes either -surprise or anger. For twenty years Daniel Peter has been -boarding with a Gheelois. This maniac covers the walls of his -chamber with the most original caricatures; never does he mingle -with the members of the family; he likes only one of the -children, Joseph; but he loves him to the point of abdicating his -own personality. He nicknames all around him, persons and beasts, -even the matron, whom he calls the "tambour major." When she asks -him through the door whether he wishes to eat, he replies: Joseph -would like it; or else, Joseph will have none. The only way of -getting anything from him is to compare him with some tall -object, calling him a tree, a mast, a tower, etc. On Sunday only -he will eat no meat, and takes flight at sight of a woman or of a -horse. Notwithstanding all these whims, he is beloved by all the -family, and remains inoffensive, because he is well treated. He -returns to his lodgings regularly every evening after having -wandered in the woods and over the heath. From this exchange of -kind offices, which is the general tone, the most solid -attachments spring. "You must have seen the afflicted family of -_der Phleger_ around the sick-bed of _die Phlegling_, -you must have witnessed the touching scenes when the latter goes -forth cured from the establishment, in order to get a clear idea -of the means which constitute the basis of the treatment and the -proper employment of which assure the success of the colony. -These testimonies of gratitude and of mutual affection, these -tears of happiness and of regret, these promises to see each -other again, are the sincerest homage that can be rendered to the -solicitude of the guardians." [Footnote 229] - - [Footnote 229: _Bulckeus_. Report of 1856, pp. 34, 33.] - [Transcriber's note: This line is blurred.] - -Nothing better proves how deeply these feelings have penetrated, -not merely into individual souls, but into the blood and race, -than the conduct of the children of Gheel toward the insane. -Elsewhere generally, and even at Horenthals, in the neighborhood, -we have seen the unfortunate persecuted and derided. Childhood, -especially, is without pity for them. Nothing like this at Gheel. -There the _Zott_ is, even for children, an amusing -companion, without wickedness, often a comrade of their games, -sometimes a protector. It seems that between beings who have not -yet quite attained their reason, and those who have lost it, some -alliance is formed. Dr. Parigot relates his first visit as -inspector to a farm near Gheel. -{830} -"It was a cold, snowy spell in the winter. The family were -pressing round the hearth beneath the vast chimney-place, and the -best seat was occupied by a lunatic. The unexpected appearance of -a stranger on the threshold of this poor house, troubled the -quiet inhabitants a little. The frightened children took refuge, -with little cries, between the legs of the maniac. This poor -man's affection for the children was vividly depicted in his -countenance, as he protected them with a gesture. This affection -was, perhaps, the only tie that attached him to society, but this -tie of love protected himself, by deserving the regard of his -hosts." We have been gently touched by seeing in the streets of -Gheel an old man bearing two children in his arms, while two -others followed his steps. The intellectual focus was extinct, or -projected but a feeble and vacillating light, but the affectional -focus still revealed by its glow the moral grandeur of man even -in his saddest miseries. - -A woman of Gheel was in company with a maniac, when suddenly he -was seized with a paroxysm of excitement. The danger was great, -her presence of mind was still greater. She took the young child -that she was bearing in her arms, and whom the madman loved, -placed it in his arms, and availed herself of this diversion to -slip out by the door; then, concealed behind the window, she -followed with eye and heart the movements of the lunatic. -Marvellous calculation! the child had at once and completely -calmed the madman, who, having caressed him and set him upon the -floor, was now playing with him. A few minutes afterward, the -mother could reenter, the crisis was passed. No one at Gheel -blamed this conduct in the mother, who had estimated justly the -fascination of infancy. - -When the equality of age invites to friendship, this becomes very -lively between the children of the house and the insane. There is -one family which boards a young lunatic, who is also deaf and -dumb. She has become a cherished sister for the daughters of her -host. When they are at work together, enter and announce that you -come to take the afflicted child back to the hospital. Instantly -a cry of terror, followed by the precipitate flight of these -girls, carrying their friend along with them, will teach you how -lively is the alarm of their tenderness. - -A woman of beautiful and noble countenance, and superior -education, had been found insane at Brussels, without any -information concerning her. From her own imperfect answers, it -seems she was a native of Mauritius, where her father had been a -man of note in the French revolution. Entrusted to a family of -farmers at Gheel, they welcomed her with a delicate deference for -her probable antecedents. During twenty years, they served a -little table apart for her, with more elegance than their own; -yet they received on her account only the pittance allowed for -paupers. One day when Mr. Parigot mentioned this, they answered -him, "It is enough, doctor; we love our little lady, and we wish -to keep her here. No one could pay us for what we are doing; but -we have no children, and this is our society." - -A father on his death-bed had recommended to his daughter a poor -lunatic, who had witnessed her birth, and who had amused her when -little. When she married, she brought him in dower to her husband -by the terms of the contract. Heaven blessed her generosity. The -lunatic lived to be nearly a hundred years old. During this -period, their house had to be rebuilt; but the spouses made a -sacrifice of its symmetry and convenience, so as to leave -untouched the cell of this old man which had become endeared to -him by a long abode. - -{831} - -The relatives of patients are often too poor to offer presents. -One day Dr. Parigot was visiting a young epileptic. As he had -always found him well cared for, and knew that his friends came -to see him every year, he ventured to ask the mistress of the -house what she received on his account. She smiled and replied: -"Our Joseph's relations are poor like me, and make their journey -afoot. I keep them here a week, and they return afoot, but I give -them a rye loaf and bacon to eat on the road. These are our -presents." The exercise of these pious and delicate virtues has -formed in the heart of the Gheel folk a sentiment of corporate -honor and of mutual responsibility, which withstands individual -perversions as well as the conflicts of social life. The whole -community is interested in the fate of these unfortunates. Every -one there might affirm concerning the insane, the _humani nihil -a me alienum puto_. - -The household that has no lunatic seems to lack something, and -looks out for a favorable occasion to supply this want. The -reciprocal supervision of the inhabitants prescribes moderation -and justice to all. If woman presides in the household, and man -out of doors, the eye of the community, watching over both, -protects the weak in the course of daily life, as in the -struggles which a paroxysm sometimes necessitates. Denounced by -the cries of the victim, any arbitrary violence would be promptly -reported to the physicians and to the administration. If official -defenders were absent, the public voice would suffice, and it -could not be silenced. Any suspicion of improper conduct is -readily cleared up by the interchange of visits in the -neighborhood, and thus a protection is established permanent, -universal, invisible, sanctioned by custom and superior to all -administrative patronage or written rule. - -A population thus reared in the practice of sincere devotion to a -special humanitary office, by immemorial tradition, by interest, -by personal and communal honor, and by religious faith, may well -bear comparison with the most zealous servants of any public or -private asylum. The brothers or sisters of charity, who are but -casually guardians of a certain infirmity the more difficult of -treatment, because it attacks the soul as well as the body, can -hardly possess those hereditary faculties and the thousand -expedients which from infancy upward germ in the child and -develop in a family and locality, devoted to the treatment of -insanity. How much more unequal is the comparison with simple -mercenaries! Heaven forbid we should ignore the abnegation of -self, so often evinced in the most obscure services, or the -unprovided aptitudes which neither danger nor disgust discourage. -Yet it cannot be denied that the insane generally persist in -regarding all overseers as jailers and complacent tools of the -injustice of families or of society. At Gheel, on the contrary, -the most susceptible patients can see around them only hosts who -take in boarders, and among whom they often find friends and -companions. Before all disinterested judgment, what is elsewhere -the competition of business here assumes the character of a -social and medical mission, while a closer analysis discerns, in -this creation of a lively faith sustained at once by charity and -interest, a fortunate equilibrium of the springs of human action. -The twofold motive of honor and interest acts in effect like a -spring regulated by a counterpoise. - -{832} - -Is the guardian distinguished for his sagacity and fidelity in -the discharge of his assumed cares? He will be kept upon the list -and recommended to families by the administration. He will have -the opportunity of selection, and may exercise it so as either to -gratify his sympathies or to advance his interests. - -In the sphere of a true rural life, are freely developed those -affinities which re-ally man with the beast and bird, and this -first degree in the scale of affections is far from being without -influence on the state of certain patients. Some are interested -in the cattle which they tend, in the horses, the dogs, or the -birds, of which they make companions. One lunatic at Gheel is -constantly thinking of birds; no one is more ingenious than he in -catching them. Once caged, he never leaves them, he takes them -from his cell into the family apartment, or, while they disport -in the sunshine, their vigilant master mounts guard to protect -them from their enemy the cat. Is it doubtful that these -child-like enjoyments dissipate many sorrows, or that they aid to -re-establish the harmony of the soul with the body? Deprive this -man of the society of his birds, indubitably his condition will -be aggravated. Whether as predisposing or exciting causes, -wounded pride and vanity and passional isolation amid the -pressure of crowds underlie many forms of insanity. In assembling -under his protection the group of inferior animals, every man may -innocently satisfy sentiments which are ruffled and disappointed -among his own species. Spiritual space is enlarged about him, and -the heart is amused by the play of passions similar to his own in -organisms so different as to render impossible the collisions of -rivalry. - -To this first appeasement of internal agitation by all the voices -of nature, labor comes to add its powerful revulsion. Its -benefits are now so universally known and proclaimed that, -wherever space permits, it is becoming one of the bases of -treatment. At Bicêtre, the neighboring farm of Saint Anne is in -great part cultivated by a squad of lunatics chosen among those -who most readily accept the discipline of command and corporeal -exercise. Work is at Gheel the easy law of every day and every -dwelling, allowing for the antipathy which certain lunatics -evince toward every occupation, and for incapacity by certain -kinds of illness. But industry at Gheel has this precious -distinction, that there the insane works among persons of sane -mind, whose speech and actions bring him back to reason, whereas -elsewhere he is surrounded with his companions in misfortune, -whom he finds the same in the fields as at the asylum. Instead of -being sequestrated in fantastic and unnatural society, he -continues to live in the real bosom of a social family whose -children are reared by his side, he hears rational conversations -and witnesses amusing scenes. Does he desire to take part in -these? He is obliged to the act of intelligent reflection. -Occasions naturally supervene when the lunatic, butting against -inflexible reality, is led to recognize the bewilderment of his -ideas. - -The family compassionates his real or imaginary troubles, and the -latter are not the least afflictive. The lunatic is very sensible -of such kindness; for among many of them, the memories of -childhood, of friendship, or of neighborhood, are preserved quite -vivacious amid the ruins of the intellect. The death of a parent -or friend will often draw warm tears. -{833} -The unfortunate is consoled by showing interest in him. When this -sympathetic indulgence can no longer be asked of the natural -family, where hope for it elsewhere than in the adoptive family? -Less discomposed by its tenderness, the latter more easily -obtains the obedience of the lunatic, who even through his -darkened reason, fails not to perceive that he has neither the -right nor the means of imposing his caprices on strangers. - -One fact constantly occurs at Gheel upon the arrival of raving -maniacs. After a few days passed in their guardian's house they -can scarcely be recognized. Coming with the strait-jacket or in -bonds, they are appeased as soon, almost, as these are taken off. -Must this change be attributed to the new sphere that environs -them, to the regard that is extended to them, or to the new -current of impressions and ideas that traverses their own folly? -These influences, severally useful, are strengthened by their -association. Through them, what remains sound in the mind is -aided by good tendencies; what there is morbid, is restrained. At -Gheel is perpetually renewed the phenomenon which occasioned so -much surprise at Bicêtre, at Charenton, and in all the hospitals -of Europe, when intrepid humanity broke their chains and whips, -considered, until then, the only possible instruments for -controlling the insane. It now remains for science to confess -that every closed establishment is in itself a chain, the last -but the heaviest that remains to be suppressed. - -The lunatic taken to an asylum is, from the first, assailed with -painful impressions, bunches of large keys, massive doors, bolts, -bars, cells, yards, walls, guardians, uniforms, regulations, -bells, all the appearances and all the realities of a prison. At -Gheel, welcomed with alacrity by the family to which his abode -secures a pension, he feels himself at his ease. This first -welcome exerts over the insane soul the most auspicious -influence; for one who comes from a hospital, it is a true -emancipation. By daily repetition, this contentment soon becomes -an energetic preference. When of late years certain councils of -the Belgium hospitals decided on withdrawing their insane from -Gheel, to transfer them to a rival establishment for the sake of -some trivial economy, it occasioned the most touching scenes. -Guardians and lunatics embraced each other weeping, and several -of the latter hid themselves to escape from this transfer. Force -had to be employed with others. Besides breaking in upon their -affections and their habits, they knew they were passing from -liberty to confinement! When questioned on this subject, their -feelings clearly appear. A foreign physician visiting Gheel with -me, one day asked a lunatic who had spent some time in one of the -lock-up establishments, which system he preferred. "You may -answer that for yourself," he replied reservedly; but a long and -silent look beaming with joy was the expressive interpretation of -these words. This attachment to Gheel and to the guardian's -family often survives the cure. Guardians have often been known -to keep gratuitously, wards restored to their right minds, but -who had lost their families or their relations with the world. -Not seldom is a friendly correspondence kept up all their lives, -while living far apart. Annual pilgrimages from Brussels to Gheel -renew ties formed during the malady. - -{834} - -There seems to be no possible doubt that life for the insane is -more benign at Gheel than in the immense majority of asylums. -Patients sent there in the initial period of insanity, frequently -experience a change for the better, and many recover their -reason. Some cures have been effected at Gheel, after two or -three years of abortive treatment elsewhere. Maniacs, much -agitated, in whom the spring of life preserves its energy, are -cured sooner than the quiet ones, who often become imbecile. -Monomaniacs, especially religious monomaniacs, are seldom cured. -They are more fortunate with intermittent forms of insanity, and -such are the patients preferred by the Gheelois, as most helpful -in their work. Cures are more frequent on the farms, where the -insane labor, than in the village, where they are less occupied. -It seems to be ascertained that the number of cures has -diminished with the falling off in devotion, and this result is -no surprise to science, which, without intervening in the -religious question, accounts faith among the most powerful -therapeutic agents. Among the patients classed as curable, the -proportion of cures has averaged between fifty and sixty-five per -cent. Unfortunately, about three fifths of the patients sent to -Gheel are desperate cases, on whom all the resources of art have -been vainly exhausted elsewhere; for Gheel makes no flourish of -trumpets, and only of late years has possessed even an infirmary, -or a corps of physicians. Its simple hygiene of liberty, and the -family life of poor peasants, is not calculated to exert the -_prestige_ of those sadly magnificent palaces in which the -insane are confined by thousands, and where pretentious science -so unwisely snubs nature. Certain medical administrators have -even pretended that Gheel was only fit for the incurable. -Formerly, they came in search of miracles; now, they seek a last -abode here. It should be remarked, moreover, that hospitals, -where the keeping of the insane is a burden, are inclined to -dismiss them as cured on the earliest signs of real improvement; -while at Gheel, where their keeping is a source of profit, and -where the patient is often more comfortable than at home, nothing -hastens his departure, which is authorized only after mature -examination by the physician of the section and the general -inspector. The chances are greater here than elsewhere, that the -patient's dismissal corresponds to a solid cure. - -In default of complete restoration, the conditions of life at -Gheel determine in the insane a general amelioration which -constitutes the gentlest manner of being compatible with mental -derangement. The morbid state, reduced to its simplest -expression, excludes neither physical comfort nor a certain order -of moral enjoyments, some of which are delicate even to -refinement. The subversive tendencies are attenuated, if not -quite annulled. A young lady, confined for a year in a large -asylum, used to break up there everything that she could lay her -hands upon, and the severest restraints had to be forced on her. -At Gheel, free among the peasants, she breaks up only little bits -of wood. Unable to overcome entirely the fatal impulse that -besets her, still she understands that she is in a family which -deserves consideration, since, far from oppressing her, they -allow her to obey her instinctive needs of active movement. The -young lunatic does her hosts as little harm as she can, and this -trait admirably exhibits the influence of Gheel, which mitigates -when it cannot cure, and obtains, better than any other system, -the state of passive "innocence." - -{835} - -This innocence rises occasionally to a sympathetic and rational -benevolence. Among the old lunatics there are, generally, -compatriots or acquaintances of the new-comers. The former become -the interpreters of their companions in misfortune; they initiate -them into the kind of life led at Gheel; they advise them how to -manage, point out to them what the place presents of interest, -and thus assist in naturalizing them. If liberty is the first -principle of the colonial system, labor is the second. Although -every lunatic is free to abstain from it, and no physical -discipline or coercive measure is brought to bear on him, a few -sympathetic words and example frequently suffice to wean the -insane from idleness. From half to two thirds of the whole number -are usefully occupied. The household cares are shared by women, -by the aged and the infirm, along with the children and servants -of the family. Most of the artisans, such as tailors, -shoe-makers, cabinet-makers, blacksmiths, bakers, curriers, etc., -find a place in the local industry. Some work on their own -account, and are patronized in proportion to their skill. There -used to be at Gheel an excellent cabinet-maker, very intelligent, -and who earned a good deal of money in the exercise of his trade. -A Dutchman, he had served in the French army, was made prisoner -in Russia, then incorporated among the Cossacks of the Don. In -1815, being in Belgium, he deserted, or rather resumed his -liberty and nationality, and married at Brussels, where he fell -into hallucinations which occasioned his transportation to Gheel. -He lived twenty-five years there, practising his art with -success, and talked very rationally about matters in general, -only he affirmed that the devil every night entered his body by -the heels, and lodged somewhere in it, which led him to conclude -all his discourses by asking for a probe to hunt the evil spirit. -Care is taken to place every lunatic in a family so situated in -village or country, as to employ his or her industrial capacities -to the best advantage. The furious maniacs are most in request by -the peasants, a preference easily explained. Fury attests the -energy of the organism; the internal force, physical or moral, is -disordered but abundant. In their periods of calm, madmen of this -class are vigorous laborers; whereas no profit can be made of an -idiot or a paralytic. On a sudden and violent paroxysm of acute -mania, the farmer's family, aided by the passengers and -neighbors, soon obtain control of it. Quieted again, the lunatic -resumes his work, and this work, which profits the farmer, -ameliorates by an energetic and continuous diversion the state of -the patient, rendering his paroxysms less frequent. - -Although the importance of working is now very generally -understood, few asylums are provided with adequate grounds, -workshops, and implements for employing their patients to -advantage; hence this progress is still a rare exception, and -even when it exists, its benefit is much diminished by the -vexatious constraint of its discipline resembling penitentiary -labor. In most of the rich establishments life passes in -oppressive idleness, leaving the patient all day long to his -dreams, without procuring him that muscular fatigue so propitious -to sleep at night. It is enough to drive a sane man mad. - -As for mental occupation with books, games, spectacles, and -social assemblies, they tend to excite instead of reducing the -circulation of the brain, and are often opposed to the desired -equilibrium of the organism. -{836} -In the Russian hospitals, the military organization of labor -becomes but a tribute of passive obedience to absolute authority, -and ceases to effect energetic revulsion from the bewilderment of -the mind. So needlework affords to women a kind of instinctive or -mechanical activity of the fingers, which leaves the imagination -vagabond. Such labors, prolonged for many hours, are so much the -more objectionable from their sedentary nature, which rather -favors than averts glandular obstructions and correlative -disturbance in the circulatory and nervous systems. - -The mode of life of the small farmer, considered as a whole, -combines natural interests with varied occupations and movements -requiring skill and strength in moderate degree, observation and -attention. Above all, man feels himself here a direct coagent -with the elemental forces, a shareholder in the commonwealth of -the universe, alternately obeying and commanding, utilizing and -enjoying the play of solar and planetary forces. It is true that -all have not equally the intellectual consciousness of their -participation in this great drama, nor the intimate satisfaction -and dignity that accrue from it; yet none can be alien to its -penetrating virtues, they sustain the meanest hind and the most -oppressed slave; much more, the free, the voluntary, and amateur -collaborator. The aspects of nature wear the color of the spirit; -they are sanative in proportion as man becomes the mirror, the -guide, and the instrument of her powers. In the prisoner, at best -their suggestions cherish painful aspirations. For the free -laborer alone are they pregnant with infinite sweetness. - -The arts, and especially music, contribute to the social life of -Gheel, and repeat for many a tormented spirit the experience of -David with Saul. [Footnote 230] - - [Footnote 230: I Kings xvi. 23.] - -A lunatic, surnamed Colbert the Great, a skilful violinist, -founded the harmony or choral society, and his name is still -honored in the memory of all the Gheelois. His portrait adorns -the hall where the society holds its meetings, and this homage -attests the cordial fraternity, devoid of prejudices and of false -shame, which characterizes the Gheel folk. In their concerts, at -patriotic or religious festivals, the parts are distributed to -the musicians according to the irrespective talents; if they play -or sing well, nothing more is required. To improve natural gifts, -there is a singing-school for the insane. Müller, a distinguished -German composer and chief of the harmony club, is the director -designated by the public voice, who solicits the honor of -forming, among the insane, pupils who shall assist him in his -concerts. - -Several of the insane are members of the choir of Saint Dymphna. -Many of them piously mingle in the processions. They are often -seen in this church imploring on their knees the grace of heaven. -Only those whose illusion it is to believe themselves gods or -kings, do not kneel, but otherwise behave themselves with decency -and respect. Here, as elsewhere, individuals subject to -aberrations of reason, still undergo the influence of the -prevailing tone and manner of deportment, and give in their turn -good examples. They are generally much attached to the faith of -their childhood. In health or in sickness, and at the approach of -death, they are admitted to the sacraments of the church whenever -their condition is not such as to exclude moral conscience. These -acts raise the poor lunatic in his self-respect, and in the eyes -of the population they are a medicine of the soul. - -{837} - -Toward the close of the eighteenth century, when the rigors -previously enforced against the insane were relaxed, a king was -the first to experience the benefits of an opposite system. -George III. was treated by Willis on the conditions of personal -liberty, out-door amusements, and the family life. The sons of -Willis, faithful to their father's lessons, continued to receive -at Greatford, lunatics boarded in private families, but at prices -which limited this privilege to the wealthy. Gheel, without -splendid palaces, gardens, and parks, which delight visitors, but -make little impression on those who are used to them, accords to -the poorest the treatment of George III., and with the precious -addition of work. - -In France, Pinel was the promoter and persevering apostle of the -reform first inaugurated at Bicêtre, then extended to the -Salpétrière and Charenton. Aiming to raise to the dignity of -patients those hapless victims who had previously been treated as -criminals or as wild beasts, beaten and chained, he realized half -his programme in making them simple prisoners, watched and cared -for with intelligence. His successes were propagated throughout -Europe, and all public or private asylums abandoned the system of -direct violence or constraint, to give, in the measure of their -resources in grounds and buildings, a larger part to liberty of -action and to labor. The so-called "_non-restraint_" system -of England merely substitutes for active cruelties dark cells -padded with mattresses. Some asylums endeavor to utilize the -influence of the director's family circle, but only at Gheel are -the common rights of man accorded to the insane. Benevolent -sentiments toward the insane have been cherished in Mohammedan -countries; regular and methodical labor with a view to economy is -common to many establishments; excursions and amusements are -organized by a few: but nowhere so effectively as at Gheel have -liberty, sympathy, and labor been combined in the common interest -of the insane and of their keepers. These, with the sedative -influence of a mild, moist climate on the temperament, and the -consolations of religion for the soul, have almost divested -insanity of its dangers, and authorize emancipation from those -chains of stone which elsewhere weigh no less than chains of iron -on the unhappy victims of fear and distrust. - -This humble parish addresses to every conscience a lesson -eloquent in its simplicity of tender devotion toward our brothers -the most fallen, and whom the world disdains and repulses. It -shows how charity may precede and complete science. - ---------- - -{838} - - Life's Charity. - - -And the great sea closed over that wild struggle, and the wreck -went down with its precious freight of immortality! - -There was a single cry that came from the white lips, one glance -from the tearless, appealing eyes. - -"All ready!" sounded a rough voice from the long-boat. - -"For my child!" she called out to me, above the awful din and -tumult. And I could only clench the rosary with its precious -crucifix in my bosom, and spring into the already crowded boat. I -missed and fell, and, grasping an oar, fought the angry sea for -life. - -I vaguely recollect a fearful shriek, as the steamer turned and -settled; and when she sank, the strong current drew in the last -of the boats, the boat in which _she_ had taken refuge. I -closed my eyes, but in my ear rang the agony, the wild despair of -that cry, "My God! my God!" I suppose I fainted; for I only -remember opening my eyes on the deck of a small vessel, which was -scudding under bare poles before a perfect hurricane. Weeks -passed by, and in a quiet English village, on the soft, balmy -south coast, I lay trying to regain the strength which brain -fever had quite exhausted. - -My kind English nurse told me that through it all I grasped the -rosary, and her heart was touched by my devotion to the crucifix. -This recalled that fearful autumn morning, when, amid the dimness -of the fog, the _Arctic_ went down to her burial. - -Reverently I kissed the crucifix, and murmured my _Credo_; -from the very depths of my soul went upward, "I believe in God!" -Then, as I clasped the cross, I felt it move; but I went through -my prayers, and I suppose that the pressure of my hands caused -the spring to move, and a closely folded paper fell upon my -breast. The crucifix was large and hollow. I carefully unfolded -the delicate paper, and a shudder passed over me as the vision of -that pale woman, struggling amid the breakers, arose from -memory's gloaming. The very first words that met my eye were, "I -believe in God! and," she wrote, "I will follow his guidance. Far -from those that are dearest to me, I have buried my husband where -his fathers rest; and now, my child's voice calls me from my home -across the Atlantic. I dreamed last night of a fog, a dense mist, -that hung like a curtain; of a fearful crash, and a vision of -anguish that seems too real for dreaming; but my child's voice is -echoing in my heart, and may God speed my wanderings! A sorrow as -of coming woe oppresses me; but I believe in God! and his mercy -will save me. - -"My little daughter, Marguerite Cecil, is with her guardian, -Henry Alan, No. 86 East ---- street, New York. May the -everlasting Arms forever enfold her! - Ruth Cecil." - -Poor lamb! my heart whispered, the one idol, and so desolate! -Well, the spring found me on my journey to the busy metropolis; -and wending my way to East ---- street, I found the most elfish -little fairy that fate had ever set drifting on life's ocean all -alone. A bonnie wee thing was Madge Cecil; so frail that her -tenure here seemed too slight for holding; yet from the wonderful -gray eyes came flashes that gave promise of a splendid future. -{839} -Golden hair courted the sunbeams, and, flecked with light, -wrapped around the most graceful contour that twelve summers had -ever shone upon. She knew of her mother's death, for her deep -mourning dress contrasted almost painfully with the delicate -whiteness of her complexion. And when I drew her upon my knee and -put the rosary in her hand, she threw her arms around me, and -sobbed as though her heart would break. I really trembled as I -listened, for a storm of passionate agony was convulsing a frame -which had little to offer in combat. "Mamma! mamma!" she sobbed -out, and she clasped me closer. "Will God take me home to her? O -mamma! come back!" - -My heart ached for the child, whose grief seemed agonizing her -very soul, so I tried to quiet her, and told her of the brighter -home where, with the holy Mother of God, her own mother would be -singing hallelujahs. I told her that this earth was only a brief -journeying-place which led to the sweet haven of eternal love, -the land where farewells could never bring a cloud, nor partings -cast a shadow. Then the large gray eyes looked trustingly up into -my face, and with her arms around me, I felt the love of my heart -go out toward her with a strength and purity I had never known -before. - -Soon after this, her guardian placed her at Madame Cathaire's -large boarding-school, and "Uncle Hal," as she now called me, was -always her chosen confidant and friend. - -Years passed, and I watched her beautiful girlhood unfold. She -had rare talents, a quick intellect, and intense appreciation of -the beautiful; indeed, a purer spirit seldom lived in this mortal -tenement. Yet, with her enthusiastic, impulsive nature, she -possessed a quiet strength of control that caused visions of the -old martyrs to rise; for I felt that she, too, could wrestle with -passion, and, with God's grace, subdue all sin. - -And thus time sped on, and each passing season left its impress -only to mature and render more perfect the succeeding; and her -eighteenth birthday found her the realization of spiritual -loveliness. The exquisite golden curls of her childhood fell in -irregular waves from the low Grecian brow, and the sweet, earnest -eyes always recalled those of Guido's angel, bearing the branch -of lilies, in his beautiful picture of "The Annunciation." She -was living with her guardian, and her great wealth attracted many -in a city where gold is "the winning card." - -There was a charming freshness and _naïveté_ in the young -girl, and at times almost a religious light gleamed from the -depths of her large gray eyes. - -Her guardian's nephew, Henry Elsdon, had just returned from -Europe, and I watched him as he dallied, at first carelessly, -among the crowd that gathered around her. - -I did not fancy the young man, and there was an indescribable -barrier which rose up always when I tried to like him. He was -what the world would call handsome and _distingué_, but the -droop of the lower lip, the heavy jaw, and narrow forehead truly -told of the fierce animal nature within. Madge was very lovely in -this first season, and it was plainly apparent that he entirely -failed to impress her; indeed, at times her coldness toward him -was marked. - -On returning from vespers, one mild May evening, she asked me to -accompany her on her Sunday visits. Of course, I went, for who -could refuse her? Down the dark streets we wandered, till we -arrived at an old brick house that, a hundred years ago, may -possibly have been in its prime. -{840} -She tapped at the dingy door, and, like an angel of light, her -presence seemed to brighten the room. A sick woman lay stretched -on a miserable pallet, and a racking cough shook her weak frame; -but a smile of happiness illumined the pinched features, and her -voice was tender as it thanked Madge for her gentle deeds of -love. - -A woman's kindliness is nevermore beautifully displayed than in a -sick chamber; and my heart did homage to the young girl, as she -knelt by the sick woman's bed, murmuring, in low, comforting -tones, the prayer: - -"Visit, we beseech thee, O Lord! this habitation, and drive far -from it all the snares of the enemy. May thy holy angels dwell -herein, to preserve her in peace; and may thy holy benedictions -always remain with her, through Christ our Lord. Amen." - -Her face was radiant, and her upturned eyes were holy with -inspiration. Just then a shadow darkened the doorway, and I -looked, to meet the eyes of one perfectly absorbed in the scene -before him. My startled movement recalled Madge, and a soft color -deepened in her cheeks as she seemed to feel the observation of -the stranger. - -"O Miss Cecil! here is Mr. Grey, who has been as kind as -yourself. This is Miss Cecil, Mr. Grey." And then he advanced, -and the fading sunlight fell upon a splendid specimen of manhood. -Six feet of magnificently proportioned height, and a head which -Vandyke would have gloried in; steel-gray, flashing eyes, a brow -upon which intellect and will were marked, and a complexion which -the suns of Southern Europe had darkened into olive. - -"Pardon me. Miss Cecil, but the likeness is perfect, and the name -so familiar. Was your mother Ruth Anderson?" - -Tears streamed from her eyes as she half-whispered, "Yes!" She -could never speak calmly of her mother, for her love seemed only -to strengthen as years made the loss more keenly felt. In an -instant he was by her side, and, with the tender but perfectly -respectful manner--the manner so acceptable to a woman--he told -her how eagerly he had sought for this child of his old and -esteemed friend. He had gone abroad with her mother, and remained -in Europe till within a few months. He had read of the fearful -doom of the _Arctic_, and vainly tried to trace the child. - -"I need not tell you, Madge, how very glad I am to see you, and, -before long, I shall hope to be a very good friend." - -And they did meet very often. Madge spent the summer at Newport, -and Mr. Grey's cottage was near her guardian's lovely home. I -suppose there is truth in the old and familiar theory of elective -affinities; for the strength of his nature seemed to absorb her -gentle, loving trust, and her impulsive, passionate heart was -entirely swayed by his steady, strong affection; in truth, each -chord felt the echo from his. And so, in the autumn, I was not -surprised when she pointed to a magnificent _solitaire_ -diamond on the forefinger of her left hand, and told me that she -had promised to be the wife of Newton Grey. - -They had returned to New York, and Madge and Mr. Grey were -looking over a portfolio of engravings at the further end of the -library, while I sat smoking in front of the bright coal-fire, -dreaming day-dreams, as the smoke curled and floated away, when -suddenly the door opened and Henry Elsdon came in. I shall never -forget the look that, only for one single moment, darkened his -features; only for an instant his face looked thus, and then, -with a quick, soft step, he crossed the library, and -_suavely_ joined the circle -around the engravings. -{841} -I could see that Newton Grey would never stoop to suspect him; -but Madge recoiled from him, for there was not the slightest -affinity between such natures. - -"Uncle Hal," she told me one morning, "I always feel that I ought -to cross myself when Henry Elsdon comes near me, that I may pray -to be saved from some impending evil." - -And my lamb was right, for truly a wolf did prey near for her -destruction. - -Business called me to the South, and I left New York to breathe -the balmier air of Charleston. It was a delicious winter, that -soft season in the sunny South. Violets in the gardens in -December, and the scarlet winter roses and sweet mignonette -brightening the lovely villa--like houses on the battery. - -I was slowly descending the stone steps that led from the -beautiful cathedral, while the last echoes of the bishop's gentle -voice yet rang in my ears, when a letter was put into my hands by -my friend Colonel Everett. I did not open it then, but strolled -down Broad street, to the Mills House, and in my pleasant room I -sat down to enjoy Madge Cecil's confidence. Imagine my horror as -I read: - -"Come to me, dear Uncle Hal, for God alone can strengthen me in -this fearful sorrow. I cannot understand, but yesterday Mr. Grey -left me after a short visit, and to-day they tell me that he is -dead. I hear low whisperings of a terrible sin, of which Henry -Elsdon is guilty. For my dead mother's sake, come and aid your -desolate Madge." - -I left that evening, and on Saturday held my darling in my arms. -Then the whole story in its fearful detail was repeated. Henry -Elsdon had wished to marry my ward, but she had refused him, some -time before her engagement with Newton Grey. Elsdon's pride was -piqued, and he determined to be revenged. Then began a system of -deceit that was Machiavelian; for with subtle skill he won Grey's -friendship, till at last, in one unguarded moment, he dared to -speak lightly of Madge. In an instant Grey rose, his face white -with a terrible calm: - -"I am in my own rooms, Mr. Elsdon, therefore you are safe; but -you must feel that each word that you have uttered shall be -retracted, else there can be but one settlement." - -"And, by God! there shall be but one settlement!" And Elsdon's -face glared with hate. - -And so in the code that teaches murder--cold, passionless, brutal -murder--they sought refuge; and Newton Grey fell, pierced through -the temples. - -Sorrows seem truly convoyed on this ocean of life, this sea of -wild unrest; for in a few months Mr. Alan lost his fortune, and, -of course, my ward's wealth was also engulfed in the great -whirlpool of ruin. - -A strange suspicion clouded my heart, and with an intuition of -the truth, I felt that I could single out the demon who had -spread destruction in this home. - -But with the suavity of deceit, he subtly turned aside the tide -of censure, so justly his due, and the world even forgave him for -the duel; for strange travestied stories floated through the -city. Who gave them to the public? I felt, I knew that Henry -Elsdon had only added to the infamy which weighed upon his soul; -but as yet the avenger had not struck, the race of hell had not -been accomplished! ... - -It was the exciting winter of '60 -- December, 1860! South -Carolina had torn herself from her sisters, and Washington was in -a ferment. Crowds congregated at the hotels to watch the opening -of a season fraught with destiny. -{842} -Men with reckless, evil passions increased the excitement; for -cognac burned and whiskey infuriated, and the whole mass of -humanity seemed consumed by the one madness, mutual hate! - -It was the evening of the 27th of December. The telegraph had -spread the news of Anderson's evacuation of Fort Moultrie, and -the agitation was culminating in effort. There is a season when -enthusiasm pulses, till the wild madness intoxicates all feeling; -then some sudden crowding on of events drives the fierce current -into action, and the mighty mass heaves and surges with one will, -one heart, for the conflict; and so it was to night. I stood on -the corner of Pennsylvania avenue and Seventh street, watching -the changing faces which the gas-light flared upon, when a -woman's voice in wild terror startled me. "In the name of the -cross, forbear!" she cried. And I turned to see a face pale with -fear and horror. In an instant I was beside her; she held the -cross of her rosary toward the man who had dared, not only to -insult a woman, but one of God's ministering angels, those pure -spirits of comfort, the Sisters of Mercy. - -I struck the brute from her, but not without recognizing the -features, even though inflamed and distorted by liquor. She -almost fainted in my arms, but I placed her in my sister's -carriage, just then passing, and ordered it to drive to the -address which she gave. - -What there was in the tones of that woman's voice I could not -explain to myself; but a sad chord vibrated till the echoes waked -in my heart feelings that I thought were sleeping quietly in a -jealously guarded grave of the past. ... - -Four years had gone by since that night, and the war that shook -this continent had closed; ended were the years that had brought -their holocaust, the proof of the calibre of the men who had died -on the field of honor. - -Grant's triumphant legions garrisoned the Confederate capital, -and I was appointed surgeon in charge of ---- Hospital, where the -sick and wounded of both armies were tended by the Sisters of -Mercy. - -The intense heat of those early summer days I can never forget, -and the poor fellows in blue and gray tossed from side to side on -the narrow cots in the fever wards. It was my night in ---- -Hospital, for I was appointed to relieve Dr. ----, and I observed -a "sister" bending over a patient whose white face and faint -voice told me that his hours were numbered. - -"Sister Mary," said the feeble tones, "will you bathe my temples? -they burn and throb as fiercely as my own heart. Sister, can a -vile wretch ask you to stand near when he is dying? Sister, you -who are pure and holy, tell me if God will pardon me?" - -"He came to save sinners!" I heard the low voice whisper. And she -smoothed back the tangled masses of dark, waving hair, and -tenderly soothed the poor fevered brow on which the dews of death -were gathering. "Stay near me, sister. Let me hold your hand, -while I listen to your voice, that recalls one in the long ago. O -God! look down in mercy!" - -And she whispered sweet words of comfort that calmed the unrest -of sin and shame. - -"Sister, if I could give all the years that I have wasted, if I -would toil and struggle and pray for pardon, would Christ have -mercy upon one whose years are heavily weighted with sin?" - -"Repent, and ye shall be saved." - -{843} - -"Ah God! I do repent, and if a thousand years of suffering could -atone for all, I would not shrink from a single pang. Sister," -and he turned and held her hand closer, and gazed long and -anxiously into her half-averted face. "My God! can it be?" But -she turned further into the shadowy twilight, and her face was -almost hidden. "Sister, I must tell you, because there is -something in your tone and look, though I cannot see you well, -that brings her back to me; so be patient for a little while and -do not leave me yet. In the long ago I loved, and she whom I -worshipped gave me no return. I think that circumstances might -have moulded her differently, though my selfish passions taught -me then to care for little, save what contributed to my own -gratification. Well, I watched her love for another, and the -devil influenced me; he stole away my truth, my love, my honor! I -was mad with jealousy, I was wild with disappointed love, and I -swore to be revenged. Therefore the schemes I laid, the deceit I -practised; ay, I bided well my time. I stole the friendship of -her lover, and poured my poison into his ears; but his noble -nature shamed me, his trust could not be shaken; then--ah! how -well I remember the evening--I spoke of her as my heart never -believed; I lied, wickedly, maliciously lied, upon her! Then his -knightly spirit rose, and he fell by my hand! I had begun; the -poison was maddening; I could not stop, even though murder barred -my path; so I counselled her guardian as to investments, and in -one mad moment her fortune crashed with his. - -"Still I tracked her on her mission of mercy to Washington; I -dogged her steps when she left the couch of the sick woman whose -death agonies she had soothed; I stood near the door of the -wretched hovel, listening to the sweet tones of her voice that is -haunting me to-night; and--I hardly knew what I was doing, I only -felt that there was yet something undone which might humble her, -might place her at my mercy; hell's fires raged in my heart--and, -may God forgive me, but I spoke words to her which no man should -utter and live. But she escaped me, and was torn from my grasp, -while her pallid face grew whiter still as she spoke in terror, -'In the name of the cross, forbear!' - -"Since that evening, I have never seen her face; but, sister, -to-night all her saintly purity comes back to shame me, and I -feel that the flames of hell would be less fiery if I could hear -her say, 'I forgive you!'" There was a brief pause; the twilight -of June shadowed the whitewashed wards, and the young moon shed a -soft light over the starry heavens; but was it a message that -flashed from Our Lady's crown, that lit the pallet over which the -sister leaned? Ay, the face of Guido's angel, the angel of the -lilies, shone over the dying man, as the sweet voice whispered, -"Do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which -despitefully use you." - -"Her voice!" he cried. And a sudden strength seemed to possess -him; for, seizing her hand, he pushed back the black bonnet, and -whispered, "Madge Cecil, dare I pray for your pardon?" - -"And forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass -against us. Amen." And she gave him her crucifix, which he -pressed to his lips. - -"Then let me die in your faith; for, if its doctrines teach you -even to forgive me, then through the prayers of your church will -God grant mercy to my soul." He fainted in her arms, and she -summoned me. - -"Dr. ----, take care of him till my return." - -{844} - -I had heard it all, but she failed to recognize me. Grief had -whitened my hair, and an iron-gray beard covered my face; and I -preferred that she should not know me yet Soon I saw her return -with Father Baker. My cordial had revived Elsdon, and in faint -voice he repeated his wish. - -"Let me be received, father, into the communion of the Holy -Catholic Church, and pray God to have mercy on my soul." - -The time was short, and no precious moment of it was to be lost. -The good priest proceeded at once to his work of preparing the -poor man for death. His penitence seemed sincere and profound, -and his desire for the sacraments of the church most earnest. -They were at once administered to him; and on his fervently -expressed wish that the holy viaticum might be permitted to him, -it was brought. - -A snowy linen cloth was spread on the table by his bed, and two -candles placed beside the crucifix. Solemnly we gathered near, -for we felt that his life was fast fleeting. I have never seen -nor realized more of the agony of contrition than when he slowly -repeated after the priest, suffering at each word most intensely, -"Jesus, Son of the living God, have mercy upon me!" At last he -grew calmer. A quiet peace rested on his pale face, and after -receiving the most holy communion, he murmured faintly, "Jesus, -have mercy on me! Holy Mary, pray for me!" and folding the -crucifix to his heart, he closed his eyes and we thought he -slept. A deathlike stillness reigned, broken only by the solemn -tones of the priest's voice: "Into thy hands we commend his -spirit, which has been created and redeemed by thee!" - -And in that pentecostal hour, when the storm of her life wailed -its wild requiem in her heart, a holy calm, as a message from -God, glorified her exquisite face, for the Comforter had sealed -her with the expiation--the working out of life's great charity-- -"Do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which -despitefully use you and persecute you." - --------------- - - The Rights Of Catholic Women. - - By A Lady. - - - [We took occasion, some months ago, to sketch a number of the - charitable works of Paris, in the hope of stirring the - emulation of some of our leisured, zealous, and wealthy - fellow-citizens to undertake something of the kind in this - densely crowded city. The correspondent whose communication is - given below, and whose contributions have often graced our - pages, has felt her soul stirring with the same impulse in - visiting Catholic Europe. Her earnest words came appropriately - after the letter we published last month respecting a Refuge or - Central Mission-House for vagabond children. There lies an open - field where hundreds may work without jostling each other; and - we hope this iron may be hammered while it is hot into a - practical shape, and not merely serve as a poker to a useless - fire of sentimental philanthropy. There is nothing like - reducing the abstract to the concrete, sentiment to work, - resolution to definite action. - -{845} - - We venture to suggest something else, also, to those of our - fair readers who may be awakened to a desire of claiming their - woman's rights by the appeal of their gifted countrywoman. It - is practical, and yet not so difficult, as sending checks for - one thousand dollars, or searching the streets for vagrant - children. A society exists in Paris for making and embroidering - vestments and other ornaments for the altars of poor churches - and missions. Why not inaugurate the same work among the ladies - of New York, for the benefit, first, of small country churches - and chapels in our own diocese, and secondarily of similar - churches elsewhere? We cannot rival Paris by a sudden _coup - de main_ or accomplish everything in a day. But it is - possible to make a beginning with one necessary work of charity - after another, and to bring them gradually to the colossal - dimensions which want and misery and vice have attained without - any effort.--Ed. C. W.] - - -In _The Atlantic Monthly_ of April and May, 1868, appeared a -generous and high-toned article, entitled "Our Roman Catholic -Brethren," in which the author, appreciating the fact that no one -can lose ground by treating with justice those who differ from -him in opinion, frankly recognized the noble struggles of our -priesthood and the success with which they have been crowned. - -One assertion in this article we shall venture to comment upon, -making this the occasion for a few suggestions to the Catholic -women of the United States, whose right to share the labors of -Catholic men is inalienable and incontestable, being founded upon -the unvarying teaching of the church. - -The author, in speaking of a missionary bishop whom he had known -and respected as an "absolute gentleman," an "exquisite human -being," in whom all the frailties springing from self-love had -been consumed, leaving the "whole man kind, serene, urbane, and -utterly sincere," concludes thus: "_A Catholic priest, indeed, -would be much to blame if he failed to attain a high degree of -serenity, moral refinement, and paternal dignity;_" because, -be it understood, he has neither family cares nor business -anxieties to harass him. - -Most assuredly true, so far as concerns priests in a Catholic -country, where the ranks of the priesthood are full; perhaps true -in a purely missionary country, where the priest, in his -intervals of repose, communes with his only companions, God and -nature; absolutely untrue when applied to a parish priest in the -United States, drained of his spiritual riches all day, and often -half the night, and for relaxation thrown sometimes upon the -companionship of his inferiors. It is no uncommon thing to see a -noble priest, at the very centre and core of life, when powers -should be ripe, strength unbroken, hope and nerves unshaken, -break down, crushed under the weight of work which should have -been divided between several persons, leaving to each one work -enough to occupy a man of average capacity, time for study, and -time for the recuperation of his spiritual powers by prayer and -meditation. - -Now, where is the remedy for this? Not in a sufficient number of -clergymen, because we cannot hope for such a blessing for many -years to come. Not in a diminution of labor, thank God, for the -domain of the church is constantly widening, and souls are -clamoring more and more eagerly for the privileges of religion. -{846} -The assistance must come from the laity, not working each one -after a fashion of his or her own, but in a systematic manner, -doing the work recommended by the parish priest in the way most -agreeable to him. - -That the Conference of St. Vincent de Paul contains all the -elements necessary for providing Catholic men with missionary -work, we are well aware; therefore we address ourselves -exclusively to Catholic women. - -Early in February of the present year, on a radiant Roman day, -the remains of Saint Ignatius, bishop and martyr, were brought in -triumph to the Colosseum from their resting-place in San -Clemente. There, where, 1758 years before, the cry had gone up -from 80,000 spectators, "Ignatius to the lions!" the Litany of -the Saints arose to heaven; there, where wild beasts had snarled -over their consecrated prey, canonized bones lay on a gorgeous -bier, surrounded by cardinals, bishops, priests, and religious, -gathering about them in veneration. One, at least, of those who -watched the scene from the crumbling galleries, asked herself -eagerly if God has ceased to call upon his children for -sacrifices, as he called upon the early Christians; and -conviction answered. No; that, though martyrdom has a mysterious -value in the eyes of the church, she tenderly loves those who -patiently endure the pangs of "that incurable malady which we -call life." - -And the Christian passing through the catacombs of Rome to-day, -pausing in silent awe beside the tombs of martyred virgins, -mothers, children, and pontiffs, draws in with every breath the -same glorious assurance which gave them strength to suffer--the -assurance that God would have us serve him with every nerve and -fibre of our being. He claims from the nineteenth century, as he -claimed from the first, not, indeed, its blood, but its energies, -its faith, its charity. He summons every soul capable of the -sacrifice of self to a life in the catacombs, to a holy, interior -solitude, where his inspirations can be distinctly heard, where -the buzz and hum of the world are inaudible. And as, after the -celebration of the sacred mysteries, the early Christians were -dismissed, and sent back to the performance of their ordinary -avocations, invigorated and renewed; so God releases such souls -after communing with them, and sends them forth to work for him, -setting upon them three signs to distinguish them from other -laborers--peace, simplicity, and perseverance. - -In the early ages the laity suffered martyrdom with the clergy. -In our own day, the laity should share the labor of the clergy. -We are not summoned to bear witness to God in one mighty -confession of faith sealed with our blood; but we are bound to -show our fidelity to him by lives of unremitting devotion, to -lighten the burdens weighing on the priesthood, to do our utmost -to leave them leisure for the direction of souls, and for those -works of supererogation which are the very heart and pulses of a -life consecrated to God. - -There are four things which we do not wish to recommend to -Catholic women; namely, neglect of domestic duties, overexertion -on the part of invalids, indiscreet activity in recent converts, -the undertaking of difficult enterprises by those who are not -gifted with executive faculty. - -Home is the training-school of souls, and a mother's chief duty -is to her husband and children. The physically weak serve God by -renunciation and sacrifice, hardest and noblest of all -apostleships. Converts, generally speaking, should show their -families, by tact, affection, fidelity to home duties, that -conversion has only knit them more closely to old friends and to -natural claims; and this is seldom consistent with much exterior -activity soon after conversion. It is very rarely advisable to -undertake any work of importance without the advice of a -judicious confessor; a just appreciation of one's personal -strength and weakness is too rare a gift to be relied upon as a -right. - -{847} - -It is our misfortune in the United States that the number of -communities is very small in proportion to the work to be done; -but though a clergyman would rather receive assistance from -religious than from any one else, he would gratefully accept the -aid of women of the world, provided they were possessed of -judgment, tact, and perseverance. - -To take up a charitable enterprise from love of excitement and -lay it aside just as one's assistance had become valuable, would -not be a proceeding modelled on the actions of the early -Christians. - -To make one's way into a public institution to patients or -prisoners in a manner at variance with the regulations of the -establishment, would not tend to advance the cause of religion. - -To foster the whims of the poor and excite in them false wants, -would add to their sufferings, not lessen them. - -All these mistakes may easily be made by well-meaning persons who -have not prudence. With fidelity, modesty, and common sense, it -is impossible to make serious blunders, and it is possible to do -a great deal of good without the sacrifice of much time or -comfort. - -Those who have health and leisure can work for the church; those -who are too busy or too ill to undertake missionary labor can -pray for the church. All who have an hour to spend or an ave and -pater to recite, or an ache or a pain to offer to Almighty God, -can do their share of the blessed work. - -Without questioning the fact that the highest of all vocations is -the call to a religious life--conceding the point that the work -done by women has been usually better done by religious than by -women of the world--we think there is a tendency to deny, to -that obligation resting upon us all to do the work God marked out -for us, the name of _vocation_, unless it leads us to a life -in the community or to marriage. We venture to predict that an -important share is to be taken in the work of the church in this -country by women who have neither a vocation to join a religious -order nor to marry. - -There is a correspondence between the various vocations of -religious orders and those of persons living in the world. Let us -read over the golden record, and decide which path we are called -to follow. There are the working orders, Sisters of Charity, of -Mercy, of the Good Shepherd; the teaching orders, Ursulines, -Sisters of the Visitation, Ladies of the Sacred Heart, and that -sweetest of orders, the Sisters of Notre Dame, whose fame is -hidden behind humility and obedience; and the contemplative -orders, on whose prayers hang the fruit of thousands of energetic -enterprises. - -Most of the prisons, work-houses, and hospitals in the United -States need the influence of judicious women. As such -institutions are almost exclusively filled with poor people, and -as more than half our poor people are Catholics, more than half -the inmates of asylums, penitentiaries, etc., are Catholics; it -is, then, a matter of justice that Catholic prisoners, patients, -and paupers should be under Catholic influences. -{848} -Obedience to discipline is a principle most strongly inculcated -by the church, and no consistent servant of the church will -infringe the smallest regulation in any institution to which he -has admission. When this truth is fully recognized, Catholic -ladies will be allowed to visit freely all the public -establishments in the Union. Let those who wish to do work -corresponding to that of the working orders use all available -opportunities for alleviating the sufferings and ameliorating the -condition of the lower classes. - -There are hosts of children who must learn the catechism; not -after a parrot-like fashion, such as any ignorant person can -teach it to them, but in a vital manner, so that the truth shall -be set in their souls like a jewel, to be transmitted to future -generations as a precious heritage. Every well-disposed and -intelligent Catholic child can be sent forth from his course of -instruction in the Sunday-school with the fervent determination -to be a missionary in his own little sphere. Those who emulate -the labors of the teaching orders have not far to seek for their -work. - -The Catholic literature of France, Germany, and Italy should be -in general circulation in America, through the medium of good -translations. Women are especially fitted to be translators. -Their impressionable and adaptive minds make it easy for them to -understand an author's thought and adopt his style. Let those who -would follow in the footsteps of the contemplatives of earlier -ages, whose leisure hours were given to writing for the benefit -of religion, study critically their mother tongue and one other -modern language, and thus unlock some of the treasures of foreign -literature to those less gifted than themselves. - -But enough, and more than enough for the present. We have sought -to arouse a sense of the importance of the work to be done, not -to explain the best method of accomplishing it. We have tried to -show Catholic women what are their rights, leaving it to God to -awaken in them a noble ambition to claim and appropriate those -rights. - --------------- - - The Last Gasp Of The Anti-catholic Faction. - - -Protestantism and the Protestant denominations may be considered -under two aspects. Under one aspect, the former is an imperfect -Christianity, and the latter are societies professing each a -certain form of this Christianity. As such we respect them, -recognize the Christian and evangelical truths they retain, honor -the virtue and goodness which are found among their adherents, -and freely admit their great utility in many important -particulars. We have no desire to wage a fierce polemical war -upon them, but rather desire to discuss with them in a fraternal -spirit the differences between us, the causes which keep us in -separation, and the means of reconciliation and reunion. - -Under the other aspect, the one is a denial of the first -principles of Christianity, and the others are aggregations under -the control of party-leaders whose principal object is the -destruction of the church of Christ with its dogmas and -discipline. -{849} -Although particular denominations do not avow a hostile intent -toward all dogma and discipline, each one professing to maintain -whatever it has selected as its constitutive principle out of the -entire Christian system, yet the general sum and result of their -combined efforts against the Catholic Church tends to the utter -demolition of Christianity. This active, anti-Catholic -Protestantism in our own day and country is principally confined -to a comparatively small fraction of nominal Protestants. It is a -wheel within a wheel, an _imperium in imperio_, a ring, a -faction, very impotent, but extremely turbulent. The deadly -quarrels of its component members with each other interfere -materially with their unity of action against their common enemy. -Now and then, however, a common sentiment seems to awaken in them -that they had better postpone their private disputes until they -have compassed by their united energies the fall of Babylon. Such -a phenomenon has appeared quite recently in the ecclesiastical -heavens. The newspapers of the principal sects have resounded -with a call for united efforts on the part of Episcopalians, -Presbyterians, Unitarians, etc., against the progress of the -Catholic Church in the United States. Dr. Bellows, who is as -restless as if he were pursued by the Eumenides, and who seems to -get into a more uncomfortable frame of mind every day as he -prosecutes his travels, sends over a loud call showing the -necessity of doing something to preserve that Protestantism which -it has been the business of his life to overwhelm with ridicule -and contempt. The liberal papers, false to their reiterated -protestations of hatred against orthodox Protestantism and -sympathy with Catholics, re-echo the sound, which is taken up by -one and another of the lowing presses in turn, until each one -_quid lachrymabile mugit_. Dear friends, what is the matter? -If you will permit the citation of a somewhat trite classical -passage, permit us to ask, _Tantaene animis coelestibus -irae?_ We have been much at a loss to divine the immediate -exciting cause of such a sudden aggravation of symptoms in our -domestic "sick man." We think, however, that we have at last -discovered that we are the innocent cause ourselves, through a -few little harmless tracts, which were intended as a poultice, -but have proved, we suppose on account of the extreme -irritability of the patient's skin, a violent blister. We made -the discovery by reading the following circular, which we publish -cheerfully, in order to promote as much as possible that free and -lively discussion which our excellent friends at the Bible House -desire: - - (Private.) - - American and Foreign Christian Union, - 27 Bible House, New York, - June 17, 1868. - - Mr. Editor: - - Dear Sir: We are desirous of employing, in your journal, the - pen of one of your ablest contributors, in the fair and - thorough discussion of the recent publications and pretensions - of the Roman Catholic Church. - - You have doubtless seen some of the popular tracts of the - "Catholic Publication Society." They have been circulated in - all parts of the country with great assiduity. They are very - ingenious and plausible, and very fallacious. It is matter of - common interest to all who love evangelical truth that these - fallacies should be promptly and effectively exposed. - -{850} - - We have a proposition to make which seems to us to be for the - mutual advantage both of your enterprise and of ours. If you - will send us the address of that one of your contributors or - collaborators whose papers on this subject will be most - acceptable to you and your readers, we will make proposals to - him for contributions to your journal, we supplying him with a - copy of the series of popular tracts of the "Catholic - Publication Society," and such other documents as he may need, - and paying for his literary labor at a generous rate of - compensation. - - If you shall succeed in introducing us to writers on the Roman - Catholic controversy who are learned, accurate, and courteous, - and at the same time lively and effective in their popular - style, we shall hope to continue and renew an arrangement which - must be for the advantage of all the parties to it, and of the - great cause of Christian truth. - - Yours respectfully, - J. Romeyn Berry, - H. C. Riley, - Leonard W. Bacon, - E. F. Hatfield, - Samuel I. Prime, - - _Committee on Publications of the "American - and Foreign Christian Union_." - -Naturally, we have been on the alert ever since receiving this -interesting circular, expecting a rare treat from the articles to -be furnished by the learned, courteous, lively, and well-paid -contributors to the press who must have jumped at once at this -handsome offer. We have not yet gathered in a very ample -collection of choice _morçeaux_ as the result of our study -of the anti-Catholic press. We have obtained, however, a few -gleanings which may be indications of an abundant harvest yet to -come. Here is one from _The Episcopalian_, which no reader -of that paper will expect to find either accurate, courteous, or -lively, but which, as communicating a piece of rare and recondite -information, may fitly prove a sample of the "learned" style: - - "It has been suggested--and, we think, not without some - reason--that the origin of ritualism in the Protestant - Episcopal Church may be traced to the Roman Catholic Church - itself; in other words, that the Roman Church, with the view of - proselyting the Episcopal Church, has sent among us secret - emissaries, of the Jesuit stamp, who, while pretending to be - Episcopalians, are really Romanists, and whose mission it is to - introduce one Romish novelty after another, until the - congregations in which they are introduced are gradually but - surely drawn into the communion of the Romish Church. - - "To those who have studied the far-seeing policy of the Roman - Church, and its secret workings for ages past, this suggestion - will not seem strange or far-fetched. That equally subtle means - for proselyting have been used by that church in times past no - one can doubt who has read its history; and what has been done - can be done--or, at least, tried--again. - - "Freese. - "Trenton, N.J., June, 1868." - -The following, from _The Brooklyn Union_, if not learned or -lively, is at least in a high degree "accurate and courteous," -being a most respectful remonstrance against the audacity of -Catholics in presuming to be so numerous, and to lay the -corner-stone of a cathedral in open day on Sunday: - - "He that Rules the City Rules the Country.--The Pope of Rome - well knows this axiom. The Jesuits know it. The politician - knows it. They all _act_ upon it. Cities are chosen as - their centres of organization. From these centres their power - radiates through every town and village and hamlet and district - of our land. In a government like our own, this is particularly - true. The pulsations of life and power of our larger cities, - both in religion and politics, indicate the condition, in these - respects, of our whole country. Hence the favored policy of the - Papal hierarchy of inducing its subjects, when emigrating to - the United States, to settle within the limits or easy access - of our cities. Statistics show that the foreign Papal - immigration, East, West, North, and South, settle chiefly - within or about our cities. -{851} - No one with his eyes open has failed to see this with respect - to New York, New Orleans, St. Louis, Chicago, Cincinnati, and - Buffalo. The _foreign_ population of these cities - _rule_ them. They present a majority of thirty thousand in - New York. What may be their exact proportions in our other - populous cities, the writer has at present no means of - ascertaining. But from the number, the grandeur, and the - costliness of their cathedrals and educational institutions in - other cities--in such as Chicago and St. Louis--we should judge - that their number is greater in proportion to their population - than it is in New York. This statement has reference to the - Papists. For the _infidel_ proportion who come to our - shores from Europe, and who have been driven to infidelity by - the tyranny and wickedness of Papacy, have no sympathy with - that system in propagating its means of worship. All their - sympathies are with our free institutions. Their licentiousness - and disregard of the Christian Sabbath are the fruit of their - infidelity. Even for this the Papal Church is responsible - before God. But the Papacy, in its _spirit_ and in its - _policy_ and in its _designs_, is opposed to our - republican government. It is the sworn inveterate enemy to - every principle and policy which favors republicanism. No - bishop, no priest, and no member of the Papal Church ever has - been or ever can be a loyal subject of a free government. Every - pretence or profession or act which they avow to the contrary - is the necessary outgrowth of wilful deception, hypocrisy, and - falsehood. Among the _masses_ of her members an oath of - loyalty may be the result of ignorance; and it may be permitted - to remain of binding authority so long as it does not conflict - with their first and paramount obligations with their church. - But with the bishops, the priests, and the Jesuitical hordes of - their hierarchy, an oath of loyalty or of testimony is of no - value as a test of truthfulness. Nay, it is often taken as a - means of deception, to accomplish some concealed purpose. Their - fundamental doctrines of _mental reservation_ and - _universal subordination_ to Rome necessarily exclude from - their virtues that of true patriotism. That this hierarchy has - for some years past been collecting, arranging, and - concentrating the elements of her strength in and around the - cities of the United States, is evident to any one who has - watched its progress. Her power is abundantly manifest in the - influence which she has exerted in the legislation of our - cities and our states, in the appointments of many of our - highest offices of trust and power, in the disposition and - distribution of our public charities, and in the control of our - popular system of education; and that the time has come, in - their judgment, when she can, with safety to herself, openly - assert her power, can be seen in the popular tracts, now - numbering some thirty-one, of her religious press, in the - public discussions of her periodicals, in her - politico-religious organizations, as well as in her open and - defiant Sabbath parades, and other desecrations of that blessed - day. Let her have full scope to her power and freedom _as a - church, in a legitimate way_. Let her seek to build up her - cause as a system of religion, the same as Protestant churches - in our country. But let her not attempt to ride rough-shod upon - the rights of Protestants by her noisy parades, with drum and - fife and boisterous shouts in front of our churches upon the - Sabbath--by her insolent and brutal outrages upon unoffending - Protestants when peaceably pursuing their avocations. Let her - no longer refuse to listen to the respectful remonstrances of - American citizens against such encroachments. Public religious - services and the administration of the Lord's Supper in some of - our churches were almost entirely prevented by the noise and - confusion of the Papal parade on a late Sabbath. This nuisance - has been _repeated_ in New York and Brooklyn in opposition - to the respectful but earnest petition of Protestant laymen and - clergy. On these occasions, several of our largest streets were - piled up with city passenger-cars, that were forced to stop - running on account of the procession. And what was all this - confusion, all this violation of law and order, upon the - Christian Sabbath for? Why, simply that a single Papal - congregation might lay the corner-stone of the church of the - 'Immaculate Conception.' Hundreds of quiet and orderly churches - must be interrupted in their worship, the rights of large - corporations must be trampled under foot, and the stillness of - the Sabbath be invaded by the drum and fife and shout of a - _drunken rabble_, for the sake of a single Papal - congregation! Such occasions are not without a purpose. They - afford the priesthood a fine opportunity of testing the - strength of numbers, of trying the patience of the Protestant - community, of gradually corrupting their respect for the - Christian Sabbath, and of intimidating politicians with a show - of power. Their design is a _political_ one. There is no - religion about it. Her power is broken upon the 'Seven Hills' - of Italy, and she is trying now to re-establish it in the - metropolis of America. But who dare array himself against her - avowed determination to subordinate all things to her purpose? -{852} - What politician, what party, or what partisan newspaper dare - oppose the _political_ system of Papal hierarchy? It - remains for the Protestant clergy of our evangelical - denominations to take up the cause of religious liberty. No one - will dare to speak out if they remain silent. The eyes of all - are toward them. They must take the lead in the conflict with - 'the man of sin.' God has thrown the responsibility upon them. - They can, if they will, sway both the religious and political - destinies of our nation. Let no one talk about the danger or - the fanaticism of introducing politics into our pulpits. The - days of such cowardly conservatism are past. Let politicians as - well as Papists, at whose feet the former bow, be made to feel - that patriotism is a Christian virtue, and that its sacred fire - is kept alive and pure only in the breasts of those who swear - by an open Bible and a free conscience. If our Protestant - ministers will do their duty, the masses of our people will see - the danger which threatens us. They will unite their strength - in a successful issue with the powers of darkness, and our - politicians, seeing the strength of such a combination, will - withhold their sympathy and patronage from a system which, in - the garb of _religion_, aims its death-blow at the very - root of our civil liberty. - C." - -The following is a specimen of the "lively and effective" style: - - Catholicism. - - A Reply To J. G. Parton's Article In The Atlantic Monthly. - - This little treatise is respectfully presented to J. G. Parton - and all our Catholic brethren, by their brother and friend, - Charles W. Gilbert. - - "And Jesus came and spake unto them, saying. _All power_ - is given unto me in heaven and in earth."--Matthew xxviii. 18. - - "This is the _stone_ which was set at naught of you - builders, which is become the head of the corner. Neither is - there _salvation_ in any other: for there is _none_ - other name under heaven given among men, _whereby we must be - saved_."--Acts iv. 11, 12. - - "It behooved him to be made like unto his brethren, that he - might be a merciful and faithful high-priest in things - pertaining to God, to make reconciliation for the sins of the - people. For in that he himself hath suffered being tempted, he - is able to succor them that are tempted."--Hebrews ii. 17, 18. - - - Galesburg, June 22, 1868. - Mr. J. G. Parton: Dear Sir: I flatter myself you will excuse me - for the liberty I have taken in addressing you this letter. It - has been called for by reading a communication in _The - Atlantic Monthly_, in April last, respecting our Catholic - brethren. - - I have neither time nor space to write half I want to, only to - mention a few points: And first, you say there is a difference - between Catholics and Protestants in the mode of praying; you - say a Protestant hides his face in his hands, but Catholics do - not, though they kneel, but the body is upright. Dear sir, do - you not know the reason? Our Catholic brethren worship images, - which God has forbidden. Turn to the second commandment: "Thou - shalt not make unto thee any graven image, or any likeness of - anything that is in heaven above, or that is in the earth - beneath," etc. "Thou shalt not bow down thyself to them, nor - serve them: for I the Lord thy God am a jealous God, visiting - the iniquity of the fathers upon the children unto the third - and fourth generation of them that hate me; and showing mercy - unto thousands of them that love me, and keep my commandments. - Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain: for - the Lord will not hold him guiltless that taketh his name in - vain. Remember the Sabbath-day, to keep it holy. Six days shalt - thou labor, and do all thy work," etc. Take your Bible and read - all the commandments. - - Dear sir, can you find one of our Roman Catholic brethren that - keeps the commandments? Turn to the First Epistle general of - John, second chapter, fourth verse, "He that saith, I know him, - and keepeth not his commandments, is a _liar_, and the - truth is not in him." - - You speak of their communion. Do they drink the _wine_ and - eat the bread, as Christ has commanded? No, no! A little wafer - is put on the tongue. Please turn to the seventeenth chapter of - Revelation, fourth verse. - - The next topic is the Catholic Sabbath-school. Sir, what is a - Sabbath-school _without_ the _Bible_ to direct us how - to teach little children the way of life and salvation? Do you - not know that the priests do not allow the Bible to be read in - a Sabbath-school nor in a day-school? This is the reason they - will not send their children to the Protestant schools. - -{853} - - What said St. Paul to Timothy? "And that from a _child_ - thou hast known the Holy Scriptures, which are _able_ to - make thee wise unto salvation through _faith_ which is in - Christ Jesus."--2 Timothy iii. 15, We read also, in the - sixteenth verse, "_All_ Scripture is given by inspiration - of God, and is profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for - correction, for instruction in righteousness." - - What said Jesus? "Search the Scriptures; for in them ye think - ye have _eternal life_: and they are they which testify of - me."--John v. 39. - - You say the children in the Sabbath-school sing to the Virgin - Mary the following stanza, "O Mary! Mother," etc. Dear sir, who - is this Mother Mary? Let Christ answer. Turn to Matthew xii. - 50: "For whosoever shall do the will of my Father which is in - heaven, the same is my brother, and sister, and mother." Read - also in Mark iii. 35; also Luke viii, 21. - - You quote the prayer that the superintendent uttered, in Latin. - How _edifying_ that must have been to the children, - especially when he used the word _immaculate_ Host! Could - the children have understood that word, they would have - blushed. - - You give us a glowing description of the different cathedrals, - and how they are occupied. Now, my dear sir, let me tell you, - the best prayer-meeting that I ever enjoyed was in a - _log-cabin_. Read St. John iv. 23, 24. Jesus told the - woman of Samaria that the hour had now come "when the - _true_ worshippers shall worship the Father in spirit and - in truth; for the Father seeketh such to worship him. God is a - Spirit: and they that worship him must worship him in spirit - and in truth." Christ told the woman of Samaria she need not go - up into the mountains nor to Jerusalem to worship the Father, - but anywhere, in the log-cabin or in your house, if you worship - God in spirit. - - The next topic is, you say: "Our Catholic brethren are very - candid, and are as truly and entirely convinced of the truth of - their religion as any Protestant." - - I am now almost seventy-three years of age, and have labored - among our Catholic brethren more than forty years. I have seen - many of them _happily converted, born again_; as Christ - told Nicodemus, told him repeatedly, "Except a man be born - again, he could not enter heaven."--John iii. Yes, I have seen - them _put off_ the old man with all his deeds and put on - Christ; yes, his very _countenance_ was changed; yes, he - will not visit the Dutch gardens or saloons on the Sabbath. - Said a _converted_ Roman Catholic lady to me, the other - day: "I have _perfect peace_ now. When I belonged to the - Roman Catholic Church, I was in constant misery." - - Said a converted Catholic man, aged sixty-six years: "I never - took any comfort before." I asked him if he was ready to die. - He said, "_Yes_." I asked him how he knew. Putting his - hand on his breast, he said, "_Spirit tell me so_." So - Christ says his Spirit shall enlighten every man that cometh - into the world. - - In all my conversation with our Catholic brethren, I have never - found the first one that could say with St. Paul: "I long to be - absent from the body that I might be present with the Lord, - that I might be clothed upon with another body like unto his." - - Our Catholic brethren are taught that there is a - _purgatory_. I wonder if St. Paul had to go there first. I - have often asked our Catholic brethren where the - _penitent_ thief went to, that was crucified with Christ, - when Christ said to him, "To-day shalt thou be with me in - paradise." - - If there is a purgatory where we have to go to atone for our - sins, Christ must have suffered in vain, though he cried on the - cross, "It is finished." - - I have seen Catholics die in despair. I had one in my employ as - a sailor on the North River. He caught a severe cold; it ran - him into a quick consumption. I asked him if he would like to - have me read the Bible to him. He said, No; he said the priest - had forbidden him to read the Bible or hear it read. As he was - failing very fast, I went in again and asked him if he wished - me to read to him in the Bible. He said, No, but wished I would - go and call the priest. I did so, and after the priest went - away, I went into his room and asked him if he was happy. He - answered, No, and cried bitterly, and said, "_I am going to - hell! I am going to hell!_" and died in a few minutes. - - You next speak of young men that were studying for the - ministry; you say they study Latin, Greek, and theology. Dear - sir, what is theology? If I understand it, it is a Science of - God. How can they study theology without the Bible, the word of - God? They are not allowed the Bible, so a converted Roman - Catholic priest published to the world, at least he said that - there was not more than _one_ in twenty that ever saw a - Bible. - - You say the Catholic Church is getting very _rich_, I do - not doubt it. Oh! how I pity the poor Catholic brethren. See - how they _toil_ and _work_ to support the priest and - the nunneries, and to _build_ meeting-houses to please the - eye and charm the weak minded. And what do they get _for all - this_? Let echo answer. Look at our poor-houses. Every - winter thousands have to go to our poor-houses to be taken care - of by our Protestant churches. Here in our city many would have - perished this last winter, had not our poor-master fed them. - -{854} - - You next give us a history of a wonderful miracle that was - performed in Washington in 1824. Dear sir, do you think any - Protestant with one eye, and that half-open, can be made to - believe _such nonsense_? If _you_ wish to see - miracles wrought in the nineteenth century, just give the - _Bible_ to our Catholic brethren, then you may see greater - _miracles performed_ than you speak of; for to see a man - that is _dead in sin_ changed to a _spiritual_ man, - made _alive_ in Christ, is a miracle. - - Our Catholic brethren are taught that their church was the - _first church_. Let me inform you that there was no Roman - Catholic church on the earth for three hundred years after the - death of the apostles. Permit me to quote a few passages from - the word of God. 2 Thessalonians ii. 3, 4: "Let no man deceive - you by any means: for that day shall not come, except there - come a _falling away first_, and that man of sin be - revealed, the son of perdition; who opposeth and exalteth - himself above all that is called God, or that is worshipped; so - that he as God sitteth in the temple of God, showing himself - that he is God." Could an angel from heaven portray the - character of the pope in any plainer language? - - I Timothy iv. 1-5: "Now the Spirit speaketh expressly, that in - the _latter_ times some shall depart from the faith, - giving heed to seducing spirits, and doctrines of devils; - speaking lies in hypocrisy; having their conscience seared with - a hot iron; forbidding to marry, and commanding to abstain - _from meats_, which God hath created to be received with - thanksgiving of them which believe and know the truth. For - every creature of God is good, and nothing to be refused, if it - be received with thanksgiving: for it is sanctified by the word - of God and prayer." - - Paul speaks of visiting the churches; that is to say, little - bands of Christians. We read in the Acts of the Apostles xv. 3: - "And being brought on our way by the church;" that is to say, a - few Christians. Read, also, xvi. 5: "Likewise _greet_ the - church that is in their house," etc. - - You will now turn to Revelation xiii. 16-18: "And he causeth - all, both small and great, rich and poor, _free_ and - _bond_, to receive a mark in their right hand, or in their - foreheads." Now, every true Catholic receives the sign of the - cross in his forehead every Ash-Wednesday; every priest, when - he is ordained for the ministry, receives the mark of the cross - in his right hand. - - A converted Roman Catholic priest, going through one of the - streets in a Southern city, picked up the thirteenth chapter of - Revelation, and, reading it, he was convinced that he was one - of those that had received the mark in his right hand, and was - led by the _Spirit_ to see his error and was - _happily_ converted, and became a Baptist minister. - - Give the Bible to all our Roman Catholic priests and brethren - in America, and in less than _five_ years there would not - be a Roman Catholic church in existence. Rev. Mr. Hyacinthe, a - Roman Catholic priest, in Paris, France, has come out in - _favor_ of reading the Bible. He is now preaching in the - Notre Dame cathedral to audiences of _three thousand_. He - presses upon the people, in the most eloquent words, the study - of the Bible. - - The news from Italy is very interesting. Thousands of our - Catholic brethren are inquiring and receiving the Bible, that - they may learn the way to Christ. In less than five years there - cannot be found a Roman Catholic in all that vast kingdom, - except in Rome, where the Catholic religion has to be protected - by an army. That is a curious religion that has to be protected - by the SWORD. Shame! shame! - - That great city is soon to be destroyed, according to God's - word. See Revelation xiv. 20: "And the wine-press was trodden - without the city, and blood came out of the wine-press, even - unto the horses' bridles, by the space of a thousand and six - hundred furlongs. "You are aware, I suppose, that the pope - claims two hundred miles square around Rome. The above number - of furlongs make just that number of miles. Let Bonaparte send - ALL his armies to Rome, and he could not _prevent this - prophecy from being_ fulfilled when the time comes. - - Dear sir, you have a great deal to say about our Catholic - brethren exercising _greet_ faith. Paul says, "Faith - without works is dead." What are the works that God requires? - Let me tell you. It is not only to clothe the naked and feed - the hungry; but it is to go out into the _highways and - hedges_, and invite the sinner, the wayward--yes, the poor - drunkard--to become _reconciled_ to God; to put off the - _old_ man with all his deeds, and put on the new man which - is after Christ. Did you ever learn of one of our Catholic - brethren doing the like? - - You speak of children being _confirmed_. What does that - mean? Why, made _Christians_. Dear sir, who can - _change_ the heart of a child or a man? No one but God. - What saith the Bible, speaking of those that were Christ's? - "Which were _born_, not of _blood_, nor of the will - of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God."--John i. 13. - -{855} - - You tell us that in this easy and pleasant way our Catholic - brethren join the church. Dear sir, does joining a church make - a man Christ-like? Christ says: "If ye have my spirit, ye are - mine; if ye have not my spirit, ye are none of mine."--Romans - viii. 9. Read the whole chapter; it contains the whole plan of - salvation. - - Our Catholic brethren are taught that the Virgin Mary was - _born_ immaculate! What blasphemy! And also that the - church is _infallible_! When Christ asked Peter and the - disciples, "Whom say ye that I am?" Peter answered and said, - "Thou art the Christ, the Son of the living God." Upon this - acknowledgment or confession of Peter, that Christ was the son - of the living God, Christ said, "I will _build my - church_"--not upon Peter, as the pope claims. - - You say our Catholic brethren are not ashamed to be found - praying. Please turn to the sixth chapter of Matthew, and read - the sixth verse, which is as follows: "But thou, when thou - prayest, enter into thy closet, and when thou hast shut thy - door, pray to thy Father which is in _secret_; and thy - Father which seeth in secret shall reward thee openly." - - You say the superintendent of the Catholic Sabbath-school you - visited told you that he had visited many of the Protestant - Sabbath-schools and had copied after them. I wonder where he - found a Protestant Sabbath-school _without the Bible_! - - You say that the Catholics expect to rule in this country, and - that all Protestant children will be in their Sabbath-schools. - Let me say, "Let God be true, but every man a liar."--Romans - iii. 4. St. Paul has prophesied that the time shall soon come - when the Sword of the Spirit SHALL destroy the _Man of - Sin_. - - There are thousands of our Catholic brethren in America that - are sick of the Catholic religion, and will soon leave it. When - I was engaged in teaching a Sabbath-school of Catholic - children, a father and mother called on me and wanted to put - their children in my school. I said, "Your priest will not - allow you to do so." They said they did not care anything about - their priest; they had been brought up in _ignorance_; - they did not want their children brought up so. - - You cannot tell us of a Sabbath-school in all Italy, or in any - other country where the Roman Catholics rule, except those that - have been established by Protestants. - - You tell us about Roman Catholic benevolent societies. Where, - oh! where is there an asylum for the blind and deaf and dumb, - that they may learn to read the word of God, and get a - knowledge of our Saviour Christ Jesus, and learn the way to - heaven? You cannot show one in any Catholic country. - - Permit me to give you another graphic picture from the Bible, - giving a picture of the priests' dresses. Please turn to - Revelation xvii. 4, 5; "And the woman was arrayed in purple and - scarlet color, and decked with gold and precious stones and - pearls, having a _golden_ cup in her hand," etc. - - Now, all this I have seen in the great cathedral in Montreal. I - have seen our Catholic priests and brethren _bowing down_ - to graven images for several minutes. - - Mr. J. G. Parton, dear sir, I sincerely pray that you will, - after reading this communication, repent, (not do penance,) and - turn to the Lord, and not be under the necessity of calling - upon the rocks and mountains to fall on you and hide you from - the face of the Lamb. (Revelation vi. 16.) Do read, also, verse - 17: "For the great day of his _wrath_ is come; and who - shall be able to stand?" Do read this communication carefully, - and pray that it may be blessed to your salvation. - - No more at present, and I remain your friend in Christ, - Charles W. Gilbert. - ---------- - -{856} - - New Publications. - - The Vickers and Purcell Controversy. - Respectfully presented to all the lovers of truth. - By John B. Purcell, Archbishop of Cincinnati, - Printed for the benefit of Mt. St. Mary's - Seminary of the West. Benziger Brothers, - Printers to the Holy Apostolic See, - Cincinnati and New York. 1868. - -The gentleman calling himself the Rev. Thomas Vickers, Minister -of the First Congregational Society of Cincinnati, is a living -contradiction in terms. According to the statement in the volume -before us, he believes in no personal God, declares "the Christ" -to be "a theological fiction," and the Bible "a crutch." What -there is "reverend" about Mr. Vickers, what sense there is in his -claiming the title of minister, or what appropriateness in his -professing to belong to a Congregational Society, we are at a -loss to divine. What greater absurdity of nomenclature can there -be, than calling a pantheistic lecturer against Christianity and -Theism by the name of a Congregational minister? Of what use is a -church, or a minister, on his principles, or, rather, denial of -principles? Nevertheless, in this very absurd and unnecessary -character of minister, Mr. Vickers appeared at the laying of the -corner-stone of a new temple of German infidelity, denominated, -with a ludicrous disregard of common sense, St. John's Church, -and made a speech, which occasioned the controversy contained in -the little volume under notice. In this speech, Mr. Vickers -welcomed and blessed the undertaking of the society of German -infidels calling themselves St. John's Church, in the name of the -Anglo-American portion of the population of Cincinnati. At the -same time, he gave utterance to the most contemptuous scorn of -everything which the professedly Christian part of that -population holds as sacred and divine in religion. This was, to -say the least of it, a piece of cool impertinence on the part of -the young gentleman in question. Mr. Vickers, we believe, passed -a few years in Germany, studying what he calls "science;" and he -appears to have returned with a strong impression on his own mind -that he is destined to enlighten the benighted believers in the -Christian revelation in Cincinnati with the rays of this German -luminary. He is not the first to engage in this experiment. It -has been tried before, and we recommend to the attention of the -illuminati of Cincinnati the following description of its result, -from the pen of Dr. Hedge, of Harvard University. It is extracted -from an article in the _Christian Examiner:_ - - "Some thirty years ago, a club was formed of young men, mostly - preachers of the Unitarian connection, with a sprinkling of - elect ladies--all fired with the hope of a new era in - philosophy and religion, which seemed to them about to dawn - upon the world. There was something in the air--a boding of - some great revolution--some new avatar of the Spirit, at whose - birth these expectants were called to assist - - 'Of old things, all are over old: - Of old things, none are good enough: - We'll show that we can help to frame - A world of other stuff.' - - "For myself, though I hugely enjoyed the sessions, and shared - many of the ideas which ruled the conclave, and the ferment - they engendered, I had no belief in ecclesiastical revolutions - to be accomplished with set purpose; and I seemed to discern a - power and meaning in the old, which the more impassioned would - not allow. I had even then made up my mind, that the method of - revolution in theology, is not discussion, but development. My - historical conscience, then as since, balanced my neology, and - kept me ecclesiastically conservative, though intellectually - radical. There haunted me that verse in Goethe's bright song, - 'The General Confession,' as applicable to ecclesiastical - incendiarism as it is to political: - - 'Came a man would fain renew me, - Made a botch and missed his shot. - Shoulder shrugging, prospects gloomy: - He was called a patriot. - - 'And I cursed the senseless drizzle, - Kept my proper goal in view: - Blockhead! when it burns, let sizzle; - When all's burned, then build anew.' - - Others judged differently; they saw in every case of dissent, - and in every new dissentient, the harbinger of the New - Jerusalem. 'The present church rattles ominously,' they said; - 'it must vanish presently, and we shall have a real one.' There - have been some vanishings since then. -{857} - Ah me! how much has vanished! Of that goodly company, what - heroes and heroines have vanished from the earth! Thrones have - toppled, dynasties have crumbled, institutions that seemed - fast-rooted in the everlasting hills have withered away. But - the church that was present then, and was judged moribund by - transcendental zeal, and rattled so ominously in transcendental - ears, is present still. - - "It was finally resolved to start a journal that should - represent the ideas which had mainly influenced the association - already tending to dissolution. How to procure the requisite - funds was a question of some difficulty, seeing how hardly - philosophic and commercial speculation conspire. An appeal was - made. Would Mammon have the goodness to aid an enterprise whose - spirit rebuked his methods and imperilled his assets? The - prudent God disclaimed the imputed verdure; and the organ of - American Transcendentalism, with no pecuniary basis, committed - to the chance and gratuitous efforts and editing of friends, if - intellectually and spiritually prosperous, had no statistical - success. It struggled, through four years, with all the - difficulties of eleemosynary journalism; and then, - significantly enough, with a word concerning the 'Millennial - Church,' sighed its last breath, and gave up the ghost. I prize - the four volumes among the choicest treasures of my library. - They contain some of Emerson's, of Theodore Parker's, of - Margaret Fuller's, of Thoreau's best things; not to speak of - writers less absolute and less famous. - - "Meanwhile the association, if so it could be termed, had - gradually dissolved. Some of the members turned papists--I - should say, sought refuge in the bosom of the Catholic Church. - A few of the preachers pursued their calling, and perhaps have - contributed somewhat to liberalize and enlarge the theology of - their day. Some have slipped their moorings on this bank and - shoal of time. One sank beneath the wave, whose queenly soul - had no peer among the women of this land. Of one - - 'A strange and distant mould - Wraps the mortal relics cold.' - - Finally, a fragment of this strangely compounded body lodged in - a neighboring town, and became the nucleus of an agricultural - enterprise in which the harvest truly was _not_ plenteous, - and the competent laborers few; and of which, the root being - rottenness, the blossoms soon went up as dust." - -Mr. Vickers may thank the Archbishop of Cincinnati for having -given his very boyish lucubrations a little momentary notoriety, -which they never could have acquired by their own merit. They are -crude, ill-mannered, replete with commonplace, effete, and -senseless vituperations of all that is venerable in Catholicity -and Christianity, and betray an ignorance of the subjects treated -of which makes them unworthy of any serious attention. The point -which the discussion chiefly turns upon is "freedom of thought." -If Mr. Vickers is a disciple of the German pantheistic school, as -we suppose him to be, he is not in a condition to maintain that -there is any such thing as thought or freedom. We intend to give -abundant proof of this assertion, in a series of articles, to be -published in our Magazine, on Pantheism, in which we shall show, -to the satisfaction of any person capable of metaphysical -reasoning, that pantheism destroys the possibility of thought, in -the true sense of the word, as the intellection of real, -objective truth. Pantheism destroys, also, all possibility of -freedom by reducing all phenomena to a fatal, invincible -necessity. A pantheist is bound to accept all the persecutions of -the middle ages, all the definitions of the church, and the -encyclical of the pope, as manifestations of God. Our godlike -friends are too much like the wife of the Connecticut corporal, -who replied to the query of her innocent offspring, "O ma! are we -all corporals now?" with the haughty rejoinder, "No, indeed! only -_your pa and I_." Mr. Vickers and the members of the -free-thinking _coterie_ are not the only participators in -the universal deity. If Mr. Vickers's brilliant exposition of the -doctrine of the immaculate conception was a divine inspiration, -Archbishop Purcell was equally moved by divine inspiration to the -paternal castigation which he administers to his young and -somewhat forward fellow-celestial. In fact, Mr. Vickers, the -archbishop, the book containing their controversy, _The -Catholic World_, ourselves, our readers, St. Thomas, -Torquemada, Luther, Heidelberg University, and the Jesuits, are -all one thing, or one nothing; a _Seyn_, or a _Werden_, -or a _Nichtseyn_; all bubbles on the fathomless ocean of -infinite--nonsense. -{858} -It is a wonder that Mr. Vickers lays so much to heart, and makes -such a serious business out of that which has no reality. A -nephew of the great German philosopher, Hegel, who was also a -favorite pupil of Feuerbach, and who is now a devout Catholic, -told us, some time ago, that he asked Feuerbach why philosophy -was making no progress, but seemed to be at a stand-still. The -latter replied, that they had already proved by philosophy the -nothingness of everything, and it was, therefore, useless to push -philosophy any further, adding, that it was time to go back to -common sense. Such is the end of that lawless, intellectual -activity which Mr. Vickers calls "free thought." It is like a -head of steam that bursts its boiler, and is then dispersed in -the circumambient atmosphere. - ------- - - Memoirs and Letters of Jennie C. White--Del Bal. - By her mother, Rhoda E. White, - 1 vol. royal 8vo, pp. 363. Boston: Patrick Donahoe. 1868. - -We must presage our notice of this interesting book, by saying we -have a dislike to memoirs written by fond and partial friends. -Lives of the saints we love to read, but our digestion was early -impaired by the memoirs of good children (who all died young) -with which we were fed for Sunday food, and we have latterly been -in the bad habit of turning away from a book labelled, _Memoirs -of_, etc. - -However, we read Jennie's life with interest; and it is a -beautiful story, giving to the reader a delightful insight into a -truly Catholic family, where the breath of piety permeates the -daily walk of every member, mingling with and heightening the -light-hearted pleasures peculiar to the seasons of childhood and -youth. The tale of her courtship and marriage is told with a -sweet and winning grace, which charms us by its naturalness. -Quite unlike the prevailing spirit and sentiment of "Young -America" is the history of the prompt obedience to the mandate of -parental authority, in giving up their engagement. The accepted -lover, a resident of Santiago, New Granada, had promised his aged -father not to forsake his own country, and Jennie's father could -not give his consent to the taking of his first-born to that -far-off foreign land. After a struggle, they parted with aching -hearts, released from their engagement; but the influence of the -true woman in the mother reunited that broken bond. - -Contrary to the fate of many American girls who go to foreign -homes, Jennie's marriage was an exceedingly happy one. The secret -is very plain--they were both earnest Catholics. Oneness in -faith, and earnest-heartedness in that faith, are the best -securities for happiness in married life. The sight of this happy -young creature, leaving so fond a circle of friends, and such a -home as Jennie left behind in New York, to go to a comparatively -unknown land--a country distracted by revolutions, with churches -closed and priests exiled--gives us a glowing picture of the -self-sacrificing spirit of true love. Her journeys by land and by -sea, before she reached her destination, were perilous indeed; -and we could not but ask, Yankee-like, why such a refined and -cultivated and intelligent people as those among whom her lot was -cast should never have provided some more comfortable way of -reaching their country. She was the first American lady there, -and attracted much attention and admiration by her brave, active -spirit, as well as by her large Catholic heart. Her letters to -her home friends are lovely from their childlike simplicity and -truthfulness; giving us glimpses of many homesick heartaches, -even when she was decking herself for the dance. Sometimes there -appears a little excess in her efforts to be gay, when she -writes, "I danced every piece but one till five in the morning." -Mrs. Del Bal went to New Granada at a time when the so-called -"Liberals," under Mosquera, were in the ascendant, proclaiming a -pretended religious liberty, of which some of the first acts were -the disbanding of all religious communities, turning the sisters -upon the world, shutting up the churches, banishing the priests, -unless they took an oath whereby they would cease to be -Catholics; in fact, Mosquera made himself pope. Professing to -establish a government in which there should be no connection -between church and state, the government framed this article for -the twenty-third of their Constitution: - -{859} - -"In order to sustain the national sovereignty and to maintain -public peace and security, the national government, and in some -cases the state government, shall exercise the right of supreme -inspection over all religious worships, as the law shall -determine." - -This is a law of liberty very like those the English Catholics -enjoyed under Queen Elizabeth. - -Mrs. Del Bal exerted herself to give the press at the North the -true state of the case with regard to this matter, since the -public papers have loudly lauded Mosquera and his government. How -far she succeeded in influencing minds that swallow eagerly -anything called "liberal," we are not told. Our friend Jennie was -loyal to her heart's core, and never ceased to call herself and -her husband American citizens; and her thorough celebration of -the "glorious Fourth" was a complete success. American thrift and -industry carried her through what would have been impossible to a -New Granadian. - -But it is Jennie's almost superhuman efforts to revive the faith -in the land of her adoption which excite our wonder and -admiration, even more than the tender breathings of her woman's -heart, separated for ever from the earliest loved. She had -everything to struggle against in her work; "deplorable ignorance -among the lower classes, and the falling away from faith and duty -in the educated;" and this in a land once hallowed by the daily -sacrifice. Well might she call the country "God forsaken," when -those who should have cared for the sheep became themselves -grievous wolves devouring God's heritage. The secret of the -country's desolation we may read in this sentence: - - "It is a well-known fact to Protestant travellers and a wound - in the heart of the Catholic world, that the Catholic - priesthood in this part of the world and in the West India - Islands, scandalize the faithful. Why are they permitted to - remain in the church? is asked often by Protestant and - Catholic. Because they are sustained by a government which will - not acknowledge papal authority; and if the archbishop were to - remove them to-morrow, if need be, they would be reinstated by - the bayonet. Hence these scandals." - -But we turn from this sad picture to our young friend. Working -with all the ardor of a soul given to God, filled with the love -of Christ, her prayers and labors brought forth abundant and -immediate fruits; but not till that day when the Great Master -shall make up his jewels will it be known how many were brought -back to faith and duty by her efforts. The missionary spirit -pervaded all her life, and we may believe that love for souls, in -part, led her to give her consent to so sad and final a parting -from her early home; for she laid her plans for these poor, -neglected people before she left her father's roof. She found -some pious, devoted women in Santiago, (where are they not -found?) and she gave them work to do. Everything prospered in her -hands: Sunday-schools, altar societies, associations of the -Sacred Heart; and at last, through her instrumentality, the laws -were repealed that closed the churches, the _Te Deum_ was -sung, the sanctuary lamp was relighted, and 'la nina Jennie' was -acknowledged, by the grateful people, as a public blessing God -sent. - -It is extremely touching to mark how, amid the constant terror of -revolution, the wearing care of churches, hospitals, -Sunday-schools, altar societies, plantations, and housekeeping, -with a retinue of easy-going, lazy servants, she turns to -entertain a dear friend with tales of her beloved parents, -recalling the happy and united life at home, and then runs to -console these absent ones by telling them, in her letters, with -the artlessness of a child, that her husband must be good, since -she is so happy with him, away from all she loved before! Only -four years was she permitted to cheer the heart of her fond -husband--only four years to lead the life of a devoted missionary -in that desolate vineyard. The snapping of the chain by death -that bound that household; the departure of her noble father--we -may well believe-- coming upon a heart filled with care for the -souls about her, lying in worse than heathen darkness, hastened -her own death. - -{860} - -As we close the volume, we can not mourn for her nor for her dear -family; it is a blessed privilege to have such a friend in -heaven. - - "Life is only bright when it proceedeth - Toward a truer, deeper life above: - Human love is sweetest when it leadeth - To a more divine and perfect love." - -No, we mourn for Santiago, and pray our dear Lord to -compassionate a country so piteously torn by revolutions, and -abandoned by those who should be first to hear the cry that comes -over the land to all Catholics, "Send us priests who have an -apostolic spirit, good judgment, and tact!" - -The publisher's portion of the work is well done. It is well -printed on fine paper, and the binding is in keeping with the -rest of the book. It is, in fact, the handsomest book Mr. Donahoe -ever published, and we are glad to see so great an improvement in -his book-making. - ------- - - The Woman Blessed by all Generations; or, - Mary the Object of Veneration, Confidence, and - Imitation to all Christians. - By the Rev. Raphael Melia, D.D. - London: Longmans, Green & Co. 1868. - For sale at The Catholic Publication House, New York. - -Dr. Melia is an Italian priest, residing in London; a man of -solid learning, great zeal for the conversion of Protestants, and -possessing a competent knowledge of the English language. His -work is a comprehensive treatise on the dignity and office of the -Blessed Virgin, and the reasons for the veneration and invocation -of Mary practised in the church; to which is added a devotional -treatise on the imitation of her virtues. The author goes -thoroughly into the arguments from Scripture, tradition, reason, -theology, and antiquities. His style is lively, popular, and -somewhat diffuse, so that his learning is brought to the level of -the understanding of ordinary readers, and his arguments made -plain by ample and minute explanations. The book is also -illustrated by _fac-similes_ from ancient works of art. It -is a treasury of knowledge on the charming and delightful subject -of which it treats, and both Catholics and Protestants who wish -to gain thorough, solid information respecting the Catholic -devotion to Mary, with ease and pleasure to themselves, will find -this book to be the very one they are in need of. The author is -entitled to the thanks of all English-speaking Catholics for this -labor of love, and we trust that his excellent work may be the -means of increasing and diffusing, both in England and America, -that solid and fervent devotion to the Blessed Mother of God -which is both the poetry and an integral part of the practical -piety of our religion. - ------- - -We have just received from Messrs. Murphy & Co., Baltimore, -_The Acts and Decrees of the Second Plenary Council of -Baltimore_. _The Catholic World_, for August, contained -an elaborate article on this work, written from an advance copy -kindly furnished by Mr. Murphy. It is unnecessary to say anything -more with regard to its contents, except to reiterate what was -then said as to its external appearance. It is a handsome volume, -finely printed on good paper, and bound in various styles and in -the best manner known to the art of binding, and is a credit to -the publisher. It is for sale at the Catholic Publication House, -New York. - ------------------------------- - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Catholic World, Volume 7, by Various - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CATHOLIC WORLD, VOLUME 7 *** - -***** This file should be named 55736-8.txt or 55736-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/5/7/3/55736/ - -Produced by Don Kostuch -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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