(navigation image)
Home American Libraries | Canadian Libraries | Universal Library | Community Texts | Project Gutenberg | Children's Library | Biodiversity Heritage Library | Additional Collections
Search: Advanced Search
Anonymous User (login or join us) Upload
See other formats

Full text of "The Catholic world"

THE 




CATHOLIC WORLD. 



A 



MONTHLY MAGAZINE 



OF 




LITERATURE AND SCIENCE. 



VOL. XLIX. 
APRIL, 1889, TO SEPTEMBER, 1889, 



NEW YORK: 

THE OFFICE OF THE CATHOLIC WORLD, 

6 PARK: 

1889. 





Copyright, 1889, by 
REV. A. F. HEWIT. 



CONTENTS. 



A Gloria. M.A.Tincker, .... 173 
Apostolic College, An. Rev. J. R. S lattery, . 525 

Blessed Daughter of the People. Mary Eliza- 
beth Blake 293 

Boethius. Christopher M. O'Keeffe, . . 33 
Books and How to Use Them.^Brot/ier 

Azarias, . 447, 637 

By the Rapidan. Thomas F. Galwey, . . 744 

Can there be such a Thing as a Miracle ? Rt. 

Rev. Francis Silas Chatard, D.D., . . 366 
Catholic University and its Constitutions, The, 427 
Children of the Poor, The. Emma F. Cary, 394 
Chnstianity Indefectible. Rev. Augustine F. 

Hewit, 761 

Clue* to Ancient American Architecture. W. 

Nemos, 732 

Columbian Reading Union, The, . . . 399 
Congress of the Colored Catholics, The. A. J. 

Faust, Ph.D.) 94 

Dark Side of Civilization, The. Rev. Henry 

Hay man, D.D. t 569 

"Das Ewige Weiblich." Rev. Edw. Me- 

Sweeny, D.D. t 326 

Daughter of the King, A. Mary E. Man- 
nix, . . 474 

Deluge : Was it Universal ? The. Rev. John 

Gmeiner, 17 

Dialogue on the Saloon. Rev. Joseph V. 

Tracy, 285 

Educational Grievances of Catholics. Rev. 

Morgan M. Skeedy, . . . . . 246 
Eucalyptus Culture at Tre Fontane, The. L. 

B. Binsse, 



Mozarabic Rite, The. G. S. Lee 



772 



Extinct Reptiles and Mammals of North Amer- 
ica. William Seton, ..... 



187 



153 



Famous Irish School and its Founder. Rev. 

Wm. Ganly, 461 

Father Hecker. Rt. Rev. John J. Keane, . i 

Father Hecker, The Late. H. E. t . . . 240 

Father Hecker, The Late. A. de G., . . 685 

Forgotten Catholic, A. * Caryl Coleman, . 235 

Human Nature. Rev. Augustine F. Hewit, 43 

Letters of the Liberator, The. Rev. Edward 

B. Brady, 104 

Loveliness of Sanctity, The. M. 'L. M., 618, 779 



Marsh-Marigold, A. Katharine Tynan, 



334 



Neither Generous nor Just. Monsignor Far- 
ley, . . . ... 483 

New Manual of Prayers, The, . . . 819 

Old French Dictionary, An. B. B., . . 599 
Old-Time Town, An. Agnes Farley Millar, . 676 
Origin of Episcopacy, The. Rev, H. H. Wy- 

man, . . . . . . .61 

Paul Ringwood: An Autobiography. Har- 
old Dijon, . . 75.216,376,503,656 

"Poet" of the Wayside Inn, The Louite 

Imogen Guiney, IO 

Programme and Basis of the St. Cecilia Society. 

Rev. C. Becker, ; 348 

Religion in Spain. Manuel Perez Villamil, 144,494 
Religious Order Devoted to Publication : Why 

Not? Albert Reynaud, . . . -53* 
Reminiscences of a Fine Gentleman. Louise 

Imogen Guiney, . . . . . . 6ia 

San Domingo, A Tale of. E. W. Gilliam, 

M.D., . ... . 581, 793 

School Question, The : A Plea for Justice. 

Rev. Morgan M. Sheedy, .... 649 
Seigneur of Hearts, A. Elward Eu, . . 252 
" Should Americans Educate their Children in 

Denominational Schools?" Rt. Rev. 

John J. Keane, 808 

Study of Modern Religion, A. Rev. William 

Barry, 711 

Supernatural, The. Rev. Augustine F. 

Hewit, 200 

Talk about New Books, . 112, 265, 402, 538, 688 
Talk about William and Lucy Smith, . . 823 
Town and University of Cambridge, The. 

Charles E. Hodson, M.A. Cantab., . . 310 
Truth about the French Canadian!, The. 

Rev. John Talbot Smith, .... 433 

'Varsity Reminiscences. Charles E. Hodson, 

M.A. Cantab., 720 

Who should go to Prison ? Emma F. Gary. 68 
Will Congregational Singing Profit Faith and 

Morals? Rev. Alfred Young, . . .159 
World in a Drop of Water, The. John A. 

Moouey, . 356 



IV 



CONTENTS. 



Adsum. T. E. Cox, 

Ave Verum, 

Closed Heart, The. -Margaret H. Lawless, 
Dreams Meredith Nicholson, . 

Easter. A lice Ward Bailey, . 

Evening Thought, An. Thomas A. Daily, 

Love's Word. Rev. Alfred Young, 
Over Land. Lucy Agnes Hayes, . 



POETRY. 

Poem. Katharine Tynan, . , 59 

Rose in June, To a. Maurice Francis Egan, 347 

Sancta Catharina. Constaniina E. Brooks, . 239 

Slighted Graces. Frank Waters, . . . 152 

Soul and Sense. A . B. Ward, . . . 719 

St. Bartholomew, On. Rev. Alfred Ycung, . 375 



292 
432 
778 

525 

H3 
502 

445 

617 



Way of the Cross, The. Rev, A If red Young, 30 
What I Overheard, On, 684 



WITH READERS AND CORRESPONDENTS. 



Alfred Krupp, 413 

Archbishop of Glasgow, The, and the League 

of the Cross, . . . 841 

Columbian Reading Union, The, 130, 274, 415, 555, 

700, 835 
Congregational Singing, ^ 132 



France Religious, Political, and Social, 

Handmaiden in Chains, A, 
History of a Conversion, The, . 



833 

697 
547 



Morality and Sectarianism, .... 129 

Palestrina Myth, The, 127 

Public Morality and the School Question, . 273 

Sheridan's Memoirs, 124 

St. Anselm's Society, . . . . .412 

Story of a Conversion, 121 

Temperance Outlook, The, .... 704 

Two Victims of the Commune, .... 552 



NEW PUBLICATIONS. 



Aalesund to Tetuan : A Journey, . . . 281 

A, B, C for Catholic Children, .... 567 

Biographical Sketch of Mother Margaret Mary 

Hallahan, O.S.D., . . . .138 

Contemplations and Meditations on the Hidden 

Life of Our Lord Jesus Christ, . . . 281 

Critical Period of American History, 1783-1789, 279 

Dissertationes Qusedam Philosophical, . . 277 

Divine Comedy of Dante, 140 

Elements of Infinitesimal Calculus, . . . 566 

Epistle to the Hebiews, 567 

Essays, chiefly Literary and Ethical, . . 847 

Eucharistic Jewels, 281 

Fair Maid of Connaught, and Other Tales, 

The, 565 

French Traits, 843 

Germany's Debt to Ireland, .... 710 

Gleanings from Science, 561 

Great Commentary of Corneilius a Lapide, 
The, 



565 
426 



e, . 

Guide of the Man of Good Will in the Exercise 
of Mental Prayer, 

Harper's Educational Series of Readers,, . 

Heart of St. Gertrude, The, . . 

Henry VTIl. and the English Monasteries, 

History of Confession, The, 

History and Fate of Sacrilege, . 

Holy ivlass, The, ..... 

Inner Life of Syria, The, ..... 

Instructions and Devotions for Confirmation 

classes, ....... 282 

Intemperance and Law 



. 278 

. 426 

- 559 
. 561 
. 424 

845 
283 



Jugements qu'on Doit Appeler Synthetiques a 

Priori, Des, . . .559 

Leaves from St. John Chrysostom, . . . 141 
Lectures on the History of Preaching, .. .. 563 



Lectures on English Literature, . . 709 

Lessons from Our Lady's Life, . . 847 
Life and Writings of the Rt. Rev. John Me 

Mullen, D.D., The, 141 

Life of Raphael, The, .... 135 
Life of St. Francis Xavier, Apostle of the In 

dies, The, 420 

Life of St. Ignatius of Loyola, The, . . 283 

Life of Blessed Martin de Porres, The, . 136 
Lives of the Fathers : Sketches of Church His 

tory in Biography, ..... 708 

Longman's New Atlas, Political and Physical, 424 

Manuals of Catholic Philosophy : Logic, . . 564 
Manuals of Catholic Philosophy : (Moral Phil- 
osophy; or, Ethics and Natural Law. The 

First Principles of Knowledge), . . 137 

Memoirs of the Life of Mrs. Sara Peter, . . 135 

Memoir of the Life of Rev. Francis A. Baker, 845 



Office of Tenebrae, The, 

Old English Catholic Missions, 

Pope and Ireland, The, 

Records of the English Catholics of 1715, 
Revolution Frangaise a propos du Centennaire 
de 1789, La, ...... 



Sacred PaSsion of Jesus Christ, The, 

Sermons at Mass, 

bermon Bible, The, . . 

Seven Words of Mary, The, 

Short Instructions for Low Masses, 

Story of Patsy, The, 

Sweet Thoughts of Jesus and Mary, 



Thomae a Kempis, De Imitatione Christi, 
Unknown Country, That, ... 



562 
844 
277 
420 



566 
282 
566 



846 
564 

846 
559 



What to do in Cases of Accidents and Emer- 

gencies, ........ 847 

Words of Jesus Christ during His Passion, The, 135 
Works of St. John of the Cross, The, _ . 



THE 



CATHOLIC WORLD. 



MONTHLY MAGAZINE 



OF 



GENERAL LITERATURE AND SCIENCE. 



VOL. XLIX. No. 289. 
, 1889. 



Numbers of THE CATHOLIC WORLD can be had on 
application at the office. Also, bound sets of forty-eight volumes. 

^^The Editor cannot undertake to return rejected articles unless 
stamps are enclosed to prepay postage. Letter -postage is required on re- 
turned MSS. 

&jj~All communications intended for THE CATHOLIC WORLD 
should be addressed to the Editor, No. 6 Park Place, New York. 



NEW YORK : 
THE OFFICE OF THE CATHOLIC WORLD, 

(P. O. Box 1968,) JOHN J. FARRELL, BUSINESS MANAGER, No. 6 PARK PLACE. 
LONDON : .BURNS & OATES, 28 ORCHARD STREET, W. 

Entered at the Post-Office as Second Class Matter. 
DEALERS SUPPLIED BY THE AMERICAN NEWS COMPANY. 

N.B. The postage on "THE CATHOLIC WORLD" to Great Britain and Ireland, France, Belgium, Italy, and Ger- 
many is 5 cents. 



Harper's Readers. 



HARPER'S FIRST READER, - 
HARPER'S SECOND READER, - 
HARPER'S THIRD READER, - 
HARPER'S FOURTH READER, - 
HARPER'S FIFTH READER, - 



Pages. Introduction Price. List Price. 

144 20 cents. 24 cents. 

- 208 . 30 " 36 " 
316 40 " 48 " 

- 420 50 " 60 " 
504 (In Press.) 



Although published less than six months ago, Harper's Read- 
ers have already been adopted and are now in satisfactory use 

in the schools Ot MORE THAN FIVE HUNDRED CITIES AND TOWNS, 

including, among others, 



NEW YORK CITY, 
PHILADELPHIA, PA., 
BROOKLYN, N. 1 ., 
JERSEY CITY, N. J., 
ITHACA, N. Y., 



PATERSON, N. J., 
PLATTSMOUTH, NEB., 
JACKSON, MICH., 
EVANSVILLE, IVD., 
FALL RIYER, MASS., etc. 

1 * .1 * 1 



They have also been officially adopted by the board of edu- 
cation of the STATE OF SOUTH CAROLINA, and by the officers 
and school-boards of hundreds of counties and country districts 
in all parts of the Union. Teachers and the press are unanimous 
in their commendation of these books. 



What the BOSTON PILOT" says of them: : 

" HARPER'S EDUCATIONAL SERIES." The First, Second, Third, and Fourth 
Readers in this series come handsomely bound in linen covers, well printed, and excel- 
lently illustrated. The subject-matter has been selected with good judgment and 
obvious pains to avoid anything which might give offence to the sensibilities of class or 
creed. We might, if disposed to be critical, object to Mr. Charles Carleton Coffin's 
calling our Irish St. Brandan "a priest of Scotland," to another writer's omitting Irom 
the sketch of Attila the most dramatic feature in his career, his meeting with the Pope, 
who turned him back from the very gates of Rome, or to the uncomplimentary or over- 
realistic picture of child-life in Italy ; but these are trifling blemishes, and more than 
atoned for by the prevailing air of impartiality and the total absence of the sectarian 
spirit which disfigures so many text-books. No Catholic will find anything in these 
Readers to wound his feelings, and all good Americans, of whatever faith, will approve 
heartily of the patriotic selections, numerous and admirably chosen from the best 
American writers. The Boston Tea Party, by George Bancroft ; Captain John Smith 
and George Washington, by John Esten Cooke ; the Song of Marion's Men, by Bryant ; 
Lincoln's Address at Gettysburg, and other themes of patriotism form such reading for 
American children as could not easily be bettered (Feb. 23, 1889). 



Correspondence with reference to the introduction and use of 
these Readers is respectfully solicited. 

HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS, 

FRANKLIN SQUARE, NEW YORK. 



THE 



CATHOLIC WORLD. 



VOL. XLIX. APRIL, 1889. No. 289. 



FATHER HECKER. 

MANY years ago, Dr. Brownson began his review of one of 
Father Hecker's books by saying that its author was a man in 
whose company one could not spend half an hour without com- 
ing away wiser and better for the contact. Such a sentence, 
from such a judge of men, best tells who he was whose depar- 
ture from among us is deplored by thousands of admiring and 
grateful hearts. 

Father Hecker was meant to be a " vessel of election ' for 
the good of his generation ; and God fitted him for his vocation, 
by eminent gifts not only of grace but also of nature, made him 
to stand among his fellow-men an intellectual and moral giant. 
Deprived of his spiritual inheritance by the fault or the misfor- 
tune of his ancestors, his soul was homesick for it from his child- 
hood, and to its recovery he bent his energies from youth. 
Never did poor exile from the truth start in search of God with, 
cleaner heart; and few have found him more abundantly. 
Doomed to struggle up to the light from depths of darkness, and 
destined to be a strong help to multitudes of others in their 
escape, he was gifted with the mind of a philosopher and the 
honest courage of a hero. " Is it not a glorious thing," he ex- 
claimed one day towards the end of his life, " to live for the best?" 
That was his inspiration and his aim from the beginning. 
Lower ends had no attraction for him, and from whatever could 
tarnish either the purity of his heart, or the rectitude of his 
character, or "the chastity of his intellect," as he beautifully ex- 
pressed it, he shrank with instinctive loathing. 

No wonder that such a nature abhorred the Calvinistic doc- 
trine of total depravity, which he was taught in childhood. His 
soul, on the contrary, gloried in the thought of the image and- 

Copyright. RBV. A. F. HEWIT. it 



2 FATHER HECKER. [Apr., 

likeness of God in which it had been created, and to whose per- 
manence, in spite of sin and weakness, his every instinct and 
.craving bore testimony. And no wonder that such an intellect 
spurned the objective scepticism early presented to it by the 
reading of Kant. He would have despised both himself and his 
Creator, if he could have accepted such a system of self-stultifi- 
cation. Had he believed in the depravity of his nature and the 
impotency of his intellect, he could not consistently have taken a 
single step in quest of the true and the good. But to that quest 
he was impelled irresistibly, and on it he started with an hum- 
ble but honest trust in his nature and in his intellect as his only 
visible guiding star, full confident that through them the Infinite 
Good and the Infinite Truth he sought would lead him aright. 

The first form under which union with God presented itself 
to him was the German pantheism of his day. It had a special 
attraction for him in that it was a reaction against the scepticism 
of Kant, which his own intellect was then casting off. But he 
irecognized ere long that it was a leap to the opposite extreme, 
.and that the extremes met. The idea of union with the Infinite 
.stirred his being to its very depths, but the assertion of identity 
with the Infinite was an insult to the logic of his intellect. 
Xhat his soul's hunger and thirst for God should be met with the 
assurance that it was itself God, sounded like a horrid, mocking 
jest, and he turned from it with disappointment and indignation. 
The next response to his soul's cravings was the theory of 
" divine immanence" of the Emersonian school. It sounded to 
him like sweet reasonableness, and so attracted him. For a time 
it seemed as if in the Transcendentalism of New England he 
would find rest to his spirit. But his piercing intellect soon 
went to its shallow depths and discovered its insufficiency. The 
' divine immanence ' was, he saw, but another name for the 
divine omnipresence, which all things animate and inanimate 
share equally with man; far different from that relationship with 
the Infinite for which his heart and soul yearned with mighty 
longings. The whole system was left without fount .tion ; the 
poetry with which it was enveloped sickened his man. 'ntellect, 
its notions of social reform proved to be impractical s<. ^mental- 
ism. Another illusion had vanished and left him in th irk. 

But still in the dark that unseen hand was drawing > n, that 
low, strong voice whispering that there was light so where, 
that irresistible impulse urging him to the search. IP , e hour 
of discouragement conscience thundered out, and wor Jt per- 
mit him .to be a coward. He cried aloud for guid and it 



.] FATHER HECKER. 3 

came. He looked, and found the truth near at hand. As if 
scales had fallen from his eyes, he recognized in Christianity 
all that philosophy had promised him in vain. The Incarna- 
tion, linking the Infinite and the finite in a union which, 
while maintaining their distinction, yet makes them one; the 
incorporation into that wondrous union offered to all, and 
the adoption, the sonship, bestowed through it; the indwell- 
ing of the Holy Spirit of Love in the faithful soul ; the ladder of 
perfection thus placed from earth to the bosom of God here 
he saw all that his soul had ever dreamed of, and he leaped for- 
ward to it with all the eagerness of his strong nature. 

But again he seemed met by the fate of Tantalus. Where 
and how was Christianity to be got at? The theory was clear 
enough, was just what he wanted; but the living reality, the em- 
bodiment that would bring it practically within his reach, where 
was this to be found ? It took him not long to recognize that 
Christianity and the Christian Church were correlative ideas 
and correlative facts ; that the Christian Church meant no mere 
set of convictions or of principles, no mere aggregation of be- 
lievers; that the church must be the living organism through 
which incorporation into the Incarnation is reached, and 
through which its vital influences are received. Where, then, 
was that church? The> light of his reason and all the noble in- 
stincts of his nature had driven him out of the Calvinism of his 
childhood and out of the body professing it; which, then, among 
the many various forms of Christianity around him was he to 
take in its place ? One only conviction had he for his guide in 
this momentous decision, and that was the assurance impressed 
on him from his earliest years that, whatever might be thought 
of other creeds, the Catholic Church was simply out of the ques- 
tion. From one to another then he went, in weary, heart-sick 
search for the one in whose features he would recognize the 
Spouse of Christ. In one after another he failed to find what 
logic and history demanded as evidence of their claim. Finally, 
there rerv^ined but one thing more to do, a desperate last resort 
indeed, , it still the only thing remaining and that was, after 
having >, ard all that others had to say about that wretched old 
churc 1 " 3 hear what she had to say for herself. He hopelessly 
procu a catechism of the Council of Trent, and read it. 
*' Ima; e my amazement," I once heard him say, "at finding 
here j y what my soul had been hungering for all these years ! 
And was my indignation at finding how I had been hood- 

wink* m my childhood, that I vowed I would devote my 

v LIX. i 



4 FATHER BECKER. [Apr., 

life to tearing the bandage from the eyes of my fellow-country- 



men. 1 



" How did I feel/' said he one day, repeating the question 
addressed to him " how did I feel when I found I had to become 
a Catholic? Why, I said to myself: Look here, Hecker, if any 
one says he is an older Catholic than you, just knock him down. 
Why, I had been a Catholic in heart all my life, and didn't know 
it. How did I feel when I entered the church ? I said to my- 
self : If Heaven can be sweeter than this, I should like to know 
it." Oh, the peace, the joy, of a great soul that has found union 
with God at last ! 

True to his life-long instinct and guidance, he aimed still at 
"the best." Before him stretched the pathway not only of 
Christian goodness, but of Christian perfection, with all the 
means and helps for its attainment. Here was his goal, and on 
towards it, guided by wise and holy counsel, he eagerly pressed 
as novice, religious, priest. In the sacred office of the priest- 
hood he found not only the closest approach to God, but also the 
highest means for satisfying the kindred yearning that had ever 
been struggling in his heart for greatest usefulness to his fellow- 
men. Now, in his holy ministry, he was not only a potent inter- 
cessor for them at the throne of Divine mercy, but an authorized 
herald to them of the Redeemer's glad tidings, a consecrated 
dispenser to them of the treasures of his Mediatorship. Never 
did a soul that had found grace and truth crave more ardently 
to share these blessings with all his kind, and never did laborer 
in the harvest-field strive more earnestly for that end than he 
did during the forty years of his priesthood. 

From the vantage-ground of the holy ministry he beheld in a 
new light the havoc wrought in the world by Protestantism. 
He had tasted its bitter fruits in his own life-experience. He 
had deplored the millions severed from the unity of the fold, 
doomed to grope towards eternity as best they could with such 
remnants of grace and truth as they might still retain, and he 
had vowed his life to the effort to lead them back. He had la- 
mented the misrepresentation of the truth, the caricaturing of 
facts, the dissemination of error and of prejudice, that were be- 
guiling the multitudes of his former associates, and he had con- 
secrated all his energies to the task of undeceiving them. But 
now that he stood a priest of the Most High God, an authorized 
dispenser of the grace and truth of the Divine Mediator, an 
agent of holy church's work of building up immortal souls into 
the Body of Christ, the thought of that ministry of love and ben- 



1889.] FATHER HECKER. 5 

ediction disturbed and encroached upon by this long strife of 
controversy filled his heart with ineffable sorrow. The spectacle 
of the Spouse of Christ forced into three centuries of self-de- 
fence, by sectarianism assailing her every doctrine, decrying her 
divine authority and organization itself, saddened his very soul. 
In that long combat, he gratefully adored the ever-protecting 
providence of God; he gloried in every manifestation of the 
church's unfailing strength and unerring grasp on divine truth; 
and among his favorite heroes the great leader in the strife, St. 
Ignatius, held a foremost place. But none the less did he grieve 
that such strife should have been forced into the life of the gen- 
tle Spouse of Christ by the children of error, and it humiliated 
him to reflect that the German and Anglo-Saxon races, his kin- 
dred by blood, should have been the ones to originate the 
wretched struggle and to maintain it so long. He sighed for 
the day when none of her God-given energies would need to be 
spent in the thankless task of refuting the errors and repelling 
the assaults of her own misguided children, but could be wholly 
given to her glorious work of enlightening and blessing the 
world, of lifting mankind up to God. To hasten that consum- 
mation was his constant study, his unremitting endeavor. 

Everywhere around him he could see that the providence of 
God and the logic of events were working out the end of contro- 
versial strife. Facts patent to the eyes of all indicated the dis- 
solution of dogmatic Protestantism. But the disintegration of 
Protestantism was not an unmixed good. Souls in multitudes 
were breaking from the false moorings of sectarianism ; but most 
of them, alas ! not to return to the haven of religious unity, but 
to drift out towards rationalism, or ritualism, or humanitarianism, 
or indifferentism, as the varying winds and currents of thought, 
or sentiment, or mere weariness of the whole question might 
impel them. He had himself experienced all these dangers, but 
had overcome them ; no one, therefore, could feel more keenly 
than he for those who ran such risks, no one could warn and ad- 
vise and guide them more understandingly and surely. Who 
does not know what a beacon-light and what a saving power he 
was to countless needy souls ? Here was the occupation that 
suited him exactly. It was not controversy, which he detested; 
it was demonstration, in which he took delight. Earnest souls, 
that had got out of the jungle of disputations about texts, that 
were looking, perhaps despairingly, for the way to God, for 
what their intellect, their heart, their whole nature was, perhaps 
in spite of them, craving for these turned as it were instinctively 



6 FATHER HECKER. [Apr., 

to Father Hecker ; and who among them all was ever disap- 
pointed? With almost prophetic intuition, he could read each 
one's mistake and correct it, discern each one's lack or need and 
supply it. Whatever there remained of truth in each one's mind, 
he used as a starting-point whence to lead up to where alone the 
fulness of the truth can be found ; whatever he discovered of 
good and of aspiration or of conscious need and remorseful re- 
gret in each, served him as premises for his argument, as a ful- 
crum for his helpful power. This was the secret of his wonder- 
ful influence, that he never disparaged any particle of truth and 
goodness, wheresoever he might find it, but welcomed and util- 
,ized it ; that he cared not to spend time in the mere, demolition 
of errors, but, knowing that in nearly every error there is some 
ztruth, would seize on this, and by it draw the intellect, through 
force of logic, out of the morass of error, onto the firm rock of 
.truth, whole, Catholic, unchanging. How many a once agonizing 
soul, after having been perhaps exasperated and discouraged by 
some different treatment, is this day blessing Father Hecker for 
ithe judicious, the sensible, the charitable and Christ-like course 
by which he led them into the bosom of the Church of God ! 
And how many have reason to thank him for the help they found 
'in those two books in which he has embodied the main principles 
of this admirable synthetic method of his, the Aspirations of Na- 
ture and the Questions of the Soul. 

It is easy to guess which were his own favorite books. He 
read very extensively, for whatever concerned humanity interest- 
ed him ; but all the instincts of his nature turned him toward the 
great fountains of truth about God and about man. The Holy 
Bible, St. Thomas, and St. John of the Cross were his three 
favorites, his inseparable companions. The inspired text gave 
him daily spiritual food ; a well-thumbed compendium of St. 
Thomas was always on his desk and went with him wherever he 
travelled, serving for ready answers to great questions and as an 
lindex of reference to the Summa and the other works of the An- 
.gelic Doctor; and one of his sweetest and most frequent joys was 
to go with the great master of the spiritual life through all the 
wondrous regions of the soul and up to the mountain-tops of its 
highest union with the God of love. May some one be yet in- 
spired to do for Father Hecker what Father Chocarne has done 
for Lacordairel His inner life, so little known, perhaps so little 
imagined, has many a wonderful and beautiful lesson that the 
world stands in need of. The peeps into it that were my privi- 
lege will be blessings to me as long as 1 live. 



.] FATHER HECKER. 7 

As a matter of course, a most intense sympathy existed be- 
tween Father Hecker and the character of the American people. 
Here, if anywhere in the world, human nature has fair play, and, 
while it manifests abundantly its weaknesses and its needs and its 
dangers, makes nevertheless a presentation of man which humani- 
ty need not be ashamed of, which is no disgrace to the Creator, 
and which experience with mankind elsewhere renders more and 
more lovable. He had seen much of the world, he had studied 
humanity profoundly, and he loved America and her people and 
her institutions with a devotion that was one of the most striking 
features of his character. His hope for America, his trust in her 
future, his confidence in her providential mission among the na- 
tions and peoples of the earth, were to him axiomatic convictions 
and springs of joyous energy. When he considered the provi- 
dence of God leading up, through all history and through all the 
vicissitudes of the nations, to this wonderful new departure of 
human society, and pointing out its pathway and its work, his 
whole being seemed to thrill with an enthusiasm that was elec- 
trical in its effect upon his hearers. Who that has had the fortune 
to behold it can ever forget the picture presented by that colossal 
man, that worthy anointed of the Lord, standing thus as if on a 
hill-top, of prophetic vision, seeing what to minds of smaller sta- 
ture and lower standing-ground was still invisible, proclaiming 
the great things that God was surely to work in this land of 
benediction and the blessings which from it would flow back 
upon the old world, forcing conviction on unbiased minds by the 
obvious moral of past and contemporaneous history, and pouring 
enthusiasm into generous hearts by his picture of the great 
things that might be done for helping on the kingdom of the 
Lord. 

Some there were, doubtless, who thought him a visionary 
dreamer, a dangerous theorizer. There are always whelps to 
bark at every great man's heels. There are always petty minds 
to look with pity, or with suspicion, upon what transcends the 
measure of their small conservatism. There are always little 
embodiments of precautionary prudence and safe suspiciousness, 
ever eager to whisper or to squeak their wee note of alarm and 
to cry " Down brakes !" And it is well, mayhap, that there are 
such. Their vocation is a pitiable one, but it has its use. Father 
Hecker was not the man to let such things scare him into silence 
or inaction ; but neither was he the man to despise any word of 
caution or of counsel, no matter whence it might come. Hence, 
while his course was ever onward, it was ever careful. And no 



8 FATHER HECKER. [Apr., 

man in all the world had more scrupulous regard for every word 
that emanated from sources of authority. He knew well that 
true progress is no instantaneous generation, but a solid growth 
from the deep-set roots of the past. He knew well that the liber- 
ty of the children of God essentially supposes order and law and 
authority. He knew well that the progress of the kingdom of 
God in America and in all the future must be in the lines of the 
org-anization and the spirit given by our Lord for all genera- 
tions. There was in him nothing of the revolutionary or the 
radical, nothing rash and hasty. On the contrary, his most fre- 
quent motto was : " Vamtm est vobis ante lucent surgere.'' Slowly 
but surely the light which he saw before others is reaching the 
eyes of all, and to-day the most conservative elements in the old 
world are heard saying things which sounded visionary or ven- 
turesome from the lips of Father Hecker aquarter of a century ago. 
The fondest dream of Father Hecker's soul was a new and 
abundant outpouring of the Holy Spirit of grace and truth on 
our age and our country, for the sanctification of the new epoch 
in the history of the church and of the world, which all can see 
unfolding. His eyes were ever turned yearningly, prayerfully, 
hopefully, to the holy mountains whence help was to come to 
the world, threatened with chaos by the disintegrating influences 
of expiring Protestantism and growing scepticism. Well he 
knew that the Holy Spirit would not abandon the world, that 
the help would surely come, the new breathing that from chaos 
would call forth new life and order. And what the character 
of that new breathing would be he saw in the very circum- 
stances that called for it. Now that the visible organization of 
the church had been vindicated against all the assaults of centu- 
ries, now that her dogmatic authority had been placed beyond 
doubt or cavil by the definition of Papal Infallibility, it seemed 
clear to him that the special characteristic of the future manifes- 
tation of the Holy Spirit would be his work of sanctification in 
the individual members of the church. This, indeed, was al- 
ways, he said, the normal work of the Holy Spirit; but as the 
action of the Holy Spirit varies in its manifestation according to 
actual needs, and as the needs of these past centuries had been 
distinguished by the controversies then raging, his manifesta- 
tion had therefore lain principally in the direction of defin- 
ing truth against error and maintaining the church's organism 
against the disintegrating influences assailing it; which being 
now accomplished, it was natural to expect that, while ever up- 
holding and perfecting the results thus attained, his normal 



1889.] FATHER HECKER. g 

work of individual sanctification would be the most striking 
characteristic of his manifestation in the era now opening, so 
that while there might be fewer great saints than in epochs when 
the Lord raised them up as beacon-lights amid surrounding 
gloom, there might well be expected more general sanctification 
of the church's members than has been witnessed perhaps in 
any previous period of her history. 

This thought was the inspiration of his life, and by no grand- 
er and nobler surely could a life be inspired. To be, no matter 
how humbly, the servant of God and of his church for its reali- 
zation was his one desire and hope. To rouse others to appre- 
ciate it and to join with him in " preparing the way of the Lord ' 
was the end to which his gigantic energies were unceasingly 
bent. From the admirable Congregation of the Most Holy Re- 
deemer, in which his early life as Catholic, religious, and priest 
had been moulded, a manifest interposition of Divine Providence 
led him forth to be the centre of a new band of ardent, generous 
souls, enlightened with these same views, thrilling with this 
same touch of the Holy Spirit, sharing in this same eagerness to 
be God's instruments for speaking to our age the word it needs 
to hear, and exerting on it the influence it needs to feel and to be 
guided by, for showing to an era and a country whose distinc- 
tive characteristic is the emphasizing of the dignity, the rights, 
and the power of the individual elements in the social system, 
that only through the means of truth and grace provided by the 
Saviour of the world in his holy Catholic Church can the indi- 
vidual reach his true dignity, his fullest liberty, the just knowl- 
edge of both his rights and his duties, and the divine help 
that will enable him to use all his powers in the interest of 
genuine civilization, for the real welfare of the social system to 
which he belongs. 

For thirty years he guided them in carrying on this work 
of the Holy Ghost, with every instrumentality of tongue and of 
pen. Now he has left to them the inheritance of his stainless 
memory, his world-renowned name, his spirit and his work. 
May they be ever worthy of their great founder! And not to 
them alone has he left an inheritance. The imprint of his life on 
our generation is indelible. He has planted germs of thought, 
of aspiration, of life-purpose in many and many a soul, in every 
rank of the church, in every corner of our country ; and they will 
go on fructifying, to his honor, as well as for the glory of God 
and the welfare of the world. 

JOHN J. KEANE. 



io "THE POET" OF THE WAYSIDE INN. [Apr., 



"THE POET OF THE WAYSIDE INN. 

LONGFELLOW used his gift of accuracy to no small avail in 
describing his imaginary company at the Red Horse in Sud- 
bury. Of the actual group who were wont to gather there 
under the great oaks, and whose idyllic holidays blossomed in 
their friend's mind into his famous publication of 1863, there is 
but one whom the world is likely to know for ever ; and the nar- 
rator did his own reputation a loving service in outlining the 
image of so gracious and honorable a personality. " The Poet * 
of the Wayside Inn is twice such, in that his own verse is full of 
its passionate old memories of youth and joy. Thomas William 
Parsons, born in Boston in 1819, is known to most Americans 
only as the translator of the Divine Comedy and the author of the 
immortal " Lines on a Bust of Dante." The force and fire of these 
stanzas, or the majesty of his torso-translation, has strangely ob- 
scured the body of his original work, itself of incomparable 
charm. His name is seldom heard where it belongs, abreast of 
Emerson's and Lowell's ; he seems to be the lost Merope among 
our starry elder seven. The difference cannot so well be ex- 
pressed by saying that their popularity has been denied him as 
that he has escaped it. One feels like asking the thrice-beauti- 
ful " Paradisi Gloria " why it has never invaded the cloisters and 
choirs ; the " Saint Peray," where it secludes its sunny trochees 
from the lovers of the grape; and the " Room for a Soldier!' 
how it has kept virgin from the thousand uses of our republic's 
Memorial Day. -Vix ea nostra voco. A scholar who lives in 
shady nooks, away from trade, who gives his books oftenest by 
stealth and but half-willingly to the household constituency for 
whom sixty or eighty copies are printed, who puts forth no sign 
of extraneous life save now and then in a newspaper a trenchant 
civic satire or a brief epitaph, too high and clear to strike a ray 
into that prowling density, the Public Eye what power is there 
to drag his glory hidden into the open sky? His work truly 
lacks zest and continuity ; it is scarcely near enough, glad 
enough, outspoken enough, altruistic enough ; so that the award 
of men goes with justice to those who have tried to reach them. 

But there is a quality of tenderness and dignity in Dr. Par- 
sons' poems which is worth the sacrifice of the freedom of cities. 
He will be always, probably, as he is now, living among the 
poets of private adoration. He will dwell on Parnassus, if not 



.] "THE POET" OF THE WAYSIDE INN. u 

in the anthologies. If he be shut from the strong sunshine of 
Chaucer, he will be no less happy in the choice and cool Limbus 
patrum where are the elect spirits of such as Daniel, Marvell, 
Landor, and Arthur Hugh Clough ; not humbled among these, 
beholden to none of them, and master in his province, as they in 
theirs, of the austere and alien music sometimes unintelligible 
to humanity. 

After saying so much, a devil's lawyer should duly add that 
the Public Eye can scarcely be scorned for not seeing the in- 
visible. Where are Dr. Parsons' books ? The oracle answers, 
as of other leaves: 

. . . "three 

On the moss'd elm ; three on the naked lime 
Trembling ; and one upon the old oak-tree ! " 

Perhaps the query is as audacious as a foot put into the 
fairy-ring. Wherever they are or are not, they are in the 
heart of our literature. There is goblin laughter in the air 
that their familiar beauty should be so new to better folk than 
their finders. Let us quote at hap-hazard the short monody on 
Edward Everett, the first of a handful of roses to be culled 
from a walled and watched Boston garden : 

" So fell our statesman ! for he stood sublime 
On that proud pedestal, a people's heart : 
As when some image, through the touch of time, 
That long was reverenced in the public mart, 
Or some tall clock-tower, that was wont to tell 

* 

The hour of duty to the young and olden 

With tongue most musical of every bell, 

Bends to its base, and is no more beholden. 

So fell our Everett: more like some great elm, 

Lord of the grove, but something set apart, 

That all the tempests could not overwhelm, 

Nor all the winters of its seventy years ; 

But on some peaceful midnight bursts his heart ! 

And in the morning men behold the wreck 

(Some with gray hairs who cannot hold their tears), 

But in the giant timber find no speck 

Nor unsound spot, but only wholesome wood ; 

No secret worm consuming at the core 

The stem that ever seemed so fair and good. 

And aged men that knew this tree of yore 

When but a sapling, promising full well, 

Say to each other: 'This majestic plant 

Came to full growth; it made no idle vaunt; 

From its own weight, without a flaw, it fell.' " 



12 "THE POET" OF THE WAYSIDE INN. [Apr., 

Here is a single image, in itself simple, noble, and affecting, 
handled throughout its twenty-four lines with not a theatrical- 
ism, not a strain. And no mere technical skill works this miracle, 
here where technique .is fallible, but the possessing energy of 
thought, which seizes hold upon words, exacts of them severe 
service, and neither releases them a moment before nor detains 
them a moment after its own full will is spent. 

Or. Parsons is the fool who looks in his heart and writes, as 
Sidney was ; he is readily moved to song; he has little project- 
ing power ; a sort of gossamer autobiography could be built up 
from the recorded haps, the passing visions, the chosen nouns 
and pronouns of his verses. His characteristic at his best is 
great sensibility of impression, great control and discipline of 
expression. He is one of those who speak from the stress of 
emotion as few men do, as few women can without any explo- 
sion or sensation. However you feel his genius, you must feel 
first its high-bred, forerunning condition of art. He is not reti- 
cent, but his saving accent makes you think him so. 

His themes are often such as would seem to evade and de- 
cline adequate language, and he can always present them with 
masterful delicacy and terseness. Upon him, who is akin to no 
one else, 

"The marks have sunk of Dante's mind." 

It is not in vajn that for nearly fifty years he has had great 
companionship, paying for it his magnificent coin of interpreta- 
tion to the English world. What he has won thereby is not an 
actual gain, but the precious vivifying and clarifying of his poetic 
gift. In his thrusting, lance-like humor, his high-handed indi- 
viduality, his genuine pathos, his secure scholarship, his literary 
equipment, his scorn of pomp and artifice, his large, patient note 
of patriotism and brotherliness, his irresistible reverence of what 
is reverend, and antagonism of the world's paltry aims; above 
all, in his conception and treatment of religion and of love, Dr. 
Parsons is markedly Dante's man. All of his own worth, all 
of his lineage, shine out in his recognizable poems following, 
filled with the " high serenity ' which Arnold praises in the 
Florentine. 

" SOTTO L'USBERGO DEL SENTIRSI PURO. 

* 

" Brush not the floor where my lady hath trod, 
Lest one light sign of her foot you mar; 
For where she hath walked in the spring, on the sod, 
There, I have noticed, most violets are. 



1 8 ^9.] "THE POET" OF THE WAYSIDE INN. 13 

" Touch not her work, nor her book, nor a thing 
That her exquisite finger hath only pressed ; 
But fan the dust off with a plume that the wing 
Of a ring-dove let fall, on his way to his nest. 

" I think the sun stops, if a moment she stand 
In the morn, sometimes, at her father's door; 
And the brook where she may have dipped her hand 
Runs clearer to me than it did before. 

" Under the mail of 'I know me pure ' 
I dare to dream of her! and by day 
As oft as I come to her presence, I'm sure 
Had I one low thought, she would look it away." 

What balance and discretion in these worshipful lines ! They 
throw the glove to living poets; indeed, it is hard to cite one 
other who could treat a theme, fanciful as any of Crashaw's or 
Carisw's, with such homespun moderation and simplicity. But 
artistic governance is the sign-manual of Dr. Parsons' rapt verse, 
which, never tame nor timid, has a restrained and tempered 
glow as of Phaethon holding his horses in. His " Paradisi 
Gloria' has caught all the beams of the Christian heaven, and 
prisons them as in an opal : 

"There is a city, builded by no hand, 
And unapproachable by sea or shore, 
And unassailable by any band 
Of storming soldiery for evermore. 

" In that pure city of the living Lamb 
No ray shall fall from satellite or sun, 
Or any star; but He who said 'I Am' 
Shall be the light, He and His Holy One. 

" Nor shall we longer spend our gift of time 
In time's poor pleasures, doing petty things 
Of work or warfare, merchandise or rhyme ; 
But we shall sit beside the silver springs 

" That flow from God's own footstool, and behold 
The saints and martyrs, and those blessed few 
Who loved us once and were beloved of old, 
To dwell with them, and walk with them anew, 

" In alternations of sublime repose, 
Musical motion : the perpetual play 
Of every faculty that Heaven bestows 
Through the bright, busy, and eternal day ! ' 



14 "Tff FOT" OF THE WAYSIDE INN. [Apr., 

" UPON A LADY SINGING. 

" Oft as my lady sang for me 

That song of the lost one that sleeps by the sea, 
Of the grave, and the rock, and the cypress-tree, 
Strange was the pleasure that over me stole ; 
For 'twas made of old sadness that lives in my soul. 

" So still grew my heart at each tender word 
That the pulse in my bosom scarcely stirred, 
And I hardly breathed, but only heard! 
Where was I ? Not in the world of men 
Until she awoke me with silence again. 

" Like the smell of the vine, when its early bloom 
Sprinkles the green lane with sunny perfume, 
Such a delicate fragrance filled the room : 
Whether it came from the vine without, 

Or arose from her presence, I dwell in doubt. 



" Light shadows played on the pictured wall 
From the maples that fluttered outside the hall, 
And hindered the daylight, yet, ah! not all: 
Too little for that the forest would be, 
Such a sunbeam she was, and is, to me ! 

" When my sense returned, as the song was o'er, 
I fain would have said to her: 'Sing it once more !' 
But soon as she smiled my wish I forbore : 
Music enough in her look I found, 
And the hush of her lip seemed sweet as the sound." 

When we think of the trail of glory this poem would have 
left after it had it been written in an elder day, one who loves it 
could wish it back to the "spacious times of great Elizabeth." 
Early English indeed it is, word on word. Keats would have 
named it " treasurable," and bent his knee and sighed generously 
that he had not written it. To those who prize it above all its 
fellows, the comment may be made justly that it is typical of Dr. 
Parsons' least striking and most subjective work. But in his virile 
satires and letters, his "Ode on Webster's Death," his " Ballad 
of the Willey House," his splendid "Shadow of the Obelisk," and 
such things, ignored here with a purpose, he speaks as a thinker, 
an American, almost as a man of action ; while in many a lyric, 
like that " Upon a Lady Singing," he lets loose his truly dominant 
and characteristic note, like that of a wood-thrush at home in the 
untrodden wild, " singing high and aloof." We look in vain 
elsewhere for the sweet waywardness, the remote, spiritual, self- 




.] "THE POET" OF THE WAYSIDE INN. 15 

forgetting utterance of the shy bird's heart ; and that, after all, 
is the sole thing for which a studious ear listens. Something of 
it comes again in the drowsy and affectionate closes of this free- 
lance sonnet : 

i 

"Not now for sleep, O slumber-god! we sue; 
Hypnus, not sleep ! but give our soul's repose : 
Of the day's music such a mellowing close 
As might have rested Shakspere from his art, 
Or soothed the spirit of the Tuscan strong 
Who best read life, its passions and its woes, 
And wrought of sorrow earth's divinest song. 
Bring us a mood that might have lulled Mozart ! 
Not stupor, not forgetfulness, not dreams, 
But vivid sense of what is best and rarest, 
And sweet remembrance of the blessed few, 
In the real presence of this fair world's fairest , 
A spell of peace, as 'twere by those dear streams 
Boccaccio wrote of, when romance was new." 

Dr. Parsons' muse " sees life steadily, and sees it whole." His 
voice is lent to the royal praise of friendship, to fatherland, to 
the uses of philosophy, to archness and good cheer; to the 
alms-chest, the gentian, the sun-dial ; to the beauty of hills 
and streams, 

" The golden heaps beneath the trees, 
The purpling of the oak" ; 

to the piercing thought of revels ended ; to prayer, and to the 
burial-song of young children : 

" Still the benediction stays, 
Although its angel passed : 
Dear God ! thy ways, if bitter ways, 
We learn to love at last. 

" But for the dream it broke, indeed, 
And yet great comfort gives; 
What was a dream is now our creed : 
We know our darling lives ! " 

Many dirges are to be found in the wide-margined booklets 
bearing Dr. Parsons' name, burdened with wonderful beauty, 
pity, and exaltation. We will make our valedictory with that 
which, at the close of the Threnody, commemorates the passing 
of a fortunate and fragrant soul, Henry Wales, the Student of 
Longfellow's Wayside Inn, who himself " never found the best 
too good," and must have slept proudly to such music: 



i 

1 6 \TffE POET" OF THE WAYSIDE INN. [Apr., 

t t 

" From the delicate eye and ear 
To the rest that shall not see, 
To the sleep that shall not hear, 
Nor feel the world's vulgarity, 

" Bear him in his leaden shroud, 
In his pall of foreign oak, 
To the uncomplaining crowd 
Where ill word was never spoke ! 



" From the rubs that fortune gives, 
From the spite that rivals fear ; 
From the sneer that long outlives 
All the praise the world can spare; 

*' Bear him from life's broken sleep, 
Dreams of pleasure, dreams of pain ; 
Hopes that tremble, joys that weep, 
Loves that perish, visions vain ; 

" To the beautiful repose 

Where he was before his birth : 
With the ruby, with the rose, 
With the harvest, earth in earth ! 

" Bring him to the body's rest 
After battle, sorely spent; 
Wounded, but a welcome guest 
In the Chief's triumphal tent.'' 

This is the sort of literature which takes a critic in thrall, and 
bids him uncover to look a classic in the face. Nothing- is to be 
said of the distinction of such stainless achievement, save saluta- 
tion to the maker of it and thanksgiving to Father Apollo. It is 
very easy, were it worth while, to cite all it is not that is, all it 
does not set out to be. But the business of commendation, just 
now, is much more imperative. ^ 

The poetry of Dr. Parsons " walks in a veil and a silence," 
in the charming phrase of Jeremy Taylor, back to the fountain- 
heads of English song. One feels how winning and compelling 
it might be, were it not too disdainful. Whatever be the real 
cause of its golden withdrawal, seclusion, first and last, wrongs 
it. There are thousands, not irreverential, in cities who pine for 
the sight of an immortal, and squander homage on the new- 
comers from every wood. But the desired dryad is safe in her 
bole, far away, unrevealed to any but the aware and asking eye. 

LOUISE IMOGEN GUINEY. 





1 889.] THE DEL UGE : WA s IT 



THE DELUGE: WAS IT UNIVESKfe^ iQ 



THE progress of modern scientific research and discovery 
has given new interest to the old controversy * concerning the 
extent of the Deluge mentioned in the Book of Genesis. 

Three different views have been advanced on the subject: 
I, that the Deluge was universal, both geographically and ethno- 
logically ; 2, that it was universal ethnologically, but not geo- 
graphically ; and 3, that it was neither geographically nor ethno- 
logically universal. 

Let us briefly examine these different views. 

I. 

That the Deluge had been universal both geographically 
and ethnologically was the general belief of Christians until 
comparatively recent times. Even as late as 1877, P. Bosizio, 
S.J., attempted to defend this view in his work Die Geologic 
und die Siindfluth. f 

On what foundations was this view based ? In the first place, 
Biblical expressions like the following seemed to favor this 
opinion: " The waters prevailed beyond measure upon the 
earth ; and all the high mountains under the whole heaven were 
covered. '. . . The water was fifteen cubits higher than the 
mountains which it covered. . . . All flesh was destroyed that 
moved upon the earth, both of fowl, and of cattle, and of beasts, 
and of all creeping things that creep upon the earth ; and all 
men. . . . Noe only remained, and they that were with him 
in the ark." Such and similar statements of the inspired Book 
seemed to imply that the whole earth had been inundated, and 
that all men save Noe and his family were destroyed. 

Moreover, the errors^ of the ancients concerning the character 
of the inhabitable portion of the earth confirmed this opinion. 
Up to the time of the discovery of America it was generally be- 
lieved that the inhabitable earth was " a sea-girt plain, beyond 
which no mortal could pass." : Such a plain, it was thought, 
could easily have been inundated by the waters of the Deluge. 

Nowadays it is rare to find any well-informed Catholic writer 

* See Zeitschrift fur katholische Theologie, Innsbruck, IV. Quartalfelt, 1887, pp. 631-74 ; 
and La Scienza e la Fede, Napoli, 30 Giugno, 1887, pp. 484-94. 

t See Zeitschrijt fur katholische Theologte, 1. c. p. 633. 

JSee Charles Woodruff Shields, D.D., LL.D. : Philosophia Ultima, New York, 1888, 
P- 43- 



1 8 THE DELUGE: WAS IT UNIVERSAL? [Apr., 

who would defend this view. Geological and paleontological 
reasons combine to prove that geographically the Deluge was 
not universal. At the time assigned for the Deluge the sur- 
face of the earth was substantially as it is now. If then some 
great portion of the dry land had been submerged, a propor- 
tionate rise of land above the waters would have been necessary 
in some other part of the globe. For, as Professor Alexander 
Winchell * observes, " the terrestrial globe, in some of its be- 
havior, may be compared to an india-rubber ball filled with 
water. If indented by pressure in one place, there must be a 
protuberance equal in volume in another place." Hence, if 
all Asia had been submerged, a proportionate amount of dry land 
would have been lifted above the waters somewhere else. That 
Asia, Africa, Europe, Australia, and America were all submerged 
at the same time seems geologically impossible, and we have no 
evidence which would justify us to assume that God wrought so 
stupendous a wonder. 

On the contrary, there are geological and paleontological facts 
which evidently prove that some portions of the earth have not 
been inundated by the Noachian Deluge. For instance, in 
Auvergne, France ; in the Eifel country of the Prussian Rhine 
province ; in New Zealand, and elsewhere there are extinct vol- 
canoes, evidently older than Noe, that are " marked by cones of 
pumice-stone, ashes, and such light substances as could not have 
resisted the waters of the Deluge." f Again, as a distinguished 
writer observes, % " on the islands that are geologically much 
older than the time of the Deluge we find singular faana, 
which one will not meet elsewhere ; this is the case with New 
Zealand, Australia, Madagascar, and Japan. Had the Deluge 
been universal, how could one now find such peculiar animals in 
those regions? " 

For such or similar reasons, no doubt, even F. Vigouroux | 
declares : " We willingly acknowledge that the Deluge was not 
universal for the inhabitable earth ; but," he adds, " we believe 
that it was universal for the inhabited earth, and that it caused 
all men living then to perish, with the exception of Noe and his 
family." This is the second view which we shall briefly 
examine. 

* The American Geologist^ Minneapolis, March, 1888, p. 139. 
t Cunningham Geikie : Hours with the Bible, New York, p. 170. 
J La Scienza e la Fede, Napoli, 30 Giugno, 1887, p. 493. 

See also Joseph Le Conte : Evolution and its Relation to Religious Thought^ New 
York, 1888, pp i8d-5. 

II Les Livres Saints et la Critique Rationaliste, Paris, 1887, vol. iii. p. 497. 



1889.] THE DELUGE: WAS IT UNIVERSAL? 19 

II. 

Assuming that the Deluge covered only a portion of the in- 
habitable earth, we now ask, Is it probable that at the time of the 
catastrophe some men lived beyond its reach and were conse- 
quently not destroyed by it ? Before attempting to answer this 
point, the following questions are to be considered : I, When 
did the Deluge occur? 2, Whereabout did it occur? 3, How 
long before had mankind been in existence? 4, Is it probable 
that some tribes of men had migrated into countries beyond the 
reach of the Deluge? and 5, Are there any facts which seem to 
favor this probability ? 

First as to the time of the Deluge : Vigouroux, who seems 
to be anxious to hold the view that all men outside the Ark per- 
ished by the Deluge, says : * " We have seen before f that we 
know not at what moment God punished mankind by this ter- 
rible chastisement, and we have proved that we can move back 
the date as far as the historical and archaeological sciences 
require." But this can be questioned. A. Breitung, S.J., ob- 
serves:^: " It is indeed more probable that we can prolong 
the time between Adam and Noe according to need than that 
we can assume a relatively shorter period of time between 
Adam and Noe, but a very long one between Noe and Moses." 

The chronology of the time between the Deluge and 
the birth of Abraham is carefully given in the eleventh 
chapter of Genesis, yet the most ancient texts differ con- 
siderably in the exact numbers of years. According to 
the Septuagint 1,183, according to the Samaritan text 94.2, 
and according to the Vulgate about 292 years elapsed 
between the Deluge and the birth of Abraham, The chron 
ology from the time of Abraham to the birth of Christ can be 
approximately ascertained from indications in the Koly Scrip- 
tures. ] According to calculations based on the Samaritan 
Pentateuch, the Deluge occurred between 2936 and 31516.0.; 
and according to calculations based on the text of the Septua- 
gint, it occurred between 3168 and 3383 B.c.1" It would seem 
that the date of the Deluge can hardly be placed farther back 
than this. 

* Les Livres Saints et la Critique Rationaliste^ Paris, 1887, vol. iii. pp. 499-500. 
t L. c. p. 224. 

\ Zeitschrift fur katholische Theologie, Innsbruck, 1887, p. 669. 
Camillas Mazella, S.J. : De Deo Creante, Woodstock, Marylandiae, 1877, p. 390. 
| L. c. p. 391. 

If Henry M. Harman, D.D., LL.D. : Introduction to the Study of the Holy Scriptures^ 
New York, p. 229. 

VOL. XLIX. 2 



20 THE DELUGE: WAS IT UNIVERSAL? [Apr., 

Whereabout was the Deluge? Indications seem to point to 
western Central Asia. It is quite probable that the leading 
descendants of Adam, the direct line of the ancestors of God's 
chosen people of old, continued to reside near the former happy 
home of our first parents, the Garden of Paradise. Now, this 
was undoubtedly situated in western Central Asia, as the Book 
of Genesis unmistakably indicates by stating 1 * that four rivers, 
the Phison, the Gehon, the Tigris, and the Euphrates had their 
source in the region of the Paradise. That really the Tigris and 
the Euphrates of to-day were meant cannot be doubted. In the 
first place, of the Tigris it is expressly stated that it is the same 
that passeth along by the Assyrians, f Secondly, there is no 
geological reason known why the present Tigris and Euphrates 
should not have existed in the days of Adam, or even long before. 
Thus, for instance, our Missouri, Ohio, and Mississippi, the latter 
about as far south as Tennessee, seem to have been in existence 
during the tertiary age, long before the appearance of man upon 
earth.;}: Besides, the Tigris and Euphrates, flowing between the 
thirtieth and fortieth degrees north of the equator, were pro- 
bably not interfered with to any considerable extent during the 
glacial period, for the glaciers came no further south, in Europe 
and Asia, than about the fiftieth degree. Moreover, it is 
not likely that the transient inundation caused by the Deluge 
has permanently changed the channels of these rivers, which it 
could not have done without changing the entire surface of 
the surrounding territories. And, finally, the Book of Genesis 
was written at a time when no other rivers were known as the 
Tigris and the Euphrates than the rivers which still bear these 
names. 

For these reasons it cannot be doubted that the Paradise was 
located somewhere near or about the sources of the present Tigris 
and Euphrates, in Armenia. This is the opinion of competent au- 
thorities.! A writer ^f observes: "Here, within a circle but a 
few miles in diameter, four large rivers rise the Euphrates and 
Tigris, or Hiddekel, flowing south into the Persian Gulf; the 
Araxes, flowing northeast into the Caspian Sea ; and the Phasis, 
or Halys, flowing northwest into the Black Sea. This fourth 

* Genesis ii. 10-14. t Ibid. ii. 14. 

\ See Joseph Le Conte : Elements of Geology, New York, 1887, pp. 501, 550. 

See James D. Dana: New Text-Book of Geology, fourth edition, p. 351; and Joseph Le 
Conte, 1. c. p. 580. 

|| See Dr. Franz Kaulen: Einleitung in die heilige Schrift, Freiburg-in-B., p. 170, and Fr. 
v. Hummelauer, S.J. : Stimmen aus Maria-Laach, Sept., 1875, pp. 3*7-35. 

1 See "Eden," in A Dictionary of the Holy ; Bible. Published by the American Tract 
Society, New York. 



.] THE Dt- LUGE: WAS IT UNIVERSAL? 21 

river may have been the Pison of Eden ; and the Araxes may 
well be the Gihon, since both words mean the same and de- 
scribe its dart-like swiftness. This elevated country, still beau- 
tiful and fertile, may have been the land of Eden; and in its 
choicest portion towards the east the garden may once have 
smiled." J. W. Dawson,* both a Biblical scholar and a great geo- 
logical authority, says of Eden: " It was evidently a district of 
Western Asia ; and, from its possession of several important 
rivers, rather a region or large territory than a limited spot. . . . 
In this view it is a matter of no moment to fix its site more near- 
ly than the indication of the Bible that it included the sources, 
and probably large portions of the valleys, of the Tigris, the 
Euphrates, and perhaps the Oxus and Jaxartes.' 5 It is quite nat- 
ural to suppose that the descendants of Adam, as far as the exi- 
gencies of life would permit, loved to remain in the neighbor- 
hood of this region, once the happy home of their first parents. 
The author just mentioned observes : " Before the Deluge this 
region must have been the seat of a dense population, which, 
according to the Biblical account, must have made consider- 
able advances in the arts, and at the same time sunk very low in 
moral debasement." 

Another fact which points to Western Asia as the locality ot 
the Deluge is that the ark finally rested " upon the mountains 
of Armenia." f The ark, not being a ship to sail, but rather a 
large house simply intended to float upon the waters, it is not 
improbable that it landed not far from where it began to float. 

Assuming, then, that the Deluge inundated some portion of 
Western Asia, we may next inquire how far it extended. It is 
to be remembered that at the time of the Deluge the surface of 
our earth was substantially the same as it is at present. That a 
Deluge in Western Asia should have affected the Australian 
and American continents seems geologically impossible. That 
it should have submerged all Africa is also quite improbable.. 
The waters, naturally seeking their level in all directions, would 
rather have flowed towards the Indian Ocean, and through the 
Mediterranean Sea and the Sahara into the Atlantic, leaving the 
main portion of the African continent untouched. Just as 
little is it geologically probable that the waters of a Deluge in 
Western Asia should have covered the then existing { Pyrenees, 
Alps, and Carpathian Mountains of Europe, or the Himalayas of 
Asia. , 

The Origin of the World, according to Revelation and Science, New York, pp. 252-3. 
t Genesis viii. 4. \ See James D. Dana: New Text-Book of Geology, fourth edition, p. 346.. 



22 THE DELUGE: WAS IT UNIVERSAL? [Apr., 

Let us see what competent scientific authorities say of the na- 
ture and extent of the Biblical Deluge. Louis Figuier ob- 
serves : " The Asiatic Deluge of which sacred history has trans- 
mitted to us the few particulars we know was the result of 
the upheaval of a part of the long chain of mountains which are 
a prolongation of the Caucasus. ... It seems to establish the 
countries lying at the foot of the Caucasus as the cradle of the 
human race ; and it seems to establish also the upheaval of a 
chain of mountains, preceded by an eruption of volcanic mud, 
which drowned vast territories entirely composed, in these re- 
gions, of plains of great extent.' 3 

Sir J. W. Dawson says f of the Deluge: "I may remark 
here, as its most important geological peculiarity, that it was'evi- 
.dently a local convulsion. . . . Viewed in this light, the phenom- 
ena recorded in the Bible, in connection with geological proba- 
bilities, lead us to infer that the physical agencies evoked by the 
divine power to destroy this ungodly race were a subsidence of 
the region they inhabited so as to admit the oceanic waters, and 
.extensive atmospherical disturbances connected with that subsi- 
dence, and perhaps with the elevation of neighboring regions. 
In this case it is possible that the Caspian Sea, which is now 
.more than eighty feet below the level of the ocean, and which 
was probably much more extensive then than at present, re- 
ceived much of the drainage of the Flood, and that the mud and 
:sand deposits of the sea and the adjoining desert plains, once 
manifestly a part of its bottom, conceal any remains that exist of 
the antediluvian population." 

From a geological point of view, the conclusion seems inevi- 
table that the Biblical Deluge was confined to countries of West- 
ern Asia and, perhaps, portions of Southeastern Europe. 

We may next ask, How long before the Deluge had mankind 
existed? and is it probable that at the time of the cataclysm some 
tribes of men were beyond its reach ? As to the antiquity of 
mankind before the Deluge, we have the genealogical data of the 
Book of Genesis to give us information. \ But this is somewhat 
.unsatisfactory for the following reasons: In the first place, it 
is doubtful whether the respective genealogical lists have not 
passed over in silence some intermediate links between the gen- 
erations mentioned ; and, secondly, the most ancient known 
texts of the Book of Genesis give considerably different numbers 

* The World before the Deluge, New York, 1872, pp. 480-2. 

t The Origin of the World, according to Revelation and Science, New York, p. 256. 
t See F. Vigouroux : Les Livres Saints et la Critique Rationahste, vol. iii., Paris, 1887, pp. 
^24-44. 



1889.] THE DELUGE: WAS IT UNIVERSAL? 23 

of years. The time from the creation of Adam to the Deluge 
was about 1,656 years, according- to the Vulgate and the Hebrew 
text; about 2,242 years, according to the Greek text ; and about 
1,307 years, according to the Samaritan text.* Yet even if we as- 
sume that only about 1,500 years elapsed between the creation of 
Adam and the time of Noe, it would appear quite improbable 
that all the tribes of men who at the time of the Deluge must 
have existed were still confined within the comparative!}' nar- 
row territory inundated by the Deluge. The longevity of peo- 
ple in primitive times must have greatly contributed to a rapid 
increase of mankind. Even at present " population doubles 
every twenty-five years where there are no obstructions to its 
natural increase." f In primitive times, when the whole surface 
of the earth was still open to mankind, there were comparatively 
few such obstructions to its natural increase. Even at the low 
rate just mentioned, the descendants of Adam might have in- 
creased to great numbers about the time of the Deluge. A dis- 
tinguished Catholic writer^ remarks : " If we try to estimate the 
probable increase of the human race, and the extent of its migra- 
tions before the Flood, on a priori grounds, there is very much 
that is hypothetical about the whole matter. It is impossible to 
determine how much time elapsed before the great cataclysm 
occurred. The ratios of increase are unknown. Some have 
carefully computed the population of the earth as it was A.M. 
500, estimating the probable number at 1,200,000. After eleven 
or fifteen more centuries, or even a longer possible lapse of time, 
it is easy to suppose that the posterity of Adam may have peo- 
pled the greater portion of the world." 

There are certain geological facts which seem to favor the 
opinion that mankind was widely spread over the surface of the 
earth before the time assigned to the Deluge. The well-known 
American scientist, Joseph Le Conte, states that the existence 
of tertiary man is yet unproved. But of the existence of man in 
Europe and America as early as the middle of the quaternary 
period there seems to be abundant evidence." . . . " The earli- 
est appearance of man on the American continent seems to have 
been on the Pacific coast, probably as migrants from Asia." 
..." Very recently on the eastern coast also, viz., in New Jer- 



*See F. Vigouroux, I.e. p. 228. 

tSee Henry M. Harman : Introduction to the Study of the Holy Scriptures, fourth edition, 
p. 241, and George Rawlinson : Egypt and Babylon, from Sacred and Profane Sources, New 
York. 1885 p. 136. 

Jin THE CATHOLIC, WORLD, New York, March, 1887, pp. 748-9. 

Elements of Geology, New York, 1887, p. 593, 598. 



24 THE DELUGE: WAS IT UNIVERSAL? [Apr., 

sey and elsewhere, some very rude flint implements have 
been found by Abbot, which seem to prove the existence of man 
there in glacial or interglacial times." Dr. Westhoff* declares 
" that man inhabited Europe at the glacial period that is, at a 
period when a large portion of the European continent was still 
covered by great masses of glaciers, when animals of the cold 
north and of the southern plain still inhabited the iceless re- 
gions must be considered an incontestable fact. " The well- 
known French scientist De Quatrefages declared, October 26, 
1886, it to be his conviction that man had already lived in Europe 
during the tertiary age that is, before the glacial period. The 
very fact, he added, that in the quaternary age man was 
spread over the whole earth as far as Patagonia is sufficient to 
render his prior existence evident, f And in his latest work on 
prehistoric men he declares : "An abundance of facts, the 
number of which is daily increasing, justifies us in asserting that 
from the quaternary age man has inhabited the four continents, 
that he had reached the utmost limits of the old and passed over 
into the new world." 

W. J. McGee, of the United States Geological Survey, says 
in an article on " Paleolithic Man in America," published No- 
vember, 1888 : "Excluding all doubtful cases, there remains a 
fairly consistent body of testimony indicating the existence of 
a widely-distributed human population upon the North Ameri- 
can continent during the later ice epoch.'* Again: "There is 
definite and cumulative evidence of man's existence during the 
latest ice epoch, with a strong presumption against an earlier 
origin than the first quaternary ice-invasion." 

Among the earliest traces of man in America are the remains 
which have been found " in California beneath the great sheet of 
lava which caps the celebrated Table Mountain of Calaveras 
County." Heretofore the epoch of the outflows of the respect- 
ive lava has been placed by scientists in the pliocene, or the 
last period of the tertiary age. But Prof. Alexander Win- 
chell | suggests that these volcanic eruptions west of the Rocky 
Mountains were contemporaneous with the glacial epoch, when 
" North America, east of the Rocky Mountains and as far south as 
Cincinnati, was covered by a sheet of glacier ice, which perhaps 
averaged a mile in thickness." The relation thus suggested be- 

*JahrbuchderNaturwissenschaften,rf!&6-\''&'i, published by B. Herder, Freiburg-i.-B., 
1887, pp. 347-52. f L. c. 

\ Quoted by A. Breitung, S.J. : Zeitschriftfur katholische Theologie, Lxnsbruck, 1887, P- 673. 
In The Popular Science Monthly, New York, pp. 24-5, 36. 
| The American Geologist, Minneapolis, March, 1888, pp. 140-1. 



1889.] THE DELUGE: WAS IT UNIVERSAL? 25 

tween the outflows of lavas west and the ice-pressure east of 
the Rocky Mountains reduces the supposed antiquity of man in 
America considerably by bringing it within the glacial epoch. 



III. 

Since it seems to be a' fact admitted by sober scientists gen- 
erally that mankind was already widely scattered over the 
earth, even in North America, at the so-called glacial period, 
when a polar ice-cap exte'nded towards the south as far as forty 
degrees in America, and fifty degrees in Europe and Asia,* it is 
a question of great interest and importance to determine how 
long ago this was. Tt may at present be impossible to state ap- 
proximately when the quaternary age and its first period, the 
glacial, commenced ; but there are facts which give some indica- 
tions as to when the glaciers finally began to break up and 
gradually melt. Recent measurements of the topographical 
survey of New York have shown that the time of the recession 
of the Falls of Niagara since the glacial submergence at that 
place " cannot exceed ten thousand years, and was probably 
much less."f Professor Andrews has demonstrated, J in a paper 
on " The North American Lakes considered as Chronometers of 
Post-Glacial Time," that " the total time of all the deposits 
(since the glacial period) appears to be somewhere between five 
thousand three hundred and seven thousand five hundred years." 
Owing to favorable geological conditions, a still more reliable 
chronometer of post-glacial time exists in the gorge of the Mis- 
sissippi River between Fort Snelling and St. Anthony Falls. 
Prior to the second or last glacial epoch the Mississippi River 
passed by the way of the valley of Bassett's Creek, and of Lakes 
Calhoun, Harriet, and others, and joined the Minnesota River at 
some point probably between Shakopee and Fort Snelling. 
This former valley of the Mississippi was filled with drift clay, 
and the river was forced out of its old channel. By plunging 
over the precipice at the present Fort Snelling, at the end of the 
glacial period, it began to form the Falls of. St. Anthony. Now, 
how long did it take the falls to recede up to where they are at 
present in Minneapolis ? It is known where the falls were when 
visited by Father Louis Hennepin in 1680, by Carver in 1766, 



* Joseph Le Conte : Elements of Geology, New York, 1887, p. 580. 

fSir J. W. Dawson : The Story of the Earth and Man, New York, 1887, p. 142. 

\ See James C. Southall : The Recent Origin of Man, Philadelphia, 1875, pp. 495-6. 

See The Geological and Natural History Survey of Minnesota for the year 1876, pp. 

175-89- 



26 THE DELUGE: WAS IT UNIVERSAL? [Apr., 

and by others later. At the rates of recession thus known, it 
seems to have taken the falls from six to nine thousand years to 
get to where they are now. There is probably no more reliable 
geological datum known for calculating the time which has 
elapsed since the close of the glacial period.*' Since, as scien- 
tists assert, mankind was already widely scattered over the en- 
tire globe at this period, and since the 'Biblical Deluge was un- 
doubtedly a merely local occurrence in western Central Asia, 
the conclusion seems inevitable that a great portion of mankind 
was not reached by the cataclysm. 




IV. 

This conclusion is confirmed by various other facts which 
can be but briefly indicated for the present. 

Father A. Breitung, S.J.,f calls attention to the remarkable 
facts that in the famous genealogical table of the descendants of 
Noe \ no mention is made of the Mongolian nations, and it 
seems none also of the African negro tribes. Moreover, it is a 
remarkable fact that the languages of these, peoples have taken 
a course of development entirely different from that of the lan- 
guages of the nations of undoubtedly Noachian descent. . Finally, 
as a writer, observes, "the Chamitic language of the Egyptians 
had already become markedly different from the Semitic lan- 
guages as early as 2300 B.C. The Sanscrit language was already 
Sanscrit at the date of 2000 B.C. The common Aryan language 
dates from at least 2500 B.C. . . . Taken in connection with all 
the reasons . . . adducible from other sources, the argument 
from linguistics makes it the more probable hypothesis that the 
white race alone can trace its origin to Noe." 

The Bible itself relates some remarkable facts bearing on the 
subject concerning the contemporaries of Abraham, who lived 
but ten generations after the Deluge. E. A. Pannier 1 ! observes : 
"After ten generations from the Deluge, the land of Chanaan 
was already inhabited by various peoples, who were so numer- 
ous that within a very small territory five cities flourished, 
whose crimes excited the anger of God. Syria, as far as Damas- 
cus and Hoba, was filled with people. . . . Besides these, the 

* See The Geological and Natural History Survey of Minnesota, 1876, p. 188. 
t Zeitschrift fur katholische Theologie, Innsbruck, 1887, p. 670. \ Genesis x. 

, Father A. Breitung : 1. c. p. 668-9. D I n THE CATHOLIC WORLD, March, 1887, pp. 753-4. 
1f Genealogice Biblicce cum Monumentis sEgyptiorum et Chaldceorum Collatce, Insulis, 
1886, p. 243-46. 



.] THE DELUGE: WAS IT UNIVERSAL? 27 

Bible mentions the Raphaim, the Zuzim, the Emim, and the 
Chorreans even to the plains of Pharan,* as also the Amalecit.es, 
Amorrhites, etc. Even kings of the Elamites invade Palestine. 
. . . On the other hand, Egypt is described to us as a powerful 
empire, renowned for its riches and the great multitude of its 
population." These and other facts, the learned author thinks, 
can hardly be explained on the assumption that only ten genera- 
tions were between the Deluge and Abraham. Therefore, he 
seems inclined f to assume that some names have been omitted in 
the genealogical list between Noe and Abraham. Perhaps a 
simpler explanation of the facts mentioned is that the Deluge 
had not reached Egypt, and perhaps not even the land of 
Chanaan ; and that these countries were consequently inhabited 
by peoples of antediluvian descent when Abraham first came 
there. The Bible plainly indicates that the original inhabitants 
of Chanaan were quite different from the Israelitic descendants 
of Abraham and Noe. 

Finally, it seems difficult, if not impossible, to reconcile 
the undoubted antiquity of the Egyptian J and Chinese ci- 
vilizations with the assumption that these had been gradu- 
ally developed after the time assigned by the Bible to the De- 
luge. 

It might be answered that the ethnological universality of the 
Deluge is proved by " the national traditions of antiquity," 
which " agree upon the awful catastrophe of a Deluge as a pun- 
ishment for man's crimes. "f Let us see whether the ancient 
national traditions really testify to the ethnological universality 
of the Deluge. No doubt some vague traditions concerning 
occurrences of which nobody knows anything with certainty 
have occasionally been considered to refer to the Deluge, but 
which probably refer to some other inundations caused by 
various rivers or overflowing lakes. Of such a character is, for 
instance, the great inundation mentioned in the historical books 
of China as having happened in the reigri of Yao, "long after the 
beginnings of the undoubted historic ages in Egypt and in 
Babylonia." f 

Some traditions which seem to refer to the Biblical Deluge 

* See Genesis xiv. 6. t L. c. p. 258. 

t See E. A. Pannier : Genealogies Bibliccz cum Monumentis Aigyptiorum et Chatdceorum 
Collates, 1886, pp. 93-105, 245, 251. 

See La Scienza et la Fede, Napoli, 30 Giugno, 1887, p. 493. 
| See Louis Jouin, Evidences of Religion, New York, 1877, pp. 95, 147-50. 

U See Francois Lenormant, The Beginning of History, according to the Bible and the 
Traditions of Oriental Peoples, New York, 1883, pp. 383-85. 



28 THE DELUGE: WAS IT UNIVERSAL? [Apr., 

are of comparatively little value to prove its universality. For 
instance, the traditions found among the North American In- 
dians, the Aztecs, etc., " were collected and published only at a 
comparatively recent epoch " ; * but we have no evidence that 
they were known to the mound-builders or other still more an- 
cient inhabitants of America. 

It is a significant fact that traces of a tradition concerning the 
Deluge have vainly been sought after among the black races, 
whether among the African tribes or the dusky populations of 
Oceanica.f 

Another probably still more significant fact is that " the two 
most ancient nations of which we have any knowledge the 
Egyptian and Chinese have no record of the Deluge in their 
writings or traditions, or traces of it on their monuments." \ As 
to Egypt in particular, Lenormant says: ''The monuments and 
original texts of Egypt, with all their cosmogonic speculations, 
do not afford a single even remote allusion to such a cataclysm. 
When the Greeks told the story of Deucalion's deluge to the 
Egyptian priests, they were informed that the valley of the Nile 
had been preserved from that calamity." There is only one men- 
tion of the Deluge known coming from an Egyptian source, 
but " it is most probable that this account is simply a foreign 
tradition, recently introduced, and doubtless of an Asiatic and 
Chaldasan origin." 

These fact's rather favor the view that the Deluge was neither 
geographically nor ethnologically universal. 

In view of all the facts mentioned, it would seem : I, that the 
Biblical Deluge was confined to the countries about the Caspian 
Sea; probably it did not extend beyond the mountains towards 
the west of the present Chinese Empire ; it may even be doubted 
that it covered the mountains of Syria or Asia Minor; and 2, that 
only a portion, and perhaps onlv a comparatively small one, of the 
human family living at that time was destroyed by the cataclysm. 

V. 

But can a Catholic conscientiously hold such an opinion? 
Father Bosizio, S.J., was probably the last Catholic writer 
of note who, in his work Die Geologic und die Sundfluth, pub- 
lished 1877, made an attempt to defend the geographical univer- 

* See Fr. Lenorrtiant, 1. c. pp. 458, 469. t L. c. p. 382. 

+ Lorenzo Burge : Preglacial Man and the Aryan Race, Boston, 1887, p. 254. As to 
Egypt, see also Bible Myths, New York, 1884, PP- 23-4 ; Fr. Lenormant, 1. c. pp. 443-52 ; and 
Dr. Heinrich Luken : Die Traditionen des Menschengeschlechts, Munster, 1869, pp. 230-5. 



1889.] THE DELUGE: WAS IT UNIVERSAL? 29 

sality of the Deluge.* Catholic writers now generally agree 
in abandoning this view. Father Vigouroux,f for instance, de- 
clares, " We willing admit that the Deluge was not universal for 
the inhabitable earth." It is not apparent why, after this admis- 
sion, he should insist that the Deluge was " universal for the 
inhabited earth," and " that it caused the destruction of all then 
living men, with the exception of Noe and his family." A learn- 
ed writer in THE CATHOLIC WORLD, March, 1887,$ has trul > T 
remarked : " It is generally admitted that the text of Genesis 
can be fairly interpreted in harmony with the theory of a re- 
stricted submergence and a corresponding limitation of the de- 
struction of animal life. The same rules of interpretation which 
allow of the local restriction of the Deluge, if fairly applied, 
permit also the restriction of the general destruction of human 
life." ' 

Father A. Breitung, S.J., declares that both the Bible and 
tradition, '" after all that up to the present could be proved with 
certainty," leave the question open whether at the time of the 
Deluge there existed nations beyond its reach. 

The distinguished Catholic writer Louis de Savigny, follow- 
ing the lead of Abbe Motais, has published a defence of the view 
that the Deluge was neither geographically nor ethnologically 
universal. He concludes his article in these words: || *' Since a 
great number of proofs evidently show that the Mosaic Deluge 
was partial, and that some races (of men) were preserved from 
this inundation, and that the church grants free scope for dis- 
cussion, or rather for the belief of each one (on this question), we 
do not see why the Catholic interpreters of the Bible still trouble 
themselves with defending a proposition that at all events is less 
probable and has not any, or at best but a relative, importance, 
in Catholic doctrine.' 3 

A careful study of the plan of the Book of Genesis will con- 
vince the reader that the inspired writer did not intend to write 
a universal history of mankind, but only the history of God's 
chosen people of old. Instead of enlarging the sphere of nations 
as he proceeds in writing, he gradually eliminates from his 
account all that were to him side-branches of the human family, 
and then traces only the history of the ancestors of Jacob and of 
his descendants. Hence he prominently marks out the direct 
line of generations from Adam and Seth to Noe, and then to 

* See Zeitschrift fur katholische Theologie, Innsbruck, 1887, p. 633. 

t Les Livres Saints et la Critique Rationaliste, Paris, 1887, p. 497. \ Pages 746-7. 

Zeitschrift fur katholische Theologie, 1. c. p. 671. 

i| See La Scienza e la Fede, Napoli, 30 Giugno, 1887, p. 494. 



30 THE WAY OF THE CROSS. [Apr., 

Thare, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, the ancestors of God's chosen 
people. Whether the Deluge was ethnologically universal or 
not is a matter of little or no interest to the inspired writer; * 
he only relates how Noe, one of the ancestors of the Israelites, 
had been saved from the cataclysm. 

If in examining the account of the Deluge this point of view* 
as also the Oriental manner of describing events, will be kept in 
mind, one will likely not find "a single word of the Biblical nar- 
rative which could not be explained or applied to a deluge 
limited not only as to its geographical extent, but also as to the 
number of people overtaken by the inundation." f 

JOHN GMEINER. 

ST. THOMAS' SEMINARY, ST. PAUL, MINN. 






THE WAY OF THE CROSS. 

4! Isaac said to his father: My father . . . behold fire and wood : where is the victim 
for the holocaust ? And Abraham said: God will provide himself a victim, my son." GENESIS 
xxii. 7, 8. 

" If any man will come after Me, let him deny himself, and take up his Cross and follow 
Me." ST. MATTHEW xvi. 24. 

V THE BEGINNING. 

THE CROSS-BEARER SETS OUT. 
' . The Master. 

Come! why delay ? Thou must away. 

Take up thy Cross ! 
Who hears my call should know that all 

Delay is loss. 

The Disciple. 

Yea, Lord, I will. But hark ! I still 

A while must bide, 
Till comes the one who should thereon 

Be crucified. 

The Master. 

Thy cross up-bear ; and hence repair 

To Calvary. 
The one whom I must crucify 

There thou shalt see. 

* See La Scienza e la Fede, 1. c. p. 489-90. t L. c. p.. 491. 



1889.] THE WAY OF THE CROSS. 31 

The Disciple. 

Yet must I stay ; since Calvary's way 

I never trod, 
How shall I know unless one show 

The untried road ? 

The Master. 

I go before. My cross I bore 

For others' sake. 
Follow thou Me ; and thou shalt see 

The way to take. 



The Disciple. 

Ah me ! men say thy chosen way 

Is hard and rough, 
Dark, narrow, cold ; and many hold 

Not kind enough. 

The Master. 

Who bears his cross for Love no loss 

Will he bewail, 
Nor e'er complain. Love makes each pain 

A joy to hail. 



ON THE WAY. 

THE CROSS-BEARER SINGS : 

Love lightens all : Love brightens all. 

Love smooths and cheers the roughest road 
Love gently lifteth those who fall : 

Love makes the narrow. pathway broad. 

Love hastes to give a glad assent : 

Love quickly yields if Love command : 

Love maketh silence eloquent : 

Love needs no word to understand. 

Love never numbereth the hours : 
Love knows before the tale is told : 

.Love decks the desert plain with flowers : 
Love's furnace turneth dross to gold. 



32 THE WAY OF THE CROSS. [Apr., 

Love harvests from the barren sand : 

Love cuts the widest swath afield : 
Love conquers with the weakest band : 

Love offers wounds as surest shield. 



Love smiles: all heaven doth brighter gleam : 
Love breathes one word and all is heard : 

Love sings : who knoweth not the theme ? 
Love steps : the Universe is stirred. 



Love owneth all, but giveth more : 
Love suffers with a pleasing pain : 

Love writes all debts upon the shore : 
Love profits more by loss than gain. 

Love cometh first to every goal : 
Love stays when every hope is fled : 

Love dies when dying wins" a soul : 
Love lives when all say, Love is dead. 



THE END. 
THE CROSS-BEARER ON CALVARY. 

The Disciple. 

Lord ! unto this thy promised goal of rest 
My feet have followed thine : and now I see 

The Way Thou broughtest me of all was best ; 
The way Love leadeth souls to victory. 

My Cross was heavy, Lord, to bear: yet I 

Could never know how sweet compared with thine 

Until I followed Thee, and learned to die 
Upon the one Thou gavest to be mine. 

More joy than words may tell enthralls my soul 
To know that here upon thy own death-throne 

Thou hast exalted me ; the crowning goal 
He only wins who makes thy Way his own. 

ALFRED YOUNG. 






1889.] BOETHIUS. 33 



BOETHIUS.* 

ITALY, as every one knows, was repeatedly invaded during 
the fifth century, about the middle of which Boethius was 
born. The scared inhabitants saw with terror and amazement 
long- cohorts of armed men, hirsute, warlike, and furious, defil- 
ing down the slopes of the Alps, and bivouacking in the flowery 
plains and vine-clad valleys of their beautiful country. These 
stalwart and terrible strangers, kirtled to the knee, shod with 
hairy buskins, draped in green cassocks, and glittering with pol- 
ished weapons, not only routed the legions that dared to confront 
them; they strewed the garden of Europe with ruins, carcasses, 
and ashes, and are as a consequence designated by the van- 
quished Italians " northern barbarians." True as this epithet 
may be in the mouth of a Roman historian, it is not equally 
veracious in the page of a modern writer. For we need hardly 
say the north of Italy is not the north of Europe. Descending 
from the Alps as they did, they necessarily appeared to Italians 
to come from the north. But it is difficult to suppose that 
Scandinavia in other words Lapland, Norway, Finland, and 
Sweden subject to the rigors of a polar climate, at any period 
could "swarm with incredible multitudes of men," could be an 
officina hominum. It is likewise certain that the warriors who 
revolutionized Italy and captured Rome under the command of 
Alaric were not "barbarians." According to St. Augustine 
in his De Civitate Dei they were in several respects more civil- 
ized than the Romans of republican times. They were Christians 
of the Arian sect, and no form of Christianity is compatible with 
utter barbarism. More thoroughly than the literary culture 
which Horace extols, Christianity 

"Eniollit mores i 
Nee sinit esse feros." 

The destruction with which they visited Rome was by no 
means as terrible as that which the Romans in republican times 
had inflicted on Carthage in Africa, Numantia in Spain, or 
Corinth in Greece, as well as on a thousand other cities. 

The most astonishing circumstance connected with these 
conquerors, who established their authority by force of arms 
over the whole extent of Italy, is that their chieftains invariably 

* In our series of Lives of the Saints we venture to place this sketch of Boethius, for al- 
though never canonized he is admitted to have been an heroic servant of God. ED. 



34 BOETHIUS. [Apr., 

bear Irish names. Alaric is a title compounded of two Irish 
words, al, great, and arg, a military hero. Genseric is com- 
pounded of gen, a sword, and seiric, strong. The Visigoths derive 
their qualifying epithet visi from the Irish faoiseadh, auxiliary. 
They reinforced the main body. The Austrogoths are so called 
from the word aistear, a journey. They were more itinerant 
than the others. The Vandals bear a name which betrays their 
unsettled habits. It is compounded of fan, wandering, and dal, 
a tribe. The pagan Rhodogasus, who carried terror into every 
Roman household, the most ferocious of all those warlike and fu- 
rious conquerors, bears a name which depicts his character. It 
is compounded of ro t too much, doig, fire, asadh or asa, kindling. 
He gave every habitation he laid hands on to the flames. Bishop 
O'Brien, explaining in his dictionary the word armain, a mili- 
tary officer, says : " Hence is derived the name of drminius, the 
famous German general." The radix of the term is ar, slaughter. 
It has no connection with Herman, as modern Germans fancy. 
The general name of the whole military multitude, Got hi, origi- 
nates apparently in the Irish word goid, theft, robbery ; their 
object was plunder. 

Rome, when besieged by Alaric, presented a tempting bait to 
the cupidity of these swordsmen. It was eighteen miles in cir- 
cumference, adorned with seventeen hundred and eighty patri- 
cian palaces, full of gorgeous furniture, costly raiment, and splen- 
did pictures, gold, silver, and precious gems. Some of these 
nobles were in the enjoyment of incomes amounting to five hun- 
dred thousand dollars a year. Its temples, churches, and amphi- 
theatres were at once stupendous and magnificent. In short, it 
was equal in splendor and opulence to London or Paris in the 
present day. It was enriched with the plunder and tributes of 
the known world. 

It is by no means impossible indeed, it is almost certain- 
that these terrible invaders regarded themselves as the avengers 
of the world, inflicting on the raptores orbis the devastation and 
ruin which Rome had inflicted on the nations of Europe. If this 
be so they must have rejoiced when 

"The cup, which for others the proud golden city 
Had brimmed full of bitterness, drenched her own lips; 
When the world she had trampled on heard without pity 
The howl from her halls and the cry from her ships." 

During the terrible sieges with which Alaric invested Rome 
" the heaps of dead bodies, which there wanted space to bury, 



1889.] BOETHIUS. ' 35 

produced a pestilence. In vain the senate endeavored to nego- 
tiate a capitulation. Alaric scorned alike their money, their 
despair, their pride. When they spoke of their immense popu- 
lation, he burst out into laughter: 'The thicker the hay the 
easier it is mown.' On his demand of an exorbitant ransom 
' What, then, do you leave us?' the senate humbly inquired; 
1 Your lives,' was the reply of the insulting Goth." * 

In their agony and despair the Romans had recourse to a ter- 
rible expedient. They killed the slaves to feed the freemen. In 
every part of Rome shambles were opened in which human flesh 
was sold like beef Or mutton. A million of people were con- 
verted by want into a population of cannibals raging with hun- 
ger. As an exorbitant price was charged for this horrible spe- 
cies of food by the traffickers in human flesh, when the shout- 
ing populace crowded the amphitheatres to gaze on the Circen- 
sian games, which in spite of the general misery still went on, 
they assailed the ears of the emperor with the wild and start- 
ling cry, " Pone pretium carni humance ! " " Regulate the price of 
human flesh ! ' 

The capture of Rome by Alaric had a stupendous effect on 
the history of Europe. It may be said to have affected every na- 
tion in the known world. The pagan empire of Rome termi- 
nated. All that was great and powerful, all the opulent pa- 
tricians and eminent men, fled from the city and were scattered 
over the face of the earth. They could no longer live in Rome. 
The only powerful individual of native origin that remained in 
the capital was the Sovereign Pontiff. To use the words of Mil- 
man, " the capture of Rome by Alaric was one of the great steps 
by which the Pope rose to the plenitude of power." The tem- 
poral authority was transferred from native to foreign hands. 
The Goths settled as an armed aristocracy among a people who 
seemed content to purchase their security at the price of one- 
third of their possessions. The transfer was carried on with 
nothing of the violence and irregularity of confiscation, but with 
the utmost order and equity. It was in truth but a new form of 
the law of conquest which Rome had enforced first upon Italy 
and afterwards on the world. This conquest by the Goths re- 
sembled the Norman conquest of England. 

It was amid this state of things, after this revolution which 
transferred the sceptre of the Caesars to the hand and the crown 
to the head of Odoacer, that Boethius was born. The precise 

* Milman's Latin Christianity^ vol. i. p. 98. 
VOL. XLIX. 3 



36 BOETHIUS. [Apr., 

year has not been ascertained, but it seems to be certain that at an 
early period in life he was transferred to Athens, a city in which 
the study of philosophy had been at that period revived. His 
literary immortality may be attributed to this residence, which 
lasted eighteen years. Here he acquired that mastery of Greek 
and that intimate acquaintance with the doctrines of its philoso- 
phers which appears in every page of his wonderful book. He 
introduced a knowledge of those sages to all the western nations. 
If you find in every "article" of Thomas Aquinas citations from 
the Magister, you will also find that while the thoughts are Aris- 
totle's the language is Boethius's,* who devoted himself especially 
to the Stagirite, whose good sense and hard-headedness won his 
allegiance. There is no nonsense about this great thinker, and 
Boethius prized him on that account. Until this ardent disciple 
revealed Aristotle to the Latins they knew nothing of the Peri- 
patetic philosophy. It was his Latin versions which enabled 
them to study him. 

By means of his translations Boethius revealed to Western 
Europe the scientific mind of ancient Greece. He did not trans- 
late its literature Anacreon or Sophocles, Thucydides or Homer. 
Such is the magic influence, however, which the Greek intellect 
has always exercised over the rest of Europe, that the translations 
of Boethius were the early dawnings of a day which was to 
vivify, animate, and enlighten the entire intellect of Europe, to 
kindle a flame which should burn uninterruptedly for nine hun- 
dred years. " Through him," says Cassiodorus, " Pythagorus 
the musician, Ptolemy the astronomer, Euclid the geometer, 
Plato the theologian, Archimedes the mechanician, and Aristotle 
the logician learned to speak the Latin tongue." In this way he 
conferred on Europe immense benefits. 

Owing to the labors of Boethius the principles of Greek 
thought entered deep into the soul of European society at an 
early period. He quaffed from the pure and lucid fountains that 
still welled out in that gifted land, 

" Where the Attic bird 
Trilled her thick-warbled notes the summer long," 

those immortal principles that, interpenetrating his gifted mind, 

* " The dialectic art," says Brucker in his History of Philosophy, "was introduced by Latin 
versions of some of the writings of Aristotle and of Porphyry's Introduction to the Categories. 
The study of logical subtleties was pursued under these guides in the schools of the monasteries, 
particularly in Ireland, whence many scholars from England and Scotland carried this kind of 
philosophy into their own countries ; and from Britain it afterwards passed intp France and 
other parts of Europe." 



1889.] BOETJJIUS. 37 

run like veins of gold through all his writings. This service 
rendered to Europe has endeared his memory to the civilized 
world. Nor this atone ; the lustre of his genius, the solidity of 
his virtues, the extent of his acquirements, the value of the ser- 
vices he rendered to his king, and the crush of overwhelming 
calamity which in the broad noontide of his greatness fell like 
sudden night upon his head all these things have caused the 
reputation of Boethius to shine like a beacon-light through the 
long vista of successive ages. 

After his return to Rome his brilliant reputation and his 
elevated character attracted the attention of the soldier-king who 
then governed Italy and whose sceptre was a sword. Appointed 
by the senate to deliver in the presence of the monarch an ad- 
dress of congratulation, Theodoric discerned at a glance that 
Boethius was worthy of his patronage and capable of becoming 
an ornament of his administration. The comeliness of his- 
countenance, the brilliancy of his elocution, the purity of his dic- 
tion, the dignity of his bearing, and the elevation of his senti- 
ments secured the favor of the king. 

The superiority of Boethius lay in this, as the king soon dis- 
covered, that the virtues of his disposition were perfectly on a 
par with the endowments of his intellect. The admirable bal- 
ance of his emotional and intellectual nature was the source of 
his superiority. For, as Fichte observes, Unser Denksystem istoft 
nur die Geschichte unsers Herzen. Let us suppose for a moment 
that the mathematical proposition, " the three angles of a trian- 
gle are equal to two right angles," should counteract the gratifi- 
cation of lubricity or avarice ; what would be the consequence? 
Men like Henry Tudor or the Elector of Hesse would employ a 
thousand pens and a thousand pulpits to demonstrate day and 
night that this proposition is entirely erroneous, and that the 
three angles in question are greater or less than two right ones. 
The errors of the mind often originate in the passions of the 
heart. Boethius was never tempted to deviate into falsehood by 
solicitations of this nature. The Armida of passion never be- 
guiled this warrior of truth from the path of virtue, for the se- 
rene heaven of duty was ever reflected in the lucid mirror of his 
gifted mind. 

Theodoric possessed the penetration which is an essential ele- 
ment of genius; and, perusing Boethius with a penetrating eye, 
he saw into his worth and invested him with the high dignity of 
master of the palace, a situation which afforded him access to- 
the person of the monarch and endowed him. with, vast authority 



BOETHIUS. [Apr., 

in the state. In this position he labored assiduously to teach 
his sceptred pupil that difficult lesson, "The simple science, to 
be good." He evolved from the stores of his rich and cultivated 
intellect a system of government which was based on the strict- 
est principles of moral rectitude, and which in after-times man- 
tled the entire peninsula with an aftermath of content and pros- 
perity. Above all, he taught his sceptred pupil those generous 
principles of religious toleration which the arrogance of the 
nineteenth century would claim as peculiarly its own. He pre- 
vailed on this -royal disciple of Arius to respect the Catholic 
Church and refrain from persecuting Catholics, and even to ex- 
tend over its afflicted members the ample shield of imperial pro- 
tection. We have evidence of this in a letter which Theodorus 
addressed to Justin: "To pretend," says he, " to a dominion 
over the conscience is to usurp the prerogative of God. By the 
nature of things, the power of sovereigns is confined to political 
.government." 

If we contrast the spirit that breathes through this admirable 
iletter with the appalling practices of the imperial tyrants who 
organized the ten persecutions, and who in some instances light- 
ed the midnight thoroughfares with the burning bodies of living 
'.Christians wrapped in blazing envelopes of pitch in the centre 
of Rome, we shall have reason to believe with St. Augustine 
that the Goths were more civilized than the Romans they con- 
quered. 

Theodoric, who was at once the king and the pupil of Boethi- 
us, was persuaded by that statesman to patronize alike the fine 
arts and the natural sciences by recompensing with a liberal 
hand the men who devoted themselves to their cultivation. It 
was furthermore the darling object of Theodoric, by following 
the policy marked out by Boethius, to make his government 
" racy of the soil " and acceptable to the Roman people ; and this 
idea he realized in a great degree ; but while Theodoric was the 
mailed hand of authority, Boethius was the thinking mind of his 
administration. There was a great field thrown open for the ex- 
ercise of his talents in the administration of the kingdom. He 
prevailed on Theodoric to lessen taxation by economizing the 
finances and at the same time to attend carefully to the organiza- 
tion of his army, and by the perfection of its discipline to render 
it brilliant in display and effective in active service, and thus to 
preserve international peace by preparedness to make war. 
Above all, he insisted that all offices of the government should 
be confided to men of merit, as through their instrumentality he 



1889.] BOETHIUS. 39 

hoped to render the people obedient to the law, securing their 
respect for its representatives and rigorously punishing all trans- 
gressors. He taught Theodoric to be magnificent in the con- 
struction of public edifices and generous in maintaining those 
festive solemnities which filled the streets with holiday multi- 
tudes and which shed upon the government an air of majesty 
that awed discontent and silenced the murmurs of mutiny. The 
king exhausted the resources of royal favor in behalf of Boethi- 
us. The highest honors seemed insufficient to reward the states- 
man's merit and virtues. He was raised three times to the con- 
sulship, and on one occasion, in 510, he enjoyed this dignity 
without a colleague. 

The mind of Boethius was too capacious to confine itself ex- 
clusively to affairs of state or to profane literature. His ac- 
quirements comprehended theology. He was not only a great 
philosopher, he was also, according to Cassiodorus, the greatest 
theologian of his century. The work in which he combats the 
errors of Nestorius and Eutyches and vindicates the doctrine of 
the Trinity seems to support this judgment. The Bollandists 
consider him as a saint arfd have consecrated to his memory the 
23d of October. This is no wonder. Few men, even saints, 
combined in a more harmonious manner supernatural righteous- 
ness with natural benevolence of character. The strictest im- 
partiality distinguished his administration of the law. He em- 
ployed the great power he enjoyed with the king to enable him 
to do good. He loved to cast over the shrinking form of suffer- 
ing innocence the shield of his extensive authority. To relieve 
the poor, to console the suffering, to vindicate the wronged was 
the delight of his benevolent heart. As a consequence, he often 
awaked the furious indignation of guilty power, whose evil pur- 
poses, when intent on destroying innocence, he repeatedly foiled ; 
while his brilliant genius and extensive learning excited the 
deadly hatred of malignant envy. 

It is no exaggeration to say that the fall of Boethius was pro- 
duced bv his virtues. His brilliant abilities were unpardonable 
offences in the eyes of malevolent stupidity, which could not 
tolerate his intellectual supremacy, and which, thirsting for his 
blood, secretly swore to effect his destruction to ruin him, cost 
what it might. Had he winked at peculation, connived at injus- 
tice, allowed secret rapacity to pocket the public funds, and 
turned a deaf ear to the complaints of the oppressed, it is not 
impossible that stupid cupidity, which regards genius as its born 
enemy, might have tolerated his resplendent talents. But the 
unusual combination of a genius which was matchless associated 



40 BOETHIUS. [Apr., 

with moral qualities which were unimpeachable was too much 
for the patience of his enemies ; and, longing for his destruction, 
they determined to take his life. At the same time, the true 
character of the king, which the virtues of his minister had long 
held in subjection, revealed itself only too plainly. The monarch 
became with increasing years morose, suspicious, sullen, and, 
finally, ferocious. All who entered his presence were perused 
with sinister glances, scowling brows, and questioning looks, as if 
secretly suspected of treasonable designs. It gradually became 
only too obvious that the source of the virtues which had distin- 
guished the early part of his reign was the wisdom of Boethius. 
His vices were his own ; his merits those of his prime minister. 
Two men, Triguilla and Conigastus, seem to have crept into the 
confidence of the king and used their influence for their personal 
profit and the public disadvantage, but, above all, for the ruin of 
Boethius. At their suggestion, the corn produced in a year of 
scarcity was purchased by their agents, stored in the royal 
granaries, and sold to the indigent people at an exorbitant profit. 
The cries of the sufferers reached the ears of Boethius and 
wounded his sensitive spirit. He lost* no time in carrying them 
to the foot of the throne, where he described with his ordinary 
eloquence the grievances which the masses complained of. The 
devouring greediness of Triguilla met an obstacle in the vigilant 
benevolence of Boethius, who with the same hand frustrated the 
guilty schemes of Conigastus, ever contriving to augment his 
own possessions by confiscating the property of the rich. ^Act- 
ing in this benevolent manner and with this fearless independ- 
ence, Boethius incurred the anger of the king, and, owing to the 
slanderous misrepresentations of his malignant enemies, was ban- 
ished from the court and driven into exile. His masterly de- 
fence of the senate, when accused of conspiring to deliver Italy 
from the Gothic yoke, was stigmatized as treason. Had the 
opportunity been furnished to Boethius, had he been allowed in 
open court to defend himself, he would have swept away the 
calumnies with which he was assailed and vindicated his loyalty 
and integrity in the most triumphant manner. But, unfor- 
tunately, the king, determined not to be convinced, would not 
give him a hearing. He was condemned unheard ; and, equally 
absent and innocent, was banished to Pavia and buried, in a 
prison, where he wrote his admirable book, De Consolatione Philo- 
sophies. It is the most beautiful work we are acquainted with, 
and has often brought tears to our eyes. When he sees Philoso- 
phy entering his cell, as he tells us he did, in the form of a 
female graced with dazzling beauty, with every charm that can 



.] BO&THIUS. 4 1 

adorn female loveliness, radiant with angelic fascinations, he is 
lost in astonishment and cannot believe his senses. 

"* Is it possible- that you, descending from the heights of heaven and 
brilliant as the morning star, can condescend to visit the stony dungeon 
in which I languish away my days ? Is this possible ? . . .' 

" ' Do you suppose for a moment that I could desert you,' answers the 
lady, 'that I could hesitate to share in the sufferings which you, my dis- 
ciple, have incurred on my account ? Would it not be culpable on the 
part of Philosophy to allow innocence to tread the paths of adversity un- 
accompanied by a friend ? Could I fear myself to be incriminated, or 
shudder at calumny as something strange ? Is this, forsooth, the first time 
that Philosophy has been subjected to ignominious treatment by oppro- 
brious hands ? Oh, no ! persecution is nothing new to Philosophy, as you 
must be well aware.' 

In confirmation of this view she goes on to describe the tor- 
tures of Zeno, the flight of Anaxagoras, the poisoned chalice of 
Socrates, and the agony and suicide of Seneca. The displea- 
sure which they excite in the minds of the bad is the ruin of phil- 
osophers. They are subjected to persecution to gratify the 
jealous intolerance of Vice. This alone is the cause of their 
calamities. In short, the sufferings of her disciples are the op- 
probrium of the human race. 

Boethius in his reply contrasts the squalid raiment in which 
he is attired, the stony walls of the dismal jail in which he is 
incarcerated, with the cheerful and elegant library in which he 
was accustomed to receive the visits of Philosophy, when, taking 
him by the hand and pointing her radiant finger to the skies, she 
explained to him the courses of the stars, the splendors of the 
celestial spheres, the majesty of the stellar zones, and the mys- 
teries of the broad and boundless universe the fairy tales of 
science and the long results of time. 

*' Here, here, O beautiful goddess ! " he exclaims, " here in this dungeon, 
within this gloomy prison, here I have the reward which strict obedience 
to your precepts has procured me ! Look, look at me ! This is what it is to 
serve you, to comply with every precept which issues from 'your perfumed 
lips. This is what it is to be your disciple, devoted to your worship, and 
ever amenable to your will ! Look at me, thus buried in misery ! And yet 
you in the most emphatic manner stamped witli your approval the opinion of 
Plato, that kingdoms must be happy should philosophers be ever their 
kings, or their kings be ever philosophers. . . . You, and the Divinity who 
inspires wisdom into human minds, are my witnesses and will bear this 
testimony to me, that my on.ly object in administering public affairs was 
the promotion of the public welfare. Hence, in the maintenance of justice, 
my profound contempt for the rage of the powerful, and the fierce and 
implacable discord which sprang up between me and those bad men who 
worked their wantonness with form of law or without it. How often have 



42 BOETHIUS. [Apr., 

I opposed and baffled the wicked schemes of Conigastus when trampling 
on the rights and appropriating the property of the powerless ? How 
often have I frustrated the culpable projects of Triguilla prefect of the 
palace and rent his prey from his jaws ? How often have I protected the 
powerless when tortured and fleeced by the devouring greediness of the 
Goths ? Never have I deviated from the paths of justice, never been se- 
duced into the crooked by-ways of wrong. . . . When greedy monopolists 
hastily bought up the corn and hoarded it in granaries, in order to sell it 
again, at an exorbitant profit, to the perishing people, I withstood those 
merciless speculators, and though the king himself connived at their delin- 
quencies, I succeeded in defeating them. . . . Have I not called up the 
storm of hostility which has burst upon my head by my conduct when in 
office ? " 

This dialogue with Philosophy is part of that work, De Conso- 
latione Philosophies, which is one of the few great books of the 
world, ranking with the Iliad and the City of God. 

The death of Boethius was accompanied by horrible circum- 
stances. A cord was wound round his head and twisted with 
such force that his eyes almost started from their sockets. He 
was then beaten to death with clubs. When it was too late the 
king returned to himself and, racked by remorse, would have 
given worlds to restore his victim to life. He seemed to be perse- 
cuted by the Furies, who, according to the creed ot the ancients, 
pursue the perpetrators of crime with screams of vengeance, 
rage in their flaming eyes, and snakes hissing in their dishevelled 
hair. The guilty wretch trembled at their fancied approach, 
wandering through his palace with hoarse and inarticulate vocif- 
erations. In addition to -this, he saw the head of his victim rise 
in the middle of his supper-table, ghastly pale and smeared with 
blood, threatening him with fearful menaces of eternal retribu- 
tion, penal fires that should endure for all eternity. The atten- 
dants of the palace stood silent with awe and astonishment, gaz- 
ing upon this terrible tragedy, which terminated in the exhaus- 
tion of Theodoric, who finally fell senseless on the floor, with 
foam on his ghastly lips and terror in his disordered counte- 
nance. They carried him to his bed-room, where after a few 
days he died of grief. 

As Boethius was one of the teachers of the human race, we 
shall conclude this article with the well-known words of Carlyle: 

"The world, we fear, has shown but small favor to its teachers ; hunger 
and nakedness, peril and reviling, the prison and the poisoned chalice, 
have in most times and countries been the market-price it has offered for 
wisdom, the welcome with which it has treated those who have come to 
enlighten and improve it." 

CHRISTOPHER M. O'KEEFFE. 



1889.] HUMAN NATURE. 43 



HUMAN NATURE. 

ALMOST every one knows that saying of Pope : 
" The proper study of mankind is man." 

The study is interesting-, but it is difficult. Socrates made 
the maxim " Know thyself" the starting-point of the new Attic 
philosophy. This is easier said than done. Mankind have 
studied man without arriving at a solution of the problems of 
human nature which is accepted by universal consent. Theories 
respecting human nature oscillate between two extremes : one 
which exalts it to the summit of divinity, another which sinks it 
to the lowest level of vileness. Observation shows us, in point 
of fact, phenomena so numerous and various in the history of 
mankind, that optimists and pessimists alike, can make their 
darkest or their brightest views plausible. The circle of hu- 
manity includes within its round a number of figures in whom 
physical, intellectual, and moral beauty approach so near to that 
ideal of perfection which we are able to imagine, that by com- 
mon consent we pay them homage. Above, but yet among 
these figures are those of the Virgin Mary and Jesus Christ, one 
purely human, the other truly human as well as divine ; present- 
ing to us specimens of humanity, not only approaching but 
really exhibiting ideal perfection. 

The same circle includes other figures, in whom physical de- 
formity, intellectual degradation, moral vileness appear to us as 
if embodied in monsters, the creation of some malignant demi- 
urge, the offspring of an Ahriman. 

In all these, and in all the intermediate grades of human 
beings which lie between the highest and lowest, the best and 
the worst, there is the same human essence. All are of one 
species, of one descent, with one common human nature, which 
is the subject of all these different qualities, the substance of all 
these accidents, the vital principle of all these growths and oper- 
ations. Can the same fountain send forth both sweet water and 
bitter? This is the enigma, more puzzling than the one proposed 
by the Sphinx to CEdipus. 

Why, then, venture to approach this cruel Sphinx ? Is it not 
presumptuous to offer a solution of such a riddle ? Certainly, 
it would be so if any theory were proposed as a new discovery 
in the purely rational domain of philosophy, and on the lines 



44 HUMAN NATURE. [Apr., 

i 

followed by Plato and Aristotle. The great philosophers have 

not been, however, altogether vain in their speculations. They 
cast some light on the nature of man and his purpose in the 
world. Revelation and the Catholic faith cast a brighter light 
on the objects which the light of nature leaves in deep ob- 
scurity. There is not, indeed, a complete scientific anthropology 
revealed in explicit terms. The truths and facts explicitly re- 
vealed, and those which are implicitly contained in the divine 
revelation, do, nevertheless, virtually involve many inferences 
which reason, using its own proper rational principles as minor 
premises, can draw forth into distinct conclusions. Combining 
and arranging these conclusions with all those which can be 
gained by purely rational philosophy, Catholic theologians are 
able to construct an anthropology which contains all that is 
best in the systems of the great pagan philosophers, perfected 
and completed by the aid of the brighter light of faith. Strictly 
speaking, in so far as it extends beyond the limits of definite 
Catholic doctrine, it is only rational philosophy, since conclusions 
must always follow the weaker premise. Therefore, it is not to 
be expected that there should be in all respects perfect agree- 
ment and unanimous consent among its competent teachers. 
Where they differ, the studious inquirer must choose prudently 
for himself that which seems to him the most reasonable and 
probable conclusion or theory. This is supposing that he pro- 
ceeds from Catholic principles, and according to the Catholic 
method. It is only from this point of view that I intend, at pre- 
sent, to argue, setting forth what I arn convinced is the best ac- 
count of human nature to be found in the anthropology of Catho- 
lic philosophers of acknowledged authority. I shall therefore 
take for granted everything which a well-instructed Catholic 
ought to hold with a firm assent as certainly true, and endeavor 
to help his faith in seeking to understand what is most obscure 
in the question of human nature. 

Human nature is one department of universal nature, and 
more particularly of organic nature on the earth. It has uni- 
versal and particular relations, connecting it with the cosmos 
and all its parts, more or less nearly or remotely. In respect to 
\\isgenus, man is an animal, having an organized body animated 
by a vital principle of vegetative and sensitive life. As such, he 
is closely related to the other organic, living beings on the earth, 
both vegetable and animal, and to all corporeal, inorganic na- 
ture. As an animal, man is superior on the whole to all other 
animals, although in certain particulars he is inferior to some of 



1889.] HUMAN NATURE. 45 

the more perfect species. He is the masterpiece of creation on 
the earth, and its natural lord, to whom, for his use and benefit, 
all other creatures on its surface are, in a general sense, subor- 
dinate. His bodily constitution is complex and marvellous, in 
its adaptation to all the operations of the organic life, both vege- 
tative and sensitive, which is given to it by the soul, its compart 
in substantial unity of essence. It is still more wonderful in its 
fitness to subserve those vital operations of the soul which are 
above the organic acts of the human composite. 

For, in respect to his species, man is a rational animal. 
Rationality is his specific difference, distinguishing his nature 
from that of all other animals in which the vital principle has no 
capacity beyond the limit of the organic, sensitive life of the 
animal composite. Even the organic, sensitive life of human 
nature is perfected and elevated by the presence of rationality. 
The essence is one, the nature, which is identical with the 
essence and only distinguished from it as expressing its relations 
and laws of action, is one ; the man, considered both as animal 
and as rational, is one and individual, although the unity is com- 
posite and binary; his nature is a whole, having parts substan- 
tially distinct and heterogeneous, one corporeal, the other spirit- 
ual. The corporeal part itself is extremely composite, though 
organically one. The spiritual part is simple, though as a vital 
principle it is virtually equivalent to three, as being a principle 
of vegetative, sensitive, and rational life in the same subject. 

The human soul is a spirit, immaterial, simple, indivisible, 
existing in itself, not derived from the body or dependent on it 
for its subsistence and operation, a substance immediately created 
by God, having intelligence and will, indestructible, immortal. 
It is, nevertheless, by itself incomplete, having a capacity and 
an exigency to animate an organized body, by which its essence 
is completed. By the vital, substantial union of the two incom- 
plete substances, the human nature is constituted. This is the 
description of man as a rational animal. He is called rational 
rather than intellectual, because his intellect acts more by rea- 
soning than by intuition. 

Human nature is a very singular thing which we cannot 
attentively consider without astonishment. It combines opposite 
extremes, spirit and matter, that which is highest and that 
which is lowest in the scale of being, mud and celestial fire, 
death and life, the corruptible and the immortal, the instincts of 
the brute with the aspirations of the angel. 

Evidently, man is in the lowest place which can be filled by 



46 HUMAN NATURE. [Apr., 

an intelligent being. He is, at the beginning of his existence, in 
a condition similar to that of the germinating plant and animal, 
and in infancy is totally ignorant and incapable of rational 
thought or volition. When he begins to think, his intellect can 
only act on the object furnished to it by sensible cognition, and 
from this first foothold it must ascend, step by step, towards its 
highest attainable summit. 

In his physical constitution man is entirely helpless during 
infancy, very liable to injury during all his life, and subject 
to the same law of gradual decay and death which "prevails 
throughout the entire kingdom of organic life on the earth. 

Tn consequence of his dual and composite essence as a rational 
animal, man is like a swimmer whose body is in the water, and 
whose head is in the air. By his organic life he is immersed in 
the sensible world, by his intellect he is raised above it into the 
ideal atmosphere, the element in which pure spirits soar on the 
wings of intelligence. 

The human intellect virtually possesses all the first principles 
of necessary and eternal truth, and the capacity of understanding 
the phenomena and facts of the sensible world apprehended 
through the senses. It is capable of a rational education and 
development, in which the lower, organic life is subordinated to 
the higher faculties of the mind, which is supreme by natural 
right. Its natural attitude and propensity is toward the truth, 
its proper object. The will is enlightened by the intellect and 
necessarily follows it by a complacency in the good, and a spon- 
taneous effort to attain it. By virtue of its free, intrinsic power 
of self-motion, it can determine itself in its choice and pursuit of 
particular objects which present some aspect of good to the in- 
tellect, in so far as it is not determined by nature. 

On the other hand, the sensitive nature has its own passions 
and propensities, and is both impelled and attracted toward 
material objects within the sphere of the animal life. The 
rational part of the soul has no absolute and despotic coercive 
power over its inferior vital movements, but only a regulative, 
and, as it were, constitutional government. Hence, there is an 
internal struggle for life between the reason and the senses, in 
which the animal may get the upperhand of the rational, and 
man become subject to a development, or rather a deterioration, 
which is the opposite of that upward progress which leads him 
towards his true ideal perfection. Instead of ascending toward 
the intellectual, the celestial, the divine, he can sink down into 
the sensual, the beastly, the infernal. His inordinate passions 



.] HUMAN NATURE. 47 

are like those of swine, tigers, and serpents. He becomes sen- 
sual, ferocious, treacherous. 

The rational nature itself is liable to perversion through 
error, pride, and self-love, even though the intellectual faculties 
are highly developed and cultivated. 

When we examine human nature in the concrete, that is, in 
the actual multitude of individuals of the human race who have 
lived and manifested in their character and actions the essence 
and qualities of their common humanity, its typical character 
must be sought for in the most perfect specimens. Wherever 
the environment is the best adapted to the human species, where 
it exists in its native, uncorrupted purity, where it has been 
developed under favorable circumstances, there it best corre- 
sponds to the first intention of its creator. In its typical perfec- 
tion, the human face and figure present the highest form of 
beauty conceivable by the imagination of man, and, indeed, it is 
from this real model that our ideal conceptions are derived. 
They may be somewhat enhanced by the idealizing of art, but 
not really transcended. If we wish to represent angels or gods 
we can only reproduce the human form, with an effort more or 
less successful at a kind of glorification. Frail and easily 
blighted this beauty is, for the seeds of mortality are in it, as in 
all the fairest flowers and richest fruits of earth. But during the 
short period in which it is free from the touch of the effacing 
fingers of decay, it gives a hint and a premonition of what an 
incorruptible form may be. 

What human intellects have become and have achieved, 
purely in virtue of their natural development and activity, and 
allowing for all the limitations and shortcomings of the most ex- 
cellent human genius and effort, is it not recorded in the 
chronicles of the human race, and in the books of all the kings of 
men ? 

In the domain of character, in the order of virtue and mor- 
ality, in admirable and lovable traits and deeds, the picture- 
gallery of history presents many portraits and scenes delightful 
to look upon. 

On the other and darker side, human nature presents a sad 
spectacle of the extremes of physical, intellectual, and moral de- 
formity into which it is liable to degenerate. The great mass of 
mankind, in the middle position between the two extremes, pre- 
sents an aspect so mixed and variable that it is difficult to make a 
judgment of the average and ordinary condition of human 
nature, in respect to the relative proportions of good and evil in 



48 HUMAN NATURE. [Apr., 

the physical, intellectual, and moral order. The spectacle is 
very confusing 1 . There is no doubt that sin, error, ignorance, 
and misery have prevailed extensively, always and everywhere. 
Whence comes the evil that is in the world, and especially moral 
evil? Is there a positive and substantial principle of evil in 
nature, and particularly in human nature? Many have been 
driven to the conclusion that there is, and under various forms 
the doctrine affirming the existence of an evil principle, intrinsi- 
cally and essentially opposite to the essential good of being, is 
found in divers systems of philosophy and theology. 

This doctrine is absurd and unthinkable. For being and 
good are identical, and their opposite is pure nothing. Besides, 
a Christian must acknowledge that the origin of all being is in 
God, whose perfections are imitated in all creatures and all 
causes and effects in creation. The only opposition between un- 
created and created being is that of the infinite and the finite. 
Because he is infinite God is absolutely and unchangeably good, 
without any limitation, any possibility of increase or decrease in 
goodness. It is only another way of saying the same thing, to 
affirm that God is by his essence incapable of sin or suffering. 
Evil in creatures is a purely negative quantity, a limitation to 
their being, a lack of some more good than that which they actu- 
ally have ; and moral evil is a deficiency from the good which a 
rational creature ought to effect by his free will. Irrational 
creatures are moved toward their end by natural and irresistible 
laws, and they have just that kind and degree of perfection 
which God chooses to give them. Their lack of different or 
greater perfection is no evil, and all the deficiency which can 
be reasonably regarded as a shortcoming of nature from that ex- 
cellence and order which are due to it, according to an ideal 
standard and a rational theory of what it ought to be, is merely 
an accident of its inchoate condition, a temporary phase in its 
progressive development. Rational creatures, who are placed in 
a state of moral discipline and probation, have a cognition of 
their end, and are obliged to move towards it voluntarily, not 
under the law of a necessary determination, but by a free choice 
and use of the means placed within their reach. Herein lies 
their liability to sin. For among all the particular objects which 
surround and solicit them, all of which have some good in them 
which gives them a desirable appearance, they may choose 
those which will not help them toward their true end and chief 
good, but will turn them away from it. Sin consists in the 
choice of an inferior or apparent good, against the dictates of 



1889.] HUMAN NATURE. 49 

reason, conscience, and the law of God. It is,. so to speak, a de- 
railing on the track between the station of departure and the 
station of arrival. Moral evil is a deordination in a rational 
nature which is essentially good, but misdirected and wandering 
from its due course. 

Freedom of choice, in a rational creature who is in an incho- 
ate and imperfect condition, allowing of error in the mind, and 
perversion of the will, in respect to desirable and eligible objects, 
sufficiently accounts for all the sin and moral evil in the uni- 
verse. There is no need of referring it to a positively evil nature 
as its source and origin, and such a nature is inconceivable. 
Holy angels sinned and fell, Adam and Eve sinned, men who 
have received the gift of regeneration together with abundant 
actual grace are continually sinning. The prevalence of sin in 
the world is, therefore, no proof that human nature is depraved, 
and that men as they are now born are under a law which 
necessarily determines them to sin, much less renders them in- 
capable of doing anything except sinning, as Calvinists maintain. 
. The bodily part of human nature is not evil, and contains no 
evil principle within it. The union of soul and body is not ab- 
normal, but is constitutive of the very essence of humanity as a 
species. The organic structure of the body, its qualities, powers, 
passions, are all good in their order, which is physical and not 
moral. The soul is an immediate creation of God, and as such 
can have nothing in it but good. As a rational principle it con- 
tains virtually all the elements of truth, an inclination toward ra- 
tional good, and the power of free will which gives it dominion 
over its acts. The principles of sensitive and vegetative life 
which it contains, and by virtue of which it is fitted to be the 
form and vital force of the body, are a part of its essence. Its 
integral nature is completed by the body, and by the substantial 
union of both in one personality man is constituted in his per- 
fection as a rational animal. 

During his infancy man is not actually rational, and his acts 
can have no moral character whatever. It is therefore absurd 
to say that he must or that he can sin, while an infant, though he 
can be exceedingly disagreeable. It is only when he has acquir- 
ed the use of reason that he enters into the moral order and be- 
comes subject to the moral law. This law is reasonable and just, 
and if man has free-will as an attribute of his pure nature, he 
must be able to keep it, to do acts which are virtuous and to ac- 
quire habits of virtue. Moreover, the mind and will are natur- 
ally inclined to seek that which is true and that which is good. 



50 HUMAN NATURE.^ [Apr., 

- 

But what then is the cause of the prevalence of moral evil? 
There is another question prior to this. Why is there any moral 
evil ? How did sin have a beginning? We may retort by ask- 
ing why does not sin prevail exclusively and universally? The 
answer must be, because there is no force or law which compels 
rational creatures to sin. In like manner we can account for all 
the sins which they have committed by saying that there is no 
law or force which compels them to do right, which determines 
their choice, in those cases where they are left free to choose be- 
tween right and wrong. Free-will accounts for all acts which 
are morally good, and as well for all those which are morally 
bad, in so far as it is left in equilibrium under the dominion of its 
own self-determining power. It would seem to be a sufficient 
reason accounting for any general prevalence of sin assumed to 
exist among rational creatures in a state of probation, that the 
path of virtue is rough and up-hill, while the way of sin is appar- 
ently smooth and down-hill. 

In the case of man, the union of an immortal spirit with an 
animal and mortal body makes the exercise of dominion by rea- 
son and free-will a very arduous task. There is a want of har- 
mony between the spirit and the senses, the rational and animal 
parts of the complex nature. The senses spontaneously and 
blindly desire sensible good, i.e., the gratification of the pas- 
sions. The superior soul has also its appetites, seeking after 
higher good, knowledge, power, glory, whatever else is pleasing 
to self-love. These various and often opposing impulses are not 
placed and kept in order and under direction by any law of na- 
ture, nor can they control themselves. When they are inordinate 
they are vicious propensities. It is the duty of free-will, enlight- 
ened by reason, whose practical judgments are what we call the 
dictates of conscience, to reduce them to order, to exercise disci- 
pline over them, and to direct them rightly toward the purpose 
of life. But the light of reason in men generally is more or less 
dim, the will is more or less weak, and the consequence is, that 
one or more of the passions may gain the upper hand and draw 
the will into sin. 

The environment in which human nature is placed is one 
which in many respects is favorable to the senses and unfavor- 
able to the higher aspirations and faculties of the soul. 

It is a just conclusion from all this, that human nature is not 
in that condition and in those relations which ought to exist, if 
the Creator had intended to leave it to itself in the state of pure 
nature, under a law of purely natural development, in a purely 



.] HUMAN NATURE. 51 

natural order, for a final end and destination not transcending 
the capacity and exigency of its specific essence. The state and 
order of pure nature is one which is merely hypothetical, and it 
has to be described as a possibility only, by the help of analogies, 
and to some extent by suppositions which are no more than plau- 
sible conjectures. 

The hypothesis of a state of pure nature supposes that God 
might have made man at the beginning a rational animal, with- 
out any endowments above those which are simply due to his 
specific nature, for a purpose proportioned to his nature, in an 
environment and under a law adapted to this purpose, with a 
capacity, and the means, of knowing, pursuing, and attaining by 
the due exercise of reason and free-will, an ultimate perfection 
and felicity in which the end of his creation would be fulfilled. 

In such a state, the chief purpose of human life on the earth 
would be the intellectual and moral discipline and education of 
human nature for a higher, supermundane state of existence, by the 
acquisition and exercise of wisdom and virtue. It is plain that the 
end of life could not be contained in the earthly period of human 
existence, since it is not perpetual, but in its very nature transi- 
tory for each individual and for the whole species. The desti- 
nation and final state of human nature must correspond to the 
immortality of the soul. Union with a corruptible and mortal 
body, and subjection to the vicissitudes and miseries of such a 
life as the present one is, and even in its best conceivable condi- 
tion must be, cannot be thought of except as a temporary and 
inchoate mode of existence for a rational and immortal spirit. 
It appeared to Aristotle so incongruous, that, not being satisfied 
with Plato's theory, and being unable to solve the problem in 
any other way, he gave it up. Plato's theory was, that human 
souls had fallen from a higher, celestial sphere of being, and were 
embodied as a punishment. If they ever became purified from 
all vicious dross by acquiring wisdom and virtue, they would be 
restored eventually to their pristine dignity and happiness. It 
is, however, of the very essence of man to be a rational animal and 
not a pure spirit. It cannot, therefore, be a disastrous, abnormal 
condition of the human rational soul, to be united with a body. 
Union with a ;/*0rta/ body is, indeed, incompatible with that felicity 
toward which an immortal spirit necessarily aspires, and there- 
fore the notion of a state of natural beatitude implies union of 
the soul with an incorruptible, indestructible body fit to share its 
immortality. In this ideal state, the soul possesses through the 
senses an innocent enjoyment of sensitive life and sensible good, 

VOL. XLIX. 4 



52 HUMAN NATURE. [Apr., 

in communion with universal nature, without any liability to pain 
or accident. The faculties of the spirit are developed and per- 
fected, the intellect has before it all the marvels of the universe 
and the boundless realm of Truth, the will is immovably fixed in 
the love of the Good, the society of a multitude of intelligent and 
perfect beings affords the continual and unwearying delight of 
pure love and friendship. Above all, there is a contemplation of 
God, in his works and in the burnished mirror of the mind, the 
highest and most perfect of which a rational creature in his natu- 
ral condition is capable. The natural desire and exigency for 
happiness is satisfied and rests content in this state of felicity 
which can never be lost or diminished, without any aspiration for 
transcending its limits and rising to the sphere of supernatural 
beatitude. 

If God had created man in a state of pure nature, with the in- 
tention of leading him on by the discipline and education of 
purely natural wisdom and virtue in this life, to a final state of 
natural beatitude, it is certain that the moral order of provi- 
dence, and the environment of the human species in this world, 
would have been very different from what they actually are. 
There must have been a more equal proportion between them 
and the weak, unstable capacity of reason and will in human na- 
ture left to itself and its unaided efforts. The actual dispropor- 
tion between the infirmity of human nature and a sustained, 
complete achievement in the line of effort toward the acquisition 
of wisdom and virtue, has been recognized with wonder and sad- 
ness by all philosophers. Plato, the most sublime of all heathen 
sages, opens his philosophical heaven only to a chosen few, the 
elect of mankind. 

In fact, human nature, taking the best aspect of it apart from 
the regenerating and transforming effects of divine grace, shows 
itself as something which has more of the childish capacity of be- 
ing formed and led by a power above itself, than of the .manly 
power of self-government and independent action. There is 
more passive potency in it than active power, more suscepti- 
bility than energy. It is like the lion as Milton describes him 
at the creation, half formed, and half still unformed clay, strug- 
gling to extricate himself and become complete. 

This incompleteness, lack of integrating and co-ordinating 
unity, interior strife of contending impulses, and inharmonious 
relation to the world around him, suggested to Plato his notion 
of three souls, the rational, irascible, and sensual, and his theory 
that the residence of the rational soul in the body is an imprison- 



1889.] HUMAN NATURE. 53 

ment, the consequence and penalty of sin committed in a prior 
state of existence. 

AH merely human philosophy and speculation upon the 
character, condition, and destiny of man, has disquieted itself in 
vain efforts to decipher these hieroglyphs, for which they had 
no key. 

The entire aspect and attitude of human nature presents 
phenomena and facts, attested by all history, by universal 
consciousness, by every kind of philosophy and religion, which 
compel the conclusion, or at least justify the assumption, that 
some disaster befell mankind at its origin. All indicate an ab- 
normal, irregular condition, a perturbation of order, a disturb- 
ance in the orbit of revolution. 

Christian theology furnishes the explanation. In the first in- 
tention of the Creator, and in his original state, man was much 
more perfect through the endowments superadded to his 
essential attributes, than the mere exigency of pure nature de- 
mands. Human nature was integrated in a harmony of soul and 
body, of reason and the senses, of the organic structure and its 
environment, which exempted it from accident, suffering and 
death. The precious jewel of sanctifying grace was placed in a 
costly setting befitting its priceless value and beauty. When the 
grace was lost, the gilt of integrity was also forfeited, and it was 
not restored when redemption and pardon were promised. 
Adam and Eve, though reconciled and forgiven, were neverthe- 
less driven out of paradise into a world blighted by a divine 
malediction. The interior harmony of human nature and the 
correspondence between human nature and its environment 
were impaired, though not destroyed, by the disorder intro- 
duced by the original sin through which mankind in the person 
of its head fell from the state of supernatural grace and natural 
integrity into a worse condition, a lapsed, despoiled, and de- 
nuded, though not an essentially, positively depraved and evil 
state. This lapsed state has many analogies with the possible state 
of pure nature, and yet it falls under a totally diverse category. 
In the hypothesis of a state of pure nature, there is a due pro- 
portion between the faculties of reason and free-will and the final 
destination of man, the moral law and order in which he is to 
achieve its attainment, and the whole environment of his rational 
and animal life. In the actual state of human nature, the des- 
tination of man is supernatural, the moral order and the vital en- 
vironment into which he is born are arranged in view of this 
supernatural destiny and subordinated to it. Consequently, the 



54 HUMAN NATURE. [Apr., 

lapsed human nature, deprived of grace and integrity, is out of 
proportion to the law given to man in his pristine elevation and 
rectitude, incapable of regaining its lost gifts, rising out of its 
fallen condition, and meriting everlasting life by the exercise of 
its native powers. 

How, then, is it just to command men to keep a law which is 
above their power? It would be unjust, if grace were not 
offered, giving power to do all that is commanded. Men cannot, 
by the exercise of merely natural reason and free-will, elicit acts 
of supernatural and saving faith, hope, and love, and are not 
obliged to do so. But, aided by prevenient and concomitant 
grace, they can elicit those acts which are necessary in order to 
receive sanctifying grace, and then, ever afterwards, aided by 
actual graces, they can keep the whole law, perform meritorious 
works, persevere to the end, and thus win final salvation. 
Moreover, they are able to go far beyond the limits of that 
virtue and those good works which are strictly indispensable, to 
acquire and practise heroic virtue, to attain a high perfection in 
sanctity, and to accomplish wonders of endurance and action. 
The highest' end, capacity, and achievement of human nature is 
to be found in the supernatural .order, wherein nature regen- 
erated, elevated, directed, and aided by grace, becomes godlike in 
character and operation and is exalted to a divine sphere. Its 
ideal perfection and dignity are most completely and sublimely 
exhibited in the Blessed Virgin Mary in so far as human nature 
is considered apart from the hypostatic union with the divine 
nature in the person of Jesus Christ. In that ineffable union, 
human nature attains the summit of glory, ascends the throne of 
universal dominion, and is deified. Notwithstanding its low 
origin and the mixture of earthly elements in its composition, 
human nature must be therefore regarded as the Creator's mas- 
terpiece, and as holding the first place in the hierarchy of intellec- 
tual creatures. Indeed, its low grade as a kind of link between 
the animal and spiritual orders of creation, its inchoate and ger- 
minal condition at the beginning of life, its general incomplete- 
ness and imperfection on all sides, make of the human essence 
the most suitable term and subject of divine grace. In the 
words of an anonymous writer, * " Placed in the confines of the 
kingdoms of spirit and matter, first in the corporeal hierarchy 
and last in the intellectual, gathering up in himself as it were all 
nature which is below him, and entering through his reasonable 
faculties into the intellectual order which is above him and 

* Dublin Review^ August, 1860, p. 438. 



1889.] HUMAN NATURE. 5S 

which ascends even to God, the infinite centre of all beings, the 
summit to which each after its measure tends ; man, the link 
which unites these two orders of creation, on one side touches 
earth, and stretches toward heaven on the other ; on one side is 
drawn downwards towards the abyss, on the other aspires 
heavenwards even to the possession of God himself." 

It is free-will which determines the upward or the downward 
movement. Human nature, under all the influences and with all 
the advantages of the environment of grace, has taken the down- 
ward as well as the upward direction. The development of evil 
has gone on side by side with the development of good since 
the creation of man, and the earth has been the theatre of the in- 
cessant conflict between heaven and hell. On the same line of 
probation, some have made themselves good, others have made 
themselves wicked, and the two sorts have been mixed together. 
Abel and Cain, St. John and Judas, St. Athanasius and Arius, 
St. Ignatius and Photius, St. Louis and Philip the Fair, Alfred 
and Henry VIII., B. John Fisher and Cranmer, Montalembert 
and Gambetta, Garcia Moreno and Garibaldi, are some of the 
many types which might be selected to represent these two 
classes of men, who, from the same seed, in the same soil, under 
the same atmosphere and a similar cultivation, have, by their 
self-active vital operation on their own elements and capacities 
grown into such opposite characters. All sin, therefore, and the 
ruin of all those who are finally impenitent, must be ascribed to 
human free-will as the efficient and responsible cause, and not to 
nature, or the Author of nature. Men are liable to sin by nature, 
and God leaves them free to sin, but they are not determined 
to sin except by their own free-will, and are not doomed to final 
misery unless they doom themselves by walking in the path of 
perdition to that fixed term from which no return is possible. 

The origin of all sin from free-will is most clearly seen in the 
case of those who have sinned under circumstances the most 
favorable for making a right choice. It is seen in the angels 
who fell, although their natural excellence and gifts were so ex- 
alted and their supernatural graces were so sublime and abun- 
dant. It is seen in Adam and Eve, who, in proportion to their 
nature and position, were in equally favorable circumstances. 
It is also seen in those who enjoy the most excellent and abun- 
dant means of grace in that way of salvation which God has pro- 
vided for men through the redemption, and who nevertheless 
sin most grievously and become heinous criminals. 

It is not so clear in the case of others, who are in less favorable 



56 HUMAN NATURE. [Apr., 

circumstances; and the nearer their condition approaches to the 
lowest term of ignorance, degradation, and misery, which is the 
actual state of a portion of mankind, the more difficult it is to see 
any proportion between their rational and moral power and the 
natural law by which they are bound. 

Individual men are not actually bound, however, by the na- 
tural law, except by reason of this very proportion which is in 
question, and according to the measure of the approach to an 
equation between its terms. Infants and idiots are not in the 
least bound by it. So far as ignorance and intellectual weakness 
bring any classes of men to a level with infants and idiots, so 
far they are imperfectly or not at all responsible. So far as they 
are not morally responsible, their material sins and vices are phy- 
sically but not morally evil, like blindness, lameness, deformity, 
stupidity, and similar defects. If knowledge of the law is pres- 
ent, and the voice of conscience is heard, commanding or forbid- 
ding the right and the wrong, in so far as this knowledge is par- 
tial and imperfect, the moral obligation is limited. No one is 
bound to do more than to obey the dictates of his conscience, 
according to his ability. Human nature is indeed infirm in re- 
spect to those virtuous acts which are difficult and in respect to 
a perfect obedience to conscience for a long time and to the end 
of life. But the common and special graces which are given to 
all are sufficient in every single case and for the whole period of 
probation. 

St. Paul has presented the very darkest side of human nature 
and the history of man in sombre colors and deep shadows. But 
he explicitly refers all moral evil to the abuse of free-will by men 
and measures it by the degree of light and grace against which 
they have sinned. " The wrath of God is revealed from heaven 
against all ungodliness and unrigliteousness of men who hold down the 
truth in unrighteousness ; because that which may be known of God is 
manifest to them ; for God manifested it unto them . . . so that they 
are without excuse. . . . Tribulation and anguish upon every soul of 
man that worketh evil, of the Jew first and also of the Greek ; but glory 
and honor and peace to every man that worketh good, to the Jew first 
and also to the Greek, for there is no respect of persons with God. . . . 
For when Gentiles' who have no laiv do by nature the things of the 
law, these, having no law, are a laiv unto themselves ; in that they 
show the work of the law written in their hearts" (Rom. i. 18; ii. 
15). If we take this first principle of the equal and impartial 
justice and benevolence of God towards all men, those who are 
under the revealed law, and those who are under the natural law, 



.] HUMAN NATURE. 57 

as a clue, it will lead us through the complex labyrinth of the 
Epistle to the Romans, and enable us to see that what St. Paul 
has chiefly in view is to magnify the grace and mercy of God, 
which are brought into brighter relief by the black background 
of human guilt and misery. 

We must be careful to remember, in measuring and con- 
trasting what is bright with what is dark in human history and 
destiny, how largely mercy predominates over strict justice in 
the moral probation of men. The extent to which sin prevails in 
the world is not the measure of the extent of final impenitence. 
It is obvious that those who repent and are forgiven are more 
numerous than those who never fall from the grace of God after 
its first bestowal, and we can never know how many who appear 
to be sinners during their life-time are reconciled to God at the 
near approach of death. 

How much have we gained by these considerations on the 
evils which beset human nature in this present world ? We have 
not certainly found any method of explaining them which can 
change their dark aspect and dispel the obscurity which hangs 
over the problems of free-will and probation. Nevertheless, we 
have gained much in this way. The notion of evil as an eman- 
ation of divine malevolence, and as an irresistible current in na- 
ture which sweeps mankind down into an abyss of misery, is dis- 
pelled. Moral evil is shown to be a dark shadow which follows 
on the concession of that awful power of free-will on which de- 
pends the moral order, the ethical purpose of life, and the entire 
system of probation as the condition of gaining virtue, merit, and 
glory. Evil is seen to be, not more extensive and more powerful 
than good, but limited and controlled by good and subordinated 
to it. The philosophy of despair and helplessness is supplanted 
by the philosophy of hope and victorious power to become 
emancipated from servitude to moral evil and to overcome it. 
Those who will not use this power cannot indeed be coerced, but 
those who will cannot be subdued. 

We have gained much ; for we have found a sufficient reason 
for confiding absolutely in the wisdom, power, and goodness of 
God, who permits and controls evil for the sake of the greatest 
good. We have also found an energetic, ethical, and practical 
principle, which is a sufficient reason for effort in striving for 
our own highest good and that of others. 

It is indeed natural to lament that any evil exists in the uni- 
verse. Moral evil, truly, is worthy to be detested and deplored. 
But to lament that God has not excluded moral evil by adopting 



58 HUMAN NATURE. [Apr., 

an inferior order in the universe is an evidence of weakness in 
our rational and moral nature. Our lamentations are much less 
for moral evil as it is in its intrinsic, essential evil, than for its ex- 
trinsic consequences and accompaniments of physical evil. Moral 
evil, in itself, is the disorder of created wills opposing the divine 
will. It is by far the greatest among all real or possible 
evils. It is sin ; and the evil of sin is duly appreciated only by a 
few. It is physical evil which is so bitterly bemoaned in prose 
and verse, and in silent, brooding thoughts. The refrain of the 
lamentation is: that Life is not worth living. Why not? Be- 
cause the melancholy man cannot bear to feel himself to be so 
mean and miserable, and imagines that all conscious existence 
must be mean and miserable. 

In regard to physical evil, however, it is a mistake to suppose, 
that, on the whole, it increases the sum of real evil. On the con- 
trary, it is a check and barrier to the prevalence of the real evil, 
which is moral evil. It is the occasion of a great increase of the 
real good, which is moral good, and promotes the ethical purpose 
of life. Moreover, the physical evils which are a part of the 
period of probation are temporary and transitory. " For I reckon 
that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared 
with the glory that shall be revealed in us. For the expectation of the 
creation awaiteth the revelation of the sons of God. For the creation 
was subjected to vanity, not of its own will, but by reason of him who 
subjected it in hope ; for the creation itself also shall be delivered from 
the bondage of corruption into the liberty of the glory of the sons of 
God' (Rom. viii. 18-21). The eternal punishment which is the 
retribution of unforgiven sin does not increase but diminishes its 
evil. It is a reaction of the moral order against the force which 
has disturbed it, restoring the moral equilibrium of the universe 
which has been shaken, and contributes to the perfection of the 
order which is finally made perpetual and immovable. 

In this eternal order, human nature, united to the divine na- 
ture in the person of the Son of God, and elevated to a sonship 
by adoption in a multitude of distinct human persons, attains to 
the highest conceivable end. In view of its capacity and destin- 
ation for this end, human nature must be esteemed as the chief 
work and masterpiece of creative wisdom. 

AUGUSTINE F. HEWIT. 



] 59 



I KNELT by my dear love's bed 

One hopeless night; 
Damp the death-dews gathered 

On his forehead white, 
On his gold hair, curled and bright. 

I felt the icy heart in me 

Hang like a stone, 
Weighing me down so heavily ; 

I made no moan, 
My dear love's hand was in mine own. 

I heard the tick of the death-watch, 
And the fire burnt low. 

Was that a hand that raised the latch 
A little while ago ? 

Or the wild wind that shook it so? 

A guest was faring over the moor 
Through all that din ; 

His feet were hastening to our door, 
Soon should he entrance win; 

And two go out where one came in. 

O welcome in the name of the Lord 

This guest shall be ! 
My dry lips sought to say the word, 

But ended brokenly, 
" Now turn likewise thy sword on me ! ' 

My love awoke at dawning gray 

With a sad smile, 
Oh ! did he hear a mile away, 

Or many and many a mile, 
Tke sure feet plodding on the while? 

He held his violet eyes on me 

For a sad space, 
Then fell to dying, patiently ; 

I bent and kissed his face ; 
Cold blew the dawn-wind in the place. 




60 [Apr., 

And as I turned my heart was numb 

With sick dismay ; 
The door was wide ; the guest had come, 

The guest who came to slay. 
But who was this in the hodden-gray ? 



It was no spectral shape of death 

Was standing there ; 
It was Christ Jesus of Nazareth, 

Oh, pitying and fair, 
With amber glories round his hair ! 

He bent and took my dear love's hand, 

Who went with him 
Out in the roseate morning land, 

Over the blue earth's rim: 
His glories made the sunrise dim. 



And oh ! my love was young and glad 

As he went from me, 
And glad the radiant smile he had. 

No more I ask to see, 
I am contented perfectly. 

' KATHARINE TYNAN. 



1889.] THE ORIGIN OF EPISCOPACY. 61 



THE ORIGIN OF EPISCOPACY. 

IN discussing the origin of the hierarchical system in the 
church, Dr. Lightfoot, Anglican Bishop of Durham, advances 
the theory that the episcopate was created out of the presbytery, 
not at once, but by a gradual process ; not uniformly in the 
same degree, but differently in the different churches. Rev. 
Edwin Hatch, M.A., Bampton lecturer in 1880, holds with some 
minor differences the same theory.* Professor Fisher, of the 
Yale Divinity School (whose opinion I propose especially to 
consider in the present article), thinks that at first bishops and 
presbyters were equal. Nowhere, he says, was there a bishop 
above presbyters. " There was no higher guardianship except 
what was found in the authority and influence of the apostles." f 
And to them, he says, was given " the power of the keys and 
the power of binding and loosing that is, the authority to exer- 
cise Christian discipline and a legislative or judicial function in 
connection with the planting of the Gospel." \ 

According to this theory the apostolic church was every where 
presbyterian in form, but governed by a de jure divino aposto- 
late. Assuming that the divinely-constituted apostolate was 
only temporary, he Concludes that the presbyterian churches, 
when left to themselves, by degrees developed into a united 
body, governed by a consolidated episcopate, which claimed for 
itself without warrant the prerogatives of the apostolate. 

Now, it seems to me that, prior to any such decision, Profes- 
sor Fisher should have studied the question as to whether or not 
the human is capable of thus supplanting the divine, and, if it is, 
whether or not the providence of God would be likely to per- 
mit a human institution episcopacy entirely to supersede the 
divine apostolic polity of the Christian Church as originally 
established, even after ages of development or, rather, demorali- 
zation. But, apart from these weighty difficulties, there is no 
trace of resistance made to the supposed usurpation by the 
leading presbyters of episcopal authority. The Church of 
God was alive with genuine apostolic tradition, and was in the 

* " As to the process -by which the chief power gradually became concentrated in the hands 
of the single e'TuorKOTros, Dr. Hatch takes practically the same view as Bishop Lightfoot." Pro- 
fessor Sanday in the Expositor for January, 1887. 

t " The Validity of Non-Episcopal Ordination," New-Englander and Yale Review for 
December, 1888. 

\ History of the Christian Church, p, 37. 



62 THE ORIGIN OF EPISCOPACY. [Apr., 

era of the martyrs when the alleged change took place ; why 
was it slavishly submitted to ? It is well known that in- 
novation in matters of both faith and discipline in those days 
was considered a crime. Moreover, the presbytery everywhere 
could not have forgotten the primitive rule in the church 
and by chance have united to create a superior order, giving 
it a fictitious title to divine authority. After the death of the 
apostles there must have been great multitudes of presbyters 
occup}fing positions of influence, surrounded also by a numerous 
company of the laity, who had been life-long witnesses of what 
was first taught, and who were instructors of others in the true 
faith and discipline of the Church of Christ. Considering what 
kind of men and women the first Christians were, considering 
their hatred of false doctrine and their love of strictness of disci- 
pline and their holiness of life, such a change in the doctrine and 
polity of the church, as Professor Fisher supposes, would have 
been, even in an institution without the favor of any special Pro- 
vidence, extremely improbable. That it should have encounter- 
ed no vigorous resistance or even protest is incredible. 

It is argued by those who assert the human origin of episco- 
pacy that the words " bishop " and " presbyter " are sometimes 
used indiscriminately in the New Testament and the writings of 
the Apostolic Fathers, therefore the distinction of orders was 
unknown in the beginning. This difficulty may be answered, 
(i) By considering the difference between the two offices of 
bishop and presbyter according to Catholic teaching. A priest 
can perform every function of the ministry except that of or- 
daining others. Priests are sometimes empowered to administer 
the Sacrament of Confirmation. A bishop has the plenitude of 
the priesthood i.e., he can not only exercise all the powers of 
the priesthood, but can make others bishops and priests as well. 
When the precise difference between the two offices is under- 
stood, and due allowance is made for the inchoate terminology of 
the time, it is conceivable how the same word might have been 
used to designate either. (2) Presbyters, as history shows, by 
the custom of all ages have, when it was deemed expedient, 
been entrusted with the government of churches. Dr. Dollin- 
ger shows how, when there were hindrances to the appointment 
of bishops in the times of the apostles, a presbyterate, subjected 
to the authority of the apostles, was for a time the most available 
form of government.* 

A presbyter exercising authority over others of his order, 

* First Ages of the Church , vol. ii. p. 114. 



1889.] THE ORIGIN OF EPISCOPACY. 63 

or, in fact, any presbyter, might, by his office, have been styled 
' bishop ' before controversy had developed the later distinc- 
tion in terms. There is much less difficulty in explaining 
how a bishop could be called "presbyter," because every 
bishop is generically a presbyter, but only specifically an over- 
seer and consecrator of others to the same office. This ex- 
planation of the difference between bishop and presbyter is 
in perfect accord with the decrees of the Council of Trent 
on the Sacrament of Order.* 

It is also objected that when St. Polycarp wrote his epis- 
tle to the Philippians he makes no mention of a bishop at 
Philippi, and therefore no bishop could have ever been there; 
and that when St. Clement of Rome wrote his first epistle 
to the Corinthians the church at Corinth had no bishop, and 
consequently had always been presbyterian. To these I re- 
ply that if St. Polycarp does not address the Bishop of Phi- 
lippi by name, he sends to the Philippian Church the epistles 
of St. Ignatius, which, he says, " treat of all things pertaining 
to edification in the Lord."f 

Now, in his epistle to Smyrna St. Ignatius declares : " It 
is good to regard God and the bishop. Whosoever honoreth 
the bishop he is honored of God, but he that doeth a thing 
and hideth it from the bishop worshippeth the devil." And 
again, if the Church of Corinth had been always presbyterian, 
how could Tertullian have classed it with the churches of 
Ephesus and Rome, in which he declares "bishops had been 
appointed by the apostles," and have said: "Run over the 
apostolic churches in which the very chairs of the Apostles 
to this day preside over their own places, in which their own 
authentic writings are read, echoing the voice and making pres- 
ent the face of each. Is Achaia near to thee ? Thou liast 
Corinth" etc.;): 

Or why does Eusebius, the historian, mention a Bishop of 
Corinth, Primus, as visited by Hegisippus about A.D. 165 ? 

Furthermore, the true doctrine, says Hegisippus, had been 
kept at Corinth up to the time of Primus. And if there had 
been no evolution of doctrine, is it probable that there had 
been one of polity? From the Catholic standpoint the ex- 
planation of both these difficulties is easy, because the apos- 
tles themselves were bishops. 

The epistles of St. Ignatius, disciple of St. John the Apos- 

*" Genesis of the Catholic Church," CATHOLIC WORLD for October, 1880. 
tEpist. ad Philipp., c. xiii. JDe Praescrip. Heret.,c. xxxvi. %Hist. Ecc. t iv. 22. 



64 THE ORIGIN OF EPISCOPACY. [Apr., 

tie, afford such clear and explicit testimony to the preroga- 
tives of the episcopal office that among those who do not 
dispute their authenticity * every attempt to set it aside has 
been abandoned. 

He writes to the Magnesians, in an epistle which Pro- 
fessor Fisher admits to be genuine: 

" It becometh you also not to make free with the youthfulness of your 
bishop, . . . but to concede to him all reverence, as I am aware the holy 
presbyters do, taking no occasion from his apparently youthful state, but, 
as men wise in God, submitting to him. ... 1 exhort that you study to do 
all things in the unanimity of God, the bishop holding the presidency in the 
place of God ; and the presbyters in the place of the council of the Apos- 
tles"( c. iii.) 

St. Irenseus, also, whose testimony concerning the four 
Gospels Dr. Fisher considers irrefragable, ought to be equally 
as good a witness concerning the polity of the church and 
the question of episcopacy. 

Lipsius says: 

"The episcopate is for Irenseus no mere congregational office, but 
one belonging to the whole church ; the great importance attached by his 
contemporaries to the proofs of a genuine apostolical succession rests on 
the assumption that the episcopate was guardian of the church's unity of 
teaching, a continuation, in fact, of the apostolic teaching-office ordained 
for that purpose by the Apostles themselves. The bishop, in reference to 
any particular congregation, is a representative of the whole Catholic 
Church, the very idea of catholicity being indebted for its completion to 
this more sharply defined conception of the episcopal office." t 

Professor Fisher admits that the " precedence accorded to St. 
James, the brother of the Lord, in the Church of Jerusalem fur- 
nished an example which may have paved the way " for episco- 
pacy there; and that through the agency of St. John the Apos- 
tle the churches of Asia Minor may have changed their organi- 
zation, but considers it a " wholly unproved and unauthorized 
notion " that, even according to this tradition, St. John institut- 
ed such an arrangement for the churches everywhere." "An 
early presidency among the presbyters at Rome," he also says, 
"suffices to account for*' St. Irenseus' statement about a line of 
bishops in the latter place. These restrictions, which Professor 
Fisher tries to make, are specimens of the Tubingen method of 
argument which he has learned unfortunately too well. How 
unsatisfactory, since nothing is clearer than that St. Ignatius con- 

* Bishop Lightfoot may be said to have settled the controversy on this question among 
scholars. 

^Dictionary of Christian Biography, by Dr. Smith and Prof. Wace, article "Irenseus." 



.] THE ORIGIN OF EPISCOPACY. 65 

sidered episcopacy as divinely instituted and essential to the be- 
ing- of the church. In the epistle to the Trallians, after enumer- 
ating the three orders, he says : " Without these there is no 
church " (c. iii.) In the epistle to the Ephesians he declares 
the universality of the episcopal order: " bishops settled every- 
where to the uttermost limits [of the earth]" (c. iii.) St. Ire- 
nasus* testimony to the episcopate as belonging to the whole 
church is likewise too plain to be disputed. He says that " to 
the succession of the bishops they (the Apostles) delivered that 
church which is everywhere."* 

We must agree that the field of controversy in reference to 
episcopacy has been greatly narrowed by Dr. Fisher, and, in 
this respect, he has done positive service to the science of his- 
tory. The following statement is, perhaps, the most candid ad- 
mission that any Protestant writer of our day has ever made : 

"The church stood forth after the middle of the second century as a 
distinct body. It claimed to be, in opposition to heretical and schismatical 
parties, the 'Catholic Church.' .... The unity of the church was se- 
cured and cemented by the episcopate by the bishops, viewed as succes- 
sors of the apostles. The episcopate, like the apostolate in which Peter 
was the centre, was a unit."t 

Now, if in less than a century, and before the light shed by 
the apostles had fairly disappeared, the hierarchical system was 
the embodiment of Christianity in the world, the identity of the 
Catholic Church with the apostolic in polity as well as in doc- 
trine, can by no true process of reasoning be denied. The 
Catholic body, with its fitly joined parts, exuberant life, and 
developed strength, is as unmistakably the church founded 
by the Saviour of the world as the holy Child Jesus teaching 
in the temple is Mary's Divine Infant. If we are to suppose the 
contrary, then the power of common discernment, concurrent 
testimony, and joint certitude of knowledge in the church as to 
its own identity is nil. 

Dr. Fisher's admissions concerning the church and the epis- 
copate of the second century are, as I think I have shown, suffi- 
cient to settle the question at issue between us; yet I must not 
pass by the objections which he makes from certain of St. Jer- 
ome's remarks upon episcopacy and priesthood. This great Fa- 
ther and Doctor of the church declares 

"that with the ancients the same persons were presbyters who were also 
bishops, but that gradually, in order that the plants of dissension might be 
uprooted, the entire administration was transferred to one. Therefore, as 

* Adv. Haer., lib. iv. c. xxxiii. 8. f History of the Christian Church, p. 57. 



66 THE ORIGIN OF EPISCOPACY. [Apr., 

presbyters may know that by the custom of the church they are subject to 
the. one who has been placed over them, so also bishops may understand 
that they are greater than presbyters more by custom than by the veritable 
ordinance of the Lord."* 

Did St. Jerome mean by these words that episcopacy was not 
of divine appointment, but established only by human authority 
in the church? Evidently not; because such an interpretation is 
wholly without contemporary support. St. Jerome has certainly 
never been censured by any Catholic writer as teaching the 
equality of bishops and priests, while Aerius (fourth century) 
was condemned for this doctrine. St. Jerome refers in this ex- 
tract to the time when presbyters actually exercised the pastoral 
and ruling office under the direction of the apostles before bish- 
ops were appointed over them. He is here contending that 
the priests of his time, like those of the earliest age, should share 
to a greater extent with the bishops in the government of the 
church. 

In his epistle to Evangelus St. Jerome writes the following 
about the Church of Alexandria, which Dr. Fisher uses as an 
argument in .favor of non-episcopal ordination : 

" At Alexandria, from Mark the Evangelist down to Heraclius (A.D. 246) 
and Dionysius (A.D. 265), the presbyters always nominated one chosen from 
themselves, and seated in a more elevated place, bishop, as if an army 
should make a commander, or deacons choose one among themselves 
whom they knew to be a diligent man and call him archdeacon." 

Here the holy Doctor should be understood as speaking sim- 
ply of the mode of "election ; for he asks in this very epistle : 
" What does a bishop do, with the exception of ordination, which a 
presbyter may not do? ' And he also declares that "all (bishops) 
are successors of the apostles." I fail to see on what ground Dr. 
Fisher infers that ordination by presbyters is implied. It is im- 
possible to reconcile such an interpretation with the statement of 
St. Athanasius that a council at Alexandria, about A.D. 324, de- 
clared null and void a pretended ordination of a certain presbyter, 
Colluthus. " How, then," ask the Egyptian bishops in a synod 
A.D. 340, " is Ischyras a presbyter? Who appointed him ? Was 
it not Colluthus? This is the only plea. But that Colluthus 
died a presbyter and that his every ordination is invalid . . . is 
plain and nobody doubts it" f 

It has been claimed that the mere fact that Colluthus at- 

* Comment, in Epist. ad Titum, i. 5. 

t The Church and the Ministry, p. 139. By Charles Gore, M.A. New York : James Pott 
&Co. 



.] THE ORIGIN OF EPISCOPACY. 67 

tempted to ordain is an indication that there was an Alexandrian 
tradition that presbyters could ordain, but thi's is overthrown by 
the very decision of the Alexandrian Council in the case which I 
have mentioned. Moreover, the ordination performed by Collu- 
thus was not declared null because he was a schismatic, but be- 
cause he died a presbyter.* 

Professor Fisher considers the Eucharistic Sacrifice a later 
development than episcopacy. As the two are so intimately con- 
nected, I cannot consider the one without touching upon the 
other. The supposition that the Eucharist was only instituted 
to be a taking of ordinary bread and wine as symbolic of the 
Lord's death, and that it had developed as early as the third cen- 
tury into a sacrificial oblation of the Lord's true Body and Blood* 
is more incredible than the supposed evolution of episcopacy. 
There is no action of our Lord so fraught with meaning as his 
institution on the day before his death of the sacrament by 
which the church was to commemorate until the end of time 
his offering of himself for the remission of sin. How deeply 
must the apostles, who witnessed its institution and received the 
command to do the same solemn action, have understood and felt 
its meaning! How full must have been the illumination of the 
Holy Spirit which they afterwards received concerning it ! How 
often and in how many places it must have been celebrated by 
the apostles themselves ! How many must have been present on 
such occasions and been instructed by them in the ministration 
of it ! Did the churches everywhere unconsciously, within a 
period of two centuries, transform the Lord's table into an altar? 
Impossible. In fact, the truth about this sacrament was so 
deeply rooted in the church that no heresy regarding it appeared 
for many centuries. The continual oblation in the church has 
been the practical verification of the sacerdotal character of the 
presbyterate ; and, without episcopacy or the priesthood in its 
fulness, the perpetuation of the oblation and the one who offers 
it would be impossible. A purely governmental episcopacy, as 
Professor Fisher himself shows, could have no claim to be es- 
sential to the being of the church. Unless ordination carries 
with it a power above that which a layman has, it is plainly a 
non-essential of Christianity. He therefore rightly concludes 
that the invitation of the Protestant Episcopal Church to his 
own church to unite on the basis of the so-called " historic epis- 
copate " of the Anglican Church is "too large a demand." In 

*I venture to refer Professor Fisher to Father Hewit's discussion of these objections in his 
article on the "Genesis of the Catholic Church" in THE CATHOLIC WORLD for October, 1880. 
VOL. XLIX. 5 



68 WHO SHOULD GO TO PRISON? [Apr., 

extracting from " the Holy Table " of the Anglican service the 
Eucharistic Sacrifice he sees the same difficulty that Catholics 
see in the theory of a development of the altar sacrifice of the 
third century from an apostolic symbolic communion service. 

Dr. Fisher complains of the lack of evidence of a sacrificial 
oblation in the writings of the Apostolic Fathers and those of a 
century later. If he should note and compare all that they do 
say in reference to the Eucharist, and take into consideration the 
effect which Was, and which they must have known would be, 
produced on their own and later generations by their writings, 
his verdict might be different. The late Professor J. L. Diman, 
a familiar friend of his, was accustomed to say : " We should 
study facts not simply as they are presented to us at the present 
instant, but in the whole course of their development." 

H. H. WYMAN. 



WHO SHOULD GO TO PRISON? 

NEITHER you nor I, reader, because we are serving a life 
sentence within a prison built around us by human respect, 
stronger than any masonry known to ancient Greeks or Egyp- 
tians. And if by some misstep we venture beyond these pre- 
cincts, we must suffer, in losing the respect of our fellow-men, a 
punishment of which stone walls and prison rule are rather the 
symbols than the reality. 

Jails and penitentiaries are made for those who have little to 
lose and fancy they have much to gain by crime. Were we to 
open the question of comparative guilt between sinners who are 
in bonds and sinners whom the law cannot touch, this article 
would expand into a volume. We must leave the inequalities 
of human justice to balance themselves, while we examine the 
elements that compose our prison population in the year 1889. 

Prison life as it exists, prison reform as it should exist, are 
topics of engrossing interest to those who know that criminals 
do not form a class as distinct from the rest of society as if they 
were savages, but have individual manners, desires, and suscepti- 
bilities like other men more virtuous or more fortunate. 

Our prison population forms only a small portion of society. 
T say it under correction, for statistics are broken reeds to lean 



1889.] WHO SHOULD GO TO PRISON? 69 

upon. The whole prison population of the United States amounts 
to 62,000 persons. 

In Massachusetts, where statistics connected with crime are 
kept with scrupulous fidelity at the office of the Prison Com- 
mission, the inmates of prisons at the present time number 5,698, 
including 1 men, women, and children. This is an unusually large 
number, and the excess comes probably not from an increase in 
crime, but from a spasmodic zeal in making arrests for small 
offences.* 

/ 

I offer below a classified list of the persons who usually fill 
our prisons, rightly or wrongly, justly or unjustly. New 
buildings are frequently demanded for penitentiaries, and it is 
but fair that taxpayers should know what they are paying for. 

Female prisoners cannot be placed in the same category with 
male prisoners. They form but a small proportion of the whole, 
and their claims to sympathy must be stated in a special manner. 

Male prisoners may be fairly classified thus: 

ist. Juvenile offenders, including stubborn children arrested at the 

request of their parents. 
2d. Hardened juvenile offenders. 
3d. Tramps or vagrants. 
4th. Common drunkards. 
5th. Dipsomaniacs. 

6th. Occasional or accidental criminals. 

7th. Persons serving a life-sentence for manslaughter. 

8th. Persons serving a life-sentence as a commutation of the death* 

penalty for murder. 
9th. Professional criminals. . 

There would seem to be a wide abyss separating the juvenile 
offender from the professional criminal, but alas ! it is an abyss 
bridged over by a masterpiece of engineering. Once let a child 
set his foot upon that bridge, he is as likely to cross it as a man. 
attacked with small-pox or cholera is likely to die. 

The little, tender creature, looking like a squirrel in its cage 
behind the bars of his cell, and crying for his mother,, is the seed 
from which will spring some sodden drunkard or professional 
thief. His little foot has taken the first step upon that dreadful 
bridge. After a few days he gets used to the place;. he is kindly 
treated ; he need not work or study ; he drops into a lazy accep- 

* In the month of January, 1889, there were at the State Prison at Charlestown 564 ; 
Young Men's Reformatory at Concord, 678 ; Women's Reformatory at Sherborn, 249. 
Twenty-one county prisons varied from several hundred inmates to one ; South Boston House 
of Correction held 601. Two State penitentiaries at Bridgewater and one at Deer Island 
receive prisoners and paupers. The number of commitments in 1888 was 30,000, an unusually 
large number. 



;o WHO SHOULD GO TO PRISON ? [Apr., 

tance of the situation which is one of the saddest characteristics 
of the criminal class. One of the fears that might have kept him 
from grave crime is gone ; he has been in prison and it was not 
very bad after all. Poor little boy ! it is sadder to see him at his 
ease behind the bars than to see him crying with fear. Then, 
too, his good name is gone, and older, culprits will use him next as 
a cat's-paw ; the second step is easier than the first, we all know ; 
and so, unless saved by some blessed intervention, that child is 
doomed to a life of crime. 

How do I know this ? By twenty-two years of observation 
among prisoners of every grade and stamp of crime. I have seen 
them in the county jail awaiting trial and in the State prison serv- 
ing a sentence. 

A county jail is a good school for studying prisoners, because 
they show individual character more freely there than they do 
after a sentence has subjected them to a routine that tends to 
make machines of men. 

In the course of two weeks four or five little boys were sent 
-to one prison where I was visiting, with a sentence of fine and 
'Costs that would keep them there in case of non-payment at least 
three weeks. One little fellow had played ball on Sunday, an- 
other had thrown stones, a third had stolen a pie out of a baker's 
>cart, and so on offences which needed correction or punishment, 
bu.t not by imprisonment in a common jail. I have often seen 
small boys in prison for bathing in the river without bathing- 
clothes, and I am quite sure they returned to society prepared 
to -commit improprieties even more glaring. 

On one occasion I found two lads of fourteen in prison, serv- 
ing a sentence of one month for stealing one cent, half a cent 
apiece being the profits of the robbery. They had snatched a 
cent from a companion, who raised an outcry, and the police ar- 
rested the two highwaymen. One of these criminals was as 
nice a boy as one would wish to see, and stood so well in school 
that his teacher appeared in court to intercede for him ; but the 
sentence was already pronounced and there was no redress. He 
had already se'rved half his time when I found him in prison, 
overwhelmed with grief and shame and looking on himself as 
mined. His accomplice was a good boy, but less sensitive to the 
mortification. The governor pardoned them the next day, 
some charitable persons paid the fines and costs of the little 
boys, and so the prison was cleared for the time of this abuse. 
Moreover, the prison officers made so vehement a protest against 
this injustice that no more children were sent for a long time. 



1889.] WHO SHOULD GO TO PRISON? 7 I 

I am told that the county prison in question no longer re- 
ceives young children, but I fear that to other prisons they are 
still sent. 

The post of Probation Officer should be considered one of 
great importance and be given only to persons of experience and 
judgment. May I venture, to say that the Conferences of St. 
Vincent de Paul, acting in connection with the probation offi- 
cers, could save many boys from ruin by acting as guardians to 
young offenders brought into court. A sentence to a reform 
school during minority is not usually necessary ; a judicious 
guardian could preserve the culprit from evil practices and 
make him a useful member of society instead of a torment. 

Hardened juvenile offenders are veritable puzzles. They are 
more shameless than men, and are hypocrites or rebels as the 
case may be, vain of their vices and ambitious to be thought 
great criminals. Every institution dreads them as inmates, and 
they tax the patience of even charitable hearts. As they are 
often juvenile offenders indurated by bad management, their 
numbers might be lessened by wise laws kindly enforced. 
Sometimes their crimes are the result of the nervous excitability 
of youth, and they grow better as they grow older. But I can- 
not pretend to throw much light on the subject, except by saying 
that the cottage system of reformatory, with plenty of exercise 
and work in the open air, is more likely to develop boys in a 
wholesome manner than the most carefully guarded reformatory 
with indoor occupations. Herding together is bad for any chil- 
dren ; it is disastrous in its results when the throng is composed 
of evil elements. 

Tramps are of two kinds, unfortunate men thrown out of 
work at a distance from home and compelled to beg or to starve, 
and idlers who seek a sojourn in a county prison during the cold 
weather. The first class should be aided and encouraged ; the 
second class should have a good round sentence to the work- 
house. In Essex County, Mass., one energetic judge has cleared 
his court-house of vagrants by giving a few vigorous sentences 
to men who used to go to prison for the winter as regularly as 
some invalids go to Florida to escape our inclement weather. 

Inebriates must be sent to prison, for the sake of public order, 
until the States provide hospitals for them, with laws to hold 
them there as securely as they are held in prison. It is, however, 
the opinion of some persons of experience, an opinion which I 
heartily share, that a man who only drinks occasionally, and is 
industrious and decent between his spasms of intemperance, is 



72 WHO SHOULD GO TO PRISON? [Apr., 

not benefited by being kept in either hospital or prison during 
the long intervals when he would be sober anywhere. Such 
men are sometimes held captive while they are free from tempta- 
tion, and released just as the fiend prepares to take periodical 
possession of them again. Meanwhile their families suffer sorely 
for want of their support, when a short retirement would have 
been all sufficient to cure them for the time. As to a perma- 
nent cure of intermittent intemperance, it can only be effected by 
heroic determination on the part of the sufferer himself. 

Habitual drunkards are greatly helped by a long sentence, 
subject to a ticket-of-leave on probation, but they should be 
confined in an inebriate asylum, not in a reformatory. Dipso- 
maniacs, like any other hopeless maniacs, need treatment in a 
hospital. It is to be hoped that each State will soon have its 
hospital for inebriates and leave prisons and reformatories for 
offenders against person and property. 

Accidental or occasional criminals form a class deserving of 
especial interest and attention. The reformatory system, so ad- 
mirably carried out by Mr. Brockway at Elmira, New York, and 
by Colonel Gardiner E. Tufts at Concord, Mass., has proved that 
a first crime does not involve the necessity of a criminal career. 
Reformatories are best suited for young men whose first offence 
threatens no grave danger to society, and whose punishment is 
needed more for their personal correction than as a public warn- 
ing. Better still, in some instances, would be a term pf proba- 
tion, with power reserved by the court to execute justice in case 
of a relapse into vicious pursuits. 

A first crime may be the result of immoral courses adopted- in 
spite of a good education and all those social advantages which 
are supposed to create and preserve virtue. Men who embezzle 
public funds, misuse trust property, or otherwise abuse a confi- 
dence reposed in them precisely because they hold a position 
that should place them above the reach of temptation, culprits 
whose fall from virtue gives a shock to public credit, must not 
plead in excuse that the crime is a first offence. In fact, there 
never could be a second offence, for it is only behind the shield 
of unblemished fame that extensive frauds can be committed. 

Such men, who should have offered an example to society, 
must furnish a warning. They have no cause to complain if a 
sentence to the State prison is the penalty of their crime. 

Prisoners serving a life-sentence in the State prison for 
murder or manslaughter are sometimes excellent prisoners and 
interesting men. Society looks upon them justly as enemies, 



1889-] WHO SHOULD GO TO PRISON? 73 

and demands their incarceration, but taken as a class they are 
well behaved. Perhaps the crime was committed under the in- 
fluence of liquor, and they may, when sober, be industrious, in- 
telligent, and honorable. Passions, too, are so like intoxication 
that, temptation being- removed, a homicide is not necessarily 
dangerous or repulsive. 

Lastly we come to professional criminals, meaning those who 
have no plan in life beyond an intention to earn every day oi 
commuted time in prison by good conduct, and return at the 
earliest opportunity to a life of crime. They are sometimes 
model prisoners ; they have a strength of nerve and purpose 
quite sufficient to insure reform, were that their object. Occa- 
sionally they do reform. I remember one man who at forty-five 
became a useful and honorable citizen after a long career as a 
noted thief. But as a usual thing the habit of intriguing is too 
dear to them to be resigned for what they believe to be the 
monotony of a virtuous life. 

I have this to say for professional criminals : Many of them 
were little, guileless children sent to jail before they fairly knew 
wrong from right. They were used as tools by bigger boys, 
shoved through shop-windows to steal cigars or other things, and 
then arrested for breaking and entering. Save young children 
from corruption and there will be fewer professional criminals 
whose hands are against society, and society's hand against 
them. 

Let me briefly sum up the suggestions I have made. Keep 
children out of prison and sow less seed for crime. Aid innoceat 
tramps to get work and teach idlers that prisons are not built to 
be their winter resorts. Let occasional drunkards, guilty of no 
other offence, receive short sentences and return to their families 
and their employment. Habitual drunkards must go to prison 
until there are asylums for inebriates provided by the State. A 
sentence of one or two years, subject to a ticketof-leave, gives 
them an opportunity to reform if they choose to do so. 

There remain hardened juvenile offenders who must have a 
chance given to them in a reformatory before they are allowed 
to drop 'into the criminal class ; and accidental criminals who 
should go to a reformatory or be released on probation from the 
courts. 

Life men, professional criminals, and breakers of public or 
private trust are left for the State prison. Happily, in some 
of our State prisons the belief in reforming prisoners is as 
marked as it is in so-called reformatories. 



74 WHO SHOULD GO TO PRISON? [Apr., 

And what about women prisoners? The statistics in Mas- 
sachusetts show that they form from twelve to eighteen per 
cent, of the prison population. In county prisons one sees from 
one to forty women. The penitentiaries receive quite a large 
number. The Reformatory for Women at Sherborn takes from 
225 to 300 on sentences of one or two years for offences against 
public order, and for longer terms for offences against person 
and property. It has the graded system and releases on ticket- 
of-leave. The history of Sherborn Prison is so interesting that 
I turn from it regretfully for want of space, and content myself 
with saying that under its superintendent, Mrs. Ellen C. John- 
son, it is a model of good discipline without harshness, of order 
and humane treatment. 

Female criminals are often invalids. Their nerves are shat- 
tered by excesses that act quickly upon sensitive organizations. 
Strange to say, coarse instincts may exist in union with keen ner 
vous susceptibility, and I have seen so much suffering among wo- 
men detained in prisons that pity keeps me silent about some very 
repugnant peculiarities belonging to them as a class. A woman 
who drinks because she is in despair, who sells what is priceless 
to avoid starvation, may become a most odious being, but I for 
one can only grieve for her. Not much is to be said for shop- 
lifters, black-mailers, and those who emulate men in the vigor of 
their evil practices, but they are not very numerous. The mass 
of women prisoners are so much the victims of circumstances 
that I ask myself what and how many of such circumstances am 
I responsible for, and how little girls and young women may 
be protected from evil. 

The fact that little girls are rarely sent to jail is probably one 
reason why there are comparatively few women among the 
prison population. I remember to have seen but one little girl in 
jail awaiting trial, and she was quickly released. 

EMMA F. GARY. 

Cambridge \ Mass. 



1889.] PAUL RING WOOD: AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 75 



. PAUL RINGWOOD : AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

CHAPTER XXVIII. 
TOM HETHERING. 

ON the Thursday after Father Clare's departure, when I 
went to give Harry his lesson, Robert ushered me into the 
little parlor. " Mr. Hethering am with Marster Harry, an' 
Mrs. Hethering requests you to wait a few minutes afore you 
go up, sah," he explained. Then, as on a former occasion, he 
opened a blind the fraction of an inch and left me to amuse 
myself if I could. 

After waiting an irksome length of time, the conservatory 
doors being ajar, I went to stretch my legs in the broad 
walk between the tiers of flowers. Before a half dozen turns 
had been taken I heard a man's voice in the parlor saying, 
" So you have been instructing Elsie how to make eyes at our 
Rizzio ; and is Elsie apt? Now, confess, like a good little wife 
-is not all that of Elsie's being away fabricated ?" 

" You do not astonish me ; you are capable of saying such 
things ; what you believe is quite different," interrupted a 
woman's voice that I recognized as Mrs. Hethering's. 

" You think I have implicit faith in you," said the man. " I 
have; I'll prove it to-day " 

Again Mrs. Hethering interrupted ; this time her interrup- 
tion consisted of but one word. "God!" she exclaimed, not 
passionately, but as one would address him in prayer. I 
had not been listening. All that has just been told passed in 
a moment, as I was walking towards them. 

When I entered the little parlor Mrs. Hethering was stand- 
ing, her head bent, her folded hands hanging before her. On a 
chair 'reclined a man apparently about thirty, the possessor 
of the most indolently good-natured countenance I have ever 
seen. He was handsome, with a feminine sort of beauty ; ex- 
teriorly a gentleman, faultlessly clad. This last I felt rather 
than knew, my acquaintance with tailors being limited. 

Mrs. Hethering was the first to perceive my entrance. 
Drawing herself up, she said : " Ah ! Mr. Ringwood." 

" And is this Mr. Ringwood ?" exclaimed the occupant of 
the chair. " My dear Mr. Ringwood, you have no idea how 



76 PAUL RINGWOOD : AN AUTOBIOGRAPHIC '[Apr., 

glad I am to see you." As he said this he got to his feet 
with a briskness not at all natural to him, and I found my- 
self, shaking hands with a gentleman who announced to me 
that he was Harry's father. 

"You must excuse me," he said, as he languidly sat down. 
" I'm fagged out you play poker ?" 

I confessed my ignorance, and he went on, speaking in an 
artless sort of way : " Was down the bay last night with a 
gang of friends by the bye, the feminine portion had rather 
cracked reputations. We played poker but I must not say 
any more about it ; my wife does not approve of poker. 
But then she is a saint." 

She was looking at him, mildly appealing. 

He laughed lazily and said : " Yes, but you are, Ethel ; 'tis 
as palpable as" he looked about as if searching for a simile 
" as the loveliness of your face. Now, isn't that a pretty 
compliment ?" 

Instead of answering him, she said : " I fancy Mr. Ring- 
wood is anxious to be with Harry." 

Whether this was a hint or not for me to leave the room, 
I immediately moved towards the door. 

" I protest," exclaimed Hethering, raising his hand with a 
mock imploring gesture. " Has not Harry had enough of les- 
sons ? Let him have a holiday. Robert!" he called to the 
servant in the hallway, " tell Master Harry to come here." 

Now it was Mrs. Hethering who moved to leave the room. 

" Where are you going ?" asked Hethering. 

Without answering him, she stood irresolutely in the 
doorway. 

" Stay here," he said in a beseeching tone. 

She silently returned to her chair and sat down. 

" You see, Mr. Ringwood," he explained, " I've been away 
from home quite two months ; of course I wish to have my 
wife with me- He stopped short, as if it were too much 
of an effort for him to speak. " I never was a good hand 
at explanations," he added after a moment. 

Seizing on his explanation as a text for my going back to the 
college, I said : " As there is to be no class to-day, and I feel my- 
self rather in the way you and Mrs. Hethering wish to be 
alone " 

There is no doubt of it, I blundered largely. I looked to- 
wards Mrs. Hethering, but there was no sign in her face that 
she had heard me speak. Her eyes were cast down, apparently 



1889.] PAUL RINGWOOD : AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 77 

contemplating 1 the grotesque figures painted on a fan she had 
taken from a table at her side. 

" My dear fellow!' cried Hethering effusively, "how awk- 
wardly I have expressed myself. You must not think of leaving 
us; you are one of the family, as it were younger brother and 
all that sort of thing. You must dine here as usual " 

" I never dine here," I interrupted. 

" To be sure ! What a memory I have ! So Mrs. Hethering 
told me, and I told her how wrong it was, rather strait-laced. 
Why, that's just the beauty of our American system, not to be 
strait-laced. Who on earth that is, American earth would 
dream of there being anything out of the way in Mrs. Hether- 
ing entertaining her son's tutor after his laborious occupations? 
Be circumspect, I always say, but not slavishly so. Mrs. 
Hethering will be the slave of non-existent conventionalities. 
Here's Harry," he interrupted himself to say. " You would 
like Mr. Ringwood to take dinner with you to-day, wouldn't 
you, Harry?" he asked when the boy, after greeting me, had 
taken a chair by his mother. 

" If Mr. Ringwood would like," he said in an abashed way 
entirely foreign to his nature as I knew him. 

"Then we would all like it. I beg pardon* and he bowed 
slightly "you'd like it, Mrs. Hethering?'' 

" I am glad to help entertain my husband's guests," she re- 
turned in a stilted manner. 

" Ah, yes ! Caesar's wife must be above suspicion. But then, 
you know, I'm not Cassar," he said, laughing, with an apologetic 
gesture. 

I knew it as keenly then as I know it now that I should not 
have remained, but, having no experience in false positions, 
did not know how to extricate myself. Unconscious that I was 
used to insult his wife, not understanding what had been as seen 
in the light of my fuller knowledge glaringly insinuated of my 
connection with Mrs. Hethering, I, with an easiness that now 
appears to me criminal, allowed myself to be persuaded to take 
my dinner with this man. 

Not understanding Hethering, he seemed to me a harmless 
babbler, very fond of hearing himself talk. I did not believe that 
he cared for my company further than that he could use me as a 
listener to his nothings. I knew there were women of cracked 

o 

reputations, and in a hazy way the nature of such reputations. 
And when he alluded so carelessly to having been in the company 
of such women it seemed to me, in my dense ignorance, that he 
was very guileless. Being a fool myself, I thought him one. 



78 PAUL RINGWOOD: AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. [Apr., 

" By the bye," said Hethering when I had again seated my- 
self, " Elbert Ringwood, just come into an estate, good house, no 
style about it to my fancy. Berty is the chap to put all that in. 
He's a Philiopoiis youth, son of Arthur Ringwood, a crank, I've 
heard Noe's ark pedigree and all that sort of thing. Pretty 
flush of money, not a usual, concomitant of pedigrees. Know 
him?" 

Not over-pleased at the light way in which he spoke of my 
father, his sneer at the old home, I answered briefly and with 
acidity : " Elbert Ringwood is my brother." 

He started in his chair, exclaiming : " Good Lord ! you don't 
say so! ' then laughed to himself. " Did I say anything I should 
not have said ?' he asked. "A thousand pardons if I have. But 
how could I know you are the brother of such a swell as Berty? 
You've run through your share already? What a deucedly 
roguish pace you must have gone ! ' 

I did not tell him that I had had no share to run through. I 
did not, could not speak. The man's insolence lashed me, and I 
was angry that I could think of nothing that would cut him. 

" Berty was down the bay with us last night ; he promised to 
look in to-day, to view me in the character of father of a family. 
Probably he's forgotten. I doa-'t know how many glasses he'd 
left the lees of wine in when he made that promise." 

Bert so near, a possibility of my seeing him that day ! It was 
my turn to be startled. For nigh six years I had not seen him. 
Twice I had written him after father's death, but my letters re- 
mained unanswered. All my old love for him, that had cooled 
by separation, now warmed in my heart, and I felt, were we to 
meet, he, too, would have some love for me. 

" If you expect another guest, had not the servants better be 
warned?' 1 suggested Mrs. Hethering. 

"If Berty comes," returned Hethering, " a plate can easily be 
laid for him ; it's one chance in a thousand that he will." 

She did not argue the point, but relapsed into her former sil- 
ence, rousing herself at times to whisper to Harry, whilst her 
husband babbled nonsense to me about books of which he knew 
nothing. 

" I am quite in the literary mocd this afternoon," he expati- 
ated. "Were it not for having to look so much after the dollar, 
I might seek the inspiration of the eagle. There is an epigram 
floating in my mind ; I can't exactly seize on it : St. John, and the 
eagle whispering in his ear, which is perfectly absurd. Who ever 
heard of such an ornithological monstrosity as a whispering 
eagle?" 



1889.] PAUL RING WOOD: AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 79 

He was so droll I could not help laughing. Laughter turned 
to dismay when Mrs. Hethering announced that she was going 
to dress for dinner, and left the room with Harry. I looked 
aghast at my gray suit, prosaically respectable, loudly protesting 
against being considered in the light of a dinner costume; then 
looked at Hethering's faultless attire, saying that I could not re- 
main for dinner as I was. 

" If we don't mind," Hethering interrupted, " and I assure 
,you we don't care the rap of a knuckle, why need you? You 
literary people, fortunate dogs ! have the liberty of wearing what 
you please. W,hat a deused noise ! ' he exclaimed. This excla- 
mation was caused by a bustle in the hallway, the noise of 
heavy articles put down, followed by a quick, light step, and a 
young girl entered the little parlor. 

Giving his legs a spasmodic jerk, Hethering got to his feet, 
looking ruefully at the girl. 

" You don't appear overjoyed, Tom," she began, stopping 
abruptly when she perceived me. 

" This promises to be a family gathering," said Hethering, 
smiling. "You and Mr. Ringwood are old friends, if I under- 
stand rightly ? ' 

She looked displeased and was about to speak, when Hether- 
ing continued : " No? Well, introductions are a bore ! Eisie, this 
is Harry's tutor, Mr. Ringwood, and, Mr. Ringwood, this is my 
sister, Elsie Hethering. There's an idea somewhere in my brain 
which, when it is born, I'll patent" he was addressing me ; 
4 a plan for avoiding introductions. I know there's a medal, 
collar, or belt to be worn, with the individual's name on it, some- 
what in the manner you label a dog." 

" Is Ethel at home ? ' interrupted his sister, who had been 
eying me curiously. 

" O Lord ! yes," ejaculated Hethering. " She's always at 
home. Thought you were in New York?" 

She did not answer this, but saying she'd look up Ethel, 
moved to leave the room, adding finally: " I've come to stay, 
Tom ; I've brought my trunks." 

" So they were the earthquake ! ' exclaimed Hethering. 

I would have been the most obtuse of youths had I not per- 
ceived that I was treated precisely as some persons treat their 
servants speaking before them as if they had no ears to hear 
and, worse, tongues to utter what they heard. 

This was not the first intimation I had of Hethering having a 
sister. Harry had incidentally mentioned to me an Aunt Elsie. 






8o PAUL RING WOOD: AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. [Apr., 

She appeared to me to be the pleasantest of the family, bar 
Harry. She was not beautiful as was Mrs. Hethering; neverthe- 
less, she was very pretty, I thought. 

Hethering was now in a thoughtful mood and I in a sulky 
one, when Robert announced, " Mr. Elbert Ringwood." 

My brother was the same, yet how changed ! He looked to 
be twenty-seven or twenty-eight, and, whilst as handsome as 
ever, he appeared jaded and worn. The infallible signs of late 
hours, black circles about his eyes, were very visible in the light 
of the candles Robert was lighting. The greetings that passed 
between himself and Hethering were peppered with a slang that 
was so much Choctaw to me. 

" You don't see a friend ?" asked Hethering, smiling broadly. 

Lazily turning about, Bert eyed me through the glass stuck 
in his eye. " I'll be hanged !" was his drawled exclamation. 
" When did you turn up ?" 

Hethering's insolence mattered nothing to me now. 

" Bert," I said, a lump rising in my throat, " I have not 
sought you out ; this is altogether accidental " I stopped 
abruptly, not wishing to make an exhibition of myself. 

Bert flushed slightly, and muttered something about my 
always going in for the heroics. Hethering all the while eyed 
us with evident amusement. Presently my brother offered me a 
limp hand. It was a cold hand-shaking. 

"There is something in this compensation business, after all," 
Hethering was saying dreamily. '" Here am I, Tom Hethering, 
tutoring Elbert Ringwood in the way he should go in this 
naughtiest of worlds I'm original ; it is not the best of all 
possible worlds and our dear Elbert's* brother tutors Tom's 
son and heir on the road to wisdom's shrine. To quote dear 
Dolly Fern, it's too nice for anything." 

"Where does the compensation come in? Switched if I 
know," commented Bert. 

" You're obtuse, Berty. Don't you pay me, and don't I pay 
our most amiable of brothers ?" 

"All 'I have to say," exclaimed Bert, " if you pay him," jerk- 
ing his head towards me, " one-half as well as I pay you, he .has 
a pretty soft thing of it." 

" Don't be coarse, Berty," said Hethering soothingly. 

" Do you live here, Paul ?" Bert asked curiously. 

"I am still at Manresa College," I said, consoling myself 
wijh the fancy that I was ignoring Hethering in a very dignified 
manner. 



1889.] PAUL RINGWOOD: AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 81 



" Have a slight remembrance of your writing me that you 
were teaching in a college/ 1 Bert said carelessly. "Like it?" 
he asked bluffly. 

" Yes/' I answered short. 

" I wonder if Mrs. Hethering intends bringing his father's 
joy to dinner," Hethering said thoughtfully ; then, excusing 
himself, left Bert and me alone. A moment after we could hear 
him commanding, " Harry, go to your room ; you're not wanted." 
Close on this Mrs. Hethering could be heard speaking in an 
undertone. 

Bert laughed. "How do you like Hethering?" he asked. 

" Not at all," I replied with emphasis. " But never mind 
him. You're in Cecilsburg ; can't you come to see me, Bert?'' 

"Going away day after to-morrow," he replied. 

" Come around to-morrow; take dinner with me at three; the 
fathers will be glad to see you," I pleaded. 

" Hang the fathers !" ejaculated Bert. " I may drop in ; don't 
expect me, though.' 

Even this sort of promise was gaining my thanks, when 
Hethering entered alone. 

"Shall we go to dinner?' he proposed cheerfully. "Mrs. 
Hethering and my sister will meet us in the dining-room." 

Bert greeted Hethering's sister as an old acquaintance. I 
found out afterwards that they had met in New York and at 
Newport the summer before. He seemed quite taken back by 
Mrs. Hethering's beauty, and the frank admiration expressed in 
his face seemed to please Hethering. This is but conjecture ; he 
may have been indifferent. 

The dinner was elaborately served ; the dishes brought to the 
dining-room by servants who placed them on a sideboard, 
whence they were passed around to us by a butler aided by 
Robert. Hitherto my criterion of elegance had been my father's 
house. There was morfc show at Hethering's board, but not 
more elegance than had been at home, I thought. Only on 
extraordinary occasions had I seen three kinds of wine at home. 
Here there was, it seemed to me, a wine for every dish. 
Whether this was in good taste I am not versed enough in the 
ways of society to know. Nor am I sure that the ways of society 
are all tasteful ways. 

General conversation there was none. Bert tried Mrs. 
Hethering on several subjects with but little success. The 
theatre, but now she never went to the play. " Mr. Hethering 
and I used to go to Ford's " this was before the burning of that 
theatre " and the Academy," she said. 



82 PAUL RINGWOOD: AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. [Apr., 



Hethering, with his inevitable laugh, cried: " If that's meant 
for a reproach, Mrs. Hethering, we can go to-morrow night. 
Mrs. Daneger and Clara Dill have made up a party. I am 
going, why not you ? ' 

She shrank back in her chair and said, feebly smiling : 
" Thanks, I've lost all taste for it," 

" What a pity ! ' he returned sympathetically ; " You'd 
make such a fine tragedienne." 

Her face colored, and she said hastily to Bert : " I've read 
that novel-reading has diminished the interest once taken in the 



stage." 



" You are fond, then, of novels?' Bert asked. 

"Well," she answered, considering, "not very." 

"Then, my dear," said Hethering, "if you'll pardon my 
frankness, the remark you just now made about novels and the 
drama was not a very brilliant one." 

She shook her head and said : " No, I am not brilliant. I've 
just read a very good novel, however, Madame Craven's Fleur- 
ange. You've read it, Mr. Ringwood?' 

Bert put up a hand to conceal a yawn, for which yawn I 
could have knocked him down. No, he said, he had never 
heard of it. 

" It has one defect," I ventured. 

"Yes?' she said interrogatively. 

"I. do not like the idea of her marrying her cousin. Fleur- 
ange would have done better had she become a nun," I said with 
youthful dogmatism. 

"The nuns would not have her, if you remember; then, 
Fleurange had a dispensation," she said with some- eagerness to 
defend. 

Hethering had been listening attentively. " What was it the 
flower-angel got a dispensation for?' he asked me. 

"To marry," I replied. 

He smiled and said softly : " No wonder, wife, you like 
the book," turning to me and explaining : " Mrs. Hethering 
got a dispensation to marry me, for which Rome has my eternal 
gratitude." Bowing low to his wife, he added: "For you, my 
love, as Rome's fairest representative." 

If then and there he had cursed her, he could not have made 
us feel more uncomfortable. 

Miss Hethering up to this had said little. Now she spoke 
to Bert with assumed levity of certain mutual friends. I believe 
she wished to cover Mrs. Hethering's confusion. Levity, as I 
came to know, not being part and parcel of her. 



.] PAUL RING WOOD: AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 83 

They were laughing- over the vagaries of a certain Miss 
Simcoe, when Hethering, looking at me, laughingly called Bert's 
attention to the wonder expressed in rny face. " Harry's men- 
tor is apt to get lost in the tissue of folly you are weaving," he 
said. 

I was wrong in every way ! Considering all I had silently 
endured from the man, and, after it all, seating myself at his 
table, what right had I to cry out hotly : " You trouble your- 
self needlessly ; I have not asked for your guidance " ? 

Mrs. Hethering had a frightened look on her face ; it seemed 
to me Elsie Hethering's look was sympathetic; when Bert, rising 
to the occasion, said coldly : " I assure you, Paul, that you are 
wrong." Then he went on speaking with Hethering's sister. 

How boyish I felt ! I shrank back in my chair burning with 
shame, not lessened by the irritating, amused look on Hether- 
ing's face. 

When the black coffee was brought in Mrs. Hethering and 
Elsie Hethering got up from table and, though Bert and Hether- 
ing half-rose to do it, it was I who opened the door for them. 

Cigars and cigarettes were put on the table, and Bert and 
Hethering became altogether occupied with themselves. They 
babbled of their frolic of the night before, of a trotting-hors'e in 
which my brother was interested, using technical terms of the 
race-course strange to me. 

Having smoked a cigarette, I took a glass of seltzer-water 
from a siphon on the sideboard. 

" You'll find Mrs. Hethering and my sister in the drawing- 
room, probably," said Hethering. 

I took the hint, but before leaving them said: " Don't forget 
to come round to-morrow, Bert." 

" All right," he returned, " I'll try to make it." 

On the way from the dining-room I met Miss Hethering. 

"Harry is not well," she said, standing before me; "Mrs. 
Hethering has sent for the doctor." 

Expressing my regret, I suggested that it would be useless 
for me to come on the morrow. 

" Come," she answered. " Harry will be glad to see you." 

Then she put out her hand, letting it lie in mine for a moment, 
as she said : " We .are all grateful to you, Mr. Ringwood, for 
your kindness to little Harry." 

I was about to say there was nothing any one need be 
grateful for, but already she was on her way up-stairs. 
VOL. XLIX. 6 



84 PAUL RING WOOD: AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. [Apr., 

CHAPTER XXIX. 
A VISITOR. 

About half-past two the next afternoon Bert did show him- 
self. Class was just over, and I was washing my hands when 
the porter brought him to my room. I welcomed my brother 
as heartily as I knew how. 

" Felt curious to see how you're living," he said, as if an 
apology were needed to be made to himself for having com- 
mitted the folly of visiting me. 

" Good enough room, but why no carpet?' he asked when 
seated in my one easy-chair. 

" Because no one else has it," I answered. 

" You are not one of them ? ' he questioned suspiciously. 

11 One of what?" 

" One of the monks ? ' 

" There are no monks here." 

"Thought you esteemed monks; beg pardon," he said, 
stretching himself. 

" So I do ; that's not a reason, however, for my dubbing all 
my friends monks," I retorted, with that comfortable feeling one 
has in making a retort. "If you mean," I continued, "am I an 
ecclesiastic of any kind, or a member of any religious order, I 
am not, nor shall I ever be." 

" Haven't money enough ? ' asked Bert. 

Having stared at my brother, I said : " It is not a question 
of money ; it is a question of a calling. Money ! pshaw ! A 
Sixtus, one of our greatest popes, was a swineherd " 

"Hang it! drop church history; do," cried Bert, stifling a 
yawn. 

I tried him on the subject of our old home, but he took so 
little interest in it that I let it drop, and waited for him to sug- 
gest a subject more pleasing to him. 

Getting up from his chair, he walked to the window and 
stared earnestly at the heavens, abandoned them with a yawn, 
beat the devil's tattoo on the window-pane, and then, turning 
about so as to face me, asked abruptly : " What do you think of 
Hethering, now ? ' 

" That he is a scoundrel," was my warm response. 

Bert smiled. "Would not go that far," he said, "though I 
do believfi there are better men in jail." 

" Where, possibly, he'll be some day," I said bitterly. 



1889.] PAUL RINGWOOD : AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 85 

" No, he won't ! ' dissented Bert decidedly. " He'll never be 
under the ban of the law. Sister's uncommonly charming, isn't 
she? Pretty, too." 

" Yes, she's pretty," I replied. 

" She's immensely swell; don't you fall in love with her," ad- 
vised Bert coolly. 

" There, Bert, that's enough," I interrupted. 

" As you please," he returned. 

Somehow his visit gave me no pleasure, and I was not glad 
when he announced that he had come to stay to dinner. " I 
want to see the priests feed," he said. 

I reminded him that the priests were gentlemen, and if he 
had any idea of behaving otherwise than as a gentleman he had 
better get his dinner elsewhere. 

" Notwithstanding your polite hint for me to go away, I in 
tend staying," said Bert. 

The rector, Father Lang, was very kind and warm in the 
greeting he gave Bert, and put us in the places of honor at 
table, on either side of him. Bert behaved exceedingly well, 
and when we had gone back to my room the only remarks he 
made about the dinner were that the cooking was atrocious, 
and did they always say such a long grace ? 

" They generally say a much longer one," I^took satisfaction 
in replying. 

" It may be an appetizer, tantalizing one's self with the sight 
of the food one must not touch for such a length of time. 
Cools the victuals, though," said Bert flippantly. Ct Got any 
cigarettes ? ' 

Pushing tobacco and paper towards him, we rolled ourselves 
cigarettes and smoked a while in silence. 

Bert, who apparently had been in deep thought, said sud- 
denly : " If I were in your place, Paul, I'd have nothing to 
do with Hethering. The advice is good, whatever the adviser 
may be." 

" I have nothing to do with him as it is," I returned, laughing 
at Bert's half-expressed fears. 

r" You dined with him yesterday," he said accusingly. 
I explained that I had never met the man before, and could 
hardly see my way to refusing an invitation given with what 
I took to be sincerity. 
" That's Hethering all over," asserted Bert dryly. " He asks 
you to do what you don't care to do, and. you, can't well refuse 
him." 



86 PAUL RING WOOD: AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. [Apr., 

My assurance was given that there was nothing Hethering 
could get me to do unless I was minded to do it. 

" I don't suppose that my advice is very valuable," said Bert 
coolly; "it's not likely he'll have any use for you." 

It was not meant, but Bert had given* me a compliment. 

Shortly after this my brother left me. I had asked him if 
he would soon again be in Cecilsburg. He did not know, he 
said. Should he again be in the city, he would look in if he was 
in the neighborhood. 

Had I grown callous, or what ? When Bert left me I was 
glad he had gone, and I was not anxious for him to repeat his 
visit. There was no time to spare if I was to go to Harry 
Hethering that day. So, catching up my hat and coat, I hurried 
f romj the^, college. 

CHAPTER XXX. 
CONFIDENTIAL. 

As I neared the Hetherings' dwelling a doctor's coup6 driv- 
ing from its door prepared me for what Robert had to tell me 
when he let me into the hall. 

"Master Harry's got one o' his bad spells, sah," he said ; 
" reg'ly throwed back. I reckon you'd better go t' pah la tel I 
:see if you's t* go up, sah." 

In a few minutes Mrs. Hethering came to me. She looked 
tired, as if she had been up the night before ; otherwise her face 
;had that peaceful look on it I had already remarked. 

" My poor boy," she said, giving me her hand, " had a 
-wretched night. I am glad you have come ; he has been asking 
for you." 

Condoling with her, I followed her to Harry's room. The 
little fellow tried to raise himself on his pillow to greet me, but 
was fain to be satisfied with stretching out his wasted hand. I 
wondered if the mother could see the mark Death had placed on 
him. 

" I've been waiting for you all afternoon," he said, scarcely 
.above a whisper. " That's mamma's chair," feebly motioning to 
a chair at his side ; " you sit there." 

Bending over him, I kissed his forehead, then sat down 
where he had told me to. With an effort he vainly strove to 
hide he called, "Mamma!" 

In a moment Mrs. Hethering was by his side asking, " What 
iis it, son?" 



.] PAUL RING WOOD: AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

" Go lie down, mamma," he begged ; " Mr. Ringwood is 
going to stay with me." 

A respectable negress, with snowy wool under a Madras 
handkerchief, whom I had not noticed before, added her entrea- 
ties to Harry's. At last she allowed herself to be persuaded 
when Harry said: " Aunt Elsie will come soon, and she will be 
with me." At the door Mrs. Hethering turned and asked me to 
come again to see Harry. 

" Of course he will ; he's not going to let me off my lessons," 
said Harry, smiling jocosely. 

His little attempt at being sarcastic pleased his mother, and 
her face lit up with a hope not pleasant to see when one thought 
how soon it must be dashed. 

"Mahs," said the colored woman when we were alone, " el 
you wants me, jes ring that yah bell. l'se gvvine to cl'ar up a 
clutter uv glass en things en de bahf-room." 

Harry, his hand in mine, lay for some time looking earnestly 
at me. At last he said: "You know I'm going to die?' 

I did not deny it; I only said in a choked voice: "You must 
try to get well for your mother's sake." 

His eyes were still fixed on me as he said : " Every time I say 
'Our Father 'and * Hail Mary* I ask to be a strong man, but I 
don't think God '11 say so." 

I tried to speak, but could not. 

" You're my only friend, Mr. Ringwood I mean man-friend," 
he added loyally. " Of course, mamma's my pwnest friend, and 
next to her Aunt Elsie ; but she's away most times." 

Why I said it I do not know, but I told him to call me Paul ; 
it would sound more friendly. Yes, he said that he would, and then 
asked me to give him a drink. I gave him some of the orange- 
leaf tea on the table. He said that it was good, and thanked me. 

When I was again seated by his side he said timidly : " Paul ' 
and stopped. I smiled encouragingly, and he went on : " It 
seems strange at first. Paul, I want you to help Aunt Elsie to 
do something for mamma." 

" Your mother has many friends," I said evasively. 

" She has no one but Aunt Elsie and me," he said sadly, 
almost despairingly. 

There was nothing for me to say, and for a moment there 
was no sound in the room save the ticking of Harry's watch on 
the table at my side. 

" You must think a lot of me," Harry broke the silence to say, 
" or you wouldn't have told me to call you Paul. Men don't 



88 PAUL RING WOOD : AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. [Apr., 

ask little boys to call 'em by their first names unless they do," 
he added sagely. 

I assured him that he was very dear to me. 

" If I didn't believe so, I couldn't tell you," said Harry. 
' I'm afraid," he continued in a whisper, " that when he can't 
whip me he'll beat mamma." 

" What makes you think so, Harry?' I asked in a shocked 
voice. 

" Yesterday," he answered uneasily, " there was an awful 
fuss. Mamma wanted me to go to dinner with her, and I said I'd 
like to. He said I was a mule, and he'd teach me, and mamma 
said he shouldn't whip me, I wasn't strong. I took off my 
coat, I always do," he explained in simple parenthesis, u and 
he pushed mamma away, and took a cane and struck me three 
times, when it. all went in splinters. Mamma got down on her 
knees and begged him to beat her instead, and he said not so 
long 's he had me. Then Aunt Elsie came in and he went 
away." 

It cost me an effort before I could ask : " He has whipped you 
before ? " 

" He always does when he comes home. I never cry because 
of mamma, but I always get sick. I an't brave; I'm afraid of 
him ; I can't help it. Don't you think he meant he'd whip 
mamma when I am dead ? ' he asked. 

Instead of answering him, I questioned : " The day you were 
sick in class your father had been home?' 

He answered yes, and then in disconnected prayers besought 
me to save his mother from his father. 

I trust I will be forgiven the consoling promises I made him, 
promises I knew full well I could not keep. What man is there 
who dares to step in between husband and wife ? I tried to 
comfort myself with the thought that Harry's fears were exag- 
gerated, but in vain. I had seen the man. 

The old negress came back to the room to light the night- 
lamp and to give Harry his medicine. I sat there for some time 
stroking his hair. At last the monotonous motion had its effect, 
and he fell asleep. As it was almost nine o'clock I rose to 
go, meeting Elsie Hethering at the door. 

" He is asleep," I whispered. 

" Then he is better! * she exclaimed under her breath. " Mrs. 
Hethering is completely broken down. It will kill her, Harry" 
death." 

We were now in the corridor outside the closed door of 



1889.] PAUL RING WOOD: AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 89 

Harry's room. I did not know how sadly I was gazing at her 
till she cried softly, " Harry has been telling you ! ' 

I made a feint of not understanding her. Not deceived, she 
asked : " You will keep your own counsel as to what a poor, sick 
child has told you ? I am not fortunate in my brother, but you 
can understand that Mrs. Hethering and myself dread public 
scandal." * 

The simple shaking of my head satisfied her, and before I 
could speak she said : " You will get nothing at the college at 
this hour; Robert has supper waiting for you. When I heard 
you were here I gave orders ; Mrs. Hethering would wish it, I 
know." 

Barely touching my hand, she entered Harry's room and, 
somewhat bewildered by the confidential position in which I 
found myself placed, I went down to the dining-room. I was 
not in a mood for eating, but Elsie Hethering's thoughtfulness 
pleased and surprised me. It was surprising, viewed in the light 
of her thoughtless chatter on the evening before. 



CHAPTER XXXI. 
FLICKERING. 

There was never again question of lessons for Harry. Days 
there were when the least sanguine might have hoped for his 
ultimate recover}^ days when he was dressed and seated at 
the window for hours, looking at the passers-by ; days when he 
was carried to the conservatory, there to take little walks, sup- 
ported by Elsie Hethering on one side, myself on the other, his 
mother seated on a rustic bench watching him anxiously. 

I always saw Elsie Hethering there, and though nothing was 
ever said of it, it was tacitly understood that we were to do all 
we could to cheer the unhappy mother and her little boy. For 
the little I did Elsie showed subtly an altogether uncalled-for 
thankfulness. 

Doctor Stancy, who was physician to the college as well as 
to Harry, happened one day to pass my room. My door was 
open, and I asked him if he would walk in for a moment. 

" It is not about myself, doctor," I said ; " I want to ask you 
about Harry Hethering. Do you have hope for him ? he does 
not seem to grow worse." 

On my table a small lamp was burning before a statuette of 
the Mother of God. 



90 PAUL RING WOOD : AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. [Apr., 

"The flame burns low but steadily," he said ; then, gently ex- 
pelling his breath, extinguished it. 

" Will you interpret, doctor ? ' 1 asked smiling. 

The doctor carefully relit the lamp, as carefully wiped the 
tips of his fingers with his handkerchief, and said : "The boy may 
last a good many months; he will never be strong, and it will 
take very little to put his flame out." 

" A sudden fright, for instance," I suggested tentatively. 

He looked steadily at me, as if questioning how much I knew, 
and said : " Yes, he could not stand a jar of that kind." 

" Doctors are like confessors," I returned. " It is to be hoped 
Mr. Hethering will find it pleasant to remain where he is." 

The doctor appeared taken aback by what I said. " Mr. 
Hethering's occupations keep him much from home," he re- 
sponded coldly. Then, before I could speak, he abruptly bade 
me good morning. 

No one less than myself likes being told to mind his own 
business. The doctor's manner had told me to mind mine, and 
I was miffed over it. Second thoughts caused me to admire a 
man who could keep his own counsel, and T felt humbled when I 
remembered how nearly I had revealed Harry's secret to one 
possibly not acquainted with the unhappy state of affairs existing 
in the Hethering family. 

A letter had been written by me to Father Clare in which I 
spoke of Elsie Hethering's devoting herself to Mrs. Hethering 
and little Harry. I wrote as I felt, warmly. A few days before 
Christmas an answer came, the first letter I had received from 
Father Clare since he went away. He is the only man I have 
ever known who never did an unnecessary thing and never left 
undone what was necessary. 

He wrote, he said, to send me Christmas greetings and be- 
cause of something I had written him. " Without intending it, 
you have let me see very far into your heart." 

I laid down the letter and looked out on the falling snow, a 
cold chili creeping over me. It was only then that I knew my 
heart myself. I had to wait a few moments before continuing 
the reading of my friend's letter. 

" I fear you are laying up unhappiness for yourself. Put aside self- 
love and listen patiently to me, Paul. Have you reflected, Paul, on what 
your position in life is and what is that of Miss Hethering? She is not a 
rich girl, it is true, for she is entirely dependent on her brother's good- 
will. He allows her a certain income, and he desires very much that she 
marry your brother Elbert " 



1889.] PAUL RINGWOOD : AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 91 

God forgive the wicked, angry feeling that made my blood 
tingle! Was he to take everything from me? 

"your brother Elbert, a marriage that I earnestly hope will never 
take place. Poverty with you or some one like you would be infinitely pre- 
ferable to her, a Catholic, marrying a man without any religion at all. (By 
the bye, Miss Hethering owes her conversion entirely to Mrs. Hethering's 
good example?) 

" I do not believe you are ever likely to gain the love of this young girl, 
and for this reason, more than any other, I write so plainly. If I am hard, 
forgive me, dear boy ! I do not want you to be made miserable by what 
may be avoided. If needful, give up your visits to the Hetherings. Try 
to see this matter through your father's eyes. They are old eyes, Paul, 
but they see well for you. Is it a great sacrifice I ask of you ? Do not 
wait till it be too hard. Ask the great Guide of all to help you follow in 
his path, the path we so often allow to become grass-grown. God bless 
you, Paul ! 

" Your loving father in Christ, 

" WM. CLARE." 

Neither that day nor the next did I leave the college ; but on 
the day after, which was the eve of Christmas, there came a little 
note from Harry Hethering, and with it a bunch of hot-house 
roses. The note was poorly written, and no doubt had caused 
him much trouble. In it he asked why I had not been to see 
him, and said that he and his Aunt Elsie had picked the roses for 
me. " It is not a really Christmas gift," he wrote, " and the frost 
bit some of the roses." 

I wondered which she had gathered, and selecting a rose I 
thought might have been her choice, held it in my hand. I chose 
this one because of its being less showy than the others ; Harry 
would hardly have noticed it. Putting it in water apart from 
the others, I made my preparations for going out. 

There was something to be done before I could go to the 
Hetherings. I had written Father Clare a long letter, promising 
to be advised by him, intending to send it with a trifling gift. 
Destroying this letter, I wrote a short one of Christmas greeting 
and, with the gift, sent it that day. 

Now that I was going to them, it seemed to me that I could 
not get away from the college quickly enough. Never had my 
toilet seemed to me so tedious, never had I been so anxious to 
appear well. No girl ever examined her face more carefully than 
I did mine that day. Knowing that I was ugly, it gave me 
pleasure to discover that my eyelashes were long, that my eyes 
were not bad. Ridiculous as this is, it was of great moment to 
me. 






92 PAUL RING WOOD : AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. [Apr., 

The rose I had set apart I put in my buttonhole, carefully 
buttoning my overcoat so as not to injure it. 

Whilst Robert was helping me off with my overcoat he told 
me how glad Harry would be to see me. " We reckoned you 
mus' be sick when you didn't come like you wuz use to come. 
Right up-stairs, sah," he said, grinning as he pocketed the 
Christmas remembrance I slipped into his hand. 

Harry was alone, and in a breath welcomed and reproached 
me for having remained away for three days. I put him off with 
some idle excuse, which he received trustingly. 

When I had seated myself at his side Harry suddenly burst 
out laughing. He seemed to be laughing at nothing, and when 
I asked him what caused his mirth he said that he would tell me 
after a while. 

At first Elsie's absence did not trouble me. The pleasure of 
being in a room familiar with her presence was enough for me. 
As the minutes went by and she did not come I grew uneasy, 
betraying my anxiety by looking towards the door whenever a 
step was heard in the corridor. 

" You are looking for Aunt Elsie ? She'll be home soon ; she's 
gone with mamma to confession; you know to-morrow's Christ- 
mas day," informed Harry. 

" Paul," he continued after a moment, his voice trembling 
with eagerness, "I have some good news to tell you. I am 
going to make my First Communion New Year's day." He 
spoke with bated breath, his cheeks flushed, a shining light in 
his eyes. 

Seven years on the morrow since I had made mine! This 
I told Harry, congratulating him, holding his hand in 
mine. 

Whilst I was congratulating him the door opened, and Mrs. 
Hethering came in with Elsie. I no longer would have de- 
murred had any one called her beautiful. 

In her innocence of what was in my heart, she held my hand 
for a moment as she said : " You have been ill ? You are not 
looking well." 

Flushing with pleasure at her taking even that much interest 
in my welfare, I stammered out something about being subject 
to headaches. 

Then she let me help her off with her cloak, and I remem- 
ber that there were some specks of dust on it which I re- 
moved. 

" Now I am going to tell you what I was laughing at," piped 



1889.] PAUL RING WOOD: AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 93 

Harry. " Look, aunty, that rose I picked you said wasn't 
worth picking; Paul's got it in his button-hole." 

" Mr. Ringwood wishes to show you that he appreciates your 
flowers," said Elsie as, throwing her cloak over her arm, she left 
the room. 

My face reddened uncomfortably. I had thought of the 
flowers only as coming from her, and had not said a word of 
thanks to Harry. 

" That's the reason you never said anything ; you wanted to 
show me ! " cried Harry, clapping his hands. " Where are you 
going, mamma?' he called, seeing his mother about to leave 
him. 

" May not mamma put on a house-dress ? " Mrs. Hethering 
asked, smiling. 

" Of course," said Harry, saying it with that pretty Cecils- 
burg way of partially obliterating the r t producing a sound that 
cannot be expressed in signs. 

" It was Aunt Elsie who picked all the big white roses," 
said Harry when we were alone. " Foley " the gardener 
" wouldn't let me touch 'em. Mamma said I might send you 
some Christmas, and Aunt Elsie, she said, send you some 
flowers ; she noticed you were fond of flowers." 

So, in a way, it was she who had sent me the flowers. 

My stay was long that afternoon. Elsie Hethering was but a 
little while with us, and I do not suppose that she addressed me . 
half a dozen times during my visit. 

HAROLD DIJON. 

TO BE CONTINUED. 



94 THE CONGRESS OF THE COLORED CATHOLICS. [Apr., 



THE CONGRESS OF THE COLORED CATHOLICS. 

THE Congress of Colored Catholics which convened at Wash- 
ington at the opening of the year called forth many singular 
criticisms in the Protestant religious press. At this late day it 
must seem strange to educated Catholics to be told that slavery 
in one form or another has always found its strongest support in 
the Catholic Church. The proceedings of the congress, so 
orderly and so imposing, made a profound impression among all 
classes at the national capital. And the supposed ne'w interest in 
colored people lately emancipated from slavery finds its true 
answer in ages in which the church worked on what may be 
called its sociological side. Three events of recent date exhibit 
the spirit of Catholicity, and the Congress of Colored Catholics 
was fortunate as to the time of its sessions in view of these facts : 
First, the Cardinal-Archbishop of Baltimore, who not only 
gave the congress his earnest approval but his personal pres- 
ence, had just published an excellent paper, " The Relative 
Influence of Paganism and Christianity on Human Slavery," in 
the American Catholic Quarterly Review; secondly, Cardinal 
Lavigerie had delivered at a meeting in London an admirable 
speech, entitled " Slavery in Africa"; and, lastly, our Holy 
Father, Leo XI II., recognizing the good work of the Brazilian 
Chambers in passing a law freeing every slave within the ter- 
ritory of the empire, spoke noble words of congratulation in a 
brief addressed to the bishops of Brazil. Peter has spoken by 
the mouth of Leo. Despite such events, which represent the pres- 
ent position of Catholics, our colored brothers in the faith are 
often imposed upon by subtle arguments drawn from ecclesiasti- 
cal history to exhibit the past, and thereby show the supposed 
change which now dominates the Catholic Church in her work 
for the African. It is not our purpose to present the good effect- 
ed by the first Congress of Colored Catholics, as the supplement 
issued by the Church News of Washington contains a pretty ac- 
curate account, but it is our duty to say in passing that nothing 
marred each day's proceedings. The spirit of charity, good 
will, and loyalty to the teachings of the church was apparent to 
all who watched the course of the congress from first to last. 
Among these were the clergy of the city, both secular and 
regular, and laymen who felt a just pride in the good manners, 



1889.] THE CONGRESS OF THE COLORED CATHOLICS. 95 

good humor., and general intelligence of the colored Catholics 
assembled from different States. But is it just that the ribald 
sneer of the critics who are always ready to revamp old, thread- 
bare charges against the church should go unanswered ? Has the 
Catholic Church in her past history nothing to demonstrate that 
as far as it lay in her power she had been the friend of the slave 
long before the African was stolen from his home by English 
slavers in the times of Queen Elizabeth? Let us turn to history 
to see how the facts answer the charge that the Catholic Church 
is just awakening to the momentous issues which must always 
affect the well-being of her children, whether bond or free. 

The boundless power which the church possessed and exer- 
cised in times of bloodshed and devastation was an inestimable 
trust committed to her by God to protect the weak from cruelty 
and injustice of tyrannical rulers, and to establish order arid 
equity upon the immutable principles of Christian forbearance. 
Among the art treasures which Mr. Thomas E. Waggaman, the 
large-minded Catholic of Washington, has collected in his gallery 
is Laurens' " Fredegonda." No 'description in the catalogue gives 
even a hint as to the career of evil connected with this execrable 
woman. What the infamous Fredegonda's vengeance and heart- 
lessness would have attempted arid executed had not the church 
had the power to save Pretextal, Bishop of Rouen, and Gregory 
of Tours from her bloody designs is but one of the numberless 
examples which the times afford of the beneficial mediation of 
ecclesiastical strength in restraining the fury of royal arrogance 
and ambition. 

The inherent rights of man as the creature of God, and the 
brotherhood of universal humanity, found their essential truth in 
the great central fact of the Catholic faith, the mystery of the 
Incarnation. The marriage of humanity to divinity changed 
for ever the relation which master and slave bore to each other, 
and opened to each the same wonderful destiny, as co-heirs 
with Christ, of a citizenship in the heavenly kingdom. When 
our Lord took upon him our nature and elevated the human 
race to the right hand of the Father a revelation of equality 
and brotherhood was made which was entirely foreign to the 
then existing opinions of human liberty. Heathen civilization 
knew nothing of the relation of man to his fellows, and the ser- 
vitude which was interwoven with all that was truly good and 
great in pagan economy was the natural outgrowth of that 
system of false religion which pertinaciously adhered to this 
institution long after Christianity had uprooted the worship of 



96 THE CONGRESS OF THE COLORED CATHOLICS. [Apr., 

the heathen deities of the old world. The Romans were exten- 
sively engaged in the slave-trade on the coasts of Britain and 
Africa and in the Euxine. The historian of the decline and fall 
of the Roman Empire remarks: 

"We are informed that when the Emperor Claudius exercised the office 
of censor he took an account of six millions nine hundred and forty-five 
thousand Roman citizens, who, with the proportion of women and children, 
must have amounted to twenty million of souls. The multitude of sub- 
jects of an inferior rank was uncertain and fluctuating. But after weigh- 
ing with attention every circumstance which could influence the balance, 
it seems probable that there existed in the time of Claudius about twice as 
many provincials as there were citizens of either sex and of every age, 
and that the slaves were at least equal in number to the free habitants of 
the Roman world." * 

And a later writer makes even a larger estimate than that of 
Gibbon. So thoroughly had the institution of slavery become 
identified with all the interests of both public and private life in 
the ancient world that it was not only sanctioned, but even re- 
ceived the earnest approval of the astutest moralists, while more 
humane views were often expressed by others, f Tacitus re- 
lates that Pedanius Secundus was murdered by one of his slaves, 
and that in such an event, according to the ancient custom, all 
slaves dwelling under the same roof were subject to capital 
punishment; but the clamor excited was so great that it extended 
even into the very senate. Caius Cassius gave his vote in favor of 
the general law of death on such occasions, and from his address 
to the assembly we learn incidentally that the number of slaves 
in the household of Pedanius was four hundred ; and yet this 
number is comparatively small, for men of greater wealth and 
higher station could count their slaves by thousands.;): 

When we view the early labors of the Christian Church, the 
miraculous transfiguration of heathen character into the mild and 
submissive disciple of the Divine Master, the new code of law 
which was to govern the lives of Christ's followers, we wonder 
that an institution so alien to the religion of Christ should have 
existed for ages in the Christian Church. Many of the early con- 

* Smith's Gibbon, Am. ed., vol. i. p. 179. 

t Milman remarks on the recognition of slavery in the Justinian code as follows : 'The 
broad distinction of mankind into freemen and slaves is the unquestioned, admitted ground- 
work of legislation. It declares, indeed, the natural equality of man, and so far is in advance of 
the doctrine which prevailed in the time of Aristotle, and is vindicated by that philosopher, 
that certain races or classes of men are pronounced by the unanswerable voice of nature, by 
their physical and intellectual inferiority, as designed for and irrevocably doomed to servi- 
tude." Lat. Christianity, Am. ed., vol. i. p. 491. 

\Annal., xiv. 43. 



1889.] THE CONGRESS OF THE COLORED CATHOLICS. 97 

verts who attested the truth of Christ in martyrdom and were 
lights to the world in the days of persecution were slaves, and 
most commonly of heathen masters. The familiar name of 
Onesimtis is at once suggested to the mind, and from early evi- 
dence there is reason to believe that Calixtus I., Bishop of Rome, 
while in youth was in servitude. It was a common taunt among 
the heathen philosophers of that day that the advocates of the 
new religion found willing followers among women and slaves. 
The self-opinionated Roman felt that the teachings of the Son of 
God might suit imbecility and humble social position, but that 
its claims and influence upon Stoic philosophy were unworthy of 
even attentive consideration. A religion, however, that could 
elevate the ignoble slave from sensuality and wickedness to lead 
a life of purity and piety, that could so train him in the hardy 
virtues of earnestness and zeal for his higher Master that he 
would even gladly approach the martyr's death rather than yield 
a denial of the faith that made him a new creature such a reli- 
gion commanded the love .and faith of large-minded men, who, in 
learning the equal of pagan teachers, demonstrated with wonder- 
ful force that the contempt with which they sought to cover the 
faith of Christ was in fact a sublime lesson of its reality and its 
power in moulding the affections and consciences of men. 

That the early church remained passive upon this great 
moral blight of the times is no argument in behalf of her 
acknowledging the right of man to hold human beings redeemed 
by the blood of Christ as property. To abolish an institution 
which had gathered strength from the protection of civil power, 
and which long custom had upheld and vindicated, in the nature 
of the case required greater force than the church then had 
over the spirit of the times. Moreover, the development of those 
principles which remodelled society had not got sufficient control 
of the public mind to enable the church to shape and direct the 
spirit of social institutions ; her life was enfeebled by persecu- 
tion, and the gravest questions, upon which her own well-being 
in a measure depended, called for urgent and continued atten- 
tion. Slavery, also, was so general, and the number of slaves so 
large, that it was evident that immediate emancipation must be 
extremely hazardous, even if it could be accomplished. Time 
was required to prepare society and the slave population for a 
change of such vital consequence. The only office that the 
church could perform in a state of things so complicated was to 
infuse love and charity into all the relations of life ; that while 
each was hallowed and God honored, in process of time the 



98 THE CONGRESS OF THE COLORED CATHOLICS. [Apr., 

antagonistic elements of an effete civilization would be readjusted 
and its evils pass away. Lactantius speaks the mind of the primi- 
tive church when he writes that " with God no one is a slave, 
no one is master. If the same father is over all, then by the same 
law all are free." * Emancipation was not unusual even in an 
early age, and the act after the third century was accompanied 
with great religious solemnity. It frequently took place imme- 
diately after the administration of baptism to members of the 
master's family on some of the greater festivals, at which the 
sacrament was generally administered. Hermas, a Roman pre- 
fect, was converted to Christianity in the reign of Trajan ; he 
and more than twelve hundred slaves were baptized, after which 
they were all liberated. Chromatius, a prefect also, in the time 
of Diocletian, manumitted fourteen hundred at his baptism. It 
is true that churchmen in different ages were not superior to the 
sociological environment surrounding them. Walter de Beau- 
champ, in the reign of Henry III., in assigning land to another, 
transferred one Richard and all his offspring, f At a later 
period, as we learn from the same source, a certain Roger Felton 
sold lands, chattels, and progeny. \ William of Malmsbury re- 
lates that the English frequently brought cargoes of slaves from 
Ireland and offered them for sale in the public places; he adds 
that the nobles sold young women in pregnancy. Githa, the 
daughter of Canute, speculated in English slaves, and found in 
Denmark her most profitable market. Ecclesiastics, as well as 
feudal lords, were slave-holders, and the isolated instances of in- 
human treatment exercised toward the unhappy slave by mer- 
cenary and cruel churchmen cannot be taken as proof that the 
Catholic Church exerted no salutary influence in mitigating the 
evils of the system, or that she gave a tacit or implied sanction 
to its continuance. Cur omnium fit culpa, paucorum scelusf 
Butler, in his Analogy, fully meets a like objection made against 
the truth of Christianity, and it applies here with equal force : 

" It may indeed, I think, truly be said that the good effects of Chris- 
tianity have not been small ; nor its supposed ill effects any effects at all 
of it, properly speaking. Perhaps, too, the things themselves done have 
been aggravated ; and if not, Christianity hath been often only a pretence, 
and the same evils, in the main, would have been done upon some other 
pretence. However, great and shocking as the corruptions and abuses of it 
have really been, they cannot be insisted upon as arguments against it upon 
principles of theism. For one cannot proceed one step in reasoning upon 

*"Nemo apud eum servus est, nemo dominus ; si enim cunctis idem Pater est, sequo 
jure omnes liberi sumus." Inst. v. 14. 

f Madox, Formulare Anglicanum, p. 188. \ Idem, p. 315. 



1889.] THE CONGRESS OF THE COLORED CATHOLICS. 99 

natural religion any more than upon Christianity without laying it down 
as a first principle that the dispensations of Providence are not to be 
judged of by theirperversions,but by their genuine tendencies ; not by what 
they do actually seem to effect, but by what they would effect if mankind 
did their part : that part which is justly put and left upon them.'' * 

Notwithstanding- the great influence of the church, many 
causes were at work which tended rather to the extensionT'of 

fa 

slavery than the progress of freedom. Enfranchisement entailed 
upon the slave the necessity of self-defence. The former master 
put aside the responsibility of protecting or aiding the manu- 
mitted slave, inasmuch as he was no longer his property. The 
slave, in consequence, frequently refused manumission, and even 
freemen became slaves to obtain support and security. In titties 
of famine and pestilence the poor often went into voluntary 
servitude, that they might satisfy the gnawings of hunger or 
escape the ravages of malignant disorders. In such perilous 
times the monasteries opened their gates to the indigent and the 
afflicted, and their cells were filled with an outcast people whose 
only resting-place was within the cloistral walls. Glaetfleda, as 
related in a manuscript of the church of Durham, emancipated 
several slaves, whom she had purchased to save from the violence 
of famine. It may safely be said that when manumission was 
granted to the slave in the middle ages the motive which 
influenced the act was always prompted by the teaching of the 
church, and that freedom was bestowed upon the poor bond- 
man that the donor might obtain in return some special blessing 
from heaven, such as the remission of sins or the salvation of 
the soul. Milman gives too little credit to Christianity in bring- 
ing about general emancipation. The church, without doubt, 
was chiefly instrumental in preparing society for the govern- 
mental changes which, in a measure, operated in tardy liberation. 

" The great change," says the late Dean of St. Paul's, " in the condition 
of the servile order arose chiefly from other causes besides the influence 
of Christianity. This benign influence operated no doubt in those indirect 
ways to a great extent, first on the mitigation, afterwards on the abolition 
of domestic slavery, but it was perhaps the multiplication of slaves which 
to a certain extent slowly wrought its own remedy." t 

Gregory the Great, and it is not improbable many humbler 
men, released slaves from love to God and in honor of his Son, 
in whom bond and free are united by the hopes of a common 
destiny. Manumission was not unusual at the death of the 

* Part ii. c. i. t Lat. Christianity, vol. i. p. 532. 

VOL. XLIX. 7 



ioo THE CONGRESS OF THE COLORED CATHOLICS. [Apr., 

master. It was even recommended to the dying by the church 
in her sacerdotal ministrations, and she lent to the act of emanci- 
pation, as it was read from her altars, the high solemnities and 
ceremonies of a gorgeous ritual. 

Thus the church was the faithful guardian of the poor and 
the oppressed in her offices of mercy to the sick and dying, so 
that, while she ministered spiritual consolation in the hour of 
death, she also pleaded for temporal blessings for her afflicted 
children. 

The Crusades were another means of liberation to the slave, 
for all who enrolled under the church's banner to wrest the Holy 
City from the yoke of the infidel were no longer bondmen, but 
the obedient children of a spiritual mother. If civil enactments 
had not limited this mode of manumission, it is reasonable to 
conjecture that slavery was fast approaching its final overthrow. 
The priesthood of the church was open to men of all classes. 
Caste or hereditary prerogative was never known or acknowl- 
edged by her. In maintaining this principle of a well-organized 
republic the church alone taught and upheld that of human 
equality ; and when secular powers were under the domination 
of the privileged few she gathered strength from every quarter. 
From the squalid home of the slave, from the roof of the laborer, 
and from the feudal dwelling of the baron her ranks swelled in 
numerical importance. Offices of highest dignity and trust 
lodged in her hands were open to the emulation of all, and her 
chiefest posts of honor often invested the humblest with ecclesi- 
astical distinction and responsibility. Hence, we find the tiara 
placed on the head of a carpenter's son, and that son the great 
St. Gregory VII., who became the representative man of the 
age, and whose presence on the stage of European politics 
moulded the course of civilization. It was from this democratic 
system of organization that much of the power which the church 
held and used in the troubled ages of the past was derived. 
This diversity of origin in the priesthood gave to it collectively 
a more real interest in the ever-varying vicissitudes of life and 
unfolded broadest latitudes of influence and usefulness. The 
church's ambassador, by reason of the prerogatives of his exalted 
station, had access to the monarch's palace, as well as to the hut 
of the serf; while in many cases a common lineage with the 
latter gave the man of God an almost imperial power over this 
miserable class. At the font the church gave to the slave and 
the prince each his name ; at her altars they received the mar- 
riage-seal, and the same bells pealed their nuptial chimes and 



1889.] THE CONGRESS OF THE COLORED CATHOLICS. 101 

tolled their funeral knell. When each were laid to rest under 
the shadow of the church's cross, in her consecrated ground, she 
remembered both in the Adorable Sacrifice, in the same beauti- 
ful litanies and tender intercessions : 

" Our mother the church hath never a child 

To honor before the rest, 
But she singeth the same for mighty kings 

And the veriest babe on her breast ; 
And the bishop goes down to his narrow bed 

As the ploughman's child is laid, 
And alike she blesseth the dark-browed serf 

And the chief in his robe arrayed." 

The church was the friend of the oppressed in all lands, and 
in proportion as her counsels were followed the nations ad- 
vanced in law and liberty. Her presence and influence disarmed 
feudalism of many of its worst features and gave to civil codes 
the fundamental idea of all law, that in conformity to the divine 
principles of truth, right, and justice lay the only enduring basis 
of judicial strength and greatness. " There is no better test," 
says Lord Brougham, "of the progress a people are making at 
any time than the improvement of their jurisprudence." * Be- 
fore the year 688 the slaves of the Saxons labored through the 
entire week. Sunday brought its rest to all others, but to the 
slave was no remission from toil till the church secured for all 
classes, by legislative enactment, freedom from work on that 
day. 

"The Christian clergy indeed did all they could to mitigate its hard- 
ships," says Kemble, "but when has Christianity itself been triumphant 
over the selfishness and the passions of the mass of men ? ... In yet 
pagan times general kindliness of disposition, habits of domestic inter- 
course, perhaps the suggestions of self-interest, may have tended to raise 
the condition of the serf even to the restoration of freedom ; but it was 
the especial honor and glory of Christianity that, while it broke the spirit- 
ual bonds of sin, it ever actively labored to relieve the 1 heavy burden 
of social servitude." f 

After the Conquest the sale of slaves into foreign countries 
and into heathendom was entirely prohibited, and the shocking 
abuses and heartrending cruelty consequent upon that trade 
were thus abolished. \ The African continent is strangely 
fitted by its physical condition not only for an isolated exist- 
ence, but also for becoming the great slave-market from which 

* England and France under the House of Lancaster, p. 10. 

^ Saxons in England, b. i, c. 8. J Heywood's Anglo-Saxon Government. 



io2 THE CONGRESS OF THE COLORED CATHOLICS. [Apr., 

the cupidity of the modern world would replenish her traffic so 
long as a system of human bondage held footing on the earth. 
Watered by few rivers and hemmed in by a pathless waste of 
deserts, it was impossible that commerce should penetrate into 
Central Africa ; and the insuperable barriers which impeded its 
civilization rendered it also a sure and lasting repository of the 
slave-trade, while the excessive heat of its climate so enervates 
the dispirited inhabitants that they have furnished the servile 
populations to the more powerful peoples of the world. At what 
date African slavery took its rise cannot now be accurately de- 
termined, but it certainly began in a remote period of mediaeval 
history, for Leo Africanus mentions that the King of Borneo ex- 
changed slaves for horses with the merchants of Barbary. To a 
Dominican friar and confessor of Charles the Filth the illus- 
trious Dominic Soto of Tridentine name " belongs the signal 
(honor," says Sir James Mackintosh, " of being the first writer who 
-condemned the African slave-trade." In a public lecture given 
.at Salamanca Soto said : 

" It is affirmed that the unhappy Ethiopians are, by fraud or force, 
carried away and sold as slaves. If this be true, neither those who have 
taken them, nor those who purchased them, nor those who hold them in 
bondage can ever have a quiet conscience till they emancipate them, 
even if no compensation should be obtained." * 

Sir James thus comments on this passage : 

" It is hard for any man of this present age to conceive the praise 
which is due to the excellent monks who courageously asserted the rights 
of those whom they never saw against the prejudices of their order, the 
supposed interests of their religion, the ambition of their government, the 
avarice and pride of their countrymen, and the prevalent opinion of the 
.times/'f 

The Congress of Colored Catholics, with the presence and 
sympathy ot Father Tolton, a priest of their own race frequent- 
ly officiating in the beautiful church of St. Augustine, and the 
zeal and courage of the Josephite Fathers in behalf of the color- 
ed people, have indeed opened a new era which few could fore- 
see. It must, in view of the past labors of the Catholic Church, 
which knows no race, no color, be a glorious era to all who have 
intelligence enough to comprehend the object and the work of 
that congress. Critics will always arise when the evidences of 
.Catholic progress alarm those not of the faith. To the genera- 
tions of the ages the church, to adopt the exquisite imagery of 

*De fust, etjure, lib. iv. quasst. ii. art. a. t Ethical Philosophy, vol. i. p. 52. 



1889.] THE CONGRESS OF THE COLORED CATHOLICS. 103 

the evangelical prophet, was as an hiding-place from, the wind, 
and a covert from the tempest ; as rivers of water in a dry place ; 
as the shadow of a great rock in a weary land.* Be it ours to 
allay in our humble measure the discontents which agitate our 
nation, and by moderate concessions conciliate the aggravated 
temper of the times and preserve to those who shall follow us 
the noble heritage of our fathers endeared by happy associa- 
tions. Be it ours, as true children of the church, to rise superior 
to petty prejudices and meet the momentous issues which the 
present position of the African race in our day presents. Happy 
will it be for our land if, at this crisis of affairs, the voice of the 
Catholic Church, built on the Rock of Ages, be not drowned in 
the tumult of angry passions and of local prejudices. The 
church of the past rises in this age with new-found energy and 
girds herself for the great mission opening before her on this 
continent. Let each colored Catholic be a torch-bearer of the 
truth and, in the measure of the ability God has given to him, 
put into practice the great lesson of the congress so manifestly 
exhibited during its sessions, that every colored Catholic is a 
la)' missioner to his race. If the colored population heed the 
teaching of Catholic truth, they may enter in and possess the 
peace, security, and strength which the church alone can be- 
stow, and the church of the future will be to them what she has 
been to the weary and heavy-laden in the past, the medium of 
all spiritual blessings, the haven in which all kindreds and peo- 
ples may rest till the final day break and the shadows flee away. 

A. J. FAUST, PH.D. 

Washington , D. C. 

* Isaias xxxii. a. 



104 THE LETTERS OF THE LIBERATOR. [Apr., 



THE LETTERS OF THE LIBERATOR.* 

IT is very difficult to form a correct estimate of a man's char- 
acter from the statements of his friends or his foes; and this is 
particularly true in the case of Daniel O'Connell. No man was 
more hated and no man was more loved than he. He was the 
most thoroughly abused public character of his time, and he was 
also the most lavishly praised. In the eyes of his enemies he 
was a demagogue ; in the eyes of his friends he was a demi-god. 
In reality he had nothing in common with either. He was not a 
demagogue, and he was altogether human. 

Half a dozen different lives of the Liberator have been here- 
tofore published, but they do not convey an impartial estimate 
of his character ; they are panegyrics quite as much as the fa- 
mous orations of Padre Ventura and Wendell Phillips. 

The present publication, containing his consecutive corre- 
spondence from his boyhood to the close of his remarkable 
career, gives us the real mental photograph of the man as he 
lived and moved and fought for faith and fatherland. Here we 
have the actual thoughts and feelings and inspirations of the Lib- 
erator in the heat of action, dashed off by his own hand, from 
day to day, and month to month, and year to year. And thus 
we have revealed to us what manner of man he was. Indeed, it 
would be difficult to find a series of letters in which the writer 
stands out so fully revealed. There was nothing studied about 
the correspondence of O'Connell. Of letter-writing as a fine art 
he seems to have had no thought. We are even disappointed to 
meet with so little of the diplomatic style in the letters of a 
statesman. And there are only here and there traces of that 
powerful rhetoric which constituted so much of the strength and 
charm of his public utterances. His correspondence is plain, 
straightforward, vigorous, the reflection of his every-day life and 
energy, and hence the best possible clue to his character.' 

The letters of the Liberator, as presented to us in these vol- 
umes, do not readily lend themselves to classification, though we 
think the correspondence might be summed up in a general way 
under the following heads: political, business, family, and letters 
of friendship. The political, however, predominates, and in- 

Correspondence of Daniel O'Connell the Liberator. Edited, with notices of his life and 
times, by W. J. Fitzpatrick, F.S.A. New York: Longmans, Green & Co. 2 vols. 8vo. 



1889.] THE LETTERS OF THE LIBERATOR. 105 

trudes itself constantly into all the others. A large proportion 
of the correspondence is addressed to Mr. P. V. Fitzpatrick, for 
many years the confidential friend and agent in whom O'Connell 
implicitly trusted and who served him with absolute fidelity to 
the end. There was no reserve in this correspondence, and the 
letters on all topics are frank and open to the last degree. Let- 
ters, both public and private, addressed to the leading men of 
the time, from Archbishop MacHale to the Duke of Wellington, 
are in fair abundance and full of interest. The domestic corre- 
spondence, consisting chiefly of letters addressed to his wife, will, 
we think, attract no small amount 'of attention, for in these epis- 
tles we have a new light thrown on the Liberator and a beauti-. 
ful phase of his character unfolded to us. Taken altogether, the 
collection is a fairly complete one, and it is, moreover, an honest 
one. The aim has been to present the image of O'Connell 
which he himself has unconsciously cast, and, while the best 
features are shown in a favorable light, the blemishes are not 
concealed. 

The constant impression which the perusal of this cor- 
respondence is calculated to produce is that love of country and 
the desire for her advancement was the motive power of O'Con 
nell's life. This great fact stands out on every page, and history 
furnishes but few parallels to such patriotism as his. He was 
partly educated on the continent of Europe, he made his legal 
studies in London, he was absent from his native land at the 
period of life when the strongest ties are formed, yet no sooner 
did he return to Ireland in his young manhood than he con- 
secrated his life to the service of his country. He was ambitious 
in an unusual degree, he was bent on attaining the highest honors 
and emoluments of his profession, and he entered the law with 
this determination. Nevertheless, he at once espoused the cause 
of the people and deliberately cut himself off from every avenue 
of legal preferment under the British crown. The civil disabili- 
ties under which his co-religionists suffered such crying injustice, 
their inequality before the law in their own land, rankled in his 
soul day and night, and, like another Moses, he resolved, cost 
what it might, to lead his people out of bondage. And so the long 
and fierce struggle for Catholic Emancipation became the conflict 
of the courage, the devotion, and the genius of one man against 
the power and prejudice of an empire. Others there undoubtedly 
were who bore their part in this struggle, but when we men- 
tion Catholic Emancipation we invoke the name of Daniel 
O'Connell. 



ic6 THE LETTERS OF THE LIBERATOR. [Apr. 

Regarded from the simplest standpoint of justice, the demand 
for equal rights under the constitution seems the most reason- 
able thing in the world, the very first principle of political equity; 
yet for a quarter of a century the greater part of the intellect, 
the wealth, and the power of England were arrayed against it, 
and were it not for the force and ability of the Irish leader this 
simple appeal for common right would have been denied many 
years longer. In reading over the letters written by O'Connell 
during the heat of this controversy, one can hardly help entering 
into his feelings and sharing in his indignation against the pre- 
judice that stifled every sense of justice and upheld palpable 
wrong in the name of loyalty to king and country. We are 
astonished, too, at the intense feeling of personal hostility which 
was aroused against the Liberator on purely political grounds. 
King George IV. sincerely hated him, the Duke of Wellington 
could not endure him, and English mothers frightened their 
children with the bugbear of O'Connell simply because he car- 
ried Catholic Emancipation. And stranger still, the English 
Catholics, whose rights he had vindicated and secured, looked 
askance at him and treated him not merely with ingratitude, but 
with positive mistrust and dislike. Catholicity and disloyalty 
have been so much identified in the popular rnind of Great 
Britain that English Catholics, in their anxiety to establish their 
loyalty, have shown a decided inclination to adopt the most hide- 
bound conservatism. 

The victory of Catholic Emancipation won, O'Connell began 
the agitation for the Repeal of the Act of Union. His great pur- 
pose was to endeavor to unite the whole population of the 
country in the movement, and from the very first he made the 
most liberal and flattering advances to the Protestant party to 
make common cause with their Catholic fellow-citizens, but 
without much result. " I would cringe to no man," he said, " but 
I would join with every man who wishes well to Ireland." 
Some of his stanchest friends and supporters were indeed Pro- 
testants, but the prejudice of the Orange faction was too dense to 
be dispelled by any cry of common country or hope of national 
autonomy and prosperity. They held the ascendency, and that 
to them was more than country or justice or aught else. It is 
much the same thing to-day, though a Protestant, not a Catholic, 
is the leader of the present movement. 

O'Conne.11 clearly saw that the only remedy for Ireland was 
legislative independence; all other measures of relief were mere 
temporary expedients and could produce no lasting benefit to the 



1889.] THE LETTERS OF THE LIBERATOR. 107 

country. " It is absurd to suppose," he wrote (vol. i. p. 291), 
"that anything- else [except repeal] can save Ireland"; and 
again he wrote (vol. I. p. 388): "We can never thrive without 
repeal." . . . " No solid or substantial good can be done for Ire- 
land until we have a domestic legislature in Dublin." How 
entirely the history of the sixty years that have since elapsed 
demonstrates all this ! But the Act of Union had been purchased 
at too high a price to be readily surrendered. From the moment 
the movement for repeal was broached it met with opposition of 
every kind. O'Connell knew very well the tremendous odds he 
had to face, and if at times he appears to have been over-sanguine, 
he certainly did not under-estimate the forces arrayed against 
him. He had great faith in the good sense of the English peo- 
ple, and he believed that the justice of his cause would gradually 
impress itself upon them and win the majority around to his 
side. He was very cautious in launching the movement before 
the British public, so cautious, indeed, that some of his followers 
in Ireland became impatient and forced him into somewhat pre- 
mature parliamentary action on the subject. That he was justi- 
fied in trusting to the good sense of the English people to sooner 
or later recognize the justice of his demand recent events would 
seem to confirm, but his hopes of uniting his Protestant and 
Catholic fellow-countrymen in the movement for repeal were 
not so well grounded ; and, however solid and well marshalled 
the Catholic hosts might be, there was always an enemy in the 
rear that disconcerted their action. Had the firm union of 
Orange and Green been effected, national autonomy would in all 
probability have been secured under the leadership of O'Connell ; 
but, instead of the measures of relief which he sought for his af- 
flicted country, the government, backed by the Orange party in 
Ireland, gave only measures of repression, so that his time and 
his talents as a parliamentary leader were taken up in fighting 
coercion bills far more than in pushing forward the great object 
of his life, the Repeal of the Union. 

The letters of the Liberator written from the House of Com- 
mons during this period read not unlike the newspaper reports 
of to-day. 

The Times and the Tories occupied the same relative posi- 
tions and were engaged in the same schemes. The Whig 
wing, then the chief wing, of the Liberal party was false and 
faithless to all its promises and professions. The lord lieuten- 
ant and the chief secretary for Ireland played the role of op- 
pression. Partisan judges and ignorant magistrates enacted 



io8 THE LETTERS OF THE LIBERATOR. [Apr., 

the same round of injustice, and prime ministers proclaimed 
their Irish policy a great success. The country, forsooth, was 
on the eve of permanent peace and prosperity. O'Connell's 
comments on the political personages and events around him 
were not always couched in dignified language ; he sometimes 
resorted to abusive names and contemptuous epithets of very 
questionable propriety. Without doubt the provocation was 
very great, and the extraordinary facility he possessed in this 
direction was in itself a constant temptation to him ; neverthe- 
less, we cannot help feeling that everything of this kind detracts 
somewhat from the character of so great a man. We are, 
moreover, inclined to the belief that some little at least of the 
opposition he encountered and the dislike he engendered was 
due to his exasperating invective, nor do we share in the opinion 
of those who seem to think that this was a prominent element 
in his success. 

The Repeal agitation has written an interesting chapter in 
the political history of the nineteenth century, and the man 
who led it has impressed his personality on the age and securely 
established himself as the great popular leader of modern times. 
O'Connell was in advance of his time, and he may have at- 
tempted too much, but none can gainsay his transcendent ability 
or question the elevation of his aims and the purity of his mo- 
tives. The same old controversy still goes on, and men con- 
tinue to honestly hold opposite opinions upon it, but it is difficult 
at this date to entertain a very high respect for the intelligence 
of any full-grown man who fails to see that English legislation 
has no potency to heal the ills of Ireland. 

There was nothing insular about Daniel O'Connell, notwith- 
standing his intense absorption in the affairs of his native land. 
His views on all public questions were broad and consistent, 
and his sympathies were universal. Every people struggling 
for their liberties had his earnest support. He sent his son 
Morgan off to Central America to fight under the standard of 
Bolivar, and he was himself arrested for upholding the right 
of a foreign revolution. In his attitude towards slavery O'Con- 
nell was an out-and-out abolitionist. He fought as vehemently 
in the British House of Commons for the emancipation of the 
slaves in the West Indies as he did for the freedom of his own 
people. He maintained individual liberty as the right of every 
human being and constitutional liberty as the right of every 
people. He was a democrat, and he made no apology for it. 
When his democratic views were attacked he proudly appealed 



1889.] THE LETTERS OF THE LIBERATOR. 109 

to America as a proof of the power of democracy to found 
great institutions and to promote the welfare of mankind. 
" What country in the world is it," he asked (vol. I. p. 397), 
"in which the national debt is on the verge of extinction; in 
which taxation is reduced to the lowest possible quantity ; in 
which peace reigns within its borders; in which abundance 
crowns the labors of the fields; in which commerce and do- 
mestic industry flourish and increase ; in which individual 
happiness rewards the private virtue and enterprise of the citi- 
zens ; and which in fine is honored abroad and prosperous at 
home ? It is a democracy America." 

There was nothing commonplace about O'Connell, and his 
private life was almost as much out of the ordinary as his public 
career. At an early age he made a love match ; it might even 
be called a hasty marriage ; but in this case there was no repent- 
ance. The love of his youth seemed to increase rather than 
diminish with his advancing years, and the letters he addressed 
his wife at sixty were quite as ardent love-letters as those he 
wrote her at twenty-one. Outside the literature of romance it 
would not be easy to find anything more love-laden than this 
connubial correspondence, and the affection it discloses was as 
manly as it was tender and sincere. After thirty years of such 
wedded life it is not to be wondered at that the death of his 
wife gave the faithful heart of O'Connell a shock from which it 
never fully recovered. The love^he lavished on his children was 
on a par with that bestowed on their mother. The tone of affec- 
tion he assumed towards his sons was robust and boyish, that 
towards his daughters was gentle and sympathetic. The few 
letters we have in this collection addressed to his children are 
models of fatherly feeling and fond devotion, and they were cal- 
culated to produce the happiest impressions on the youthful 
minds of the recipients. The family ties of such a man must 
have been a constant strain upon him in his public life. O'Con- 
nell was not without his share of human vanity ; he liked to have 
his influence recognized by men in high position, and when, as 
sometimes happened, prime ministers came to court his support 
and take counsel with him, and prominent statesmen sought his 
aid, he naturally enough felt flattered ; but he would at any time 
have gladly exchanged all the honors and attentions he received 
for a quiet week with his family at Darrynane. His most beau- 
tiful traits of character appeared in the congenial atmosphere of 
home, and love of country alone made him freely sacrifice the 
joys of his domestic life. He was also a most enthusiastic lover 



i io THE LETTERS OF THE LIBERATOR. [Apr., 

of his native Kerry hills, and whenever he referred to them in 
his letters he at once fell into the most pronounced poetic exag- 
geration. 

The Liberator had from time to time misunderstandings with 
some of his immediate political associates; he did not readily 
brook opposition from such vastly inferior men, and this gave 
rise to the supposition that he was not constant in his friendship. 
Such, however, was far from being the case. Misunderstandings 
did not sever the bonds of his friendship, and he was the most 
forgiving man in the world. Malice had no place in his great, big 
heart. He clung to some who had shown themselves unworthy 
of his esteem to the last, and no pains were too great and no 
labors'too exacting when devoted to the service of his friends, as 
his letters abundantly testify. In 1842 he said in a letter to the 
Earl of Shrewsbury (vol. ii. p. 286): "I do not believe that I ever 
had in private life an enemy. I know that I had and have many, 
very many, warm, cordial, affectionate, and attached friends. Yet 
here I stand beyond controversy the most and the best abused 
man in the world." 

The religious side of O'Connell's character receives a new il- 
lustration from the publication of his correspondence. The 
depth of his faith, the warmth of his devotion, his loyalty to the 
church, and his trust in God constantly appear and reappear on 
these pages. In nothing was he more Irish than in his faith. 
The study of theology had a good deal of attraction for him, 
and he dabbled considerably in it, so that his faith was in the 
truest sense an enlightened faith, but it was none the less an 
implicit faith, and no shadow of doubt crossed its serene horizon. 
Fed by such a living fountain of faith, his devotional spirit was 
ever fervent, and he found strength and comfort in prayer and in 
the sacraments such as the saints themselves have experienced. 
He was an obedient son of the church, and his obedience was 
lovingly given, for his religion was dearer to him than aught 
else. No crusader ever took the cross and did battle for the 
Christian cause with more ardor than he fought for the church, 
and the services he rendered religion were to him the most 
gratifying of all his labors. He was always ready to give a rea- 
son for the faith that was in him, and in his bold and open profes- 
sion and manly vindication of his religion he resembled St. Paul. 
He never let slip an opportunity of bearing witness to the truth, 
and his life in this respect was little short of an apostolate. 

Charity was, of course, a conspicuous attribute of such a 
generous nature as O'Connell's. His income was always large, 



.] THE LETTERS OF THE LIBERATOR. in 

whether from his earnings at the bar or from the Repeal Rent, 
but his hands were always open and his pockets always empty. 
His name headed the list of every deserving charity, and misfor- 
tune, under whatever guise, never appealed to him in vain. He 
was a landlord, and his conduct towards his tenants in times of 
distress was that of a father; ail their wants were supplied at his 
expense. The best beeves were killed and the meat distributed 
amongst them, and clothing and fuel and medical attendance were 
furnished them. On one such occasion he wrote to his agent 
(vol. i. p. 413): "As far as I am concerned, spare no expense that 
can possibly alleviate the sufferings of the people. . . .HI 
could contribute to save one life, I would deem it a great blessing 
at the expense of a year's income." 

The sufferings of the poor greatly affected him, and he would 
make any sacrifice to relieve them. His whole life was a vast 
scheme of benevolence. When the fearful famine came he 
urged and threatened and implored the government to make 
some adequate provision to meet it and check its ravages, but to 
little purpose. And when he saw the resistless advance of 
hunger and disease he turned away from the misery he could no 
longer assuage with a broken heart, and the vision of sorrow and 
death haunted him to his grave. His imprisonment, no doubt, 
impaired his health, but it was the famine which crushed his 
spirit. 

In this review we have not attempted to go into any detail 
of O'Connell's life and work ; we have merely touched on a few 
points which his correspondence particularly suggested. And 
these may not even be the most salient points in his career, but 
they seem to us to present those traits of character which are 
most worthy of consideration in one of the greatest men of 
modern times. 

EH WARD B. BRADY. 



ii2 TALK ABOUT NEW BOOKS. [Apr., 



TALK ABOUT NEW BOOKS. 

APPLETON'S Town and Country Library seems to us not 
greatly enriched by its first February issue, Raleigh Westgate ; or, 
Epimenides in Maine, by Helen Kendrick Johnson. The book 
is not ill-written, and it contains some rather amusing scenes, 
descriptive of the hero's adventures as travelling agent for a 
work on the Physical Features, History, and Religious Progress of 
New England, from the Time of the First Danish Visitors until the 
Present Day ; but the scheme of it is school-girlish Vassar-school- 
girlish, perhaps, since the execution as well as the second title 
of the romance is a trifle pedantic. There is no harm in it, how- 
ever. 

Gertrude's Marriage (New York: Worthington Co.) is 
smoothly translated from the German of W. Heimberg by Mrs. 
J. W. Davis. It is a tale of married life, constructed after a tol- 
erably well-known formula, and in the homely manner which our 
German brethren chiefly favor. Gertrude is rich and pretty and 
good ; she is also anxious that her money shall not be the bait 
which secures the happy man on whom she is willing to bestow 
herself and all that is hers. Given those conditions, one natur- 
ally expects to find her masquerading as a penniless orphan long 
before the middle of the tale is reached, and is pleasantly sur- 
prised to find that the transformation scene has been omitted, 
and that nothing more unusual than a domestic duet of uninter- 
rupted billing and cooing seems in store for the reader. But 
the necessary misunderstanding by which the wife shall be made 
to believe -that she has been a mere bargain, and on account of 
which she^ shall obstinatelv hide herself from the husband who 

*/ *> 

loves fir and utterly refuse to listen to his explanations, is only 
deferred) .not abandoned. Of course they settle their difficulties 
in the en'd, and leave one thankful, as usual, for that perennial 
supply of very young people, skirting about the terra incognita of 
the natural affections, who make the production of innocent, un- 
exciting fiction a recognized and, we hope, a paying industry. 
The book is illustrated in photogravure by W. de Meza, but not 
attractively. 

The Poems of Alexander Pushkin (Boston: Cupples & Hurd), 
done cut of the Russian into the curious Russian-English of 



1 889 ] TALK ABO UT NE w BOOKS. 1 1 3 

his admiring compatriot, Ivan Panin, are likely to remind 
the light or careless-minded reader of a certain Portuguese- 
English grammar which was got out in good faith a score 
of years or so ago, and which professed to initiate the 
Portuguese youth of an inquiring turn into the mysteries 
of " English as she is spoke." Of course it would be an ex- 
tremely light and careless-minded reader who should venture to 
put such a reminiscence into plain speech a reader who had 
failed to observe that Mr. Panin's translation is in its second edi- 
tion, and who was sufficiently inadvertent of prevalent literary 
fashions not to accept the word " Russian " as the equivalent of 
plenary inspiration. If we had on our hands the charitable task 
of saving such a hasty critic from his subsequent despair, we 
should remind him that poetry is in its essence a matter of form 
not less than of suggestion, an affair of sound, cadence, and 
rhythm, a thing so light and evanescent that it is dangerous to 
bring it too near the edge of that abyss where pathos tumbles 
into bathos. Some of these little poems would go so readily into 
poetic English without sacrificing one jot of their fidelity to the 
original taking Mr. Panin as the judge of that fidelity that it 
really seems a pity that the present translator has trusted so im- 
plicitly to his own knowledge of a tongue not native to him. 
The Russians are the best linguists in Europe say those who 
know, and we remember Daudet's lament over Turgenieff's un- 
willingness to write in French. Still, in the interests of Push- 
kin's poetry, one can but wish that Mr. Panin had felt something 
of the same modest reluctance to handle the edged tools of for- 
eign speech enough, at least, to have got himself edited and 
his needlessly comic inversions weeded out. He would not 
then have spoiled the pretty verses called "A Winter Morn- 
ing" with lines like these: 

" To meditation invites the sofa. ^A*" 5 

But know you ? In the sleigh not 
The brownish mare-to harness? 
Over the morning snow we gliding 
Trust we shall, my friend, ourselves 
To the speed of impatient steed." 

Or those entitled " Winter Evening' by this formless query: 

" With melancholy and with darkness 
Our little aged hut is filled. 
Why in silence then thou sittest 
By the window, wife old mine ?" 





ii4 TALK ABOUT NEW BOOKS. [Apr., 

Here is a comparatively unspoiled poem, "The Angel," one 
of the best in the whole collection : 

" At the gates of Eden a tender angel 
With drooping head was shining; 
A demon, gloomy and rebellious, 
Over hell's abyss was flying. 

" The Spirit of Denial, the Spirit of Doubt 
The Spirit of Purity espied ; 
And a tender warmth unwittingly 
Now first to know it learned he. 

"Adieu, he spake, thee I saw: 
Not in vain hast thou shone before me ; 
Not all in the world have I hated, 
Not all in the world have I scorned." 

The biographical preface and the critical introduction by Mr. 
Panin which precede these poems is worth reading, partly for 
the essential truth they contain and partly for the naive self- 
sufficiency and cheerful egotism which they embody. His 
horror of mixed metaphors, and the enthusiasm with which he 
brings down his critical hammer on the heads of Shakspere, 
Wordsworth, Shelley, Longfellow, and other offenders against 
" truth" in that respect is mildly entertaining. 

Mr. William S. Walsh reprints from Lippincotfs and other 
magazines a number of brief essays which he calls Paradoxes of a 
Philistine (Philadelphia : J. B. Lippincott Co.), a title whose 
terms he is at some pains to explain in the "Apologia" which 
prefaces them. " Explaining metaphysics to the nation," said 
Byron of Coleridge ; " I wish he would explain his explanation." 
What I mean by a paradox is an unrecognized truth, sa}^s Mr. 
Walsh, and for Philistine read Anti-Prig. His essays are chatty, 
agreeable, pleasantly written, without salient points, and bear in 
all cases a strong general resemblance to that "Little Essay on 
the Commonplace," which the author amuses himself and the 
reader by embodying in the paper called "A Plea for Plagiar- 
ism." Not that we accuse Mr. Walsh of the sin which he con- 
siders so venial ; it is not so much his expression which we find 
lacking in individuality as the whole drift of what we take to be 
his meaning. Possibly his meaning is one of those truths which 
our density fails to recognize. Don't let us be too positive, he 
seems to say don't let us overcharge ourselves with convictions 
or with admirations. The greatest man is extremely like our- 
selves. Should we examine closely into that by which he seems 



.] TALK ABOUT NEW BOOKS. 115 

to overtop us, we should probably find him walking on false 
soles or wearing a too high hat. Nobody is infallible " there is 
the Pope, to be sure, but even he claims that prerogative within 
the narrowest limitations, and only a small fraction of the world 
is willing to yield him credence." . Truth is the one thing neces- 
sary if that be necessary, which the Philistine but tentatively 
holds therefore, don't let us turn up our noses too arrogantly 
over the mean and disenchanting details concerning our heroes 
which the new school of biographers are daily digging out of 
the sewers of the past. Have we not all secrets which we should 
extremely dislike to have unveiled ? And is there anything but 
comfort in learning that our demi-gods have had just the same? 
Are we accused of reading and liking pernicious trash Ouida, 
and Rhoda Broughton, and Ame*lie Rives ? though Mr. Walsh 
has thought well to omit the latter name from the place it origi- 
nally occupied in one of these papers. Who is to be the judge of 
what is trash and what is not? Was it the critics of his time 
who most rejoiced in Shakspere, or was it the groundlings? 
Would we not all we who seek to make our living by our pens 
-rejoice if we could get the crowd on our side ? All of which in- 
sinuations, if they be not recognized as strictly true, have long 
been so well known as truisms eminently adapted to the use of 
caterers to the public taste, that when used by one they bear an 
unmistakable air of special pleading. 

A Daughter of Eve (Boston : Ticknor & Co.) is by the author 
of The Story of Margaret Kent, a facile writer who loves the 
world so well, and who is so careful to avoid the flesh and the 
devil, that she should have a successful career before her. She 
seems to us a better sort of Edgar Fawcett, fond, like him, of 
New York " good society," and far more skilful in the avoidance 
of platitudes and vulgarisms. Her present story is an advance 
upon her last one, Queen Money, and though the actual benefit to 
be derived from reading it is imperceptible, yet as mere enter- 
tainment it can do no harm. 

The untiring Miss Charlotte M. Yonge, who was writing 
tales for good boys and girls so long ago that the earliest gene- 
ration of her readers must be grandparents by this time, has just 
got out another on the same old lines, Beechtroft at Rockstone 
(New York: Macriiilldn & Co.) There are fewer children in it 
this time, or, to be accurate, though Miss Yonge begins with just 
as many, yet tlrey are separated by a family crisis early in the 
story, and the fortunes of only three of them are minutely fol- 
lowed. But these three are just as good and j-ust as bad as ever ; 
VOL.^XLIX. 8 



u6 TALK ABOUT NEW BOOKS. [Apr., 

just as preternaturally well instructed, even to the point of call- 
ing their kittens Artaxerxes and " the S jfy," because " a Sofy is 
a Persian philosopher, and this kitten has got the wisest face." 
And the same complications are gone through with to teach the 
great evil of concealing one's doings from one's elders, even 
when those doings appear on the face of them to be all that is 
commendable and wise. But the charm of the early tales is gone 
or else we have gone too far beyond it. The Heir of Redclyffe 
still stands out as so pleasant a memory of childhood that the 
grateful reader is loath to believe that the kindly hand which 
produced it has lost something of its cunning. Still, three hun- 
dred pages, more or less, of fine print seems a good deal of 
space to give, nowadays, to work like this, and we doubt 
whether the latest generation of young folks, brought up on 
"Dotty Dimple" and " Pinky Blue " and the illustrated chil- 
dren's papers, will take so spontaneously to Miss Yonge as did 
those of their progenitors who passed on to her from the a Rollo 
Books" and " Simple Susan." 

Llmmortel has been admirably translated from the French of 
Alphonse Daudet, by A. W. Verrall and Margaret de G. Verrali, 
under the title The Immortal; or, One of the "Forty" (Chicago 
and New York: Rand, McNally & Co.) What is still more re- 
markable than the correct and. sparkling rendition of the original, 
is the fact that the illustrations by Emile Bayard really illustrate 
the text and are an aid to the reader's imagination. L Immortel 
is an old story by this time. It is a skit at the Acactimie Fran- 
$aise, and, as is usual with M. Daudet, his characters are lightly 
disguised portraits from the life. It is a powerful book, but, like 
most that M. Daudet has written, it is not cheerful reading. 
Even Le Petit Chose was not that, delightfully amusing as it is in 
parts. M. Daudet does not gloat over vice ; we have more than 
a suspicion that he cordially detests it. Nevertheless, the at- 
mosphere of his books, even of this one, which is comparatively 
free, is, if not steeped in corruption, at least redly suffused with 
it. What a master of pathos he is ! With what light, unerring 
strokes he paints the dreadful scene in which Astier-R6hu's wife 
unveils her true self to him after the cold intimacy of thirty-five 
years, strips him of the last shreds of vanity and self-respect, and 
drives him to suicide, that inevitable refuge for M. Daudet's 
disappointed heroes ! He comes home from the court where, 
like the honest man he is, he has endured the torture of proving 
himself a fool that he may not be esteemed a knave, hoping for 
one night at least to forget himself in sleep. 



1889.] TALK ABOUT NEW BOOKS. 117 

"Sleep ! Never had he so much felt the need of it as now, at the end of 
his long day of emotion and fatigue, and the darkness of his study as he 
entered seemed the beginning of rest, when in the angle of the window he 
dimly distinguished a human figure. 

" ' Well, I hope you are satisfied.' It was his wife! She was on the 
look-out for him, waiting, and her angry voice stopped him short in the 
dark to listen. ' You have won your cause ; you insisted on making your- 
self a mockery, and you have done it daubed and drenched yourself with 
ridicule till you won't be able to show yourself again ! Much reason you 
had to cry out that your son was disgracing you. to ins-ult and to curse your 
son! Poor boy ! it is well he has changed his name, now that yours has 
become so identified with ignorance and gullibility that no one will be 
able to utter it without a smile. And all this, if you please, for the sake of 
your historical work ! Why, you foolish man, who knows anything about 
your historical work? Who can possibly care whether your documents 
are genuine or forged ? You know that nobody reads you.' 

" She went on and on, pouring out a thin stream of voice in her shrillest 
tone ; and he felt as if he were back again in the pillory, listening to the 
official abuse as he had done all day, without interrupting, without even 
a threatening gesture, and feeling that the authority was above attack 
and the judge not to be answered. But how cruel was this invisible 
mouth which bit him, and wounded him all over, and slowly mangled in 
its teeth his pride as a man and a writer ! His books, indeed ! Did he 
suppose that they had got him into the Academic ? Why, it was to his 
wife alone that he owed his green coat ! She had spent her life in plotting 
and manoeuvring to break open one door after another; sacrificed all her 
youth to such intrigues, and such intriguers, as made her sick with disgust. 
' Why, my dear, I had to ! The Academic is attained by talent, of which 
you have none, or a great name, or a high position. You had none of 
these things. So I came to the rescue.' And that there might be no mis- 
take about it, that he might not attribute what she said only to the exas- 
peration of a woman wounded and humiliated in her wifely pride and her 
blind maternal devotion, she recalled the details of his election, and^re- 
min-ded him of his famous remark about Madame Astier's veils that smelt 
of tobacco, though he never smoked, 'a remark, my dear, that has done 
more to make you notorious than your books.' 

" He gave a low, deep groan, the stifled cry of a man who stays with both 
hands the life escaping from a mortal rent. The sharp little voice went on 
unaltered. . . . ' This is more than I can bear,' muttered the poor man as 
he fled away from the lashing fury. And as he felt his way along the walls, 
and passed the passage, down the stairs, across the echoing court, he mut- 
tered almost in tears, ' More than I can bear, more than I can bear!' 

Roberts Brothers reprint, apparently from the second Lon- 
don edition, Miss Olive Schreiner's powerful novel, The Story of 
an African Farm. It was first published in 1882, and in its 
American dress has been lying on our table for several months- 
It is a book which, for the evidence it gives of native, individual 
force, as well as of first-hand observation and a first-rate capacity 
for recording it, we rate very high. The brief bit of personal 



n8 TALK ABOUT NEW BOOKS. [Apr., 

history which Miss Schreiner has just consented to print, in 
Scribner's February Book Buyer, indirectly confirms the impres- 
sion, so strongly given by the book itself, that it is in certain ways 
autobiographical. " My father was a German, born in Wurtem- 
berg," writes Miss Schreiner. 4< He studied at Basel, and went 
to South Africa as a missionary. My mother is English, the 
daughter of a Presbyterian minister, and for generations my an- 
cestors have been strict Puritans. I was born in the heart of 
South Africa, on a solitary mission station. I was many years 
old before I saw a town. My father died many years ago. My 
mother has become a Roman Catholic and is living in a convent 
in South Africa." Rightly or wrongly who can decide except 
their delineator? one sees here the genesis of the German over- 
seer and of Lyndall. In the next, and final, paragraph of this 
curtest of memoirs Miss Schreiner incidentally disposes of the 
report which has described her novel as the work of a girl of six- 
tteen by saying that, although she began it " when almost a 
child," she left it for some years before finishing it. 

To sum up the book briefly, to pack it in a nutshell and label 
it, is not possible. It is what a vivisection might be could it lay 
bare the throbbing heart, the nerves sentient with pain, the brain 
made the organ of a'new knowledge, and then close up the 
gashes and let all go on again as if nothing had been disturbed. 
The turmoil of life is there, the repose of death seems to threaten, 
but the end has not come. The spectator is an intruder. Miss 
Schreiner's novel is like that. It is a piece of intense life, lived 
on the narrowest plane, selfish to the core even in what seem to 
be its aspirations, fighting for its desires and unable to appease 
them, seeking God as the great Purveyor, measuring Him now. 
by the gauge of superstition and again by that of its own craving, 
and denying Him because neither foot-rule will answer. It is all 
this, and, notwithstanding, it is not wholly repulsive, for it is 
sincere. It is a cry out of the depths, as if a soul had been let 
down alive into hell without malice, and it fills one with a great 
ipity. There is no posturing here, no affectation of " culture," 
nor dilettante second-hand criticism, such as Mrs. Humphrey 
Ward baited her hook with to catch the swarming mass of polite 
(readers ready to snap at excuses for casting off such rags of faith 
as were still left them. What is here is personal and has been 
deeply felt, and hence it is respectable even in its excesses. For 
sincerity there is always compassion, and usually there is hope. 

There is a great deal in the book, too, which interests, aside 
from its main driit That seems to be to indicate the road by 



1889.] TALK ABOUT NEW BOOKS. 119 

which Waldo passes into hopeless atheism out of the'undoubting 
but torturing belief in a God, who, from the day when He made 
men, has been sending all but a predestined few into inevitable 
damnation. The boy has the soul of a dreamer, and a just 
and kindly heart. But his beliefs are narrow, and his Bible is to 
him what it has been to Protestant pietism more often in the past 
than it is ever likely to be again, except in cases of just such isola- 
tion and ignorance as that in which Miss Schreiner has placed 
her hero. That is, it is not merely literally true, but every 
precept and prophecy in it may be " made by private interpre- 
tation." So made by the hapless Waldo, the victim of meanness, 
cruelty, and injustice, it breaks down completely. God does not 
send down a fire to consume the boy's mutton-chop when he 
sacrifices it to Him, nor does He stop on their road to hell that 
endless procession of souls which Waldo is constantly thinking 
of and pra}nng for. So the time comes when the boy relieves 
his heart of a great secret and a great burden ; when he kneels 
down under the full African moon, and, unable to pray or weep 
any longer, says : 

" ' I hate God ! I love Jesus Christ, but I hate God.' The wind carried 
away that sound as it had done the first ; then he got up and buttoned his 
old coat about him. He knew he was certainly lost now; he did not care. 
If half the world were to be lost, why not he too? He would not pray for 
mercy any more. Better so better to know certainly. It was ended now. 
. . , Better so but oh, the loneliness, the agonized pain, for that night, 
and for nights on nights to come ! The anguish that sleeps all day on 
the heart like a heavy worm, and wakes up at night to feed !" 

Beside Waldo, the German boy, there is Lyndall, the beauti- 
ful little English girl, cynic and sceptic, a piercer of shams, cap- 
able of compassion, yet selfish in the grain, and hence incapable 
of love. That is the reader's rendering of Lyndall ; we doubt 
that it is Miss Schreiner's. The whole picture of Lyndall after 
she returns from school is unpleasant, and in parts it would be 
revoltingly crude, if certain of the episodes, and specially that 
called " Gregory's Womanhood," did not seem so appallingly 
ignorant as to demand mercy under that plea. In spite of its 
strength and its unique literary quality, and apart, moreover, 
from its atheistic tendency, the book is morbid. We suppose 
that it will still find readers when Robert Elsmere has gone entire- 
ly out of fashion ; but, though it has vitality enough to keep it 
alive, it is not fitted for wide popularity. It is too painful. It 
has no panaceas to offer in place of a belief in God and His 
Christ. Its lesson is that there is nothing in this world that is 



120 TALK ABOUT NEW BOOKS. [Apr., 

not cheap and tainted, there is nothing which one can gain which 
does not turn to ashes on the lip, there is seeming success only 
for mean and cruel natures ; and there is less than nothing here- 
after. Dreary lesson ! Mrs. Ward's is pleasanter to the ear, and 
then there is such an air "of good society " about it, and such a 
noble desire to elevate " the masses ' by showing them very 
large and highly colored maps of the " Holy Land" from which 
the God-Man, the too-exacting Judge, has been skilfully elimin- 
ated by repeated importations of German criticism. But in all 
literary values, in native, genuine force, in photographic ac- 
curacy of observation and reproduction, in humor, ungenial 
though it be, and above all in interest, the work of the more suc- 
cessful novelist is not to be named in the same category with 
The African Farm. 

A Fair Emigrant, by Rosa Mulholland, is reprinted from the 
pages of this magazine in an "authorized edition," by D. Apple- 
ton & Co. (New York). Our readers have too lately followed 
the fortunes of the charming Bawn and her lover, Rory Fingall 
of Tor, to stand in need of any commendation of the many good 
points of this novel. It makes a very handsome volume. 

Mr. Grant Allen has again borrowed sufficient leisure from 
the scientific pursuits to which he is supposed to devote his 
serious labors and the sincerest devotion of his mind, to the pro- 
duction of a sensational novel, This Mortal Coil, also reprinted 
by the Appletons. As literature it has no standing whatever, 
but it is plotty, romantic, full of love, blood, murder, and suicide, 
and will not be likely to fail of interested readers. 

Mr. R. E. Francillon's ' Christmas Rose, A Blossom in Seven 
Petals (New York : Harper & Brothers), is more agreeable work 
than Mr. Allen's, though it may prove tamer to the rank and 
file of novel-readers. It is a rather short story of the latter half 
of the eighteenth century, dealing with the fortunes of the 
Young Chevalier, as these affected the hearts and persons of a 
pair of married true lovers, Rupert Cleve and Hester his wife. 
It does not amount to very much, but it is pleasantly written 
and entirely wholesome. 



1889.] WITH READERS AND CORRESPONDENTS. 121 



WITH READERS AND CORRESPONDENTS. 

STORY OF A CONVERSION. 

THE son of a Protestant minister, born and brought up in the Eastern States, 
" passed my earlier years among good people and under Christian influences. As 
a pupfl in the common schools I was credited with an inquiring mind and with 
oeing reluctant to accept explanations containing reservations or precluding 
inquiry into foundations. I recall that in nearly all my friendships there was a 
tinge of sadness, a fear of loss or disappointment, reminding me of the shortness 
of life, which science has not lengthened, and that the finer instincts reached out 
for something sure and satisfying, thus retarding the bestowal of full devotion 
upon human attachments or the love of success or gain. In my college course I 
was successful and honored; the classics enlarged and refined my mind, and my 
favorite studies were history, especially on its philosophical side, moral philoso- 
phy, literature, and, above all, mathematics, whose certainty seemed to place a 
rock beneath my feet. My reading and speculations upon history led me to 
doubt the accuracy and completeness of much that is written respecting the 
great movements of the past, and I gradually came to think that theories of life, 
duty, and justice, working under changing conditions, often through hidden 
channels of communication, and affecting in different degree the minds of in- 
dividuals, produced at length the external change. I doubted whether the 
majority of historians could reproduce an epoch like that pictured in Bulwer's 
Last of the Barons in all its shadings, with entire absence of prejudice, and thus 
came to believe firmly that what the great man is at heart and in his motives, mis- 
understood at times by the world about him and often incapable of reproduc- 
tion later, is fully known to God alone, and is yet the measure of the individual 
man. This was my first conception of the interior life. In the natural sciences, 
also, I found realms of mystery still existing, despite elaborate theorizing, and 
was not satisfied that life, electricity, volcanoes, etc., were satisfactorily account- 
ed for or explained. 

It was in college that the Christian Church came fully to my knowledge as 
the spring of action in all history that is pleasant reading. France, with her fine 
intelligence, allied to our own country by so many bonds of sympathy, excelling 
so frequently in producing that highest type of man, the Christian gentleman, 
and always, through her upheavals, rejecting Protestantism as less attractive 
than atheism, held my earnest attention. I doubted Henry VIII. and some of 
the later heads of the English Church. Luther I liked for his fearlessness, upon 
the accounts of his work to which I then had access; but I did not comprehend 
how the fixed law of God so undoubted in its essentials and observances 
through centuries that the great Greek Church, departing in the eleventh century, 
took with it, and still retains, the Mass, the veneration of Mary, confession, ex- 
treme unction, etc. could be repudiated because of alleged abuses, and the divine 
fabric and system of Christianity, which, to fulfil the promises, must needs some- 
where contain in every age the Divine Voice, Spirit, and Presence that continue the 
Incarnation, and guide and preserve Christian society, could be overturned by a 
purely human revolution of reform in Germany, unsupported by a single miracle. 
Of the other famous men of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, Cromwell 
I disliked as a man of force and the destroyer of Irishwomen ; but Erasmus 



122 WITH READERS AND CORRESPONDENTS. [Apr., 

interested me, and his prediction that Luther's Reformation would make men 
"masters and not disciples " has since been a key to various wars, international 
or internecine, that appeared unnecessary and unjust. I saw, also, that the 
church, unlike the world, never feared or neglected strength, merit, art, or 
genius ; that, as exemplified in the life of Hildebrand, she not only put down the 
mighty from their seat, but exalted, even above kings, those of low degree ; that 
in her bosom originated the doctrine that men, being brothers in one great 
family, are equal ; and that great heresies and revolts against her gentle rule, 
though strong and prosperous for a time, have yet faded away before her steady 
light and been forgotten. 

A reader of the Bible as a classic and religious guide, I observed, though not 
with clearness, passages in the Protestant version that seemed dead to many 
Protestants: " Peter, the first of the apostles" (Matt. x. 2), to whom Jesus said : 
" The spirit is ready, but the flesh is weak " (Mark xiv. 38); " The Lord himself 
shall give you a sign: Behold, a virgin shall conceive and bear a son " (Isa. vii. 
14); the angel's salutation: "Blessed art thou among women''; and Mary's 
declaration : " From henceforth all generations shall call me blessed " (Luke i. 
28, 48) ; " For as often as ye eat this bread and drink this cup ye do shew the 
Lord's death till he come. . . . But let a man examine himself, and so let him 
eat of that bread and drink of that cup. For he that eateth and drinketh un- 
worthily eateth and drinketh damnation to himself, not discerning the Lord's 
body. For this cause many are weak and sickly among you, and many sleep ' : 
(I Cor. xi. 26-30); " A new commandment 1 give unto you '' (John xiii. 34), where 
Jesus spoke as the God who gave the Ten Commandments ; " Love is the ful- 
filling of the law" (Rom. xiii. 10) ; " Doth not he that pondereth the heart con- 
sider it ? " (Prov. xxiv. 12); " Out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speak- 
eth " (Matt. xii. 34); " He which 'searcheth the reins and hearts " (Rev. ii. 23) ; 
to call " not the righteous, but sinners to repentance " ; " In honor preferring 
one another " (Rom. xii. 13) ; " Unless ye become as little children "; "For many 
will seek to enter in, and shall not be able." " He was in the world, and the 
world was made by him, and the world knew him not ; he came unto his own, 
and his own received him not," etc. I saw that the Sadducees were not alto- 
gether disfavored by him, and that the Pharisees were the only men whom he 
pronounced accursed. 

As a boy I liked good boys and men, and disliked those who were false, 
treacherous, or selfish. I could not be'lieve that those who were always wrong 
at heart, or vacillating between right and wrong, would not some day become 
irrevocably wrong. I was sure that there could be no heaven for me where cer- 
tain boys and men and women would feel at home. I distinctly remember that 
the angel's greeting (Luke ii. 14) : " On earth peace, good will toward men," 
seemed general in its scope, not then knowing the reading : " On earth peace to 
men of good will." These instincts and forebodings of my future faith, though 
dim and inactive, were part of my youthful life, and I have since wondered 
whether I was not Catholic by temperament. I reverenced the Bible, and its 
precepts have influenced my life and the temper of my mind. I was always 
pained at purely mental criticisms of its verses, and " exegesis " chilled me. Of 
its minor characters, I pitied Dives more than Lazarus, and Nicodemus, Joseph 
of Arimathaea, Mary and Martha were my household friends. As a student of 
history I saw that the church, as the custodian and interpreter of revealed 
truth, early declared what should be deemed authentic among the writings, 
thereby making the Bible, and I believe that the sacred book would not to-day 



1889.] WITH READERS AND CORRESPONDENTS. 123 

be in existence, in a form to command respect from human intelligence, had not 
her infallible decree guarded it from cold and irreverent criticism. I saw, too, 
that through the mediaeval darkness, in her monasteries at St. Gall, Tours, 
Fulda, etc., she preserved it, and also " all the treasures of ancient lore." 

Upon completing my college course I spent considerable time abroad, in 
travel and in observation of the peoples and institutions of civilized Europe. 
France, especially in the southern and rural districts, Southern Germany, Italy, 
Catholic Switzerland, and the Tyrol, gave rise to the belief that Catholic disci- 
pline produces the most pleasing type of character, and that convents and monas- 
teries are better than insane asylums for those to whom the world is thorny. 
Returning home and entering upon the active pursuits of life, I took no positive 
position with respect to religion. Going about on Sundays among the churches, 
and making it a point to hear, at least once, all distinguished preachers, for a 
time, so far as the matter received attention, I considered all religions good for 
those who liked them. It was not until deep grief and protracted illness caused 
me to think seriously, and time was afforded for reflection, that I was troubled 
by the thought whether black can be white, and the affirmative and the negative 
be equally pleasing in the sight of God. Always Christian in my undefined be- 
lief, I was much impressed by the calm, sensible sermons I heard from Catholic 
pulpits. I procured Catholic Belief and similar works at a Catholic bookstore, 
and finally asked the Paulist Fathers to accept me. They received me with most 
kindly consideration. The beloved and lamented Father Hecker told me to go 
upon my knees and enter in. 

I am now in middle life. A student of the customs of the world, and a 
reader of the literature of different lands, I have known for several years how 
good it is to be placed within the Catholic Church, which, like a great cathedral 
whose exterior towers dull, grave, and supreme above the city's life, becomes 
ablaze with holy light when seen within. I cannot doubt that through all past 
history, since Jesus went above, he has given to her alone the spirit of truth, and 
that her vitalizing power, breaking through the decay of many European customs 
and exhausted forms, will be the soul and conscience of the world until he comes 
again. I cleave to her sincerity through light and shadow, through fever and 
through calm ; and should the old questions ever arise again, involving a choice 
between the kind and motherly qualities of Christianity on the one side, which 
has given to the world Christian charity, purity, honor, and good manners, 
Christmas and the Christian home, and which, by the establishment of her 
schools at Alexandria and other ancient cities, germinated a soul within the 
Undine of old philosophy, and on the other side the cold external gloss of the 
whited sepulchre, the meanness, cynicism, chicane, and polygamy* which have 
too often been the result of the Jew's belief in a distant, nebulous God, who 
visited earth only in the terrors of fire, the lightning, and the storm, I should 
prefer to die rather than live on in a relapsed and abandoned world. I believe 
that for this and every Christian land the Christian Church is the one thing 
necessary, and that the question of the day should be : What think you of the 
generosity of Christ in facing the ancient world, and of the ideal woman who 
was with him when he was in the manger, when he was waxing strong at Naza- 
reth, and when he suffered on the cross ? 

* The Jewish Church, following the Talmud, appears never to have 'forbidden polygamy, 
which is said to be still tolerated among the Jews of the East as in Old Testament times. 



124 WITH READERS AND CORRESPONDENTS. [Apr., 



GENERAL SHERIDAN'S MEMOIRS.* 

When the dispute between the American Union and the Southern States had 
been transferred from the hustings to the field of battle the sorest need was men 
who knew how to fight, loved to do it, and knew how to train others to fight. 
Among our officers there were more with the first capability than with the latter. 
One lesson of the rebellion is that if the science of war is not to be taught in 
vain its rules must be assimilated by men who love to fight. The warlike nature 
rs the true matrix of a military education. Such a nature was Philip H. Sheri- 
dan's. There were officers who could teach him strategy, though he knew its 
rules, and who could teach him grand tactics ; but the master-passion of his life 
was his longing to whip the enemies of his country, to subjugate them, to reduce 
her rebellious citizens to entire submission to her sovereign authority. This 
quality made his West Point training an art, and the lack of this quality would 
have left it an abstract science. The rules of his profession endowed Sheridan's 
instincts with method, multiplied his resources, taught prudence and patience. 
But war means harm-doing to the enemy, and fierce hatred of enemies and the 
bold temper to destroy them are qualities not acquired by teaching ; they are 
innate qualities and belong to the man. War is resorted to as a science in the 
same way as surgery is when the patient's ulcer cannot be healed by absorbents 
or plasters : the first requisite for the use of the knife and of fire is that the sur- 
geon shall have the nerve to do his work boldly and thoroughly. The capable 
soldier and the skilful surgeon must have a zest for their painful work. 

Graduated from West Point and made brevet second-lieutenant of infantry, 
Sheridan was stationed on the Rio Grande early in the fifties, and at once dis- 
played an appetite for the hostile Indians prowling and thieving and murdering 
along that frontier. Transferred after a time to the Columbia River, Oregon, 
and placed in command of a small detachment of dragoons, he had the same 
hunger for the punishment of marauding savages, and had some opportunities to 
gratify it and to display that ingenuity in circumventing an enemy which he 
afterwards used to his own glory and the success of the national arms in the 
great War of the Rebellion. One may fancy how the faint and broken echoes of 
the first conflicts of the war vibrated in his soul as he waited for orders through- 
out the summer of 1861 in the sleepy frontier post on the Pacific coast. At last 
the long-looked for orders came. He was ordered to the seat of war, and on 
reaching St. Louis in the autumn was made quartermaster of the army under 
General Curtis, then in Southwestern Missouri, preparing for the campaign which 
culminated in the victory of Pea Ridge. Before leaving Oregon he had been 
made captain, but indulged only a modest ambition as to promotion. " I was 
ready to do my duty," he says, " to the best of my ability wherever I might be 
called, and I was young, healthy, insensible to fatigue, and desired opportunity ; 
but high rank was so distant in our service that not a dream of its attainment 
had flitted through my brain " (vol. i. p. 123). His services as quartermaster are 
passed over lightly in the Memoirs, but they were of essential bearing on the 
campaign, as they enabled General Curtis to subsist his army during the winter 
months in a sparsely settled and hostile country. By the intrigues of corrupt 
subordinates in his department Sheridan was forced to resign his post, and we 

* Personal Memoirs of P. H. Sheridan, General United States Army. In two vols. Price 
$6. New York : Charles L. Webster & Co., 3 East Fourteenth Street. 



1889.] WITH READERS AND CORRESPONDENTS. 125 

next find him with Halleck's great army in front of Corinth in the spring of 1862, 
acting as a sort of supernumerary quartermaster in charge of the headquarters 
camp, but " spoiling for a fight." It was the State of Michigan which placed 
this ardent combatant in a position to see active service. 

The Second Michigan Cavalry needing a colonel, Governor Austin Blair, the 
" war governor " of the State, appointed him to the office, using Captain Russell 
A. Alger, of the regiment, as nis intermediary, since well known as governor and 
candidate for the presidential nomination ; the same Alger commanded the turn- 
ing column which materially helped to make Sheridan's first battle a victory at 
Booneville, Miss., and furthermore, when he was transferred to Virginia and 
faced the chivalry of the South under J. E. B. Stuart, it was Custer's Michigan 
brigade which won the highest honors. Even his horse Rienzi, which he mentions 
with such affection and which he says he rode in all his battles, which bore him 
along the road from Winchester to Cedar Creek on his famous ride, was bred in 
the State of Michigan and presented to him by Captain Archibald Campbell, of 
the Second Michigan Cavalry. 

While in command of a division of infantry in the Army of the Cumberland, 
serving under Buell, Rosecrans, and Thomas, Sheridan so conducted himself and 
so managed his troops as to win distinction. Such campaigns as those which 
resulted in the battles of Perryville, Stones River, Chickamauga, and Missionary 
Ridge were calculated to bring out the good qualities of men and officers of all 
grades. It was probably the achievements of the division under Sheridan's com- 
mand which led to his being ordered to the East by General Grant in the winter of 
1863-4 and placed in command of the cavalry corps of the Army of the Potomac. 
In Grant's dreadful march from the Rapidan to Petersburg during the following 
spring and summer Sheridan was almost incessantly engaged in cavalry combats 
on the army's flanks and expeditions against the enemy's lines of supply, secur- 
ing from the outset such advantages over the enemy's cavalry as gradually to give 
the national arms the decisive superiority where mounted troops could be made 
use of. Pretty nearly the whole credit of this is due to Sheridan, the skill of his 
officers, and the valor of his men. Neither Grant nor Meade can claim more than 
a negative share ; they simply didn't hinder him. Indeed, it took Meade some 
time to find out what sort of a man he had to deal with in his new cavalry 
general. The following extract from Sheridan's account of the operations after 
the battles of the Wilderness is instructive : 

"A little before noon General Meade sent for me, and when I reached his headquarters I 
found that his peppery temper had got the better of his good judgment, he showing a disposi- 
tion to be unjust, laying blame here and there for the blunders that had been committed. He 
was particularly severe on the cavalry, saying, among other things, that it had impeded the 
march of the Fifth Corps by occupying the Spottsylvania road. I replied that if this were true 
he had ordered it there without my knowledge. I also told him that he had broken up my 
combinations, exposed Wilson's division to disaster, and kept Gregg unnecessarily idle, and, 
further, repelled his insinuations by saying that such disjointed operations as he had been re- 
quiring of the cavalry for the last four days would render the corps inefficient and useless 
before long. Meade was very much irritated and I was none the less so. One word brought 
on another until, finally, I told him I could whip Stuart if he (Meade) would only let me, but 
since he insisted on giving the cavalry directions without consulting or even notifying me, he 
could henceforth command the cavalry corps himself that I would not give it another order. 
The acrimonious interview ended with this remark, and after I left him he went to General 
Grant's headquarters and repeated the conversation to him, mentioning that I had said that I 
could whip Stuart. At this General Grant remarked : * Did he say so ? Then let him go out 
and do it.'" 



126 WITH READERS AND CORRESPONDENTS. [Apr., 

Meade, in fact, had seemed inclined to use Sheridan's sabers to guard his 
flanks and rear and act a? the antennae of the army as it advanced ; but the 
uses of cavalry in modern warfare were better understood by Grant, and especially 
so by Sheridan. After detaching a small portion of his force for the purposes 
above mentioned, Sheridan moved his corps out and away from the army and 
used them on the enemy's communications as an independent command. That 
he was able to do it effectively was quickly proved. On May 1 1 he encountered 
the Southern troopers far in Lee's rear and fought his first great cavalry battle at 
Yellow Tavern. He beat the Confederates in a fair fight, killed their leader, the 
far-famed J. E. B. Stuart, and that night and the next day rode in front of the 
city of Richmond, pounding at all its gates. 

From that moment till the end he was Grant's left arm, being continually 
reached around to snatch the coveted prize, while with his right arm he grappled 
with Lee; at the very last it was this deadly sinister which was flung about the 
bleeding form of the immortal Army of Northern Virginia, while the Army of the 
Potomac seized and bound it at Appomattox. 

But the lovely valley of the Shenandoah was the scene of Sheridan's greatest 
glory. The national forces had met with little but defeat there till the autumn of 
1864, when Sheridan assumed command. He made his preparations and studied 
the country in which he was to operate with that patience which is one of the 
attributes of conscious power, and then assailed the Confederate army with a 
vigor which would seem desperate were it not so well calculated. He won a series 
of victories so brilliant, so complete, so fruitful that he successfully contests with 
Stonewall Jackson the title of the Hero of the Valley. When the artist Kelly 
made his much-admired statue of Sheridan he could but choose to represent him 
on his famous ride from Winchester to Cedar Creek. It was fitting that the na- 
tion which was saved from ruin by the war should have a hero of the valley as 
well as the Southern Confederacy that monstrous attempt to erect amid the 
great powers of Christian civilization a government whose corner-stone should be 
human slavery. It was fitting that there should be a Phil Sheridan as well as a 
Stonewall Jackson. 

To say that the writer of these memoirs was a fighter is to summarize his 
character as a soldier, and to say that he was an educated fighter is to summarize 
his character as a general. He liked to fight and hailed a good cause that he 
might fight and be honest. He was certainly not of an irritable disposition, 
snarling with his associates and friends, nor was he treacherous and revengeful 
to his enemies. But his nature was such that his love of right took the form of a 
desire to establish it by force, and his hatred of wrong to chastise its defenders, 
and if necessary to put them to death the very stuff that soldiers should be made 
of. Upon this temperament it was that the training of West Point acted, and this 
temperament it was that was most needed before the military education could do 
its best work. What the man is, that is the soldier. West Point has gained by 
the war the easy pre-eminence among all military schools in the world, but it 
neither makes nor unmakes the man. Yet it does much for the man. It makes 
him gentlemanly and graceful in his bearing, obedient as well to civil as to mili- 
tary superiors, develops his mind and strengthens his body, and imparts a good 
general education and a competent knowledge of the science and art of war. 
West Point made it possible that this young infantry subaltern could become a 
most efficient quartermaster for an army in the field, a famous leader of cavalry, 
a successful commander of large bodies of men of all arms in critical and hazard- 



1889.] WITH READERS AND CORRESPONDENTS. 127 

ous military operations. It also taught him those methods of discipline which 
are kindly and by means of which he could win the affection of the multitudes of 
citizens who served under him as soldiers, and were soldiers but for that one war, 
and ever remained more citizens than soldiers. He knew how to win their affec- 
tion and get much fight out of them. But that Sheridan was what is shown 
by these memoirs, and by that face of his, hard in lines though kindly in expres- 
sion, as reproduced in the excellent portraits in these fine volumes a fighter by 
nature is the essential reason why this work must be in the hands of every man 
interested in the great war. 

The whole book is the plain soldier's unvarnished tale. The interest, of 
course, cannot be otherwise than intense from beginning to end, for the whole 
career is adventurous and historical and is well described by the hero himself. 
In the summer of 1861 he was a second-lieutenant, in the autumn of 1862 he 
was a general of division, and a little more than two years later he was one of 
the most distinguished warriors of the age a little man five feet five inches high, 
weighing one hundred and fifteen pounds ! The style is direct, clear as crystal, 
unaffected, devoid of brag, not claiming everything but yet his due, frank. In his 
criticisms of other military leaders he is sometimes severe, never abusive nor, 
seemingly, actuated by selfish motives; in speaking of Buell, Rosecrans, and Hal- 
leek he appears to be especially fair and kindly. His description of military 
operations and battles is intelligible, and the publishers have by means of 
numerous maps helped the reader's comprehension of. the matters treated of. 
Only once or twice does-the narrative fall under a political side-light, and in those 
instances Sheridan is entitled to leave to posterity in his own words his state- 
ment of controversies involving his own fame questions which will never cease 
to be subjects of discussion. The work is supplied with a full index,, which will 
materially increase its usefulness. 



THE PALESTRINA MYTH. 

In the course of the article under the above title in the last number of this 
magazine an erroneous statement was made, en passant, concerning the dismissal 
of Palestrinafrom the Vatican Chapel and his appointment at the Liberian Basilica. 
The facts are these : Being, contrary to the regulations of the choir, a married 
man, Pope Paul IV. dismissed him. He soon obtained the position of maestro at 
the Lateran, and after a short time was transferred to the Liberian Basilica, where 
he remained ten years. Pope Pius V. reinstated him as maestro of the Cappella 
Giulia in the Vatican in 1571. It will be seen, however, that this error, now cor- 
rected, does not in any way affect the general argument of the article. 

The article has been criticised as "giving no news" in the exposition of the facts 
concerning Palestrina and the Council of Trent, they having been already correctly 
stated by some recent writers. Yet I presume to insist that it has been a popular, 
historical, and literary myth dating back to a very early date after the death of 
Palestrina ; and, so far as I know, none of the writers on this subject upon whose 
works our English-speaking students and general readers rely for information 
have called attention to the existence of the myth, its historical fallacy in the face 
of the real facts and dates as given by them, or that any one has hitherto signal- 
ized the c luse to which, in great measure, is due its industrious propagation. 



128 



WITH READERS AND CORRESPONDENTS. 



[Apr., 



Of these recent writers, two have been quoted as having been beforehand with 
the "news " A History of Music, by Emil Naumann, and an article in Grove's 
Dictionary of Music and Musicians. These writers do indeed give accurate facts 
and dates. But unless the student should certify the corresponding dates of the 
sessions of the Council of Trent the language of both these authors would unmis- 
takably go to confirm the myth in the mind of the reader. Naumann, who, by the 
way, appears to have received a brief to incriminate the Catholic Church in the 
persons of her clergy, who are described by him as full of "jealous envy," "malevo- 
lent spite," " haters of laymen," " violent and persistent in opposition," etc., and 
to exalt Luther " and all his works " if not his " pomps and vanities," says in his 
work (History of Music, vol. i.p. 505) : "Perhaps the most important event of 
his (Palestrina's) life was the honorable commission he received from the Council 
of Trent to write a mass which should serve as a model for future Catholic Church 
music." Is not this writing under the influence of the myth and transmitting it 
as history ? Neither does he anywhere correct the false impression thus given, 
but strengthens it by going on to speak of " the demands of the Tridentine Coun- 
cil " in the matter of church music, which demands, by the way, were not at 
all as he states them. So much for Naumann's " news in advance." 

The article in Grove's Dictionary thus discourses : " Other irregularities and 
corruptions hardly less flagrant were common among the singers, and the general 
condition of affairs was such that a resolution as to the necessity of reform in 
church music, which very nearly took the shape of a decree for its abandonment 
altogether, was solemnly passed in a full sitting of the Council of Trent. In 1 563 
Pius IV. issued a commission to eight cardinals," etc. The writer does not 
scate that the council had already adjourned in 1562, and if this fact were unknown 
to the student of history he would be still left under the fallacious impression 
concerning Palestrina's relation to the council already given by former writers. 

The Encyclopedia Britannica (article ; ' Palestrina ") repeats the above in sub- 
stince, giving the true date, 1564, when Pius IV. appointed the commission, and 
in another place does indeed say that the story of Pope Marcellus and Pak-strina 
is false, yet reaffirms the unwanantable conclusion to be drawn from the threat- 
ened exclusion of concerted music by the council, in saying that it would have 
been "a proceeding which, so far as the church was concerned, would 
have rendered the ' Art of Music,' properly so-called, a dead-letter, not only 
for the time being, but in perpetuity." This is one of the mythical strands 
in the "church music' cable which I claim to have cut in my article. 
The American Cyclopadia (article " Palestrina ") thus states the case : " The 
subject of the improvement of ecclesiastical music having been referred 
by the Council of Trent to a committee of cardinals and chaplain singers, 
a discussion arose, and Palestrina, being called upon to compose a work 
written in a more severe, simple, and devotional style, . . . produced his celebrat- 
ed Mass of Pope Marcellus.' " Here again is the myth ! 

Mr. G. A. Macfarren, in the Encyclopedia Britannica (article " Music "), says 
in few words : ' ' The whole custom of composition and performance was rigorously 
condemned by the Council of Trent, in consequence of which Palestrina was 
commissioned in 1563 to write music for the Mass that should be truthful to the 
spirit of devout declamation, etc." This writer, who ought to be better in- 
Iso imagined with Dr. Burney that popes and conclaves engaged them- 
selves with the discussion and proclamation of conciliar decrees of reformation of 
church music. He says : " In the three hundred years between that time and 



1889.] WITH READERS AND CORRESPONDENTS. 129 

this pontiffs and conclaves have again and again enacted statutes to conserve 
the purity of ecclesiastical art." 

So much for these recent writers and their having so presented the facts in 
the case as to clear up, even for students of history or for the general 
reader, a positively erroneous impression, which unquestionably has widely 
prevailed as a consequence of the false assertions made by many musical 
writers and repeated ad nauseam by orators and essayists, who had their 
argument for " church music " to bolster up with rhetorical allusions to Palestrina 
and the Council of Trent. I subjoin the names of a few of the more 
important of tnese . 

Angelo Berardi (Dialogues upon Music, 1681) ; Antonio Liberati (A Letter, 
1685) ; Pietro Polliodori (De Vita Marcelli If., p. 124) ; Andrea Adami (On the 
Regulation of the Choir of Chanters in the Pontifical Chapel, 1711) ; Antonio 
Eximeno (Origin and Rules of Music, 1774) ; Martin Gerbert (De Cantu et 
Musica Sacra, torn iv., 1774) ; Dr. Burney (General History of Music, 1789) ; 
Chevalier Artaud de Montor (Lives and Times of the Roman Pontiffs, vol. i. p. 
743> 1867). 

All these authors, copying, probably, one from the other, agree in ascribing 
the reform of music to Pope Marcellus, and the composition of Palestrina's Masses 
to his instance, some even relating the performance of the great Mass " Papae 
Marcelli " on the Easter Sunday following the coronation of that pope, a perform- 
ance which never took place. 

We find other writers telling the story to the effect that the council was so 
pleased with and influenced by hearing Palestrina's Mass that they modified the 
seventy of their intended decree. Among these are Lelio Guidiccioni, in a letter 
of the i6th of January, 1637, to the Bishop of Vaison, and Pietro della Vaile 
( The fylusic of our Epoch, 1640). 

Again and again these errors have been repeated, especially by modern orators 
and essayists. In the October number, 1888, of THE CATHOLIC WORLD (article 
"Church Music, its Origin and Different Forms") the writer says : " It is said 
that the Council of Trent intended to pass some severe canons against the music 
then in vogue, but just at that time Palestrina composed his church music, which, 
though entirely unlike Gregorian (?), was received with such favor as to pre- 
vent a strict legislation on the part of the council." Here we have a pretty good 
specimen of the " myth " upon a page whose ink is hardly dry. 

ALFRED YOUNG. 



MORALITY AND SECTARIANISM. 

The Christian Register Q{ January 31, 1889, contains a number of replies from 
eminent thinkers to this question : Can morality be taught without sectarianism ? 
None of the writers have attempted to construct a definite basis for the unsec- 
tarian code of morality, and it is evident that such a code has not yet been clear- 
ly formulated. We know what is meant by the moral teaching of the various 
religious denominations, which accept entirely or in part the Christian doctrines as 
revealed in the New Testament. Unsectarian morality, however, has no prophet, 
no law giver. Where are its credentials ? On whose authority does it claim re- 
cognition ? 



130 WITH READERS AND CORRESPONDENTS. [Apr., 

In the November, 1888, Contemporary Review Canon Gregory, representing 
the Church of England, makes this comment (page 645) : 

" The Education Act of 1870 practically establishes a new religion, ' Undenominationalism,' 
for the elementary schools of the country, which has the singular merit of being a religion 
which nobody who cares for religion (whatever his faith or denomination may be) would teach 
his own children, but which for political reasons seems to be regarded as sufficiently good for 
the poorer classes." 

Again, on page 657 he says : 

' The majority demand religious liberty for believers as well as for unbelievers, for those 
who have a definite faith as much as for those who have none. At present in England the 
whole school-board rate is given to schools where no religious teaching is given, or where the 
religion taught is so nebulous that it does not admit of being expressed in a creed, or so in- 
definite that it cannot be formulated into the accurate terms of a catechism. This is enforced 
by act of Parliament, and is not left to the free determination of the various bodies by whom 
school-rates are levied, and is, in my opinion, a gross violation .of the principle of religious 
liberty." 

Canon Gregory then quotes from the majority report of the Education Com- 
mission to show that all the evidence gathered by their prolonged investigation 
" is practically unanimous as to the desire of the parents for the religious and 
moral training of their children.'' Our American school boards make little or no 
provision for the wishes of parents. Let us hope that the parental voice will soon 
make itself heard in discussions of the educational question. 

The members of the Royal Education Commission represented many de- 
nominations, and in their majority report agreed upon the following declaration, 
quoted by Canon Gregory : 

" Whilst differing widely in our views concerning religious truth, we are persuaded that the 
only safe foundation on which to construct a theory of morals, or to secure high moral conduct, 
is the religion wh:ch our Lord Jesus Christ has taught the world. As we look to the Bible for 
instruction concerning morals, and take its words for the declaration of what is morality, so 
we look to the same inspired source for the sanctions by which men may be led to practise what 
is there taught, and for instruction concerning the help by which they may be enabled to do 
what they have learned to be right." 

What has unsectarianism to offer as a substitute for this plain statement, 
which ought to be acceptable to all Christians? The genuine unsectarian code 
must be detached from every positive religious belief. Perhaps it is to be formed 
for it does not yet exist of the moral axioms, ancient and modern. According 
to one of the writers in the Christian Register, "Axiomatic morality is moral 
moonshine." THOMAS McMlLLAN. 



READING CIRCLES. 

The movement started in the pages of THE CATHOLIC WORLD in favor of 
Reading Circles has been extensively noticed by the Catholic press. Grateful 
acknowledgment is due to the editors of these papers for the space kindly given 
to this subject. It is certainly to be desired that the interest shown thus far 
may be continued. Editorial approval deservedly has great weight in producing 
conviction, because it is based on information not accessible to the general public. 

With much pleasure we have read several choice paragraphs favorable to 
Reading Circles, penned by a sagacious writer in the Le Couteulx Leader, from 
which the following quotation is taken : 

" The subject of Reading Circles is continued in THE CATHOLIC WORLD. We hope 
something will come of the plan, and that its benefits will not accrue to studious young women 



1889.] WITH READERS AND CORRESPONDENTS. 131 

only, if, as may be inferred from the letter of one correspondent, young men are likely to wish 
to share them. It seems to us that if THE CATHOLIC WORLD were subscribed for and read in 
all the Catholic families able to afford it a great step would be taken towards interesting 'our 
people ' in their own literature and great men and women. 

' In the pages of such a magazine the average busy man, or busy woman, has about all 
the reading he can find time for, beside the indispensable daily paper. He is kept informed 
of the best thoughts of the best thinkers upon religious and educational movements in the past 
as well as those engaging contemporary interest; history, biography, science, art, and matters 
purely literary are represented. People who have more leisure and a ticket for some public 
library would learn from it what books to ask for, and those able to form a library of their 
own would have a sure guide in making their collection. Unhappily, in hundreds of Catholic 
houses where the Scribner or Harpers Magazine or the Centurya.ro. regular visitors THE 
CATHOLIC WORLD is scarcely known. If the proposed Reading Circles do no more than enrich 
some of our public libraries with such works by Catholic authors as all Catholics who can 
afford to buy them should have in their own libraries, they will have justified their existence. 
Local efforts towards the accomplishment of what the ' Circles ' are expected to effect have 
been many, but it appears that this latest and wider-reaching scheme is likely to enlist active 
workers whose zeal in other and smaller plans is apt to prove spasmodic. Public libraries, as 
a rule, put on their shelves the books for which there is likely to be most demand. It seems to 
be a rule, also, in all of them that, when a book not on the list is asked for by a number of sub- 
scribers, to procure it at once. As all such libraries have many Catholic patrons, it follows that 
these make few requisitions for books by authors of their own faith. And for the most part 
they do not ask for them because they know little or nothing of them or their writers." 

44 BARRYTOWN, N. Y. 

' In reference to the project of Reading Circles, I entirely approve of any movement for 
the dissemination and cultivation of Catholic literature. Among intelligent and educated 
Catholics I have observed that the reading found on their library tables and exposed to the 
children of the family is too much of the mere worldly order, and in two cases of the kind I 
have sent the Young Catholic for examination, that it might be adopted for the reading 
of children who need light as to the men and things particularly and greatly Catholic. 

' The plan proposed appears to be confined to the Catholic women, but as the influence of 
woman for good or evil is world-wide, the plan could be extended to men, in my judgment, 
without affecting the general object, and practically thus render the movement more beneficial. 
In the case of families, the husband and father should be interested in any scheme of literary 
advancement in which the wife and mother may be involved. From this point of view the 
children would benefit from familiarity with Catholic books, magazines, and papers in union 
with the elders, and every household could be formed into a ' Reading Circle ' in the best 
sense. To restrict it to single young women a partial success may be attained, and it might 
do to commence in that way, and enlarge the scope as the movement progresses. 

44 WM. J. MCCLURE." 

41 The proposed Reading Circle, I feel sure, will meet a great want. I have much desired 
something of the kind and hope for much good from it. Our young people are warned often 
enough against evil ways in reading ; the right way is not pointed out to them. I am glad 
that an effort to do this is now to be made. 

"It will give me pleasure to direct those under my. guidance to follow * Reading Circle.' 
Please find stamps for list of books in preparation. M. J. D." 

" KEITHSBURG, ILL. 

4 1 read with pleasure your appeal to the Catholic public to form a Reading Circle. Wish- 
ing to become a member, I enclose ten cents in postage to assist in defraying the expense of 
printing the first list of books. S. A. B." 

44 SUMMIT, UNION Co., N. J. 

"I have read with interest the articles in CATHOLIC WORLDS on the proposed Reading Cir- 
cles, and I enclose ten cents in postage-stamps toward the fund for expenses, and I will gladly 
give my services, if needed, to aid any Catholics who have had less facilities than myself of en- 
joying Catholic books. O. D. H. ;> 
VOT,. XLIX. 9 



132 WITH READERS AND CORRESPONDENTS. [Apr., 

" BUFFALO, February, 1889. 

" The actual need of a society for revealing the wealth of Catholic literature has now be- 
come a recognized fact. The plan should be broad enough to embrace all classes of society. 
The admirers of ' The Duchess' and ' Ouida' compose a large percentage of our Catholic 
working-girls, who are dazzled by these objectionable writers. Let the Circle not forget them 
in its outline, but if possible include directors for desultory as well as more serious reading. 
The only suggestion I can make is that it should be thoroughly Catholic in its broad, philan- 
thropic principles. J. L." 

" BUFFALO, N. Y. 

"As there never was a girl without an opinion, and as the greatest satisfaction she can have 
is the chance of giving her opinion, I suppose you, as the promoter of the excellent Reading 
Circles scheme, have had tons of feminine advice (I wonder whether you labelled it good or 
otherwise ?) showered upon you long before this. Please do not imagine, therefore, that I 
intend to deluge you with a formidable quantity of this same commodity. I shall only ven- 
ture to suggest, on the chance that nobody has preceded me with the same suggestion, that our 
Catholic Reading Circles might be organized, at least as far as mere reading goes, for people 
with little time and not much inclination, somewhat on the basis of the ' Half-Hour Reading 
Clubs,' which are favorably known in several American cities and seem to accomplish a great 
deal. Their rules, as far as I have learned, are very simple. Each member of the club agrees 
to read some interesting book, from the list arranged by the superintendent or director of the 
club, one -half hour daily. Failure to do this enjoins a fine, and at the end of the year prizes 
are given to members who have not missed one single day's reading. Each member, of course, 
sends to the director the name of each book she reads when finished, with a brief summary of 
its contents. 

"It seems to me this idea might work very well for our Catholic Literary Society that is to 
be in the near future, I hope. I, as well as a great many others, am anxiously awaiting its 
active existence. If my feeble services can in any way further that end, pray consider them at 
your command. MARIE LOUISE SANDROCK." 

To J. G. S., of Buffalo, N. Y., we would suggest further consideration of the 
motives urging us to give precedence to Catholic writers. Are you aware that 
Protestant literature receives full and overflowing praise from other sources? 
Wealth has given to its books and magazines the most artistic covers, with pretty 
designs and colors to attract the eye of the observer. By various advertising 
mediums the names of its authors and their works are made known. Catholic 
literature, on the other hand, is neglected. Our writers and publishers need a 
more substantial co-operation from the Catholic reading public. Dante, Shak- 
spere, and others are general favorites among all denominations. 

In regard to our own authors we ought to have a feeling like that which 
prompts a man to take a reasonable pride in his own personal appearance. His 
coat may not be the best in the world, but he has for it a most decided preference, 
because it is his own. 

We hope that many of the Catholic authors will make use without delay of 
the opportunity now offered to send a friendly com'munication to their readers for 
publication in THE CATHOLIC WORLD. 

DEPARTMENT READING CIRCLES. 



CONGREGATIONAL SINGING. 



Who says the people can't sing? Some one who has not been at the Church 
of St. Paul the Apostle, in New York City. Who says they will not sing ? 
Some one who has not heard them do it at that church. 

Who says they don't like to sing ? 



1 889.] NE w PUB LIC A TIONS. 1 3 3 

Some one who does not know how they put their hearts and souls into it after 
a little encouragement. 

Who says that " our people do not want popular services with congregational 
singing"? Some one who has not seen the crowds at that church on Sunday 
evenings. 

Why do the people go to these services ? Because they are popular. 

Why do they like them ? Because they take part in them and join in the 
prayers. 

Why are these devotions so well attended ? Because the music is so good. 

What brings so many men to them ? Because they are bright, short, and 
enjoyable. 

What makes them so enjoyable ? Having a thousand or more people singing 
together the praises of God. 

What makes them interesting? Taking an active part in them by each one 
who is present. 

What is the object of these devotions ? The saving of souls. 

Is it not an imitation of Protestant meetings ? No ; you find similar things in 
the old Catholic countries ; St. Philip Neri established the same thing in the city 
of Rome as part of the rule of his order. A. B. C. 



NEW PUBLICATIONS. 

SHORT INSTRUCTIONS FOR Low MASSES; or, the Sacraments Explained. 
By Rev. James Donohoe, of St. Thomas Aquinas' Church, Brooklyn, 
N. Y. New York and Cincinnati : Fr. Pustet & Co. 

Here are fifty-four short instructions or five-minute sermons adapted to 
the use of churches which have Low Masses on Sundays frequented by the 
people. They range over that wide field of pastoral theology embraced 
under the head of The Sacraments. They are written and have been 
preached by the pastor of a busy church in the city of Brooklyn, and have 
thus been subjected to the test of experience. They are excellent little 
sermons, plain in their statement of doctrine, amply provided with familiar 
illustrations, and while, strictly speaking, instructions, they are strongly 
hortatory in tone. The author's style is clear, his manner direct and fami- 
liar (except in addressing his hearers as " dear people "), and the conclu- 
sions drawn are practical. 

It would be a mistake to think that the author confines these instruc- 
tions strictly within the scope indicated by the title of his little volume ; he 
treats whatever subjects are kindred to the sacraments. Under the head 
of matrimony, for example, we find five-minute sermons on such practical 
matters as company-keeping, promise of marriage, conjugal love, duties of 
parents, faulty education, and bad literature these in addition to such 
subjects as the banns, nuptial Mass, and the ceremonies of marriage, im- 
pediments and mixed marriages. 

We commend these instructions to our brethren in the priesthood, and 
also to Catholic school teachers as well as to parents. 



134 NEW PUBLICATIONS. [Apr., 

THE OFFICE OF TENEBR^E, transposed from the Gregorian Chant into mo- 
dern notation. By Rev. James A. McCallen, S.S., St. Patrick's Church, 
Montreal. Montreal : printed for the author. John Lovell & Sons. 
Of this work as a translation of the chant into modern notation we can 
only say that those who know the chant would much prefer the old no- 
tation, and to those who do not know it such translations are unintel- 
ligible. It is impossible for a musician acquainted only with modern no- 
tation to avoid giving relative value to musical notes. The ordinary musi- 
cian will also be sure to sing a piece noted chiefly in minims very slowly, 
and this would tend to emphasize and exaggerate the tedious, drawling 
style which has rendered the singing of chants so unpopular. To have 
the words of the Tenebrce given complete, repeated where necessary without 
reference, is a desideratum which the reverend author has sought and filled. 
We are also glad to see that it is printed in large, readable type. 

During the seasons appointed for fasting, mourning, and contrite 
prayer, and especially so during the last week of Lent, called the Holy 
Week, the church puts off all possible outward display of ornament, re- 
stricting the use of that variety and brilliancy of color, as well as of pearl 
and precious gem-adorned vestments for altar and priest, which, at other 
times of a more festive character, she judges to be more suitable as a mani- 
festation of joy and as befitting her ceremonial garments of praise and 
thanksgiving. 

If she orders this retrenchment of what appeals to the sense of sight 
as a mark of festivity at such times, she does the like for our chastening of 
thought in the variety and expression of what affects the soul through the 
sense of hearing. The singular and effective simplicity of her liturgical 
chant during Holy Week, and especially at the offices called the Tene- 
br&, are well known, and to those who are acquainted with the nature 
and can appreciate the tonal effect of the church's own sacred song its 
wonderful adaptability to its purposes is as unquestionable as it is marvel- 
lous. Experience has shown that these services have a great attrac- 
tion for all classes of persons, but especially for the poor and unlearn- 
ed, who, apart from other considerations, possess but a limited capacity to 
comprehend or even to be touched by music of an ornate or intricate 
form. That Gregorian chant is "good enough and suitable for dead 
Masses and Lent " is the common saying of those who through ignorance 
or prejudice would like to be rid of it altogether. Yet these are the very 
persons who, contrary not only to their own expressed judgment, but to 
the requirements of the ritual and the spirit of the church, make use of 
just such occasions to display their talent in the production of music 
wholly foreign to all the principles we have noted, and turn the churches 
into rival concert halls where they "bring out," before audiences which 
they ought to know are in these matters generally unintelligent and 
morally unappreciative, the most elaborate Misereres, Benedictus canticles, 
Responsories, and sweetly harmonized Lamentations. 

Whatever may be said of the rest of the volume before us, we enter our 
mild but earnest protest against that part of it containing such harmonies. 
They do violence not only to our sense of what is proper, but we think 
they are offensive to good taste. We loath all these fancy musical con- 
certs in church, and more than all their introduction during these solemn 
and pathetic commemorative services of the Lord's Passion and death. 




1 889. ] NE w PUBLIC A TIONS. 1 3 5 

We regret that we cannot give a more cordial commendation to this 
work of so zealous an author, since we would go a long way about to find 
reasons for praising and encouraging any effort that we think might in the 
least aid in the study and practice of the holy chant and further its use 
in the divine offices of the church. 

THE LIFE OF RAPHAEL. By Herman Grimm. Boston : Cupples & Hurd. 

This is a translation by Miss S. H. Adams of Grimm's great work, and 
it has the merit rare among works of the kind of being translated into 
English, not into English words with German idiom and construction. If 
the original is better than the translation in strength, in clearness, and in 
purity and ease of diction, it must rank very high. 

If one has never had the happiness of spending long hours before the 
masterpieces of Raphael, we venture the opinion that the pen-pictures 
contained in this volume will go a long way in making up for the pleasure he 
has missed. We recall distinctly the tints, the shadows, the lights of these 
pictures as we read the pages that so graphically portray them. The book 
ought to have a large sale among all lovers of the great and true in art. 

THE SACRED PASSION OF JESUS CHRIST: Short Meditations for every 
day in Lent. By Richard F. Clarke, S.J. New York, Cincinnati, and 
Chicago: Benziger Brothers. 

THE WORDS OF JESUS CHRIST DURING HIS PASSION. EXPLAINED IN 
THEIR LITERAL AND MORAL SENSE. Translated from the French of 
Rev. F. X. Schouppe, S.J. By Rev. J. J. Quin. Same publishers. 

These pretty little volumes are practical aids to meditation for every 
day of the penitential season of Lent. Father Clarke's Sacred Passion 
is especially good, full of unction, following a concise method of arranging 
the matter, which has been borrowed from St. Bonaventure. We com- 
mend the author's suggestion of appropriate passages of Holy Scripture to 
be read with each meditation. 

Father Schouppe's Words of Jesus Christ is an explanation in the literal 
and moral sense of our Lord's words during his whole Passion. It is cal- 
culated to give great assistance in preparing sermons and instructions 
during Lent, especially in Passion-tide. 

MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE OF MRS. SARAH PETER. By Margaret R. King. 
2 vols. Cincinnati : Robert Clark & Co. 

These memoirs have been prepared by the late Mrs. Peter's daughter- 
in-law, a Protestant lady, and therefore scarcely able to treat the religious 
side of her character in a sympathetic spirit. Nevertheless, so many of 
Mrs. Peter's letters are incorporated in the work that the reader obtains a 
good view of that most conspicuous feature of her career. She was a 
widow and fifty years of age when she entered the church, moved thereto 
by many years of study and much travel and knowledge of human nature-. 
The step was in no small degree facilitated by acquaintance with Arch- 
bishop Hughes, whdm she met in Rome, in which city she made her ab- 
juration. 

Mrs. Peter was a type of the strong Western woman, having been born 
the beginning of the century in the State of Ohio and brought up in the 
midst of its pioneer state of society. Her parents were wealthy and gave 



1 36 NE w PUBLICA TIONS. [Apr. , 

her what education was possible under the circumstances. But that she 
was an excellent musician, that she was acquainted with French, German, 
and Italian literature, and spoke those languages with fluency, was due 
principally rather to her ambition and industry than to her early oppor- 
tunities. She was extremely fond of art, for which she had a correct 
and cultivated taste. Her letters from all parts of Europe, written during 
her many voyages thither, show her just appreciation and her sound judg- 
ment. 

But all that Mrs. Peter was by nature or refinement would never 
have made her worthy of mention to posterity. It was the Catholic re- 
ligion which developed in her those qualities of philanthropy and charity 
which have give her a real fame. Seeing human suffering and obtaining 
in her new religious life the deeper depths of sympathy, she found 
in Catholic organizations an adequate remedy. From the time of her con- 
version she devoted her life and fortune to the introduction and founda- 
tion of houses of charitable communities from Europe, especially in the 
city and diocese of Cincinnati. There, now developed and multiplied, they 
stand, monuments of her enlightened and wide-reaching charity, the best 
memoir of a truly great woman. 

THE LIFE OF BLESSED MARTIN DE PORRES (a Negro Saint), of the Third 
Order of St. Dominic in the Province of St. John Baptist of Peru. 
Translated from the Italian by Lady Herbert. New York : Catholic 
Publication Society Co. 



In Lima, the capital of Peru, just about three hundred years ago, a dark 
mulatto presented himself at the Dominican convent and begged admission 
to the order. He was quickly received, and after a time, by the unanimous 
vote of the chapter of the house, was clothed with the habit. This was to his 
immense joy, but to the disgust of his father. Martin de Porres' father was 
a Spaniard of gentle blood. He was united in lawful wedlock to a negress, 
and their son inherited the black face and other physical characteristics 
of his mother to the chagrin and disgust of his father. The latter held ahigh 
office under the Spanish crown at Lima, but when Martin had grown to be 
a youth he almost disowned him, and finally had him apprenticed to a bar- 
ber. We may, in passing, call attention to the chagrin and disgust of many 
in our times who study the black citizen of the United States, who would 
disown him and keep him for ever in the barber-shop or the pantry. We 
hope that the outcome will be as favorable to our black people, especially 
the Catholics among them, as it was to Martin de Porres. 

Martin learned the elements of surgery and medicine in the barber- 
shop, and there began to exercise his skill for the benefit of the poor, es- 
pecially during a pestilence which desolated the city. But from his earli- 
est childhood he had been favored with most extraordinary marks of divine 
predilection, which finally culminated in his vocation to the Dominican 
order. He had a good mind, was well educated, and might have been made 
a priest had he so chosen. But at his own earnest entreaty he remained a 
lay-brother, though he took the solemn vows. 

The record of his life as briefly, and we think authentically, given in this 
little volume is a long list of prodigies of heroic charity. He soon com- 
manded the purses of the rich and the hearts of the poor, while his super- 
natural gifts were of so astounding a character as to entitle him to the 



1 889 ] NE W PUBLICA TIONS. 137 

name of Thaumaturgus. His life was a strange one, as the times were 
strange, the country in which he lived being in a transition state from col- 
onization to permanent settlement. History presents a medley of humanity 
in the Peru of those days soldiers and missionaries, savages and gold- 
hunters, more picturesque than agreeable ; over them all Blessed Martin 
seemed to exert a supremacy which reminds us of St. Vincent de Paul in 
the terrible days of the Fronde. His charities were colossal, embracing 
whole districts of country and all classes of men. He was a poor mulatto 
lay-brother, yet he was in many ways the noblest figure and the most influ- 
ential man in that part of Spanish America. 

The introduction to this Life, by Bishop Vaughan, of Salford, is excellent 
in tone and in matter ; in fact, there is no question of such present interest 
as What will become of the negro? a question of critical importance, 
whether viewed from the political or religious standpoint. Such books as 
this Life introduce us to those supernatural elements of equality and pater- 
nal love as are alone capable of reconciling the diverse interests of races 
and classes. 

MANUALS OF CATHOLIC PHILOSOPHY Moral Philosophy; or, Ethics and 
Natural Law. By Joseph Rickaby, SJ. New York : Benziger Bros. 
1888. 

The First Principles of Knowledge. By John Rickaby, SJ. New York : 

Benziger Bros. 1889. 

The numerous philosophical errors of John Stuart Mill, Herbert Spen- 
cer, Huxley, and others have permeated current literature and exert a 
powerful influence in many circles, political, social, and religious. The 
ordinary text-books of Catholic philosophy have for their principal object 
the opening of the way to the study of theology, being chiefly written in 
view of a subsequent theological course. So far as attention is paid to 
purely philosophical subjects, on account of their authors being for the 
most part unacquainted with, or at least not deeply interested in, our Eng- 
lish philosophical writers, that full discussion of their systems which is so 
important for our own people is not found in these text-books. Des 
Cartes and Gioberti, Kant and Hegel occupy the space which it is desirable 
should be given to writers more influential at home. 

The manuals of Catholic philosophy which the fathers of the English 
Province of the Society of Jesus are now publishing bid fair to fill the 
vacant space and to supply this real want. The authors have all been 
(with perhaps one exception) professors who have had the care of the 
rising generation of English Jesuits, and, conformably with the practical 
spirit of the society, they have had in view the actual needs of the time 
and country. The first of the volumes mentioned above (Father Joseph 
Rickaby's Moral Philosophy), to which we shall restrict our remarks in the 
present notice, discusses (amongother subjects) Utilitarianism, the retribu- 
tive character of punishment, AltAiism, and Hedonism ; Landed Property, 
Capital, the Civil Power, and the State, and brings out in contrast with and 
opposition to the English theorists of name and note the received philos- 
ophy of the church based upon Aristotle and St. Thomas. The most pleas- 
ing feature of Father Rickaby's work is the fairness with which he states 
the position of his opponents and his readiness in accepting and acknowl- 
edging whatever is true and valuable in them. As an example of this we 
may quote the following : " A great point with modern thinkers is the 



138 NEW PUBLICATIONS. [Apr., 

inviolability of the laws of physical nature e.g. , of gravitation or of elec- 
trical induction. If these laws are represented, as J. S. Mill said they 
should be, by tendencies only, they are truly inviolable ' (p. 131). Again, 
in the chapter on Utilitarianism, after stating the principle of general 
consequences in Paley's own words, Father Rickaby proceeds : " My con- 
tention is not with this principle, which has a certain value in Ethics, and is 
used by many writers other than Utilitarians, but with the greatest Hap- 
piness principle and the principle of utility." 

i, While the principles of this work are those of the Catholic schools, Father 
Rickaby is able to discriminate and to reject the evil and choose the 
good. "The study of civil and canon lav/ flourished in the middle ages, 
while moral science, which is the study of the natural law, was still in its 
infancy. No wonder that the mediaeval jurists occasionally formulated 
maxims which can only be squared with the principles of the natural law 
by an exceeding amount of interpretation which are, in fact, much better 
dropped, quoted though they sometimes be by moralists of repute " (p. 352). 
Again : "The censorship of opinions even in a model state would vary in 
method according to men and times. The imprimatur might be either for 
all books, or only for a certain class. It might be either obligatory or 
merely matter of counsel to obtain it. We are not to adopt promiscuously 
nil the praiseworthy customs of our forefathers " (p. 370). 

The work is made attractive and interesting by illustrations drawn from 
subjects with which English readers are familiar. We are perfectly confi- 
dent that no better book can be placed in the hands of youthful students, 
either Catholic or Protestant, of moral questions, provided such students 
are willing seriously to study. 

A BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF MOTHER MARGARET MARY HALLAHAN, 
O.S.D. Abridged from her Life. London : Longmans, Green, Reader 
& Dyer. 

Margaret Hallahan was born in London, of Irish Catholic parents, on 
the 23d of January, 1803. Her parents' state of life was humble, and 
the death of her father when Margaret was but nine years of age left 
her an object of charity. Three years was all the schooling she received, 
but her mind was naturally bright and quick and her character energetic. 
She could never cipher, wrote with difficulty and with errors in spelling; 
but she loved reading, and devoured every book which came in her way. 
She was placed, soon after her father's death, in an orphan asylum, and in 
a few months' time was left in'the desolation of complete orphanhood by 
the death of her mother ; about the same time she left the asylum and was 
placed at service. She was well instructed in the principles of religion 
and had become habituated to the reception of the sacraments. 

These spiritual aids she had much need of, for she was treated by her 
mistress with excessive harshness, such as would have crushed her spirit if 
any human means could have done it. She never entirely lost the effects 
of this treatment, so that to the last there mingled with her high and inde- 
pendent spirit a certain timidity. At the age of twelve years she resolved 
to escape from this cruel slavery and ran away, knocking at the doors of the 
houses and asking if a little servant-maid was wanted. In this way she came, 
at last to a hotel and was there taken in out of pity for her forlorn condition, 
only to be recaptured, like Smike, and brought back to her former mistress, to 
be treated, however, with much greater kindness. From this place she passed, 



1 889. ] NE w PUB LIC A TIONS. 1 39 

a year or so afterwards, into a Protestant family, and suffered from inability 
to attend at Mass and from the blasphemous language of her master. She 
ended by breaking a plate over his head. In her next place the poor girl 
was subjected to indecent proposals, but, seizing a knife, she threatened to 
kill her insulter if he did not instantly leave her presence, which he at once 
proceeded to do. But her worst trials as a servant came to an end on enter- 
ing the family of a distinguished physician, in which and in those of his 
married children she remained as a nurse and sort of confidential servant 
for upwards of twenty years, fifteen of them spent in Belgium. 

While with these kind souls, full of good qualities as they were, and 
worthy to be her friends, Margaret had leisure to think of God and to at- 
tend to the deep problems of her soul. She became conscious of the se- 
cret touches of the Holy Spirit, and with the courage of a finely-constituted 
nature set herself resolutely apart for the divine service. She adopted a 
black dress and a strange-looking cap, and not without more of a motive 
than a desire for simplicity of attire ; for Margaret possessed unusual per- 
sonal attractions of which she could hardly remain, or be let remain, quite 
unknowing. Even in later years she retained traces of a peculiar noble 
beauty and an extraordinary dignity of manner, " which," as her biographer 
says, "always left the impression that she was one of nature's queens. 
These personal gifts often drew on her a kind of admiration exceedingly 
repugnant to her and to which she manifested her dislike with characteris- 
tic impetuosity. When one visitor at the house thought fit to address her 
some foolish compliment she rejected his advances with so sound a box 
on the ear that he retreated and complained that Peggy had a heavy hand 
and had used it in return for his civilities." To set all question of com- 
pany-keeping and of marriage at rest, she finally took a vow of chastity, 
being at the time about the age of twenty-two. 

The story of her sojourn in Belgium is extremely interesting, dealing as 
it does with her progress in the spiritual life and the development of her 
vocation into a distinct and settled resolve to devote herself entirely to the 
service of God in wo'rks of charity. Her plan was to remain in Belgium 
and to establish a humble little community of Dominican Tertiaries, and to 
care for invalids and instruct the ignorant. But after many sufferings, 
borne with courage and indeed cheerfulness, and after much blind groping 
about for guidance, she was led by the Spirit of God back to England. She 
was established in her labors and introduced to the necessary requirements 
for her future foundation by the venerable Bishop of Birmingham, Dr. 
Ullathorne, at that time pastor of the little Catholic flock in Coventry. 

We must beg the reader to get this sketch and to study for himself 
Mother Hallahan's subsequent career of founding and carrying on schools 
and convents and various centres of charity among the Catholics of Eng- 
land. We have dwelt particularly upon the early part of her life, because 
to us it is by far the most interesting and instructive. It tells who she is, 
and what she is the woman who, when she died, was the spiritual mother 
of so many noble-hearted souls devoted to a life of high perfection and of 
heroic charity. She was a poor servant-girl, true to her natural instincts 
of purity, industry, integrity ; loyal to her faith and its teachings ; great of 
heart and wide of mind ; taught better of God than of man ; and chosen out 
of many to be the special friend of God, and a leader of choice souls. 



140 NEW PUBLICATIONS. [Apr. 

THE DIVINE COMEDY OF DANTE. Translated into English verse, with 
notes, by John Augustine Wilstach. Boston and New York: Houghton, 
Mifflin & Co. 

We have read and we have tried to read many translations of the Divine 
Poet. We have turned quickly from some; from others we have risen tired 
and weary as one feels after making some great effort. Others again have 
roused our anger at the ignorance or stupidity of the translator, mingled, 
we must say, with a sort of contemptuous pity. But from this translation 
we turn with love; we rise strengthened and refreshed; we come away with 
thoughts of peace, for here are learning, fairness, and piety, instead of ig- 
norance, bigotry, and blasphemy. 

And first we speak of the translation. It is a good one. Its merits are 
these. It is made into English verse: not into pedantic Latinized English. 
The words chosen suit the subject. The good solid Anglo-Saxon which 
stands out so boldly in the Inferno gives to it that fierceness which it 
needs. 

Mr. Wilstach is not afraid of seeing two or more words of one syllable 
in a row as so many authors are. These think that unless every third 
word takes five or six motions of the vocal organs to speak it the English 
is poor. Thus: 

" And I, who stood intent to view the same, 
Saw muddy people in that bog effete, 
Naked and angry each when each would meet. 
And each the other would with fury smite 
With hands, head, chest, and feet ; their rage so sore 
Each with keen teeth the other maimed and tore." 

//"., Cant. viii. 109. 

"His beard was long, and lined with white hairs shone, 
Like as his tresses, whereof on his breast 
A double stream his dignity high confessed." 

Purg., Cant. i. 34-37. 

" As in a fish-pond pure whose wavelets rest, 
The fishes draw t'wards that which food they deem, 
As there they see it through the crystal beam, 
So drew a thousand splendors, then, and more, 
Our place towards, and words each uttered glad. " 

Paradise, Cant. i. 100-104. 

We see from these specimens, taken at random, that there are enough 
Anglo-Saxon words, and good, to show what we mean without constantly 
tripping over the French and Latin fences, which for many a writer ought 
to have the notice " No trespassing'' posted up. 

The transition of the style in the translation from heavy, grave, and 
severe to clear, cutting, sharp, and, lastly, to lightsome, reverent, and lofty, 
in the Paradise, Purgatorio, and Inferno respectively, is a master-stroke, 
and assures the reader that the translator has endeavored to enter into the 
mind and spirit of the author who conceived and brought forth the poem. 
We think that Mr. Wilstach has done all this well. We like, also, the 
division into verses. The long lines without a break which are found in 
blank verse are tiresome. The rhyme is good ; and altogether, as an 
English work, we have the greatest praise for it. 

Dante was a Catholic, and though he may have said bitter things 
about the Roman pontiff in his capacity as temporal ruler, nevertheless 
he had, as all good Catholics ever have had, the utmost devotion to the See 



] NEW PUBLICATIONS. 141 

of Peter. This fact, which other translators and commentators have at 
tempted to cover up or pass by, is most emphatically brought out in the 
notes. 

For this reason, if for no other, these notes in Mr. Wilstach's translation 
are of great worth. The vindication of St. Celestine V., and the manner in 
which it is shown how one must distinguish when considering Dante and 
his feelings towards the Papacy as a divine institution, and the temporal 
power and the human policy which directed it. 

iDante was no Protestant, nor had he any leanings in that direction. 
As a politician he was intensely bitter against Boniface VIII., but his 
devotion to the Holy See must have been ardent if we read the mind of 
the man in the poem. 

We hope that every Catholic that reads good books will have on his 
shelves a copy of Mr. Wilstach's Dante. It is well printed and bound, and 
for a present at Easter we could not recommend anything better. 

LEAVES FROM ST. JOHN CHRYSOSTOM. Selected and translated by Mary H. 
Allies. Edited, with a preface, by T. W. Allies, K.C.S.G. New York : 
Catholic Publication Society Co. ; London : Burns & Gates. 

From the great store of St. Chrysostom's writings Miss Allies has selected and 
translated such parts as are deemed useful and edifying. This great saint, so 
renowned for his eloquence and for his witness to the Catholic faith on points of 
modern controversy, has left to posterity a larger mass of writings than any other 
Greek Father, and in the original has a majesty of style which makes him worthy 
of the name he bears. These cullings from his works are made with good taste 
and appear in excellent English. Mr. T. W. Allies, the father of the translator, 
and well known from his historical and controversial writings, contributes a 
preface which is a sketch of the saint's life and a summary of his works. It is 
well written, full of unction, and, though all too brief, conveys a good general 
view of St. John's life and of his place in the turbulent era in which he lived. It 
is a fitting and, in a sense, a necessary introduction to the book, which itself is 
well adapted for spiritual reading, for the preparation of sermons, and for students 
of history and literature desirous of becoming acquainted with St. John's method 
and manner in treating his topics. 

THE LIFE AND WRITINGS OF THE RT. REV. JOHN MCMULLEN, D.D., First 
Bishop of Davenport, la. By the Rev. James J. McGovern, D.D. With an 
Introduction by the Rt. Rev. John Lancaster Spalding, D.D., Bishop of Peoria. 
Chicago and Milwaukee : Hoffman Bros. 

This is a memorial of a sturdy character, honest, true to himself, loyal to his 
church and his country. Whoever knew Dr. McMullen would say that he resembled 
General Grant. He was taciturn, but not morose. He was earnest, but not 
obtrusive. He was a lover of peace, but not afraid to fight for the right, and when 
he fought he won. Conscious of more than ordinary gifts, he was conspicuous 
for true humility. When oppressed by tyranny he was at once patient, silent, and 
determined to have justice done for justice' sake. His career as a prelate was so 
soon cut off by death that it looked as if Divine Providence had caused him to be 
made bishop rather to vindicate his integrity than to employ for the divine glory 
his undoubted ability for governing a diocese. 

We are tempted to reproduce in its entirety Bishop Spalding's eloquent intro- 
duction to this useful work. "Much had he endured," says the bishop, "which 
can only be hinted at trials, disappointments, labors, suspicions, false impu- 
tations, ingratitude, heartaches, and at last a shadow settled on his face and 



142 NEW PUBLICATIONS. [Apr., 1889. 

marked him as one who had known sorrows. . . . His deeply religious nature 
sustained him, and if he worked less joyously, he did not work less faithfully than 
in earlier and happier days. He was still the zealous priest, the watchful pastor, 
the true-hearted, strong man who found comfort in giving it to the poor and 
the wretched. . . . His religion was one of deeds rather than of words ; 
he lived in God's presence ; he loved Jesus Christ and his fellow-man ; he was an 
obedient son of the church, a loyal citizen, a true friend, and an upright man ; 
but his life and not his speech made all this manifest. Not a faultless man, in- 
deed ; not one whom either the world or the church would canonize ; not a great 
orator, nor a master of style, nor a profound thinker, nor an enthusiastic reformer, 
nor a skilful organizer of philanthropic schemes, but a plain, brave, and genuine 
man, the best type of the kind of men the West rears ; men who saved the Union, 
and who may yet save our religion and Christian civilization. More brilliant 
men, more learned, more popular, more fortunate, possibly, have given their lives 
to the service of the 'church in America, but among them all there was not a 
nobler character, a greater heart, or a braver soul than John McMullen.'' 

This biography has not only been a work of love, a tribute to a departed and 
beloved friend, but bears evidence of painstaking literary work. Much of the 
author's difficulties arose from the destruction of material in the great Chicago 
fire, but he succeeded in great part in remedying these difficulties by writing dur- 
ing the life-time of many of Dr. McMullen's contemporaries and intimate friends. 
Of course the people of the dioceses of Chicago and Davenport will be most in- 
terested in this memoir, but it is also a valuable contribution to the Catholic 
literature of the country. 

BOOKS RECEIVED. 



Mention of books in this place does not preclude extended notice in subsequent numbers. 

THE SERMON BIBLE : I Kings to Psalm Ixxvi. New York : A. C. Armstrong &Son. 

RECORDS OF THE ENGLISH CATHOLICS OF 1715. Compiled wholly from original documents. 
Edited by John Orlebar Payne, M.A. London: Burns & Oates ; New York : Catholic 
Publication Society Co. 

PRIMARY WRITING. An Ingenious Method of Teaching the Elements of Penmanship to 
Young Children. By Mara L. Pratt. Boston : Eastern Educational Bureau. 

TWELFTH-TIDE AND ITS OCTAVE. In Eight Meditations on the Calling of the Gentiles and 
the Epiphany of our Lord. Translated from the Italian of the Very Rev. Father Ventura, 
formerly General of the Theatines. By Alexander Wood, M.A. London: Burns & 
Oates ; New York : Catholic Publication Society Co. 

EUCHARISTIC JEWELS. For Persons living in the World. "By Percy Fitzgerald, M.A., 
F.S.A. London : Burns & Oates ; New York : Catholic Publication Society Co. 

AN EASY LITANY OF THE BLESSED VIRGIN. For Soprano, Alto, Tenor, Bass, and Organ. 
Composed by L. Bouvin, S.J., Choir-master at Canisius College, Buffalo, N. Y. New 
York : J. Fischer & Bros.; Toledo, O. : Ignatius Fischer. 

BY THE POTOMAC, AND OTHER VERSES. By Henry Collins Walsh. Published in honor of the 
Centenary of Georgetown College, 1889, and in aid of the Building Fund. Philadelphia : 
MacCalla & Co. 

THE STATE AND LOCAL GOVERNMENT OF NEW YORK, WITH THE TEXT OF ITS CONSTITU- 
TION. By Orlando Leach. An Appendix to Our Republic. Boston and New York : 
Leach, Shewell & Sanborn. 

SCIENTIFIC RELIGION ; or, Higher Possibilities of Life and Practice through the operation of 
the Natural Forces. By Laurence Oliphant. With an appendix by a Clergyman of the 
Church of England. Authorized American Edition. Buffalo: Charles A. Wenborne. 

THE DIGNITY AND DUTIES OF THE PRIEST ; or, Selva. A Collection of Materials for ecclesias- 
tical retreats. Rule of Life and Spiritual Rules. By St. Alphonsus de Liguori, Doctor of 
the Church. Edited by Rev. Eugene Grimm, C.SS.R. New York, Cincinnati, and Chi- 
cago : Benziger Bros. 

THE BOOK OF THE PROFESSED. Vols. II. and III. By the Author of Golden Sands. 
Translated from the French by Miss Ella McMahon. New York, Cincinnati, and Chicago : 
Benziger Bros. 

THE INNER LIFE OF SYRIA, PALESTINE, AND THE HOLY LAND. From my private Journal. 
By Isabel Burton. London : Kegan Paul, Trench & Co. (New York : For sale by Ben- 
ziger Bros.) 

GLEANINGS IN SCIENCE. A Series of Popular Lectures on Scientific Subjects. By Gerald 
Molloy, D.D., D.Sc., ; Rector of the Catholic University of Ireland. London and New 
York : MacMillan & Co. (For sale by Benziger Bros.) 



' 



THE 

. 

CATHOLIC WORLD. 



VOL. XLIX. MAY, 1889. No. 290. 







EASTER. 

BENEATH the prisoning bark, below 
The cruel chains of ice and snow, 
A stirring, striving, restless thing, 
It wakes the Spirit of the Spring. 

Held down by forces of the air, 
Opposed and hindered everywhere, 
A throbbing, longing, eager thing, 
It wakes the Spirit of the Spring. 

T- ^1 

Resistless are its energies ; 

Through cold and storm it shall arise, 

To pulse new life along the limbs, 

To sing its resurrection hymns 

The struggling, climbing, soaring thing, 

Unconquered Spirit of the Spring. 

Ah, Life, thou fetter on the soul ! 
Ah, Death, thou winter full of dole ! 
Ye cannot bind or hinder me, 
The call shall come to waken me. 
These cravings, hopes, activities 

Set free at last, I shall arise ! 

; 
ALICE WARD BAILEY. 

Anther st, Mass. 

Copyright. REV. A. F. HKWIT. i 



144 RELIGION IN SPAIN. [May, 



RELIGION IN SPAIN. 



I. 

IT is not the exaggeration of our southern temperament, nor 
yet the parade of patriotism, which prompts us to assert that 
Spain has been, in past times, the most religious nation of 
Europe and, of all those who had received from the Apostles the 
light of the Gospel, the most devout. The famous councils of 
Toledo occupy a foremost rank in the canonical records of the 
church. The wars of Christian Spain for the extirpation of the 
Moors and the reconquest of Spain from that invading race 
represent the greatest efforts that have ever been made by any 
nation to shake off the yoke of Mussulman impiety. Her record 
in, the history of Catholic civilization forms admirable and monu- 
mental pages therein. Her savants are the glory of science, her 
poets were bards of the faith, and their talent and skill 'extended 
even into embodying this faith into devout theatrical represen- 
tations, known as the Autos Sacrament ales, inspiring a piety which 
filled the highways of provincial districts with crosses. The 
streets of cities were adorned with niches within which were 
placed images of Spanish saints who had lived most edifying 
lives, and whose language was so impregnated with sanctity 
that Charles the Fifth declared the Spanish tongue most be- 
fitting of all others for addressing the Almighty. The monastic 
orders of Spain were Christ's own militia, body-guards of the 
faith, bulwarks against heresy, pillars of the church ; and so 
widely had they extended themselves that around their convents 
arose numerous villages, which in time grew to be districts and 
cities, becoming afterwards the most. prosperous in all the realm. 
Thus it happened that when Providence thought fit to open the 
new world to the light of the faith it placed the standard in the 
hands of Spain, which carried to that virgin soil the fruitful seed 
of the Gospel. But, alas ! modern revolution, the fruit of so-called 
free thought, the compendium of all the ancient heresies, pene- 
trated into Spain with the bayonets of Napoleon I. Not only 
thereby was the religion of our fathers threatened, but there was 
set on foot the beginning of a struggle adverse to Christian in- 
stitutions and the dogmas of the faith, the result of which was 
that venerable traditions fell to the ground, dragging down in 



1889.] RELIGION IN SPAIN. 145 

_ 

their fall a very important part of the grand Catholic edifice in 
our country. To narrate the actual state of this struggle, ex- 
plaining the causes which have led to the decadence of religion 
and pointing out the elements of resistance which still remain to 
promote its restoration, is the object of this article, which, des- 
tined as it is to be read among a new Christian people, may con- 
tain profitable lessons of experience, in whose school nations must 
educate themselves. We shall begin by setting forth the causes 
of this decadence, and defer for future, more hopeful articles men- 
tion of the elements upon which rest the future regeneration of 
the country. 

II. 

The first and principal of these causes was the introduction 
of a new regime in the government of Spain, one imbued with 
the spirit of revolution which has lorded itself over modern 
nations, and which responds to the materialistic and rationalistic 
tendencies denominated " new rights." 

The so-called Liberal government in Spain began by copy- 
ing the laws and institutions of the French Revolution, and as, in 
the words of Debonal, this was " an abo'rtion of hell," its fruits 
as a consequence have been persecution and war against the 
glory of God. It had recourse to doctrinal pretence in some 
cases, and to the mere brutal violence of demagogism in others, 
but always with the perfidious designs of satanic Voltairianism. 
This government despoiled religion of all its vital elements by 
depriving it of its goods or wealth in order to reduce it to the 
service of the state ; by dissolving its defenceless monastic com- 
munities in order to destroy its most powerful corps of vindica- 
tors and defenders ; by demolishing temples and .convents so as 
to erase with these hallowed homes of the faith the aureola of 
its artistic grandeur; by giving free rein to infidelity through 
the institution of professorships against the teachings of the 
Gospel, and, in short, by promoting corruption of the customs of 
the people through the enactment of laws which, while restrain- 
ing salutary institutions, co-operated with the introduction of 
others pestilential and demoralizing. 

We should require more space than we can here afford to 
enlarge upon the history of this work of the Liberal government, 
but, avoiding minute details and presenting the facts upon their 
most notorious side, we have only to call to mind, first, the laws 
in regard to ecclesiastical property, which, in presenting church 

vou XLIX.IO 



146 



RELIGION IN SPAIN. 



[May, 



livings, compromised many consciences and created large for- 
tunes under the protection of anti-Christian rule; secondly, the 
secular laws of teaching, which, by depriving the church of its 
rights in this respect, created new official schools where errors 
were propagated ; thirdly, the laws against Christian marriage, 
which, in destroying the basis of the family, the cradle of good 
customs and the school of sacred duties, opened a wide field for 
the demoralization of the people and gave to concubinage the 
privileges of a legal institution, thus making castaways of the 
modesty of the woman and the future of her children. 

The entire legislation has suffered from the ravages of these 
new ideas. The penal code extenuates transgressions against 
morality and religion. Rules and regulations are made calcu- 
lated to interfere with the church's action. The political re 1 - 
gime appears, in fact, to be on the high road to tear up religion 
and the faith in Spain. 

III.. 

The logical consequences and natural fruit of this new cur- 
rent of ideas has been the displacing of the wealth which before 
was in the hands of princes of the church, ecclesiastical corpora- 
tions, and those noble ancient houses and permanent institutions 
whose munificent charity relieved their subjects, their depen- 
dants, and the poor. In the present day, by reason of the 
mortmain and public credit, the greater part of these riches, for- 
merly so beneficently applied, have passed into the possession 
of parvenus without conscience, who feel themselves neither re- 
strained nor in any way bound by the self-imposed obligations 
of the former owners, and who employ their abundant means 
either in some instances for purposes of corruption, or of domina- 
tion in others,- and generally in satisfying the caprices of sense- 
less vanity and unbridled, scandalous luxury. These rich up- 
starts, more or less refractory to the church, because so many of 
them have waxed fat on her despoiled good things, withhold 
their influence and co-operation from religious societies ; and 
consequently the confraternities and brotherhoods consecrated 
to the service of God and to the assistance of the sick and poor 
are left with very scant means to do good. But it is a striking 
fact, proving the fruitful influence of religion, that despite this 
abstention from good work on the part of so many of these nou- 
veaux riches, old charitable institutions are still sustained, and 
new ones, more in harmony with the needs of our times, are con- 
tinually springing up. The general situation in this matter 



1889.] RELIGION IN SPAIN. 147 

is, however, plain enough ; the greater part of the wealth of 
the country is lodged in the hands of the Liberals, who spend it 
in dissipation, while the Catholics, who are most anxious for the 
glory of God, nearly all lack that social influence which money 
alone can give. Accordingly, we see that in Spain the Catholic 
press is worse remunerated, of more precarious and humble ex- 
istence than any other ; while, on the other hand, the revolu- 
tionary and ungodly press, which tolerates, nay, approves, of the 
dissipations of sensuality, keeps on extending itself, increasing in 
prosperity, and carrying to all quarters its original sin. This 
new distribution of wealth is the cause of many obstacles to the 
church's action, and has brought about so many sad deteriora- 
tions in the customs of Spain that these alone suffice to account 
for the decadence of religion. In a nation whose peasant popula- 
tion is miserably poor and has to struggle with the scarcity of 
natural productions, and with foreign competition from all quar- 
ters of the world, the rich can effect a great deal, but in Spain 
their influence is so much greater because the poor there have 
been ever accustomed to live under the wing of the powerful. 

r 4 

IV. 

We have already stated that the ungodly press is widespread 
and has numerous resources. Now this is another of the causes 
of the decadence of religion in Spain. We wish it to be under- 
stood that by a godless press we imply not only that which attacks 
openly the dogmas of the faith, but that also which, under the 
guise of indifference to Catholic questions, encourages ignorance 
in matters of religion, which last is the root and foundation of all 
the evils the church suffers from in these times. To exaggerate 
the ravages caused by these newspapers is hardly possible. 
Constituting themselves masters of all classes of society, they 
disseminate daily, far and wide, a darkness which clouds the 
understanding and renders the already debilitated minds ot 
the men of our century more and more inclined to apathy. 
Modern journalism of this sort is a plague. How is it possible 
for grave questions, which formerly took up in their solution the 
entire lifetime of learned men, to be properly treated in an 
article hurriedly tossed off for a daily paper, on priori reason- 
ing, under the flag of a determined party whose interest depends 
on maintaining, by no matter what means, the integrity of their 
programme ? And yet by such teaching are being educated to- 
day the intelligences of the rising generation. Of this character 



148 RELIGION IN SPAIN. [May, 

are the professorships now raised up in opposition to Catholic 
pulpits, and thus ignorance is diffused, so to speak, throughout 
all ranks of society, and opposition and obstinate resistance are 
aroused to the action of the church. In Spain the ravages have 
been great Spain, the home of Autos Sacramentales, or passion- 
plays of olden times, when theological acting was not only 
understood but applauded even by the lower classes. Then the 
poorest peasants knew by heart the whole of the Christian doc- 
trine and were fair judges of the profoundest sermons of scholas- 
tical doctors in a country which Veuillot calls " theological par excel- 
lence" Ignorance in religious matters has increased everywhere, 
but to a supereminent degree among the highest classes, which, 
it may almost be said, are in this respect almost on the verge of 
jjidiocy. It is really quite startling to hear in literary gather- 
littgs, on the floor of parliament, at the meetings of social life 
ithe explanations ventured upon regarding ecclesiastical questions 
-even by people who pass for pious; their ignorance is incredible. 
^Som-e oppose fasting as a custom of a barbarous epoch ; others 
despise the Mass as only one among many ceremonies enjoined 
i by the <church ; others again speak of the pope as merely a bishop 
like any other, and laugh at the idea of his infallibility ; some get 
.quite mixed on the sacred mysteries and dogmas of the faith, 
jumbling men and doctrines together as if they were treating of 
the mythology of India or China. 

.It is, however, true that we are not without a few Catholic 
newspapers, Ibiit our means of defence are never equal to those of 
the .attacking forces, because habitual readers of bad newspapers 
never care to see what good ones contain; these being them- 
selves dragged on by the force of the current of political events, 
cannot consecrate themselves exclusively to the defence and 
promotion of Catholic interests. In short, the harm done by 
the presses immense, and the remedy, humanly speaking, very 
, difficult. 

V. 

Another cause of the decadence of religion in Spain is the 
sensuality introduced with modern customs. In this country 
they have been copying for the last century French customs, 
and, as nearly always happens, have hit upon the worst. The 
dramas and novels of the school called realistic, the pestilen- 
tial doctrines of modern sensualism, are imported into Spain, are 
lowering inevitably the noble condition which makes man the 



.] RELIGION IN SPAIN. 149 

image of his Creator and putting him on the level of the brute, 
nay, even below it, by making the gratification of the senses the 
sole end of existence upon earth. How immeasurable, then, 
must be the harm which flows from the causes above explained ! 
They stifle in the heart that charity which St. Paul describes 
as u patient, generous, long suffering," and they create ferocious 
antagonism between those who fiercely contend in the struggle 
to get that gold which is the apple of discord, the means they 
look to for satisfying all their desires. Their minds, thus brutal- 
ized, become hostile to the spirit of Christianity and to the 
supernatural mysteries of the church. Souls are drawn away 
from religious worship and the frequentation of the sacra- 
ments, and society is ruled by the laws. of the passions, which 
are, as a matter of course, the germ of permanent war and crime. 
Suicide, so rare in Spain in olden times, is to-day unfortunately 
very frequent. Men and women take their own lives upon 
slight pretext, and, what is still more horrible, in. the young of 
both sexes crime has increased within a few years in about equal 
proportion with the introduction of materialistic doctrines from 
France, which avail only for the destruction of the ancient em- 
pire of Christian morality. And it is to be observed that the rav- 
ages of modern sensualism have, like most physical maladies, 
two most trying stages, in which the malady develops high fever 
and convulsions, the former upsetting the patient and the latter 
bringing on a prostration which leaves him in a state of stupor 
in which he has not even power to endeavor to preserve the re- 
mainder of his life ; similar to this by analogy is the weakness 
brought on by the decay of moral force. The capital sin of 
spiritual sloth is also another main cause, and leads multitudes to 
evil, notwithstanding their desire to be good. By this spiritual 
inertness we mean religious indifference, which deserves the ap- 
pellation given to it, because that indifference in general embraces 
in its characteristics all the manifestations of the moral and reli- 
gious debility of our times. Let us see in our next chapter how 
this sickness of the soul shows itself. 

VI. 

The English Protestant societies are under a great delusion 
in imagining that they are making proselytes. The Spanish 
people are not easily moved to change their religion. They 
may fall into religious indifference, but to turn round in hostility 
to the religion of their forefathers is an event utterly improbable. 



150 RELIGION IN SPAIN. [May, 

The Protestant propaganda in Spain, notwithstanding the money 
it has cost and still costs (although the pecuniary sources are 
being dried up), produces indifference, but not Protestants. 
After twenty years of hard work, dating from Prim's unfor- 
tunate revolution of September, 1868, it may be stated with 
certainty that there have been no real conversions, more pro- 
perly termed perversions. By dint of money some few have 
been gained over, but the perverts thus obtained have remain- 
ed as indifferent as before, so that it is fair to assert that in 
their case Luther's doctrine has penetrated no deeper into them 
than the lining of their pockets. This terrible plague of reli- 
gious indifferentism results, as above said, from the various 
causes already enumerated ; it is spread among all classes, mani- 
festing itself in a variety of forms, but always of the same type. 

We are not now speaking of indifferentism solely in connec- 
tion with religious matters, but also of the havoc it makes in the 
natural order of things. There is indifferentism on the part of 
the judges of the land in regard to their decisions ; the teachers 
in the schools are indifferent about teaching the truth ; fathers 
of families offend in this regard in the education of their chil- 
dren ; men of business in not keeping their transactions free 
from the taint of fraud ; the rich in not using their means ac- 
cording to righteousness, and the poor in lack of resignation to 
their lot. Indifferentism is to the Christian soul what frost is to 

k 

physical nature ; it kills, or at least weakens, all the elements of 
life and converts society into cemeteries of corruption. Indiffer- 
entism is causing great ravages in Spain now that the immense 
treasures left, by our ancestors to beneficent societies are nearly 
all gone. There is scarcely a parish in our country where in 
proof of this one does not find venerable ruins, the foot-prints, as 
it were, of a* grand past. The degradation of our customs caused 
by this indifferentism is on the increase ; narratives of the most 
horrible crimes are listened to with a curiosity similar to that 
excited by a novel or drama, but without the horror a.wakened 
in olden times and without any of the just indignation which 
ought to arise in a Christian community. French manners, so 
frivolous in their development, so capricious, are entirely chang- 
ing our character, erasing almost completely the proverbial 
gravity of the Spaniard, and making him resemble his super 
ficial neighbor's one unfavorable side of character. The ancient 
piety of Spain tended to asceticism, as evidenced by many old 
gloomy cathedrals, with their bleeding crucifixes representing 
the dolorous agony of the Son of God. These proclivities are 



1889.] RELIGION IN SPAIN. 151 

at variance with the fashions of to-day ; in the matter of piety 
people now please themselves with new devotions, new feasts, 
elegant penances, much external pomp all of which, if not 
actually bad, compared with the ancient piety of Spain, are mere 
novelties not in keeping with the character of the people, and as 
a consequence not acceptable to that part of it which is, after all, 
much more independent and discriminating than the so-called 
illustrious and distinguished public. In this way religious in- 
difference day by day becomes more enervating in its influence, 
and though more apparent in large towns, it also makes its way 
into the country districts of Spain, where it weans the people 
from the practices of their religion without their having the 
power to resist the influence of fashionable example. But if in- 
difference propagates itself and is found in all classes and condi- 
tions in life, there is yet one spot which it fortunately rarely 
reaches, viz. : the bedside of the dying. In Spain deaths with- 
out the consolations of religion are extremely rare. Death-bed 
conversions, edifying and peaceful, are of daily occurrence. 
Since the civil cemeteries have been opened, now twenty years 
ago, there have not been even a dozen burials in them, and even 
these took place because the will of the living, not of the de- 
ceased, prevailed. Certain cases are well known of free thinkers 
in the agony of death whose bedsides were beset by their fellows 
in unbelief, colleagues who would not permit, the family to 
interfere, thus endeavoring by a most horrible tyranny to adorn 
the free-thinkers' banner with the name of one more recreant ; 
but, as above stated, in Spain cases of final impenitence are ex- 
tremely rare. Spaniards, even if thus disposed, when they feel 
their last moments approaching open their eyes to the truths of 
eternity, and the most bitter free-thinker calls to his aid the 
Christian religion, which like a loving mother opens her arms, 
and after lavishing upon him ineffable consolation in the hour of 
death, lays under her loving shadow his mortal remains, which 
were the abode of the Holy Spirit. These observations will serve 
to prepare the way towards the next article, in which we shall 
examine the elements which still remain and which open the 
heart to the hope of better days for the church, the state, and 
society through the restoration of the church in Spain. 

Madrid. 

MANUEL PEREZ VILLAMIL, 



152 SLIGHTED GRACES. [May, 



SLIGHTED GRACES. 

I ROSE at morn and looked abroad 

Across the dreary view ; 
And lo ! the footsteps of a God 

There chronicled in dew. 
" The gems from off His sandal-shoon," 

Methought, "are lying there. 
Perchance He dropped them as a boon 

To lighten my despair." 






But I was in that sullen mood 

Which turneth from the light, 
And will not look on any good 

Lest darkness should wax bright. 
Howbeit, when noon o'erflamed the blue 

I walked the meads upon 
To lave my forehead with the dew : 

Alas ! the dew was gone ! 

O churlish earth ! O ingrate man ! 

Thus ever doth it fare. 
God's sandals pass within our span 

And drop God's jewels there. 
And when that we, too proud to bend 

At once, stoop half-ashamed, 
We marvel if the slighted Friend 

His bounty have reclaimed. 

FRANK WATERS. 

Cornwall^ Ont. 



.] EXTINCT REPTILES AND MAMMALS. 153 



EXTINCT REPTILES AND MAMMALS OF NORTH 

AMERICA. 

IN studying- the history of the earth we find it difficult at first 
to change the perspective, if we may use such a phrase here, 
and to accustom our vision to the light, not of historical but of 
geological time. The former is a period so very brief compared 
with the latter that it seems to take up little more than the 
space of a day. We are now going to speak of times far beyond 
the twilight of history, and we shall divide our subject into two 
parts, namely, the era of reptiles and the era of mammals. 

A picture of North America in the era of reptiles would 
show us the Gulf of Mexico extending far up the Mississippi 
valley, as far almost as the head-waters of the Missouri. 
Neither the Rocky Mountains nor the Alleghanies had yet at- 
tained to their present elevation ; the climate was milder than at 
present, and all the conditions were favorable to the wonderful 
creatures which then ruled the sea, the land, and the air. A 
generation ago the distinguished geologist, Professor Dana, dis- 
covered in the coal measures of Pennsylvania the tracks of a 
four-footed crawling animal, the impression of whose tail was 
also plainly visible on the surface of the slab, together with rip- 
ple bars and rain prints. This amphibian, whose fossil skeleton 
was afterwards found, has been named Labyrinthodont, on ac- 
count of the labyrinthine structure of its teeth. It had lungs as 
well as gills, its hind legs were much longer than its fore legs, 
its head was three feet long and two feet wide, the body was 
partly protected by large, bony plates, and one of its teeth pro- 
jected three inches and a half beyond the jaw. In general 
appearance the Labyrinthodont was not unlike a salamander. 
Since then other Labyrinthodonts have been discovered, some of 
them serpent-like in form ; but none are frog-like or without a 
tail, as they are made to appear in the text-books. In the Laby- 
rinthodont we have the most ancient representative of the class 
of amphibians on this continent, the forerunner of the true rep- 
tile. A very singular, lizard-like reptile was the Dicynodon, 
which had the head and horny beak of a tortoise, and two curv- 
ed, overhanging canine teeth from the upper jaw. Its head was 
twenty inches long and eighteen inches wide. The Dinosaur, 
whose remains can be traced in a narrow belt of strata for 



154 EXTINCT REPTILES AND MAMMALS. [May, 

several hundred miles along the Rocky Mountains, possesses a 
peculiar interest to the anatomist ; for although in its chief char- 
acteristics it was reptilian, it showed unmistakable affinities to 
birds, while in some features it was closely allied to mammals. 
Dinosaurs walked with a free step like quadrupeds, instead of 
crawling like reptiles. They were also able to walk on their 
hind legs alone. Their length was not less than thirty feet, 
while some fossil specimens measure sixty feet. The bulk of the 
Dinosaur was several times greater than an elephant, it fed on 
grass, and the best opinion is that its habits were like those of a 
hippopotamus. We may add that a field party of the United 
States Geological Survey discovered in Montana during the past 
season some new Dinosaurs of uncommon interest. They were 
thirty feet in length and armed with a pair of horns very like in 
form and position to the 'horns of some of the hoofed mammals. 
Close by were found some large dermal plates that indicate a 
well-ossified armor. The armor and the horns must have given 
these reptiles a singular appearance. Another reptile, not quite 
so large as the Dinosaur but more formidable, was the Dryp- 
tosaurus, or Lcelaps, which replaces here the Megalosaur of 
Europe. It was carnivorous, with jaws full of curved, sabre-like 
teeth. But, although by no means the largest, perhaps the most 
extraordinary of all reptiles was the Pterodactyl. In the Ptero- 
dactyl we see combined the long, flexible neck and hollow, air- 
filled limb-bones characteristic of birds, with the head and jaws 
of a reptile, together with the membranous wings of a bat. But, 
unlike the bat, it had only one elongated finger to support the 
wing; its other four fingers being free and armed with terrible 
claws. Fossil specimens have been found in Wyoming which 
measure twenty-five feet between the tips of the wings. Some 
American Pterodactyls had teeth, others were toothless. Their 
food was probably fish. The Mosasaur, which replaces in Ame- 
rica the Ichthyosaurus of the old world, was a gigantic swim- 
ming lizard, some specimens of which measure sixty feet. It 
had four well-developed paddles. The remains of the Mosasaur 
are abundant in the Rocky Mountains. Professor Marsh says : 
" On one occasion, as I rode through a valley washed out of this 
old ocean bed, I saw no less than seven different skeletons of 
these monsters in sight at once.' 5 An interesting reptile-like 
bird of this era was the Hesperornis Regalis, discovered in Kan- 
sas, and which measured six feet from the toe to the tip of the 
bill. It was evidently a water bird, and from its diminutive 
wings incapable oi flight. But instead of the horny beak char- 



.] EXTINCT REPTILES AND MAMMALS. 155 

acteristic of birds it had long jaws full of conical teeth, twenty 
on each side, and strongly resembling the teeth of reptiles. It 
had also a vertebrated reptilian tail, composed of twelve ver- 
tebras. The Hesperornis Regalis is supposed to have been a 
carnivorous swimming ostrich. Its brain was very small com- 
pared with later birds, it being only one-third the size of a 
loon's brain. Another toothed bird living in this era, but very 
much smaller, was the Ichthyornis. The teeth of Ichthyornis, 
unlike those of Hesperornis, had the highly specialized feature 
of being set in distinct sockets instead of in grooves, while its 
wing-bones show that it possessed great powers of flight. As 
the remains of fishes have been found in great abundance near 
it, it probably fed on fish. Like Hesperornis, its brain was very 
small compared with modern birds. It is strange that in the 
same fossil beds with these two ancient toothed birds have been 
found the Pterodactyls without teeth. Very few fossil serpents 
have been found on our continent, and these were all in Mon- 
mouth County, New Jersey. The largest was a Boa thirty feet 
long. 

The last reptile which we shall mention is the Atlantosaurus, 
discovered by Professor Marsh in Colorado. Judging by its 
remains in the Yale College Museum, the Atlantosaurus when 
alive must have been one hundred and fifteen feet long, and its 
height not less than thirty feet. It was a species of crocodile, 
and was by far the largest land animal that has yet been dis- 
covered. What a sight it must have been to see all these 
strange forms swimming and crawling along those ancient 
shores ! Here we behold a huge water-lizard paddling towards 
an Hesperornis Regalis that has trespassed on its feeding 
ground. The ostrich swims slowly away and at the same time 
opens its jaws and shows its teeth at Mosasaur. Feeding on the 
rank grass not far from the shore is a Dinosaur; we might take 
it for a hippopotamus only that in bulk it is larger than an 
elephant. A formidable creature, we should imagine, and yet it 
suddenly stops eating and retreats, for a Glyptosaurus has ap- 
peared ; it is inferior to the Dinosaur in size, but is armed with 
terrible teeth. Yet, fierce and dangerous as Glyptosaurus is, it 
presently comes to a halt ; something is rising up out of the 
rushes in front oi it ; from the crocodile's head to the end of its 
tail is almost forty paces, and when Atlantosaurus stands erect 
it is as high as a small house. Atlantosaurus is the king of rep- 
tiles. He may go and do what he pleases. Then when evening 
approaches we hear a loud flapping of wings and the air be- 



156 EXTINCT REPTILES AND MAMMALS. [May, 

comes full of unearthly cries. We look up and see a host of 
Pterodactyls flying dragons trooping towards the shore to 
fish. Ghostly sight ! 

Let us now pass on to the era of mammals. The first mam- 
mals that we shall speak of are Marsupials. Marsupials are 
very unlike ordinary typical mammals. Their young are born 
in an imperfect condition and then placed in an abdominal 
pouch (marsupium), where the foetus completes its embryonic 
development. Kangaroos and Opossums are marsupials, and 
all the earliest mammals belonged to this class. Judging by 
their fossil remains, Marsupials were abundant during the rep- 
tile era. But as they were wholly unable to cope with the mon- 
sters among which they lived, the latter have justly given their 
name to that early period of our earth's history. It was not un- 
til the great reptiles finally disappeared and mammals more 
highly developed than Marsupials came upon the scene that the 
era of mammals may be said to have fairly commenced. And 
here, too, what may be called modern geological history com- 
menced. The cause which brought about this extraordinary 
change in the life-system was probably a continental movement, 
accompanied by a change of climate, which grew colder. The 
land slowly rose upward, the sea retired into what is now the 
Gulf of Mexico, and left behind it in the interior of the conti- 
nent several extensive lakes of brackish water, the shore lines of 
which may still be traced. A few reptiles, of course, remained, 
but they were pigmies compared with those which had gone ; 
the new rulers of the continent were henceforth mammals. But 
if some of the reptiles which we have mentioned were remark- 
able creatures, we now find mammals no less remarkable. Per- 
haps the most formidable and singular mammal was the Dino- 
ceras, found by Professor Marsh in Wyoming. In a single lake 
basin he found two hundred individuals. The Dinoceras was a 
tapir-like animal, as large as an elephant, and armed with three 
pairs of horns anol a pair of tusks. The first pair of horns was 
on top of its head, the second pair just above the eyes, and the 
third and shortest pair grew sideways on the snout. The brain 
of the Dinoceras was proportionately smaller than in any other 
known mammal, recent or fossil ; it was even smaller than in 
some reptiles. Here let us observe that the progress of mam- 
malian life in America is well illustrated by the brain growth. 
It furnishes the key to many other changes. The earliest mam- 
mals all had small brains. 

In the " Mauvaises Terres " of Nebraska have been found the 



.] EXTINCT REPTILES AND MAMMALS. 157 

remains of the earliest horse, Eohippus, about as large as a fox, 
together with the remains of the Rhinoceros, Elephant, and Mas- 
todon ; but this Mastodon was smaller than the Mastodon of a 
later period. The brain of this early Rhinoceros was only one- 
eighth the size of the brain of a modern Rhinoceros. The same 
gradual increase is observed in the brain of the Mastodon. As 
time went on the great interior lakes were drained off and 
new mammals came upon the scene. We now find the horse 
.increased in size, and it has only one toe, or hoof, instead of four, 
and the rudiment of another on each forefoot, and three behind, 
as in Eohippus. Camels also appear. Indeed, both the horse 
and camel seem to have originated in North America. To quote 
Professor Dana : " The large number of camels and horses gives 
a decided oriental character to the fauna." 

At this period mammals fairly swarmed. It was the culmina- 
tion of the mammal era ; and across the bridge, where is now 
Behring's Straits, the horse, camel, and rhinoceros originally 
true American types migrated to Asia. Professor Marsh says : 
" An elevation of only one hundred and eighty feet would close 
Behring's Straits and give a road thirty miles wide from America 
to Asia. We thus see how this migration might have taken 
place. That such a bridge did once exist we have much inde- 
pendent testimony." 

With the herds of horses and camels were Bison, whose 
horns measured ten feet between the tips. There were also true 
Tapirs, Stags as big as the extinct Irish stag, Lions not unlike the 
present African lion, Elephants. Mastodons, and Llamas the size 
of a camel. In the Bigbone Lick, Kentucky, the remains of 
twenty Mastodons and one hundred Elephants have been dug 
up. Perhaps the finest Mastodon was the one found near New- 
burgh, New York. Its legs were bent under it, and its head was 
thrown back, as it vainly struggled to escape from the mire into 
which it was sinking. In the place where the stomach had been 
were half-chewed twigs of spruce. 

The Mastodon Americanus, which was thirteen feet high, 
was the largest living mammal on this continent, and it differed 
from the Elephant chiefly in the character of its teeth. 

As far north as Georgia lived a remarkable beast, the Mega- 
therium. It was a huge Sloth. Several excellent specimens 
have been found, near the mouth of the Savannah River, which 
measured eighteen feet in length. The Megatherium had an ex- 
ceedingly massive skeleton, and from its ponderous hip-bones 
and tail it is supposed to have been able to support itself on its 



158 EXTINCT REPTILES AND MAMMALS. [May, 

tail and hind legs, while with its great fore legs, ending in claws 
thirty-six inches long, it tore down the branches of the trees on 
which it fed. In Utah and Oregon Professor Marsh found re- 
cently several curious extinct Rhinoceroses with a pair of nasal 
horns set side by side, and not behind each other, as in the two- 
horned Rhinoceros of our day. These animals were of small 

size. 

Another curious animal existing towards the end of the 
mammal era was the Oreodont. It was the size of the existing 
Peccary and bore not a little structural resemblance to the deer 
and camel. The Oreodont has been termed by Professor Leidy 
" a ruminating hog." It was exclusively American, having been 
found nowhere else but in North America. 

Thus far no remains of the Giraffe or Hippopotamus have 
been discovered on our continent. 

The first fossil monkey in North America was found in 
Nebraska, and near it were the remains of an animal called the 
Brontotherium. The Brontotherium was almost as large as an 
Elephant, but had much shorter legs. Its feet were like the 
feet of the Rhinoceros, and its nose was probably flexible as in 
the Tapir, but it had no true proboscis. It was armed with a 
pair of powerful horns. 

We have now arrived at another period of change in the life- 
system ; by no means so radical a change as between the era of 
reptiles and the era of mammals, but nevertheless it was a 
marked change. Camels, Horses, Tapirs, Elephants, Lions, Rhi- 
noceroses, Llamas all became extinct in North America. Now, 
we cannot but believe there must have been some physical cause 
for the disappearance of these animals, and it must hav-e been a 
cause acting over a great part of the continent. This cause is 
believed to have been the Glacial epoch. This epoch was a 
blank period so far as animal life is concerned. Not a trace of 
any quadrupeds can be found in North America until the end of 
the ice age, and then the Mammoth appears covered with long, 
woolly hair to shield him from the cold. It is not our purpose 
to discuss the ice age, which in geological history was compara- 
tively brief; it was a mere episode. Mr. Belt, one of the most 
recent and a very able writer on the subject, believes that the cold 
period was simultaneous in both hemispheres. We may thus, he 
says, explain the late discovery of ice action in Central America 
and in the highlands of Brazil. He likewise explains the phe- 
nomena of raised beds of Arctic marine shells in temperate lati- 
tudes by the weight of the north polar ice-cap having caused 



1889.] CONGREGATIONAL SINGING. 159 

parts of our hemisphere to be flooded with water from the Arctic 
regions, Be this as it may, the era of wonderful mammals cer- 
tainly came to an end at a no very remote period in the past. 

Wallace says : " We live in a zoologically impoverished 
world, from which all the hugest and fiercest and strangest 
forms have recently disappeared ; and it is no doubt a much 
better world for us now they have gone." Yes, it is a much 
better world. But we may see the fossil remains of all these 
extinct reptiles and mammals either in the American Museum of 
Natural History in the city of New York, in the Museum of 
Columbia College, enriched by the collections of Professor New- 
berry, or in the Museum of Yale College, New Haven, where 
are preserved the interesting discoveries of Professor Marsh. 

WILLIAM SETON. 



WILL CONGREGATIONAL SINGING PROFIT FAITH 

AND MORALS ? 

IF the various pleas lately made in these pages for congre 
gational singing met with no better success than to set a few 
earnest, zealous people thinking about the matter, I would deem 
the words as not written in vain. Since those articles were pub- 
lished my attention has been called to the fact that many non- 
Catholic magazines and newspapers were occupied about the 
same time in discussing the subject, as they still continue to do, 
bringing forward the most forcible arguments in its favor, and 
also presenting many interesting statistics in order to show the 
present condition of collective, common singing in their churches 
and exhibit results by which it may be compared with their 
efforts in preceding years. Altogether the most exhaustive and 
instructive work devoted to this object which has come under 
my notice is one in two volumes, entitled Studies in Worship 
Music, by J. S. Curwen, published in England (London : J. S. 
Curwen & Sons). Mr. Curwen is the son of the well-known 
musicologue and teacher, John Curwen, to, whose efforts the 
Tonic Sol-Fa movement owes so much for its widespread popu- 
larity. A glance at the contents of this work will not be out of 
place here. 

The first volume is divided into historical, practical, and de- 
scriptive sections. Under the first heading the author gives a 



160 WILL CONGREGATIONAL SINGING [May, 

sketch of the rise and progress of what may be called " Psalm- 
ody " among Protestant denominations. It will be seen from a 
perusal of the titles of the subjects given under the head of 
" practical " that there is much to interest the friends of congre- 
gational singing. They are as follows: "The Organ in Divine 
Service; The Harmonium and American Organ; Chanting; The 
Style of Harmony proper for Congregational Music ; The 
Rhythm and Notation of Hymn-tunes ; The Old Fugal Tunes ; 
The Training of Boys' Voices ; How to Train a Congregation ; 
The Argument for Congregational Singing." The descriptive 
section consists chiefly of criticisms of the singing in various 
London churches. The second volume is mainly made up of 
similar critical notices, written after personal visits to the famous 
choir-schools of London ; the Chapel Royal, conducted by Mr. 
Helmore; Westminster Abbey, by Dr. Bridge, and St. Paul's, 
under Dr. Stainer. These are followed by sketches of singing 
in Wales and a dispassionate review of the singing by the Salva- 
tion Army, at the Moody and Sankey meetings, the Spurgeon 
Tabernacle, and others, not omitting a visit to the London Ora- 
tory, concluding with a very instructive article on " Singing in 
Sunday-schools." 

All through these two volumes one finds many and cogent 
arguments in favor of congregational singing. There are also 
excellent hints concerning a proper style to be adopted in organ 
accompaniment. One point is quite noteworthy. It is taken 
for granted, both by Mr. Curwen and by all persons whom he 
has visited and whose opinions he quotes, whether musicians or 
clergymen, that congregational singing should be encouraged 
because it secures an increase of personal intelligent devotion in 
the worshippers, and that, of course, it is a question entirely of 
the praise and glory of God, and not one of " success as a musi- 
cal performance." This is an edifying truth, which it is to be 
owned with regret is not universally acknowledged. There are 
too many churches in which it would seem to be rather a ques- 
tion of the praise and glory of the choir and the pleasure to be 
given to a musically cultivated audience. 

I flatter myself that those who have perused former articles 
on this subject in this magazine are in no need of being disabused 
of the ignorant prejudice which, for lack of experience, leads 
some to identify the practice of congregational singing with Pro- 
testantism as a heresy, and to regard its advocacy as a departure 
from the true Catholic standard, or at any rate as tending to 
bring in a fashion which is extravagant and vulgar and likely to 



1889-] PROFIT FAITH AND MORALS? 161 

deprive the church of much that adds splendor and impressive- 
ness to her ritual. This last objection might appear to be of 
some weight were it not for the fact that there is a widespread 
and growing conviction in thoughtful minds that where splendor 
in the services of religious worship is unaccompanied with an 
increase of intelligent devotion among the masses, and is, in fact, 
not unfrequently achieved at the expense of such devotion, all 
this magnificent ritual display is but an empty show, an exhibi- 
tion, at best, of faith without charity, " as sounding brass and a 
tinkling cymbal." 

The solemn services of the church were never instituted with 
a view to their performance in presence of a limited class of 
people who happen to live in large towns and cities, and who 
can afford to wear fine clothes and rent a high-priced pew, as 
the experience of many in our day might justify them in suppos- 
ing. One might as well suppose from a similar experience that 
the church intended that sermons should only be preached to 
the same class. Thank God, the pastoral solicitude of the bishops 
has shown of late that they are not unmindful of the promise of 
our Lord that the poor should have the Gospel preached to 
them. But the too common custom, not confined wholly to our 
American and other English-speaking churches, which has prac- 
tically drawn an unchristian and uncatholic line of demarcation 
between the rich, or those who pass for such, and the poor, giv. 
ing High Mass or other solemn celebrations of divine worship to 
the former and Low Mass to the latter, must soon give way 
before the oncoming tide of increased popular education with its 
evident accompa/nying popular struggle for intelligent faith. We 
are not far from the opening of an era which will be marked by 
a great restoration of faith and morals, to which not only the 
Catholic Church, but the great mass of the church-deserted and 
church-deserting world not so directly influenced by her action, 
will be provoked by the insane and malodorous efforts of infi- 
delity to destroy the foundations of all true knowledge and the 
basis of all moral responsibility. Science and Progress are the 
names of its new Adam and Eve from whom it hopes to propa- 
gate a new race, " who shall be as gods, knowing good and evil." 
It is plain to us that they are both fallen from that high, divine 
estate in which they were constituted by the Catholic Church. 
It is simply the old story of Genesis told over again, and proba- 
bly the days of another Babel are not far distant. Already, 
indeed, is heard the " confusion of tongues" in the agnostic deifi- 
cation of doubt and the marvellous increase of what we may call 

VOL. XLIX. ii 



1 62 WILL CONGREGATIONAL SINGING [May, 

the intellectual enjoyment of the absurd in literature, and of the 
prevalent erotic thirst for the coarse and obscene in art and the 
drama. 

It has ever been the proud and worthy boast of the Catholic 
Church that her work has been the regeneration of mankind in 
all human relations. She is unquestionably the mother and mis- 
tress of what we know and prize as " Christian " civilization, the 
prophet and protector of human liberty, and the records of her 
life-work amply prove that she promulgated, fostered, and often 
at bitter cost protected, principles of doctrine and morals lying 
at the very foundation of society. He who would affirm that 
she is or ever was an enemy to true science and true progress is 
simply a liar. The science which she encourages and the pro- 
gress she stimulates are, however, based upon her efforts to 
realize quite another ideal than that which feverishly agitates 
the modern demagogues who have assumed these terms as their 
watchwords. In the fulfilment of her divine mission the church 
seeks to realize a divine ideal founded upon the new life which 
the revelation of Christ affirmed as possible and necessary for 
the salvation, not only of this or that man or class of men, but 
of the whole human race, and of which revelation she is the 
accredited messenger. It was, therefore, her aim and her right 
to present this divine ideal, to proclaim its supreme dominion 
and enforce its realization in all human relations. Science, pro- 
gress, literature, the arts, the education of the masses, the powers 
of the governing and the rights of the governed, the obligations 
of the family all were subjected to a criterion of divine faith and 
divine morals. The supernatural destiny of mankind was ever 
taken for granted. Man does not find his end in himself, and 
any progress which ignores the pre-eminence of the supernatu- 
ral is not in the eyes of the church a true progress. The science 
of the Knower must ever take precedence over the science of 
the Known, with a title of supremacy not only of honor but of 
jurisdiction. " Man does not live by bread alone, but by every 
word which proceedeth from the mouth of God." 

Is it any wonder, then, that the church, having this universal 
presence of a divine ideal always before her mind, should more 
or less explicitly direct all human effort towards an end which 
offers what theologians call the formal object, an end which in- 
spires the motive of one's act? This formal object is plainly the 
glory and praise of God. The thesis is, Man is saved, if by his 
acts God be glorified. In so far as this divine ideal is realized, 
just so far does man advance in the regeneration and ultimate 
perfection of his nature. 



1889.] PROFIT FAITH AND MORALS? 163 

That the very contrary to this divine thesis is the ideal 
sought by those whom our Lord tells us are led by the spirit of 
the world, of the flesh, and of the devil needs little demonstration 
to prove. Human nature is their only deity, all-sufficing for its 
own perfection (regeneration being nothing but natural develop- 
ment) and the only worthy object of adoration and praise. 
You may talk of divine faith and divine morals if you please, 
provided you know and acknowledge no other divinity but man, 
to whom alone all honor and praise are to be ascribed. 

What application have these thoughts to congregational 
singing ? They are most pertinent, the question of church 
singing being one which concerns that duty which, of all others, 
cannot be doubted must conform to a divine ideal, whose due per- 
formance involves the purest progress of man, his advancement 
in spiritual life, viz., his duty of divine worship, in which the for- 
mal object, \\\e praise of God, is, and ought to be, first, last, and all. 
Congregational singing realizes most decidedly the divine 
ideal of worship- music. Lacking this common, collective, united 
song of praise offered solely to the supreme glory of God, I need 
not attempt to show what experience has taught us, how the 
sacred assembly for worship has come to present the realization 
of anything but a divine ideal. That the church provides in a 
thousand ways for the private worship of God we all know, but 
all her public official services of worship are essentially congre- 
gational. They suppose a common assembly of the faithful united 
as a worshipping body, not in one of their own houses, nor in a 
hall of sufficient dimensions, which is no better than one of their 
own dwellings, but in a House of God, in a consecrated sanc- 
tuary of the Divine Presence. Why does the church so convoke 
the people? Because there is something more than an individ- 
ual act of praise to be rendered to the Divine Majesty. They 
are there to offer common, adoring homage, made deservedly 
divine worship by their union with the church's act of divine 
Sacrifice. 

Now, all the public services of the church are services of 
song. Her divine worship is singing worship from beginning- 
to end. That the people be assembled for a common congrega- 
tional act of worship, and that such an act be worship by singing, 
is what I call realizing a divine ideal of worship. " Young men 
and maidens, old men and children," all singing, all united in 
pouring forth one common, joyful, humble hymn of devout 
praise; the tone of whose theme is, and is forcibly so emphasized 
by being congregational, " Non nobis Domine, non nobis r sed Nomini 



164 WILL CONGREGATIONAL SINGING [May, 

tuo da gloriam" Not unto us, O Lord, not unto us, but to thy 
Name only be the glory ! 

The congregation are a body of worshippers. Are they a 
singing body ? The worship is all song. Then in what are they 
a body of worshippers if they have no lot or part in the song ? 
Worship is certainly the soul of the body which they form by 
their assembled presence ; and not their own private worship, 
but the public common act of worship which the church pro- 
vides for them as an assembled body of worshippers. When 
the church says to them, This is the worship ye shall here offer, 
she also says, And this is the song ye shall sing. Therefore, I 
do not hesitate to draw this conclusion : Only when a Catholic 
congregation is a body of singing worshippers can it be said 
that the highest ideal of Catholic Church worship is realized. 
The less there is of it, the more silent the people, the more promi- 
rnent does the human ideal present itself the entertainment 
of a listening audience, the pleasure derived from hearing sing- 
dug performed for its own sake, or as an exhibition of vocal art, 
ending as it must and does in the people losing their autonomy 
as a worshipping body and shrinking back into a collection of 
^individuals, losing all intelligent appreciation of the act of wor- 
ship and thrust upon their own resources to make private acts of 
worship (saving the infallible distractions of spirit) which, how- 
ever good in themselves, have but an indefinite and general bond 
of union with the worship of either the church or of their as- 
sembled brethren. 

More intelligent worship, more hearty, soul-stirring, popular 
worship, is not only desirable, but let any one take the trouble to 
>test the sentiment of our people in this matter and invite a can- 
did expression of their spiritual preferences and yearnings, the 
common verdict which he will be sure of hearing ought of itself 
to be quite enough to convince him that the question of congre- 
gational singing is not one of superficial interest, but one which 
lies very near the foundation of the people's attachment to their 
faith and their spiritual subjection to the church's moral guid- 
ance. Make the church's worship popular and attractive, make 
it arouse to enthusiasm the deepest emotions of the soul, and 
faith will be popular and the spirit will yield with joyful readi- 
ness to the invitations and admonitions of divine grace. Why? 
Because, I say again, it will bring the standard of the divine ideal 
of religion to the front, For Gcd and his praise alone! a watch- 
word which, through the public acts of divine worship, will most 
powerfully influence all other acts of life. 



1889.] PROFIT FAITH AND MORALS? 165 

If, then, the present writer has endeavored to make an urgent 
and earnest plea for reform in church music and presumes to 
argue for a good effort to regain the true norm of the solemn 
services of divine praise, he does so more as a priest who, in the 
course of his study, has caught faint glimpses of the splendors 
of the City of God in those days when men lived and enjoyed to 
the full the holy sweetness of that life which knew and loved 
God as the first and the best, and is convinced that an almost 
fundamental reformation of manners is not only desirable, but is 
to be aided in an extraordinary degree through the purification 
of the art of music as used by the church, than as a musician, to 
which title he lays little claim further than that which enables 
him to comprehend the mighty influence for good or evil this 
art has in attracting the soul towards or away from the Chris- 
tian standard, not only of spiritual perfection, but even of Chris- 
tian civilization. 

"Finis music ce pule hri amor" The end of music is the love 
of the beautiful. It is the sentiment of Plato, who finds all truth, 
goodness, and beauty in the " unique cause," and adds : " It is 
that beauty uncreated, imperishable, independent of all time and 
of the judgments of men [so much for the modern plea of taste], 
pure, holy, without mixture and without shadow, perfect, abso- 
lute in a word, divine." It would ill-become a Christian phi- 
losopher or a Christian artist to depreciate, either in doctrine or 
in work, this sublime definition. To say nothing of more pro- 
found aesthetic reasons, it is because the tonal art owes its con- 
ception and birth to religious inspiration, and its development 
in the expression of the nobler sentiments of the heart to the 
nurture it has received'in the sanctuaries of religion, that music 
has merited the unique title of " the divine art." Eliminate this 
divine ideal (which the true artist will never do in music of any 
sort), and ignore its expression as the end of music for the 
church, beauty can no longer be predicated of it, and the love 
which it inspires is but little better in kind than the blind, sen- 
sual passion aroused by the presence and blandishments of the 
unclean in heart. 

What, then, is the vaunted, miscalled beauty of such music to 
the true artist? What can it possibly be to the hungering souls 
of the musically uneducated multitude which crowds about the 
altars of religion, craving for that nourishment which it inno- 
cently takes for granted the church will, with true maternal in- 
stinct, give to her children, and will give it neither adulterated 
nor poisoned? They take the church at her own word of doc- 



1 66 WILL CONGREGATIONAL SINGING [May, 

trine: "Which among you, if his son ask of him bread, will 
give him a stone ; or if he ask a fish, will hand him a serpent? 

But what, in fact, do they get? I prefer to make a reply in 
the words of the Abb6 Henri Perreyve. It will be better. 
There are some through whose mouths the Holy Spirit seems to 
have spoken, and whose simple, straightforward language has 
therefore more power than the same truth upon whose expres- 
sion others may have exhausted all their resources of diction: 

" What do you see ? The theatre is dragged into the church. The 
consequences are most serious and far-reaching. Let us go to High Mass 
in one of our churches some great feast-day. Do you hear it, that ani- 
mated, brilliant, impassioned duet floating to you from the distance? Evi- 
dently the singers are first-class artists. An orchestra completes and 
enriches the harmony. Now a full chorus takes up the melody and brings 
the morceau to a grand finale. There is nothing left to be desired. 
Nothing? Look around you. What are the people, the worshippers, 
doing? There they are, not a few on tiptoe, the head turned round 
towards the organ-gallery, giving their opinions to each other of the merit 
of the virtuosi, speaking of them by name, regretting that they have so 
soon finished, and finding very long and. tedious the solemn moments of 
the Divine Sacrifice during which ' one has nothing to do ' ! Behold the 
worshippers whom this worldly music in our churches educates ! Behold 
their indifferent air, their listless, disconcerted countenances ! What a des- 
picable aspect of .the concert-hall or of the parlor the church presents ! 
rich ladies with widespreading garments seated at their ease in the promi- 
nent pews of the great nave, to whom a few idle amateurs in evening dress 
are paying personal attention, and who ' find it well done,' or ' not quite so 

good as it was last Sunday, or as the same was produced at St. 's,' 

etc., etc. But the poor where are they? Nowhere; or I hardly know 
where, huddled together down there behind the barriers ! It is impossible, 
I say, to deny the importance of congregational singing in order to main- 
tain in the temple of God the equality of all souls in his sight. The same 
song must go up from every breast and every voice must join in singing 
the same melody if you would have all hearts prostrate alike before the 
same God. However much pleased, charmed, ravished be the crowd just 
now coming out of church whom you have intoxicated with your ' beauti- 
ful ' music, what have they done, and what have you, who gave them such 
music, done, if they have not prayed? Sad but grave question, tut one to 
which I suspect more than one organist and priest to be cordially indifferent, 
and not a few of them, I am sure, would be astonished at my impudence to 
put it in such a fashion. But I say it is an essential question, a funda- 
mental one, if we recall the words of our Lord : My house shall be called 
the House of Prayer, but ye have made it ? " 

This is talking like a man who gives himself time to think, 
and realizes the serious moral aspect of this question, and like a 
priest whose thought is for the salvation of the people, and whose 
soul is fired with zeal for the honor of God's house of worship. 
But the musician, laic, and even Protestant, has about the same 



1889.] PROFIT FAITH AND MORALS? 167 

to say in other words. Mr. Curwen, in the first volume of the 
work we have noticed, presenting the argument for congrega- 
tional singing, thus discourses, p. 331 : 

" The argument is not artistic, it is devotional. It is, in fact, very hard 
to sustain that elevated mood which draws spiritual good from listening to 
others singing. The thing can be done, but it cannot be done for long, it 
cannot be done constantly. We are always tempted to shrink from wor- 
shippers into critics. No one can worship if he is criticising. This is as 
impossible as it is for a river to flow backwards and forwards at the same 
time. Even if we do not criticise, we are apt, in listening to a choir, to think 
that its object is to give us pleasure. But the sound of voices all around 
us, uttering the same words and sounds as ourselves, moves us by a force 
of sympathy which is well-nigh irresistible, and incites us most powerfully 
to worship." 

He quotes at length from the pages of the New Englander 
(New Haven, 1849), trom which I cull the following sentences : 

"The meeting together for united acts of devotion is an acknowledg- 
ment of a common nature, of common relations to God, of common wants, 
and of a common destiny. Now whatever shall, at this time, call the mind 
off from the great truths which encompass all alike, and fix attention on 
what is circumstantial and characteristic of individuals only, is at war with 
the very soul of worship, and, as far as it prevails, defeats its highest end 
. . . not negatively merely, but occasioning a positive distraction and con- 
stituting a virtual prohibition of all hearty and united praise." 

From what Dr. G. F. Root, of Chicago, has written on the 
subject the following is quite apt to the special point I am 
making : 

"Do you say, 'Our choir sometimes sing with so much pathos as to 
bring tears to the eyes ? ; That may be of the sensibilities only, very near 
the surface. A novel or play will do as much. Were an angel to sing us a 
song of heaven, it would be only a passing enjoyment, unless it caused us 
to do something for ourselves. Do you further say, ' I can't sing/ or, as 
some one has said, ' I can't sing fit to be heard ? ' I reply, you do not sing 
to be heard. That's just the point. You sing for your own benefit. I 
you are a sincere worshipper, your voice will be reverent, and, in the pre- 
ponderance of correct tones, your imperfections of time or tune will pro- 
bably not be observed. But supposing they should be, you are not in a con- 
cert-room, where entertainment is the main thing. You are where people 
are bound to offer praise and worship to the Lord. And you come just as 
you are, and give him the best you have.'* 

I have now a plea to present in favor of congregational sing- 
ing which I am -sure will appeal most forcibly to the mind of 
every preacher. Who has not/k 1 // the increase of his own spiri- 
tual proximity to the people and the degree of their receptivity 
when he rises in the pulpit after the singing of the Veni Creator, 
though by the choir only, if by the custom of the church all the 
people knelt devoutly during that invocation of the Holy Spirit, 



1 68 WILL CONGREGATIONAL SINGING [May, 

and thus were in some measure drawn into a closer common 
bond of fellowship with God, and were moved to humble accept- 
ance of himself as the accredited messenger of the divine word? 
It seems to me every preacher will at once seize the point I 
desire to make, and realize the deep importance of it in reference 
to the unquestionable advantages that would result if before his 
sermon the whole congregation could rise upon their feet, or 
kneeling sing together the Veni Creator , or a hymn pertinent to 
the subject he is about to discourse upon. I find this considera- 
tion remarkably well put by a Rev. A. J. Gordon, D.D., as 
quoted by Mr. Curwen. He says : 

" We urge hearty, united congregational singing as a means of raising 
the aggregate devotion of the Christian assembly to its highest point. It 
is not without purpose that Providence has set Christians in companies 
for worship, instead of leaving them to render it privately or individually. 
Men, like coals, kindle best in the mass. Each serves as a radiator to 
throw heat upon his neighbor, and so the zeal of the whole is quickly 
raised. . . . Now singing is a means of spiritual radiation. Truth and 
love and fervor are easily contagious where singing is the medium of in- 
tercourse. As the people sing to each other in psalms and hymns there 
is a rapid circulation of the currents of devotion. The pulse of song beats 
quick and full, and the glow of worship is easily attained. One has little 
idea who has not experienced it of the help which it gives to the preacher 
to have a high average of fervor in the congregation. If only a few are 
kindled in the service of God's house, their warmth is absorbed and be- 
comes latent in the inert mass about them. But if the majority are 
stirred so that the general level of feeling is high, a preacher with any 
sensibility can feel the fact the moment he comes into contact with them. 
We must recognize the value of communion in all worship. No man can 
be an independent unit here. What he brings to church with him of in- 
terest, of desire, of earnestness, he brings to put into the common fund, 
and the best circulating medium of worship is singing. Hence I appeal to 
your sense of fairness. If you, the people, expect the preacher to stir you 
to duty by his sermons, ought you not to put yourselves in the best possible 
condition to be stirred? The preacher cannot furnish both incitement 
and susceptibility. If any fact has been made clear to me in my pastoral 
experience it is this: that the people that enter heartily and enthusiasti- 
cally into the worship as earnest participants by uniting in the singing 
can be inspired with interest and moved to duty with half the labor which 
would otherwise be required. What preacher cannot feel the difference 
in the touch of a congregation that has risen just before the sermon and 
poured itself out in an inspiring and hearty hymn of praise from that of a 
religious audience that has been quietly sitting and listening to a musical 
performance ? There is a kind of spiritual elasticity in the former case 
which gives the preacher's words back to him in a responsive echo, while 
in the latter it is like the dull thud of a stone let fall into a stagnant 
pool.'' 

One might go on and quote largely to the same effect from 



.] PROFIT FAITH AND MORALS? 169 

both Catholic and Protestant sources, and it is a noteworthy fact 
that it is difficult to find any arguments alleged against the 
superiority of congregational singing to all other methods, sav- 
ing a few adverse criticisms based entirely upon an artistic cri- 
terion, requiring, according to the view of these writers, a stand- 
ard of musical culture which, in point of fact, is not attainable 
for even the limited number who compose the church choir ex- 
cept in very few wealthy congregations. Time and again one is 
compelled to hear " singing by the choir," in many of our 
churches, of the most ludicrous character, and as well both con- 
temptible and offensive because the horrible medley of inhar- 
monious sounds is evidently a work of the performers in which 
the vanity of personal display is so painfully conspicuous. This 
irreligious and spiritually profitless motive is the bane of all so- 
called church choirs. The unhappy organist is for ever trying 
to steer clear of a Scylla of petty rivalries and animosities only 
to fall into a Charybdis of open revolt and rebellion. Miss A. 
is jealous of the praise she hears bestowed upon Miss B., and 
Miss C. sulks and won't sing at all because her solo has been 
given to Miss D. A writer in a recent New York journal, com- 
paring " mixed ' choirs with " boy " choirs to the advantage of 
the latter, makes some amusing observations: 

" In the first place, the change to boy choir eliminates the danger of 
jealousy and scandal ; there are no flirtations to take up the time and at- 
tention of the singers. The hymns are not interlined with * asides ' con- 
cerning Mrs. Jones' new bonnet or the cut of Mrs. Brown's new dress. It 
is notorious that for bitter feuds you must look to a church choir. The 
young man who, wishing to break up the intimacy between two ladies, in- 
duced them to join the same choir knew what he was about. There seems 
to be something about the atmosphere of an organ-loft which leads to 
strife, etc., etc." 

Do these people ever reflect that they are there to sing to 
the praise and glory of God? I will not deny that many do. 
But who does not know how many sing to their own praise and 
glory ? Singers of this sort are keenly alive to the impression 
they make. More than once I have heard the remark from such 
singers, who failed to perceive that their singing attracted any 
marked attention from the listening audience, that in his or her 
opinion " those people were not worth singing to." 

" Singing to " .any one but God is not likely to be a motive 
where congregational singing prevails, and that all the singing 
will then, in fact, be done to him alone is an argument in its favor 
which it is impossible to overthrow or set aside. Those who 
seek that only worthy end (and who is there that will confess to 
seeking any other?) will not only advocate it, but will be sure to 



170 WILL CONGREGATIONAL SINGING [May, 

prefer it even if from an artistic point of view the singing is not 
of a high order. Those who sing for personal display and those 
who listen for their own sensual delectation are the only ones 
who would think of opposing it or find it distasteful. A few 
minutes' conversation with any one in order to draw out his 
opinion and reasons of preference will very soon show the truth 
of this. Shirking all responsibility about it as being a matter of 
little consequence is not uncommon, but then you will generally 
find that your interlocutor frankly owns to not knowing one 
note of music from another ; or he will close all amicable discus- 
sion of the subject by telling you that all musicians are cranks, 
and proverbially belong to the genus irritabile. 

But I think it has been plainly shown that this is not a mere 
artistic question, to be left wholly to one's musical taste upon 
which to form a reliable judgment of the comparative merit of 
congregational singing, or make a decision whether the adoption 
of it should be encouraged or even discussed. The argument, 
Mr. Curwen says, is, in his opinion, one of devotion. I would 
say that it is one of intelligent devotion. It is a matter of faith 
as well as of piety. It is a question of God getting what, with- 
out it, he most certainly fails to get the praise of his own chil- 
dren united in the divine communion of the church with his own 
beloved Son, their Redeemer. It is a question whether the 
chief purpose for which the Divine Wisdom has instituted a pub- 
lic, common assembly of the faithful for worship shall be fulfill- 
ed or well-nigh frustrated. The voice must give utterance to 
the convictions of faith and the sentiments of love, or all the 
good will in the world will fail to deepen the one or inflame 
the other. Human nature demands that this utterance shall be 
made in tones that stir the inmost spirit to enthusiasm and 
awake all the fervor of which the heart is capable. This means 
singing ; and, as the occasion is one of a common assembly, it 
means a common, united song of the assembly, pouring forth in 
accents loud and sweet the hymn of praise and psalm of love 
divine. 

I cannot refrain from presenting and urging the claim this 
common song of intelligent, devout hearts and minds has as the 
strongest aid to faith and surest antidote to the insidious spirit 
of unbelief and sensual indulgence so urgently called for in our 
day. I am deeply convinced that nothing can compare with 
congregational singing as an effective agency in this respect- 
not a gorgeous ceremonial, nor sublime discourses by great 
orators; not the building of imposing and beautifully adorned 
churches, nor the frequent repetition in them of services liturgi- 



1889.] PROFIT FAITH AND MORALS? 171 

cal and non-liturgical. All these have their place and do their 
own work for the glory of God and the conversion and sanctifi- 
cation of souls ; but a congregation of people assembled in 
church, who are there as only silent worshippers and as such 
will infallibly be chiefly so as hearers and observers and not 
doers are to me like a family gathered about a fireless hearth. 
They are all there. Oh, yes ! And they sit and think and wish 
well to one another. No doubt. But where is the cheery flame, 
the sparkling firelight dancing up the chimney, throwing out its 
ruddy beams to put a glow upon all faces and spread a genial 
warmth around, to be a focus of enlivening rays in which the 
company of the loved and the loving are encircled and bound in 
one? Alas! no wonder they are all silent, each one moodily 
nursing his own thoughts. But now light up the fire ; throw 
on the logs and make a' big blaze. Behold the marvellous 
change ! Congregati sunt in unum ! Oh ! most surely this bless- 
ed and happy union of hearts and minds is one which, if secured, 
is so strong, so attractive, so mutually delightful and encour- 
aging that, to say the least, it is a bond from which it is hard 
to break away, and against whose unitive power of love temp- 
tations to desert the charmed circle have but little force. 

But I must change my metaphor to illustrate better the 
special point I wish to insist upon. You, my brother-priests, 
have many fair and goodly trees under your care as husbandmen 
in the garden of the Lord. The fruit appears in the aggregate 
to be plentiful, but you know and lament with me that despite 
your unceasing labors many a tree shows signs of weakness and 
threatens to wilt and die. You sigh to see so much fruit fall to 
the ground rotten or unripe. Many young saplings from which 
the fruit-garden of the Lord should be renewed in numbers of 
healthy trees you do indeed save, but alas ! how many are 
stunted and will surely come to nothing! What is the matter? 
You prune and water and dig about them day and night and 
of a truth the world can show no such laborers as you for hard 
and faithful work but too many trees are dying, and too much 
fruit fails of coming to maturity. How is the garden of the 
Lord to be restored, as it must be and surely will be? From 
whence comes the blight under which succumbs so much that is 
carefully nourished? 

Permit a Crank who has been down on his hands and knees 
and groping about the roots of the trees to speak a word. If 
he has not so much knowledge as you in the science of pruning 
and watering and digging, he at least knows a canker-worm 
when he sees one. Such a worm this Crank sees is fast girdling 



172 CONGREGATIONAL SINGING. [May, 

the trees ; and it will soon cut off all the avenues by which the 
healthy, life-giving and fruit-producing sap may rise to the heart 
and branches of the trees unless some measures are taken to 
arrest its ravages. " Shall he who planted the tree not eat of 
the fruit thereof?'' Yet God, who planted the Christian tree, is 
surely not getting the fruit thereof as abundantly as one might 
expect from the untiring and watchful care of his husbandmen. 
That fruit is and can be none other but faith and hope in and 
love of the divine. In vain is the growth of all other fruit, be it 
never so fair to the eyes and seemingly good to eat. To many 
a wiser man than the Crank it has long been seen with no little 
alarm and sorrow that popular indifference to the production of 
that fruit is on the increase, especially among those over whom 
the church has lost influence, and no less a popular ignorance 
that God expects any such fruit at all. Meanwhile, the canker- 
worms of human self-conceit and self-love are busy at work 
down at the roots of all our fair and goodly trees. No wonder 
so much of the fruit shows the rot of unbelief, worldliness, and 
sensuality. Some of you may have heard of that trenchant little 
French brochure against infidelity entitled Salve for the Bite of 
% the Black Serpent. The author, I believe, received many votes 
in his favor as a Crank. Lo ! another Crank has also a Salve to 
sell, warranted to destroy the " canker-worm ' at first touch, 
but of marvellous virtue for the healing of all wounded and fail- 
ing trees, and which will powerfully aid in the production of a 
full, healthful flow of life-giving sap. That Salve is the Singing 
of the Divine Praises. My metaphor is fully justified as apt and 
not " mixed," as a glance at the word " Trees" in your Biblical 
concordance will show. The great prophet of the Christ could 
write: " The mountains and the hills shall sing praise before you 
and all the trees of the country shall clap their hands." And the 
royal Psalmist not only calls upon the " fruitful trees and all 
cedars to praise the Lord," but he finds as well a voice attuned 
to song in every creature, animate and inanimate, and does not 
hesitate to summon them all to unite together as in a mighty con- 
gregation of nature and pour forth unto the Lord a joyful 
psalm of never-ending praise. If in the question of congrega- 
tional singing one would wish to get at what "seemeth good to 
the Holy Ghost," the best and most conclusive of all arguments, 
let him peruse the inspired songs of the Singer of Israel of old, 
whose accents of divine praise the Catholic Church, the New 
Israel, finds none better to make her own. 

ALFRED YOUNG. 






.] A GLORIA. 173 



A GLORIA. 

A VARIED and beautiful landscape, an Italian landscape, with 
a dry torrent-bed curving whitely through the green plain, and 
a mountain-wall built along the north and east, was shining in 
the afternoon sun of a September day. 

Here and there from the great procession of mountains some 
lesser height pushed itself out into the plain with an old castle, 
or rocca, on its gray summit, and a rolling smoke of olives, or the 
fretted green of vineyards, or a small walled city climbing its 
lower steps. 

Seen from a distance, the mountain seemed to have taken the 
sunny little town onto its knee. 

One of these cities looked southward and had the full sunrise 
and sunset, it was so far advanced into the plain, and there was 
not a dark street nor a sour, damp alley within the walls. Out- 
side the walls bright little casine, all white and pink and gold- 
colored, were scattered among the vigne and the laurels and the 
ivy. 

A lady and gentleman issued from the gate of one of these 
villas and sauntered slowly up the tree-shaded avenue leading to 
the town. They were two artists, old friends, who had met in 
this city partly by arrangement, partly by chance, and were get- 
ting sketches here, the lady for charming bits of color, each of 
which should have a story to tell ; the gentleman for some form 
of modern plastic life that would refresh his mind after a long 
study of the antique. 

He was idealistic, discontented, and somewhat sceptical ; she 
was religious and full of enthusiasm. They called each other 
Elizabeth and Alexander, and were happy together in that most 
ideally delightful of friendships, where no jealousy intrudes to 
embitter it the friendship of artists. Next to a purely spiritual 
and religious sympathy, such as that of St. Francis of Assisi and 
St. Clara, or St. Francis of Sales and Jane Frances Chantal, there 
is no earthly association so exquisite as that of two artists enthu- 
siastically devoted to their art. Nor can the religious element 
be entirely wanting if they are true artists. It is impossible that 
man or woman should strive with all their hearts to embody 
noble ideas in beautiful forms without having, sooner or later, 
some consciousness of a supreme source from which all beauty is 
derived. 



174 A GLORIA. [May, 

The lady wore a black lace veil on her head, and carried a 
gold-lined parasol in one hand and a pomegranate in the other. 
She looked up to the town, and let her glance sweep to right 
and left of it over the crowded heights. 

" How peaceful it all looks ! " she said. " There is such a 
suggestion of trustfulness on the one side and protection on the 
other in one of these small cities snuggled up to a mountain- 
side." 

The gentleman had been looking straight ahead, his large 
blue eyes having the expression of one who sees only his own 
thought. He took off his hat, ran his slender fingers through 
the mass of blonde ringlets that covered his head, and glanced 
upward somewhat unwillingly. He had wished to prolong a 
discussion which his companion was setting aside. 

" Liberty ! Liberty ! ' he said. " That is what the mountains 
always suggest to me. They rise into the pure air far above the 
lower earth, they stretch themselves out, and nothing can break 
them down." 

" Your description would serve equally well for tyranny," the 
lady said with a slight smile. " But perhaps that is your idea- 
it is the popular idea of liberty, a glorious freedom to say and 
do whatever you like, regardless of the natural consequence that 
you will thereby prevent others from doing what they would 
like to do." 

" ' O Liberty, what crimes are committed in thy name ! f she 
added after a moment, her companion not having recovered from 
her dampening remarks. 

He still remained silent. 

She looked at him with a smile, gave him her parasol to hold, 
and went to a flat stone beside the road to crack the pomegranate 
she had brought from the villa. 

The gentleman watched her somewhat dreamily, wondering 
how he could put that easy stooping posture into clay without 
losing the grace of it. " Stay as you are a minute ! ' he ex- 
claimed. " Let me see how you have got the other arm. I 
never saw so much swing in a stoop." 

" I shall soon swing over onto the ground if you don't let 
me up," she said laughingly. " I am a top. My right toe just 
touches the ground. I rest on my left foot. My left arm and 
knee make an X." 

He took the half pomegranate she gave him, and sucked the 
mild, fresh juice as they walked on, catching a leaf-stem from a 
tree in passing to pry out ruby bunches of the glowing seed- 



1889.] A GLORIA. 175 

grains. " Pomegranates are more for the eye than the taste,'' 
he said. " But I like to eat them." 

" This is for something more than the eye," she said lightly. 
' See ! " holding up her half of the fruit, " I am going to use it 
as a text. Remember whom I follow. Christ said : ' Consider 
the lilies of the field.' Solomon said : ' Go to the ant, thou slug- 
gard. Consider her ways, and be wise ! ' I say, then, Consider 
the pomegranate, my friend." 

A man was passing with a donkey laden with straw that is, 
a huge mass of straw was moving up the road before him with 
four little hoofs tick-tacking underneath it. The lady caught 
one of these straws and began to push up carefully the grains of 
the pomegranate and separate without breaking them. 

" How pretty the yellow straw looks against the ruby pulp ! ' 
she said. " But that isn't the lesson I wish you to consider." 

" Elizabeth," said the gentleman, gazing after the man and 
the donkey, " behold one little quadruped which cannot be 
beaten. He couldn't feel a blow. He is packed all round a 
yard deep with straw." 

At that moment the man before him uttered a stinging 
* Ah-h-i-i ! " and, inserting the stick he carried into a hole in the 
straw where a donkey's tail might be discovered in dim per- 
spective, used it with such effect as to notably accelerate the 
tick-tacking. 

" I give it up ! " sighed the sculptor. " And now for your 
sermon." 

i 

She held the pomegranate toward him, pushing the grains 
about with her straw. " Look at the shapes of the grains. I 
don't suppose that any two are alike. Some have three, others 
four, five, or six sides. Some are faceted like a brilliant-cut 
gem. All are angular. Yet if left quite free they would natur- 
ally have followed the shape of the seed, and been very nearly 
oval. But there were a good many white, strong seeds in this 
little walled city of a pomegranate-shell, and no space to throw 
away between curved lines. Perhaps, too, the life of each was 
vivified yet more by contact and pressure. So each oval has 
given a tiny space here and taken a tiny space there, adjusting 
its tender skin and soft pulp to circumstances, submitting to 
have angles instead of curves for the sake of living harmoniously 
with its fellows. But the pressure is only an outward one. The 
seeds are all perfect and untouched. That is my lesson from 
the pomegranate. Social liberty, to be just, means the having a 
good many little snips taken out of what we would like to do." 



176 A GLORIA. [May, 

She began to eat her text as they walked on. Her com- 
panion smiled, but said nothing. 

" 1 am two years older than you, Alexander mio ! " she said, 
tossing away the empty pomegranate-shell. " Study over my 
lesson till you reach my present age of thirty-one, then tell me 
your conclusion. I used to have that bull-in-a-china-shop idea of 
liberty, but I have given it up." 

They reached the city gate, and entered a sunny, empty 
piazza, all grass-grown, before a church. The only person visible 
was a woman seated outside the door of a rough stone house. 
At her elbow was a table with a flask of white wine, a dozen or 
two of walnuts, a few apples, and a loaf of bread. It was her 
shop, and while waiting for customers she was knitting a beau- 
tiful long stocking of pure crude silk of a pale, gleaming gold- 
color as it came from the cocoon. She was a famous knitter, 
and these stockings were for the bishop, whose mother would 
color them a rich Tyrian purple by a process which she kept 
secret. 

As the two artists entered the gate a confused sound of 
childish voices reached them from a street leading into the 
piazza, and a little boy came running toward them, pursued by 
half a dozen others. He turned his head from time to time to 
fling back at his pursuers an inarticulate babble of defiance or 
expostulation, but without stopping ; and when he reached the 
two strangers he caught the lady's arm and hid his face in her 
dress, trembling as he clung. 

"Shame on you, you bad boys!' cried Elizabeth, suffering 
the child to cling to her while she poured out reproaches on his 
tormentors. 

" We weren't going to hurt him, signora," said one of them. 

" Isn't it hurting him to frighten him so? ' she demanded. 

" He keeps following us, and we don't want him," said an- 
other. " He can't play nor do anything, and he gets in the way. 
He's a deaf-mute." 

" I wonder if any idea of compassion ever enters the heart of 
a child, unless it is put there by some older person? " said the 
lady to her friend. "It is such nonsense to call children angelic ! 
They are oftener egotistical little fiends ! ' 

" Plan piano ! ' said the sculptor, smiling at her impetuosity. 

She turned to the children. " You drive this poor little boy 
away from you because he is unfortunate," she said. "Well, 
wait till it comes your turn to be driven away by the holy an- 
gels. What should they want of such company as yours, you 



.] A GLORIA. 177 

ignorant, cruel little ' she paused in search of a word which 
should strike terror into them " little Protestants?' 

" We an't Protestants ! ' came in an indignant chorus from 
the boys. 

Elizabeth lifted the child's head from her arm and spoke to 
him soothingly. He had a pretty, intelligent face, but terror 
seemed to have been impressed upon it as a habit. Shut in from 
all the soothing and joyous sounds of nature by that awful si- 
lence of the deaf, knowing nothing of danger till it fell upon him, 
orphaned, and missing the kind and reassuring word which 
sometimes atones for an indifferent expression of countenance, 
worse than all, shunned or derided by almost every child he 
met, his life might well have been to him an evil dream. 

He looked about when the lady lifted his face, saw that his 
pursuers had gone away and where he was. A light sprang 
into his face, and he turned quickly in the direction of the knit- 
ting-woman. 

" Maria ! ' he called out distinctly, and, breaking from his 
protectress, ran toward her. But when half-way across the 
piazza he stopped as suddenly as he had started, and began to 
cry, looking helplessly from one woman to the other. 

The woman with the knitting called out: " Come here, Pio! ' 

He went slowly forward, but looked back. The two artists 
followed him a'nd explained what had happened. 

The woman had risen with instinctive politeness at their ap- 
proach, and they saw that she supported herself on a crutch and 
begged her to sit down again. 

" The children always tease him," she said ; "and I can't keep 
him away from them. You see, I have but one foot. The other 
was crushed by a cart-wheel, and I had to have it cut off. Then 
there is no one here but mother and I, and mother is very old 
and half- blind. My husband died long ago, and I have no chil- 
dren." 

" The boy is not yours, then ? ' said Elizabeth. 

" No, signora ; his mother died last month. They had a 
room here. Nobody knows where his father is. He went away 
before Pio was born." 

" Who takes care of the child ? " 

" He lives with me, signora. We hope to get him into a 
deaf-and-dumb asylum. But he is too young now. He is only 
six years old. Besides, the asylum is very poor. Pazienza ! ' 
She sighed and smiled. " He is welcome to the little that I can 
do for him. But I can't keep him off the street." 
VOL. XLIX. 12 



178 A GLORIA. [May, 

Elizabeth looked at the child with a troubled face. " He is 
deaf," she said, " but he is not dumb. He called out * Maria ' 
quite plainly." 

" It is the only word that he can speak, signora. It was his 
mother's name. How he got it into his mind I do not know. I 
suppose the Madonna put it there." 

" It must be that he was not always deaf," the sculptor said. 
"Probably before he was able to speak, but while he could 
hear, the name of his mother became familiar to him, so that it 
broke out involuntarily afterward when he had need of such help 
as she would have given him." 

He stopped, disconcerted by a swift, frowning glance from his 
artist-friend. The cripple was looking at him in a puzzled way. 

" Yes, sir," she said politely when he paused. 

"Maria had begun to teach him something," she said, address- 
ing the lady. 

She called the child to her, and taking a rosary that hung on 
the back of her chair, showed him the crucifix. 

He looked at it a moment, then blessed himself, making a lit- 
tle moan where each sacred name should be. 

Then she reached down a small picture of the Madonna from 
the wall and held it before him. 

" Maria ! ' he said. And then he touched the Divine Mother 
and pointed up to the sky, and touched the Divine Infant and 
again pointed up to the sky. 

But the lesson had sharpened again his dulled sorrow for his 
lost mother. 

" Maria ! Maria ! ' he cried, with a wild, searching glance 
around the piazza. 

Elizabeth took him into her arms and he clung to her. She 
took his face in one hand, and with the other pointed up to the 
sky. 

He glanced upward weeping, then looked at the picture. 
Oh! how could she teach him that she meant his mother, too? 
She caught him to her breast, pressed him close and kissed him ; 
then putting him back, pointed upward. 

He looked at her with wide, startled eyes, then stretched his 
arms upward and broke out with a sobbing " Maria ! Maria ! ' 

He understood ! Not only the pictured Madonna was there, 
but the only one who had ever loved him was there too. 

The lady and gentleman pursued their way. 

"What did I say that was wrong? " asked the sculptor. 

" You did not even know ! " she said. " Cannot you under- 



1889] A GLOXZA. 179 

stand that the rosary hanging on the back of the chair and the 
little crucifix and Madonna on the wall are emblems of all which 
interposes itself between these poor creatures and despair? You 
would not let her think that the Madonna had a care over that 
unhappy child. It seems to you a folly. Can you believe that 
their heavenly Father did not provide that consolation for them 
when every other hope fails?' 

" I did not mean to take the hope away, Elizabeth," the 
sculptor said seriously. " You know I have the habit of speak- 
ing from the scientific basis ; but I am scarcely the materialist 
you think me. All the patience in poverty and sorrow that I 
have seen here in Italy, all the self-respect which seems to flow 
from the very respect which they show to those of superior posi- 
tion, and their sure looking forward to heaven have not been 
thrown away on me. I do not quite believe, yet I do not disbe- 
lieve. There must be somewhere a great fountain of sweetness 
that they can draw upon." 

" Oh, Alexander!" 

" I know," he went on, " that science frequently does no more 
than call things by another name when it seems to explain, and 
leaves the mystery unsolved ; and that, as you say, when we 
shall have gone round the whole circle of the sciences, and tried 
them in the alembic to find what supreme result they were to 
give us, it may be that the most precious jewel of all will be that 
simple faith and chanty which childlike souls knew from the 
first. But have a little patience with me." 

" I will never lecture you again," she said. 

The cripple counted over the money they had given her, and 
smilingly put it into a little silk purse she carried hidden in her 
corsets. The boy wandered about the piazza with a disconsolate 
air, then went and sat down on the church steps. 

The bells of the church were ringing for the death of an 
infant. It was the custom there, on the death of a child under 
seven years of age that is, incapable of having committed mor- 
tal sin to ring the bells, not a morto, for the dead, but a gloria^ 
for a pure soul entering heaven. 

There were four small, silver-toned bells in this church, and 
they were ringing joyfully. The child sat thinking. He re- 
membered that once when his mother was with him a little girl 
had been carried past to the church. She was asleep, all dressed 
in white and covered with flowers. His mother had pointed at 
her, then to the sky. The lady to-da} r had told him that his 
mother had gone there. Then it must be that the little flower- 



i8o A GLORIA. [May, 

crowned girl had gone there. He used to see her before that 
day, but he never saw her again. How did people get there? 

He looked upward. To his mind the skies were a great, blue- 
walled house, and the moon and stars were the lights that shone 
out at night, as he had seen lights shining by night from the 
campagna. 

How did people get there? 

He looked at the mountains rising against the blue, and 
stretching out like a gigantic highway. It must be by way of 
the mountains. 

He sat and studied over the matter while the gloria rang out 
above him. He thought of it till he went to sleep, and it was 
his first thought in the morning. 

As soon as he had eaten his piece of bread and drunk a cup 
<of goat's milk in the morning he set out. He had no sense of 
vwrong-doing. He could ask no permission and hear no denial. 
jHis protectress allowed him to go where he pleased, sure that 
ihe would come back when he was hungry or sleepy. 

His road led him first under the city wall. It was a quiet 
* road, and the wall was set with flowering caper-vines. The 
child stopped and looked up, wishing that he could reach one of 
ithe lovely purple-and-white blossoms. 

Suddenly he felt himself caught by the shoulder and set 
roughly aside. A diligence with four horses had been drawn 
*up suddenly close behind him as he stood in the middle of the 
troad, hearing nothing. 

The driver mounted to his seat again, shook his fist at the 

i frightened child, and drove on. Pio stood trembling till the 

diligence was out of sight, then pursued his way. But reaching 

a turn of the road, he started back and hid himself behind a 

bush. 

Just beyond the turn there was a shrine of the Madonna set 
in the high wall of a vigna, and some of the boys who had driven 
him from them the day before were cleaning and decorating it 
for afesta the next day. The pastor of the nearest church had 
entrusted them with the work and given them the key of the 
glass door before the picture. It stood open now, and one of the 
boys, mounted on a short ladder, was dusting the inside of the 
shrine. Another was sweeping the ground before it. Another 
was washing a pair of little vases at a near fountain. A fourth 
was pouring oil and water into a rose-colored glass cup, and 
arranging the 'floating wick ; and a fifth was tying up flowers 
from a basketful .brought down from the town. Ail their faces 



1889.] A GLORIA. 181 

were full of serious, earnest pride in their task. They were 
silent, or spoke but a few words in low tones. 

In a few minutes the vases were filled with flowers, and the 
lamp lit and in its place, where it shone with a soft, glow-worm 
lustre. 

The boys stood back to take in the effect before locking the 
door. It seemed to them very beautiful. Then they knelt 
down on the grass and said an Our Father and three Hail Marys, 
as the parish priest had bidden them. 

Little deaf-and-dumb Pio watched them from his hiding- 
place. To him they seemed most wonderful and happy boys. 
What the matter was with himself that they would not have him 
with them he did not know. He watched them with fixed and 
melancholy eyes, feeling as alien from their free and happy 
childhood as if he had been some little wild beast hidden there 
in the bush, yet with such a sick longing for their society as 
only a human heart could feel. 

When they had gone away he came out of his hiding-place 
and went and knelt on the grass as they had done. He blessed 
himself and said " Maria ! " and at that word he cried again, just 
one little sob between his absorbing terror of the boys and his 
instantaneous recollection of what he was about to do. It came 
up like a hidden brook that bubbles up above the ground at 
some chance opening and sinks out of sight again in a moment. 
But both the brook and his sorrow were stirring all the same, 
though silent and out of sight. 

Pio went on his way. The road he had taken led round un- 
der the walls, and was but little frequented. It made a slight 
rise, then turned and plunged down into the luxuriant campagna 
as into a bath. From this turn a rocky path led upward, cling- 
ing still to the walls. The laborers from above had already 
gone down, and the child met no one. If any one were going 
up the mountain at that hour he would take a better path from 
the town, which Pio did not know. 

Presently the rocks ceased. Some of them retained blood- 
marks from the little bare feet that had gone over them. Soft, 
dry turf and mossy ledge replaced them. And here the moun- 
tain air began to do its work on the traveller. It was as though 
some thick cloud which had enveloped him felt the sun shining 
through its folds. An electric, flitting breeze touched him light- 
ly. Birds flew by. He saw their fluttering wings and open 
beaks and felt the song he could not hear. The melancholy and 
terror of his face gave place to a wondering half-smile. Some 



1 82 A GLORIA. [May, 

perception of that heaven which he had never heard of stole 
over his mind. 

The path he followed, lightly traced, made a curve around 
the mountain just before reaching its summit. The child hesi- 
tated, looking upward. A loftier peak was visible over the lit- 
tle hamlet and ruined castle above him. No ; the entrance he 
was in search of could not be there. 

He followed the curve, and entered on a lofty isthmus that 
stretched out to the side of a gigantic mass, two twin heights 
thrust together in primeval days and cooled into many a dimple 
and hollow far up in the sky. This was a mountain with a name, 
famous in that region, and often visited by tourists. There was 
a flag-staff on the highest point of the broad summit, and a tiny, 
yellow-washed cabin under it. This yellow object, rounded at 
the top, shone like a golden portal in the sunlight. 

At last! There it was ! At last! For the child was tired 
and hungry. He had left the town at seven o'clock in the 
morning, and it was now afternoon. 

From the lofty neck of land where he stood, a solitary creep- 
ing mite in all that vastity, the mountains crowded thickly at 
one side, and ran and faded off, ever smaller and ever more 
faintly colored, till they melted into a dim, silvery horizon before 
him ; and at the other hand the plain, with its scattered dwel- 
lings, its rich green, and its silvery torrent-bed, stretched and 
faded in its turn till the flashing band of the sea was interposed 
between it and the sky. 

And here the little traveller came upon a treasure. 
A company of tourists had come up the night before to see 
the sun rise on the neighboring height, and on their return had 
left the remains of their breakfast securely tied up in a coarse 
napkin for any poor wight whom chance might send that way. 
The boy ate and was refreshed. Then he went on with the re- 
mains of the luncheon in his hand. 

The way grew more weary and more beautiful every mo- 
ment. There were no rocks on this strange, heavenly mountain, 
but its summit seemed ever to recede as he toiled on. The sun 
sank in a flood of golden light that turned rosy, and the stars 
began to come out. Pio's weary feet sank deep in soft, fine 
grass, as in a cushion. He cried lowly with fatigue as he went 
on. The shades of night came down, and in the pure, transparent 
darkness the little traveller reached the cabin and the flag-staff. 
He was too much exhausted to feel the disappointment which 
confronted him. His head was drooping toward his shoulder 



1889.] A GLORIA. 183 

when he reached the open cabin door ; and even as he sank onto 
the heap of dried grass inside deep sleep fell upon him. 

Only a weary child could have so long and deep a slumber. 
At midnight he turned on his fragrant bed, sighed, and became 
motionless again. He did not see the east grow white and the 
purple shadows of night mass themselves into a wall a*s they 
crowded down the west. He did not see the east grow golden, 
and peak after peak and the sea catch fire from it. 

It was a sense of joy all about that wakened him. He sat up, 
rubbed his eyes, and murmured his one word, " Maria ! ' Then 
he blessed himself and went out, recollecting where he was. 

The sun was just blazing on the horizon, its palpitating orb 
scarcely detached from the serrated line. All the world shone. 
The mountain-top was shaped like a wide, immemorial crater, its 
dimples and hollows waving with fine, thread-like grass a yard 
high and brilliant with flowers. Out of this exquisite verdure 
and color, tossing into the air on every hand, sprang the larks in 
an ecstasy of song. They rose from the flowery earth, hung on 
their fluttering wings, and poured out a liquid gush of music ; 
tossed themselves higher, hung and sung again, another toss and 
another roundelay, and so upward till the wings grew weary. 

The child laughed to see them, and felt their joy beating 
against the impassible silence that shut him in. He ate the rest 
of his food, then looked about him, a new thought dawning on 
his mind. The portal that he sought to that great palace where 
the pictured Mother and Child, and his own mother, and the 
little girl with her white dress and her flowers dwelt could not 
be here. The peaks were no longer against the sky. Besides, 
he reasoned, you do not enter first the upper rooms of a house. 
You go in below and climb the stairs. 

A momentary pang of disappointment came over him. It 
seemed an age since he had seen a human face. He knelt down 
in the flowery grass, with the larks singing around him, and 
blessed himself; and remembering the medal and crucifix that 
hung about his neck, he drew them out and kissed the faces on 
them. They were no more dumb to him than all other faces 
were. They comforted him, the dear, familiar faces, and drew 
him on to finish his quest. 

Just back of the mountain where he was two or three strange 
peaks rose almost like obelisks into the air, all gravel and stone 
from their sharp points down to their narrow bases, eaten away 
by torrents, and through a rift low down between these peaks 
was visible a dark stone arch through which a light shone. 



1 84 A GLORIA. [May, 

"Maria!' cried the child, starting up. Oh! it was near. 
His mother and the Mother with her Child were there ! There 
was the mountain to descend. No matter! He must cross the . 
torrent-beds, and his feet were sore. He would cross them ! 
He must pass those rocky peaks. He was not afraid ! He 
would call " Maria ! Maria ! ' all the way, and perhaps they 
would come out to meet him. 

He gathered a handful of the bright flowers for Maria's 
Child, and set out undoubting. 

Meantime, in the town below a great search had been made 
for the deaf-and-dumb boy. Some one had seen him go outside 
the gate, and some one else, whose house overlooked the city 
wall, had seen him in the road below. 

A search, carelessly begun, but growing ever more anxious, 
was made all about the campagna. Night came, and there was 
no word of news from the child. No one had seen him go up 
the mountain-path. 

The second day telegrams were sent about, and the hamlet 
above the town was searched. The boys whom he had watched 
at the shrine found their hearts, now that they could no longer 
be of any use to him, and searched minutely all day long. 

As the second night came on two items of information, which 
might mean something, reached the town. A gentleman in the 
campagna had seen the day before a small, dark object, which 
might have been a goat but that looked like a child, moving 
along the isthmus of land they called the loggia. And a conta- 
dino just down from the heights said that as he was working 
that morning on a bit of land made by the torrents he had heard 
what seemed to be a loosened stone roll down the mountain near 
him, and listening then, had seemed to hear some one close to 
him whisper, " Maria ! Maria! ' 

It had startled him so, not having believed any living soul to 
be within a mile of the place, that he had come away im- 
mediately. 

The artist friends had been among the first and most anxious 
searchers for the missing child, and when they heard this first 
note of hope the lady protested that she could not sleep till she 
knew more. 

" We can make our projected expedition to see the sun rise 
from the mountain and hear the larks for to-morrow morning," 
she said. " Can we have donkeys and four men ready to start 
at midnight?' she asked of their landlady. 

Yes, everything would be furnished them. 



1889.] A GLORIA. 185 

* 

Her plans were quickly laid. They would start at midnight, 
with four men. Two of these men would leave them at the base 
of the next mountain and make a circuit of it. It would then 
be early dawn. At the loggia, which they would reach just 
before sunrise, the other two men would start on the search, 
leaving them to go on by themselves. They would wait on the 
summit till the men should 'bring them news or nothing. 

Everything was prepared breakfast, with a little wine for the 
child, who might be faint, and a bandage and bottle of sal vola- 
tile slipped into the basket with trembling fingers. 

Quite a company gathered in their boarding-house when the 
project was known, and some of the visitors waited to see the 
little party set out. 

" You must watch the flag-staff on the mountain to-morrow," 
said Elizabeth to one of them as she settled herself on the 
wooden saddle of her donkey. " You can see it plainly with an 
opera-glass from the lower piazza. We will signal you the news, 
if we have any to give. If you see a red cloth, the child is alive. 
If you see a white one, go into the church down there and tell 
the sacristan to ring the bells a gloria." 

There was something magically solemn and sweet in that 
shadowy ride over the heights under a starry sky. The men 
swung their lanterns about in the dewy darkness, the donkeys 
picked their way with sure, strong feet, and not a word was 
uttered. 

When the air whitened toward dawn two of the men left 
them, and when they had crossed 'the loggia the other two 
tethered their animals and set out also to search. The two 
artists went forward on foot and were wading knee-deep across 
the thick, fine grass and brilliant flowers when the sun showed 
its first spark of fire above the horizon, and the larks began to 
sing. They seated themselves on a bank and gazed about them 
in silence. The sun came up. The scene was heavenly. 

Elizabeth got up and wandered about, listening and looking 
in every direction over their crater-like, flowery nest. She went 
into the hut, then came out and unpacked their basket, taking 
out two scarfs, a red and a white one. She laid them down 
and looked up at the flag-staff, tears dropping from her eyes. 
Then she went to the sculptor, who was gazing fixedly off at the sea. 

" Alexander," she said, " see what I have found ! ' 

It was a little blue cloth cap, a boy's cap, and like one they 
had seen Pio wear. <f Isn't it almost incredible that he should 
have been here? " 



1 86 A GLORIA. [May, 

"I have been thinking as we came along," the sculptor said, 
"that perhaps the child came up here searching for his mother. 
And that led me to thinking what pure love can do. Arid then 
I thought of your compassionateness ; and while I thought the 
sun rose before my face." 

"Only before your face, Alexander?" his friend asked gently. 

"I think it shone through me," he answered. "That sun 
seems to me the image of Christ." 

" And you do not think us bigoted and severe ? ' she asked. 
" You do not think us too touchy about our faith ? ' 

" How could you allow that which is holy to be insulted?' 
he said. 

" And our Blessed Lady?' she said tremulously. 

" No one can really believe in Christ and not reverence that 
tender, stainless being," he replied. " Don't fear for me, Eliza- 
beth ! ' He looked at her with a smile. " Our faith is the only 
solution of the problem of our existence." 

" Our faith ! ' she repeated with delight. " Ours / ' 

A sound behind her attracted her attention. She turned 
quickly. One of the men had come up unseen by her from the 
other side of the summit, and he was raising her white scarf on 
the flag-staff. She sank onto the bank and covered her face with 
her hands. "Oh! oh!" 

" He fell and struck his temple," the man said. " Poor little 
one! he is out of his troubles. They are bringing him up." 

The two artists followed him to the other side of the summit 
and saw the men coming up. They had made a litter of green 
branches, and the child's waxen face showed like a lily against 
them. 

They came slowly up the steep way, their hats in their hands, 
reciting prayers as they came. The man on the summit took 
his hat off and blessed himself. The sculptor, feeling himself but 
an ignbrant neophyte in their presence, followed their example. 

The lady retreated as they approached, and signed them to a 
little knoll in the midst of the summit. As they laid their burden 
down there, there was a faint, sweet sound of music in the air. 
Soft, silvery, and fitful, it came and went. 

Their signal had been seen down in the town, and from the 
church-tower in the grassy piazza at the city gate the bells were 
ringing a gloria for a child's soul entering heaven. 

Poor little Pio had found the palace gate, and he was deaf 
and dumb no longer. 

M. A. TINCKER. 



1889.] THE EUCALYPTUS CULTURE AT TRE FONTANE. 187 



THE EUCALYPTUS CULTURE AT TRE FONTANE.* 

OUTSIDE the walls of Rome, about two miles from the splen- 
did basilica of St. Paul, is the church and abbey of San Paolo 
alle Tre Fontane, built on the very spot where the great Apostle 
of the Gentiles was put to death under Nero. The land there 
belonged to the patrician family Salvia, and was known as Aqua 
Salvice, or Massa aquce Salvice, because of the abundance of its 
water, which, on account of improper drainage, made the place 
very unhealthy. The tradition is that there, on a block of marble 
still preserved in the church, St. Paul was beheaded; that three 
fountains sprang up where the head of the apostle bounded three 
times from the earth, pronouncing in Hebrew at each bound the 
name of Jesus. According to an epistle of St. Clement, Nero, in a 
spirit of revenge against the illustrious martyr for having con- 
verted one of his concubines to Christianity, chose to be present 
at the execution. The fountains, now comprised within the 
church, differ in the temperature ; the first is soft and almost tepid, 
the second is cool, and the third still colder. . A vault is shown 
near by in which St. Paul is said to have been imprisoned during 
the short time which preceded his execution. After the miracle 
above narrated the spot became known as Tres Fontes ad aquas 
Salvias, and from the earliest times the faithful have resorted 
there in a spirit of devotion, as they do in our day, to drink the 
waters and carry some away to their distant homes. The pres- 
ent church edifice was rebuilt in 1599 by Cardinal Peter Aldo- 
brandini after the designs of Giacomo della Porta. 

The Aquae Salvias became in the year 299 the scene of another 
great martyrdom, ordered by the emperors Diocletian and Max- 
imian. Ten thousand two hundred and three Christian sol- 
diers, headed by the military tribune Zeno, were selected, be- 
cause they would not deny Christ, from the ranks of the legions 
to which they belonged and condemned to work at building the 
baths of Diocletian. After the completion of these colossal edi- 
fices these Christian soldiers were taken, by order of Diocletian, 
in chains to the Aquae Salviae and there every one of them was 

* LJAbbaye des Trots Fontaines, par le Rev. Pere Dom Gabriel, Abb6 d 1 Aiguebelle (Lan- 
derneau, 1882). Culture de F Eucalyptus aux Trots Fontaines (pres Rome), par Auguste Vallte, 
ingtnietir agricole, membre de la socidtd des agriculteurs de France, etc. (Landerneau, 1882). 
L 'Eucalyptus a la Colonie Agricole des Trois Fontaines (pres Rome), par E. Meaurne, published 
in the Revue des Eaux et Forets (Landerneau, 1882). 



i88 THE EUCALYPTUS CULTURE AT TRE FONTANE. [May, 

butchered. Their precious remains were gathered together near 
a fountain, then called Gutta jugiter manans, and a church, which 
later got the name of Scala Cceli* was built over them and was 
dedicated to the Blessed Virgin. Near the main and sole altar 
twelve steps lead down to the catacombs of St. Zeno and his 
martyred companions. 

The head and body of the great apostle were buried in a field 
belonging to St. Lucina, the site of the present basilica of St. 
Paul without-the-walls, rebuilt in place of the splendid one de- 
stroyed by fire in 1823. 

That the basilica, as far back as 531, was in charge of the 
monks of St. Benedict seems to rest on sufficient historical au- 
thority. In 604 St. Gregory the Great gave to the basilica all 
the territory of the Tres Fontes ad aquas Salvias. In 626 Pope 
Honorius founded at the latter place a Benedictine monastery 
dedicated to the holy martyred monks Vincent and Anastasius. 
In ,i 140 Pope Innocent II. withdrew the monastery from the Bene- 
dictines and confided it to Cistercian monks whom St. Bernard, at 
the pope's request, had sent from Clairvaux. Their first abbot, 
Peter Bernard of Paganelli, was elected pope under the title of 
Eugene III. The monastery of Sts. Vincent and Anastasius, with 
the possessions connected with it, remained in the hands of St. 
Bernard's order, under the government at first of regular and 
afterwards of commendatory abbots, until 1809, when, the city of 
Rome having been annexed by a decree of Napoleon to the 
French Empire, the entire property was forcibly placed under 
the sole control of two imperial commissaries. During their ad- 
ministration all the large silver reliquaries presented by Charle- 
magne and other munificent donors disappeared for ever, and, 
with the exception of Tor de Specche, all the property in Rome 
belonging to the monastery was confiscated. The last abbot 
witnessed the entire ruin of his monastery, and died in helpless 
dependence on his former cellarer. 

After the fail of Napoleon Tre Fontane remained just as 
spoliation had left it until Leo XII. went there and, shocked at 
finding no one in charge to receive him and the three sanctuaries 
in a most filthy condition, gave the shrines in the care of Bro- 
thers Minor of St. Francis, commonly known as Franciscans. 

But the place had become so dreadfully unhealthy that it was 
called " The Tomb "; no community could live there, nor could 

*St. Bernard is said, while one day celebrating Mass there for the dead, to have had a vision 
of a ladder reaching from earth to the skies up which angels were leading souls freed from pur- 
gatory by the holy sacrifice. 



1889.] THE EUCALYPTUS CULTURE AT TRE FONTANE. 189 

* 

services be held in the three churches. The monastery was in 
charge of a single lay brother, whose business was to show visi- 
tors through the several shrines, and who, as evening came on, 
through fear of the fever withdrew to the Church of St. Sebas- 
tian. During the season for pasturing cattle and sheep a priest, 
by order of Pius VII., attended the Church of Scala Cceli to cele- 
brate Mass on Sunday for the herdsmen in the neighborhood, 
and to teach them catechism. 

This sad state of things continued until 1867, when Count 
de Maumigny came to Rome to be present at the festivities of 
the Eighteenth Centenary of St. Peter. He was deeply moved at 
seeing the scene of the martyrdom of St. Paul in such a state of 
abandonment. He wrote to the cardinal-abbot offering a sum 
of money, which was gratefully accepted, toward the restoration 
of the Church of Tre Fontane. A few months later two vicars- 
general of the reformed order of Citeaux, commonly known as 
Trappists, came from France to Rome on business of their order. 
Their attention was called to Tre Fontane, and they made up 
their minds to take it, if it were offered them, and with it the risk 
of fever consequent upon living there. Negotiations were en- 
tered into, and Pius IX., by bull dated April i, 1868, removed 
the Franciscans, and, on terms agreeable to both parties, placed 
the Trappists in possession of the Church of St. Vincent and St. 
Anastasius, with the adjoining monastery and the two churches 
of Scala Cceli and St. Paul. 

As no reference was made in the bull to Trappists of any par- 
ticular observance, monks under the rule of De Ranee and of 
the original constitutions of Citeaux both came from France to 
take part in the undertaking, and began a community life. The 
house, bare of everything, was soon equipped with the needed 
instruments of husbandry, tools, and necessaries for divine wor- 
ship, and the next endeavor was to make the place healthier by 
building an aqueduct to carry off some of the surface-water. 
This did a little perceptible good, and the general aspect was 
also improved by cleaning up the avenues and inner court-yard, 
which latter, under the direction of the cardinal commendatory, 
had been beautified by trees planted in it. The work of im- 
provement progressed satisfactorily until July following, when 
severe trials began. Every one in the community was stricken 
with fever, some unto death. Nor could the removal of the sick 
to the monastery of St. Sabina, a healthier habitation provided 
by the tender solicitude of Pius IX., be accomplished. Then 
Dom Timothy, abbot of La Grande Trappe, brought from 



190 THE EUCALYPTUS CULTURE AT TRE FONTANE. [May, 



i 
France a reinforcement of monks to fill the place of those 

whom it might be judged necessary to take back home. His 
presence inspired the fathers with new courage. He took an 
active part in looking up and securing a temporary abode to 
serve for the summer months, until the Tre Fontane lands could 
by cultivation be made sufficiently healthy to reside in at all 
times. Proper and permanent regular government, under the 
authority of a regularly appointed abbot, was also felt to be im- 
peratively needed, and Dom Eutropius, founder and first abbot 
of the monastery of Gethsemani in the United States, although 
sixty years old and in very feeble health, was sent from Mel- 
leray, where he had sought a retreat and hoped to end his days. 
At his first audience with Pius IX. the Sovereign Pontiff re- 
marked to the persons surrounding him : " That American abbot 
is bound to succeed" ; and when Dom Eutropius replied, " Holy 
Father, I am not capable to do all that will be expected of me ; 
you do not know me," Pius IX. insisted, saying, " Yes, you will 
succeed." He subsequently paid the monastery and the shrines 
a formal visit, which gave great consolation to the inmates. 
Shortly afterwards Divine Providence sent a powerful and de- 
voted protector in the person of the late Mgr. de Merode, grand 
almoner of the pope, at one time his minister of war, and then 
entrusted with the supervision of prisons in the Pontifical States. 
As there was a great deal of work to be done without delay and 
no laborers to be had, Mgr. de Merode supplied the want with 
convict labor ; he also took a very active part in planning and 
helping to carry out sanitary improvements. 

The Agro Romano, in which Tre Fontane lies, is largely of 
volcanic origin, well adapted for the culture of cereals, some- 
what rolling, studded with low hills, but so subject to malarial 
fevers that the people who till it, as soon as the crops have been 
harvested at the end of June, all leave for the Alban hills and do 
not return until the end of October following. 

The soil of the lands belonging to the abbey of Tre Fontane 
is mostly of three kinds clayey, clay and sand, and an alluvium 
containing clay and silex and much more organic matter than 
the other two. Where tillable it ranges in depth from eight to 
sixteen inches. It is pretty fertile, but, unfortunately, the sub- 
soil is nearly throughout a tufa of stoney structure called capel- 
lacio, impenetrable to the plough, and therefore a seemingly 
insurmountable obstacle to tree-planting. This stratum varies 
in thickness from eighteen inches in most spots to six and a half 
and even nine feet. Under it is found the pozzolana^ a volcanic 



1889-] THE EUCALYPTUS CULTURE AT TRE FONTANE. 191 

sand, which, when mixed with lime in a certain proportion, forms 
a very hard and durable cement, the only one used for building 
purposes in Rome and throughout the Roman Campagna. 

Tree-planting having been adopted by the fathers as the 
main feature of their plan for fighting the malaria, they con- 
cluded in 1870, on account of its reported febrifuge qualities, to 
make trial of the Eucalyptus globulus, although it was then but 
very little known in Europe. They began in a small way. Seed 
was scarce and dear, and they had to contend with many ex- 
perimental failures, which, however, did not discourage them. 
Their first attempts were made around the monastery and 
within its precincts. 

The eucalyptus is a native of Australia and belongs to the 
myrtle family. There are over 150 varieties, nearly all differing 
in their foliage. The leaves of some are long and oval, others 
almost round, but nearly all have a glistening surface, and, when 
bruised and rubbed together, give out a strong aromatic odor. 
The foliage does not become dense, and is readily penetrated by 
the sun's rays. Its bark, which it sheds annually, leaving a smooth 
surface underneath, is useful for tanning purposes. Its growth 
is quite rapid, surpassing in that respect nearly all resiniferous 
trees ; in eight years it commonly reaches a height of fifty-two 
feet and a trunk circumference of thirty-six inches. The specific 
gravity of its wood is 0.836, almost equal to the average of oak. 
Its timber is suited for shipbuilding, and makes excellent railway- 
sleepers. Besides the essences obtained from the leaves, the tree, 
when tapped, also yields a resinous gum, called in commerce 
gum of China, to the extent of one litre (about a quart) per tree. 
Its power to absorb water from the soil is marvellous. It has 
been ascertained that it can absorb and evaporate in the space 
of twelve hours a quantity of water equivalent in weight to from 
four to five times that of its foliage, and that in some places 
water, always before found quite close to the surface of the soil, 
after two years' growth there of eucalyptus trees had sunk 
downward over three feet. The leaves have an abundance of 
respiratory organs, as many as 350 stomata having been counted 
on one millimetre (one-twenty-fifth of an inch) square of inner sur- 
face of one leaf of a young tree of the globulus variety. 

But no tree-planting could be carried on unless the capellacio 
could be penetrated in some way. When broken up finer and 
mixed with the soil above it, it improves the latter, imparting to 
it qualities very favorable for culture. The Trappist fathers hit 
upon dynamite, never before used for that purpose. They first 



192 THE EUCALYPTUS CULTURE AT TRE FONTANE. [May, 

tried to drill the holes for blasting with hand.-drills, but soon 
found it too slow and too hard work. Then one of the com- 
munity invented a boring-machine worked by hand, and got it 
made by machinists in Rome. It answered the purpose and 
greatly facilitated rapid blasting. 

Of the abundant and minute particulars about the culture of 
the eucalyptus, given by the two French experts who had plenty 
of time and facilities to observe and study them, there is room 
here for only a very few. 

The seeds of the eucalyptus are planted, usually in the autumn, 
in pots or in boxes, filled with earth carefully prepared. The 
young plants germinate after a few days, must be kept clear of 
weeds, well watered, and protected from excessive heat and 
strong winds. When they are four inches high they are trans- 
planted into other oblong boxes large enough to hold forty 
plants, and where they remain until the following spring, by which 
time they have attained six or eight months' growth and are 
ready to be set out in the plantation, about six and a half feet 
apart. The plants require constant care and culture for three 
years. A too great abundance of water in the soil, particularly 
if stagnant, is unfavorable ; nor can they stand a very low 
temperature. One day in the winter of 1875-76, when the centi- 
grade thermometer fell to nine degrees below zero (nearly 16 
degrees Fahrenheit), one-half of the plants planted that year were 
killed; one species, the amygdalina, which is of slow growth, 
stands cold better than all others. 

Of the many varieties of eucalyptus tried by the fathers up to 
1879 complete success has been attained with only eleven, viz. : 
E. Globulus, E. Resinifera, E. Rostrata, Red gum, E. Urnigera, E. 
Teritricornis, E. Cocci/era, E. Viminalis, E. Melliodora, Gunii, Stuar- 
tiana. Some do well in moist, others in damp soil, but the glo- 
bulus seems to thrive almost anywhere. It would be a mistake, 
however, to suppose that no drainage of the land has been neces- 
sary ; many drains, open and covered, have had to be made. 

The results of the labors of the Trappist fathers, the pioneer 
and model growers in Europe of the eucalyptus, may, up to 
1882, be summarized as follows: First, as regards progressive 
sanitary improvement: from 1868, when they took possession of 
the premises of Tre Fontane, to 1874 although towards evening 
they all withdrew to temporary lodgings in Rome, near the little 
Church of St. Nicholas des Lorrains, let to them by the French 
government twelve of the community died of malarial fever. 
As soon after their small beginning in 1870 as they had got 



1889.] THE EUCALYPTUS CULTURE AT TRE FONTANE. 193 

one hectare (2^ acres) planted with trees, from five to six 
years old, a beneficial effect on the sanitary condition of the in- 
mates became apparent. In 1874, at the close of which Dom 
Eutropius died after several months of great suffering, the 
fathers abode permanently in their monastery, day and night, 
and no more deaths occurred. They are seldom ill, and cases of 
fever, if any, are of a mild type and are becoming more and more 
rare. It may be said without exaggeration that the health of 
the fathers and brother-laborers, notwithstanding the rigorous 
dietary to which they are subjected, is as satisfactory as possi- 
ble.* In March, 1882, their nurseries contained 55,000 young 
eucalyptus trees and covered 67 hectares (167 acres). They 
were looking forward to have in October following 100 hectares 
(250 acres) planted with 90,000 trees. Nine hundred trees per 
hectare are believed to suffice for obtaining all sanitary effects 
needed. 

The cultivation of the vine is also carried on successfully at 
Tre Fontane, and the wines produced (in most cases 60 hecto- 
litres i, 590 gallons per hectare), viz., Grenache, Carignan, Espar, 
Clairette, and Trebbiano, although somewhat lacking in alcohol, 
and hence not keeping very well, are of as good quality as the 
wines sold in Rome under the designation of vini di Castelli 
Romani, and that culture, besides being profitable, is also con- 
ducive to bettering the unhealthfulness of the soil. 

The successful labors of the Trappist fathers and the merits 
of their work have won for them appreciation and special favor 
from the Italian government, so notorious for its ruthless and 
tyrannical oppression of the religious orders. To this end, the 
election in 1875 of Dom Joseph Marie, an Italian, the first postu. 
lant that had persevered from the beginning, contributed some- 
what. In October, 1879, the Italian government leased to the 
Trappists of Tre Fontane by an emphyteutic lease, which implies 
a very long term, a low rent, and a special obligation to improve 
the land demised, 495 hectares (1,238 acres) of national land in the 
Agro Romano adjoining theirs, upon the condition that there is to 
be planted and grown on one-half of same, at the expiration of 
ten years, 125,000 eucalyptus trees. The remainder of the leased 
land is also to be put under cultivation, but in such manner as 

* The monks of La Trappe live on vegetables, boiled in water with salt, but without butter. 
They rise at 2 A.M. and go to bed in winter at 7 and in summer at 8 P.M. Never, save in cases 
of sickness, do they eat fish, meat, eggs, or butter. Nevertheless, all are vigorous, and each one 
has to work eight hours a day either in the fields or at house-work. 
VOL. XLIX. 13 



194 THE EUCALYPTUS CULTURE A 7 TRE FONTANE. [May, 

the lessees may consider best. This leased land is probably a 
confiscated estate, formerly belonging to the Ladies of the Holy 
Sacrament, who could not be persuaded, despite earnest en- 
deavors of Pius IX., to allow the Trappists to cultivate it, but 
preferred to let it lie in fallow. 

The Italian government has not only permitted the continued 
employment of convict labor, first tried by Monsignor de 
Merode, but has organized and regulated it with a view to bring 
about reformation. Only convicts sentenced to confinement or 
to hard labor for less than ten years, and having served half their 
time, were selected, and they earned on an average one lire per 
day, of which they were allowed to receive only a small portion, 
the accumulated remainder being held back for payment to them 
when liberated. Such as had a very good record for good con- 
duct and disposition were lodged in the spacious monastery 
buildings, all others in a temporary one which they were made 
to erect. At all times they are under the surveillance of well- 
armed keepers. This out-of-door farm-work, being more con. 
genial and less degrading than what they might be put to else- 
where, whether in prison or out of it, is particularly agreeable to 
the convicts, who consider it a favor to be sent to Tre Fontane. 
The influence of the religious, the kind and considerate treat- 
ment experienced not alone from them, but also from the gov- 
ernment employees in charge, have had a very beneficial effect 
on the prisoners. In three years only one attempt to escape has 
been made, and successfully, by two long-term convicts. A 
striking instance occurred, showing the reformation operated 
in the general .spirit of the convicts. A keeper in charge of a 
gang fell from a height where he was on guard, and was so 
badly hurt that he could not use the fire-arms which he had. 
The gang, instead of improving the opportunity to further disable 
him and run away, picked him up and carried him with his 
weapons to the monastery. In short, it could be said of the 237 
convicts employed in February, 1882, that they worked far more 
conscientiously and with better will than could be expected of 
that class of laborers.* 

Senator Torelli, the friend and patron of the agricultural 
colony at Tre Fontane, where his bust appears conspicuously in 
one of their principal rooms, made, in the beginning of 1880, a 

* The present writer, who visited Tre Fontane in January of last year, was told by the reli- 
gious who showed him the place that they then cultivated in all 800 hectares (2,000 acres), 
employed 300 convicts, and grew seventy varieties of eucalyptus. 



1889.] THE E UCAL YP TUS CUL TURE A r TRE FONT A NE. 1 9 5 

report to the Italian Senate on the subject of the cultivation of 
eucalyptus considered as a means to render feverous localities 
healthy and habitable. His views met with some opposition in 
the Italian Parliament, but finally prevailed, and legislative 
measures were adopted for the general purpose of extending 
the culture of this exotic tree, and of establishing a normal 
school for its acclimation. This implied, of course, continued 
assistance and encouragement to the experiment successfully 
conducted at Tre Fontane. Ultimate success there will demon- 
strate the possibility, by the use of the same means, all others 
having proved failures, to render healthy, or much less un- 
healthy, such fever-stricken tracts as the Tuscan Maremma and 
the Pontine marshes on the Mediterranean, and others on the 
Adriatic coast. So very fertile is the soil of the Maremma that 
men are found willing to undertake its cultivation even at a risk of 
life. It is a popular Italian saying that " in the Maremma a man 
can make a fortune in a year if he does not die in six months." 
The subject is also of the greatest importance to railway compa- 
nies having lines on the Mediterranean and Adriatic coasts, par- 
ticularly the former. They now experience great difficulty and 
are put to inordinate expense in keeping their stations, inspec- 
tion cabins, and crossings properly manned, being compelled 
to keep on hand a force twice or three times more numerous 
than is ordinarily required for such purposes. The increased 
outlay from this cause is estimated by Senator Torelli to amount 
in aggregate, for the lines on the Mediterranean, Adriatic, Sici- 
lian, and Sardinian coasts, to 1,500,000 lire ($300,000). 

How to render the Pontine marshes salubrious and habitable 
is the object of persistent eager study by the savants of Italy. 
Professor Thomasi submitted to the academy of Lincei in Rome 
a paper in which he claimed to have discovered, with the assist- 
ance of Mr. Klebs, that the malarial ferment is produced by a 
schizomicetes of the genus bacillus, to which he gave the name of 
bacillus malaria. He describes it as an organism living mostly 
in the atmosphere ; that in miasmatic places the development of 
its spores into sporigenous bacilli goes on under the three follow- 
ing conditions, but not if any one of them be wanting, viz., a 
temperature of about 20 degrees centigrade (68 degrees Fahren- 
heit) ; a moderate degree of permanent humidity ; direct action 
of the oxygen of the atmosphere on all parts of the miasma- 
tic surface. Professor Thomasi establishes the fact that these 
scientific data are confirmed by the observations of popular 
experience. 



196 THE EUCALYPTUS CULTURE AT TRE FONTANE. [May, 

But in the Pontine marshes the eucalyptus cannot do its 
work until the abundant stagnant waters there will have been 
first drawn off by canaling and draining. That this last method 
was extensively practised, in that locality and elsewhere, by 
the Romans in earliest times is evidenced by the cuniculi dis- 
covered in 1878 by the civil engineer Di Tucci, who was after- 
wards followed in his explorations by M. de la Blanchere, 
formerly of the ficole Frangaise at Rome. The cuniculi are 
very ancient drains, about five feet deep and from twenty-seven 
to forty inches wide, forming a widespread system of general 
drainage ; in the case of the basin of the Tiber and the Anio 
these are so numerous as to give it the appearance on a 
map of an immense rabbit-warren. Their existence, in olden 
times, in the Pontine marshes has been ascertained by M. de la 
Blanchere, who spent for that purpose three years in the very 
heart of the infected district, part of the time at Velletri and 
afterwards at Terracina, running the risk of contracting the 
fever, from which he did not escape unscathed. 

The fathers make out of the eucalyptus, besides other 
preparations, an elixir in the form of a liqueur, resembling 
Chartreuse, for which they claim valuable febrifuge and anti- 
septic qualities. 

The Trappists are a reformed branch of the Cistercian Order, 
founded at the monastery of La Trappe, in France, about i652, 
by Armand Jean le Bouthillier de Ranee, at a time when the 
parent order had fallen into great relaxation and consequent 
decay from many causes, but principally "in later times by the 
system of commendation, which gave the name and emoluments 
of abbot to some non-resident lay man x>r ecclesiastic." De Ranee 
introduced and enforced at La Trappe the rule of what was 
called the " strict observance " of the Cistercian Order. Under 
his impulse and direction the new order soon became a model 
of monastic virtue, and practically demonstrated that the peni- 
tential life of the middle ages is not unsuited to modern times. 
Notwithstanding the many difficulties it had to contend with, 
it maintained itself faithfully and with favorable prospects up 
to the time of the first French Revolution, when, despite the 
remonstrances of the neighboring populations, it was sup- 
pressed by order of the Republican government. It was saved 
from complete extinction solely by the intelligence, courage, 
and energy of one of its members, Louis Henri de Lestrange, in 
^religion Dom Augustin, who has deserved to be considered 



1889] THE EUCALYPTUS CULTURE AT TRE FONT AN E. 197 

" the truly great man of La Trappe ." He had been appointed 
in 1780 coadjutor of the diocese of Pompignan, in France, arid 
entered La Trappe in order to avoid the burden of episcopal 
responsibility. He was master of novices when the storm of re- 
volution burst upon France, and, realizing the full extent of immi- 
nent danger to his order, obtained from the senate of the Canton 
of Fribourg in Switzerland permission to establish a home in its 
territory. He set out with twenty-four religious, in a miserable 
wagon, without provisions, with hardly any money, and under 
police surveillance, and at last, after a weary journey across 
France, reached Switzerland, and on June i, 1791, took solemn 
possession of the monastery of Val-Sainte, assigned as a habi- 
tation for him and his companions. There they not only re- 
sumed practice of " the strict observance," but added to it 
other austerities unknown to the early fathers of Citeaux. 
Pius VI., in order to reward their heroic fidelity, by his brief 
dated Sept. 30, 1794, enjoined upon his nuncio at Lucerne, in- 
vested with the powers of legate a latere, to give by apostolic 
authority approval to the new foundation, and to grant besides 
other favors needed to insure its firm and complete establish- 
ment. A short period of prosperity then began for Val-Sainte. 
Postulants applied in such numbers, and from such various quar- 
ters, that Dom Augustin was enabled to send out, at short 
intervals, religious colonists to Spain, Piedmont, Belgium, Eng- 
land, and even to America. He also established in Lower Va- 
lais an asylum for female religious forcibly exiled from their 
native lands, and founded a third order for the education of 
youth. But in 1798, the French armies having invaded Switzer- 
land, the Trappist colony at Val-Sainte, which then comprised 
monks, female religious, and the teachers of the third order, with 
their pupils, in all two hundred and fifty persons, had to leave 
their home. Divided into three bands, they traversed Suabia, 
Bavaria, Austria, and Poland, and after sufferings unheard of 
arrived in Russia, where the Czar Paul, out of regard for Sister 
Mary Joseph, who was a princess of Conde, gave them a gra- 
cious welcome. 

But eighteen months had hardly gone by when an order 
came for their expulsion, and in their wanderings after leaving 
Russia they had to endure greater hardships than any experi- 
enced before. Repelled from every country where they sought 
admission, they were driven to seek refuge and a resting-place 
on a small, unclaimed island in the middle of a river, and 



198 THE EUCALYPTUS CULTURE AT TRE FONT AN E. [May, 

at last, after very singular adventures, they arrived at Dantzic 
and thence at Lubeck. Shortly afterwards the Trappistines, 
or female religious, were divided into two parts ; one went to 
England and founded the house at Stape Hill, in the present dio- 
cese of Plymouth, the other settled near the monastery of Dar- 
feld, in Westphalia. The monks were divided and sent to divers 
destinations; some went to Darfeld, others to Westmale, others 
again founded the monastery of St. Liborius, near Driburg, and 
of Valda, in the heart of a Prussian province ; and, after they were 
driven by the Prussian government out of its territory, part of 
them sailed for America, and the others, after seven years of exile 
and wanderings, returned joyfully to Val-Sainte. Then follow- 
ed a period of nine years' quiet (1802-1811), during which not 
only were they free from persecution, but they were protected 
by Napoleon, who favored them as he had other exiled members 
of their order elsewhere. But when, in 1811, he found that they 
chose to declare their fidelity to Pius VII., whom he was perse- 
cuting, and refused to take an oath which violated their con- 
sciences, the emperor's good will was suddenly turned into hatred; 
he decreed their suppression, and a price was set upon the head 
of Dom Augustin, who fled to America. Almost immediately 
after the fall of Napoleon, Dom Augustin returned to France 
with his exiled companions and took possession of La Trappe, 
from which he had been away twenty-five years; other houses 
were opened at other points, and the order of Citeaux was then 
re-established in France. But a severe trial not long afterwards 
arose for Dom Augustin, through whose energy his order had 
been saved from perishing. He was cited to Rome by Leo XII. 
to answer charges brought against him by false brethren, who 
were countenanced and supported therein by very respectable 
men, by prelates, and even by cardinals misled on the subject. He 
left for Rome in July, 1825, and after a stay there of two years 
vindicated himself so entirely that when he left to return home he 
had obtained from the Sovereign Pontiff, besides the papal bless- 
ing for himself and all his congregation, an abundance of presents 
and favors. But, worn out with toil, old age, and the constant 
daily practice of austerities, he died, very soon after reaching 
France, on July 16, 1827, aged seventy-four years. At present, 
by a brief of Pius IX. of February 27, 1847, the two observ- 
ances are entirely separate and form two distinct congre- 
gations, one having the name of " The Old Reform of Our 
Lady of La Trappe," which follows the rule of the Abbe de 



1889.] THE EUCALYPTUS CULTURE AT TRE FONTANE. 199 

Ranee, and the other is known as "The New Reform of Our 
Lady of La Trappe," which is under the rule of St. Benedict and 
the original Cistercian constitutions approved by the Holy See. 
Both comprise in aggregate fifty-four monasteries and over three 
thousand religious, some houses of which are for female reli- 
gious. The monasteries of Our Lady of Gethsemani at New 
Haven (Kentucky), and of Our Lady of New Melleray in the 
diocese of Dubuque (Iowa), both follow the original constitutions 
of Citeaux, as does also the monastery at Tre Fontane. At 
Noumea, in the French penal settlement of New Caledonia, there 

* m 

is a monastery under the constitutions of the Abbe de Ranc6, 
founded in 1877, under the title of Notre Dame des lies (Our 
Lady of the Islands). In that field the edifying example of lives 
of great religious mortification and austerity should be of great 
value and greatly needed. 

As is well known, the eucalyptus has been cultivated in fever- 
stricken sections of California with results similar to those men- 
tioned in this article. There seems to be no reason why this 
culture should not be extended ; if properly managed, it could be 
made available for the sanitary betterment of many regions more 
or less afflicted with malarial fevers. And perhaps it may de- 
velop the property of absorbing mosquitoes as well as water ! 
What a blessing that would prove to our friends in Jersey ! 

The successful demonstration at Tre Fontane of the peculiar 
and valuable properties of the exotic above named forms an evi- 
dent instance of the beneficence of God, which, while permitting 
a source of disease to rise from the earth for the affliction of man, 
has provided an antidote it left to human intelligence, energy, 
and industry, in time, to discover and apply. 

L. B. BINSSE. 



200 THE SUPERNATURAL. [May, 



THE SUPERNATURAL. 

4 

THE term " supernatural" is used in so many senses, and be- 
comes in each of these senses a predicate of so many different 
and distinct subjects, that it is necessary to define and distinguish 
clearly what is meant by this term, before proceeding with the 
exposition of the precise topic of the present article. 

And first, what is meant by " nature," as that which presents 
the notion logically prior to the notion of something which is 
above nature. This term, in its widest sense, includes all being. 
We speak of the divine nature as well as of the nature of things 
which are diverse from the divine nature. In this sense, there 
can be nothing above nature. In a more restricted sense, the 
term is used in reference to the essence of all existing beings in 
the universe which are not God. " Essence " denotes what they 
are. " Nature " denotes their capacity for receiving and exert- 
ing action in conformity with their essence. In this sense, God is 
supernatural, and all the relations of creatures to God are rela- 
tions to the supernatural. Among the principal relations of this 
kind are those of origin and end to God as First and Final Cause. 
From these proceed the relations of dependence and subjection 
to God as preserver, provider, and sovereign lord. It is in this 
sense that the term "supernatural " and its cognate terms are 
most generally used. Then again, the terms "nature* and 
" natural " are often restricted to some specific kinds or states of 
being, e.g., to mankind and their present environment. This 
leads to the designation of all which is above human nature in 
its present condition, as supernatural, in this limited sense ; 
meaning not that which is above all nature, but only what tran- 
scends some particular kind and condition of nature. 

It is obvious that so long as we remain within this circle of 
thought and language, we can have no notion of the possibility 
of a purely natural order which is consistent with Theistic philo- 
sophy. For the notion of nature which ascribes its origin, its 
laws, its end, to no cause which is superior to the universe, 
excludes all relation to God as first and 'final cause. 

Nevertheless, Catholic theology does mark a distinction be- 
tween the order of nature in the universe, including all the rela- 
tions specified above, as existing between the creation and the 
creator; and the supernatural order which constitutes intelligent 



.] THE SUPERNATURAL. 201 

creatures in an entirely new relation to God, in which the whole 
universe, in a certain sense participates. It is plain that in this 
connection, the term " supernatural " must be used in a peculiar 
sense, quite different from those which have been already noticed 
as in more common use. 

It is of " The Supernatural " in this theological sense that I 
propose to treat, briefly, but as clearly as necessary brevity will 
allow, in the present article. 

The topic is of great importance. A right understanding of 
it opens the way to rational conceptions of several dogmas of 
Catholic faith which cannot otherwise be obtained. The ap- 
parent anomaly of miracles, religious teaching of mankind by 
revelation, and of all else which is like an intrusion of the super- 
natural into the domain of nature and natural laws, is removed ; 
when the idea of a complete, supreme, all-embracing super- 
natural order becomes clear. These apparent anomalies are 
seen to be only seemingly anomalous, and to seem anomalous 
because the real order and its laws into which they fit harmo- 
niously is not apprehended. Moreover, the doctrines of the In- 
carnation, Original Sin, Grace, the two opposite Eternal States 
in the future world, cannot be understood in a rational manner 
Without this first preliminary and architectonic idea. 

From what has been already said, it is evident that the predi- 
cate " supernatural" divides the divine essence from all created 
essence. All created essence is within the boundary of nature, 
separated by an infinite distance from the divine essence. The 
notion of a supernatural elevation of a created being must there- 
fore denote the transfer of the creature across this infinite dis- 
tance, from his own proper plane of being to that plane of being 
which is proper to God alone by his essence. The being, the 
excellence, the life, the beatitude of God, is primarily infinite in- 
telligence. To say that a creature is elevated to the plane of 
the divine being, is, therefore, equivalent to saying that it is 
raised to the plane of the divine intelligence. A supernatural 
order in the creation is an intellectual order, in which only in- 
tellectual beings can be included, as subjects of the elevating 
action of God upon their nature. Inferior natures, although 
they may be raised to a high degree of perfection, and even 
receive a certain glorification, on account of their connection 
with the intellectual and spiritual order, can never transcend 
their natural limits. 

The possibility of the elevation of a created intelligent spirit 
to a plane of intellectual being above that which essentially 



202 THE SUPERNATURAL. [May, 

belongs to it by its nature, can only be known by divine reve- 
lation. 

A created, finite intelligence cannot have for its direct, imme- 
diate, intelligible object, an essence which infinitely transcends 
its own essence. The object must be proportionate to the sub- 
ject. An intellect can see nothing which it is not capable of 
receiving ideally in itself, as a mirror receives the image of a visi- 
ble object. The natural knowledge of God which is proper to 
a created intelligence is only that which is virtually contained in 
the knowledge of the creation and of the self-evident truths 
which are expressed in its existing beings. The immediate con- 
templation of the divine being, as he is, one in essence, subsist- 
ing in three persons, is the proper act of only divine intelligence. 
The complacency which follows this vision, that is, the beatitude 
of perfect, infinite possession of being which is infinitely good 
and infinitely beautiful, belongs only to God. There is a natural 
love corresponding to the natural knowledge of God, by which 
the felicity of an intelligent creature who has attained his due 
perfection can be crowned and completed. But this love be- 
tween the creator and the creature, infinitely distant from each 
other, is not the love of friendship properly so called, of intimate 
union and fellowship in the same life, in one beatitude. 

If such an union be possible, it can only be effected by raising 
the creature to a kind of equality with the creator. To pure 
human reason such an elevation does not seem to be possible, 
unless by a false philosophy, the infinite transcendence of God in 
respect to the creation is obscured or denied and the true con- 
cept of the relation of creatures to God is altered. 

Revelation discloses the possibility and the reality of this 
elevation, so that it is an object of divine faith resting on the 
veracity of God. It is a mystery of religion, above reason, but 
not contrary to reason. Its possibility cannot be reasonably 
questioned, much less can its impossibility be demonstrated by 
rational arguments. More than this, reason can get some glim- 
mering of the splendor of the revealed truth, and dimly appre- 
hend its congruity with all that is knowable respecting God and 
the intention of his creative act. 

The shortest and quickest way of attaining a clear and dis- 
tinct concept of the supernatural is to ascend at once to its most 
sublime height in the incarnation of the Son of God. All who 
believe in the divinity of Jesus Christ in the literal and true 
sense, must admit that in him human nature is raised above what 
created nature is or possibly could be, by virtue of the creative 






1889.] THE SUPERNATURAL. 203 

act, in its simple essence and intrinsic exigency, as intellectual or 
rational nature. The genuine doctrine of the divinity of Christ 
is: that he is one Person subsisting in two natures, the divine* 
and the human ; the divine nature communicated by eternal 
generation from God the Father, the human nature received 
from the Virgin Mother miraculously quickened by the Holy 
Spirit. He is the Only-Begotten Son of God, and, as conceived 
and born of the Virgin Mary, the Son of Man. The union of 
the two natures is hypostatic, that is, in unity of hypostasis, as 
the Greeks express it, or persona according to the Latins, without 
any alteration of either nature. The human nature of the Lord 
is a singular, individual, perfect nature in respect both to body 
and soul, finite, created, and having no more and no less in its 
pure essence, properties, and exigencies, than the essence of hu- 
manity which is in all men. The human soul of the Lord has in 
it the principle of sensitive life, intellect, will, and self-conscious- 
ness. But, at the summit of intellectual consciousness, instead 
of being completely in possession of being by itself, of the last 
complement of self-subsistence, of ultimate dominion over itself, 
it meets by its human consciousness the divine consciousness, and 
is aware that it belongs to a divine person to whom all its acts 
are referred as the principle of imputability. The incarnation 
is the assumption and elevation of a human nature to be the na- 
ture of God. It is the Only-Begotten and Eternal Son who is 
born of Mary, baptized by John, who becomes obedient unto 
death, even the death of the cross, rises again and ascends into 
heaven, where he reigns in glory and will subdue all things to 
himself. 

This is the doctrine of all who believe in the real divinity of 
Jesus Christ ; although with many their belief is more or less 
obscure and implicit. 

No one can suppose or imagine that a created human soul 
can, by its nature, subsist in hypostatic union with the divine 
nature, or merit such union, or be worthy of it, or have an exi- 
gency for it, or in any way have it for its natural end. It is 
purely supernatural. It is a gratuitous gift proceeding from 
the infinite goodness of God, which is not, and cannot be due 
to any specific nature, in general or in particular, or to the uni- 
verse as a whole. There is a wonderful fitness and congruity 
in the sublime fact of the Incarnation, but not a congruity of 
such a kind, that its absence would leave any positive incon- 
gruity in the state and order of the universe. It transcends all 
that the most sublime intelligence of a created being could con- 



204 THE SUPERNATURAL. [May, 

ceive as possible, unless manifested by a ray of light from God, 
and supernaturally revealed. 

Let us consider what is involved in the hypostatic union. A 
human soul is placed in the full blaze of divine intelligence and 
the full heat of divine love. The Son of God to whom this soul 
belongs, possesses by eternal right all uncreated and created 
good. His human nature is the recipient of good in so far as 
this is possible within the limits of a finite essence. The man- 
hood of the Lord is irradiated and inflamed from the Godhead, 
endowed with all possible perfections, and raised to the acme of 
glorification. 

Jesus Christ, the Lord of Glory, is not alone, although he is 
supreme, in his glory. His glory is a possession belonging to 
him as the Only-Begotten Son of God. But he is, in one sense, 
the first-begotten and first-born Son, having many brethren, who 
share in his filiation, by the grace of adoption. The angels and 
saints in glory are not united to the Godhead by a hypostatic 
union. Each one has his own distinct and separate personality, 
which is the natural and finite complement of his created being. 
But all are united to the Godhead by a union which is an assimi- 
lation in its degree to the union of manhood with the divine 
nature of the Second Person in the Godhead. The intuitive 
vision of the divine essence, the corresponding, immutable love, 
the beatitude and glory, and the consequent natural perfections, 
in the intellectual and moral qualities, in respect to man in the 
corporeal properties also, together with every kind of enjoyment 
of congruous created goods, are given by grace to all the 
blessed, in various degrees, both angels and men. The Lord 
Jesus Christ is the head of an entire and vast supernatural order, 
including countless millions of intelligent beings, to which all 
the rest of the universe is subordinated, and thus, in its measure, 
participating in the glory of the Incarnation. 

The state of probation, which is now confined to the human 
race on the earth, the probation of angels having long ago been 
finished, is an inchoate, preparatory state, in which initial grace 
is given for attaining by the due exercise of free-will, and by ac- 
quiring merit, the final end of human life, which is everlasting 
beatitude. This initial state must correspond to its term and lie 
in the same order. Physical training cannot give science and 
wisdom. It must be intellectual. Merely intellectual training 
cannot give virtue. It must be moral. Purely rational and 
moral development in the natural order cannot elevate the mind 
and will to the level of that knowledge and love of God which 



.] THE SUPERNATURAL. 205 

properly belong to the sons and friends of God, who are co-heirs 
with Christ, the Son of the Father by nature and equal to him 
in respect to his divinity, though inferior in respect to his 
humanity. 

It is in this inferior state of being, to which the Son of God 
has descended in order to come into close contact with his 
creation, that he is the model of all those rational beings who 
are predestined to glorification. The supernatural state to which 
they are called and finally exalted, is most clearly seen in its 
most perfect specimen and ideal exemplar, the humanity of the 
Word Incarnate. This deified humanity participates with the 
divine nature in all that which constitutes the effulgence of 
its glory, through the hypostatic union. The immediate point 
of contact in this union is in the summit of the soul, viz.: the 
intellect, where consciousness not merely, as in us, makes the 
rational soul self-luminous to itself, but makes the divine essence, 
in which the human is immersed, self-luminous and giving to the 
human the last word of self-affirmation in unison with the divine, 
the affirmation of personal identity. Union of will to will fol- 
lows union of intellect to intellect, of consciousness to conscious- 
ness. Union of essence and nature throughout, of the entire 
substantial being composed of soul and body, to the divine nature 
in the Person of the Son, in whom both subsist, is the result of 
the act by which this Divine Person, instead of completing the 
human child he has created from the substance of the Virgin by 
a human personalitv, has given it his own and assumed it for his 
own. The Word was in the beginning, i.e., eternally, with God, 
and was God. In time, the Word was made flesh and dwelt 
among us. One and the same Word exercises divine and 
human intelligence, divine and human volitions, divine and 
human acts. There is one thinker, one wilier, one actor, one 
lover and redeemer of mankind, one Sovereign Lord, one 
Person, acting through two distinct natures, in two modes, the 
divine and the human, for the same Object. The primary and 
final object is God. The object of divine intelligence is the divine 
essence, and the object of the divine will is the same, in which it 
rests with complacency. By his human intelligence the Divine 
Word contemplates and rests in the same object. All the terms 
of divine intelligence and volition which are external to the divine 
essence have in it their foundation and reason. To behold God 
as he is in his essence, and to be blessed in this vision, is there- 
fore the ultimatum of intelligent life and beatitude. To this ulti- 
matum the Divine Word has chosen to elevate the human nature 



2c6 THE SUPERNATURAL. [May, 

which he has assumed, in that mode and degree which are the 
highest possible for created and finite being. And he has also 
chosen to elevate many created beings in that mode which is 
next to the highest, and in various degrees, the lowest of which 
is incomparably superior to the highest degree attainable by any 
creature through its natural powers. 

The virtuality of the essence of finite beings is contained in 
the divine essence. That is to say, the divine essence is im- 
itable in an infinite number of ways as archetype and exem- 
plar, by the divine omnipotence. All these possible beings, and 
all which are made real and actual by the divine power, with 
their relations and acts, are the terms of the divine intelligence 
and will which are external to the divine being. They are also 
the natural terms of the cognition and volition of created rational 
beings. As the sky is reflected in little rain and dew-drops, so 
the infinite perfections of God are reflected in diminuted images 
in created intellects, which are multitudinous little mirrors im- 
itating the pellucid mirror of the divine intelligence. These 
created intellects, by their innate or acquired ideas, can have 
knowledge of the creation, and of the author of nature, in so far 
as he has represented himself in his works. A natural love of 
God as the author of nature necessarily follows this knowledge. 
Perfection and stability in this kind of life is the end which pro- 
perly belongs to a rational nature, and is proportioned to its exi- 
gency and capacity. This state has an analogy with beatitude in 
the strict sense, and may be called, after the example of the 
Greek Fathers, beatitude in a certain inferior sense. It receives 
the qualifying predicate " natural," to distinguish it from that 
absolute beatitude which belongs to God alone in its plenitude, 
and in which the glorified sons of God, in their measure, par- 
ticipate. 

In order that human nature may be made worthy and fit for 
this participation, it must receive new qualities and a new vital 
power by which it is elevated and transformed into the likeness 
of Jesus Christ, and raised to a kind of equality with God, such 
an equality as is required by the filial relation. The providence 
which conducts mankind to its final end must be supernatural, 
and this is what is meant by predestination, in the writings of 
St. Augustine and St. Thomas. The entire plan and arrange- 
ment of things in view of the final consummation in the king- 
dom of heaven is the Supernatural Order. 

And now, it becomes evident that the genuine and true con- 
ception of the supernatural in respect to human destiny, makes 



.] THE SUPERNATURAL. 207 

a clean sweep of all a priori and metaphysical objections against 
the credibility of Christian facts and doctrines. They are 
all based on an assumption of pure naturalism and rational- 
ism, of a movement from some given origin and principle, 
under the control of purely natural laws, to a merely natural 
end. 

When the end is apprehended as supernatural, not by sup- 
pression of the natural end but by transcendence and elevation, 
and the order is apprehended as supernatural, not by subversion 
of natural law but subjection to a higher law, and grace as su- 
pernatural, not by the destruction or essential alteration of na- 
ture but by its exaltation, the harmony between the natural and 
the supernatural becomes manifest. 

The negation of separate personality does not deprive the 
human nature of our Lord Jesus Christ of any of its natural 
perfections. It has a better personification by being taken up 
by a divine person, is immeasurably enriched and adorned by 
the communication of good from the divine nature. ' Corporeal 
nature is made better when it receives a vital principle, organic 
nature is made better when it is taken up to a share in the life 
of a rational soul. The whole natural order is ennobled by be- 
ing elevated to the plane of the supernatural, with no loss but 
a great increase of the perfections which are properly natural. 
There is no clashing, discord, or incongruity produced by the 
overruling of natural law and development by a higher law, 
tending to a more sublime end. 

The application of this higher law, with its array of super- 
natural media, revelation, prophecy, miracles, gifts of grace, to 
a mere development of nature in view of a natural end, would 
indeed be incongruous. Above all, such a stupendous act as the 
coming of the Son of God in the form of man to repair the dam- 
age of nature by dying on the cross, is utterly incredible. There 
is no proportion between the end and the means. It is like em- 
ploying a locomotive to draw a baby-carriage, or an ironclad war- 
ship to tow a row-boat. On the hypothesis of a merely natural 
end and order for mankind, there are causes and forces and laws 
in nature which suffice, under that ordinary providence which 
has formed and regulates the solar system. Progress in 
science, art, social and political economy, civilization, philo- 
sophy, natural religion, virtue, earthly felicity, in prospect of 
a better state in a higher sphere, do not need a divine Christ, 
the grace of the Redeemer, and the church and religion of 
Christ, by reason of what they are in themselves, but only be- 



2o8 THE SUPERNATURAL. [May, 

cause of their actual relation to and dependence from a higher 
and supernatural order. 

The manifest deficiency and failure of mere naturalism is a 
proof that the end and order are really supernatural. Mere nat- 
uralism cannot provide a reasonable philosophy, or an adequate 
religion. If the real order were purely natural it would do this. 
The notion of the supernatural would never have occurred to 
the mind of man, the aspiration for it would never have stirred 
his heart. Whereas, all ages and all forms of religion bear wit- 
ness to the common, glorious hope, which God has awakened in 
the universal human consciousness, that he would come down to 
man, and raise man to himself. Naturalism is absurd and de- 
grading, because it must suppose that mankind have always been 
victims of an unreasonable and unnatural illusion. 

On the other hand, there is no theory of what commonly 
passes under the name of supernatural religion, among non-Cath- 
olics professing to be orthodox Christians, which is self-consistent 
and logically complete, and at the same time consistent with 
natural theology and rational philosophy. The only logical sys- 
tem which the Reformation has produced is the Luthero-Calvin- 
istic. Its doctrines are incredible. The revolt of reason and 
the moral sense against them has driven a multitude of persons 
to regretfully renounce Christianity, if not formally, yet virtually, 
and even, in some cases, all rational philosophy which deserves 
the name. 

The genuine and veritable concept of the supernatural, and 
that alone, makes possible a rational harmony between nature 
and grace, reason and faith, philosophy and revelation, the ethics 
and dogmas of Christianity with the dictates of the human con- 
science and the truths evident or demonstrable to the human in- 
tellect. That alone reconciles the facts and miracles of Christian- 
ity with history and science, its spirit and action with the cul- 
ture of art, literature, social and political well-being, genuine 
civilization in the temporal order, everything in the world which 
is really good and noble. The Calvinistic doctrine of the total 
depravation of nature by original sin, and the inability of unre- 
generate men to do anything which is not sinful, if its spirit be 
fully imbibed, and its consequences logically deduced and re- 
duced to practice, is hostile to all these natural aspirations and 
efforts. Happily, those who hold it theoretically are not con- 
sistent, and are much better than their theory. No philosophy, 
no ethics, no enlightened view of history, no science of jurispru- 
dence and politics, is possible ; unless based on the axioms and 



1889.] THE SUPERNATURAL. 209 

maxims of the competence of reason, the authority of conscience, 
the essential goodness of nature, and the capability of men as 
free agents to conform to the moral law by virtuous actions. 

On this basis, the need of the redemption, of grace, of divine 
revelation, of justification by faith, must be referred, not to a 
total ruin of nature, but in part to its intrinsic incapacity to attain a 
supernatural destiny without a correlative elevation and assistance 
in the same order, and in part to the loss of the original state of 
grace by the Fall. The true concept of the supernatural is there- 
fore a necessary prerequisite to the construction of a rational 
Christian theology in harmony with a rational philosophy. So 
far as the right apprehension of original sin is concerned, enough 
has been said in former articles. 

The same concept of the supernatural which enables a theo- 
logian to explain original sin in a manner conformable to prin- 
ciples of reason and justice, is equally efficacious in respect to the 
other Christian doctrines which have been above specified. 

The supernatural culminates in the Incarnation. The Son of 
God coming on the earth in the form and nature of manhood is a 
revealer of God. His coming is a revelation, a transcendent 
miracle, a grace of the highest order, and is accompanied by the 
other transcendent facts of his divine conception by the Holy 
Spirit and birth of a Virgin, his death on the cross and resurrec- 
tion. He became man, that man might primarily in his person, 
and secondarily, through him, in many men, become united to 
God. 

The mystery of this divine Incarnation could be made known 
only by a revelation. The Blessed Virgin, indeed, knew that the 
conception of the holy Child and his birth were miraculous, 
but others could know this only by her testimony, which would 
have been insufficient to attest credibly such an extraordinary 
fact, unless there had been revelations and miracles preceding, 
accompanying, and following, to make it fully credible. But, even 
the Virgin Mother could only know that her Son was more than 
an extraordinary man, except by divine revelation. All others 
who saw and heard him, who witnessed his miracles, stood by 
his cross, conversed with him after his resurrection, could only 
perceive by their senses and reason that he was a holy and won- 
derful man, with whom God was present and through whom he 
was doing divine works. His humanity alone was visible, his 
divinity was invisible. The only evidence of it was his own 

testimony and the prophecies of his precursors. The motive of 
VOL. XLIX. 14 



210 THE SUPERNATURAL. [May, 

assent to this sublime truth was his veracity apprehended as 
identical with the veracity of God, and the assent of the mind 
to the truth of the Incarnation was the assent of faith. 

With the Mystery of the Incarnation the Mystery of the 
Trinity is indissolubly associated. The Father sends the Son, 
the Holy Spirit consummates his work. The end of man is the 
vision of God as he is, One Essence in Three Persons. The due 
preparation for the clear contemplation of vision is the obscure 
contemplation of faith. Therefore a divine revelation is neces- 
sary, in view of the supernatural destiny of mankind, and these 
Mysteries of the Trinity and the Incarnation are its substance par 
excellence, with other articles pertaining to its integrity. A divine 
revelation, culminating in the Mission of the Son of God and of 
the Divine Spirit, introduces a new law and a supernatural order, 
in which miracles, inspiration, positive institutions of religion 
having a divine sanction, have a normal place and relations in 
harmony with natural law, and all that belongs to the regular 
course of the human and historical development of mankind. 

The necessity of supernatural grace in order to produce the 
faith, hope, and charity which correspond to the revelation of a 
supernatural end, and to create the character of sanctity which 
is requisite for attaining it, is very easily proved to be a conse- 
quence from the first principles of the supernatural order. . 

The human soul comes into its subjective relation with the 
divine revelation, and the supernatural object, primarily through 
faith. The act of faith is an act of the intellect, and the habit of 
faith is in the intellect as its subject. The elevation of a human 
soul from the purely natural sphere of life into the supernatural 
sphere, when it is consummated, is radically and in principle a 
transfer of the intellect across the infinite space dividing the Un- 
created Essence from all created essence. Its connatural im- 
mediate object is created essence. Its supernatural immediate 
object is the uncreated essence. Faith is between the natural 
knowledge of God derived from his works, and the direct vision 
of his being in the glorified state. It mediates between the nat- 
ural and the glorified states, and therefore partakes of both. As 
partaking with the light of glory it is superior to the light of 
reason, and therefore not derived from it, although not discon- 
nected and separate. It must be infused by grace, because it is 
not a property or quality springing from nature, but superadded, 
and as such can only be given by the Creator of the soul. As 
partaking with the light of nature, i.e., with intelligence and rea- 



.] THE SUPERNATURAL. 211 

son, it is preceded, accompanied, and followed by rational acts, 
which are associated with it, somewhat like the way in which 
intellectual and sensitive cognition are associated together in the 
rational acts of human nature. 

Human reason can attain a sufficient knowledge of natural 
theology to make a certain judgment that veracity is an essential 
attribute of God. Reason can apprehend the motives of the credi- 
bility of the Christian revelation, and draw the conclusion that all 
its contents are divine truths. Further, a man may attain by the 
use of reason a conviction that the Catholic Church teaches un- 
erringly the genuine doctrine of Christianity, and understand 
what that doctrine is. He can know what is meant by the Trin- 
ity, the Incarnation, the supernatural beatitude of heaven. He 
can be convinced, therefore, that all these doctrines are true, 
because they have been revealed by God. In fact, an inquirer 
not yet in possession of the truth he is seeking for, must have the 
conviction that it is reasonable to assent to the Catholic faith, 
before he can be justified in determining his mind to yield that 
assent. 

Moreover, it is reasonable and natural to hope for the fulfil- 
ment of promises made by one who is both good and powerful, 
much more then, when it is God who has made these promises. 

It is natural to love that which is good, in proportion to its 
excellence. It is, therefore, possible, without grace, to make 
acts of the love of God above all things. 

The question is therefore at once suggested: Why is grace 
necessary in order that men may believe, hope, love God, and 
merit heaven? Why 'is not the doctrine of Peiagius true, in- 
stead of being a heresy? And, a fortiori, how can the Semi- 
Pelagian doctrine, that grace is not necessary for initiating the 
work of salvation, but only for completing it, be a heresy ? 

The answer of the Lutheran and the Calvinist is suggested 
by their principle that nature is ruined and helpless through 
original sin, and must therefore be restored by grace. Having 
denied the principle, the answer which is its logical sequence 
must be rejected. Admitting that nature is good, if its line of 
progress and its end are within the natural order, it needs only 
means and aids for development, improvement, ultimate perfec- 
tion, which are proportioned to its natural powers and can be 
made use of by these powers, that is, by the exercise of reason 
and free-will, without any grace which in its entity is supernatu- 
ral. On this supposition, there is no basis for opposing the Pela- 
gian doctrine. 



212 THE SUPERNATURAL. [May, 

But,- according to this view, human reason, left to itself, 
ought to prepare the way directly for revealed religion by 
philosophy and natural religion, to welcome it as the completion 
of philosophy. Christianity ought to have been proclaimed in a 
philosophical manner, and to have made its way by argument. 

Now, in fact, although it is possible for human reason to 
admit the credibility of the Christian facts and doctrines, history 
proves that there has been an obstacle in the way, practically 
insurmountable by any power short of supernatural grace. 
Pagan philosophy was an irreconcilable enemy to the gospel. 
The apostles placed all their reliance on the grace of God for 
bringing men to faith. Why is this ? It is because men who are 
confined within the sphere of naturalism and rationalism recog- 
nize an incongruity between Christianity, and particularly its 
central doctrine that the Son of God became man and was cruci- 
fied, and the entire theory of the universe which they regard as 
philosophical. Their eyes are shut to evidence, and their ears 
.to .argument. Suppose, however, that a man, exercising his 
faculties with perfect rectitude, attains a rational and philosophi- 
cal conviction of all the revealed truths. Why is this rational 
assent not that faith which is capable of germinating hope and 
love, contrition and good works, the righteousness which suffices 
for justification and salvation? Why must grace precede, and 
animate his first salutary acts, and all those which follow? How 
is it that he needs regeneration, sanctifying and actual grace ? 
.how is it that faith is a gift of God. and charity an infused habit ? 

It is because faith is the principle of a new intellectual life 
which is perfected in the immediate intuition of God. Because 
love is the inchoate union with God on terms of a kind of equal- 
ity in a truly filial relation. The intellect has for its object in 
the act of faith something which to a created intellect is the 
Unknowable, the wilian hope and love attains to the same object, 
which is naturally, unattainable. The unknowable can be made 
dimly and indirectly apprehensible to the intellect by inference 
and analogy, through ,a revelation rationally credible. The un- 
attainable good can be appreciated under the generic concept of 
good. But this does not suffice to effect the transit of the soul 
from the ground of mere natural knowledge and love to the 
heaven of divine contemplation and complacency, the super- 
natural life which is begun here in grace and consummated here- 
after in glory. Created nature, even if pure from all sin, is not 
fit for the intimate communion .with God, which is a diminuted 



1889.] THE SUPERNATURAL. 213 

participation in the communion of the Father, the Son, and the 
Holy Spirit, in equality and unity of nature. It must be made 
fit by a change and elevation which make it like God in charac- 
ter, intelligence, and will. In respect to men, who receive their 
being through natural generation, which in the state of original 
righteousness carried with it a right to the gifts of grace, and 
who have lost the first gift of grace by original sin, this change 
is properly called regeneration. The acts which positively pre- 
pare a soul for this gift must proceed from grace, which shuts 
out the Semi-Pelagian doctrine. The permanent habits and 
capacities for eliciting the vital acts of the new, divine life in the 
regenerated subject, are included in the gift of regeneration. 
The Holy Spirit is the sanctifier of the soul, and it is from his 
light and inspiration, with his aid and concurrence, that all 
acts of faith, hope, and charity are elicited. It is the divine 
quality of these acts which makes them meritorious of eternal 
life in God. 

It is not, therefore, because the mind of man is not naturally 
capable of science even in the higher philosophy, that a super- 
natural light of the Holy Spirit is necessary. It is because man 
is called to ascend to a region of contemplation above reason 
and philosophy. It is not because his nature is essentially bad 
that grace is necessary to sanctify it, but because he is called to 
a sanctity superior to all natural rectitude. It is not because his 
will is inert and powerless in the moral order, that grace is 
necessary to enable it to do salutary works. It is because he 
is called to a state in which, by the use of free-will, he may do 
works which have a merit of condignity with a supernatural 
reward. 

The entire supernatural order in which created intelligences 
and created wills are exalted into the sphere of the divine life, is 
purely gratuitous ; transcending all rights and exigencies spring- 
ing from the creative act. The- entire series of means by 
which creatures are conducted to this sublime end, is there- 
fore of grace. The culminating point is the Incarnation ; involv- 
ing the miraculous conception and birth from a Virgin of the 
Son of God ; and because of the irruption of sin, involving his 
redeeming work consummated in dying upon the cross, and his 
resurrection. All other facts and events belonging to superna- 
tural religion are of minor magnitude compared to these and de- 
mand no special reasons for their credibility, if their connection 
with the grand and fundamental principles and facts of Christian- 



214 THE SUPERNATURAL. [May, 

ity is proved with certainty. The true and clear concept of the 
supernatural casts a flood of light upon all parts of revealed 
religion and rational philosophy, and manifests their mutual har- 
monies, obscured by false or defective notions both of nature 
and of grace. 

It is not mere theory, purely transcendental speculation, un- 
verifiable by rational evidence. The resurrection is the guaran- 
tee of its truth and reality, and the entire fabric of the superna- 
tural rests on the ground of nature. 

The illustrious scholar Delitzsch,* presenting the fact of the 
resurrection as the corner-stone of Christian theology, quotes the 
acknowledgments of two rationalists to this effect: " With 
melancholy frankness did Alexander Schweizer, who died on 
the third of July last, put this question in a kindly notice of my 
Apologetics, which appeared in the Protestantische Kirchenzeitung 
for 1862 : 

" l Are we then, by assuming this one event, to abandon the 
entire modern view of the world?' And Heinrich Lang, in the 
Zeitstimmen for 1861, confessed honorably: * So soon as I can 
convince myself of the reality of the resurrection of Christ, this 
absolute miracle, as St. Paul seems to declare it, I shatter the 
modern conception of the world. This breach in the order of 
nature, which I regard as inviolable, would be an irreparable 
.breach in my system, in my whole world of thought.' . . . He 
who acknowledges as history this one miracle will also find it 
not improbable that this is the conclusion of miraculous premises 
and brings miraculous results in its train. . . . The whole work 
of grace, whether in the experience of individuals or in the his- 
tory of mankind, even where it is hidden, is supernatural, and 
therefore miraculous." 

The fact of the resurrection is one which is attested and 
proved in the most irrefragable manner, so that no great fact of 
history is more certain. The. order of nature, in respect to the 
laws of evidence and rational demonstration is as inviolable as it 
is in respect to physical laws, and even much more inviolable. 
There is no breach in the order of nature when it is overruled in 
its positive and contingent modes by the supreme power. But 
there is a terrible breach in it, when those first principles of the 
intellectual and moral order which are founded in a necessity in- 
violable even by God himself, are invaded by scepticism. Reve- 

* See The Expositor \ January, 1889, article " The Deep Gulf between the Old Theology 
and the New," by Rev. Professor Franz Delitzsch, D.D. 



.] THE SUPERNATURAL. 21$ 

lation is so firmly based on reason, and the natural order is so 
inextricably intertwined with the supernatural that neither of 
them can be overturned or eradicated without the destruction of 
the other. 

The highest science cannot be attained without a synthesis of 
the truths of faith with those of reason. Partial theories may be 
evolved by philosophers on the one side, and theologians on the 
other, which are partially true, and each side can bring sound 
arguments to prove their partial truth and refute the errors of 
the other side. Delitzsch and other orthodox Protestants de- 
fend many portions of the supernatural order in a solid and con- 
vincing manner. Yet, it is surprising to see how he can main- 
tain so unhesitatingly those Lutheran conceptions, by which the 
true idea of the supernatural is deformed, and which cannot be 
defended against rationalists. This defect is common to all Pro- 
testant theology. It is true, likewise, that some Catholic theolo- 
gians have failed in clearness and consistency, to a lesser extent. 
Nevertheless, the genuine idea of the supernatural lies at the 
basis of ail Catholic theology, the genuine idea of the natural 
lies at the basis of all Catholic philosophy. All the materials for 
the synthetic science are at hand, and the most clear-sighted ex- 
ponents of philosophy and theology have so presented the rela- 
tions between the natural and the supernatural, that we may say, 
calmly and fearlessly, Faith, seeking the understanding of the 
ways of God to man, has not only sought but found the solution 
of all the great problems in the divine science. 

AUGUSTINE R HEWIT. 



216 PAUL RINGWOOD: AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. [May, 



PAUL RINGWOOD : AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

CHAPTER XXXII. 
PAUL RINGWOOD IS ASKED TO USE HIS INFLUENCE. 

SHORTLY after New-Year's, on one of my visits to Hether- 
ing's house, Robert asked me to go into the little parlor, his mis- 
tress would like to see me before I went up to Harry. Even 
while he was telling- me this Mrs. Hethering came slowly down 
stairs she was in wretched health, poor woman ! meeting me 
at the parlor door. 

When we were seated she said : " I am afraid, Mr. Ring- 
wood, 1 am taking too much on myself, but you have been so 
kind to my boy I feel it my duty to speak to you." 

Her preface annoyed me. Whenever people say they are 
performing a duty in speaking to you it is pretty safe to con- 
clude that they are going to make themselves disagreeable. 

" Pardon me," she continued, " but you are not in corre- 
spondence with your brother?' 

I said that we were not, offering the lame excuse that our 
ways of living were necessarily so unlike that we would not 
know what to write to one another. 

" I am sorry," she said. " Then you have no influence with 
your brother?' 

" No," I replied, " none whatsoever." 

" Then it is useless, my troubling you," said Mrs. Hethering,, 
trying in vain to conceal that something troubled her. I sug- 
gested that were she to tell me what she wanted done, I might 
be able to help her. After thinking a moment she asked : " Do 
you know, Mr. Ringwood, that Mr. Hethering wishes your 
brother and his sister to marry ? ' 

Surely, I thought, she is not going to ask me to further Heth- 
ering's wishes. I merely bowed my head, intimating that she 
was to proceed. 

" Such a marriage could bring nothing but the greatest 
misery to Miss Hethering ; can you not induce your brother to 
see this ? ' Mrs. Hethering spoke very excitedly. I controlled 
myself sufficiently to say calmly : " But suppose Miss Hethering 
is attached to my brother ? ' 



.] PAUL RING WOOD : AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 217 

Mrs. Hethering's face flushed, and she exclaimed : " She dis- 
likes him beyond measure! that is, in the light of a husband. 
Pray, forgive my warmth." 

Mrs. Hethering need not have asked for my forgiveness. 

" My brother, is he very anxious for this ? ' I faltered. 

" This is what I do not understand," returned Mrs. Hether- 
ing. " I do not believe that he loves her, yet he writes urging 
this marriage. Elsie is altogether dependent on her brother; she 
has nothing of her own. She has put Mr. Ringwood off for a 
long while. Were she to say decidedly no to him, I fear it 
would cause trouble of a very serious nature. It pains me much 
to speak of this, but were there to be a falling out between Elsie 
and my husband, I would lose the best friend I have. She 
would not be permitted to come here. It is for my sake she has 
not long ago put an end to this affair. Of course, Miss Hether- 
ing is not to know that I have spoken to you ; but cannot you 
influence your brother, Mr. Ringwood?' 

I told Mrs. Hethering, sadly enough, that my speaking to 
my brother would only make matters worse ; that and who was 
to blame I would not say we were on anything but friendly 
terms ; and then I spoke very earnestly for myself of Elsie, hint- 
ing at the state of my feelings. 

"I understand," said Mrs. Hethering, "and I am very sorry 
for you. Even were it not otherwise hopeless, Mr. Hethering 
would never consent. Perhaps I have not been altogether can- 
did. There is a certain sum of money for Miss Hethering, pro- 
vided she marries as her brother wishes. You would not wish 
her to be a pauper? Put this thought aside, Mr. Ringwood. 
Shall we go to Harry ? He is waiting for you." And she rose 
from her chair. 

"This is all, Mrs. Hethering?' I asked. 

" Yes, I think so ; no there is nothing else." 

Then I went to Harry. 

Mrs. Hethering never again spoke to me as she had spoken 
on this day. I worried much, and every time I went to see 
Harry I dreaded an announcement of a marriage to take place. 

I frequently saw Elsie, though there was a month when she 
was away on a visit a visit she said she did not wish to pay. 
This visit was the cause of my first confidential conversation 
with her. Mrs. Hethering was not in the room, Harry had 
fallen asleep in his easy-chair. 

" You know that I am going to New York on a visit?' she 



2i8 PAUL RING WOOD: AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. [May, 

broke a silence to ask. Yes, 1 knew it, I said, and wondered 
would she meet Elbert there. 

" It is a very painful thing to speak of, but I have a favor to 
ask of you," she said thoughtfully. I ventured to hope that she 
did not find it painful to ask a favor of me. 

" Please do not ! ' she protested. " I thought you were above 
idle compliments." 

I had certainly never given her any. 

" You know from poor Harry," she went on, " that my 
brother is not a good husband to Mrs. Hethering. He is not 
expected home, but if he does come I should be here. He is 
gentler with poor Ethel when I am by. What I wish is this, 
Mr. Ringwood : should my brother return whilst I am away, 
please let me know. Do not write ; telegraph for me. Ethel is in 
no state to bear up against any new harshness. Sometimes I 
think she will die before Harry," she finished sadly. 

I promised eagerly to do as she asked, adding timidly that 
there was nothing she could ask of me I would not do. My 
words were unheeded. She was writing an address on a card, 
which, when written, she handed me. Mrs. Hethering just then 
returning to the room prevented further confidences. 
* 

CHAPTER XXXIII. 
THE DEATH OF HARRY. 

When the winter was gone, and the first days of spring had 
come, Harry went back to bed, this time to stay. To use Dr. 
Stancy's hackneyed metaphor, the flame no longer burned steady 
and low. It flickered and flared. There would be days of 
brightness, followed by days when the light seemed about to go 
out lor ever. One glorious Thursday in May the flame flared 
up very high indeed. Harry was raised on his pillows, gazing 
with great content on a bowl of daisies Foley had sent up to the 
sick-room. His mother was telling him how beautiful the park 
must now be, and, with what wild hope in her heart I do not 
know, was planning an excursion to the oak groves, an excursion 
in which Harry was to be the central figure. 

He patiently acquiesced in all his mother said. He never 
spoke to her of dying. To do so, he knew, would make her sad. 
But to-day he spoke of heaven, speaking of it as a place where 
one does not get tired. " You know, mamma, I always get tired 
when we walk in the park," he said. 



u 
It 



1 889.] PA UL RING WOOD : AN A UTOBIOGRAPHY. 2 1 9 

Mrs. Hethering turned from the bed with so white a face 
that I hastily offered her some iced water from the cooler stand- 

tf 

ing by. She drank it, trembling. Harry watched her, and 
when she was putting down the goblet he said that he was 
thirsty. 

I'll get some fresh water," his mother said. 
No," he said eagerly, " that'll do! ' When he had drained 
the glass he proceeded: "Don't you remember, mamma, the 
picture in the history, the knight and lady drinking from the 
same goblet? Now, I'm your knight." And he laughed merrily 
at his conceit. 

Presently he began to croon very low "Jerusalem the 
golden," his mother standing behind him to hide the tears run- 
ning down her cheeks. 

" You sing it, mamma," he pleaded. 

To my great surprise, in a low, clear voice, and sweetly, Mrs. 
Hethering sang the melody of the grand old mediaeval hymn. 
While she sang he fell into a peaceful sleep, and his mother sat 
by him, her head bowed in her hands. There came into the 
room at that moment Elsie Hethering, and going to where I 
sat gazing sadly at Harry, she took my hand in hers and en- 
treated with much earnestness, her face very sorrowful, " Pray, 
pray God to spare Harry to his mother ! ' 

As she held my hand the door opened, and Hethering stood 
on the threshold, smilingly looking at us. Elsie dropped my 
hand, and the mother hurried noiselessly across the room, saying 
to him under her breath : " You must not go near Harry ! ' 

" And why not? ' he asked, still smiling. 

"He is dying." 'r H -" 

There was no outward sign of what it cost Mrs. Hethering 
to pronounce those words. She stood erect, her arms out- 
stretched to bar his entrance. 

1(1 He has been dying for a long while," he said with a sneer ; 
" perhaps it is not so bad as you say." 

" Mamma ! mamma ! ' came in interruption from the bed. 
In a moment the mother was by her son, her arms about him, 
his about her neck, Harry frightenedly sobbing, the mother 
moaning and calling on God not to let her boy suffer. I was 
trying to think of a way to get the man away from the room 
when he said, as courteously as if he were asking me to take a 
glass of wine : " Mr. Ringwood, can you spare me a few minutes 
in the library?" 

I bowed my head slightly in assent and followed as he led 



220 PAUL RINGWOOD : AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. [May, 

the way, not in the least wondering what he had to say to me. 
In my mind was no room for any thought but that of pity for 
the suffering of those poor women. 

" Let us go into the alcove," he said when we reached the 
library ; " it is pleasanter there." 

Lazily throwing himself into an arm-chair, Hethering begged 
me to be seated. He gazed so long and so smilingly at me that, 
out of patience, I exclaimed roughly : " Well, what is it you want 
of me?" 

He laughed as if I had said something witty. " You are a 
sad dog, I fear, my friend," was his rejoinder. 

" I am not your friend ! " I cried honestly. 

" Don't you pronounce too hastily on that score," he re- 
turned sharply. 

For the moment I was positively happy at having made him 
show his temper. He impatiently bit his nether lip, then asked 
sweetly : " When I entered my son's room a few moments ago 
was Miss Hethering extolling my virtues? ' 

" She was asking me to pray to God that Harry be spared to 
his mother," I answered bluntly. 

Raising his hands and joining the tips of his fingers, Hether- 
ing said admiringly : " Upon my soul, Mr. Ringwood, you and 
Miss Hethering are wonderfully sly " 

Beside myself, I cried out " You scoundrel ! ' and aimed a 
blow at his face, which he dodged, and my fist came full force 
against a Parian statuette, sending it to the floor, where it broke 
to pieces. The library door opened, and Robert discreetly 
put in his head to see what could be the matter. 

" Something has been upset, Robert ; come in when I ring, 
and you can clear away the litter," said his master, who, though 
slightly pale, was perfectly self-possessed. Robert closed the 
door after him, and Hethering turned to me. " You are very 
violent," he remonstrated. " Don't you see that your behavior 
is apt to cause a scandal ? Be seated and listen to what I have 
to say, I beg of you." 

His coolness cowed me. Besides, he spoke the truth. I sat 
down and waited to hear what he had to say. After a short 
pause he spoke with an audacity that was simply appalling. 

"If you were my sister's gallant," he said, "it would not 
trouble me in the least. In fact, you are her lover, and perhaps 
you are the cause of her not seeing the fitness of certain plans I 
had for her welfare. If she wishes to be a pauper, I'll not lay a 
straw in her way." 






.] PAUL RING WOOD: AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 221 

He paused here, and I said, disagreeable as it was to speak to 
him of it, that it was true his sister was very dear to me, but no 
word of my love had ever been spoken to her. 

Hethering laughed. " He never told his love a new ver- 
sion ! " he said ; continuing, " I did not ask you here to talk of 
that. I wish to speak to you about your brother Bert. A 
charming fellow, Bert ; an admirable penman." 

Hethering moistened his lips, as if they needed to be made 
more pliable to shape the words he had yet to utter. I can re- 
call distinctly the sickening feeling I had of evil to be told, and 
how to my sight Hethering's face became blurred, and how I 
strove to believe him a liar and could not. 

"A short time ago," he proceeded, " Bert took it into his 
head to write my name on a check. It may gratify you to 
know that he made a very good imitation of my signature. He 
could not borrow, his principal cannot be touched for two years, 
and I was bothering him for money he owed me. So he took 
a strictly original way of paying his debt. That 'is, he forged 
my name, and I was to pay myself. He has paid me out of his 
own pocket, Mr. Ringwood, but I hold the forged check." 

He again paused, and, as the full meaning of what he had 
said came to me, I felt myself shrinking before his steady gaze, 
the malicious cruelty of the man's nature staring at me in his 
eyes. 

"Mr. Ringwood," he went on to say, "you grossly insulted 
me a few moments ago. It would give me much pleasure to 
hear you beg rny pardon." 

Beg his pardon ! I could not speak. He took my silence for 
a refusal to do what in reality he had commanded ; for, what- 
ever his words were, his tone and manner were imperative, and 
all the brute in him came out in force. 

" You, a penniless pedlar of A, B, C, the brother of a man 
who has but my mercy to thank that he is not a convict you 
want to marry my sister?" he said insolently and deliberately. 
You should be made beg my pardon on your knees. I deal 
easily with you, but as for your brother, I'll drain him of every 
cent he has." 

In the interval made by his stopping to adjust his cravat, 
which had come untied, it came to my mind that his anger and 
melodramatic way of speaking was, in part, assumed for a pur- 
pose. Before I had time to determine whether I was right or 
wrong in this conjecture he proceeded : " Now, no whimpering ; 
you've got to! Begin: Most humbly " 



222 PA&L RINGWOOD : AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. [May, 

At this moment came a fearful cry, the running- of many feet, 
and then the library door was burst open by a trembling, weep- 
ing 1 maid-servant, who cried: "O Marster Ringwood ! Mars' 
Harry am dead, he am dead ! ' Then she went away, still crying. 

"Death is a great softener of men's hearts." I think for a 
moment Hetherinor was softened. I bent over him and said in 

<~j * 

a husky voice: "Your boy was very dear to me, Mr. Hethering; 
may I go to see him, dead?' 

" Why not ? " he asked bitterly. " The servant informed you, 
not me. Yes, go ; and if there is anything to be done, I wish 
you would see to it." Then he cursed his " luck" for bringing 
him home that day. 

A group of weeping servants were outside Harry's door. As 
they made way for me to enter, one of them, it was Robert, 
whispered me: " Mrs. Hethering takes it very bad, sah." 

Elsie was trying to comfort the mother kneeling by her boy 
at rest, gently smoothing back his hair. Mrs. Hethering looked 
up at me with dry eyes and said : " Almost at the last he asked 
for you, Mr. Ringwood. I could not tell him where you were. 
You know he murdered Harry ! Yes," she cried out, helplessly 
wringing her hands, " let all the world know it, put it in public 
print, Tom Hethering murdered my boy Harry " She stopped 
abruptly, her eyes falling on the bowl of daisies. It would have 
been better to see her weep than to see that wistful smile on her 
face as she said : " Elsie, was he not glad, this morning, of the 
daisies? See, I'll put them all about him.*' And suiting the 
action to the word, she put the flowers about his pillow and be- 
tween his hands. " Pretty boy ! Mamma's darling ! ' And stoop- 
ing she called softly : " Harry ! Harry ! ' stopping bewilderedly 
to turn to Elsie and say : " They said he'd give me money, a 
grand house, and save my father, but they didn't tell me he'd 
kill my child, take away my all he died before he was born, 
killed in his mother's womb. The flowers will wither before we 
bury him. Robert ! Robert ! ' she called, and when he came in 
haste, "Robert, fresh flowers for Master Harry quick! quick !' 

She leaned exhausted in Elsie's arms, shedding no tears, look- 
ing vacantly before her. 

"Has any one gone for the doctor?' I asked of the old 
negress who had been constantly with Harry Curing his sick- 
ness. 

" No, marster," she answered, drying her tears with her long 
apron. 

"Send for him immediately," I ordered. Then I asked Elsie 



1889.] PAUL RINGWOOD : AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 223 

if she could not get Mrs. Hethering to go to her room. To my 
surprise, Mrs. Hethering made no difficulty about doing what 
Elsie asked of her. "Yes, yes," she said, " I'll do anything ; I'll 
obey; only don't let him come near me. I can't bear now to 
hear him say Harry is dead, for he'll be glad." Then she let 
Elsie lead her away. When I looked for Hethering he had left 
the house. As he had asked me to, I saw to the making of the 
immediate preparations for the funeral. 

* 

CHAPTER XXXIV. 
DOCTOR STANCY. 

Then I hurried to the college to let Father Lang know of 
Harry's death. He was not surprised ; he had seen the boy in 
the morning and had done what he could to prepare him for the 
end. "The fact is, he needed no preparing; he was ready," said 
Father Lang. 

Having told him of the state Mrs. Hethering was in, how I 
had been left the management of affairs, I took up my hat to re- 
turn to Hethering's house. 

" It is all very odd, Ringwood," said Father Lang ; " I don't 
understand it. However, if you are needed, let me know ; I'll 
have some one take your class for a day." 

I thanked him warmly for the favor he showed me, and asked 
him if he would officiate at the funeral. 

" I suppose," he answered, taking his breviary to resume the 
office I had interrupted. My first question to Robert when he 
admitted me into the house, in the fortunes of which I had so 
strange a part, was, had Hethering returned. 

" Yes, sah," Robert answered. " He consultated with the doc- 
tah, and made his depa'tchur agen. He am debarrassed very 
much, am Marster Hethering." 

" Is Doctor Stancy here now ? ' I asked. 

Scarcely had I spoken when the doctor poked his head out 
of the door of the little parlor and beckoned me to him. Doctor 
Stancy was tall, raw-boned, the owner of one of the kindliest of 
faces, now with a troubled and severe look on it. He was much 
looked up to by physicians at home and abroad. Like myself, a 
convert; a widower of long standing; rich, though, as the say- 
ing is, he gave away with both hands. He was gradually giving 
up his practice, and some people said he was about to enter a 
religious order. The truth is, he was devoted to his science, 



224 'PAUL RING WOOD : AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY, [May 

and wished to have more time for his experiments. He had a 
sister who was "as like him as two peas in a pod." 

" Young man/' the doctor said when he had closed the door 
and we were seated, " what is the meaning of this new trouble 
between Hethering and his sister? You seem to be at the bot- 
tom of it." 

Not inclined to confide in Dr. Stancy, not liking the manner 
in which he spoke to me, I said : " If Mr. Hethering has been 
complaining of his sister, all I can say is, I am sorry that he has 
not more delicacy." 

" You are very young ! ' exclaimed the doctor contemptu- 
6usly. " Hethering has not complained to me ; he has simply 
asked me to remind you that he has put his affairs into your 
hands. He's off, and good riddance. Nice brute, refusing to be 
present at his son's funeral ! ' 

" Doctor," I began. 

'* Don't interrupt me," he cried irascibly. " Do you know 
that Mrs. Hethering is very ill ? ' 

I answered that I did, that it^was I who had sent for him. 

" Do you know what is the matter with her?" he asked. 

No, I said, but I feared for her brain. 

"It is her brain," he rejoined. "She is down with brain- 
fever, and, from what she says, a nice muddle you have gotten 
Elsie Hethering into with her brother." 
, " It cannot be," I exclaimed; "there is some mistake.'' 

" Yes," he retorted, " there has been a mistake made. You 
need tell me nothing " I had made an attempt to speak " Elsie 
cannot marry you ; it is a great pity that you have permitted 
yourself to become infatuated with her. What have you to 
offer but a life of struggling with poverty, a life her training has 
not fitted her for? She's a good girl, has intelligence enough, 
and, had she been put in leading-strings, would make a well- 
balanced woman" the doctor was given to mixed metaphor. 
" It is a great pity no one warned you before you lost your head 
altogether." 

" I had been warned, I knew my danger, and I went on 
seeing her, my eyes wide open." 

" And, with your clear vision, did you not perceive that you 
might as well hope to marry the Princess of China as Elsie 
Hethering?' he asked dryly. 

I began to protest with much heat, when he interrupted me 
peremptorily. " Stop ! My advice is you won't take it, no one 
ever takes advice to forget Elsie Hethering. Your coming here 



1889.] PAUL RING WOOD : AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 225 

can only make more trouble for two much-tried women. I'll 
attend to things here; don't you think me capable?' I hypo- 
critically pretended that as Hethering had asked me to attend to 
the arrangement of the funeral, it would be better for me to try 
to please him. 

" If Tom Hethering has any other reason in asking this of 
you than to get a handle to plunge these women into deeper 
trouble I'll be hung ! ' exclaimed Dr. Stancy. To do Hether- 
ing justice, I believe the doctor was wrong. Hethering wished 
to rid himself of an unpleasant duty, and for this purpose made 
use of the first person at hand. 

The occurrences of the day had upset me. Dr. Stancy's in- 
terference in my affairs appeared a piece of impertinent med- 
dling, and I said roughly : " I do not see how it can interest you 
whether I marry Elsie Hethering or not." 

" Don't be a consummate ass, Ringwood," he retorted. 
" You want the whole truth ; you shall have it ; and it's a conso- 
lation to know that it won't be palatable. Elsie Hethering has 
said to me, and very positively, too, that she'll never marry you, 
and she is much annoyed that any one supposes such a thing 
possible There! there! Don't mind her; forget her; no 
woman is worth that ! Fie ! Paul, fie ! ' 

I had turned my back to him, and much more distinct to my , 
sense of hearing was the clipping of Foley's scissors cutting 
flowers for Harry than any words of the doctor's. Just then 
Robert came in to tell the doctor that his coupe was at the 
door. 

" All right, coming,'* he said shortly, and then proposed 
taking me with him to the college. " Brother Gordon is sick, 
needs watching at night. You don't rest well " I wondered 
did he know things by intuition " suppose you sit up with him? 
There are any number of things to be done ; it will make you 
forget yourself." 

Liking the idea, I thanked him for it, and said that I would 
take the night watch. 

" Now, Paul," said the doctor as we drove down Charles 
Street, " try to be reasonable about this affair. Forget it all. 
Believe me, in a year from now you will wonder what there is 
in Elsie Hethering to have made you fall in love with her." 

I assented for the sake of peace. I was tired of hearing him 
talk. He reminded me of the dentist who had assured me that 
extracting my tooth would not hurt me. I don't suppose a 

pagan priest of Mexico thought much of the torture he inflicted 
VOL. XLIX. 15 



226 PAUL RINGWOOD : AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. [May, 

when he tore the heart from the living body of his quivering 
victim. 

CHAPTER XXXV. 
A COMMENCEMENT AND AN ENDING. 

The hours of class were blessed to me ; they went quickly, 
and the wonder to me is that men call work a curse. Doing my 
share of watching the sick brother helped the other hours. In 
the rest I had to strive, not very earnestly following Dr. Stancy's 
advice. One day I met Father Lang coming from a visit to 
Mrs. Hethering. He stopped .to tell me that she was slowly re- 
covering, adding : " That sister of Hethering's is a noble girl. 
Her devotion to Mrs. Hethering is something beautiful. If ever 
a girl was fond of pleasure, Elsie Hethering is fond of it ; yet 
all her time is spent in the sick-room of a wretched, broken- 
hearted woman, whose only charm now is her great patience. 
How the death of little Harry has changed that house ! ' he ex- 
claimed before going on his way. 

I blushed with pleasure because of his praise of Elsie, and 
would gladly have questioned him concerning her ; but then I 
was trying to forget, and so denied myself. 

There was nothing I dreaded so much as the vacations. 
There were moments when I could scarcely restrain myself from 
giving vent to the anger I felt towards my poor lads for looking 
so eagerly to the holidays. There were times when I was not 
so cruel as to grudge them their innocent happiness. They were 
good lads, very patient with me, and they needed to be, for I 
pushed them very hard. Not that I regret this pushing. They 
profited by it. 

I was told that nothing had been heard of Hethering during 
this time. As he had absented himself from his son's burial, so 
he left unanswered the letters he received informing him of his 
wife's illness. His staying away from home caused no one to 
wonder. His time for years had been spent in the Grain City ; 
it was supposed that he gambled in stocks. In thinking of him 
there was room for naught but thankfulness that he left his wife 
so much alone. Commencement day, for a faithful teacher, is 
full of business of the pleasantest kind. Like a fresh baby, which 
is superior to each and every baby born before it, the new com- 
mencement day surpasses all preceding ones. We all said that 
the Latin play and the scene from " Hamlet" were magnificent 
performances. There is no doubt that they were no worse than 



1889.] PAUL RINGWOOD: AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 22; 

college boys' performances usually are. Bobby Osborne, who 
graduated A.B. that night, made a remarkable Hamlet. Jealousy 
rankled in the bosom of many of the fellows because of the 
many flowers Bobby received. Lane, the champion pitcher of 
our Y. A. B. B. C., said Osborne must be " flush of tin " to pro. 
cure so many bouquets. Lane is of a sour disposition, and 
Jimmy House quite shut him up when he cried: " Osborne 
bought hardly any ! Guess I ought to know ; I got 'em for him." 

The awarding of prizes and conferring of degrees was a 
grand success. Provided none of the prizes be forgotten, as I 
once knew them to be, no matter how it is gotten through, this 
part of a commencement always is a success. The "banquet " 
after the play the boys declared to be tip-top. I have no doubt 
but that it was. There were any amount of good things, and 
the gravest pretence at having wine two kinds, if you please. 
Each of the young gentlemen had two thimbles of wine-glasses, 
which at long stages wer ( e twice filled. u Quite a heady wine, 
this," one oldster of fifteen declared. A wild rumor spread that 
the cellarer had not been allowed to baptize the wine ; but one 
of the chemistry class, a youth of prodigious learning, infallibly 
and, which is the same thing, scientifically proved that the wine 
had been, disdaining our slang, watered. Wilkes was his name r 
and Jimmy House said to me in confidence : " I'd like to punch 
Wilkes' head off." v,, w,^ 

Osborne, the big man of the evening, remarked that he was 
under great obligations to Mr. Wilkes for his lecture, and that 
had he, Osborne, the time, he'd prove Mr. Wilkes' brain to be 
watered. Immediately good humor was restored, and the youth 
of the heady wine, who had been somewhat abashed by Wilkes' 
science, again found pleasure in holding his glass between the 
light and his merry eyes. 

" What do you see to smile at in your glass ?' I asked him. 

" I was thinking how glad mother'll be I've got this.*' And he 
laid his finger on the medal pendent at his buttonhole. Our boys 
in Terra Maria are proud of their mothers. 

The banquet is ended, " Laudate" is sung, and the echoes are 
sweet and plaintive up among the refectory rafters. For all, and 
by all, three cheers and a tiger are given, and farewells are said 
to Manresa for a time, and for ever. On my way to my room I 
heard some one calling my name. It was the porter, with a letter 
for me. " The colored man left it, and I could not see you till 
now," the porter said. Before I could inquire what colored 
man the porter was off. Not that I needed to ask. I knew the 



228 PAUL RING WOOD : AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. [May, 

handwriting of the address, the irregular, straggling letters. 
Lighting the burner above my table, I hastily tore open the 
envelope. It enclosed but a line : 

" If you can conveniently do so, will you call on me between 
five and six this evening ? ELSIE HETHERING." 

This was all it said. It was quite a while before I remem- 
bered that " between five and six this evening" had passed hours 
ago. I determined to go to her as early on the morrow as I 
decently could. That night whatever sleep I had was taken in 
my chair, and I no longer strove to forget Elsie. 

CHAPTER XXXVI. 
A PATIENT WOMAN. 

I was dressed and ready to go out when the milkmen were 
'blowing their horns ; still waiting, nervously, when the ice-carts 
were abroad. A hot, sultry morning, the sun already at his work 
of brick-baking, trying to make an impression on the monument. 
When at last the sprinkler came along the street, with its refresh- 
ing splash of water later in the day it would make the bricks 
hiss I started on my way to Hethering's house. 

Robert showed himself very glad to see me. " You ah a 
stranger, sah," he said. " Mighty lonesome heah, now Marster 
Harry am gone, an' missis melancholy like she goin' to die her- 
se'f, an' never seein' no one ; no one comin', nohow, 'ceptin' Doc- 
tah Stancy ; he comes reg'lar." Not caring to meet the doctor, 
I asked at what time he generally made his visits. 

"He an't got no reg'lar time, sah," said Robert; t( sometimes 
mawnin' ; jus 's like eveninV 

! I waited in the little parlor for her, and when she came in 
and held out her hand to me I saw in her face that something 
was making her wretched. 

" Breakfast is still on the table," she said when we had shaken 
hands ; " perhaps you have not breakfasted ? ' 

" Oh, no ! thank you," I replied, not very lu.cidly. Adding, 
" I know it is very* early " 

" I did not mean that," she interrupted ; " I would have been 
glad had you come earlier, I am so anxious. You could not 
come yesterday ? ' 

I told her at what time I had gotten her note, and how it 
came that it was so late before it was delivered. 

"Shall we sit down? I did not know it was commencement 
day at the college/' She hesitated a moment, then went on to 



1889.] PAUL RINGWJOD: AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 229 

ask: " Why did you send Mrs. Hethering that message? Why 
not come and tell her or me ?" 

" Message?" I faltered. 

" Well, letter, note anything. Oh ! why do you worry me 
so? " she cried helplessly. " Tell me what you know about it." 

I began to think my wits were leaving me. Could I have 
written Mrs. Hethering without knowing it? " I am sorry," I 
said lamely, " but I don't know what you mean." 

" Why do you take pleasure in mystifying us? I thought 
you were our friend," she said with subdued emotion. 

I did not say that she was making me miserable, I did not ask 
her to explain herself. I only said : " I am your friend." She 
was searching for something in her pocket. Having found it, 
she handed me a folded sheet of note-paper. " This letter," she 
said, " tell me what it means." Taking the letter from her, I 
opened it and read, in what appeared to be my handwriting : 

" Are you aware that your husband is obtaining a divorce ? 
It is a great shame, but as he is a registered citizen of Grain 
City, he can do this without consulting you. I take the trouble 
of telling you this because I hate your husband. Stop him, if 
you can." 

It was abominable in all things, even to being unsigned. 

Handing it back to her, I said : "I know nothing of this. 
You cannot think I wrote it?' 

" It is in your hand," she said. 

She looked so woebegone that her casting a doubt on my 
word did not hurt me in the least. 

" No," I said gently, " I did not write it, nor do I know 
whether the writer is correct in what he says. I can tell you 
who did write it my brother Elbert ; our hands are much the 



same.' 



" Your brother ! I thought he and my brother were great 
friends." 

Of course I did not think so. Neither did I think it needful 
to speak then of my brother's shame. This miserable letter was 
shame enough. I merely said : " Probably they have quarrelled. 
Need I tell you how sorry I am that Elbert has written in this 
way ? " 

" There is nothing to be sorry about," she rejoined, trying to 
smile. " Mrs. Hethering should know. Who has a better right ? 
1 am glad, though, you did not write it. Do you believe what 
he says to be true ? ' 

I did think Elbert told the truth, and said so. 






230 PAUL RINGWOOD; AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. [May, 

" Can he is it possible for him to divorce her in this man- 
ner?" she asked, nervously twining and untwining her fingers. 
My knowledge of the laws concerning divorce was but hazy. I 
believed that in South Carolina divorces were not granted, and 
I knew that in Illinois and some of the New England States there 
was a frightful laxity in the granting of divorces. I did not 
think it possible for Hethering to get a divorce for no other 
reason than that he wished one. When I had told her all this 
she said simply: " I don't know how he could find any cause of 
offence in poor, patient Ethel. My brother is bad enough, but 
I don't believe he could find it in his heart to disgrace his wife." 

Having no confidence in Hethering's heart, I could say noth- 
ing that would afford her any consolation. I was silent for so 
long a time that Elsie said gently : u I am waiting for you to 
speak ; can you suggest something to be done, if what this letter 
says be true ? ' 

"A lawyer might be seen," I said; "he could investigate the 
matter. But if it is true that Mr. Hethering is seeking a divorce, 
only a lawyer can help Mrs. Hethering. Does she know of this 
letter?" 

" Yes ; and if my brother succeeds in what it is said he is 
attempting, his wife will go mad. You look surprised ; 1 am not 
romancing when I say this. Her brain has been so weakened 
I dare not think of the consequences of a shock that would be 
greater than that of Harry's death." 

Then there settled on her face a shadow that aged her, and 
the occasional twitching of her nether lip showed the pain she 
was in. Softly she beat with one hand on the arm of her chair, 
and once she sighed deeply. Seeing her in this distress, 1 quite 
lost all control over 'myself, and cried, " Elsie, dearest Elsie, I 
will help" 

She put up her hand to hush me, a faint glow of color suf- 
fusing her face. Staring at me with large eyes that pitied me, 
she said : " I am very sorry for this. You were right, you can- 
not help in this matter. It would only irritate my brother 
the more against his wife and myself did he hear of your inter- 
fering with his plans." 

Striking my hands together softly, I repeated that I would 
help her all I could. It was then that I asked Elsie if she could 
not find it in herself to consent to be my wife. 

She 'told me simply, in few words, that she could not think 
of marrying. As long as Mrs. Hethering lived she would be 



.] PAUL RING WOOD: AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 231 

needed by her. I told her that I would wait. Could she give 
me no hope ? 

" I cannot tell you to hope," Elsie said. " And now I'll have 
to go to Ethel. Indeed I am sorry if I cause you unhappiness. 
You will forget all this, and then it will be as before. Good- 
by," arid, smiling, she put out her hand. I held it tight for a 
moment, and then hurried back to the college ; glad to get away 
from my fellow-beings, I locked myself within my room. 

Next day I went to a farm-house on the bay, before leaving 
Cecilsburg sending my address to her should it be needed. 



CHAPTER XXXVII. 
JACK GREENE'S VENTURE. 

The pretty Severn flows by Richard Greene's farm, where I 
had gone to spend the summer. A row to Miller's Island, or 
around the points to St. Margaret's, or a drive to Arnold's store 
for mail which seemed never to come to any one, helped to quicken 
the spending. Sometimes of a moonlight night we, young Jack 
Greene and myself, would row far out into the bay to see the 
beauty of silver sails at sea, to follow for a while the track of 
the Annapolis boat, tossing in the little tempest raised by its 
wheels. 

On these longer trips in Jack's boat, Elisabeth, the name a 
gorgeous scarlet on ultramarine, we would take with us a basket 
of provisions, seek some quiet inlet where we could land, 
and take our supper. One evening we were stretched on a 
sandy bank taking a moonshine bath, after what had been a most 
satisfactory meal of cold chicken and bottled cider, sparkling as 
champagne. Gazing at the blinking stars, I was beginning to 
blink myself when Jack roused me by asking what I could tell 
him about New Mexico. 

* All that I can tell you, Jack, is not much. It has a fine 
climate, I've read, and sheep-raising is the principal occupation 
of the inhabitants," was my answer, partly in the jargon of the 
class. " Are you interested in the Territory?' 

" I'm goin' to live there," responded Jack sententiously. 

" What on earth are you going to do there ?" I exclaimed. 
Jack gave his athletic body a roll over, bringing his head up, 
resting on his palms, his honest iace turned to mine. 

" You see, Mr. Ringwood," he said, " dad's got four more 
bo}S 'sides me, an' what's that bit of a farm of his'n worth, any- 



232 PAUL RINGWOOD: AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. [May, 

how ? Some of us have got to make tracks, an 5 it an't no more 
than fair I, bein' the eldest, make a start. Bill Sanders made a 
good lump off sheep less'n no time, an' he wrote Jim Blake up 
to St. Margaret's they want likely fellows out there. I don't 
believe as there's any likelier nor me." And Jack, with innocent 
vanity, glanced sideways at his outstretched form, that looked 
uncommonly well in the moonlight. 

"But what will you do there?' I persisted. " Turn shep- 
herd ? " 

" That's better'n loafin'," retorted Jack. I could but agree 
with him, and said so. 

"After a bit/' Jack continued,"! might get a ranch of my 
own they call farms ranches out there lan's cheap, an' for the 
matter of that, so's sheep. They sell 'em at a big profit to the 
Eastern markets ; that's where the jingle comes in. Dad, he's 
offered to help me, but I an't sure's I'll let him ; it's tight enough 
with him as 'tis. Elizabeths my own ; I'll sell her." And Jack 
sighed and affectionately eyed his boat stretching her chain and 
bobbing on the water. 

" I don't just suppose you want to buy her, do you, Mr. 
Ringwood?' he asked with much hesitation; adding, "I'd like 
some one as 'ud not knock spots out of her to get Elisabeth." I 
did not want a boat, but I thought of my little fortune lying idle, 
and began to consider impulsively if I could do better than lend 
Jack a part of it. After a short pause I said : " I don't want to 
buy your boat, but I might be able to help you in another 
way." 

Americans are generous as the sun, and yet they are particu- 
larly obtuse when there is a question of any one helping them 
with money. 

" Getting faxs about the country ? Well, if you would/' re- 
turned Jack, not very enthusiastically. 

I assured him that I meant nothing of the kind. " Pecuni- 
arily, Jack," I explained. For all that Jack sneered at what he 
called a jaw-breaker, he understood the word I used. " I don't 
just think, Mr. Ringwood, I'd better begin on charity," he said. 

" If you talk in that way, Jack Greene." I cried, grasping his 
arm, " Til toss you head over heels into the water." As if to 
show the absurdity of my threat, Jack threw off my hand as 
lightly as if it were one of the bay mosquitoes. 

" When I ask for money it's time enough for them as has 
money to offer it," Jack grumbled. 

He made me take the best medicine in the world, a good 



1889.]^ PAUL RINGWOOD : AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 233 

laugh. My laugh out, I explained that I would lend him money 
to buy and stock a ranch, saying, to quiet any scruple he might 
have about borrowing, that such a likely fellow as he would be 
no time paying me back. And I firmly believed that he would. 
It was so long before Jack spoke that I was about to repeat 
my proposition, thinking I was not clearly understood, when he 
said dreamily : " It's so sudden ! I don't right away know how 
to say I'm thankful. I just think, Mr. Paul Ringwood, you'll 
understand if I tell you, that your doing this '11 make it pos'ble 
for me to marry Bessy Worth in a year or so. I 'most thought 
I'd have to give her up ; not that I'd ever ! " this last with a 
snap of his teeth. 

" You must not sell the Elizabeth, Jack," I said in a senti- 
mental mood. " You should keep it for your children." 

He said that was a boss notion of mine ; he'd stick to it. 
Then, still talking of Jack's venture, we got ready for our row 
home. As we passed a lonely farm-house on our way up the 
Severn Jack sung in stentorian tones " Little stars are brightly 
shining," stopping in his song to give a loud halloo when, for a 
moment, a light was shown in a window. 

" Bessy's folks live there," said the serenader. That night I 
slept like a top, rising next morning long after the family had 
breakfasted. Whilst I was taking my coffee Mrs. Greene came 
in, ostensibly to see if I needed anything. When she had wiped 
some purely imaginary dust from a plate and had remarked, 
44 There's one thing about our dust " Terra Maria dust, not the 
dust of the Greenes' " you knows when you swallers it, it's 
thet gritty," I asked her would she sit down for company's 
sake. 

Mrs. Greene was a portly old lady, with the placidest of eyes 
and whitest of hair. Fidgetting about it, she seated herself and 
blurted out after an inward struggle, making itself seen in the 
redness of her face and heard in her gasps for breath : " Mr. 
Ringwood, Jack has been tellin' me an* Richard of the noble 
promise you hev made him. He's mighty awkward, Jack, but 
he's grateful, sure's you're settin' there, an' Richard and me's the 
same " 

Interrupting her, I begged her to say nothing more about 
thanking me. "Jack will do well in New Mexico," I said ; "it's 
a fine country, I'm told." 

" Of course, Mr. Ringwood," rejoined Mrs. Greene, " I don't 
care for Jack to go off, but I knows it's just as well all the same. 
I'm glad it's t' a place where the's a church. In some of them 



234 PAUL RING WOOD: AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. [May, 

wilds, I've heard tell, they have no priests no times. I wouldn't 
want a child of mine in none of them places. We're of English 
dissent " Mrs. Greene was unconsciously ironical " an' I've 
heard how our folks on his father's side an' mine suffered for the 
old church, an' I an't of a mind to see Jack lose anything of 
what they shedded their blood for. An* just to think of Possun 
Trombill's wife a-settin' there an' tellin' me an* Richard as how 
we Catholics was persecutin' them there Protestants. I couldn't 
jus* stan' it, an' I out an' tole her how our ancesters suffered, an' 
what they had done for Protestants in this here Ian', givin' 'em 
peace which they wouldn't have nohow 'twixt themselves, an' 
how ongrateful she was to talk so. ' Did you never hear tell 
of Fox's martyrs?' ax Mrs. Trombill, cross as two sticks. 
Richard he will hev his joke, that man he laughs an' says : 
4 Foxes hev red hair, an't they?' An' Mrs. Trombill, she says: 
4 En' if they hev, what's that got to do with it?' An' 
Richard says, 'Everything, fur you mus' mean Queen Bessy; 
she'd red hair, an' thet fox made a sight of martyrs.' Then 
Mrs. Trombill says as she sees my Richard an't littery. I 
warn't goin' to hev my Richard run down before my eyes, an' 
he eddicated in the porridge school, learnt readin', writin', 
figgers, Latin for servin', an* a heap besides, an' I says, * Oh ! 
ma'am, I believes in Protestant martyrs ; it's the poor possuns, 
always a-gettin* nagged ' an' it's well known she leads Possun 
Trombill a life an' up she gets and goes. I'd scruples for 
speakin' so sharp like, an' had no peace till her twins hed mumps 
en' measles a conglommeration, the doctor said an' I help'd 
nurse them, thereby peace bein' made. An' thet brings me 
back to say it's the blessedest thing Jack's set on a place where 
he'll have his church, which is the same in all lan's.'' 

By this time Mrs. Greene had talked herself out of breath 
and had to stop from sheer exhaustion. 

" Jack's goin' over to Arnold's ; would you like a bit of a ride, 
Mr. Ringwood ? " she asked when she was helping the one ser- 
vant to carry away the remains of my breakfast. I saw that it 
was a fresh, pleasant morning, and answered : " I don't know 
anything I'd like better." 

HAROLD DIJON. 

[TO BE CONTINUED.] 



1889.] A FORGOTTEN CATHOLIC. 235 



A FORGOTTEN CATHOLIC. 

WILLIAM BYRD, COMPOSER AND MUSICIAN. 

You will search in vain through the pages of Gillow's in- 
valuable and scholarly Biographical History of English Catholics 
for the name of William Byrd, and yet among the Catholic recu- 
sants of the reign of Elizabeth and James I. there was probably 
no one of them so well known to his contemporaries ; not, it is 
true, from his Catholicity, which he held most firmly amid the 
trials and temptations of two hostile courts, but from his rare 
ability in church music. 

Peachan, in his quaint and amusing book, The Cotnpleat Gen- 
tleman, says of him : " In Motets and Musicke of pietie and de- 
votion, as well for the honour of our Nation as the merit of the 
man, I preferre above all others, our Phoenix, M. William Byrd, 
whom in that kind, I know not whether any may equall. I am 
sure none excell, even by the judgement of France and Italy." 
Dr. Burney, writing of a musical manuscript now in the Fitz- 
william Museum at Cambridge, sometimes incorrectly called 
Queen Elizabeths Virginal Book, says : ''Crowded and elaborate 
as is the harmony, and uncouth and antiquated the melody, of 
all the pieces in this collection by various composers, there is a 
manifest superiority in those by Byrd over all the rest, both in 
texture and design. In a later age his genius would have ex- 
panded in works of invention, taste, and elegance." Sacred 
music was without doubt his proper vein, although he composed 
many songs for keyed instruments, and was one of the first to 
use the madrigal as an expressive musical form. And it cannot 
be denied that he was a musician of the highest order, a com- 
poser of marked ability, and a song-writer of great sweetness. 

William Byrd, born about 1538, was a native of Lincoln. He 
studied music under Tallis, by whom he was much beloved. 
Became in 1554 senior chorister of St. Paul's, London; organist 
of Lincoln Cc^thedral in 1563 ; Gentleman of the Chapel Royal 
in 1569 ; and in 1575- Queen Elizabeth granted him and Thomas 
Tallis a patent, giving them the sole right to print and sell both 
nlusic and music-paper for a term of twenty-one years. 



236 A FORGOTTEN CATHOLIC. [May, 

Sacred music, for some time after the suppression of the 
monasteries, held its own in England by sheer force of Catho 
lie tradition preserved by the musicians of the Chapel Royal, 
who were mostly schismatics secretly attached to the old faith ; 
but it eventually succumbed to the Puritanic fanaticism of the 
seventeenth century and remained prostrate from the blow dealt 
it by that enemy of culture and refinement until the Oxford re- 
vival of 1832. 

It is hard to understand how Byrd could have held his place 
in the Chapel Royal, receiving favors from the court, and at the 
same time remain in union with Rome. That he did so remain 
is a fact, even in the reign of James I., in spite of having been ex- 
communicated as a " papisticale recusant ' by the archdeaconal 
court of Essex. The entry stands : " [Parish of] Strandin Massie 
[contra] Williehium Byrd et Elenam ejus uxorem. Prsesentan- 
tur for Popish recusants. He is a gent, of [the] King's Ma- 
jesty's Chapel, and as the Minister and Churchwardens do hear 
the said William Byrd, with the assistance of one Gabriel Col- 
ford, who is now at Antwerp, hath been the chief and principal 
seducer of John Wright, son and heir of John Wright of Kelven- 
don, in Essex, gent., arid of Anne Wright, the daughter of the 
said John Wright the elder ; and the said Ellen Byrd, as it is re- 
ported, and as her servants have confessed, hath appointed busi- 
ness on the Sabbath days for her servants, of purpose to keep 
them from Church ; and hath also done her best to endeavour 
to seduce Thoda Pigbone, her now maid-servant, to draw 
her to Popery, as the maid hath confessed. And the said 
Ellen refuseth conference; and the ministers and churchwar- 

* 

dens have not as yet spoken to the said William Byrd, be- 
cause he is from home, etc., etc., May 11, 1605." Moreover, 
his wife, Ellen Birley (by whom he had five children), was 
known as an ardent Catholic and as having made many converts 
to the faith. 

That he once fell under the displeasure of Queen Bess we 
know. The occasion was the conversion and flight of one John 
Bolt, who was " held in great request by Elizabeth for his voice 
and skill in music." The " Queen having heard of his departure 
fell out with the Master of Music [William Byrd], and would 
have flung her pantofle at his head for looking no better unto 
him" (The Troubles of Our Catholic Forefathers, vol. i. page 297). 
In all probability it was in consequence of this conversion that 
Byrd had to give up his office, for Father William Weston, S.J., 



1889.] A FORGOTTEN CATHOLIC. 237 

who knew him, says : " For his religion he sacrificed everything, 
both his office and the court and all those hopes which are nur- 
tured by such persons as pretend to similar places in the dwell- 
ing of princes, as steps towards the increasing of their fortune." 
On the death of Elizabeth he once more became one of the Gen- 
tlemen of the Chapel. 

It is evident that the queen cared not so much for Bolt's 
change of religion as for the loss of his voice from among her 
musicians, from the fact that when he fell into the hands of the 
cruel pursuivant, Topcliffe, he was set free and offered his old 
place at court, where he was to live " without any molestation 
for his conscience/' " He liked better to live in the Court of 
Christ, and therefore coming to St. Omer's, he studied in the 
college there and afterwards was made priest." He became one 
of the chaplains of the Augustinian convent of St. Monica at 
Louvain, and lived there under the assumed name of " Johnson ' 
for twenty-eight years, teaching the sisters music and acting as 
their organist. 

Our composer died at the ripe old age of eighty-five ; his death 
is noted in the Cheque Book of the Chapel Royal in these words: 
" 1623. William Byrd, a Father of Music, died the 4th of July." 
He left behind him a large number of works, many of which 
were published, and hundreds of others in manuscript are to be 
found in museums, libraries, and private collections throughout 
England. It is said that his well-known canon, Non nobis Domine, 
is preserved in the Vatican, engraved on a plate of gold. The 
Musical Antiquarian Society reprinted in 1841 one of his masses 
for five voices; and Dr. Burney, in his General History of Music, 
gives us one or two examples of his lighter works. The first 
collection of his compositions was published by William Byrd 
under the title of Psalmes, Sonnets \ and Songs of Sadness and 
Pietie, wherein he gives among other reasons " to persuade every 
one to learn to sing" the following: "The better the voyce is, 
the meeter it is to honour and serve God therewith ; and the 
voyce of man is chiefly to be employed to that end. Omnis 
Spiritus laudet Dominum." 

All through his works he inculcates precepts of faith and 
piety in quaint, epigrammatic verses, showing that he fully 
realized that '* man that is born of woman is of short continuance 
and full of trouble," standing sorely in need of the grace of 
Heaven to carry him safely across the tempestuous sea of life. 
Addressing his soul, he says : 



238 A FORGOTTEN' CATHOLIC. [ Ma y> 



" Retire, my soul, consider thine estate ; 

And justly sum thy lavish sin's account : 
Time's dear expense, and costly pleasure's rate ; 

How follies grow, how vanities amount. 
Write all these down in pale Death's reck'ning tables, 
Thy days will seem but dreams, thy hopes but fables." 

A 

The burden of his songs, however, was not always sad, as he 
himself tells us in one of his epistles to the reader: "Benign 
Reader, here is offered unto thy courteous acceptation musicke 
of sundrie sorts, and to content divers humours. If thou be 
disposed to pray, here are Psalmes ; if to be merrie, here are son- 
nets ; if to lament for thy sinnes, here are songs of sadness and 
pietie." Nevertheless, there are few of his own verses, even the 
merriest one, which do not contain an exhortation his love- 
songs always carrying a lesson of purity ; his epigrams are 
quaintly witty in their skilfully pointed moral. As an example 
in proof of the last, the following lines are as ingenious as they 
are pretty : 

" Crowned with flow'rs I saw fair Amarills 

By Thirsis sit hard by a fount of Chrystal ; 
And with her hand, more white than snow or lilies, 

On sand she wrote, My faith shall be immortal. 
When suddenly a storm of wind and weather 
Blew all her faith and sand away together." 

His last work, which he calls his ultimum vale, was publish- 
ed in 1611. It is entitled : Psalmes, Songs, and Sonnets, some 
solemne, others joy full, framed to the life of the words, etc. Herein, 
with quaint simplicity, he wishes " all true lovers of musicke all 
true happiness both temporal and eternal." 

Among his last writings we find these beautiful lines : 

" Let not dull sluggish sleep 

Close up thy waking eye ; 
Until with judgement deep 
Thy daily deeds thou try. 

'* He that one sin in conscience keeps, 

When he to quiet goes ; 
More vent'rous is than one who sleeps 
Midst twenty mortal foes." 

We trust that these notes and quotations will inspire an abler 
hand to make us better acquainted with William Byrd an 



1889.] SANCTA CATHARINA. 239 

almost forgotten English Catholic poet, musician, and composer 
whose works come down to us marked by a rare artistic ex- 
cellence, and breathing the sweetness of a singularly pious and 
cultivated mind. It will be seen from the foregoing that there 
is abundance of material from which a critical study of his musi- 
cal and poetical ability may be drawn, and no doubt there is 
other material in England from which a full biography might 
be written. 

CARYL COLEMAN. 



SANCTA CATHARINA. 

" Sponsabo te miht in sempiternum" 

THROUGH silence of the midnight deep 
He draweth near, the Lord of all ; 

The fringes of his vesture sweep 

In splendor through the heavenly hall ; 

His breath hath touched me faint and dim, 

My soul with longing longs for him. 



The veil is rent, the depths divide, 

The universe is hushed with awe ; 
The Bridegroom cometh to his bride 

Ye Seraphim and Saints withdraw ! 
Alone within his holy place 
Must I even meet him face to face. 

Words thoughts expire ; with fire divine 

I kindle as I clasp thy feet ; 
Enfold me close ; on thy heart's shrine 

The holocaust of mine complete. 
Lord of my love ! prolong for me 
This instant to eternity ! 

CONSTANTINA E. BROOKS. 



240 THE LATE FATHER HECKER. [May, 



THE LATE FATHER HECKER. 

FATHER HECKER had something new to tell the world. I 
hardly think that he had new views of doctrine, for he had no 
appearance of a mission as a doctrinal teacher, nor had he the 
education generally necessary for such a mission. Concerning 
the doctrines which are the usual subjects of discussion he had 
great independence of view, paying reverence, indeed, to leading 
minds and addicted to no school, yet respecting all. With 
regard to St. Thomas he made an exception, venerating him 
most religiously both as his personal patron and name-saint and 
as his teacher. Yet he did not follow him as a schoolman 
would follow his leader, though he read him incessantly. But 
St. Thomas he looked upon as the best aid accessible for under- 
standing the Scriptures, for fully grasping truths dogmatically 
defined, and especially for assistance in solving the philosophical 
problems whose discussion and solution was Father Hecker's 
life. If he did not recognize St. Thomas as a leader, he was to 
him all that any man could be. to another struggling with problems 
not explicitly encountered. 

It was these very problems that made Father Hecker remark- 
able. The difficulties of these times are owing to the fact that 
the interior life of man is all awry ; there is confusion, there is 
deep-seated disease in men's minds. The epidemic of our day is 
that malady of the interior life called by the general name of 
Scepticism. It is the inability to make equation between the 
aspiration of the soul and what seems to be its object. Scepti- 
cism and disobedience, more the former than the latter, are the 
evils now to be considered and remedied by men of zeal and en- 
lightenment. 

The cure of scepticism is that truth embodied by Father 
Hecker in the proposition, " Life is real." Catholics, above all 
others, need to appreciate that this is a problem and to assimilate 
the proposition named ; for, having the truth as a primary ele- 
ment of their existence, it is hard for them to sympathize with 
sceptics, or so much as to understand how they can be honest or 
even sane. To them the nexus between the inner religious life 
and the objects-^-whether persons or things of its aspiration is 
never questioned or so much as thought of. They are not bound 
to God even by a link : the touch is immediate. And this truth is 



.] THE LATE FATHER HECKER. 241 

so elementary that in childhood and youth all the teachings of 
parental or ecclesiastical authority but embed it more and more 
deeply in the soul ; and the products of experience are daily con- 
firmation of it throughout life. And so the very possession of a 
truth so elementary, as that the interior aspiration is brought into 
being and characterized by external reality, hinders many en- 
lightened Catholics from appreciating the state of a mind with- 
out it ; nay, makes them incredulous of its existence; nay, more, 
has excluded its discussion from many Catholic philosophies. 

So that Catholics will discuss philosophical questions and 
miss the point at issue; proving, for example, the existence of 
God by the principle of causality, oblivious to the state of mind 
of their interlocutor, which can admit a first cause thought and 
deny a first cause objectively real. The Catholic philosopher 
proves that the door is a door, is of good wood, well put to- 
gether, and fits its place ; while what the other party really wants 
to know is how the door opens. You think that what he does 
not understand is doors; and as a matter of fact his difficulty is 
about hinges. He cannot get from the subject to the object, 
from the inside to the outside of his mind. He is tethered within 
the circle of Kant's categories of pure reason, or imprisoned with- 
in the walls built up by the products of sensible experience as 
laid out by Spencer's First Principles. 

But when you have learned how a mind is formed which never 
knew any external authority in parent or church, teaching the 
truth in childhood and youth, and has been relegated for its 
whole religion and philosophy to an extremely puzzling book, 
you have got at the diagnosis of the mental malady of these 
times. Scepticism is the child of Protestantism. The genuine 
Protestant is a disciple of Luther, the master who taught that 
human reason is stercus in lanterno. The Protestant may not ap- 
prehend his mental attitude towards absolute truth. But so low 
a view does Protestantism take of the native powers of the human 
intellect that a Lutheran can take on scepticism and not be con- 
scious of inconsistency : just as we meet Protestant church mem- 
bers every day who are Spencerian agnostics. 

Although Father Hecker was never a Protestant church 
member, nor anything like it, he was born of and trained by 
German Lutheran parents, and that is why he started life as a 
sceptic. He could not believe that his mind generated error by 
nature, and such is the logic of the Lutheran doctrine of total de- 
pravity. Yet his training led him to suspect the witness of his 
inner experience, and in searching for peace he came across 
VOL. XLIX. 16 



242 THE LATE FATHER PIECKER. [May, 

Kant. The theories of that writer made him as much a sceptic 
as so plain a man and so direct a thinker could ever become. 
Hence his whole after-life, as shown in his intercourse and con- 
versation, was a vigorous, often a violent, protest against the 
essential 'Protestant error of total depravity ; and his books, 
Aspirations of Nature and Questions of the Soul, have a two-fold 
character. The}' are a protest against the degrading error of 
total depravity, a presentation of the elevating force of religion ; 
they are a protest against sqepticism and its gospel of despair, 
a presentation of the reality of life and its hopefulness. 

So far we consider Father Hecker's mind on the philosophical 
difficulties of this age, which are also its religious questions. 
There are no philosophical questions which are not religious in 
tneir present bearing or final outcome. But when its questions 
concern the noblest aspirations of the heart, philosophy is the 
handmaid of religion in the strictest sense.' If I am considering 
the philosophical problem of matter and form, I need not think of 
God as my last end and destiny, and its solution is but subsidiary 
to deeper questions. But when Father Hecker became con- 
scious of the question, What is the worth of my interior life 
in relation to the object of its aspiration? he touched bottom. 
The subject, the object, and their relation; man, God, and human 
thought these terms, with an interrogation point after each, were 
what Father Hecker started with. That he could not continue in 
doubt shows that the end of philosophy is the real. That he 
could not embrace any form of Protestantism and he honestly 
tried them all shows that the end of philosophy is the rational. 
That his philosophy led him to the Catholic Church shows the 
need of revelation to solve the problems of reason, and revelation 
in a concrete, organic form. 

To understand Father Hecker's philosophy is to understand 
his spirituality. He loved God the same way he knew him. He 
never could love God till he knew why and till he could tell 
why; and he was so finely made a nature that until he could 
love God he was in torment, and he was so rational a nature that 
love was conditioned on the fulness of knowledge. Doubt 
sickens other men's minds, but it sickened his heart. Any 
one who knew Father Hecker well and intimately, as was the 
privilege of the writer, knew that prayer was so vital a part of 
his life that the ^vord habitual but feebly describes his practice 
of it. Now this was either innate in him, a natural religiousness, 
or it was a grace given so far back as to be counted as the initial 
one. This state of prayerfulness was so instinctively inter- 



1889.] THE LATE FATHER HECKER. 243 

changeable in him with philosophical investigation as only to be 
explained by a reasoning faculty entirely impregnated with 
active love. Father Hecker's life was the ideal projected on 
reality. It was the very opposite of the state of mind in which 
Kant would leave a man. That writer divorces the mind from 
truth and divides truth in twain, leaving truth not one but two, 
abstract and experimental ; offering the mind a criterion of truth 
different in both orders, This makes man a house divided 
against itself and brings him to desolation to agnosticism. Not 
only does Kant put asunder what God has joined together, the 
practical and the ideal of life, but he leaves the soul of man at 
war with itself. Philosophy which does not harmonize and 
unify breeds confusion, postulates doubts. It is the gospel of 
despair. It makes chaos of the cosmos. Kant must beget Spen- 
cer and Schopenhauer, and they are not illegitimate children. 
But Father Hecker agonized out of Kant and into that " whole- 
ness of manhood"* which characterized him. 

This leads us to speak of his characteristic trait of liberty. 
If he was a free man it was because he was a whole man. He 
was true to himself. His spirituality was true to his philosophy. 
With him to be right meant to do right ; or, better said, to be 
right meant to be courageous. Having a doctrine of freedom, he 
lived it out. He could not understand the claim of Europeans 
to be good Catholics who took to novenas when they should go 
to the ballot-box. 

Father Hecker communicated freedom to all who learned him 
well. Among these many prominent laymen and ecclesiastics in 
Europe are to be numbered. It is the European who can best 
value true liberty, for he suffers from tyranny, and the liberty 
offered him is very frequently a false one. The conservatism of 
Europe is largely reaction, which is not real conservatism ; and 
the liberty of Europe is largely revolt, which is frequently any- 
thing but true liberty. Now, men whose whole lives had been 
spent in looking at civil liberty with suspicion and even with 
aversion were charmed with Father Hecker's ideas of human 
freedom ; those ideas were Catholic and were plainly so. They 
postulated liberty for good men and liberty to do good. If you 
want a guileless man to be at his best, let him alone ; and the 
promises of the Gospel will secure him the guidance of the Holy 
Spirit in his interior life. This was, and to a great extent is yet, 
a novelty in the old world. To have a guileless man at his best, 

* I quote these words from a letter of condolence by one who knew Father Hecker well 
and appreciated him. 



244 THE LATE FATHER HECKER. [May, 

they think, let him be provided with the greatest possible 
amount of guidance by the authority of God in the external 
order. The good Christian not only benefits by a spiritual di 
rector, but he must have one, and he must belong to a sodality, 
and he must practise this or that external devotion. And this is 
carried so far that the grade of obedience to one's director, and 
the observance of society rules, and the enthusiasm for certain 
. .devotions are watched-out for as the only tests of orthodoxy and 
spirituality. These things make up the solid substance of Chris- 
tian character. If you have them, not only are you safe, but you 
-have got the best the church has to give you. If you think that 
<you can get along without them, there is something the matter 
with your Catholicity. 

Now, Father Hecker maintained that free men, citizens of a 
free nation, would like to be free as Christians. What the autho- 
rity of God commanded in church or state the free man would, 
gladly obey, but would prefer that that authority where it touch- 
ed the interior life should be kept at its minimum, and this in 
order that the influence of the Holy Spirit might there be at its 
maximum. Such was his preference ; but he was not nervous or 
anxious about it, nor did he say that all men were fit for it. But 
when any man was fit for it he maintained he should have it ; 
that his possibilities for good were better secured by liberty than 
by subjection to authority, or by the external aids of directors, 
confraternities, and other such methods. For other men other 
methods ; other times, other manners. The influence of civil 
liberty upon religious character as thus explained by Father 
Hecker met the enthusiastic approval of men high in authority, 
whose lives had been spent in battling against the extravagances 
of European radicalism. Ecclesiastical and civil officials to whom 
authority and obedience seemed the breath and blood of all life 
not only approved his ideas, but could see in them the best guar- 
antee of authority and the most perfect form of obedience. 
They insisted upon no other conditions than he did ; guileless 
and enlightened men to assimilate such principles and make 
them efficacious. It was only because Pius IX. and Cardinal 
Barnabo believed in these principles that they suggested their 
realization by Father Hecker and his original associates by a free 
religious community in free America. Legitimate authority sits 
easy on its throne and sees in rational liberty its most efficient 
associate for attaining the ends of God in the world. Authority 
appeals to liberty, and, if liberty be rational, never appeals in 
vain. Father Hecker used often to say that the Holy Spirit 



1889.] THE LATE FATHER HECKER. 245 

acting in a guileless soul would reveal himself as an external 
criterion in external authority. 

" The action of the Holy Spirit, embodied visibly in the authority of 
the church, and the action of the Holy Spirit, dwelling invisibly in the 
soul, form one inseparable synthesis." "The Holy Spirit in the external 
authority of the church acts as the infallible interpreter and criterion of 
divine revelation. The Holy Spirit in the soul acts as the divine life-giver 
and sanctifier. It is of the highest importance that these two distinct 
offices of the Holy Spirit should not be confounded." "The Holy Spirit is 
the immediate guide of the soul in the way of salvation and sanctification ; 
and the criterion or test that the soul is guided by the Holy Spirit, is its 
ready obedience to the authority of the church. This rule removes all 
danger whatever, and with it the soul can walk, run, or fly, if it chooses, in 
the greatest safety and with perfect liberty, in the ways of sanctity " (The 
Church and the Age, pp. 33, 34, and 35). 

During the past three hundred years, the conspicuous point 
of attack having been the external order of God in the church, 
the interior dispositions of good men and women have been ad- 
justed by the Holy Spirit with a view to defence. Hence, au- 
thority and obedience became the two poles of the interior life, 
producing by discipline, order, conformity, marvels of sanctity. 
But those whose experience of the better class of souls in these 
times is wide and whose perceptions are quick see a change. 
They see that what was once a harness is becoming a chain and 
a manacle. The effect is to repress, to suppress, to annihilate the 
instincts, aspirations, and capacities God-given to human nature ; 
whereas the order of God in society and in religion demands 
that there shall be such an assimilation of primary principles as 
shall elevate these gifts of God, expand them, and put them prac- 
tically to the divine service in a freer way. That way is under 
the guidance of the Holy Spirit acting upon the individual soul 
by interior touches and illuminations, utilizing its every natural 
and supernatural force personally, as well as in conjunction with 
external organic life in the church. 

This is very clearly expressed by Father De Caussade, S.J.:* 

" It [the divine will] pleases me in itself far more than all its instru- 
ments and its effects, since it permeates all things, renders them divine 
and transforms them into itself. It ma'keth heaven for me everywhere , 
all my moments are purely filled with the divine actibn ; and, living or dy- 
ing, it is my sole contentment. Yes, my Beloved, I will cease to prescribe 
thee hours or methods ; thou shalt be ever welcome. O divine action, 

* Abandonment ; or, Absolute Surrender to Divine. Providence. By Rev. J. P. de Caus- 
sade, S.J. Revised and corrected by Rev. H. Ramiere, S.J. Translated from the eighth 
French edition by Ella McMahon. Imprimatur, M. Augustine, Archbishop of New York. Ben- 
ziger Bros. 



246 THE EDUCATIONAL GRIEVANCES OF CATHOLICS. [May, 

thou seernest to have revealed me thy imm ensity. I will but walk hence- 
forth in the bosom of thy infinity. The tide of thy power flows to-day as 
it flowed yesterday. Thy foundation is the bed of the torrent whence 
graces unceasingly flow. Thou boldest the waters thereof in thy hand 
and movest them at will. No longer will I seek thee within the narrow 
limits of a book, the life of a saint, a sublime thought. No : these are but 
drops of that great ocean which embraces all creatures. The divine action 
inundates them all. They are but atoms which sink into this abyss. No 
longer will I seek this action in spiritual intercourse. No more will I beg 
my bread from door to door. I will depend upon no creature. Yes, Lord, 
I would live to thy honor as the worthy child of a true father, infinitely 
good, wise, and powerful. I would live as I believe, and since the divine ac- 
tion labors incessantly and by means of all things for my sanctification, I 
would draw my life from this great and boundless reservoir, ever present, 
and ever practically available '' (pp. 108-9). 

H. E. 



THE EDUCATIONAL GRIEVANCES OF CATHOLICS. 

THE excitement arising from the recent school troubles in 
Boston, Pittsburgh, and elsewhere once more directs attention to 
the educational problem. The question suggests itself : Are we 
nearing a solution of the school difficulty ? It is hard to say. 
Certain it is, however, that there are indications that point to an 
affirmative reply. Not the least of these favorable signs of a 
great change in public sentiment is the recognized fact that the 
subject is at last fairly open to discussion. A writer or speaker 
no longer runs the risk of being fiercely arraigned for lack of 
patriotism or set down at once as an enemy of republican insti- 
tutions should he venture to express an opinion adverse to our 
public-school system of education. That is quite a step in ad- 
vance. Nay, it is even safe to say that he will find attentive 
consideration should he go so far as to criticise and point out 
the serious and radical defects of the system. 

It can no longer be asserted with truth that it is Catholics 
only who complain and formulate grievances. There is a large 
and increasing class of citizens, far removed in thought and 
sympathy from the Catholic religion, who boldly avow the belief 
that on the school question the Catholic position alone is cor- 
rect ; that it is unassailably right. To the more thoughtful and 
conservative of our people who make an honest profession of 
Christianity the evil of an irreligious system of public educa- 
tion is almost self-evident. Whilst among those who wait the 
practical workings of a system before pronouncing a judgment 



1889.] THE EDUCATIONAL GRIEVANCES OF CATHOLICS. 247 

on its merits the number of reformers is steadily increasing. 
Popular errors, heretofore existing and deeply embedded, on the 
subject of education, its meaning and aim, are fast disappearing. 
It is becoming daily more and more apparent to the public mind 
that any system of education that aims only at developing the 
intellect to the neglect of moral and religious training is, at best, 
but an imperfect and mutilated system. The public mind is 
rapidly taking hold of the idea that to have good and useful 
citizens the intellectual and moral growth of our children must 
go hand-in-hand ; otherwise education becomes narrow and frag- 
mentary, proving in most instances a curse instead of a blessing. 
Now, the day-school is exactly the place where that sound, 
healthy, vigorous growth must be promoted. The home, Sun- 
day-school, and church will not and do not meet the require- 
ments of this constant, steady development of the intellectual 
and moral faculties of the young. No sensible person any long- 
er maintains the sufficiency of these means standing alone as 
moral instructors of our youth. It is not necessary here to in- 
dicate why home and church influences, when left to themselves, 
fail to supply the moral training the people must have. The 
fact is generally recognized that these agencies do not reach the 
proposed objects. The proofs are all around us. The increase 
of crime, the growth of scepticism, the laxity of public morals, 
the frequency of divorce, the disregard of justice and the first 
principles of fair dealing and honesty, the corruption of politics, 
not to speak of the materialism and indifferentism in religious 
matters so prevalent in our day all go to show that the moral 
and religious training of our children is lamentably neglected. 

It is a sad fact that there is not a single nation which; makes 
any external profession of Christianity that so totally sets aside 
the moral and religious element in the education of youth as 
does the United States. That this glaring defect bodes mischief 
to our country and endangers the stability of our institutions is 
quite manifest. If this danger is to be averted the religious 
element in the educational svstem must be restored. 

- 

"To make popular education truly good and socially useful," says 
Guizot, the eminent Protestant writer, " it must be fundamentally religious. 
... It is necessary that national education should be given and received 
in the midst of a religious atmosphere, and that religious expressions and 
religious observances should penetrate into all its parts. Religion is not a 
study or an exercise to be restricted to a certain place or a certain hour ; 
it is a faith and a law which ought to be felt everywhere, and which, after 
this manner alone, can exercise all its beneficial influence upon our mind 
and our life." 



248 THE EDUCATIONAL GRIEVANCES OF CATHOLICS. [May, 

The American people have yet to learn the important lesson 
of these plain and earnest words of the Protestant historian and 
statesman. 

It is not proposed to deal in this article with the general sub- 
ject of education ; nor to treat of the necessity of the moral and 
religious element in popular education ; nor to expose the de- 
fects and dangerous tendencies of our American public-school 
system. The writer merely wishes to direct public attention to 
the crying injustice that is being done to Catholics under our 
present school system ; to make known some of their grievances, 
and to plead for justice and fair treatment. It is to be hoped 
that the sense of fair play and honest dealing, said to be innate 
in the American character, will in our own day assert itself by a 
generous acknowledgment of the wrong done to the Catholic 
body and a ready disposition to make due reparation. 

In the meantime Catholic citizens and taxpayers must cry 
out and make public their grievances. Weighty, indeed, are 
the educational burdens imposed upon them. The greater por- 
tion of Catholics who so cheerfully support their own schools, 
besides paying their due share of the public-school tax, are ill- 
fitted to bear this double burden of taxation. Gladly, however, 
do they make the sacrifice in order that they may preserve to 
their children the precious gift of faith. Of their limited means 
they freely give the money necessary to build, furnish, and equip 
the schools of the parochial system of education, a system which 
to-day flourishes in every Catholic diocese throughout the land. 
They want their children to receive an education in the true 
sense of the term. Catholic parents are not satisfied with hav- 
ing their children's intellects bright, but they want their hearts 
to be intelligently Christian ; Catholic parents desire their boys 
and girls to be not only educated and cultured, but religious 
also ; they would have them not merely fitted for the proper dis- 
charge of duty in this world, but trained also to walk securely 
in the way that leads to the higher and better world to come. 
It is such motives as these that explain the efforts and sacrifices 
made by the friends and supporters of Christian education. 

It is, indeed, strange that so few men in public life have the 
courage to refer to the educational grievances of Catholics. 
President Cleveland, at the Georgetown Centennial the other 
day, complimented the institution on the signal services ren- 
dered to the country by the long roll of distinguished men who 
received their training in that Catholic school. Mr. Cleveland 
is entitled to all praise for this manly acknowledgment. The 



1889.] THE EDUCATIONAL GRIEVANCES OF CATHOLICS. 249 

centennial celebration of the Jesuit college was not the time to 
refer to Grievances. Who knows but that the ex-President 

o 

would, under other circumstances, have boldly referred to the 
injustice from which Catholic citizens suffer? Such a reference 
would be eminently proper at any time from an American 
statesman. 

But why, it might well be asked, do so many of the Protestant 
clergy and laity remain silent on this subject? Surely they do 
not all hold with Drs. Fulton and Joseph Cook that " Romanism," 
" with all its works and pomps," is essentially evil and a constant 
menace to the stability of the Republic. There are many sensi- 
ble men in the ranks of the Protestant clergy who agree that the 
Catholic stand on the education question is alone tenable. Why, 
then, do they not speak out their mind? Why do they not give 
honest utterance to their convictions, as did the late Dr. Hodg'e 
of Princeton College? The last great service rendered by this 
Protestant clergyman, not alone to the Presbyterian body, but to 
the country at large, was to call attention, through the pages 
of the New Princeton Review, to the false ideas and principles 
that underlie our public-school system of education. He, more- 
over, in the article referred to, took occasion to add his testi- 
mony, which had great weight with those who knew him* in 
favor of the Catholic idea of education. This, he maintained, 
was the only correct idea for a Christian people to accept and 
act on. He paid a fitting tribute to the Catholic Church for 
the services it has rendered the whole nation in keeping the true 
idea of education before the people ; and he recalled the fact that 
the present system of public schools differs radically from the 
system as originally established in New England. The original 
system was based on sound principles ; it made due provision 
for moral and religious instruction. That system furnished the 
country with eminent men of letters ; it imparted sound scholar- 
ship ; it produced great statesmen and faithful public officers ; 
it supplied the Protestant church with distinguished theologians 
and eloquent preachers; it helped to fill the Protestant churches 
with devout worshippers, which our modern irreligious system 
has more than half-emptied. Under that early system the crimi- 
nal classes did not increase at the rate they do to-day ; there was 
a better tone to public morals ; crijnes against the person and pro- 
perty were proportionately low ; there was not, in those days, any 
great hegira across the Canadian border of absconding clerks, 
bank officials, and " boodle ' aldermen. Our jails, reformator- 
ies, and charitable institutions were not as crowded then as they 
are to-day, making due allowance for the increased population. 



250 THE EDUCATIONAL GRIEVANCES OF CATHOLICS. [May, 

Many think that the change in our educational system from that 
early condition with its moral and religious element to the pre- 
sent godless scheme accounts fully for the present unhealthy 
symptoms that appear in the social body. 

Surely this subject of educational grievances is every way 
worthy the attention and thought of our statesmen. When, it 
might well be asked, will one arise who, having the courage to 
brave adverse criticism for a while, and possessing integrity 
enough to discard the schemes and devices of the politician, will 
be prepared to offer for the acceptance of the American people 
a just solution of the educational problem satisfactory to all ? 
This is certainly a matter of as weighty interest to the sixty mil- 
lions of our population as any other question of practical politics. 
There is no end to the debates and discussions about lightening 
the burdens of taxation, about the reduction of the tariff, re- 
moving the internal revenue tax ; proposals are made to get rid 
of our large national surplus; plans are suggested for the im- 
provement of the ballot system ; new States are admitted to the 
Union; American interests in Samoa and the Isthmus are dili- 
gently cared for ; the interests of our people abroad are duly 
protected ; local needs and wants are regarded as proper sub- 
jects for legislation ; in fact there is nothing, however small or 
great it may be in reality, provided a plea is made for it in the 
name of any large body of citizens, that does not readily com- 
mand the consideration of our legislatures, whether State or 
national. The educational claims of twelve million of Catholic 
citizens are alone ignored ! 

No one seriously believes that these grievances do not 
exist ; nor can it be said that the Catholic grounds of complaint 
are unreasonable ; nor can it be maintained that there is no way 
out of the difficulty, that there is no means of righting the 
wrong. It has been frequently pointed out how proper adjust- 
ment of views and interests may be brought about and how 
practically applied. 

Since Catholic parents cannot conscientiously use the public 
schools when Catholic ones are accessible, no fair-minded person 
should object to the following propositions: All Catholic parents 
who thus support parochial schools from motives of conscience 
should be exempt from the school tax; or else the parochial 
schools ought to receive under proper safeguards and condi- 
tions, of course their fair share of the public-school fund. If 
the first proposition, Catholic exemption from the education 
tax, does not commend itself to public approval, it is difficult to 



1889.] THE EDUCATIONAL GRIEVANCES OF CATHOLICS. 251 

see on what grounds the latter demand, Catholic or parochial 
schools sharing in the public-school tax, can be resisted. 

Cardinal Manning has recently furnished fifty reasons why 
the voluntary schools in England should have a due share of the 
public funds. The present writer has selected the following, out 
of the whole number, and, by changing places and figures, made 
them applicable to the claims in behalf of the parochial schools 
here in the United States. These reasons will, doubtless, furnish 
food for reflection to all those interested in this burning question. 

Parochial schools should have a due proportion of the public 
school funds : 

" i. Because all who pay taxes ought to share in the benefits of taxa- 
tion. 

" 2, Because to compel payment of taxes and to exclude from participa- 
tion is political injustice. 

"3. Because to offer education either without Christianity, or with in- 
definite Christianity, to the people of the United States of whom the 
great majority are definitely and conscientiously Christian is a condition 
that ought to be of impossible acceptance. 

"4. Because to confer the exclusive control and enjoyment of the 
school funds on the public schools alone is to create a grievance of con- 
science which is especially foreign to our constitutional system. A large 
class of our people the Catholics who conscientiously refuse to accept 
education without Christianity, and schools of indefinite Christianity, are 
compelled to pay-taxes for the support of such schools. 

" 5. Because the parochial schools save annually the public revenues 
$10,000,000. 

"6. Because, if the parochial schools were extinguished, it would cost 
the people of the United States a vast sum of money to buy sites and build 
the schools necessary to replace them, and an annual increase in the 
school tax necessary to maintain them. 

" 7. Because the parochial schools are the only safeguard of the rights 
and conscience both of parents and children. 

" 8. Because they embody the freedom of the people to educate them- 
selves in opposition to the pagan and revolutionary claim that the sole 
educator of the people is the state. 

<l 9. Because such education is the worst form of education, fatal to the 
independence of national conscience, energy, and character. 

" 10. Because the effects of a purely secular or state education have 
proved disastrous wherever it has had a trial. 

"ii. Because no reason is apparent for excluding parochial schools 
from a share of the school taxes but that they are Christian. 

" 12. Because the efficiency of the parochial-school system is fully equal 
to that of the public schools. 

"13. Because parochial schools sell good and efficient secular educa- 
tion to the state for which they receive not a dollar of payment." 

MORGAN M. SHEEDY. 

St. Mary of Mercy, Pittsburgh, Pa, 



252 A SEIGXEUR OF HEARTS. [May, 



A SEIGNEUR OF HEARTS. 

WE all have our heroes. Carlyle, in his gruff and blind sin- 
cerity, found at least this much of truth and held to it. Whether 
we be of the happy number who are spurred on in their well- 
doing by " that spear which the gods use enthusiasm " ; or of 
those unfortunates whose well or ill-doing is but a differing state 
of the same dull apathy; or of those, more unfortunate still, 
whose souls the mood spirit sways hither and thither, we still 
have our heroes. And from what we are shall be known what 
and who they are, for the ideal in ourselves is but the hero re- 
flected. Happily for us who are Catholics, our ideals are tangi- 
ble ones, and our heroes their no less tangible, living realities. 
Diversity enough there is in the ranks of these heroes of ours. 
There are studious, learned men, " doctors of the schools " ; 
kings and queens and high-ranked nobles are also there. The 
cowled and veiled forms of the cloister and the cell, and coarse- 
ly clad hermits from the Thebaiid are among this band. Half- 
grown youths, delicate maidens, and even tiny children stand 
bravely there, side by side with mail-clad warriors. There, too, 
are long lines of humble artisans, at whose head'stands the Car- 
penter of Judea. There are peasants ; beggars even ; pilgrims 
and homeless wanderers. We have a right to be proud of this 
noble band, and we call them our heroes and our saints. 

Great-hearted men were they all; men with the clear, deep 
sight that is the characteristic of all heroism. They were men 
who knew how to love and about whom there must always have 
been something lovable, even about the solitary pain and silence 
of a Simon Stylites. Therefore it is that the title of " the most 
lovable of saints " is an honorable one, and that the man to 
whom it has been given must be especially beloved. Beloved in 
his day and generation he was ; beloved he still is, for the saints 
are of all times. So high a place had he in the affections of his 
countrymen that at his death three cities, Lyons, Geneva, and 
Annecy, disputed the honor of possessing his mortal remains. 

Not far from the latter city, in the ancestral home of his Savoy- 
ard family, Francis de Sales, the subject of this sketch, was born 
on the 2ist of August, 1567. His family was one of the oldest 
and most illustrious of Savoy, and his birthplace one of the most 
beautiful spots of all that beautiful country. Of the Chateau de 



1889] A SEIGNEUR OF HEARTS. 253 

Sales itself one of his biographers, his nephew, Charles Auguste 
de Sales, gives us a charming and most affectionately detailed 
picture. While we are reading his description the old chateau, 
feudal-looking in its strength and majesty, rises before us, the 
massive gateway overshadowed by the beautiful linden-tree 
which, travellers tell us, still remains. We see the paved court- 
yard of the chateau, whence one viewed the surrounding vil- 
lages, with here and there a distant castle and near at hand 
mountain and vale and the glimpse of a rushing mountain tor- 
rent. VVe enter the beautiful chapel where the youthful Francis 
was so often lost in prayerful ecstasies. We admire the silken 
hangings, the altar-cloth, the priestly vestments which the clever 
fingers of Francoise de Sionnay, our saint's mother, covered 
with such deft embroidery. We pass from one lofty, tapestried 
room to another, till finally we reach the chamber where the 
most famous member of the noble Savoyard family first smiled 
upon the world which owes so much to his benignity. This 
room, so fraught with sanctity, has been converted into a small 
chapel, which is always on the feast-day of our saint crowded 
with pilgrims, not only from his beloved Savoy and from every 
part of France, but from distant lands as well. It must always 
be a subject of keen regret to us that the ancient chateau itself 
has been allowed to fall into ruins. To-day not even the ruins 
remain to us. Nothing is left but the little chapel and the grand 
old linden-tree. 

What a tale it could tell this old linden-tree if voice were 
but given to it ! It is only the gray old olives in the Garden of 
Olivet that qould have told us a story more thrilling. The lin- 
den-tree saw the little Francis, whose heart was so gentle, whose 
nature so violent and impetuous, pass daily to and fro, learning 
of his tender mother all sweetness and ardent piety, learning of 
his gallant and erudite father the duties of a brave, God-fearing 
gentleman. Under its branches the child sometimes paused to 
raise his innocent heart in fervent prayer to God, or to shed bit- 
ter tears when no alms were given him for the beggars at the 
gateway. " The development of a soul ; little else is worth 
study," says Browning. It was this that the old tree saw when 
the child, grown a youth, tall, well formed, of noble, face and 
courteous voice, comes again to dream under its shadow. Col- 
lege and university honors " lie thick upon him," but his dreams 
are not of fame but of sanctity. Military glory he leaves to the 
pursuit of his brothers ; for him, the conquest of souls under 
the standard of the cross! Joy and pain, the conquest of all the 



254 A SEIGNEUR OF PIEIRTS. [May, 

hasty impulsiveness of his nature, the crushing out from it, 
through penance and prayer and prompt obedience to the divine 
will, prompt furtherance of divine graces, of all earthly elements 
all this, and infinitely more, the linden-tree read in the soul and 
on the face of the }^outh, the young ecclesiastic, the young but 
venerable bishop. Unfortunately, however, the old linden-tree 
has never turned chronicler, and we have still to depend on the 
information given us by the several biographers of the saint. 

They tell us that, after finishing his preparatory studies in the 
College of Annecy, he went to the University of Paris, where he 
very successfully completed his studies in rhetoric and philoso- 
phy. Afterwards, for six years under the most eminent masters, 
he applied himself to the study of theology. At the end of that 
time his father recalled him from Paris and sent him to Padua to 
pursue the study of law under the direction of the celebrated 
Paneirola. 

College life was probably in those days not very different 
from what it is at present, and " wild oats " were then as now a 
recognized harvest of youth. Francis, therefore, met with all 
the temptations that young men usually encounter, but over him 
they had no power. The known sanctity of his life provoked 
scoffing, perhaps, but it commanded respect. In spite of his 
goodness Francis had hosts of friends, thanks to his undoubted 
cleverness, the nobility of his birth and bearing, and the suavity 
of his manner. He was one of those people who are born to 
popularity,, who are endowed with a certain inexplicable mag- 
netism that draws all hearts to theirs. People so endowed are 
almost invariably destined to do great good or great evil in the 
world. Even in his student days Francis clearly showed himself 
to be one of these. 

From Padua, after completing his law studies, the young 
Savoyard went to Rome. There God's graces seem to have 
been most abundantly showered upon him, and we can easily 
fancy that the days he spent in the Eternal City were very happy 
ones. 

The Count de Sales, his father, was an energetic and ambi- 
tious man, who had hoped that his eldest son would take a place 
even more important than that which he himself had held in the 
affairs of his country. So far the jealous eye of his paternal 
pride and affection had not been disappointed in the youth. 
When Francis finally returned home after his prolonged absence 
from Savoy, his father hastened to procure for him the honorable 
appointment of counsellor of the parliament of Chambe>y. But 



1889.] A SEIGNEUR OF HEARTS. 255 

the long- hours of prayer and meditation in Rome had taught 
Francis what he had often dreamed before, that the field of his 
vocation was to be the ministry of the laws of the Gospel, not 
those of Savoy. His father patiently argued with him, and find- 
ing 1 him immovable in his decision, perhaps silently grieved 
more probably stormed indignantly, for I doubt if even a gentle- 
man of the ancien regime did not generally forget his polish in his 
anger. In whatever manner the disappointed count expressed 
his feelings, they were of no avail. Francis persisted in his re- 
fusal of the proffered dignity, and, after some difficulty, finally 
received his father's consent to enter holy orders. Accord- 
ingly, on the i8th of December, 1593, he was ordained priest, and 
soon after received the appointment of provost of the cathedral 
of Geneva. The next year his real apostolate began. 

Sixty years before this time the province of Chablais had 
been forcibly obliged to accept Calvinism as the national reli- 
gion. So effectually was it forced upon the people that Catho- 
licity seemed to have entirely vanished from among them. In 
1594 the reigning Duke of Savoy wrote to the Bishop of Geneva, 
Claude de Granier, asking his assistance in the holy work of re- 
storing Catholicity in this province. The idea was everywhere 
regarded as hopelessly impracticable, but the young provost 
immediately volunteered for the work. 

With his cousin, Louis de Sales, a young ecclesiastic, Francis 
arrived in the autumn of 1594 at the city of Thonon, the capital 
of Chablais. A chapel has been erected on the spot where, from 
what was then the Chateau des Allinges, the young priest first 
gazed upon the scene of his labors. He did well to call this city, 
that looked so fair and so peaceful in the soft light of that first 
autumn evening, his " battle-field." Thonon had become, for the 
Duchy of Savoy, the centre of Calvinism. Francis de Sales and 
his young assistant found when they entered the city that there 
were but seven Catholics in the place. With inconceivable bit- 
terness the Protestants threw themselves into mortal combat 
with the young missionary. They circulated everywhere the 
most infamous calumnies against him. They represented him as 
a seducer of the people, a hypocrite, a false prophet. Centuries 
before his Master had also been so represented. Since then 
slander is the weapon with which every great and good man, 
from Paul to Lacprdaire, has been attacked. While cowards 
remain in the world the followers of the Master will not escape 
it. During his lifetime Francis de Sales was never free from 
these contemptible attacks. Nor was this all. The Calvinist 



256 A SEIGNEUR OF HEARTS. [May, 

ministers resolved upon his death, and hired assassins were set 
upon his path. Many hair-breadth escapes the saint had, but his 
manly courage and unconquerable meekness disarmed his assail- 
ants in every instance. The attempts against his life and his fair 
fame were alike unsuccessful. The churches of Thonon were 
closed against him. Undaunted, he erected a pulpit on the 
public square. Crowds assembled around him, for the people 
soon discovered how earnest and enthusiastic, how amiable and 
practical in his goodness, was the young missionary. His elo- 
quence always found its way to the hearts of his listeners. From 
the very first he proved the truth of what in after-years was 
said of him by the famous controversialist, Cardinal Du Perron : 
" I can convince the heretics, but it takes the Bishop of Geneva to 
convert them." 

Conversion was indeed his mission. During the course of 
his apostolic labors it is estimated that he succeeded in bringing 
back to the fold the almost incredible number of seventy thou- 
sand heretics. Providence seems to have intended him for the 
strongest rampart of the church against Protestantism. Living 
as he did in an age that followed so closely the outbreak of Pro- 
testantism, and that preceded the philosophical and revolutionary 
excesses of the eighteenth century, St. Francis seems to serve 
the double purpose of remedy, through his life and his preaching, 
for the existing evils of his own time, and of shield, through his 
writings and his place among our heavenly protectors, against 
future dangers. It was his opinion that Calvinism, unless check- 
ed in time, could have but one issue infidelity; that in the 
future it would no longer be a struggle of Protestant against 
Catholic, but of Catholic against atheist. In the light of the 
events of our own days, does not this opinion seem fit to be re- 
garded as a heaven-inspired prophecy ? 

In 1599 the Calvinist ministers acknowledged themselves de- 
feated, and Catholicity was formally re-established in the province 
of Chablais, to the profound satisfaction of its people. While 
Francis was still among them a terrible pestilence broke out at 
Thonon, and the young missionary, just risen from a bed of sick- 
ness, went forth to minister to the spiritual and physical needs of 
his flock with that untiring and heroic charity which is always a 
characteristic of sanctity. 

The news of the devotion and wonderful eloquence of the 
"Apostle of Chablais," as Francis began to be called, came to 
the ears of the Bishop of Geneva and inspired him with the idea 

of having Francis appointed coadjutor in his episcopal labors. 

' 



.] A SEIGNEUR OF HEARTS. 257 

The saint's humility protested, but his obedience submitted. 
After having passed the customary examinations in Rome so 
satisfactorily that Pope Clement VIII. eulogized him in the 
warmest manner, Francis was consecrated bishop. 

For three years he filled the office of coadjutor to Bishop 
Granier, administering the affairs of the diocese with all his 
accustomed zeal and energy. After the death of the bishop 
Francis was installed his successor in the see of Geneva on the 
8th of December, 1602. The title of Bishop and Prince of Geneva 
was held in high honor, but the honor was as unsubstantial and 
as bitter as one of those famous apples of Sodom. The Cal- 
vinists had confiscated almost all the revenues of the diocese of 
Geneva, and the bishop was not even allowed to occupy his 
episcopal palace in that city, but was forced to take up his resi- 
dence in Annecy. There he rented a spacious and handsome 
house, in which he reserved for himself a sombre little room 
which he called " Francis' quarters," while he designated the 
elegant apartments in which he received his visitors "the 
bishop's." Of his episcopal revenues but twelve hundred dollars 
a year remained to him, and as he had given up his portion of 
the family estates to his brothers and sisters, it was a problem to 
his friends how the good bishop contrived to keep up on so 
meagre an income the state and grandeur required from his posi- 
tion. To those who asked him how he managed it he would 
say : 4< Why, it is God multiplying the five loaves " ; or, " Is it not 
a good deal to have been left twelve hundred dollars of revenue? 
Are they not handsome leavings? Indeed the Apostles, who 
were far better bishops than we, had not so much." 

Henry IV. of France, hearing of the limited state of his 
income, directed that a pension of a thousand crowns should 
be offered to the bishop in his name. " Tell his majesty," 
replied Francis, " that I feel too much honored by his gift to 
refuse it, but that, not being in immediate want of money and 
being utterly unable to keep it, I beg his permission to leave it 
in the hands of his treasurer, to be drawn as necessity shall 
require." The king appreciated the delicate tact of this 
courtly answer, for on receiving it he said to his ambassador : 
" I have never been better thanked for a pension than by the 
Bishop of Geneva." 

The friendship constantly shown by the most amiable of kings 
to the most amiable of saints is one of the most admirable traits 
in Henry's character. The Bishop's brief sojourns at court, 
where sometimes the affairs of his diocese led him, were oppor- 

VOL. XLIX. 17 



258 A SEIGNEUR OF HEARTS. [May, 

tunities of which the monarch eagerly availed himself to show 
the esteem in which he held the Bishop of Geneva. On the 
occasion of their first meeting Henry was so fascinated by the 
pure charm of the bishop's conversation that he said to him with 
a sweet simplicity worthy of Francis himself: "You make me a 
better man. I am no longer surprised at what they tell me of all 
the conversions you have made." Another time, the king having 
remarked the affectionate intimacy existing between his secre- 
tary, Deshayes, Governor of Montargis, to whom he was much 
attached, and the Bishop of Geneva, asked the former whom he 
loved best, his king or the bishop ? Deshayes endeavored to 
evade the inquiry, but his courtier-like answer did not please 
the monarch, who insisted on a direct reply. When Deshayes 
admitted, with great embarrassment, that the deepest affection 
his heart could feel was given to the Bishop of Geneva, the king, 
with t'he greatest kindness and sincerity, asked permission to 
make the third in this friendship. 

Wishing to have the Bishop of Geneva always near him, 
Henry offered him the greatest inducements to remain at court, 
but was unsuccessful. Francis was not to be caught with worldly 
bait. Neither the honor of being made coadjutor of the see of 
Paris nor the prospect of soon obtaining the honors of the car- 
dinalate tempted the faithful bishop to separate himself from his 
beloved Savoy. He writes to Madame de Chantal from the 
court, assuring her that, having made his novitiate of court life, 
nothing would induce him to make his profession. He says that 
he (this man of such holy simplicity, such entire unworldliness !) 
has learned at court to be " more simple and less worldly." He 
tells her : "On Christmas eve I preached before the queen, but 
I assure you that I preached neither better nor more enthusias- 
tically before all these princes and princesses than I would have 
done in the chapel of our little Visitation at Annecy.' 1 

I fancy the good bishop was often mightily amused at " all 
these princes and princesses " of the court, at worldly people 
wherever he found them, for our saint knew how to aim a delicate 
little shaft of harmless sarcasm when necessity required it, and 
he had a keen perception of the humorous side of life. Was 
there ever yet a great man, or good, or genial, lacking such per- 
ception lacking the power of hearty laughter that is so true a 
balance for all of life's small miseries ? 

The saint's brother, in holy orders as already mentioned, once 
craved his pardon for some hot words, saying that he feared he 
had never made anybody happy, so testy was his temper. 



1889.] A SEIGNEUR OF HEARTS. 259 

"Oh! yes, you have," answered Francis ; " you have certainly 
made one person very happy." " I am glad to hear it," was the 
reply, " but who can it be ? ' Francis smiled and said : " The lady 
whom you did not marry." 

After all, our test of a man's worth is as largely in the opinion 
his friends have of him as in our own knowledge of those friends 
themselves. This test applied to St. Francis is best shown in 
the work entitled The Spirit of St. Francis de Sales, written by his 
life-long friend, John Camus, Bishop of Beiley, who was conse- 
crated to the episcopal dignity by the Bishop of Geneva. This 
book has ail the quaint simplicity of an antique chronicle, and is 
written in a spirit of loving reverence that shows us what entire 
truth there was in the author's na'ive remark that St. Francis was 
his " beau-ideal in everything." His endeavors to model him- 
self after his ideal were sometimes amusing, particularly when, on 
one occasion, they led him to imitate the Bishop of Geneva's 
quiet, forcible, unaffected style of preaching. His own style was 
impetuous, rhetorical, glowingly enthusiastic, withal only less 
effective than the quietness of his model, which, lacking the 
sweet kindliness, the unction of piety that animated every word 
or action proceeding from the Bishop of Geneva, would have 
been very ineffective. The combination of styles in the Bishop 
of Belley's oratorical efforts was so grotesque that his congrega- 
tion listened to him in open-mouthed wonder, and probably with 
many a giggling doubt of his entire sanity. But a smile and a 
word from St. Francis brought the over-zealous bishop back to 
his own style of preaching, much to the comfort of his hearers. 

As in his preaching, so in his entire life Francis was the 
determined enemy of singularity. In the hope of discovering 
the secret of his friend's extraordinary sanctity, Bishop Camus 
adopted an amusing device. While the Bishop of Geneva was 
paying the Bishop of Beiley one of the visits that the two friends 
annually exchanged, the latter had some peep-holes bored in the 
wall that separated his room from his guest's, and whenever his 
friend was alone he took observations that resulted in the con- 
viction that the Bishop of Geneva prayed, and meditated, and 
read, and slept just as other people did. What the visitor 
thought of this loving espionage I do not know, but I am certain 
that Bishop Camus was too ingenuous not to have made a clean 
breast of the whole matter. Replete as the book is with such 
bits of biography and autobiography, it is also, for St. Francis de 
Sales, the best compendium of his doctrine. 

In all the narrations of his life we meet with charming things 



260 A SEIGNEUR OF HEARTS. [May, 

concerning our saint. We are told of his gracious hospitality, 
and of the various ways in which, with his unerring gift of mak- 
ing people happy, he strove to interest and amuse his guests ; of 
his charity and humility, his moderation, his unobtrusive pen- 
ances and mortifications, his evangelical love of his enemies, and 
his constant practice of a thousand other virtues, for with the 
saints the virtues are the rounds of a ladder, from one of which 
they mount steadily to another. He had the greatest love for 
"the little virtues," those rough diamonds that pave the road of 
ordinary, commonplace people, and which are so often kicked 
aside as so many worthless pebbles. Kindness and amiability he 
could never extol sufficiently. We all know his maxim that " a 
spoonful of honey will catch more flies than a thousand barrels 
of vinegar." We all know, too, his opinion that a truly humble 
i-person is not the one who has most ill to say of himself, but the 
one who entirely ignores himself. To adopt this criterion would 
:go far towards convincing us that we are all Uriah Heeps at 
rheart. By way of persuading ourselves of the unwiseness of 
.airing our grievances against ourselves, it would be well to 
remember that St. Francis always took a certain humorous 
^pleasure in gravely accepting the exaggerated self-depreciations 
of mock-humble people and treating them as the most matter-of- 
fact of truths. Self-love, with all its ingenious defences, he 
thoroughly understood and knew always how to detect. Indeed, 
it was a saying of his that " our self-love only dies a quarter of 
an hour after we do." 

None of his biographers fail to tell us of his kindness to his ser- 
vants. He had a favorite valet, who was so devoted to his master 
that he bubbled over with indignation at the saint whenever the 
latter ventured to make his toilet without waiting for the valet's 
assistance. It was to this young man, of whom he was very fond, 
that the saint one day, for reasons that had common-sense 
decidedly on their side, gave some excellent anti-Matrimonial 
advice, ending with the remark: " Matrimony is an order wherein 
profession precedes the noviceship. Could there be a year of 
probation, as in cloisters, few indeed would profess." 

And yet, incredible though it may seem, the valet was actually 
assisted by his master to take the plunge into matrimony he so 
much desired. How ? Well, let me tell you the story. It hap- 
pened one day that the bishop rang several times for his attend- 
ant without getting any response. Wondering a little what 
could be the cause off his unusual tardiness, the amiable prelate 
determined to make inquiries personally, and so went on tip-toe 



1889.] A SEIGNEUR OF HEARTS. :6: 

to the valet's quarters, where he found the delinquent seated at 
his table, surrounded by blotted and crumpled sheets of paper, 
his face wearing that indescribable look which has but one of two 
meanings, either that a man is losing his reason, or that he is 
writing a love-letter. The saint's profound knowledge of human 
nature probably assured hun that his valet was in the latter 
plight, and, after quietly watching the luckless scribe's frantic 
attacks upon the unresponsive ink-pot, he gently inquired the 
cause of all this agitation. In a moment the valet was on his 
knees, the picture of confusion and humiliation, and the bishop 
was heartily laughing as he held out his hand for the letter, after 
hearing the youth's incoherent explanations. After some demur 
the valet, reassured by the tone of his gentle master, stammered 
out that it was a letter to his dear one, and gave the blotted tes- 
tament of his affection into the bishop's hand. St. Francis, after 
reading it, smilingly shook his head and said : " Ah ! but this will 
never win her. Let me show you how to set about it." Accord- 
ingly, he seated himself at the table, and wrote such a letter that 
the valet's happiness, if he was right in supposing marriage-bells 
could assure it, was evermore secured. 

A trait as admirable in the good bishop's character as his 
fatherly kindness to those in his service was his tender affection 
for little children. Whenever he appeared in the streets of 
Annecy he was instantly surrounded by children, who formed 
themselves into a body-guard to escort him wherever he was 
going, much to the disgust of the dignified and decorous eccle- 
siastics who sometimes accompanied their bishop. It is easy to 
believe that the saint who was so fond of Christ's little ones had 
a corner of his capacious heart specially reserved for the holy 
attachments of friendship. In truth, numbers of friends, devoted, 
true, and sympathetic, he had, but Grief was a frequent visitor to 
his affectionate heart. Not only father and mother and several, 
brothers and sisters did he follow with sorrowing soul to the 
grave, but many well-beloved friends were also numbered 
among those for whom he mourned. Not of those who pre- 
ceded him to the tomb was the friend whose soul was most akin 
to his, who is most indissolubly connected with his life and 
work. A grand and noble figure is this Jane Frances Fremiot, 
Baroness de Chantal, whom St. Francis called friend and whom 
the church calls saint. 

The restrictions of space, not those of inclination, forbid my 
lingering over the details of the life and character of this holy 
widow who shares with Francis de Sales the honor of having 
Bounded the order of Visitation Nuns. For brevity's sake 



262 A SEIGNEUR OF HEARTS. [May, 

adopting the cold and superlative terms which we are so fond 
of using where superiority, particularly the superiority of sanc- 
tity, is in question, let me describe her merely as a most re- 
markable woman. Never was there an earthly friendship more 
devoid of all earthliness than that which united her to the 
Bishop of Geneva. Its beginning was the result of heavenly in- 
spiration, and its continued influence upon both souls was no less 
heavenly. I never read more charming letters than those writ- 
ten by the bishop to Madame de Chantal. In them, delightfully 
and unaffectedly mingled with spiritual counsel and comfort, are 
dainty bits of description, quaint philosophy, charming droller- 
ies. These letters show us the paternal care with which he 
watched over the spiritual and temporal welfare of Madame de 
ChantaFs children, the story of whose lives is as sad as it is in- 
teresting. The eldest of these children, the beautiful-souled 
Marie Aym6e, ended her innocent life a short time after her 
marriage to Bernard de Sales, the brother who was dearest to 
Francis' heart, and whose death upon the battle-field left his 
young wife desolate as a flower broken from its stem. The 
letter to the Baroness de Chantal in which the saint deplores 
the death of these two beings so dear to both of them is a model 
of tender apd saintly condolence. 

And what his letters to this dear friend were, that, in scarcely 
less degree, were the letters written to his numerous other 
friends, to the many other souls that found in his guidance the 
way to peace and true happiness. Many were the passionate, 
unhappy hearts, consuming themselves with wretchedness and 
unrest, as such hearts have a foolish way of doing, who found 
rest and soothing in his counsels. He simplified the means to a 
devout life. By his help the narrow road became, not indeed 
less narrow, but more attractive and more flowery. With St. 
Francis the reign of the Beatitudes seemed about to establish 
itself on earth. It could have been said of the souls under his 
direction as it was of the early Christians, " See how they love 
one another ! ' 

He firmly combated melancholy in all its forms, from fierce 
depression to languid sadness, with the incidental evils of worry- 
ing and hurrying. The " blue devils" of our nineteenth century 
he would have had little patience with. The sunshine of his 
words and spirit would have sent them scurrying off from us. 
His aim was to enforce content and courage and cheerful 
patience in the path of daily duty. Just as constantly did he en- 
deavor to implant in the souls under his care the seeds of that 
divine joy, of all gifts the most blessed, which was ever burning 



1 889-] A SEIGNEUR OF HEARTS. 263 

in his heart, animating his gentle voice, illuminating his amiable 
countenance. It was also his endeavor to kindle in these souls 
a love for the beautiful devotion to the Sacred Heart, at once the 
most practical and poetical of all devotions, which he was the 
first to publicly advocate, but which these latter times have the 
honor of having brought to its full development. 

Of his devotional writings, the most comprehensive and best 
known are the Introduction to a Devout Life and the treatise on 
the Love of God. The preface of the letters answers the purpose 
of a brief literary autobiography. These two books caused 
almost as much of a sensation in the world of letters as in the 
devotional world, for the literary style of the Bishop of Geneva, 
the best French critics have decided, serves as a model of clear- 
ness, elegance, and simplicity. Pope Pius IX. was indeed nobly 
inspired when, in 1877, after raising St. Francis de Sales to the 
honor of a Doctor of the Church, he pronounced him the patron 
of Catholic writers. 

After twenty years of faithful and unremitting work among 
his people, Francis began to think more earnestly of the design 
he had long cherished, of resigning the tares of his episcopate 
and retiring to some quiet spot where he could follow in the 
footsteps of the Fathers of the Desert, and devote himself unre- 
servedly to his literary labors and to the contemplation of 
eternal things. It was the dream of solitude that has always 
been the pet vision of the saints, and that has been realized by 
very few. St. Francis was not to be of this number. His song 
of rest was not to be sung till his voice blended with the music 
of the eternal harmonies. 

In November, 1622, the bishop accepted the invitation of the 
Duke of Savoy to accompany his court to Avignon, where they 
were joined by Louis XIII. and the French court, and then set 
out together for Lyons. In that city Francis did not join in' 
many of the festivities of the court, but divided his time between 
good works of every sort and preaching. His strength began to 
grow less, though his exertions did not diminish. On the 27th 
of December, after saying Mass, preaching, and following his 
ordinary round of duties, he made several visits of ceremony de- 
volving upon him and returned to his apartments, but had scarce- 
ly exchanged a few kind words with his faithful valet when he 
fell to the floor in a swoon. It was the beginning of the end. 
He never again rose from the bed on which he was tenderly 
laid. On the evening of the next day, the 28th of December, he 
rendered back his pure soul to its Creator. 



264 A SEIGXEUK OF HEARTS. [May, 

The news of the illness of the Bishop of Geneva had scarcely 
spread through the town before the solemn ringing of the great 
bell of the cathedral told the people that this seigneur of hearts 
was dead. Even the deep tones of the bell seemed to vibrate 
with a throb of grief that the beloved of the people had gone 
from among them. There were sad hearts in Lyons that night, 
and when the news reached his own dear Savoy there was 
weeping and crying aloud for the lost bishop who had been to 
his well-beloved people of Annecy and to his loved but ungrate- 
ful Geneva a friend and a father. 

It was not till the 2pth of January, a month after his death, 
that the mortal remains of Francis de Sales were interred at An- 
necy, much to the jealous distress of the people of Lyons, where 
the bishop had always been a favorite, and the people of Geneva. 
The occasion of his interment was also the occasion of a last 
proof of his friendship for Madame de Chantai. We are told 
that when she approached the bier the right hand of the dead 
saint raised itself as if to bless her. 

It seemed, in truth, as if the spirit of the good bishop still 
lingered lovingly among his people, as if, not having known 
how to refuse a request during his earthly life, he could not, 
from his heavenly home, learn to look less kindly upon his sup- 
pliants. During his lifetime miraculous powers had sometimes 
been given him, as when, during his apostolate of Chablais, at his 
prayer a Calvinist widow's child had been brought back to life. 
After his death an extraordinary number of well-authenticated 
miracles spread the news of his sanctity abroad and increased 
the popular love and reverence in which his memory was held. 

In October, 1661, Francis de Sales was beatified by the de- 
cree of Alexander VII. Four years afterwards the* same pontiff 
ordained that the ceremony of the bishop's canonization take 
place, and that his feast-day be celebrated throughout the Catho- 
lic world on the 2gth of January of each year. 

Let us not only salute St. Frances de Sales, Bishop, Confes- 
sor, and Doctor of the Church, as patron of Catholic writers, but 
as patron of all of us who are within the pale of the Church ; for 
the lesson we need most is that which poet and saint alike 
teach : 

" He prayeth best who loveth best 

All things both great and small ; 
For the dear God who loveth us, 
He made and loveth all." 

ELWARD Eu. 



.] TALK ABOUT NEW BOOKS. 265 



TALK ABOUT NEW BOOKS. 

THE late Laurence Oliphant was a man who, in addition to a 
singularly versatile genius, seems to have possessed in an excep- 
tional degree the courage of his convictions. An Englishman of 
wealth and excellent position, shrewd, observant, practical ; an 
adventurer in the best sense of that word; a diplomatist, a sug- 
gestive and entertaining novelist, his interior life, as revealed in 
his latest work, Scientific Religion (Buffalo: Charles A. Wen- 
borne), the American edition of which appeared soon after his 
recent death, seems to have had an intimate correspondence 
with this varied exterior. In his " sub-surface consciousness," to 
adopt one of his own expressions, he was also an adventurer, an 
explorer, a seeker-out of things new and strange, and finally, as 
he professed and, we doubt not, as he most sincerely believed, 
a commissioned reconciler of difficulties and bearer of messages 
from on high. 

The account he gives of the genesis of a book which we find 
interesting in spite of its prolixity, right in intention in spite of 
frequent vagaries, and abounding in true things, juxtaposited 
though they are with glaring errors and fantastic dreams, is sub- 
stantially that he received its contents by inspiration, through 
the instrumentality of his first wife, who died about, a year be- 
fore it was written. Mrs. Oliphant is said by those who knew 
her to have been a woman of great force of mind and elevation 
of character, and the brief account given on page 60 of this vol- 
ume of the nature of the discipline to which the pair voluntarily 
submitted themselves during a period of years, with the single 
hope of thus rendering themselves " more available instruments 
in God's hands," inclines the reader to believe their testimony. 
The total inference to be drawn from this and other books of its 
author is that the relations between the pair differed radically 
from those of ordinary marriage. The union between them was 
what Mr. Oliphant describes as 

"a condition of moral and intellectual affinity which was the result of 
a long and arduous effort, extending over many years. . . . The effect of 
this internal connection was to mitigate to an inconceivable degree the 
sense of loss which at first threatened to overwhelm me when she passed 
into her present sphere of usefulness; for she was soon able to reach me 
through the internal tie which had been formed by this interlocking of our 
finer-grained material atoms while in the flesh, and it was only during the 
short interval consequent upon th^ir dislocation from the atoms of ordi- 
nary matter that my suffering was acute." 



266 TALK ABOUT NEW BOOKS. [May, 

The obvious inference to be drawn from such a statement 
would seem to be that Mr. Oliphant was a spiritualist. But 
though, prior to 1865, he had devoted a good deal of time to in- 
vestigating the phenomena of mediumship, he appears to have 
ended by holding no belief with reference to the world of unseen 
intelligences substantially different from that common to all 
nominal Christians, though intensely realized by few outside 
of the Catholic Church. He denounces all attempts to open 
communication with the unseen by means of spiritualism and 
experiments in hypnotism, as dangerous in the highest degree, 
simply because they open the door to invasion from the infernal 
forces. His book begins with the statement of his belief that a 
final struggle is now impending, so far as our planet is concern- 
ed, between these forces and the heavenly ones, while in the un- 
seen universe it is already raging. In common with many an- 
other seer who differs from him in what seem fundamental 
respects, he holds that the present is the age of the Holy Spirit, 
of individual enlightenment and responsibility, and of intense in- 
terior, and, very possibly, of exterior, warfare as well, in which 
all that opposes itself against God and his Christ will be finally 
and for ever overcome. Such a conflict, as he says truly enough, 
" is anticipated in all the existing forms of religion, down to 
those which may almost be called heathen superstitions antici- 
pated by a dumb instinct in the minds of men who cannot be 
said to have any religion." It is for this reason that he urges, 
and believes himself divinely inspired to urge, upon all who be- 
come aware of a call from above to this warfare, the necessity of 
self-discipline, and purity of life and motive. 

It would be impossible to condense into the space at our 
disposal any fully intelligible account of this bulky volume. 
The first part comprises a discussion of the nature and value of 
inspiration ; an effort to justify the title of " scientific " by show- 
ing what a tangible basis the atomic constitution of the universe 
furnishes for communication between the unseen and the seen ; 
a rapid study of various religious systems, and a more extended 
one of Christianity, as Mr. Oliphant gathers that from his-private 
study of the Bible and his "inspired " penetration into its hidden 
sense. These occupy nearly half the volume. The second part 
is devoted, in the first place, to an unfolding of the hidden sense 
thus discovered, especially in the books of Genesis and the Reve- 
lations of St. John. Mr. Oliphant finds no difficulty in being 
dogmatic, and we find none in believing his expressions of 
humility about it to be genuine, even when the matter of his 



'.] TALK ABOUT NEW BOOKS. 267 

statements causes a smile of amusement or a frown of indigna- 
tion. As he very naively remarks : 

" It is not because I imagine myself to be any better than others, or 
more favored than others, or, so far as I am aware, have any personal feel- 
ing in the matter, that I enter upon this task, but simply because I feel it 
imposed upon me as a sacred duty, from which I dare not shrink. If I am 
obliged to make statements dogmatically, which are incapable of proof by 
a process of reasoning, it is because, when one is absolutely certain of a fact, 
it is difficult to speak of it otherwise than dogmatically, even if it is not 
susceptible of proof. Thus I may be conscious of having pain in some part 
of my body in consequence of a remedy which I had applied, and state 
it as an absolute fact ; though it may be quite impossible for me to prove 
it except by saying to those who doubt me, 'Apply the same remedy and 
you will feel the same pain.'" 

It should be remarked, just here, that Mr. Oliphant does not 
believe his experiences to be exceptional, save so far as they may 
be narrowly individual. To make one's self a channel for the 
Holy Spirit, or, as he usually prefers to say, the Holy Pneuma, 
or the Divine Feminine, he holds that all that is necessary is a 
rigid discipline of the lower nature, protracted through years, 
an ardent love for humanity, and a profound faith in God and in 
Jesus Christ, 

" Who was such an incarnation of divine inspiration as was never 
manifested upon the earth, either before or since, and who is now the 
radiative centre of the seen and unseen worlds. . . . All inspirations which 
ignore Him as their source, through whatever channel they may come, de- 
generate into speculative theories." 

But in spite of this avowal, and also of his belief in the mira- 
culous birth of our Lord, and the absolute necessity of a vital, 
actual connection with His Sacred Humanity for those who 
would live His life, Mr. Oliphant denies His essential divinity. 
And his training, his lack of real knowledge, shown elsewhere in 
his discussion of the doctrine of the Trinity, which we think 
he misapprehended rather than disbelieved, and his prejudices, 
combining to blind him concerning that true communion with 
His humanity which our Lord provided for, he is compelled to 
recur to the atomic theory for his proof that the blood of Christ 
was shed for man's salvation in order that its atoms might be- 
come an integral portion of our earth, and so be distributed 
throughout its length and breadth for ever. 

However, all this is but preliminary to Mr. Oliphant's true 
theme, which is an endeavor to show what is the real nature of 
the " earth malady," whence it proceeded, and how alone it may 
be cured. He begins his exegesis of Genesis with the bold 



268 TALK ABOUT NEW BOOKS. [May, 

statement that the " man " whose " creation ' is recorded in the 
first chapter of Genesis, who was made in the image of God, and 
to whom all dominion was given over creatures, " was called 
Adam, or Adam Cadmon," and that he was immeasurably supe- 
rior to the Adam who was "formed out of the slime of the earth ' 
and into whose face the Lord " breathed the breath of life ' 
before he " became a living soul," as recorded in the second 
chapter. The first earth, says Mr. Oliphant, was likewise far 
superior to its successor, on which we live, and Adam Cadmon, 
having fallen, through a perverse exercise of his free-will, be- 
came Satan. He was 

"invested with powers almost equal to the Deity could control all 
the principles represented in the nature by which he was surrounded, and 
possessed the divine attributes to such a high degree that, when his will 
became perverted, he imagined himself to be equal, if not superior, to God. 
On this insane delusion taking possession of his mind, and the Divine 
Feminine principle within him having become perverted, he represented 
instead the infernal feminine or lust principle, as his name Satan implies. 
. . . Henceforth the object of the infernals was to close the creation which 
was about to come into existence and which is our world to the opera- 
tion of the Divine Feminine, and to substitute for it the infernal feminine ; 
an-d the struggle between the . . . unfallen and the fallen angels has been 
carried on in man over this principle ever since " (p. 226-7). 



Concerning this exposition, and others which bear a strong re- 
semblance to cabalistic teaching, Mr. Oliphant remarks that they 
are such as have been "shown " to him, and that though they are 
"to some extent supported by the Kabalah, they are in nowise 
drawn from it." He felt bound to begin by them "for the pur- 
pose of explaining the origin of the moral malady from which 
this world is suffering, in order to elucidate the nature of the 
remedy to be applied." That malady he declares to be the per- 
version of the sex-principle, introduced by the disobedience of 
" Adam Cadmon ' into the world described in the first chapter 
of Genesis, and which transcended the present one in ways not 
possible for the limited intellect of existing man to comprehend. 
Of him and his companions, who, " like all beings in their es- 
sence, were bi-sexual," he says: 

"They were patterned closely after the divine image, with an absolute 
freedom of will, and powers of a stupendous character. In accordance with 
the divine method of rule, there was one among them in whom supreme 
authority was vested. His faculties transcended anything of which we 
have any idea, and in him originated the idea that his will, which was free, 
was his own, and not God's freedom acting in him. The consequences 
which resulted to humanity from this false conception we shall see later. 



1889.] TALK ABOUT NEW BOOKS. 269 

It produced a conflict in the 'Day-Star,' to use Isaiah's nomenclature, and 
there was ' war in heaven,' Michael and those who clung to the true con- 
ception of free-will rebelling against the authority of the Prince of Dark- 
ness, who is since known as Satan. It was the supreme position with which 
the latter was endowed which gave rise to the tradition, recorded in Jude, 
that Michael, disputing with Satan 'about the body of Moses, durst not bring 
against him a railing accusation,' but could only say, 'The Lord rebuke 
thee!' 

" This passage is deeply interesting, as throwing light upon the relations 
which subsist between the fallen and the unfallen parts of the preceding, or 
Elohistic, universe. Though divided into two hostile camps, and though it 
underwent a violent atomic dislocation on the occasion of the conflict 
which took place between the opposing will-principles, it still forms but 
one universe, and the collision continues between the antagonistic forces ; 
nor can the magnetic contact by which they are united be severed. This 
contact is both direct and indirect. Direct as between the two hostile por- 
tions in the region they occupy, and indirect through both the visible and 
invisible portions of our universe. And here I feel compelled to make a 
statement which it has been necessary thus to lead up to, but which does, 
in fact, furnish us with a key to the mystery of our complex earthly exist- 
ence. 

" Races are generated through a primal pair. The primal pair, in the case 
of the world preceding our own, were called Adam, or Adam Cadmon. 
And it was the perversion of the will-principle by this Adam Cadmon, who 
was supreme in his universe, which produced the catastrophe. In other 
words, the first Adam mentioned in the Bible has become the Devil, or 
Satan, who wages perpetual war against his Maker, and whose rebellion was 
succeeded by an atomic dislocation in his outer organism, which involved a 
divorce from his own feminine complement; and by a conflict between the 
male and female principles in that region of the fallen universe in which 

still exercises rule." 



In our own planet, which, according to Mr. Oliphant, emerg- 
ed from the destruction of the primal abode of Adam Cadmon 
and his race, and which, owing to its formation from the " physi- 
cal ddbris " of its predecessor, is still *' atomically interlocked ' 
with it, the " grosser and far more material " Adam who is our 
ancestor, was "formed out of the dust of the ground," and is 
"closely allied in atomic structure to the nature by which he is 
surrounded." That there was not found for Adam " a helpmeet 
for him," and that God formed one from one of his ribs, behold- 
ing whom he said : " This is bone of my bones and flesh of my 
flesh. . . . Wherefore a man shall leave father and mother and 
cleave unto his wife," 

"signifies that these principles '' (the male and female) "are absolutely in- 
severable, and are inherent in every man and in every woman long before the 
moment of birth. Though neither may know in mortal life who the com- 
plementary being is, each person is born with an atomic structure, the 



270 TALK ABOUT NEW BOOKS. [May, 

particles of which are interlocked with those of the complementary being, 
and must be so to all time. ... It is not possible, however, for two beings 
who are thus interlocked to pass into two opposite regions ; for inasmuch 
as an internal attraction is constantly drawing their souls together, though 
their bodies may be far apart, and inasmuch as the atomic quality of their 
affections or passions is essentially one, they always develop in the same 
direction. The upward or downward tendency is common to both, because 
they are essentially not two but one " (p. 234). 

We have quoted enough more than enough, possibly to 
give a suggestion of Mr. Oliphant's drift. To give more than a 
suggestion of a very full book, of which much the greater part 
is devoted to clearing up the ground in the way we have tried 
to indicate, is impossible. What he was driving at, as a point 
which to his mind it seemed practical to reach, and use as a ful- 
crum from which to move the moral and religious world from its 
stagnation to a healthier life, was his doctrine that the new de- 
scent of the Holy Spirit will manifest itself through such of 
these " complementary beings " as are not only developing up- 
ward, but have arrived at the consciousness of their dual nature. 
They may, in rare instances, according to the new seer, be living 
on this earth at the same time, but that they should know each 
other here is improbable. The one who is still in the flesh will 
become conscious of its mate on high, and the consciousness, if 
real, will testify of Jesus Christ. It will come to none who are 
not pure, with an ideal purity, in both heart and life. Hence the 
book is in part a healthy protest against that view of marriage, 
too common, as every one knows, which sees in it more than a 
means to the divinely appointed ends of chaste union and the 
perpetuity of the human species. We do not recommend its 
perusal for various reasons, of which one is the fact that 
it would be extremely unlikely to interest the general reader, 
and another is that its denials of truths which Catholic Chris- 
tians hold sacred denials totally unnecessary in view of its 
general bearing, and as often as not caused by sheer mis- 
conception on Mr. Oliphant's part would be sure to cause a 
righteous repugnance in their minds. Nevertheless we have 
found it in many ways useful and suggestive. Not only does 
it deal with subjects which fourteen centuries ago interest- 
ed the average Christian perhaps more profoundly than their 
manuals of instruction and devotion do their successors of to- 
day, but it is the sincere work of a sincere and able man. But he 
lacked the fulness of revealed truth, the sure prop and guide of 
Holy Church, and the strength drawn from the Supersubstantial 
Bread without which he truly felt that man cannot live the new 



1889.] TALK ABOUT NEW BOOKS. 271 

life, and the want of which he tried to supply by means of a 
hypothetical " atomic connection' with the shed blood of Him 
whom he called his Master and his Lord. 

The first number of a series called " Gleanings from Foreign 
Authors," published in New York by John Delay, seems happily 
selected. It contains a trifling but pleasant sketch called A Love 
Match, by Ludovic Halevy, the well-known author of L Abbe" 
Constantm, followed by an extremely bright and amusing novel- 
ette by a better writer than Halevy, Victor Cherbuliez " of the 
French Academy." King Apepi is the title of the latter, the en- 
deavor of the hero to make out to his own satisfaction that " the 
Pharaoh under whom Joseph became minister was indeed Apo- 
phis or Apepi, King of the Hyksos," being the slender, elastic 
thread on which are strung his misadventure in falling into love 
and his good fortune in falling out of it. A good engraving of 
Jean Francois Millet's " Sower " adorns the cover of the volume, 
which is well printed on good paper. 

A Happy Find (New York : T. Y. Crowell & Co.) is another 
entertaining and innocent translation from the French of Madame 
Gagnebin. It is the work of a Protestant, and the very good 
person in it is " Aunt Martha, the Huguenot." It is she that 
adopts Aimee, the " happy find " of little Roland, who develops 
later on into an Americanized hero. But there is no religious 
discussion in the story, which is simply told and likely to be in- 
teresting to young readers whose palates are yet unspoiled by 
too highly seasoned fiction. 

The sixth novel of "George Fleming," which is the pen- 
name of Miss Julia Fletcher, is called The Truth about Clement Ker 
(Boston : Roberts Brothers). The truth about that eccentric gen- 
tleman and execrable husband, which at times the reader begins to 
hope may be properly blood-curdling and yet full of explicable 
mysteries, seems on the whole to be that he was addicted to 
opium-eating as a means of escape from ghostly terrors. The 
ghost is not well managed, as ghosts go in these days of Psychi- 
cal Societies. A ghost really capable of killing ,two men at a 
blow, but which, after the most excellent chance to escape from its 
hiding-place, would permit itself to be fastened in by a piece of 
tape with Sir Clement's seal affixed, and never budge one unsub- 
stantial foot on its errand of destruction until somebody broke 
the tape, is just the kind of a ghost the novel-reader cannot get 
up an honest belief in. And a ghost Jhat cannot be believed in 
is evidently worse than no ghost at all. " George Fleming ' is 
an agreeable writer. She manages the strictly human part of 



272 TALK ABOUT NEW BOOKS. [May, 

her story well, paints a landscape charmingly, and can give an 
hour's easily forgotten pleasure whicji leaves no ill-taste behind 
it. But " clever * is a sufficiently comprehensive adjective for 
any book of hers which we have seen. 

For the first time Professor Hardy secures all our suffrages. 
His romance, Passe Rose (Boston and New York : Houghton, 
MifHin & Co.), is altogether charming; neither in plan nor exe- 
cution, neither in scenes, in characters, nor in style, would we 
have it other than it is for our own pleasure. And yet the time 
chosen is the time of Charlemagne, more than a thousand years 
back, therefore ; and he who compasses a space so great, and so 
adjusts it to the view that his reader, while conscious both of 
the strangeness and the charm, is neither repelled by awkward 
modernisms nor irritated by cheap and ill-chosen archaisms, can- 
not be less than a consummate artist. The story is not one to 
be talked about and discussed in parts, for, although it has both 
well-contrived plot and incident in plenty, it yet remains in 
memory as a series of charming pictures, so delicately conceived 
and finished that they seem to rise spontaneously, like a mirage, 
and one's impulse is simply to enjoy, and to call others to enjoy- 
ment. Yet the workmanship is substantial and masterly, and the 
characters stand out clear cut and full of life. Who will ever for- 
get Passe Rose again, her beauty, her vigor, her pure love and 
sane, sweet womanliness, after once making her acquaintance? 

Lovell's International Series opens its career with an old- 
fashioned story by Mrs. Katharine S. Macquoid, called Miss Eyon 
of Eyon Court. There is a terrible old lady in it, who will not 
forgive her brother on his death-bed, and who locks up the poor 
little heroine in a barred chamber with stuffed walls in order to 
persuade her by such means to marry a good-looking scoundrel 
who turns out to be the grandson of the old lady, hitherto sup- 
posed the most rigidly respectable of maiden ladies. Then there 
is a middle-aged, rather plain, and twice-rejected lover, who 
turns up just in time to rescue the young lady from a Clarissa- 
Harlowe-like position after she has escaped from the barred 
room and got into still worse difficulties in a lonely cabin on a 
desolate moor, and who is properly rewarded by being accepted 
with thanks on the occasion of his third proposal. But the story 
is rather tame reading, notwithstanding. 

: 

' 



. 



WITH READERS AND CORRESPONDENTS. 273 



WITH READERS AND CORRESPONDENTS. 

PUBLIC MORALITY AND THE SCHOOL QUESTION. 

The following paragraph recently appeared in the Pittsburgh Press : 

" If Father Sheedy would follow up the crusade which he opened yesterday in his sermon 
against unlicensed resorts of evil in his parish until every one of them was wiped out of exist- 
ence, this city could afford to present him with the handsomest school-house in the common- 
wealth." 

The framer of that sentence builded better than he knew. He unconsciously 
formulated the solution of the difficulty between the Catholic Church and the 
state. If you put down the saloon, says the citizen, I will put up your school. It 
means this : if that is the sort of thing you priests and people of the Catholic 
Church can do, " this city can afford to present you " with a school-house. If I 
pay for a prison in which to punish crime, why can't I pay for a school in 
which to prevent it ? If the priest who puts down dives and saloons puts up a 
school, it is likely to train children to become worthy citizens. If you affirm, says 
the citizen to Father Sheedy, that this school is calculated to prevent crime and 
that school is not thus calculated, your opinion is entitled to consideration, for it 
is manifest that you hate crime and know how to put it down. 

It is very fortunate that Father Morgan M. Sheedy's fierce quarrel with the 
public-school bigots of Pittsburgh happened at the same time as his quarrel with 
the dive-keepers in his parish of St. Mary of Mercy. No doubt the mass of his 
parishioners are good average Christians, yet the saloons and dives in his neigh- 
borhood must be supported in great part by men and women who acknowledge 
him as their pastor. The children of such people, and of all who are subjected 
to the same danger, need moral and religious schooling, and all that they can get 
of it. The commonly assigned purpose for building a Catholic school is the 
preservation of the faith. Now, how many born Catholics are lost for want of 
faith ? Not very many. How many are lost on account of drunken parents ? 
Vast numbers. In discussing the school question, the conspicuous place given 
by the Catholic side of the controversy to the office of the school in regard to 
sound doctrine has misled many honest Protestants. They do not want to give 
their taxes for any such school. In their minds the school question is strictly and 
solely a question of creeds. The scope of state education cannot embrace a 
school whose only great purpose is to produce orthodox Catholicity. Citizenship 
the state can pay for and ought, but in this country religion as such is entitled to 
respect and fair play, and nothing more, unless in some of its particular functions 
it contributes directly to good citizenship. The parochial school-building is 
eloquent of the faith of a priest and people, and of their fear of doctrinal error ; 
their pulpit should be, like Father Sheedy's, eloquent of their hatred of vice and 
their love of morality. Where priest and people work together for good citizen- 
ship even in their church, much rather will they do so in their school. The long 
hours and chief work of the parish school are devoted to training in the secular 
branches ; they are the proximate preparation for the secular life. Religion is 
necessary, then, not only for sound doctrine, but as the only reliable influence to 
secure moral cleanliness in the secular life. It is as a moral influence that it 
VOL. XLIX. 18 



274 WITH READERS AND CORRESPONDENTS. [May, 

recomTiends itself to the state good sense and experience bear testimony to its 
effectiveness and makes the state its debtor. 

Every priest who, like Father Sheedy, is a fearless and outspoken enemy of 
vice and corruption in his neighborhood is the most potent advocate of Christian 
education. 

4 





A correspondent asks for direction in examining the topics of papal infalli- 
frility and devotion to the Blessed Virgin. On the first topic, the following works 
may be recommended as perhaps the best among many good ones : De Religione 
et Ecclesia, by Cardinal Mazzella, published at Rome, and probably to be had 
through the Benzigers ; Petri Privilegium, written in English, by Cardinal 
Manning, London, Longmans, 1871 ; The Pope and the Church, Part II., 
" Infallibility," by F. Paul Bottalla, S.J., London, Burns & Gates, 1870; Cathedra 
Petri, by Mr. Allnatt, 3d edit., London, Burns & Gates, 1883, a work specially 
rich in authorities and critical notes on the same. The series of volumes by Mr. 
Allies, under the general title The Formation of Christendom, are not in the 
category of controversial writings, but they cast much light of historical informa- 
tion on the topics of controversy. 

An excellent work on Marian devotion is the Virgin Mary, by F. Raphael 
Melia, Longmans, 1868. A. F. H. 



o i^Jtel eirfT 

READING CIRCLES. 

Those who have perused the various communications lately published under 
the head of Reading Circles in THE CATHOLIC WORLD will be especially in- 
terested in this letter from the honorary secretary of St. Anselm's Society, Very 
Rev. Provost Wenham, from which we quote as follows : 

" I have read with great interest the papers you have been good enough to 
send to me on Reading Circles. I wish your movement all success, for indis- 
criminate reading is one of the greatest dangers of our time. If I can help you 

c? o <p 

in any way I shall be glad to do so. 

" We go on the plan of not aiming too high. We cannot expect Catholics to 
read only Catholic books, but we select the best of the Catholic books, and the 
best and safest non-Catholic standard works, so as to give plenty of interesting 
reading and leave them no cause to complain that they are debarred from a reason- 
able amount of intellectual recreation. 

" Hoping to hear from you again, etc. J. G. WENHAM.'' 

In response to the invitation extended to authors, asking for their views on 
Reading Circles, one of our correspondents writes : " Certainly if authors have an 
interest in their own productions they will offer their assistance now. It ought 
surely to be a mutual benefit. The increased demand for their works will natu- 
rally follow." 

Much can be claimed for the financial assistance and encouragement liberally 
given to American writers by THE CATHOLIC WORLD. In its pages many of 
the best recent stones have been first published, among which may be mentioned 
A Woman of Culture and Solitary Island, from the same hand which wrote the 
following letter: 



i8?9-] WITH READERS AND CORRESPONDENTS. 275 

" As a Catholic writer I am thoroughly interested in the idea of the Reading Circles. In 
this country the author who writes a Catholic story has no audience and no publisher. Secular 
publishing houses will not take his books, and religious ones cannot afford to take them. They 
do not pay the publisher, even when the author has paid half the expenses of publication. 

' By a Catholic book I mean not a professedly religious book on religious topics, but one 
in which Catholic principles must appear in one shape or another, whatever the subject-mat- 
ter be. 

" With few or none to read his books, the Catholic author must either become his own pub- 
lisher or suppress himself, alternatives which mean the same thing. 

' The Reading Club may have many aims, but this one result it will surely have : it will 
give the poor author his readers and his admirers, his little checks and some healthy applause. 
He will no longer feel bound to apologize to well-read Catholics for writing a book of which 
they know nothing, and his friends will not be afraid to introduce him to others by his literary 
name. The happy publishers of his second and third editions will bless him and shave him, 
and though he may die poor, he will still be richer than Augustus, who had to ask at the last 
moment for final applause. 

"Author and publisher will thus be benefited by the Reading Clubs. 

"JOHN TALBOT SMITH." 

Space will not permit us to print all the letters received. As showing that 
an interest is manifested for the success of the Reading Circles in many localitif s, 
we mention only the initials of the writers and their place of residence. Letters 
have come from J. C. J., Cleveland, O.; E. A. McM., Roxbury, Mass.; M. G. H., 
Summit, N. J.; M. A. S., Cincinnati, O.; L. M. C., Cincinnati, O.; T. G. R., Hav- 
erhill, Mass.; F. E., Cambridgeport, Mass.; A. M. E. H., Buffalo, N. Y.; F.S. P., 
Mobile, Ala.; M. M., Cincinnati, O.; J. P. L., Boston, Mass. 

This letter contains valuable suggestions : 

" An attempt was made here a few years ago to form a class in church history by a lady 
who is deeply interested in this matter. It was unsuccessful in spite of her zealous efforts, 
owing partly to the fact that the reading was done together instead of at home, as is now in- 
tended. Too much time was expended for the results attained. I think, however, occasional 
meetings would be beneficial. They might be necessary in case readers exchanged books, as 
Catholic works are not easily obtained by the generality. 

" We have in a good public library, to which I am a frequent visitor. THE CATHOLIC 

WORLD and the local Catholic newspaper are in the reading-room. Knowing there were a 
number of Catholic works in the circulating department, but wishing to be more accurately 
informed, I laid the case before the librarian. I met with the utmost courtesy, and was given 
all possible aid by the librarian and attendants. 

" Unfortunately for my purpose, the library is in a transition state between the old and new 
catalogues. The Catholic books are generally new ones. It will be about eight months before 
the new catalogue is ready, as they have only reached ' K.' 

" I was allowed to see the prepared cards, and found titles of fifty-five Catholic works, aside 
from twenty volumes of O. A. Brownson. There are more than this number registered, but, 
not knowing the authors and not then having time to examine them, I cannot vouch for them. 
Others still that I have drawn are not on the cards. This number does not include poetry or 
fiction (which is fairly well represented by Christian Reid, Lady Fullerton, Mary Agnes Tinck- 
er, Kathleen O'Meara, Mrs. Lillie, Mrs. Martin, Gerald Griffin, Banim, F. Marion Crawford, 
and others, besides many translations), but treats of history, biography, and doctrine. 

" The librarian promises to recommend for purchase to the board of managers any list of 
books needed by our Reading Circle. He is not a Catholic, but a liberal-minded Protestant, as 
you may infer from the following: 

" He says there are at least a dozen books he could name, strongly anti-Catholic in tone, 
which are gotten up to please the general public. These books are in constant demand. He 
asks as a favor that I name an equal number of Catholic books that will offset them to place in 
the library. He will make out the list this week; one of the books is The Dawn of Liberty in 
"The Building of a Nation" series. He also says there is a great need of a popular Catholic 
History of England. Lingard does not attract the popular taste. 



276 WITH READERS AND CORRESPONDENTS. [May, 

" I gratefully accepted the offer, feeling my own inability, but determined to do my best to 
find those capable of assuming such a responsibility. Therefore I ask your help, and that of 
such readers as will co-operate if you think best to lay the matter before the Reading Circle. 
Whether or not you invite the readers' assistance, I beg yours most earnestly. It seems to me 
an opportunity too good to be neglected. If the books are placed in the library they will be cir- 
culated, for two of the attendants are Catholics. J. O. M." 

From St. Xavier's Academy, Westmoreland County, Pa., two letters have 
been sent, conveying good wishes and words of approval for the Reading Circles. 
The letters are signed by Misses Genevieve E. Reid and Grace M. McElroy. 
The latter mentions some practical examples which came under her own ob- 
servation of the good caused by a knowledge of Catholic authors. 

A plan has been proposed at Rochester, N. Y., with a view to the speedy 
formation of a Reading Circle. For the benefit of all interested it is submitted 
with our hearty approval : 

! 

" I propose an initiation fee of fifty cents and an annual fee of one dollar. With this 
amount to select, with great discrimination, a sufficient number of books. Each will contain 
on the fly-leaf a printed list of members, arranged according to residence. To every lady will 
be sent one or two books, which may be retained two weeks, and must then be passed to the 
one whose name follows on the list. All books to be passed the ist and i5th of the month, 
and the dates when received and when passed to be noted by each member. 

"We seem, as a class, most unfamiliar with our own literature, and, therefore, \nforming 
a Book Club it is necessary to avoid too heavy reading, which would soon discourage all but 
those above the average literary taste. Many timid persons might be deterred from joining a 
club in which too much individual effort would be required, and my object being in the start to 
interest all, I consider this a cogent reason for suggesting this plan, which will give each one an 
opportunity of becoming conversant with Catholic literature without the necessity of frequent 
discussion or public reading. However, I hope from this beginning will emanate many local 
clubs for critical study and research. 

"Any one desiring to purchase a club book may signify such intention by writing her 
name therein. At the close of the year it will be sold for half the original cost. Books of 
fiction will be circulated with a more solid work. EMI LIE GAFFNEY." 


' 

Wherever it can be done, we would suggest that the books gathered by a 
Reading Circle be reserved to form the nucleus of a parish library instead of 
being sold at half-price to individual members. In places having a parish library 
already established the expense may be very much lessened. 

In the June number of THE CATHOLIC WORLD we hope to make a summary 
of the suggestions obtained from the letters received ; and also give an outline of 
the course of reading to be recommended in the first list of books, which is now 
almost ready for publication. This list will be forwarded to all who will have 

sent ten cents in postage-stamps. 

DEPARTMENT READING CIRCLES. 



1889.] NEW PUBLICATIONS. 277 




NEW PUBLICATIONS. 



DISSERTATIONES QlLEDAM PHILOSOPHIC^:. Elaboratae a P. Engelberto 
Gey, O.S.F., Ph. Prof, in Colleg. ad S. Fr. Sol., Quincyae, 111. Benzi- 
ger Fratres. 1888. 

. 

Any student of philosophy who can understand these dissertations at 
one reading deserves a gold medal ; and one who can understand them 
after any number of readings deserves a silver medal. Not that they are 
totally unintelligible, but that the author, who has undoubtedly a remark- 
able metaphysical talent, has studied condensation and brevity of expres- 
sion to such purpose, that his nutshell is a hard one to crack. His great 
master, Duns Scotus, would have smiled approvingly on a pupil who pro- 
duced a specimen of metaphysical argument in a style so like his own. 
The subject of the first dissertation is The essential composition ofwn angel. 
The subject of the second is The form of corporeity as an essential principle 
in the composition of man. The precise aim of the author is a comparison 
between the doctrine of St. Thomas and that of St. Bonaventura respecting 
the first topic, and between the doctrine of St. Thomas and that of Scotus 
concerning the second. If we understand him, he wishes to show that 
these great doctors do not contradict one another, but present different 
phases of metaphysical doctrine which can be harmonized with each other. 
To give an account of his argument in a brief critical notice is impossible, 
and to write an article on such topics would throw the readers of THE 
CATHOLIC WORLD into a panic. We refer those who are interested in the 
composition of angels and men to the pamphlet of Father Engelbert. If it 
will give consolation to him to know the opinion of the writer of this no- 
tice, we are quite ready to say that we agree with him on both points. 
Moreover, we think there is a great deal in the philosophy and theology of 
that prodigy of genius, John Duns Scotus, which can be brought out 
with great advantage, to blend with and complete the doctrine of the 

Angelic Doctor. A. F. H. 

& 

RECORDS OF THE ENGLISH CATHOLICS OF 1715. Compiled wholly from 
Original Documents. Edited by John Orlebar Payne, M.A. London: 
Burns & Gates ; New York : The Catholic Publication Society Co. 

' 
This volume adds one more to those works of research into the lives of 

their forefathers which the present generation of English Catholics is 
showing such praiseworthy zeal in publishing. It is not Mr. Payne's first 
work, he having, with the late Canon Estcourt, brought out a larger volume 
on the English Catholic Nonjurors of 1715. The first half of the present 
volume consists of an abstract of nearly four hundred wills and letters of 
administration. The main interest of this part is genealogical, and for the 
descendants of the families mentioned will undoubtedly be great. An 
admirable index will render it easy to carry out any such investigation. 
But the interest of the work will not be confined to students of genealogy. 
There are many quaint and curious bequests in these old wills, many things 



278 NEW PUBLICATIONS. [May, 

which edify and some, on the contrary, which are far from edifying. Here, 
for example, is a picture of a stanch, humble, and pious Catholic : 

"Charles Eyston, of East Hendred, . . . being by God's grace steadfast and certain in 
the integrity of that Faith which his ancestors have received and learned from the wholly [sic] 
Roman Catholic Church, the head of all churches, in which faith, and in obedience to the 
Apostolic See of Rome, he professes to have always lived and desires to dye, and that he may 
be able to accomplish this his desire by the great goodness and mercy of God through the 
merits of his Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, and may persevere to the end in the same faith 
and obedience, earnestly begs the assistance of the suffrages and prayers of the Ever Blessed 
Virgin Mary and the universal Church of Christ, triumphant and militant, with fear and trem- 
bling beholding himself and his great unworthiness, yet so far confiding in the grace and mercy 
of God as to have a firm hope and expectation of the salvation of his soul and everlasting life 
through Jesus Christ . . . names his wife, etc." 

Care of the poor and regard for faithful servants are noteworthy 
features in these wills. Anne Fitzwilliam desires to have " six poor Catho- 
lics for her bearers, to have a guinea each ; and two hundred poor people, 
each to have sixpence, each to say before taking the money, God be merciful 
to her soul." Dennis Molony wishes to have two guineas divided amongst 
the poor begging at the chapel door when the service and office for the 
dead is being said for him. There are many other interesting points to be 
found in this first part. 

The second part is devoted to the Records of the Forfeited Estates 
Convmissioners. These documents, which are now published for the first 
time, show in a clear light the risks to which the Catholics of the first half 
of the eighteenth century were exposed. The age of imprisonment and 
martyrdom was past ; the property of Catholics was now made the object 
of attack. Mr. Payne prints the letters to the commissioners of those 
who either wished themselves to take possession of this property, or to 
receive a reward for giving information. Many letters are given of the 
apostate priest Richard Hitchmough, and it is satisfactory to learn that the 
wages of his iniquity were not very great. 

The attachment of Catholics to the house of Stuart, however chival- 
rous and noble it may have been, brought upon them many temporal mis- 
fortunes and sufferings. It is interesting to learn that the conduct of the 
English Catholics in this respect did not meet with the approval of the 
Sovereign Pontiff. Mr. Payne has found in the British Museum, and pub- 
lishes in his preface, a letter in which it is stated that Mgr. Santini, nuncio 
at Brussels, " is ordered by the pope to publish that English Catholics may 
and ought to promise fidelity and entire obedience to the present govern- 
ment, but to make no mention of the pope's authority.'' It would have 
been better for the church in all ages if Catholics had had something of 
that political wisdom for which the Holy See is distinguished. 

HARPER'S EDUCATIONAL SERIES OF READERS. New York : Harper & 
Brothers. 

Harper's new readers represent the latest effort of a firm of eminent 
publishers to produce a series of perfect reading-books. 

The type, page, paper, illustrations, and binding show that they have 
expended a large sum of money in giving form to the fruits of their long 
experience in book-making. The publishers evidently believe that a clear, 
bold type is of prime importance ; that script letters should be used spar- 






1 889 ] NE w PUBLIC A TIONS. 279 

ingly ; that marked letters are intolerable, except in the reviews and voca- 
bularies; that artistic illustrations may be made a subordinate feature and 
still serve the double purpose of educating the eye and illuminating the 
text ; that the margin should be broad enough to insure a flat surface for 
the printed matter, and that the binding should be of cloth. 

In these respects this series is in strong contrast with the miserably 
small pages, cast-off cuts, inferior binding, and pasteboard coverings of 
some other readers. 

The editorial work is of a high order. The editors have cast aside the 
foreign accumulations so long vaunted as excellences in certain readers. 
They have omitted the elocutionary essays and filled the space with more 
important matter. The craze for sound-marks has been resisted, and the 
so-called definition and composition exercises eliminated. The rejection 
of diacritical marks rests upon the fact that the most complete system 
cannot cope with the anomalies of our orthography. Their use for effect 
is dishonest. 

The limit which the editors have placed upon the introduction of script 
will meet the approval of most teachers, but they are at fault in directing 
its exclusive use for blackboard exercises. The transition from Roman 
letters to script is not so marked as that from artistic pictures to the type 
representations of the same objects. But children should not be required 
to do off- hand what is more difficult than to express arithmetical processes 
in algebraic form. 

The editors make no pretension to novelty of method in teaching read- 
ing. In the First Reader may be found the leading features of several 
methods. Pictures, familiar names, frequent repetition of words and 
phrases, and the early use of the sentence are made the basis of progres- 
sive instruction. The attractiveness of the cuts and the freshness of the 
texts are depended upon to fix attention and sustain interest. The mental 
process appealed to is " the association of ideas." The analytic method of 
teaching the first steps in reading is entirely discarded, although acknowl- 
edged authorities on both sides of the Atlantic have recently declared in 
favor of a return to it. 

1 J- U iU J' 1- U J 11 

In the succeeding numbers the grading is accomplished more by the 
presentation of suitable material than by attempts at simplifying and adapt- 
ing weighty and unfamiliar selections. Acting on the principle that the 
power to think carries with it the impulse to use appropriate words, they 
have made the advanced readers a store-house of choice language. 

They have drawn largely from the literature of current periodicals, 
thereby allowing themselves to discard the well-worn stories, fables, and 
scientific writings of commonplace authors. 

After some slight revision the series will be an ideal set of readers. 

TE CRITICAL PERIOD OF AMERICAN HISTORY, 1783-1789. By John 
Fiske. Boston and New York: Houghton, MifHin & Co. 

This sketch of the political history of the United States from the end 
of the Revolutionary War to the adoption of the Federal Constitution is 
one of the most valuable, interesting, and well-written pieces of historical 
composition among recent works of the kind by American authors. It 
must take its place among the standard works of our best historians. 
That period, so justly called " critical," of which it treats, is one over 



280 NEW PUBLICATIONS. [May, 

which the minds of most Americans, even though they may be familiar 
with our preceding and subsequent history, pass with a skip. Our notion 
of it has been hazy, and we have not clearly apprehended what a dangerous 
crisis we passed through, or duly appreciated the truly wonderful nature 
of the great work which brought order out of chaos, consolidating the 
nebula of the Continental Congress into a central government which con- 
trols without absorbing the distinct States organized into a Republic by the 
Federal Constitution. The result is thus summed up in a terse and preg- 
nant sentence by Mr. Fiske : " Thus, at length, was realized the sublime con- 
ception of a nation in which every citizen lives under two complete and 
well-rounded systems of laws the state law and the federal law each with 
its legislature, its executive, and its judiciary, moving one within the other, 
noiselessly and without friction. It was one of the longest reaches of con- 
structive statesmanship ever known in the world " (p. 301). 

When we consider the different views, interests, and schemes repre- 
sented in the Federal Convention, and the resolute, even violent, opposi- 
tion to the Constitution, it is a wonder that it was ever framed, and another 
wonder that it was ever adopted. We cannot find any other sufficient 
cause of this great event than the overruling providence of the Sovereign 
Ruler of the world. The more closely we consider the great revolution 
which separated this country from England, and the great constructive 
work which organized it into a republican empire, the more plainly does it 
appear that both were accomplished by the hand of God, working through 
events beyond all human control, and through a small number of men who 
were very great in capacity and virtue, and fit to take advantage of the 
circumstances which gave them their opportunity. There was so much 
wrongheadedness, blundering, and slackness among the lesser leaders and 
a great portion of the people, during and after the war, that we are aston- 
ished at the conquest achieved by the great heroes and statesmen over the 
difficulties which beset them. The greatest and most difficult of these 
successes were achieved by Washington, Hamilton, Jay, and their col- 
leagues, after the campaigns in the field had been finished. Of all these 
momentous events Mr. Fisk x e has given a succinct but thorough narrative, 
in a charming style which fascinates while it instructs. To a certain ex- 
tent he avails himself of his opportunity to inculcate some of his political 
opinions, in regard to which different readers will make different judgments. 
Saying nothing of these, we have no hesitation in expressing our opinion, 
that as a history this is an invaluable work, which we wish might be read 
by every intelligent American. 

In conclusion, we cannot resist the temptation of quoting a humorous 
incident which is a very piquant illustration of the frequent assertion of 
Father Hecker, that the doctrine of total depravity is incompatible with 
the principles underlying our political Constitution. In the Massachusetts 
convention the Rev. Samuel West, arguing in favor of the proposed Consti- 
tution, said that the opponents seemed to take for granted that the 
federal government was going to be administered by knaves. But, said he. 
" May we not rationally suppose that the persons we shall choose to ad- 
minister the government will be, in general, good men ? ' On the other side : 
"General Thompson said he was surprised to hear such an argument from 
a clergyman, who was professionally bound to maintain that all men were 



1 889.] NE w PUBLIC A TIONS. 28 1 

totally depraved. For his part he believed they were so, and could prove 
it from the Old Testament." " I would not trust them," echoed Abraham 
White, of Bristol, " though every one of them should be a Moses" (p. 323). 

May the hopeful auguries of Mr. West be justified by the course of 
events ! 

CONTEMPLATIONS AND MEDITATIONS ON THE HIDDEN LIFE OF OUR LORD 
JESUS CHRIST, according to the method of St. Ignatius. Translated from 
the French by a Sister of Mercy. Revised by Rev. W. H. Eyre, S.J. New 
York : Catholic Publication Society Co. ; London : Burns & Gates. 

These meditations are worthy of much praise from the simplicity of their 
arrangement and the dignity of their matter. They are not, indeed, provocative 
of study ; the use of such matter does not suggest self-sermonizing. No fine- 
spun subtleties either amuse or annoy the mind, which is occupied with the direct 
statement of those elevating facts and doctrines embraced in and suggested by the 
hidden life of our Lord. The best feature these meditations have is their prac- 
tical bearing. The daily duties of life are kept before the mind according to 
each one's vocation. Their tone, too, is kindly, breathing a spirit of holy famil- 
iarity with Jesus and with his Mother, Mary, and his foster-father, Joseph. 

The author of the original French work is unknown, and will probably never 
become known, though the conjectures inserted in the preface to this translation 
may go for what they are worth, resting nearly altogether on that rather illusory 
class of testimony called "intrinsic evidence." That best form of evidence 
adducible in the case of spiritual writings repeated editions and large current 
sale bears abundant testimony to the value of this little volume as an aid to 
mental prayer. 

The publishers' work is well done. 

. 

EUCHARISTIC JEWELS. For Persons living in the World. By Percy Fitzgerald, 
A.M., F.S.A. London : Burns & Gates ; New York : Catholic Publication 

Society Co. 

1 

This beautiful little volume is worthy of its title. Down into the rich mine of 
literature touching the Blessed Eucharist patient search has been made, and 
critical taste has discovered to the reader some of its most precious jewels. It is 
rare to find a layman in these busy days using his leisure in a work of this char- 
acter; it is rarer still to find in such a one not only a keen appreciation of liter- 
ary beauty, but just as keen a perception of what will best feed the spirit of 
devotion, best quicken the pulse and warm the heart of faith. 

The book is divided into six chapters, named " The Tabernacle," " The Com- 
municant," " The Holy Eucharist a Power on Earth," " The Eucharist and the New 
Testament," "Spiritual Dryness,"and " Prayers of the Saints." It will be seen 
from this that the compiler has edification, instruction, and devotion in view. He 
gives us not a large but a very select assortment of matter for the use of the 
lovers of our Lord before the altar, in many instances unfamiliar to the general 
reader. He has presented to people in the world, to whom he specially addresses 
himself, a useful accompaniment to their devotion, as well as a gentle and reason- 
able stimulant. 

The printing and binding are very creditable to the publishers. 



AALESUND TO TETUAN: A JOURNEY. By Charles R. Corning. Boston: 
Cupples & Hurd. 

This is a breezy and rather entertaining book of travel. The author 
saw a good deal, and has no hesitation in pronouncing prompt judgment on 



282 NEW PUBLICATIONS. [May, 

all that he saw. Though his judgments are superficial, his impressions are 
vivid. 

It took him two years to cover the ground from Norway to Northern 
Africa, but he hurries his readers over the greater part of the journey as 
rapidly as if he had made the tour in two months. 

Mr. Corning does not seem to have much of an eye for natural scenery 
or capacity to describe it; his descriptions of cities and their populations 
and public monuments are, however, above the average. His opinions on 
European politics and religion are not worth the very excellent paper on 
which they are printed. 

INSTRUCTIONS AND DEVOTIONS FOR CONFIRMATION CLASSES. By Rev. 
P. J. Schmitt. New York : Joseph Schaefer. 

This excellent Manual of Confirmation, by one who is now a rector and 
was formerly a professor, will supply a need long felt by those in charge of 
children, especially the teachers of Catholic schools. Part first contains a 
very lucid and complete exposition of the doctrine ; part second gives a 
choice collection of devotional prayers to the Holy Ghost. 

Chiefly from motives of convenience, the first Communion and Confir- 
mation are often administered the same day. In our opinion this custom, 
wherever it exists, can be justified only by necessity. The fitness of things 
requires a distinct preparation for Confirmation. According to the injunc- 
tion of the Catechism of the Council of Trent the twelfth year is the proper 
period of life when children should be prepared to receive the fulness of 
the gifts of the Holy Spirit, after having been instructed and admitted to 

T-i- ,". 

First Communion. 

By practical experience the writer of this notice has found that parents 
generally are of the opinion that children need not study Christian doctrine 
after Confirmation. To convince them that this is an erroneous opinion 
i-s by no means an easy task. As a safeguard against parental negligence, 
there is good reason for insisting on a strict examination of candidates for 
Confirmation. They should be made to realize that by the reception of 
this sacrament they assume the obligations of a soldier to fight the good 
fight and be loyal to their public duties towards the church. 

THE SERMON BIBLE. Vol. I., Genesis to 2 Samuel; Vol. II., i Kings to 
Psalm Ixxvi. New York : A. C. Armstrong & Son. 

The sermons, of which the outlines are here given, are almost without 
exception Protestant, a few preached by Cardinal Newman after his con- 
version being the only Catholic sermons for which room has been found. 
Every form of Protestantism is, however, amply represented High- 
Churchmen and Ritualists by such preachers as Canon Liddon, Dr. Pusey, 
Dean Church, Canon Knox-Little ; Broad Churchmen by Dean Stanley, 
Bishop Colenso, Charles Kingsley, F. D. Maurice; Low Churchmen by 
Bishop Ryle, Canon Melville, and others. Outside of the Episcopalian fold, 
the most prominent Presbyterian, Baptist, Methodist, and Unitarian 
preachers appear in large number. 

The work follows the order of Holy Scripture. Not, of course, that 
there is a sermon for every text. For example, on the first chapter of 



. ] NE w PUD LIC A TIONS. 283 

Genesis the outlines of four sermons on the first verse are given, of one 
sermon each on the second, fifth, fourteenth, twenty-eighth, and thirty-first 
verses, with two on the twenty-seventh verse. On this chapter the ser- 
mons are more numerous than on other chapters. These outlines take up 
about a page, and references are given to works where the text is more 
fully treated. 

Outlines, of course, are dry and cannot give more than the bare thought, 
and in sermons the authors of which represent so many varieties of teach- 
ing, every kind of opinion will be found. This maybe for Catholics the 
chief utility of these volumes. They will form a convenient work of refer- 
ence in order to ascertain the opinions of the religious teachers by whom 
they are surrounded. Doubtless, 4 too, considering that many of the ser- 
mons here analyzed are written by men of great ability, these volumes will 
assist the preacher in presenting the old truth in new ways. 

THE INNER LIFE OF SYRIA. By Mrs. R. Burton. London : Kegan Paul, 
Trench & Co. (For sale by Benziger Bros., New York.) 

:<>5 

This is a new and cheaper edition of Mrs. Burton's Syrian travels 
which was published some years ago. It is a woman's book, chatty and 
cheerful, and it does really tell a good deal about the Inner Life of Syria. As 
wife of the English consul at Damascus, Mrs. Burton had exceptional oppor- 
tunities of observing the manners and customs of the picturesque peoples 
that to-day inhabit the ancient land of *the Patriarchs, and she seems to have 
taken every advantage of her opportunities. She takes her readers into 
her confidence at once, and points out everything to them from her stand- 
point, and she expects them to enter into her views. There is, perhaps, 
too much that is purely personal introduced in the book, but it is all the 

more real on that account. 

bUrf:>^f,d'rn6imqo 

THE LIFE OF ST. IGNATIUS OF LOYOLA. By Father Genelli, SJ. Translat- 
ed from the German by M. Charles Sainte-Foi, and from the French 
by Father Meyrick, S.J. New York, Cincinnati, and Chicago : Benziger 
Bros.- 



The French translator of this admirable life says in his preface that the 
secret of St. Ignatius' greatness lay in his power to discern the wants of 
his age. Nothing could be truer. He became the providential leader of 
his time. If we could see and understand the operation of the Divine 
Spirit in all ages, we should comprehend how in the face of all difficulties 
and dangers which have threatened the church in the past there has 
always been a way out of them, and faith assures us that there always will 
be one. 

In the study of the life of the saintly founder of the Society of Jesus 
one realizes in a special manner the work of the Holy Spirit in the church. 
Within the church and through the church men become affiliated to God. 
How can the church accomplish her mission among men to-day? We 
know that it will be by men of sanctified intelligence like St. Ignatius. 
We need men with eyes to discern the special workings of the Divine 
Spirit in the church to-day as he did in his day. St. Ignatius is a model 
for one who would learn adaptability to the providence of God. 

We desire especially to recommend Father Genelli's life as one which. 
brings out prominently the interior life and motives of this great saint. 



284 NEW PUBLICATIONS. [May, 1889. 

BOOKS RECEIVED. 
Mention of books in this place does not preclude extended notice in subsequent numbers. 

THE LIFE OF ST. FRANCIS XAVIER, Apostle of the Indies and Japan. From the Italian of 
D. Bartoli and J. P. Maffei. With a preface by the Very Rev. Dr. Faber. Tenth Ameri- 
can from the last London edition. New York : P. O'Shea, Agent. 

WHAT is RENT ? How Should the Irish Land Question be Settled ? By J. O. Dublin : 
M. H. Gill & Son. 

ELEMENTARY CHEMICAL TECHNICS. A hand-book of manipulation and experimentation for 
teachers of limited experience, and in schools where chemistry must be taught with limited 
appliances. By George N. Cross, A.M., Principal of the Robinson Female Seminary. 
Boston : Eastern Educational Bureau, Silver, Rogers & Co. 

HENRY VIII. AND THE ENGLISH MONASTERIES. An attempt to illustrate the history of their 
suppression. By Francis Aidan Gasquet, Monk of the Order of St. Benedict, some time 
Prior of St. Gregory's Monastery, Downside, Bath. Vol. II. London : John Hodges. 
(For sale by Benziger Bros., New York.) 

THE BOOK OF ISAIAH. By the Rev. George Adam Smith, M.A. In two vols. Vol. I., 
Isaiah i.-xxxix. New York : A. C. Armstrong & Son. 

THE LITTLE BOOK OF SUPERIORS. By the Author of Golden Sands. Translated from the 
ninth French edition by Miss Ella McMahon. New York, Cincinnati, and Chicago : 
Benziger Bros. 

;THE SECRET OF MARY UNVEILED TO THE DEVOUT SOUL. By the Blessed Louis-Marie 
Grignon de Montfort. First American Edition. New York : The Catholic Publication 
Society Co. ; London : Burns & Gates. 

THE HISTORY OF CONFESSION ; or, The Dogma of Confession Vindicated from the Attacks of 
Heretics and Infidels. Translated from the French of Rev. Ambroise Guillois by Louis De 
Goes-briand, D.D., Bishop of Burlington, Vt. New York, Cincinnati, and Chicago: 
Benziger Bros. 

LIVES OF THE FATHERS. Sketches of Church History in Biography. By Frederick W. Farrar, 
D.D., F.R.S., etc. In two volumes. New York : MacMillan & Co. 

MEMOIR OF THE LIFE OF THE REV. FRANCIS A. BAKER, Priest of the Congregation of St. 
Paul. By Rev, A. F. Hewit. Seventh Edition. New York : The Catholic Publication 
Society CQ. 

AN EXPOSITION OF THE PSALM, MISERERE MEI DEUS. By Fra Girolamo Savonarola. Trans- 
lated from -the Latin by the Rev. F. C. Cowper, B. D. Milwaukee : The Young Church- 
man Co. 

THE EPISTLE TO THE GALATIANS. By the Rev. Prof. G. C. Findlay, B.A., Headingley Col- 
lege, Leeds. 'New York : A. C. Armstrong & Son. 

FIVE HUNDRED CHOICE SELECTIONS FROM PROSE AND POETRY. For Grammatical Exer- 
cises and Memorizing j with a Drill Book for review in English Grammar and Analysis. 
By Frances W. Lewis, A.B.,.of the Rhode Island Normal School. Boston : The Eastern 
Educational Bureau. 

MANUAL AND OTHER APPROVED PRAYERS OF THE ARCH-CONFRATERNITY OF THE GUARD 
OF HONOR OF THE SACRED HEART OF JESUS. Translated from the French. Second 
edition, revised. Approved by the Rt. Rev. Bishop of Brooklyn. Brooklyn, N. Y. : 
Monastery of the Visitation. 

INTEMPERANCE AND LAW. A Lecture by the Most Rev. John Ireland, D.D. New edition. 
Published by St. Paul's Guild, Fifty-ninth Street and Ninth Avenue, New York. 



THE 



CATHOLIC WORLD 



VOL. XLIX. JUNE, 1889. No. 291. 

A DIALOGUE ON THE SALOON. 

"A quiet evening's talk with an intelligent friend or two often does 
more towards clearing up a doubtful question than hours spent at books.'' 

NEXT to taking part in such a chat is the being privileged 
to sit by and enjoy it. This was the writer's good fortune not 
long since. After tea one evening he had dropped in to see a 
respected friend, whom he found seated with an old acquaintance 
at the fireside, engaged in earnest conversation and the very com- 
forting pastime of toasting toes the evening was a misty, freez- 
ing one, that promised slippery walking and gray-frosted trees 
for the morrow. The conversation, disturbed for a moment by 
his entrance, was immediately resumed. That it may be easily 
followed, and without complications of " said he," and " contin- 
ued the other," etc., the writer designates his venerable friend 
by the letter H and the other speaker by the letter R, setting 
down the talk in dialogistic form. 

H. There is a rather queer comment here [looking up from 
a blue-covered magazine in his hand] on Total Abstinence, oc- 
casioned by a letter of our Holy Father approving that move- 
ment. Here is the way it runs: " Drunkenness is a sin, but tee- 
totalism is not a virtue. In se it is no more meritorious than 
it would be to confine one's self to mutton all the year round to 
the exclusion of beef, or to white bread to the exclusion of 
brown. This is Catholic doctrine." What do you say to this? 

R. The proposition calls for some " distinguishing " ; it would 
not be a bad example for practice in the class-room for the Falla- 
cia a dicta simpliciter ad dictum secundum quid, et vice versa. 

H. It is, indeed, the veriest sophism. One might as well say : 
" Gluttony is a sin, but abstinence is not a virtue. In se it is no 

Copyright. RBV. A. F. HEWIT. 1889. 



286 A DIALOGUE ON THE SALOON. [J une 

more meritorious than it would be to confine one's self to water all 
the year round to the exclusion of tea, or to codfish to the ex- 
clusion of haddock. This is Catholic doctrine." One proposi- 
tion is as correct as the other; and from the latter one might as 
well conclude that abstinence is not a virtue. 

R. Which inference is to be admitted, is it not ? 

H. A word in explanation : If by virtue is meant something 
that of its very nature, independent of motive in the subject, is 
positively good, certainly neither abstinence nor teetotalism, no, 
nor poverty, nor almsgiving, are virtues. If, on the contrary,- 
these actions are virtues which, though of themselves neither 
good nor bad, yet on account of the motive behind them take on 
positive goodness, then surely teetotalism, as well as abstinence 
and the rest, is a virtue. And actions indifferent in se, when 
prompted by good motives, do become good actions, approved 
of by right reason ; and good actions that have become of habit 
are, though not in the strictest sense, withal virtues. You may 
not belittle mortification and fasting because in se they are not 
virtues. In the present instance, moreover, the pope speaks of 
total abstinence societies as an " opportunum planeque efficax re- 
medium* '"a timely and very effectual cure for the sin of in- 
ebriety." What cures a sin is near enough to being a virtue. It 
is to be wondered at (the remark may be facetious) that a theolo- 
gian of the day does not rise to remark how Cardinal Lavigerie, 
in his earnest efforts to tear up slavery root and branch, should be 
careful lest he go a little toa far, since slavery is not in se sinful. 
However, I do not mean to assert that in total abstinence lies 
the only cure for the abuse of liquors. Indeed, the various solu- 
tions of this difficult problem which up to this I have run across 
do not satisfy me. In my own way of looking at the question \ 
see a clear path to a certain point, and arrived there, I am at 
the sea-shore, with no safe boat at hand in which to venture out 
on the waters. 

R. 'Well, let us have a resume of your views. For myself I 
acknowledge the subject to be a tiresomely tangled one. One 
day, after reading The Tongue, I am a Prohibitionist out and out ; 
the next, a speech in favor of high license by an eminent advo- 
cate is heard, and I am voting " yes " in its favor ; a third day, a 
magazine article convinces me that the road out of the labyrinth 
is to give low license for beer-selling and boycott distilled 
drinks. My own light-headedness, no doubt, is a chief reason 
why every wind moves me ; still, there is another influence at 
work in causing this weather-cock changing of base ; namely, that 



1889.] A DIALOGUE ON THE SALOON. 287 

solid reasons can be urged on every side of the question. I 
think that in forming your opinions you will have given each 
side of the question its due. I have that much confidence in you. 
Besides, it will be a treat to hear another than a crank discuss the 
matter, for I am tired of their philippics and oh ! call it dithy- 
rambic nonsense. 

H. You speak with feeling on the subject. Has some crank 
been stepping on your toes ? And what assurance have you that 
in my own way I am not a crank? Do you not know the inesti- 
mable good cranks have done to the world ? 

R. I do indeed know it ; you must needs be deaf in these 
times not to know it. However, an " intimus sensus" makes me 
feel, and common sense puts its imprimatur on the feeling, that 
the present-day axiom, " Every earnest man with an idea to push 
is necessarily a crank to the rest of us," will not hold water. A 
crank will do any good cause harm ; and, therefore, when a cause 
is directed by one, or many, of this class it cannot but suffer in 
the estimation of sensible men. In a well-balanced mind " moral 
force corresponds with an equal degree of intellectual force ; and 
in such correspondence is the completeness of power." A lec- 
turer of twenty years ago is to the point : " There are men whose 
conscience is beyond suspicion, one might almost say beyond 
temptation, who yet, from want of mental ballast, fail in moral 
wisdom and do not rise to the higher order of virtues. The 
very source of their excellence is also in a certain sense the 
source of their weakness ; so they become obstinate, or bigoted, 
or intolerant, or fanatical, or contentious, or meddlesome, or vi- 
sionary. Prostrated under a mistaken sense of obligation or puff- 
ed up with an overbearing zeal, they often only irritate when 
they mean to improve, and with the best intentions are most mis- 
chievous in their actions. A man of weak understanding may be 
a good man ; but his goodness should be active humbly within 
the sphere of his capacity in mind as in means. To be a great 
man as well as a good man there must be a strong understand- 
ing." This I consider the orthodox idea of a crank. Do I, then, 
go too far in declaring that it is a bad thing for a cause when 
such an one has a guiding hand in its management, or that an 
earnest man pushing enthusiastically an idea loses nothing by 
having brains enough to keep his moral forces within wise 
bounds ? 

H. You have put the matter in a shape I, and no doubt others, 
have not been wont to consider it. Maybe I'll overthrow your 
judgment, however, that I am not of the crank class by my first 
VOL. XLIX. 19 



288 A DIALOGUE ON THE SALOON. [June, 

assertion on the temperance question. What do you think of 
this? The damnable saloon system must go ! 

R. God bless us ! When you make such an assertion as that 
you need logic in plenty to prove that your moral force has not 
run away with your wits ; if it is not, indeed, a contradiction in 
terms to suppose that logic, plenty or scarce, could live whence 
issues such an alarming dictum ! 

H. Just listen. My indictment of the present saloon system 
as damnable includes three counts- 

First count : The saloon as run in the United States is a 
proximate occasion of sin to the saloon-keeper himself. That I may 
not define to favor my own position, tell me what is a proximate 
occasion of sin ? 

R. An occasion, if I remember rightly, in which the common 
run of men when so placed for the most part fall into sin. 

H. And is it lawful to place one's self in such occasion ? 

R. Not only is it not lawful, but it must be shunned at all 
hazards. Moreover, should there be an absolute necessity of 
placing one's self in such occasion, extraordinary means must be 
used to prevent sin in order that the proximate may practically 
become a remote occasion. 

H. And if such means become inefficacious, at whatever 
cost or inconvenience the occasion must be shunned ? 

R. I grant you the authorities, with St. Liguori, if I mistake 
not, at their head, so teach. 

H. Very good. Now, if I understand matters aright, the 
moral law requires a saloon-keeper to observe the following rules 
under pain of grievous sin (and the ecclesiastical law emphasizes 
these requirements, as you may see by the acts and decrees of 
the last Council of Baltimore) : ist, He must not keep open 
house on Sunday ; 2dly, He must not permit his saloon to be a 
place for obscene talking, singing, reading ; for cursing, blas- 
phemy ; for disseminating infidelistic, communistic views ; 3dly, 
He must not sell to drunken men, nor those who are about to be- 
come drunk, nor to those whom he knows to be spending at his bar 
the means necessary for the support of their families ; 4thly, He 
must not sell to minors, at least to those who are not sui juris. 

R. But these regulations are by no means absolute. For in- 
stance, by not selling to a man whom you foresee to be about to 
drink to excess you will injure your custom, or he will raise a 
row if you persist in refusing. Presto! charity does not bind 
under such grave inconvenience ; what, then, becomes of your 
third regulation? 



1889.] A DIALOGUE ON THE SALOON. 289 

f 

H. I have simply laid down the general rules ; under special 
circumstances, as in nearly every case of co-operation, exceptions 
can arise. And suppose that you do injure your custom ; is it 
not already illegitimate from the fact that to support yourself 
you have to constantly countenance selling to common drunk- 
ards ? As to selling to avoid the row, the fact is it commonly 
happens that too much selling is the cause of the row. However, 
I repeat, unless in exceptional cases, the rules laid down hold 
good. So much for theory. Experience, moreover, emphasizes 
(as just hinted at) this fact: in not more than one saloon out of 
fifteen nay, twenty-five is any regard had for the right or wrong 
way of running the business. The problem for the saloon- 
keeper to solve is to make his business pay. And to do this, as 
things now go, he must override the moral restrictions. There- 
fore is saloon-keeping for the common run of men a proximate 
occasion of breaking the moral (as well as the civil) law ; hence a 
proximate occasion of grievous sin ; consequently is the system 
a damnable one, since it is an occasion of damnation eh ? 

R. I was simply about to remark that what is the occasion of 
sin is not in itself necessarily damnable. 

H. The in se malum is well enough theoretically ; but do you 
not think that whatever is for weak human nature a constant, un- 
failing occasion of evil comes near enough to being an accom- 
plice in the sin, an auxiliary cause ? 

Anyway, the proximate occasion is to be shunned, and saloon- 
keeping as at present conducted is for the men that keep saloons 
such an occasion. However, this is but one count in the indict- 
ment ; here is the second : 

The saloon as now run is an organized temptation. 

There are free and salty lunches, billiards, pool, dice-shaking 
which holds out the chance of a drink without having to pay for 
it, fiddling everything is there that can induce the strong to be- 
come weak or the weak weaker. The object of all this is not to 
supply legitimate recreation to overworked men. The amuse- 
ment the saloon affords is that best calculated to unfit men for 
out-door, health-giving exercises, or for the gentler pleasures of 
home ; your saloon habitut can never enjoy an ordinary evening 
with his family ; their company is too insipid to satisfy his ac- 
quired tastes; his house is but a stopping-over place. And it is 
when men should be with their families, or their families with 
them, or when they should be asleep, that the saloon doubly 
exerts itself to draw them into its snug corners. Beg your par- 
don, let me anticipate your objection : It is not the legitimate 



290 A DIALOGUE ON THE SALOON. [June y 

sale of a necessary commodity that is aimed at by these extraor- 
dinary means, but the forcing the sale of stimulants in such 
quantities as will enable the too many sellers to glean their ex- 
ceedingly great harvest. To such an extent is the business 
pushed that in our large cities your prosperous, enterprising 
liquor-dealer has a dozen or more impecunious wretches in as 
many little shops, set up with a few gallons of his whiskey and a 
keg of his beer, it being understood that when they make enough 
to start themselves their primal benefactor gets their trade. 
All this is very likely on the plan that we cannot have too much 
of a good thing ! 

R. Yet I do not clearly see how this justifies the use of the 
adjective damnable. 

H. Be finical, and it may be (may be, mind you) that it is too 
strong ; be fair, and I do not think you will find it so. My point 
is : The object of the saloon of to-day is to tempt men to drink ; 
and tempting is a damnable business. 

The first count in the indictment, you notice, had to do with 
the saloon-keeper himself ; the second with those he strives to 
make customers of, and, unfortunately, with their families ; the 
third count has a still wider scope. It is : 

The saloon of to-day is inimical to the public weal. 

The system is the right hand of " bossism " ; " bossism " and 
" boodle " are so intimately connected that for better or worse, 
richer or poorer (chiefly richer), they are joined together. The 
demoralizing effect on our elections (materialized in " caucus 
fixing," etc.) and on our legislatures is every year evidenced. 
That the effect is national, a glance at the St. Louis and Chicago 
conventions of last spring amply testifies. The leading politi- 
cians of the country, both Republican and Democratic, while 
soothing their consciences and pulling the wool over the eyes of 
their temperance-favoring constituents with " glittering gener- 
alities," were on pins and needles until the temperance planks 
were so carefully shaved that a brewer, a distiller, or saloon- 
keeper could slide from one to the other end of them without a 
discommoding sliver to disturb his smooth going. The liquor- 
dealing element, from the force of circumstances, uses this im- 
mense influence, whether boards of aldermen, legislatures, or 
Congress be their instruments, to protect and foster the produc- 
tion and sale of intoxicating drinks ; " self-preservation," which 
includes propagation, " is the first law of nature." In a word, the 
work of this tremendous (im-) moral force is to create the de- 
mand and increase the supply of alcoholic drinks. What does 



A DIALOGUE ON THE SALOON. 



291 



experience tell us that this means ? More crime, more poverty, 
more insanity, more suicides, more divorces, more misery of 
every species, the sum of the increase in these dire consequences 
to be in proportion to the sum of the greater liquor sales. A 
telling- extract from a paragraph going the rounds of the press is 
not out of place. 

The national drink-bill is enormous, and, per capita, far ex- 
ceeds that of any people on earth. Take this one fact alone as 
startling evidence: in 1887 the average consumption for every 
man over twenty-one years of age amounted in round numbers 
to sixty gallons of beer and six gallons of whiskey, which cost to 
the consumer at retail eighty-four dollars, or a grand total paid 
by the manhood of the nation of one thousand million dollars 
($1,000,000,000) for whiskey and beer. Fancy it, we are paying 
enough for these two drinks to create one thousand millionaires 
every year. This account does not include wine, brandy, rum, 
gin, bitters, etc. As a people we put into our mouths drinks 
that largely steal our brains away, which cost us $3,000,000 dur- 
ing every twenty-four hours, Sunday and week-day, or three 
times the entire revenue (obnoxious surplus and all) collected by 
the United States government. If the item is true, it is a start- 
ling bit of evidence, is it not? Now, do you not think the effect 
of the liquor-power's influence is inimical to the public weal, that 
it is a damnable influence ? 

R. It strikes me you use the word in a somewhat different 
meaning from that in which you used it previously. Notwith- 
standing, I admit the strength of your plea ; though I do not as 
yet clearly see my way into the Prohibition camp. 

H. Why, who asked you to see your way thither ? Not I. 
Does Prohibition mean liquors must not be sold? Then my 
plea is not in its favor. My position is simply this : the present 
nefarious traffic, the damnable way of doing it, must go by the 
board. Liquors must be sold, should be, always will be. 
How ? Remember, at the start I said that after getting to a cer- 
tain point I found myself at the sea-shore, with no safe boat at 
hand to venture out on the waters. In a word, here is the real 
difficulty. Discussion and investigation maybe trial and re- 
peated failure will settle "the how of it." It is even possible 
that our present system, bad as it is, could be completely made 
over (with the damnable part left out) into a somewhat satisfac- 
tory article. This would not necessarily include high license ; 
but it would suppose limiting the number of saloons in propor- 
tion to the population; placing the choice of their keepers and 



292 ADSUM. [June, 

the saloon police in the hands of the judiciary, in order that 
their selection would be safe from political tampering ; and 
enacting strict regulations to bind liquor-dealers and saloon- 
keepers in their transactions. Or the old system might be en- 
tirely done away with and a new introduced ; for example, 
places for selling liquors over the bar could be prohibited, and 
its delivery by teams, etc., at houses direct from breweries or 
depots insisted on. Anyway, I see no reason why the century 
that has settled so many difficult problems should prove incapa- 
ble of solving this. I think we have had enough of the subject 
for one evening. 

Did I go very far beyond the reasonable when I said that the 
present saloon system was damnable and must go? 

,R. Well, in fairness I must hold my judgment in reserve. 
Your novel way of stating the case makes one wish to weigh 
well the matter before rendering a decision. In a day or two 
'I'll call in again ; meanwhile I will not be idle. Good-night. 

JOSEPH V. TRACY. 



ADSUM. 

AGAIN and again the warning is made, 

The duties, the dangers are told. 
To wrest from the wolves the lambs that have strayed. 

To guard, feed, and govern Christ's fold. 
A moment he pauses " Accede" is heard 

"All for Thee, I'm ready, I come ; 
My soul is obedient, Lord, to Thy word. 
For, failing to hear Thee, how many have erred ! ' 

One step, and he answers, " Adsitm ! ' 

T. E. Cox. 

Niagara University, N. Y. 



1889-] A BLESSED DAUGHTER OF THE PEOPLE. 293 



A BLESSED DAUGHTER OF THE PEOPLE. 

IT is difficult to bring eyes of the nineteenth century to bear 
upon personages and events of the fourteenth without making 
many mistakes in what might be called the focus of observation. 
The customs of a time so far removed from our own ; the man- 
ners of a people so distinct in most of the manifestations of intel- 
lectual, moral, and physical life ; the scarcity of authentic record, 
and the vagueness of tradition, help to interpose clouds of mis- 
apprehension and to add uncertainty of sight to uncertainty of 
judgment. More than aught else, the overwhelming change in 
habits of thought has led us away from the sympathetic point of 
view from which alone motive and action should be judged ; and 
the tendency of the age to submit every form of phenomenon 
and causation to the single test of material philosophy, and to 
summon all results before the bar of what we are pleased to term 
common sense, so impairs both perception and fairness that our 
reflections become wofully distorted from the true outline of 
events which evolved them. And although as a rule the modern 
methods of analysis are much safer guides in the classification of 
facts and the estimate of historic values than the credulous dis- 
positions of earlier generations, we are not yet wholly free from 
danger of mistake. 

An age which has seen such transcendent discoveries in 
the realms of science, and which is groping so eagerly upon 
the threshold of unexplained mysteries, should be reticent of 
placing itself on record as opposing the possibility of what it 
does not fully comprehend, or declaring without reserve that 
such or such manifestations must in the nature of things be 
the result of fraud or superstition, however strong the evidence 
of good faith on the part of subject or observer. In the moral 
as well as the physical order there is still a wide gap between 
nature and the supernatural, which the boldest investigator can 
only clear by an hypothesis, and which may, when discovered, 
prove point of departure rather than of contact to the theory we 
have so nearly proven. A hundred years ago the wildest imagi- 
nation, revelling in the anticipation of a future Utopia, could 
scarce have foreseen the developments which the inventive 
genius of man has since produced in the natural world. A hun- 
dred years hence there is no reason why more persistent psy- 
chological research may not have achieved similarly great and 



294 A BLESSED DAUGHTER OF .THE PEOPLE. [June, 

unlooked-for results in its higher because more complex do- 
main. At present, where we cannot discern logical cause, the 
tendency is to impute malice or ignorance. Extraordinary 
events must be brought within the established workings of 
natural law ; the rationale of certain characters, which seem to 
have been moved by principles wholly out of accord with the 
usual lines of human life and conduct, must be dragged into 
harmony, or we deny the existence of both. 

Viewed thus through the inverted telescope of time, how far 
astray misconception may lead us from the motives and signifi- 
cance of certain events ! With what blurred vision we gaze 
backward upon that shore whereon waves of doubt sweep across 
the sands of credulity, and the dogmatism of reason leads to 
suggestions of ignorance or prejudice at each new revelation. 
For though we are not only willing but eager to take the merest 
hypothesis of science, the vaguest groping of philosophy, as basis 
for belief and mile-stones upon the high-road of progress, we 
refuse to accept jot or tittle on the evidence of the past even 
where it is accentuated by testimony and strengthened by last- 
ing marvel of result. We bridge over with eager enthusiasm 
the " missing link " of Darwin ; we accept the ' Great Unknow- 
able " of Spencer ; we break with willing hands our cherished 
beliefs at the instigation of less sincere and more destructive re- 
formers ; but we demand the last atom of proof before yielding 
credence to the wonders in the life of Christ and the works of 
his disciples. Centuries of popular acceptance, the overwhelm- 
ing evidence of a world won from the enervating luxury of in- 
dulgent paganism to the stern restraint of self-denying Chris- 
tianity, we pass by as matters of no weight in determining belief; 
and the credence which is denied the burning testimony of Paul 
or of John is yielded at once to the plausible sophistry of a 
Renan. 

With the followers of Christ it has been the same. The won- 
derful legacies of faith, the treasures of devotion, the examples 
of self-restraint, the inspiration of heroism, which mark their 
passage through the world have been dropped from the memo- 
ries which retain repugnance for their soiled robes of sackcloth ; 
and the palms of the martyrs lose their triumphant significance 
because of our disdain for the grimed hands which bear them. 
Their power, their graciousness, and their beauty have been left 
to fade in hearts which have become the disciples or the dupes of 
ignoble leaders; and even among the faithful few, still generous 
enough to be loyal to their obligations, it is more as an act of 



.] A BLESSED DAUGHTER OF THE PEOPLE. 295 

duty than an offering of love. The hamperings of civilization 
have gone on side by side with its enlightenment, and acted 
with even greater force upon a large portion of mankind. 

It is with the remembrance of this tendency of the age in 
view, so that rational interest may make the effort to free itself 
from unconscious scepticism, that it would be well to approach 
such a subject as the life of St. Catherine of Siena. For in her 
have been wonderfully blended dual existences of the natural and 
the supernatural order. About her are gathered such strangely 
contrasted experiences as those which cluster about simple 
human life actively engaged in the ordinary duties demanded by 
the family and friendship, with a state of spiritual exaltation 
which lifted her for the time being wholly outside the limits of 
earthly comprehension. From the first to the last moment of 
her stay upon earth she preserved the sweet kindliness of interest 
which might move any gentle, loving woman to sympathy and 
helpfulness, at the same time that her public efforts were chang- 
ing the face of political affairs in the most powerful nations of 
Europe and her supernatural life was marking an epoch in the 
annals of the religious world. The tenderness with which she 
kept in mind the lowly needs of those about her, the angelic 
patience with which she conquered envy and malice ; the exqui- 
site, bright cheerfulness which radiated from her and made her 
serenely happy face "like a sunshine in a shady place," were 
enough to make her remarkable without any other claim for re- 
cognition. Yet this was in one sense but the filling up of the 
background of existence for her. Before it was raised the beau- 
tiful elevation of that temple of devotion, upon the altar of which 
her soul burned itself away in a rapture of heavenly zeal. Such 
beauty of proportion in the divine and the human attributes, 
such a recognition of the small and daily needs of the heart at 
the same time with the fullest conception of the loneliness and 
sublimity of spiritual communion, as in her case has never been 
excelled, if indeed it has been equalled, in the annals of the 
blessed. 

It can scarce be necessary to repeat here the historical record 
of St. Catherine's career, but its brief recapitulation may bring 
us more closely into contact with her surroundings. Born in 
1347, her life may be divided into four periods : that of infancy, 
when a bright and cheerful nature already turned toward acts of 
childish devotion; the years from six to seventeen, during which 
religious feeling increased in fervor while the young girl was still 
occupied with household duties and family cares; the more 



296 A BLESSED DAUGHTER OF THE PEOPLE. (June, 

advanced and hidden spiritual life from the time of associating- 
herself with her chosen religious community ; and her public ser- 
vices from 1375 to her death in 1380. She came in the midst of 
troubled days. Already, for fifty years, since the triumph oi 
Philip le Bel over Boniface VIII., Rome had been the sport of 
contending factions ; the year of her birth witnessed the tribune- 
ship and overthrow of Rienzi ; the whole of Italy was weakened 
by repeated revolution. The earlier times of comparative inde- 
pendence, which had been the result in large measure of the 
protection afforded by the popes, had disappeared, and only a few 
of the Guelph cities retained republicanism of government. 
Even this had become so prostituted to political ends, through 
the jealousy of those aspiring to be rulers, that in many of the 
Tuscan republics the higher offices were allowed to be held for 
only two months at a time. Hatred of authority increased until 
the consuls and podestas chosen from the people were as cor- 
dially detested as the nobles they supplanted ; and while the 
safety belonging to the old days of chivalry and feudal power 
was destroyed, no other conditions of civil or religious security 
had taken its place. 

The scenes of changeful violence amid which her lot was 
cast were in strange contrast with the tranquillity which 
marked her beautiful life. Her family belonged to the honora- 
ble middle class, which at that time, represented by a body of 
twelve, elected by popular voice, ruled the fortunes of her native 
city. Her father, Giacomo Benincasa, a dyer by occupation, 
was at one period chosen among these chief magistrates, and 
appears to have been possessed of some traits of character 
unusual among his countrymen. He was remarkable for modesty 
of speech, moderation of judgment, and a forgiving disposition. 
In the humble but comfortable home of this good man temper- 
ance and order, both of word and action, seem to have been the 
rule, and Catherine, the youngest of twenty-five children, had a 
fair example in his reticence and charity, as well as in that of her 
elder brothers and sisters, of whom many admirable things are 
mentioned in early chronicles. This was the more consoling, since 
the mother, Lapa, was one of those bustling, industrious, virtuous, 
narrow-minded women, who are as apt to be aggravating in the 
spiritual order as they are useful in the temporal. The child 
grew up with a sweet joyousness of temper which made her 
remarkable. "She began," says Caxton in his quaint English, 
" to be soo aceptable and soo byloued unto all that sawe her, 
and soo wonderful wordes she spoke that . . . eche man 



.] A BLESSED DAUGHTER OF THE PEOPLE. 297 

aboute of her neybours and of her kynrede had her home wyth 
theym that they myght haue felawshipe of the gladnesse of that 
yonge mayde ; soo that of a maner of a passyng solace they 
called her not by her ryght name Katheryn, but Eufrosyna, 
which in Greek signifieth Joy." Father Raimund and each con- 
temporary chronicler mentions the same fact as characteristic of 
her through life. ' Her face," he says, " was always gay and 
smiling." " Her words were so sweet that like thieves they 
snatched souls from sin," says another. 

This unanimous testimony throws some discredit on Mr. 
Trollope's declaration that " at an early age she was observed 
to be taciturn and solitary in her habits." Even when, from 
the hour of her first vision of our Lord smiling upon her gra- 
ciously and lovingly above the tower of the church of the Friar 
Preachers, she strove to withdraw herself for prayer and con- 
templation from the eyes of observers, she still continued to per- 
form her share of duties in the large and busy household with 
the same cheerful alacrity. Obstacles placed in the way of her 
religious vocation by her parents, then as now so singularly 
averse to seeing a child withdraw from the trials of the world, 
were overcome by the bright courage with which she persevered 
in her intention. From this time until that of her reception at 
seventeen into the Third Order of St. Dominic, her spiritual life 
was so well hidden that few outside her own household were 
aware of the rigor of her self-denials or the state of submission 
to which she had reduced the dominance of human needs and 
passions. Simple food, coarse clothing, scanty sleep were again 
and again lessened, until nature was reduced to the mere rem- 
nants necessary to hold soul and body together. That she might 
indulge more freely in the luxury of charity, or isolate herself 
more securely in the rapturous communion which drew her so 
strongly heavenward, all lesser comforts and delights were trod- 
den under foot with an enthusiasm of contempt which resembled 
annihilation. If the judgment of our colder age is inclined to 
cavil at the excessive austerities with which she visited her frail 
frame, it must be remembered that in those days the spirits of dis- 
cipline and suffering were more, perhaps, than in these the keys 
to open the outer gates of the kingdom of heaven. An heroic 
self-abasement was the first step in that Way of the Cross which 
was to lead through Calvary to victory. Whatever its disadvan- 
tages in the eyes that would fain claim greater reverence for that 
tabernacle which has been framed as the receptacle of His 
image and likeness, this sublime disdain of claims of the body 



298 A BLESSED DAUGHTER OF THE PEOPLE. [June, 

certainly induced a virile fibre of daring and endurance which 
overcame every trial that nature could interpose. 

After her association with the Third Order life became more 
and more spiritualized. According to the regulations of the 
order, which was composed almost entirely of holy widows and 
elderly single women, the members remained in their own 
houses instead of joining in the seclusion of community life. 
The bell which hung in the beautiful Torre del Mangia, which 
each morning called the citizens of Siena to their daily avoca- 
tions, roused also these devout companions to their round of 
pious practices, in which the good works of charity and helpful- 
ness seemed to play even a larger part than the abstract spiritual 
discipline of prayer and meditation. We do not need to be 
assured that Catherine exceeded her sisters as greatly in these 
services to suffering humanity as in the zeal of her devotions. 
She had already so subdued the wants of the body for rest and 
refreshment that a mouthful or two of bread and half an hour's 
sleep satisfied her. Long before the tardy Matins called the rest 
of the town's-people from slumber she left her little brick cell to 
care for some especial wretchedness of soul or body, some duty 
so repulsive that others shrank from its performance. Always 
she carried with her that bright serenity of look, that gentleness 
of sympathy, and the tenderness for suffering which are her 
characteristics. The early Mass and the short ecstasy of fervor 
which followed her Communion were the only support which her 
soul demanded to withstand the strain of the day's work in and 
Out among the people, each moment bearing for her its own 
especial flower of sanctity to bloom before the face of God- 
With the prisoner in his cell, beside the criminal on his way to 
execution, comforting the bereaved mother, bathing the sores 
of the leper, wrestling with some tempted spirit, or feeding her 
poor with the crumbs she had begged from the rich man's table, 
4t la beata popolana" " the blessed daughter of the people ' as 
they were beginning to call her, was being made known to them. 
It did not occur with her, as with many souls called to such close 
communion with higher things, that she was ever withdrawn 
from the companionship of humanity. Among the people was 
her mission accomplished. And so near did she come to their 
hearts that in the darkest days of fury which came so often to 
stain the streets of Siena with blood, when every man's hand 
was lifted against his fellow and each one looked with suspi- 
cion on his neighbor, the most ferocious gave place to that gen- 
tly smiling face, that loving and patient presence which they 



1889.] A BLESSED DAUGHTER OF THE PEOPLE. 299 

-had so often met already by the bed-side of their suffering kin- 
dred. 

It was only when these pressing duties ceased that she be- 
came absorbed in that trance of supernatural contemplation 
which removed her from the usual happenings of earth almost 
as entirely as if she were already translated into the com- 
munion of saints. Even then, any crisis affecting the eternal 
interests of men moved her to instant action. Even the vision 
of our Lord which she enjoyed in these supernatural moments 
was not strong enough to hold her when the consciousness 
of some silent struggle of conscience or active danger of sin 
forced itself upon her repose. It was little wonder that such 
alert sympathy no force of evil could long resist. Tenderness, 
perseverance, and an enormous strength of compassion so 
worked upon souls that she moulded even the stoniest to her 
will. No depth of lowliness or degradation, no height of 
worldly circumstance or position moderated the fire of her en- 
deavor. The authentic annals of these years overflow with 
examples of the tremendous ardor with which she met these calls 
upon Christian sympathy. She went to the care of the leper or 
the conversion of the sinner joyfully " as one who is bidden to 
a feast," writes one of her biographers ; she entered the courts 
of kings and raised her voice against the vice and the weakness 
concealed under the royal robes of religion and the state with 
the same glad fearlessness of holy simplicity. Many who had 
begun by reviling, and continued by ignoring, her came at last 
to watch with reverence and awe the chaste brightness of her 
presence as she moved among princes and paupers, assuaging the 
woes of each; and all became conscious of an angel of mercy in 
their midst, about whose footsteps sprang the fragrance of resig- 
nation and peace. 

It is charming to note in the many records of this portion of 
her life the, numberless little touches of nature which give 
glimpses of the humanity of the saint. From her little room, 
" which was always wondrously neat and clean," her voice was 
often heard in singing ; and she loved to surround herself with 
flowers, weaving them into garlands, and fondling them as if they 
were sentient creatures. In the silent and prayerful watches of 
the night her love seemed to brood over those whose interests 
she had made her own. Words of half-playful affection and en- 
couragement would go out to the dear sister Lisa, the beloved 
companion Alexia, the little niece Nanna ; there would press 
upon her consciousness circumstances of danger or trial surround- 



30D A BLESSED DAUGHTER OF THE PEOPLE. [June, 

ing some distant member of her spiritual family, and messages 
of courage or exhortation would be borne from her soul to theirs. 
She was skilled in all the accomplishments of the women of her 
time; she could wash and cook, tend the sick, mend and patch 
clothing, make altar linen and vestments. A pretty story is told 
of her sending Pope Urban a present of five oranges which she 
had preserved and gilded herself, with a note in which this 
dainty confection was made to serve as text for an arch little ser- 
mon. Her confessor, Father Thomas del Fonte, often ate bread 
made by her. " Nor did I think it a small thing to have eaten 
it," he adds. The personal love with which her companions re- 
garded her was marvellously great; " Nostra dolcissima madre' 
was the ordinary name by which they addressed her. 

She preserved throughout her career that enthusiasm which 
belongs to great souls. "A noble word," says one of her biog- 
raphers, " could always set her in a glow." " Her mysticism 
has daylight about it," writes another. Her speech as well as 
her dictated writings show a keenness of discernment and an 
adaptation of means to the end which would be remarkable in 
the most cultivated intellect. For each associate she had the 
word of personal appeal and inspiration which particularly suited 
his nature. Her exhortation assumed the form surest to impress 
the soul she desired to reach. To the warrior she used the meta- 
phor of battle and victory ; to the artist she spoke of art ; to the 
poet of poetry ; to the naturalist of nature. There is every- 
where the same compass of mind, the same clear good sense. 
The sinner whom she has reformed is not left through idleness 
or his own devices to fall again into temptation. Work is found 
for him ; a task is set for heart and hands. The devil, returning 
to the swept and garnished house, cannot enter with the seven 
worse than himself. His quarters are occupied. With a master- 
ful grasp she finds even the occupations which suit her changed 
lives. Is there not something marvellous in the unerring sagacity 
which could lead an illiterate and lowly woman to such unfailing 
certainty of result? In all her appeals the keynote is love, that 
love of Christ and the purity of his church which was the 
dominant passion of her soul. Only once or twice among her 
letters does indignation overmaster the exceeding tenderness 
which seemed to look upon imperfection with the sorrowing pity 
of wounded affection rather than the rebuking spirit of anger. 
To the petty malice, the selfish motive, the self-righteous arro- 
gance of the world she seemed dead as if the mortal part of her 
had already assumed that clairvoyant mercifulness of judgment 



1889.] A BLESSED DAUGHTER OF THE PEOPLE. 301 

and vision which we believe can come only with immortality. 
Face to face, or separated by time and space, her calm, kindly 
eyes looked at the naked soul within, whether its bodily envel- 
ope was that of king or of beggar, and the gentlest words that 
ever fell from a mother's lips were less sweet than those with 
which she led the weak and cowardly thing back to virtue. The 
only exception was where she found a minister of God indulging 
in the fatal sloth of carelessness, or the yet more fatal habits 
of active vice. Then her remonstrance' rose to sublimity. 
; Priest!' she addresses one such who was involved in quarrel 
with another 



" Priest ! whom the august Sacrament which it is yours to administer ren- 
ders dear to me, I, Catherine, slave of the servants of Christ, write to you 
in His precious blood desiring to see you become a vessel of election. 
Tear from your soul every hatred and desire for vengeance. You require a 
spotless purity in the chalice you make use of at the altar, and refuse to 
use one that is soiled. Remember, then, that God, who is the sovereign 
truth, demands an equal purity in your soul. Woe that those who should 
be the temples of God are stables for swine ! They carry the fires of hatred 
arid revenge, and an evil will is in them. . . . Alas! alas! are we brutes 
without reason ? One would say so when one sees how we abandon our- 
selves to our wicked passions. ... I wonder how a man like you, whom 
God hath drawn out of the world and desired to make an earthly angel by 
making him the minister of his sacrament I do wonder how you can hate. 
Let there be an end of this, for I declare to you if you persevere the wrath 
of God will burst over your head. . . . Reform your heart and cast out 
from your life all this misery. What a disgrace to see two priests engaged 
in deadly enmity ! I desire that you be both reconciled." 

Could the directness of personal rebuke go farther? And 
this from the lovingest of souls ! 

How different the tone of her message when speaking of the 
same vice to those whose worldly training had led them to look 
upon the giving up of enmity as a stain upon honor! " Dearest 
sons, let me see your souls at peace with our crucified Jesus, 
otherwise you cannot be sharers in his grace. . . . But know 
we cannot love God except through our neighbor. Do not act 
as madmen, who, seeking to injure others, injure only themselves. 
He who kills an enemy kills first himself with the same poniard, 
for he dies to grace. Be reconciled, then, I beseech you, for this 
is the way to put. an end to the great feud we have with him. 
And then come and see me as soon as you can, or I will go to 
you." But when peace means the giving up of principle or the 
relaxation of some heroic strain her words ring like a trumpet- 
tone on the field of battle. There is the clash of swords and 



302 A BLESSED DAUGHTER OP 7 HE PEOPLE. I June, 

shock of arms in her terse, inspiring phrase. " Take, then, Christ 
for your model. Oh ! what heart can behold such a knight and 
such a chieftain atone and the same time, dying, yet a conqueror, 
and not be ready to overcome all weakness and dash bravely 
against his foes? It is impossible." " The will," she says, "is a 
fortress which cannot be stormed unless we ourselves basely 
open the gates. Let reason sit on the tribunal of conscience, 
and pass over not so much as the least thought opposed to God. 
Put sensuality to death ! Let a man reduce it to slavery by 
never giving it what it cries for. If it asks to sleep, let him 
watch ; if it would eat, let him fast ; if it would yield to imagina- 
tion inspired by the devil, let him conquer it with the thought of 
death ! " 

It was not until 1375, after she had been for five or six years 
speeding the cause of virtuous living and reform of abuses both 
inside and outside the church, that her real public life began. 
Many and bitter changes had occurred in the ten years since her 
enrollment in the Third Order. The happy home in the Fullo- 
nica had been broken by the death of its master and the dis- 
persal of its worldly goods in the revolutionary tumult which 
followed the overthrow of the twelve by the nobles. Her 
brothers had removed to Florence, striving to rebuild their 
fallen fortunes, and her mother with a few of the grandchildren 
alone remained in the little house of the Strada del Ora, which 
used to overflow with such abundant life. Catherine still re- 
tained her small, cell-like chamber, which up to this time had 
been her almost constant refuge. Famine and the plague had 
by turns devastated the towered city of the hills, and the fright- 
ful civil condition of the times was scarcely less hard to bear 
than these calamities. The rivalries of candidates for office re- 
sulted in constant scenes of strife and bloodshed, in which, as 
always, the lower classes were the chief sufferers. Anarchy 
reigned throughout the neighboring country, and troops of 
brigands drove the unprotected peasantry within the walls of 
the equally miserable and insecure city. Through all " The 
Blessed One" had brought spiritual and temporal comfort to the 
stricken people. Her mediation had been sought between mem- 
bers of princely houses as well as among the leaders of the 
people, and always with the happiest results. She had in this 
way been admitted to terms of personal intimacy with the fami- 
lies of the Piccolomini, the Saraceni, the Malevolti, the Tolomei, 
and the Salimbeni, from among whom the ten consuls governing 
the city were chosen. These friendships she made use of after- 



1889.] A BLESSED DAUGHTER OF THE PEOPLE. 303 

wards to mitigate the deadly feuds which, after the fashion of 
the age, followed each upheaval of authority, and to which the 
passions of the republican leaders strove to add whatever venom 
partisan spite could lend political hatred. The small society of 
friends who had begun to surround her as a religious family had 
been enlarged by some remarkable conversions among men and 
women of noble birth, who henceforth looked upon her with the 
loving reverence due to their spiritual head. To these were 
added individual members of other orders, drawn toward her by 
the greater strictness and zeal of her life ; men given to abstract 
study, like Father Thomas Caffarini and Bartholomew of Siena; 
others devoted to the profession of letters or of art, like the poet 
Landoccio, or the painter Andrea Vanni ; to the career of arms, 
as Gabriel Piccolomini ; or to the allurements of worldly life, 
like Francesco Malevolti, the Ughelli, and others. It is to Vanni 
we owe the portrait of the saint still to be found in the Church of 
San Domenico. Many others were included in the band of her 
followers ; most of them of note in their day, but only memorable 
now as having for a time been permitted to share the companion- 
ship of the great soul which had drawn them together. It is an- 
other proof of the broad reach of Catherine's character and sym- 
pathies that she could thus move to personal devotion for her, as 
well as to lasting service for God, such strangely different temper- 
aments, from such a wide range of occupations and predilection. 

But she had as yet taken no active part in the general dis- 
turbances which were agitating the Catholic world. Now she 
was to be drawn from her beloved retirement into the midst of 
public affairs. With her usual clearness of judgment, she recog- 
nized the need of some great central idea which should bind to- 
gether the different governments of Italy, divided now by dis- 
cord and enmity. She conceived the project of rousing the 
spirit of chivalry of her native land by an appeal for a crusade 
against the encroachments of the Turks, who were at this time 
threatening the safety of Europe. Her magnificent courage 
and enthusiasm had brought France and even England into sym- 
pathy with her scheme, when work nearer home claimed her 
attention. Petty intrigue had attempted to embroil the pope 
and the Italians in civil strife, and had so far succeeded as to 
cause eighty cities and strong places, with Florence at their head, 
to secede from papal jurisdiction. It was then that Catherine's 
embassies of peace began. She visited the courts of Lucca, Pisa, 
Florence, and Avignon. She saw or communicated with the 
heads of religious houses the Olivetan Monks, the Hermits of 

VOL. XLIX. 20 



304 A BLESSED DAUGHTER OF THE PEOPLE. [June, 

Vallambrosa, the Benedictines of Gorgona and Colci, and num- 
berless monasteries of her own order of St. Dominic. Her gen- 
tleness and firmness healed the breach. Everywhere she left 
behind her greater unity and concord among the rulers, in- 
creased ardor and a closer return to the original spirit of the 
founders among the religious. Her energies were next directed 
toward inducing the removal of the Holy See from Avignon to 
Rome, a result which had been desired with earnest longing for 
years, and which had been vainly attempted by many illustrious 
and ardent souls. For it Dante and Petrarch had besought the 
reigning pontiffs of their time, and the princes of Italy had by 
turns implored and threatened. According to historical evi- 
dence. Catherine's representations were the main and determin- 
ing force which finally secured this end ; and in 1376, after ninety 
years passed on French soil, the throne of St. Peter was restor- 
ed to its proper foundation on the banks of the Tiber. 

Her return to retirement after this result was rudely broken 
by the events following the death of Gregory and the election of 
Urban by the college of cardinals in 1378, which bade fair to de- 
stroy the advantages the church had gained in this last triumph. 

The immediate beginning of the Great Schism and the elec- 
tion of the anti-pope Clement in 1378 drew all her energies and 
courage anew into the struggle to maintain the supremacy of 
Pope Urban, and henceforth, to the hour of her death, this was 
the absorbing end for which she worked and prayed. There can 
be little doubt from authentic data that her overwhelming earn- 
estness, and the spirit she infused among all with whom she came 
in contact, largely influenced the righteous settlement of this 
most lamentable occurrence, although the final union of the 
church was delayed long after her earthly days were over, tt 
was in some respects a sad ending that her eyes should close up- 
on the horrors of religious warfare, let loose upon a country 
already sufficiently cursed with strife and bloodshed. But, called 
to Rome to sustain by her counsels the almost forlorn hope of 
the little body of the faithful, her courage never failed to pre- 
dict victory, and she remained a pillar of strength and a constant 
source of inspiration to the cause of the church. It was thus, 
still cheerful and valiant, her body wasted to a shadow by the 
relentless penances with which to the last she subjected herself, 
her face " like as it were that of an angel," and her glowing 
heart still pouring out words of hope and exhortation, that she 
passed to the glory of the eternal kingdom on the 29th of April, 
1380. 

This account of what might be called the material portion of 



1889.] A BLESSED DAUGHTER OF THE PEOPLE. 305 

a saintly life has been dwelt upon thus at length partly to show 
the actual value to her times of such force and energy of charac- 
ter, partly to bring her record more within the scope of poor 
human intelligence, and largely because the supernatural mani- 
festations connected with her were so wonderful both in number 
and degree that mere mention of them would swell this most in- 
complete record out of all proper size. Her constant intercourse 
with her Heavenly Spouse, her mystic betrothal and marriage, 
the reception of the stigmata, the miraculous outpouring of 
divine grace which flowed from her in streams of light and bless- 
ing, require an inspiration even to relate which is not given to 
the ordinary chronicler. We can better understand the practi- 
cal results of sincere and holy purpose. The visible path trav- 
elled by this blessed woman differed only in intensity of degree 
from the tenderness, the sympathy, and the courage which marks 
that of other noble souls. Yet in the power of abstraction from 
earthly surroundings, in the ecstatic raptures of a spirit removed 
from bodily thraldom by some mysterious strength of devotion, 
in the gift of prophetic insight into human motives, and in the 
outpouring of sublime religious truths, St. Catherine was as 
great a mystic as St. Teresa herself. It is with this phase of 
her character that her religious biographies, over sixty in num- 
ber, have most to do. It is in the perusal of her dialogues, let- 
ters, and prayers, written under the guidance of that hidden in- 
spiration, that they desire us to find evidence of her wondrous 
gifts. And surely, if divine oracle ever spoke through human lips, 
it would be in such phrases of mingled love and fire as dropped 
from hers. 

A girl wholly illiterate and untrained, who was not able to 
read or to write until the sunburst of heavenly illumination 
opened the understanding of this as of deeper knowledge to 
her ardent longing, she pours out a flood of thought, eloquent, 
poetic, forceful, upon every subject connected with perfection of 
life and conflict of the spirit, which takes its place in the fore- 
most rank of religious compositions. Swayed by the uncon- 
scious power which moves her, she addresses her admonitions to 
the Vicar of Christ as fearlessly as to the poorest stray sheep 
from his fold. Wrapped in a trance which seemed to bring her 
face to face with divine realities hidden from the weak eyes of 
mortals, her soul, like Prometheus', snatched fire from heaven 
wherewith to animate the flagging zeal of man ; and she roused 
herself again to the needs of earth with this immortal ardor burn- 
ing in her veins and communicating itself to every surrounding 
creature. That there were shown in the records of these pheno- 



306 A BLESSED DAUGHTER OF THE PEOPLE. [June/ 

mena the workings of an invisible power widely removed from 
natural laws must be admitted by all who without prejudice in- 
vestigate the overwhelming evidence in its support. Adolphus 
Trollope, in his contemptuous summing up of the case as that of 
"an enthusiastic, strong-willed, cataleptic girl," goes wholly out- 
side the facts he is trying to explain. Catalepsy is not an accom- 
paniment of strong will nor of mental force and clearness, nor of 
continued action in any form of earnest, wholesome thought, 
On the contrary, medical testimony goes to show almost invari- 
ably increasing weakness of mind as well as of body, with lack of 
continuity in application and energy, with incoherence and ec- 
centricity of action, and tendencies, where the physical pheno- 
mena are not affected by curative measures, toward final imbecil- 
ity. To be a cataleptic for twenty years, and meantime to go on 
increasing in clearness of perception, keenness of reasoning, ac- 
curacy of language, and sobriety of judgment, would be a mira- 
cle as great as any other which has yet been claimed for St. 
Catherine. If Mr. Trollope desires to lift us out of the frying- 
pan of what he terms superstition, he must take care not to let 
us drop into the fire of scientific impossibility after this fash- 
ion. 

But it is to her human side that the human in us, troubled 
and care-tossed, which reaches so gropingly for example, loves to 
turn. It is to the creature who bore misunderstanding with 
equanimity and persecution with patience ; who carried bodily 
infirmity with cheerfulness, and who never strayed so far into 
the heaven of contemplation as to be lost to the cry of a suffer- 
ing soul on earth. It is to her who loved little children and 
flowers, and who sang to herself in her cell. To the woman at 
the same time humble but fearless ; full of sympathy and divine 
pity ; beautiful and joyous of face, sweet of voice, looking ten- 
derly upon the natural glories of God's lower world as well as 
upon the rapt mysteries of his higher universe ; a patriot when 
patriotism meant danger ; a standard-bearer of principle when 
to be constant meant death. It is to her who took up the menial 
tasks of the household and glorified them to the honor of God ; 
who nursed the sick and consoled the sorrowful ; who was ready 
to take, when she was called by authority, part in the govern- 
ment of nations ; who helped to make the history of her time. 
It is to her whose scrupulous and exquisite neatness shone from 
her poor garments and her lowly cell like a halo of sanctity 
crowning the brow of poverty ; who was surrounded with an 
atmosphere of such personal as well as spiritual affection that 



1889.] A BLESSED DAUGHTER OF THE PEOPLE. 307 

her companions gave her pet names and spoke of her in terms of 
endearment. What more bountiful life, even in the natural 
order, could be asked than this, or what more encouraging ? 
Yet this was but the outer husk of the reality of her existence. 
The instant the pressure of circumstance or need of action was 
over, her soul was withdrawn into that state of exaltation which 
appeared to be its natural condition. Full of the most generous 
interest in whatever was proposed to her by duty, the moment 
this strain was loosened she was again in that uplifting of spirit- 
ual communion from which she drew all the forces of nature as 
well as grace. How otherwise account for so much of accom- 
plishment in so short a life constantly racked by grievous physi- 
cal infirmity ? From the mystical contemplation of these divine 
mysteries she emerged refreshed as a child from the bosom of its 
mother, and filled with the same tireless activity. In the alem- 
bic of this ardor no earthly dross could remain. The false 
standard by which the world measures vanished before her 
purified vision. What we call great and what we call little 
were the same to her. There was no human pride to hold her 
from taking the vilest and lowliest in her arms and carrying him 
thus bodily into the presence of God; there was no false humil- 
ity to prevent her scaling the loftiest heights of enterprise. The 
mute cry of some dying soul for help drew her from her trance 
of blessedness as swiftly and as gladly as the call to fill some 
post of danger so imminent that all others shrank from it. 
When none other could be found to enter the lion's mouth as en- 
voy to the false and cruel Joanna of Naples, she insisted on being 
chosen for the appointment until the absolute command of her 
spiritual directors interposed between her and what was known 
to be certain death. When there was question of a messenger to 
the court of France in the interests of Pope Urban, and the diffi- 
culties in the way were so enormous that the heroic Blessed Rai- 
mund of Capua, who had been charged with the commission, 
turned back, overpowered by insurmountable obstacles, she offer- 
ed herself with an earnestness of desire which almost overcame 
the prudence of her counsellors. Where abuses in the laxity of 
rule or the devotion of religious houses demanded reproof and 
correction, she entered upon them with the same lofty courage, 
and took upon herself the thankless task of reform, more fatigu- 
ing and more formidable than any other which can be demand- 
ed of human nature. But her inspired words carried healing 
for the wounds they made ; her judgment seized the only means 
of safety, her great, generous, vehement enthusiasm roused some- 
thing of its own fervor in the most indifferent. Her letters to 



3o8 A BLESSED DAUGHTER OF THE PEOPLE. [June, 

Gregory and Urban, to Charles of France and Joanna, to the 
cardinals and bishops, show how the soldier in her arose at the 
call of danger, and how the sweet gentleness of her spirit har- 
dened into the adamant of resolve when the necessities of souls 
called for sternness. 

These letters are full of poetry as well as practical wisdom 
" One who would see the stars of God's mysteries," she writes, 
" must first descend into the deep well of humility." Again, " O 
Hope, the sister of Faith, 'tis thou that with the key . . . dost 
open the portals of eternal life ; thou guardest the city of the 
soul against the enemy of confusion ; thou slackenest not thy 
steps when the demon would seek to trouble the soul with the 
thought of her sins and plunge her into despair, but, generously 
pressing on in the path of virtue, thou placest the crown of vic- 
tory on the brow of perseverance." " Mary, that sweet field in 
which was sown the seed of the divine word." " The perfume 
of earthly happiness comes only with the holy thought of God ; 
it is lost to those who would possess it unlawfully." But it is 
when love speaks, love, the strongest feeling of her nature, that 
she is most excellent. The letters to her intimate friends are 
exquisite in their happy quaintness of expression. " Carissimo 
et sopra carissimo figlio." she writes to one, and adds: " I may 
well call you dear, since you have cost me so much trouble." 
"Bless my son Simon," she writes to one of the young novices, 
"and bid him open his mouth for some milk his mother is about 
to send him." " Tell your brother," she writes in another place, 
" that a child should never be afraid of his mother, and should 
run to her more especially when he is hurt." "I am going to 
scold you well, my dearest daughters, for forgetting what I told 
you," she begins to some Florentine ladies who attempted to de- 
fend her from evil report. And to the beloved little Nanna, 
daughter of the equally beloved brother Benincasa, she writes as 
one only can whose sweet motherliness teaches her the simple 
phrase which touches the eager spirit of childhood with convic- 
tion. 

In summing up the influence of this remarkable woman upon 
her own and subsequent times one is moved to wonder at the 
intensity of energy which could compress so much into so few 
years. The first half of her life was passed in the close privacy 
of the household ; through the remainder every obstacle which 
confirmed ill-health, lowliness of station, ignorance, and tradi- 
tion of sex could place in her way were there, with no other 
lever to remove them than virtue, then as now apt to be jostled 



1889.] A BLESSED DAUGHTER OF THE PEOPLE. 309 

discourteously by the ambitions and passions of men. To have 
revived the old spirit of self-denial among multitudes in an age 
of luxury and effeminacy ; to have forced the claims of humanity 
on the blind pride of despotism ; to have built up honor and self- 
respect among the lowly, who felt themselves raised by her ele- 
vation, was but part of the work of this daughter of the people. 
She left behind her reform in almost all the religious communi- 
ties of Italy which had become tainted by worldly vanities, in 
many high places of the church which had been made stepping, 
stones for ambition, among princes who had been taught to hold 
the doctrine of blood atonement as proof of chivalry and honor. 
She had changed the political aspect of the world by the removal 
of the popes from Avignon to Rome in the face of opposition 
from the most powerful nation in Europe, with the combined 
strength of pride and interest arrayed against the project. She 
had endowed the literature of her country with a lasting heri- 
tage of eloquent and refined devotional thought, which takes its 
place in history with the work of Petrarch, who came before, and 
Vittoria Colonna, who succeeded her. And she was an enduring 
testimony of the large wisdom and broad views of the church, 
which in such an age could throw open such exceptional op- 
portunities for usefulness and action to a woman. 

"In the dismal record of those gloomy times," says Creighton in his 
History of the Papacy, " she presents a picture of purity, devotion, and self- 
sacrifice to which we turn with feelings of relief. She has a claim upon 
our reverence higher than that of a saint of the mediaeval church. A low- 
born maiden, without education or culture, she gave the only possible ex- 
pression in her age and generation to the aspiration for national unity and 
the restoration of ecclesiastical purity." 

Admirable testimony from an impartial judge. About her 
hovered a radiance of love and helpfulness which shone into the 
bodies and souls of men, producing therein such marvels of heal- 
ing and such infusion of her own heavenly spirit of purity and 
hope that she moved in an atmosphere of miracle. If, as scien- 
tists assure us, not a leaf falls from the tree nor a pebble rolls 
upon the shore without in some measure affecting the harmony 
of the universe, what tremendous forces must have been put in 
play, changing the destinies of unborn generations, rounding im- 
mature impulse into the shapeliness of fixed purpose, changing 
the cowardice of weakness into beautiful strength of endeavor, 
and keeping alive the fire of prayerful devotion in the dark 
places of life, from the glorified union of t faith and good works 
which marked the earthly path of St. Catherine of Siena! 

MARY ELIZABETH BLAKE. 



3io ^THE TOWN AND UNIVERSITY OF CAMBRIDGE. [June, 



THE TOWN AND UNIVERSITY OF CAMBRIDGE. 

THE town of Cambridge contains forty thousand inhabitants, 
and is reached by either the Great Northern or Great Eastern 
lines. The [Cambridge railway station is* a mile or so south of 
the town, or rather was, for a long stream of yellow brick houses 
has trickled out statiohwards, as usually happens, and the new 
Cavendish College has been built in this suburb, though its 
distance from Senate House, library, and museums must be dis- 
advantageous. The road from the station, if followed far 
enough, under the different names of St. Andrew's Street, Sid- 
ney Street, and Bridge Street, crosses the Cam, traverses the 
original town of Briton and Roman, and leads beyond to Hunt- 
ingdon. However, the more important of the two main arteries 
is Trumpington Street, King's Parade, and Trinity Street, the 
name changing from time to time ; this thoroughfare is nearly 
parallel to the river to the left and St. Andrew's Street to the 
right (walking northwards), and on it more public buildings and 
colleges are placed than elsewhere. 

Just outside the town on the Trumpington Road are the 
Botanic Gardens, maintained at the cost of the university and 
open to the public daily, in every way creditable, but calling for 
no special remark. By the gardens is Hobson's Conduit, a 
good specimen of seventeenth-century stone-work, removed 
from the market-place where it had stood since 1610. Water 
was then brought to the town from some springs at a distance, 
and old Hobson, the carrier, a great benefactor of town and 
university, who died in 1630, aged eighty-six, was a prime mover 
in this beneficial work. Brisk streams of sparkling water flow 
on either side of Trumpington and St. Andrew's Streets, as at 
Denver, Colorado, and it was a tale for freshmen that in the 
Prince of Wales' year at Cambridge the annual boat procession 
was removed from the river to the streets, the boats passing 
along these brooks and the crews dipping their oars into saucers 
of water borne on the pavement by their friends. The first 
remarkable building in Trumpington Street is Addenbrooke's 
Hospital, founded by a benevolent physician of the university ; 
its wards are airy and spacious, but the Cambridge medical 
students cannot gain the experience in the hospital of a healthy 
little country town that one of the huge institutions of the 
metropolis would afford them. Yet they had, and doubtless 



1889.] THE TOWN AND-JjNivERSiTY OF CAMBRIDGE. 311 

have, some masterly operators. Proceeding, our attention is 
arrested by the magnificent portico of the Fitzwilliam Museum, 
one of the finest examples of Corinthian architecture extant. 
It is over fifty years old, and its galleries contain some choice 
works of Rembrandt, Titian, Paul Veronese, and other masters, 
and Ruskin has presented a fine collection of Turner's water- 
colors. A wiseacre in his Cambridge Guide, now probably for- 
gotten, attributed the immorality in the university to the Fitz- 
william pictures, probably carping at Titian's depiction of the 
human form divine. There are a number of antique marbles, 
casts, Greek coins, Greek vases ; Greek, Roman, and Phoenician 
glass from Cypriote tombs ; Egyptian monuments, rare books, 
manuscripts, missals. There is the volume of the famous book, 
Assertio septem Sacramentorum adversus Martin Lutherum edita ab 
invictissimo Anglice et Francicz rege et do. Hibernicz Henrico ejus 
nomine octavo, which Henry gave to Leo X. The French Revo- 
lutionary army took it from the Vatican. The king's signature 
is at the beginning and end of this volume, and the work gained 
from the pope the title of Fidei Defensor, now to be seen on 
English coins. All the title after Lutherum is erased by Leo's 
pen. A school of art is growing up round this excellent 
museum. 

Adjacent to the Fitzwilliam are the grounds of Peterhouse. 
This is the oldest college in the university, having been founded 
in 1284 by Hugh de Balsham, Bishop of Ely. Merton College, 
Oxford, on which it was modelled, had been established shortly 
before. The intention was to give to the secular clergy the 
learning previously monopolized by the monks, and it must not 
be forgotten that this meant educating all the professions, as the 
clergy six hundred years ago were not only the divines but the 
physicians and lawyers of the period. The colleges were more 
like our schools ; it was only two centuries ago that the present 
age of entry, eighteen or nineteen, became general. In a modern 
undergraduates' rooms a number of lads formerly herded in 
charge of a master of arts, who enjoyed the luxury of a standing 
bed under which during the daytime the couches of the pupils 
were stowed. A leaden ewer for general use completed the 
furniture, and it is no wonder that cutaneous diseases were com- 
mon. The students were strictly watched and only permitted 
out of college when accompanied by a master. They were sup- 
posed to converse solely in Latin. At five A.M. they attended 
chapel, and then lectures in hall. Dinner was at eleven, a few 
hours in the afternoon were given to sports, supper was served 



312 THE TOWN AND UNIVERSITY OF CAMBRIDGE. [June, 

at seven ; then, after the manner of the dame famous in nursery 
rhyme who selected a shoe for her dwelling, defaulters were 
publicly thrashed ; on which all retired to rest. However 
dreary this life may appear to a nineteenth-century 'varsity man, 
it was preferable to that of the non-collegiate student. Though 
not then as rich as subsequent bequests have made them, the 
colleges had some endowments, and were possessed of their 
breweries and bakeries, dove-cotes and hen-roosts, store-rooms 
for salt meat, and fish-ponds ; their inmates had not to cast them- 
selves on the benevolence of the townsfolk, singing around town 
for their supper, as was sometimes the case with the mediaeval 
students. But there were " sizars ' in the colleges, poor men 
who, failing to get scholarships and unable to pay the pension, 
were fain to carry in the sizings or portions of the Fellows at 
meals, and to perform other drudgery for their support. Peter- 
house in the second court exhibits the original building, restored 
and improved, b.ut still the same. Fortunately, in the bad old 
days of architectural vandalism the failure of funds prevented 
the refacing of this part of the college; only the first court was 
assailed, and the charming Gothic windows and doorways cover- 
ed by a layer of dreary stone-work in the style of the house that 
Jack built. This court has the rare advantage, from a sanitary- 
standpoint, of being open on one side so as to admit the east 
wind, which, however, no one but poor Charles Kingsley ever 
welcomed, coming chill and biting as it does from Spitzbergen 
ice-fields, and piercing to nerve and marrow. 

The Renaissance chapel at Peterhouse should be visited. It 
stands in the middle of the court, and contains some fine Munich 
glass. But in so dismal a climate one doubts the wisdom of exclud- 
ing what little daylight exists by filling the windows with opaque 
glass; better paint the walls and let the sunshine enter when 
there is any. Some irreverent undergraduates once screwed up 
the door of this chapel, covering the screw-heads with putty and 
staining it to resemble the rest of the door. In the morning the 
porter could not enter to ring the bell for chapel, the master 
grew purple with indignation, and the dean, frustrated in his 
anticipations of devotion, took refuge in unmeasured profanity. 
But college chapels are a comparatively modern luxury. At 
first the colleges worshipped in the parish churches, and Peter- 
house is now connected by a gallery with the adjacent church of 
Little St. Mary's, which it once used for prayers. This church 
replaces an old Norman or Saxon church of St. Peter, of which 
an arch remains in the present building. It was consecrated in 



1889.] THE TOWN AND UNIVERSITY OF CAMBRIDGE. 313, 

1352, and built from the designs of Alan de Walsingham, Prior 
of Ely, the architect of the glorious Lady Chapel and Octagon 
of that cathedral. His style will be recognized in the charming 
decorated tracery of the Little St. Mary's east window, which 
looks toward Trumpington Street. 

On the other side of the way is the lovely College of Pem- 
broke, which has been much enlarged of late years. It is named 
from its foundress, Mary de St. Paul, widow of Aymer de Val- 
ence, Earl of Pembroke. She was " maid, wife, and widow all in 
a day," her husband meeting his death in a tournament on the day 
of his marriage. The bereaved lady devoted her means and her 
blighted existence to the service of Heaven. She founded this 
college in 1347, and also built the nunnery of Denny Abbey, be- 
tween Cambridge and Ely, the handsome windows and arches ot 
which are to be seen in the present farm-house. This place was 
originally an island slightly elevated above the then undrained 
fen, and is called from the Danes, who, after burning Cambridge 
in 870, and again in 1010, there established themselves. In the 
treasury at Pembroke are the only papal bulls left at Cambridge ; 
they were both drawn up at Avignon by Innocent VI. and Urban 
III. respectively, the one granting permission to erect a college 
chapel, and the other for the addition to it of a campanile. All 
other bulls, besides charters and valuable documents, were burnt 
by Town in the great Town and Gown row of 1381, when univer- 
sity and college chests were ransacked, and the university com- 
pelled to renounce its privileges. One can hardly wonder at it. 
How could Town be expected to see the justice of the chancellor 
regulating market prices and citing citizens who had quarrelled 
with students to appear before him for judgment? So in the 
Wat Tyler rebellion Town took its revenge. It was, however, 
short-lived ; for their Graces of Ely and Norwich, with lances 
and excommunications, came to the rescue, illustrating the benefit 
of the union of the temporal and spiritual powers. Alas! the 
day of such doughty churchmen is no more. 

The Pembroke Chapel is by Sir Christopher Wren, the archi- 
tect of St. Paul's and so many of the London churches built after 
the great fire of 1666. He erected the chapel for his uncle, the 
Bishop of Ely, in fulfilment of his vow that if ever he got out of 
the college tower, in which from 1642 to 1658 he was imprisoned 
by the Roundheads, and if church and king were restored, he 
would found some suitable memorial. The bishop died 1667,. 
being eighty-two years old, and was interred in the chapel, and 
his handsome mitre and pastoral staff of silver gilt are here pre- 



314 THE TOWN AND UNIVERSITY OF CAMBRIDGE. [June, 

served. In the library are two of Caxton's books, the Golden 
Legend and Gower's Confessio Amantis\ the college also pos- 
sesses the Anathema cup given it in 1481 by Bishop Langton, of 
Winchester. Its inscription, " Qui alienaverit anathema sit," 
probably saved it in 1641, when most of the college plate at both 
the universities was melted down to pay the royal troops. It is 
the earliest plate in Cambridge bearing the English hail-mark. 
The foundress's cup has also been preserved. Pembroke has 
produced distinguished men William Pitt, for example. Gray 
left the original manuscript of his " Elegy " to his college, and 
Bishop Andrewes bequeathed it his complete works. Spenser 
was a sizar here, and the mulberry-tree he planted may still be 
seen ; Bradford, Ridley, and Rogers, all Pembroke men, w^re 
burned under Queen Mary in 1555, after the custom of the times. 

A side street skirting Pembroke connects with St. Andrew's 
Street ; we will pass down it, and then return. On the right are 
the extensive grounds of Downing College; in fact, so much ver- 
dant meadow is there that the group of plain stone buildings, 
erected some eighty years ago, are hardly noticed. Who go to 
Downing, or why they do so, is a thing that " no fellah can find 
out," but it used to be said that married men and those much 
above the usual age of undergraduates affected this college. On 
the other side of the way are the Science schools, a fine, spacious 
block of buildings, standing where once the Austin Friars' house, 
and later the Botanic Gardens, were situated. The schools are 
comparatively modern, and of the pale yellow brick made from 
the Cambridge gault, which is the customary building material 
hereabouts. 

Proceeding, we see the fine stone front of Emmanuel College 
facing us ; it is on the other side of St. Andrew's Street, and oc- 
cupies the site of the Dominican convent founded here in 1240. 
It was built to maintain Puritan principles in 1584, the founder 
boasting that he had turned the friars' church into a dining-hall 
and their refectory into a chapel. In the library is a Venetian 
Hebrew Old Testament of the thirteenth century ; and it will 
interest Americans to know that John Harvard was a student 
here. Retracing our steps, we see in Trumpington Street a 
stone building with a large, square tower ; it is the Pitt Press, 
built in 1831. The university printing is done here; it is collo- 
quially termed the Freshman's Church, some novices taking it 
for a place of worship. John Siberch, a German, in 1521 printed 
in Cambridge seven little books, being the first executed in Eng- 
land which contained Greek characters. The universities and 



1889.] THE TOWN AND UNIVERSITY OF CAMBRIDGE. 315 

the queen's printer alone are privileged to print the authorized 
Bible and Prayer-book. Opposite the Pitt is St. Botolph's 
Church, cased in flint and containing fine old rood and chapel 
screens and some good monuments. Botolph was evidently a 
favorite saint in England from the number of churches dedicated 
to him ; hence, also, Botolphstown or Boston. Silver Street 
leads by the Pitt to the river bridge and to Queen's, which 
fronts on a lane parallel to Trumpington Street and backs on the 
river. It is architecturally and historically one of the most in- 
teresting of Cambridge colleges and has been little tampered 
with. It is of red brick in the domestic and collegiate style of 
the fifteenth century. The first court is entered by the usual mas- 
sive tower, on which formerly was the observatory ; the lovely 
little chapel and the library are on the right, and the hall, kitch- 
en, butteries, and combination room in front. The remaining 
sides of the court contain rooms for students. Passing between 
the hall and butteries, we reach the charming Cloister court, and 
by it is the tower where Erasmus formerly resided. On the 
right of the first court is another, the most agreeable of all. It 
has but one range of chambers, and is surrounded by the garden 
of the president and that of the fellows. The Carmelites' house 
was originally here, and much of their stained glass is jumbled 
confusedly in the library windows. A romantic wooden bridge 
spans the river leading from the cloister court to the Queen's 
Grove, which is a charming riparian pleasaunce with its gravel 
walks and elms, its arbors and tennis court. In the library is an 
Indulgence from Caxton's press, dated 1489. Also about twenty 
thousand volumes, the chains by which books were secured when 
they were worth stealing still in some cases remaining. The 
hall, with its high-pitched roof of black oak, its tessellated pave- 
ment, and tasteful chimney-piece in encaustic tiles, its oriel win- 
dow filled with the arms of founders and benefactors, and its val- 
uable paintings, is worthy of careful study. Margaret of Anjou r 
emulous in college-building of her hapless spouse, founded the 
college in 1448. Civil strife retarded its progress, but when the 
White Rose proved victorious her former maid of honor and 
successful rival, Elizabeth Woodville, refounded the house of 
the former queen, and the name of the college, and the entwined 
white and red roses frequent in its decorations, indicate that it 
owes its existence to Yorkist and Lancastrian alike. A portrait 
of the queen of the fourth Edward hangs in the hall, showing her 
delicate complexion and yellow hair, a charming, winsome 
dame. Henry VII., Catherine of Aragon, and Wolsey hav 






316 THE TOWN AND UNIVERSITY OF CAMBRIDGE. [June, 

lodged in Queen's, and Erasmus accepted in 1506 the invitation 
of John Fisher, then president, to establish himself here. But 
he could not stomach the college ale, which he found " raw, small, 
-and windy," so got a friend to send him casks of Rheinwein from 
Germany. For some reason, however, the distinguished for- 
eigner was not popular, and one college forbade the introduction 
of his Greek Testament within its precincts, " on shipboard or 
horseback, by wagons or porters." 

Between Queen's and Trumpington Street is " Cat's," or St. 
Catherine's College, a plain brick building of comparatively re- 
cent date, calling for no especial mention ; it was founded in 1473. 
Adjacent is the Bull Hotel, and opposite the fine stone frontage 
of Corpus. The main portion of the college is a good specimen 
of modern Gothic, but the small quadrangle, from which a gal- 
lery communicates with Benet Church, with its ivy-clad walls 
and break-neck staircases, presents the ancient aspect of the col- 
lege unaltered. It was founded in 1352 by the guilds of Corpus 
Christi and St. Mary, and was at first called St. Benedict's, from 
being attached to that church, whose old Saxon tower possesses 
high antiquarian interest. More ancient plate has survived at 
Corpus than at any other Cambridge college, and an ale-horn of 
1347 is worth inspection. Also the gripe's (griffin's) eye, a cup 
formed of an ostrich's (or, as our untravelled forefathers supposed, 
a griffin's) egg, once used as a pyx. The library contains one of 
the best collections of manuscripts in England ; instance a Psal- 
ter and Litany written at Rheims in 884, the Saxon Chronicle 
from Canterbury Cathedral and other Saxon manuscripts, and 
St. Jerome's Latin version of the Gospels, sent by Gregory the 
Great to Augustine at Canterbury. There are also some unique 
coins, a shekel and half-shekel amongst others. 

We now come to the finest portion of Cambridge, King's 
Parade. On the right are some of the best shops in the town, 
and opposite, beyond a smooth lawn, a fine openwork stone 
screen (in the centre of which is a porter's lodge with a turret 
like a huge pepper-pot) bounds the extensive grounds of King's 
which extend to the river. Perhaps Winchester School and 
New College, Oxford, suggested to the sixth Henry his twin 
foundation of Eton and King's, and his designs for this latter 
were right royal. However, the troubles that stayed his strong- 
minded consort's work at Queen's, and which cost Henry his 
crown and life, stayed their fulfilment, and the great court has 
never been completed. Henry wrecked churches and streets to 
provide a suitable site for his college, and the hall, provost's 



1889.] THE TOWN AND UNIVERSITY OF CAMBRIDGE. 317 

lodge, and other buildings to the south are fine specimens of 
modern stone-work. One cannot speak so highly of the gaunt, 
bleak pile of masonry facing the entrance, but it contains capital 
sets of rooms, which is doubtless the main point in the eyes of a 
college fellow. On the north side is the chapel, the last great 
effort of Gothic art in the country. It is two hundred and 
eighty-nine feet long and ninety-four feet in height, a plain rect- 
angle, with towers one hundred and forty-six feet high at the 
four corners. The vaulted stone roof with its fan tracery, the 
twelve keystones, of a ton each, conveying no idea of weight, is a 
marvellous triumph of the architect's art. There are thirteen 
huge windows on either side, and one at each end. All but the 
west window are ancient, and by far the finest specimens of me- 
diaeval glass remaining ; the subjects, many of them exquisitely 
wrought, form a complete biblical history. As Cromwell used 
the chapel for drill-room and stable, it is a mystery how they es- 
caped destruction. A fringe of chapels, placed between the but- 
tresses, lines either side of the building, which is, as usual, divided 
into chapel and ante-chapel by a heavy, organ-topped screen. 
This is of the time of Henry VIII., and is decorated with the ini- 
tials of Henry and Anne Boleyn, intertwined with true-lover's- 
knots. The choir stalls, finely carved, are also Renaissance work.. 
The leading ornaments of stone and woodwork are royal devices : 
the rose, first borne by Edward I. ; the portcullis of the Beauforts 
and Tudors; the fleur-de-lis of France; the antelopes, supporters 
of the arms of Henry VI., and the dragons and greyhounds of 
Henry VII. In the ante-chapel there is a curious half-figure of 
the Virgin carved on a rose. There is no other such monument 
of perpendicular Gothic as King's Chapel. The choral service 
is gloriously rendered twice daily in term-time by a strong and 
highly trained choir, and the lessons read from a magnificent 
brass lectern of 1509. A papal bull exempted the college from 
the jurisdiction of the Archbishop of Canterbury, the Bishop of 
Ely, and the university (except in scholastic matters), and until 
thirty years ago students of King's received their degrees with- 
out examination; they were few in number in those days, and all 
received fellowships. Of late the efficiency of King's has been 
vastly increased by throwing open its doors, and it now has 
forty-eight scholars, half of them non-Etonians, besides a number 
of pensioners. Walpole may be named as one of many distin- 
guished members of King's. Perhaps the finest view in Cam- 
bridge may be obtained from the west door of King's Chapel : 
on the right is the palatial College of Clare, on the left the King's 



3i8 THE TOWN AND UNIVERSITY OF CAMBRIDGE. [June, 

lodge, and in front the smooth, extensive lawn, with the stone 
bridge over the river, beyond which are the lofty elms of " the 
Backs," that vast, umbrageous wilderness of common, meadow, 
and garden, the Cambridge glory par excellence, surpassing, 
Oxonians frankly concede, anything the sister university can 
display. 

We said that King's was formerly a " peculiar "i.e., exempt 
from episcopal jurisdiction ; opposite it, down a narrow passage, 
is the little church of St. Edward, a " peculiar ' now. The 
tower is of the twelfth, and the nave of the fourteenth, century. 
Hard by, in an open space between King's' Parade and the mar- 
ket-place, is the parish and university church of Great St. 
Mary's. It is the centre of the town, distances being reckoned 
from a stone in the western tower. There was a church here 
very early, and the university has used it for six hundred years ; 
the present structure, however, is comparatively modern, only 
four hundred years old, though traces of the earlier building can 
be distinguished in the walls. Anciently not merely religious 
functions, but all important proceedings were enacted here by 
the university ; lectures were delivered and dramatic representa- 
tions given, platforms and galleries being erected for the purpose. 
The borough representatives also held their meetings here. 
The peal of twelve bells is the finest toned in the eastern coun- 
ties, the tenor, two tons in weight, being a " maiden bell" that 
is, no tuning or chipping having been needed on it. It tolls 
matins at six in the morning and curfew at nine in the evening, 
and chimes are rung at the quarters. 

On Sunday afternoons the university sermons are delivered 
at St. Mary's by selected preachers, heads of houses, doctors, and 
university officers occupying the choir, masters of arts the 
body of the church, and undergraduates and bachelors the gal- 
leries ; on special days when doctors don their scarlet gowns 
they present a brilliant spectacle. The versatile Mr. Sabine Bar- 
ing-Gould, of Clare, tells of a priestlet who employed St. Mary's 
pulpit to gibe at his seniors. A certain plethoric college master 
was accustomed to enjoy his siesta comfortably enough in his 
stall during the sermon. However, this preacher effectually de- 
prived him of all repose one Sunday by emphatically repeating 
his text, "What! can you not watch one hour?' whenever 
the dignitary was on the point of dropping off. It was long be- 
fore the homilist's services were again in request, but, being 
given another chance, he addressed his hearers thus : " Whereas, 
last time I said, Can ye not watch one hour? and it gave offence. 



1889.] THE TOWN AND UNIVERSITY OF CAMBRIDGE. 319 

I will now say, Sleep on and take your rest " ; and St. Mary's 
pulpit knew him no more. Such shallow buffoons with their ill- 
timed levities are of the past, and we live in a more earnest age. 

Petty Cury leads from the market-place to Christ's College, 
and in this street is an ancient inn-yard, with outside galleries on 
the upper floor. Such was the English play-house in the time of 
Shakspere and Ben Jonson the stage a platform in the yard, 
the yard itself the pit, the gallery, the dress circle. *' God's 
house," founded 1439, was converted in 1505 into Christ's Col- 
lege by the Lady Margaret, the foundress of John's, and the 
gateways of both colleges are similar. But in 1714 the first 
court was re faced (or defaced), and is now unattractive. The 
Renaissance court of Inigo Jones has, however, been spared. 
Milton was here seven years, being duly flogged like another, 
and his mulberry -tree still flourishes in the garden ; here he wrote 
his " Hymn on Christ's Nativity," and 4< Lycidas," in memory of 
a promising young fellow of the house who was drowned. Sir 
Philip Sidney, Leland, Latimer, and Paley were also " Chris- 
tians." Trinity Church hard by replaced the temple destroyed 
in the great fire of 1174. On removing a gallery of late the re- 
cumbent figure of a bishop full vested was exposed, and as the 
church was once the property of the Norfolk Abbey of West 
Dereham, this may represent one of its abbots. Not far off, on 
the site of the great Franciscan house of 1240, is Sidney-Sussex 
College, founded in 1595 by Frances, widow of the third Earl of 
Sussex and aunt of Sir Philip Sidnev. The fine old building has 
been be-stuccoed and spoilt, but it has its memories. On the 
day of Shakspere's death Oliver Cromwell entered here as a 
fellow commoner. He was three times Member of Parliament 
for Cambridge, and high steward of the borough till his death. 
His family and the Montagues, the chief land-holders of Hunt- 
ingdonshire, were benefactors of the college. However, the 
vicar of Huntingdon once gleefully showed the writer in the 
parish books that Oliver had twice been^put to penance before 
the whole congregation. Sidney has in the library a unique 
copy of the- York Pye (Pica sive directoriuin Eboracense) of I59> 
and a Saxon Pontifical of Durham nine hundred years old, lately 
discovered bound up with a manuscript, de naturd avium. 

Fronting Great St. Mary's, the Senate House and Library 
stand between King's and Caius, and beyond Clare and Trinity 
Halls, glued together like a couple of oysters, occupy the space 
to the river. The Senate House is a fine Corinthian building, in 
stone, of 1730, one hundred feet in length. t Within it is oak 
VOL. XLIX. 21 



,320 THE TOWN AND UNIVERSITY OF CAMBRIDGE. [June, 

panelled, and paved with black and white marble; meetings of 
the senate and university examinations are held here. The vice- 
chancellor and heads of houses occupy the dais, and the senate 
the floor, and when degrees are conferred a thousand under- 
graduates in the galleries uproariously signify their approval or 
otherwise of each arrival below with scant regard for digni- 
taries. Persistency will ordinarily secure a degree, however 
shallow the applicant ; other means failing, the dullard catches a 
cold no hard matter in foggy Albion and producing a medical 
certificate, is leniently put through his paces in his own rooms 
by an examiner only anxious to escape, and an cegrotat is con- 
ferred on the malade imaginaire. When the college tutor criti- 
cised the matriculation performance of a Scottish freshman the 
latter indignantly replied that he had graduated already at St. 
Andrews. " Quite possible, sir," was the rejoinder ; " many 
gentlemen take their degrees here and know nothing at all." 
The B.A. once secured, M.A. follows in three years time on pay- 
ment of some thirty pounds in fees, and twelve years more con- 
ducts to D.D. True, for this latter a Latin sermon must be 
preached in the Senate House. We remember an obtrusive un- 
dergraduate being asked by a porter to retire for a minute as a 
gentleman was taking his D.D. ; had he remained the sermon 
must have been read and it probably was non-existent. LL.D. 
can be taken four years earlier than D.D., but, excepting school- 
masters and bishops, most graduates rest satisfied with M.A. 
The London University degrees are a guarantee for higher 
scholarship than a Poll degree at Cambridge ; honors, of course, 
is another matter. But London is only an examining body. 
" They may call it a university," said Lord Brougham, " but it 
will only be a grammar shop." Living under 'varsity influences 
for three years is one thing, and poring over books in solitary 
London lodgings another. 

The University Library, the oldest in England, possesses 
four hundred thousand volumes, and is located in an unworthy 
building, part modern, part five hundred years old. The manu- 
script of the Gospels, Epistles, and Acts of the -Apostles, in 
Greek and Latin on opposite pages, was presented by Theodore 
Beza in 1581 ; it is thirteen hundred years old and was found in 
the monastery of St. Irenasus at Lyons. Coeval with this is a 
Buddhist manuscript in Sanscrit lately obtained from Nepaul. 
Bede's Ecclesiastical History, copied in his lifetime, and Cax- 
ton's earliest works are also interesting. Beneath are the schools 
where lectures are delivered. Who that has listened to the vivid 



1889.] THE TOWN AND UNIVERSITY OF CAMBRIDGE. 321 

portrayals of Saxon life by Charles Kingsley in his earnest, elo- 
quent stammer can ever forget them or think without affection 
of the professor of modern history of two decades ago ? His Shak- 
sperean collar, gold scarf-pin, and cutaway coat were not conven- 
tional, but who would have wished Kingsley of all men to ap- 
pear in a long frock coat and white cravat as any every-day par- 
son, travelling through life like a stick of black sealing-wax? 

Clare is a charming specimen of Caroline architecture. The 
stone first collected for its construction was taken by the Round- 
heads in the Civil War to repair the castle. The drop in the 
middle of Clare bridge is ascribed to the vigorous rejoicing of 
the society when one of their body was senior wrangler. 
Should another such distinction be gained by domus it is feared 
they will jump the bridge into the Cam. Latimer, in his time 
cross-bearer and preacher of the university, was once a fellow 
of Clare, when he declaimed vehemently against Luther. 
Trinity Hall was founded by a bishop of Norwich in 1350 for 
legal study ; previously the Ely monks had their Cambridge 
house here. The Elizabethan library, with bars across the 
books, many of which still retain marks of the chains which once 
secured them, is intact, but the rest of the college has been re- 
faced in the bad old days. However, a fine modern block re- 
places some buildings recently destroyed by fire. There is 
some fine plate, and the founder's cup is one of the oldest in 
England. Gardiner, Bishop of Winchester, remained master of 
Trinity Hall till his death. 

Gonville and Caius College, hard by, commonly called 
41 Keys," has the same advantages for medical as " the hall ' for 
legal studies, and the two houses are firm allies. Gonville 
founded it in 1348, but it was refounded two hundred years later 
by Dr. Caius, court physician to three of the Tudor sovereigns 
and one of the foremost men of his day. He had been professor 
by turns of theology, Greek, and physic at Padua and elsewhere 
in the south, and was nine times president of the Royal College 
of Physicians in London ; he it was who introduced practical 
anatomy into England. He largely enriched and adorned the 
college of which he was master, and his symbolic gateways of 
humility, virtue, and honor are interesting and instructive. He 
wisely left one side of the court open, " for fear the air should 
become foul," and was much in advance of his age, being charg- 
ed with Romanism and atheism, the bugbears of the period, for 
he had a " perverse stomach to the professors of the Gospel." 
Harvey, who died in 1657, at eighty, was a Caius man. 



322 THE TOWN AND UNIVERSITY OF CAMBRIDGE. [June, 

Unfortunately, space does not permit of a sufficient descrip- 
tion of Trinity, the finest college in the world. Henry VIIL 
founded it in 1546, fusing 1 together nine colleges and hostels, of 
which King's Hall and Michael House were the chief. The 
first court is over two acres in extent ; to the right is the chapel 
of Mary and Elizabeth, over two hundred feet long, richly deco- 
rated of late with glass and mural paintings of departed worthies, 
kings and monks, nobles and prelates, warriors and statesmen ; 
and it must be well for the students to have constantly before 
them these heroes, their ignorances, errors, failings forgotten in 
view of solid honesty and virtue which can never die. Without 
is the pavement up and down which Thackeray used to pace 
each morning, and opposite the tower where Byron " kept," not 
with his bear, as commonly supposed, for it was more suitably 
disposed in a stable. In the centre of the court is a fountain ; 
the leaden pipe which since the days of Edward III. had con- 
veyed the water from springs a mile off was replaced forty 
years ago. A vinous student, periodically " plucked ' for his 
degree, was several times sobered in these waters by his well- 
wishers, and thus retorted on his persecutors : " Possibly I may 
not be over-gifted, but no other man in Trinity has been in that 
fountain twice." The Master's Lodge contains many royal por- 
traits and has been occupied by almost every English monarch 
since the college was founded. A succession of distinguished 
men have presided here, and Dr. Butler, the present master, 
lately followed the example of a certain American president and 
wedded a damsel with not half his years ; but she had just dis- 
tinguished herself at Girton, and what a triumph for a blue 
maiden to wed a well-seasoned scholar ! " Accept a bishopric ! ' 
said Dr. Whewell indignantly ; " certainly not ; there are twenty- 
eight bishops, but only one Master of Trinity." The hall, as 
large as the Senate House, is gorgeous on occasion ; on Whitsun- 
day-two years ago we sat at the high table with a brilliant gath- 
ering, Oliver Wendell Holmes, on whom an honorary degree 
was about to be conferred, being the -principal guest. The 
choir, surpliced, in the gallery sang the grace and enlivened the 
feast by glees and madrigals. The kitchen, where a staff of 
eighty is employed, is a great sight ; the fire consumes a ton of 
coal daily, and before it lengthy spits, carrying scores of impaled 
capons and haunches, revolve appetizingly. The New Court, of 
the present century, is perhaps the brightest, but Neville's, or 
the Cloister Court, with its ample covered promenades, is the 
most imposing. The library occupies the western side, fronting 



1889.] THE TOWN AND UNIVERSITY OF CAMBRIDGE. 323 

the river, and the lovely Trinity gardens on either side. There 
are ninety thousand volumes and near two thousand manuscripts 
here, amongst others the original of the Paradise Lost, a Persian 
one of 1430 on the education of princes, with illustrations of 
hunting and polo, and many autograph letters e.g., the first 
written by Byron. Here stands his lovely statue by Thorwald- 
sen, which the authorities excluded from the Abbey of Westmin- 
ster. There is a Sarum Missal of 1500 on vellum, the finest ex- 
isting ; Newton's globe and telescope; all the coronation medals 
since Charles I. ; bank notes, one for the large sum of twopence ; 
coins, some over two thousand years old ; Anglo-Saxon imple- 
ments and ornaments, and numbers of other treasures. There is 
also Bishop's Hostel and the Master's Courts, two cold, stone, 
well-like quadrangles built by Dr. Whewell in memory of his 
wife, standing between the main entrance and Sidney. It is un- 
fortunate that the narrow site has so cramped their dimensions. 
There are sixty fellowships at Trinity, and seventy-four scholar- 
ships of one hundred pounds a year each. The distinguished 
members would fill a volume, but we may name Bacon, Newton, 
Dryden, Cowley, Byron, Macaulay, and Tennyson. 

John's, adjoining Trinity, is next in size and importance. In 
1135 Henry Frost founded here St. John's Austin Hospital, and 
scholars were added later ; the house dwindled till only half a 
dozen ill-conducted and prodigal brethren remained when it was 
dissolved. Lady Margaret Beaufort, Countess of Richmond and 
Derby, acting under the advice of her tutor and confessor, 
Fisher, Bishop of Rochester, left instructions and funds for the 
foundation of this college, but died soon after the accession of 
her grandson, Henry VIII , who promptly appropriated a great 
portion of her bequest. There are four fine courts, mainly of 
red brick, fortunately saved from refacing during the last cen- 
tury by lack of funds. The Tudor rose, Beaufort portcullis, 
and the daisy or " marguerite " of the foundress are constantly 
repeated in the buildings, and the St. John in the niche over the 
entrance, with viper issuing from his chalice, is very pleasing. 
In the library is a mass composed by Henry VIII., and Cran- 
mer's " great Bible " ?on vellum, with the imprimatur of Tun- 
stall, the Bishop of London, one of the first to condemn the ver- 
sion of Tyndale. Bishop Bonner put six copies into St. Paul's, 
London ; only two were printed on vellum, one for the king 
and one for Cromwell, his vicar-general, afterwards beheaded ; 
the latter, illustrated by Holbein, is the one at John's. The 
finest thing here is the chapel by Sir Gilbert Scott, completed 



324 THE TOWN AND UNIVERSITY OF CAMBRIDGE. [June, 

twenty years ago. It is of stone and very lofty, richly decked 
with statues and stained glass, one contributed by the under- 
graduates. The original chapel was pulled down and its site 
thrown into the first court, to its great advantage ; but the chapel 
which Fisher built for his own repose though, being beheaded 
for his good deeds, he never arrived there has been thrown into 
the new church. It is remarkable that four successive Cam- 
bridge chancellors, Fisher, Cromwell, Somerset, and Dudley, 
were executed. Axe-makers under the Tudors doubtless drove 
a roaring trade. 

We now reach the Sepulchre Church, one of the four round 
churches in England. It was built in 1101 by Pain Peverill, who 
had been standard-bearer to Robert, Duke of Normandy, in the 
Holy Land, doubtless in imitation of Eastern fanes. It is a tiny 
little temple, but has been carefully restored to the original Nor- 
man type by the Camden Society, for it had been modernized in 
Early English some six hundred years ago. Near it is the Early 
English Church of St. Clement, where Anne Boleyn's uncle was 
once churchwarden. The tower, built in 1821 from funds left by 
Cole, the antiquarian, contains his name as stipulated, but by put- 
. ting Deum before Cole the latter word is given a new significance. 

We must go down Jesus Lane by Sidney to visit Jesus, one 
of the most charming colleges at Cambridge. A fine old nun- 
nery, that of SS. Mary and Rhadegund, founded 1133, and en- 
larged by Malcolm IV. of Scotland, it must have been. How- 
ever, when four hundred years ago the nuns had dwindled to 
two, and they not over exemplary in their conduct, Bishop 
Alcock, of Ely, suppressed the house and founded thereon his 
college, and over the gateway his rebus, a cock on a globe (the 
world, the whole, all ; somewhat far-fetched), may be seen. 
Alcock pulled down half the nun's chapel, but the remainder, as 
restored by Pugin, is a charming church over seven hundred 
years old. In it is the tomb of a nun of one hundred years later : 
" Moribus ornata jacet hie bona Berta Rosata." Cranmer was a 
fellow here, but left to wed the pretty niece of the landlady of 
the Dolphin ; the poor girl died in childbirth after a year, and 
the future archbishop left the tavern and was welcomed back 
to Jesus. The fair, which Stephen granted to the nuns of St. 
Rhadegund, was kept up till the present century. There was 
also another noteworthy fair hereabouts, which John granted to 
the great Austin Priory of Barnwell, some remains of which still 
exist, notably the church, still used. This was another of Pain 
Peverill's foundations, and Richard II. held a parliament in the 



1889.] THE TOWN AND UNIVERSITY OF CAMBRIDGE. 325 

priory. The fair was held on the eve of St. Etheldreda, or 
Awdrey ; she died from a throat disease, a judgment of heaven on 
her former love of necklaces. Cheap necklets of ribbon and 
tinsel were sold at this fair in her honor ; so the word tawdry, 
from the saint's name. A mile further on one finds the little 
twelfth-century chapel where a leper hospital once stood. Here 
was held the celebrated Stourbridge fair, granted by John to 
the hospital. It was the greatest in Eastern England, being 
divided into streets, and as early as the reign of Athelstan Irish 
cloth merchants came to it, bringing their wares. 

We must now get back to Cambridge, and, crossing the 
bridge near John's, gain the site of the ancient town.. Here is 
Magdalen College, part of the Roman walls of Camboritum still 
surrounding its grounds. In 1337 Pope Benedict ordered that 
the Benedictine Abbeys should maintain five per cent, of their 
members at a university, and in 1428 the great monasteries of 
the Fens, Crowland, Ramsey, and others clubbed together to 
found this house for their members. It was at first called 
" Monk's Hostel," then " Buckingham College," from the Duke 
of Buckingham, so playfully decapitated by Richard III. At the 
suppression of monasteries it reverted to the crown, but was re- 
founded in 1542 ; the hall was built by the last Duke of Buck- 
ingham, duly beheaded like his father when his turn arrived. 
Here are some love letters from Henry VIII. to Anne Boleyn, 
beginning "Sweet darling," and ending, " with the hand that I 
would were thine." Down an inn-yard near this is Pythagoras 
school, a Norman manor-house, now used as a woodshed; the 
Dennys owned it from the Conquest. There is the ground-floor 
for cattle, and above the hall for meals and servants' dwelling, 
and two rooms for the master and his family. What state a " fine 
old English gentleman " maintained in those times! It used to 
be thought that this was the cradle of the university, but Mag- 
dalen is now thought to be the site of the hired barn where in 
I no the four French monks from Orleans daily lectured, riding 
in from the manor of Cottenham, seven miles distant, where Geof- 
frey, the Abbot of Crowland, had placed them for the purpose. 

" Within two generations of the Norman Conquest," says 
Charles Kingsley, "the French Abbot of Crowland sent French 
monks to open a school under the new French -donjon in the 
little Roman town of Grantebrigge ; whereby so does all earnest 
work grow and spread in this world infinitely and for ever St. 
Guthlac, by his canoe voyage into Crowland Island, became the 
spiritual father of Cambridge University." 

.CHARLES E. HODSON. 



326 "DAS EWIGE WEIBLICH" [June, 



"DAS EWIGE WEIBLICH." 

ONjthe 2 ist and following days of October last there was a 
Convocation of Catholics in London, as a Catholic journal of that 
city calls the meeting of the " Catholic Truth Society."' Five 
bishops were present, and, as the same paper says, " we were 
glad to see such ample opportunity afforded to the laity to ex- 
press their opinions," and that papers were not omitted from the 
ladies' point of view upon two of the questions debated. Miss 
Jackson's essay was entitled " Science among the Unscientific, 
or the Popularization of Science," as the work of the Catholic 
Truth Society; Lady Herbert's, the u Use of Fiction." We 
refer our readers to the journal above quoted for acquaint- 
ance with the views expressed by those excellent women, 
which to us at least seemed remarkably sensible and prac- 
.ical. The 'following incident may show how much we 
lose in missing the friendly criticism of that immense majority 
of our worshippers whom we condemn to be silent in the 
church. On Tuesday, at the conference, " a lady present 
privately informed one of the secretaries that if he would beg 
the clergy present to do all they could to get the Gospel read 
more distinctly on Sundays than it is sometimes she would at 
once give ten pounds to the Catholic Truth Society. It is un- 
necessary to say that a secretary was found to earn the 10, and 
the announcement was highly relished by clergy and laity 
alike " (Tablet, October 27, 1888). 

St. Paul forbids women to teach (i Tim. ii. 12) that is, in 
the church, as he is generally interpreted ; but women have all 
along in the history of Christianity been the first teachers of 
religion to their own children, and it is on them almost exclu- 
sively that the church of to-day, at least in our country, depends 
for the gratuitous imparting of religious instruction. Indeed, 
one may safely wager that it was so very near the beginning, 
and has been so all the ages since. 

St. Hilda, in England, governed monasteries of men as well 
as of women. The Order of Fontevrault, approved by Paschal 
II. in 1106 and 1113, was by its constitution subject to a woman 
head, although it comprised male as well as female communities, 
and included even priests among its members ; and the reason 
given by the holy founder was the imitation of Christ, who 



1889.] "DAS EWIGE WEIBLICH" 327 

dying, committed St. John to the care of the Blessed Virgin 
(Alzog, Church History, vol. ii. p. 696). 

St. Teresa, as we know, founded the reformed Carmelites, men 
as well as women. Her writings are held in great esteem, too, 
and the day may be approaching when she will wear the doc- 
tor's cap in the church of God, as several of her sex have worn 
it in the European universities, and wear it now in this 
country as well. 

That woman has her influence and usefulness in the church, 
therefore, there can be no doubt, no matter how much or how 
little prominence she is allowed. "I tell you," said a Protestant 
to me one day, " if it wasn't for the women, Christianity would 
have disappeared long ago. I know it is so in our churches, 
and I guess it's the same in yours.' 1 I could not refute his asser- 
tion, knowing, as I did, that on the average about three-fourths (?) 
of those who frequent the church services are women, and of the 
whole number of communions in the year the " devout sex ' 
scores nine-tenths. 

Does this prove that women are better than men, or that 
men will be as few and far between, as uncomfortable and ill at 
ease, in heaven as they are in the church ? It does not. It 
simply proves that the church's continued existence and en- 
durance are mainly owing to woman, and that man's judg- 
ment will be held on matters concerning that department of 
duty for which he has been formed and is specially responsible. 
It is no more anomalous that woman's province should be the 
preservation of religion and morality than that she should be, as 
she is, the guardian of the home. 

Dr. Brownson defended society for punishing the sin of un- 
chastity more severely in the woman than in the man, saying 
that this was her particular care, and she was to be held respon- 
sible, just as man is accountable for the public welfare, for the 
maintenance of the family, for business honesty and social order, 
although it may be and is often true that " the woman tempted ' 
him, and was the occasion of his disloyalty to duty and to God. 
In like manner the woman is made answerable for that other 
vitally important department in which the domestic virtues and 
the good of society are so deeply involved, even though the 
other sex be a partner in her guilt. 

But I shall be told the men saints would have preserved the 
church. I say that the saints were started on that road by their 
mothers, and I say, too, that every saint that is, every perfect 
man is half a woman. Mankind comprises the two sexes. 



328 " DAS E WIGE WEIBLICH. " [ J u ne, 

Some even imagine that " in the beginning " there was but one bi- 
sexual individual. At any rate it is true that he who shows only 
manly qualities only represents one-half the entire human, and 
she who is all heart and sentiment is an imperfect and partial 
type of humanity. Look at the men saints, and you will find the 
man's head and the woman's heart, too. Consider St. Paul, St. 
Augustine, St. Jerome, St. Francis of Sales. Run over the 
whole list. Then take up St. Catherine of Siena, St. Teresa, 
St. Hedwig. Think at last of the gentle heart of Jesus, and 
remember how Mary stood at the cross' foot. I am told that in 
the Irish language a " man and wife " is expressed by a " com- 
plete man," just as we talk about the " better half." 

"As unto the bow the cord is, 
So unto the man is woman ; 
Though she bends him, she obeys him, 
Though she draws him, yet she follows 
Useless each without the other.'' Hiawatha. 

The question is not, therefore, whether woman is useful, is 
needed in the church, but merely where it is expedient here and 
now to utilize still farther her devotion and ability. In London 
I saw women pew-openers who did very well indeed, probably 
better than men of the same social standing. In old times they 
had deaconesses to care for the female converts, dress them at 
baptism, etc., and perform those important duties towards their 
own sex and ours which a priest cannot decently nor even prop- 
erly fulfil. No priestly residence or convent, as a rule, is neat 
anc) clean if the woman's hand have not touched it; no patient is 
properly cared for, be he priest or layman, unless the hand of a 
woman smoothes his pillow. No Sunday-school nor day-school 
for boys under fourteen is (practically) as well taught by men as 
it is by women. I appeal to general experience. 

St. Paul's decision must be interpreted, therefore, in the light 
of our nineteenth-century experience and with proper regard 
to the present elevated condition of a sex that in his day was 
perhaps in a state of greater or less legal, social, and ecclesiasti- 
cal inferiority. The word of God had not yet worked its effect,, 
the world had not yet learned that in Christ there is " neither 
male nor female," just as there is " neither bond nor free ' (Gal- 
atians iii. 28). 

Woman is advancing. Some time ago certain Englishwo- 
men joining the Primrose League were rebuked by the Bishop 
of Nottingham. One of them answered his strictures and de- 
fended her conduct in the columns of the press, nor did that no- 



1889.] " DAS EVVIGE WEIBLICH" 329 

ble representative of the magnificent episcopate of England think 
it beneath him to reply and in those same columns to maintain 
his position. Finally the case went to Rome and was decided in 
favor of the women. Our own " Sorosis ' was so pleased with 
this that they wrote a letter of acknowledgment to Pope Leo r 
beginning (in their republican innocence) by calling His Holiness- 
" Reverend Sir" 

Woman is advancing. In the State of New York there have 
been women on the Board of Charities for some years, no doubt 
to the vast advantage of the poor. What a marvel, indeed, when 
you think of it, that the heart of mankind, represented by wo- 
man, was until quite lately excluded from that department 
which most needed the heart that is, from the care of the poor 
and weak ! What a wonder, ( when you reflect on it, that there 
are prison boards yet without a woman on them, although so 
many unfortunate women are in the prisons ! What a surprise,, 
when you look into it, that while more than half the school-chil- 
dren of New York are of the female sex, and about ninety-five 
per cent, of the teachers, yet it is only a year or two since 
women were admitted to the Board of Education ! It is note- 
worthy that a Catholic mayor made the appointment. 

Woman is advancing, taking degrees in medicine and even in 
law, while preachers of the sex are not unknown. An American 
girl took the doctor's cap lately in Paris with great distinction, 
and our convent schools will probably soon send on candidates, 
for they are rapidly abandoning the old " 32-hand " piano exhibi- 
tion which twenty years ago represented most of the work a 
graduate had gone over. 

Leo XIII. seems to favor the advance of woman, and is about 
to publish a brief instituting an order of knighthood (no less), to- 
be called the " Matrons of the Holy Sepulchre," and to be com- 
posed of the women who will have deserved well of the Holy 
See. 

Let us leave the sacerdotal office out of the question for the 
present, as the Catholic priesthood is a thing quite supernatural 
and apart, and ask the question, Why is it that if God in na- 
ture places a woman with a man at the head of each family, there 
should not be a woman, too, with the man at the head of every 
institution which includes within it members of each sex? Why 
should not women be found in part control of every school, fac- 
tory, prison, hospital, municipality, and state? Why, indeed ^ 
The more we repeat the question the harder it becomes to an- 
swer. 



33 " DAS EWIGE WEIBLICH" [June, 

I know that man seems to be the higher animal. He excels 
in beauty, in eloquence, in music, in poetry, in art, in architec- 
ture, nay, even in dress-making and in cooking (the greatest wo- 
man's college in the country has men for its two superior cooks, 
and its finest graduation dresses are designed and made by men) ; 
but, for all that, man needs woman's counsel, not only for the pro- 
per training of children, but also for the government and care of 
one-half of the inmates of every institution, as well as of the citi- 
zens in general. It is absurd to govern society by the head alone ; 
the heart is necessary, nay, perhaps often more so than the head ; 
but the heart is woman's specialty ; therefore it is absurd to gov- 
ern society without woman's having a share in the administra- 
tion. 

They say that a queen's government is better than that of a 
king for the reason that she advises with chosen men, while he 
rules alone. But if this abstract reasoning does not convince 
you, look at the institutions founded, built, and carried on by wo- 
men the Foundling Asylum, for instance, and the various other 
benevolent houses in New York ; the four hundred refuges for 
the aged established all over the world during a period of only 
fifty years by those martyrs of Christ's love, the Little Sisters of 
the Poor. 

However, you may answer: Man has some heart too, and 
can dispense with woman. Very well; so has woman some head. 
Does this prove that she can do without man ? 

[The conclusion I wish to draw is that woman should be as- 
sociated with man in the management of society generally.] 

But you will say, Surely you don't want her to enter the po- 
iitical department. 

I think that women who own property and pay taxes have a 
natural (naturally, reasonably) right to vote. So widows with 
minor children. The interests of such citizens are so nearly con- 
cerned that it is not only their right but their duty to devote 
some thought to public affairs ; and as every one as a rule looks 
out for himself and tries to make his own burden as light as pos- 
sible, they and those dependent on them will inevitably suffer 
unless they take positive part in politics, to the extent at least of 
preventing their neighbor shifting his taxes onto them. For the 
same reason married women have a natural right to vote for 
school officers. Don't we all know that it is the mother who se- 
lects the school and the church too, and that the father " leaves 
it all to the mother," as he says in self-excuse? 

Indeed, a slight following up of this argument would give the 



1889.] "DAS EWIGE WEIBLICH." 331 

* 

result that women should vote for prison officials, almshouse- 
keepers, judges, supervisors in fact, for all public officers, for 
governors, senators, and presidential electors. Have not women 
an interest in the welfare of the country in general as great as 
that of men ? Have they not a personal concern in all the insti- 
tutions for the administration of justice, prevention and correc- 
tion of crime, care of sickness and old age, licensing of saloons, 
gambling-houses, and other nameless establishments? 
But men can take care of all these things. 

(1) This argument would prove that we don't need the suf- 
frage at all, because a monarch or an aristocracy could attend to 
our government for us. Indeed, I feel quite sure that the pres- 
ent office-holders are of opinion that it would be much better to 
let them remain in their places, and let the people give them- 
selves no more concern about matters foreign or domestic have 
no more elections, in fact. 

(2) I deny that men can judge and decide competently regard- 
ing matters that concern women, or even children ; can fairly es- 
timate their guilt when arraigned for crime ; can enact suitable 
rules for their discipline in prison or at school. 

But you will draw woman out of her sphere. 

(1) The question is as to the due extent of woman's sphere. 
Society now recognizes a great enlargement in it. In old times, 
indeed until very recently, a man and his wife were one only per- 
son before the law, to the extent that not only was no deed of 
hers valid without her husband's assent, but practically she could 
hold no property at all in her private right, and had no defence 
against a partner who might be a spendthrift or a drunkard. 
This has all been changed. 

Many States permit women to vote either on certain issues or 
on every question, and in New York the women are not only 
represented on tHe Boards of Charities and of Education, but 
there is now a project of law enabling the governor to appoint 
eight women inspectors of factories. Don't you think most of 
this change is in the right direction? 

(2) I admit that woman's sphere is the home, but this regards 
married women chiefly. Besides, it is precisely because woman 
must guard her home that I claim for her the right to vote at 
least on matters intrinsically, or closely though extrinsically, 
connected with that home, such, for instance, as questions of 
house taxation, public cleanliness, school affairs, licensing of sa- 
loons, etc. 

(3) The distinction between the sexes from a mental and moral 



33 2 " DAS EWIGE WEIBLICH" [June, 

point of view is not so marked and extreme but that frequently 
(if I may be allowed a saying less elegant than forcible) "the 
gray mare is the better horse." 

Woman must often leave her " sphere,'' either because she is a 
widow, or otherwise thrown on her own resources, or because she 
is indeed the/' better half" of the matrimonial firm, and has a 
husband who cannot or who will not do his duty as a citizen. 
There are manly women in a good sense of the epithet, as there 
are womanly men, to use the term as the Indians do when they 
call a warrior a " woman." These women can and must assume 
the position vacated by the husband, and often do so nobly, and 
without falling from the respect peculiarly due their sex. Why 
should not such women's right to vote be acknowledged? Let 
us trust the instincts of sex. When the husband does his duty 
his wife will be delighted to honor him as the stronger vessel, 
and, busying herself with domestic matters, will gladly leave 
others to him, not omitting, however, to influence his vote as far as 
her often superior insight enables her to do. 

(4) It is ever) r man's duty to vote, a duty that presses at 
times more seriously than at others. Many men neglect this 
duty almost entirely, to the injury of society and of their own 
souls. Why not let the women with virile souls make up by 
their efforts as citizens for the lazy cowardice of those men? 

(5) I find by experience that society is, as a rule, purer and 
better where men and women live, move, and work together. 
Men, especially, degenerate, and in fact lose all civilization, 
where the gentle, refining influence of woman is wanting. Don't 
you think that politics would lose most of that which now makes 
it repulsive to many men, even, if their wives took some share in 
it ? See the effect of woman's presence on the German beer- 
garden, and contrast it with those " bars'' in which no woman is 
ever seen. Is it not a woman's sphere to soften the wild, rough 
ways of society, as far, at least, as she may without actual detri- 
ment to her special duties ? 

The question is often asked : Should woman be allowed to 
vote? It seems to me it ought to be put: Should women 
vote ? Because I never understood on what solid ground 
society could prevent women voting. It seems to me that not 
only the head of every family has a right to vote, but -ev^ry 
individual also that is emancipated from paternal control, and is 
of an age declared sufficient, for it is evident some limit as to 
age must be fixed by positive law. But I do not see any reason 
why a woman of legal age should not be acknowledged to have 



1889.] " DAS EWIGE WEIBLICH" 333 

the same right as a man in this matter. As to the rough, disre- 
putable, often filthy surroundings of the ballot-box, these can 
easily be remedied by hiring a suitable hall, keeping proper dis- 
cipline, and adopting the so-called Australian System. Many 
men of intelligence and refinement, whose influence is very much 
needed in our elections, are kept away from the polls by their 
present objectionable surroundings, and will do their share for 
good government if things are improved. And the presence of 
women will keep the polls clean once they are made so. 

Let them vote, then, if they will. There is something uncon- 
stitutional and un-American in the very thought of preventing 
them from doing so, while, not to speak of the mothers, the great 
army of teachers who give our boys their first ideas of civil gov- 
ernment is composed mainly of women. 

To quote once more the journal already mentioned : 

"We know no reason, considering sex only, why women should not 
vote. Lord Salisbury, the Tory leader, has pronounced for woman suffrage. 
There is a majority of the House of Commons in favor of it, so it will pro- 
bably come this Parliament. The Tories are supposed to be always whin- 
ing for a yesterday, but they will break new ground when public moral- 
ity and social order require this. We trust the bill will provide that no 
person shall be penalized and kept outside the pale of the constitution on ac- 
count of sex. As it is, if the property, in virtue of which the vote is 
claimed, stands in the name of the wife, she will vote ; if in the name of the 
husband, he will vote. This will be merely carrying out logically the prin- 
ciples of the Married Women's Property Act, which has at last so effectual- 
ly safe-guarded the property of a wife against the fingers of her husband. 
Meanwhile, we notice that Signer Crispi has just declared against female 
suffrage for Italy. This is as it should be. It would be a serious pity if 
this great onward step in the progress of mankind were to be tried rashly by 
any novices in freedom " (Tablet, London, December 8, i! 



The words of the English prime minister were addressed to 
the members of the Primrose League, to which allusion has been 
made above, and are to the effect that " the influence of women 
is likely to weigh in a direction which in an age so material as 
ours is exceedingly valuable namely, in the direction of morality 
and religion as not only representing a fact in the past, but as 
enshrining a policy for the future " ; and he " earnestly hoped 
that the day is not far distant when women will bear their share 
in voting for members in the political world, and in determining 
the policy of the country." 

There appears to be a great deal of sound sense in all this. 
Is England going to lead us in taking this " great onward step in 

the progress of mankind " ? 

EDW. McSwEENY, D,D. 



334 A MARSH-MARIGOLD. [June, 



A MARSH-MARIGOLD. 

SEDGE and rushes everywhere a land of sedge and rushes. 
A wild stretch of bog country, whose glimmering pools caught 
the blue of the sky ; yellow flag-lilies, tall amid their long leaves; 
the sea within hearing breaking on a treacherous ridge of 
hidden rock ; the sea-gulls wheeling and crying ; all the place 
golden with June light, and backed by a cone-shaped mountain, 
whose eastern side was always dark once the sun rose high in 
the heavens. An uncertain place, this bog-land, where one 
might put his foot on a plot of velvety green or brown, to sink 
ankle-deep in water. 

That, however, was a mistake for a chance visitor to make. 
Lance, otherwise Launcelot, Armstrong knew the place well ; it 
was his fourth season to come shooting here, and the red-and- 
white cattle themselves did not know better how to keep to the 
solid causeways which traversed the bog than he did. He had 
discovered this corner of the world almost by accident. The 
first year he had come with his chum, Jim Revere, and they had 
been lodged royally by the postmistress of Raheen, Mrs. 
Murphy, over whose thatched cottage the roses clambered with 
the yellow jessamine and the blue passion-flower. Their bed- 
rooms were up in the roof, and in the elm outside a thrush had 
reared her brood. The fare their hostess gave them was, if the 
truth must be told, a little monotonous, but hungry young men 
coming home from a long day's fishing or shooting were not 
likely to quarrel with golden and white eggs on rosy bacon, 
with home-made bread and sweet, fresh butter, with tea and 
cream, and honey from the hives outside the window. Jim 
Revere was a busy man now, having taken upon himself the 
burden of a wife, so he only returned here at intervals, running 
down for a day and a night sometimes to keep his friend com- 
pany in Arcadia. 

He knew more about Lance Armstrong than any one else 
did. Perhaps he was the only one who knew of the young 
man's strange and unreasonable discontent with his lot. To be 
the nephew of a bachelor uncle with ,10,000 a year and an 
estate is not a bad thing, and Lance Armstrong had other 
advantages to boot. He was a big, brown young man, with 
honest gray eyes and a face full of energy and capacity. He 
was very popular in society, liked immensely by men, as he had 



1889.] A MARSH-MARIGOLD. 335 

been by his fellows at school and college, and also by women, at 
least by those whose liking was worth having. He himself had 
a very kindly heart to all God's creatures ; children and dogs 
instinctively made friends with him ; servants adored him ; even 
his gouty old uncle, Sir Andrew, was a little less irate with him 
than with other people. That may have been for a certain 
tender considerateness he had for old or ailing people, being 
part of his chivalry to the weak and delicate. I have said nearly 
all women liked him ; he was not very much of a drawing-room 
man, and was scarcely ever known to say a gallant thing, but 
any woman who was capable of feeling could not but be con- 
scious of the honor he rendered her sex. He had strange and 
unfashionable views about women ; he was as deferential to a 
faded spinster or a dowager as to the young beauty of the 
season ; and for men who spoke lightly of women or trifled with 
them he had a great-hearted contempt. "Why, my God !" he 
said one time, hearing of a man who had played fast-and-loose 
with a woman, " I would as soon hurt a child." And though the 
men who heard him smiled, they did not like him the less for it. 

Yet he was discontented. A physiognomist would have told 
you why. With his brawny frame and his brave heart, his 
clear brain and his large, capable hands, Lance Armstrong was 
cut out for one of the pioneers of the world ; he should have 
been opening new countries and exploring pathless wastes ; 
making roads and laying down railways where the white foot 
had never trodden before ; and here he was, living in inglorious 
ease and letting all his faculties run to rust. He had gone 
through the form of being called to the bar, which he need not 
have done, but it was some outlet for his superabundant ener- 
gies. And he had learned a good deal of engineering and 
kindred subjects. 

So the years had gone, and he was now twenty-eight, four 
years older than when he had first seen Sheila Donovan leisurely 
following her father's cows home from the bog, with a book under 
her arm and Trusty, the sheep-dog, by her side, for the cows 
needed none to drive them home for the milking. She was a 
slender child of sixteen then, in straight dresses and a pinafore, 
with heavy boots, and a hideous, brown holland sunshade obscur- 
ing her pretty head. Lance, coming down the causeway, had 
stopped to ask her some question ; under the tilted sun bonnet 
he could only see a pretty white chin and a red mouth, but as 
she looked up to answer him she showed him the bluest pair of 
eyes he had ever seen. " By Jove! " he said to himself " what 

VOL. XLIX, 22 



33^ A MARSH-MARIGOLD. [June, 

blue eyes the child has !' She answered him intelligently, and 
with a certain grave self-possession which no little lady could 
have bettered, and then went on her way. After that who shall 
say how the unequal friendship grew ? only every day both were 
in the bog-lands, the only human creatures who were there, 
where the loneliness was made more profound by the cry of the 
curlew and the pipe of the plover. It somehow seemed quite 
natural that when he crossed the little cowherd's path he should 
stop to speak to her. Then an interest sprang up, dating, per- 
haps, from the day he took the tattered volume from under her 
arm to find it was poetry, of all things in the world. She did 
not confine her reading to that ; she had some old-fashioned 
romances and books of travel very saw-dust on which to feed 
the eager brain and imagination, but colored, perhaps, by her 
own thoughts. She went to school to the nuns every day, and 
only came of afternoons to the bog. They had taught her to 
read and write and sew, and from association with them she had 
no doubt acquired that manner like a little lady's which had sur- 
prised him so much. Having found out this taste of hers for 
reading, he good-naturedly ransacked his store at his lodgings 
mainly engineering books and treatises on the physical sciences, 
with the merest sprinkling of more entertaining literature. He 
selected a few books for her from those, rejecting some with a 
certain simple conscientiousness ; he was as careful for this pea- 
sant child as if sh e were his own little sister. Then on his next run 
up to Dublin he provided himself with a larger assortment, and 
when she had read them, devouring them with passionate delight 
and eagerness, they discussed .them together. Soon he found his 
way to the farm-house, and came to be received there on the 
same footing of respectful friendship as that which the little 
girl gravely accorded him. 

The house was more picturesque than Irish farm-houses 
usually are. It was low and thatched, with dark little rooms, 
but a noble kitchen. Outside there was an orchard at one side 
of the house, with a sanded path running by the windows; and 
monthly-rose bushes, bearing their fragrant burden all the year, 
grew against the white wall. The other side of the house looked 
into, the farm-yard, not a model of tidiness by any means, but pic- 
turesque with its warm, golden stacks against old elm and beech- 
trees, and its confusion of wandering kine and pigs and poultry. 
Tom D )iiovan Armstrong found to be as interesting as his 
daughter, a splendid old fellow endowed with that nobility 
which somehow seems not unfit for one who has lived all his 



1889.] A MARSH-MARIGOLD. 337 



days face to face with nature. He was a big, burly old man, 
with a beautifully clear-cut face and large blue eyes ; such a face 
could scarcely have belonged to a peasant of any other country 
in the world ; only be it remembered, that here in Ireland it is 
the genuine old Celtic blood which runs in the veins of the 
peasantry. Your ploughman may be the descendant of kings, 
while your lord of the manor is very probably the son of a line 
of shop-keepers. 

However, Tom Donovan's face was exceptional as the man 
was exceptional. His wide brows spoke truly of the clear sense 
behind them. He had used it well, for, despite all difficulties, he 
was far more solvent than his brother-farmers ; not wealthy, 
though ; that would be too much to expect of an Irish farmer. 
He had one ad vantage over his fellows. Mr. Munroe, the Scotch 
agent on the estate, was himself an enthusiastic farmer, and not 
a bad fellow, despite his hard-headedness, and in Tom Donovan 
he found the one Irish farmer of his experience who had any 
idea of new methods, and was sufficiently in touch with the 
times to use them. Your farmer is a person of slow growth 
and little imagination, and very distrustful of new things, so 
that it happens that farming even in its most advanced shape 
has as yet scarcely emerged from the night of barbarism. But 
Tom Donovan's revolutionary tendencies made a friend of the 
agent for him, and he got a good deal of advice and assistance 
from him, and he read the new agricultural treatises and ma- 
nured his land, and spent his hard-earned money in the purchase 
of the best implements and the best seed, till, as he said himself, 
there wasn't a bonnier farm to be found in Ireland, let alone 
England, for Tom had a poor opinion of English soil. He was 
perhaps a little too advanced for his wife, a ruddy, comfortable, 
bustling house-mother, with none of that distinctiveness from 
her class which marked the father and daughter. However, she 
was an excellent farmer's wife, and made the goldenest butter 
in the count)*, while she was an authority on all that relates to 
pigs and poultry, calf-rearing and churning, though in a dif- 
ficulty she was not averse to calling in the aid of " the fairy- 
man ' with his magic spells, a person for whom Tom had the 
profoundest contempt. 

These made up the component parts of the household in 
which, as the summers went by, Lance Armstrong found himself 
year after year more warmly regarded. He would sit in the 
long summer evenings out-of-doors with the farmer, both men 
pulling at their pipes, and the elder pouring out stories with 



338 A MARSH-MARIGOLD. [June, 

which his mind seemed endlessly supplied ; now the old bardic 
stories, again some tragic tale of the Irish Rebellion, which in 
those hills above had fought out its death-struggle. Or it 
would be by the warm hearthstone in winter, with the turf fire 
smouldering, its darkness lit here and there by a little train of 
red light. And afterwards Armstrong was not too proud to 
share the family supper of bacon and eggs and floury potatoes, 
with creamy milk, and a little whiskey and water for the men. 
Indeed, no thought of pride ever entered into his intercourse 
with the Donovans. He grew to have a very warm affection 
for the old man, and a great belief in his wisdom a simple wis- 
dom which sprang as much from single honesty of intention 
as from clearness of mind. Indeed, very difficult problems of 
life and conduct would this young university man propound to 
the old farmer, and he seldom failed to find light from a nature 
which had no complexities. 

As for Sheila, Mr. Armstrong came to be identified to her 
with all the pleasant things of her growing girlhood. Associa- 
tion with a gentleman, a gentleman at heart as well as out- 
wardly, did much to ripen the work the nuns had begun. And 
it was easy for little Sheila to be a lady. The daughter and 
only child of a man whom nature had made gentle, and of a wo- 
man who was honest and good and who would not let the 
winds of heaven blow too roughly on her nestling, the child had 
known little but gentlehood in as much of her life as was not 
solitary. From Lance Armstrong came the contents of the 
well-filled, book-shelves in her bedroom in the sloping thatch ; 
her writing-desk was his present on one of her birthdays ; the 
photographs and pictures which made her retreat like a lady's 
room he had brought her from time to time. Her parents had 
no misgiving at all about the friendship, nor had Father Matt, 
the parish priest who had christened her, and knew every 
thought of her innocent heart. Armstrong was able nearly al- 
ways to impress his own honesty upon the minds of others, he 
was so trustworthy. 

Sheila was not spoiled for her own life by all this. She had 
grown into a tall, handsome girl with a clear skin and a pro- 
fusion of silky yellow hair, which she wore coiled into ropes at 
the back of her head ; she had a sweet, red-lipped mouth, and a 
mouthful of small, milky teeth which gave her an innocent, 
babyish look when she smiled ; her eyes had never lost their 
convolvulus-blue, and were as candid as a child's eyes. Alto- 
gether she was as fresh and sweet as May, and her sunny temper 



1889.] A MARSH-MARIGOLD. 339 

suited her looks. Perhaps it was the strong vein of common 
sense inherited from her mother which kept her from growing 
above the level of her everyday life. Because she read Shaks- 
pere and Tennyson was no reason why she should not milk a 
cow, and she superintended the morning and evening milking, 
and looked after the churning and made the butter. If she 
were the veriest coquette she could not have chosen to look to 
better advantage than she did when sometimes Lance Arm- 
strong came in to beg for a drink of fresh buttermilk, to find her 
in her lilac print, fresh and fair as the morning, lifting with her 
beautiful, bare young arms the golden butter from the foamy 
milk. But she had no coquetries and no consciousness. When 
the weeks of Mr. Armstrong's summer visit were over she felt 
a little lonely and out of sorts, but scarcely more than her father 
did ; they all missed him, even to Trusty, who would run bark- 
ing a joyous welcome to the door when a footstep sounded far 
off, only to be disappointed. And it was a real disappointment 
to them all that summer. Mr. Armstrong suddenly made up his 
mind to a walking tour in Germany instead of his annual visit 
to Raheen ; only he dropped in on them one golden August day, 
and made up by staying till the days were getting cold. But at 
.all times Sheila made the sunshine of the house, as Tom said in 
tender compliment. The flowers were not gone, nor the sum- 
mer sun, and the lark had not ceased to sing, while there was her 
bright head and face flashing from room to room, and her high 
young voice ringing as she sang at her work. 

This year it was "the sweet o' the year* when their friend 
came with delightful unexpectedness, for he had not written for 
some time. It was early June, and the hawthorn hedges were 
white with bloom and the fields all golden and white with but- 
tercups and daisies. The birds were singing as he emerged 
from the bog-land into a leafy lane, and the air was full of that 
penetrating fragrance which comes for just the halcyon time 
when spring and summer meet. The farm-house was bathed in 
a golden quiet when he reached it, with Trusty at the house 
door asleep in the sun, and the pigeons strutting about, and the 
sleepy fowl uttering that querulous cry which seems to me to 
suggest summer afternoon, as the corn-crake's croak suggests 
summer night, more intimately than any other sound. The red- 
tiled kitchen had its glowing fire despite warm weather, for Mrs. 
Donovan was ironing, with something less than her usual alacrity 
be it confessed. She put down the iron and raised her hands at 
sight of the welcome visitor. 



340 A MARSH-MARIGOLD. [June r 

" Glory be to God ! Mr. Lance," she said, " and is it .yourself? 
Sure it's Tom will be delighted. He's away at the fair with a 
couple of springers, but sure he'll be back in time to see you." 

In all her excitement the good woman did not fail to notice a 
certain harassed look which was new to Lance's face, but with 
the innate Irish good-breeding she did not comment upon it. 

" Sheila's out in the orchard," she went on ; " 'tis she'll be re- 
joiced out and out. Wait a minute till I send young Ned for her." 

But Lance would not hear of a messenger, he would go him- 
self ; and the good woman was not altogether sorry, for there 
was the tea to be got ready, with the addition of such dainties as 
the presence of so welcome a guest suggested. 

Sheila in the orchard, amid light and shadow from the apple- 
boughs, sprang up joyously when she saw him coming, with a lit- 
tle happy cry, and the fires of gladness coming and going in her 
pure cheeks. She caught at his two hands in frank delight, and 
stood facing him, too pleased to speak. He was as glad as she 
was, and the troubled look had fled from his face before the sun- 
shine of her smile. They sat them down on the little stone seat 
ringing the apple-tree, amid the debris of household linen Sheila 
had been mending, or dreaming over, as that knowing-eyed 
blackbird on the apple-bough could have told. For a little while 
question and answer followed each other swiftly ; then there 
came a pause, and Armstrong spoke. 

" I have been troubled, little one," he said, " and am still 
troubled. My uncle has been staying at Cheltenham, and has 
found a wife for me ; so he says. She is an English lady, an heir- 
ess, and a fashionable belle. I have not seen her, but I have no 
doubt she would suit me as ill as I should suit her. Of course 
she knows nothing of this, and I have no reason to suppose I 
should be an acceptable suitor, but the old man has had her 
invited to stay at my aunt's house, where she comes shortly, and 
insists that I shall try my luck. We have had hot words about 
it, and he even threatens me with disinheritance if I refuse to 
obey. I do not know what to do, for in his way he has been 
good to me." 

Sheila had gone a little white and the sparkle had died out of 
her face. She tried to answer him, but somehow the words 
would not come. Looking at her a new light came to him, a 
light for both their lives, as it seemed. 

" Dear," he said again, as wistfully and tenderly as if he were 
speaking to a child to him, despite her strong, fair young wo- 
manhood, she was like a child " dear, what if you and I were to 



1889.] A MARSH-MARIGOLD. 341 

care for each other and defy the world? I am young and strong, 
and well able to fight the world for myself and my wife. Dear, 
will you give yourself to me?" 

The desire for her seemed to come with his words, words he 
never thought to have uttered. Till she lifted her eyes and he 
saw love in them he had never dreamed of loving her, but per- 
haps it had lain in both hearts unsuspected all the time. Cer- 
tainly he felt as ardent as any lover might. She did not answer 
him, but with one swift, glad, incredulous look hid her face 
against his arm, and kept it there. He waited patiently till she 
should look up ; once he would have put his arm about her, but 
she clung to her old position, as if she were frightened. At last 
she looked at him, and her wide eyes under their innocent lids had 
pain and courage in their gaze. She spoke almost in a whisper. 

" You are good to love me," she said, " and if it will not hurt 
you I am very glad. But oh ! you put too much upon me. I am 
an ignorant, untried girl, and you ask me to accept this sacrifice 
for my sake. Oh ! I could not do it. How do I know that after- 
wards I should satisfy you? I am not of your world, and some 
day you might think I had cost you too much. You must go 
away and forget that you have said wild things, and Sheila Dono- 
van will never remind you of them." 

He laughed a pleasant laugh of gladness and incredulity. 

" Why, my love," he said, " this is folly. The only answer of 
yours which could send me away would be if you were to say, 
' Mr. Armstrong, I do not love you/ but you will not say that ; 
you will say instead, " 1 love you, Lance,' will you not, my dear 
one? And you will trust your life to me?" 

He had his strong arms around her, but she drew back from 
his embrace and pushed him away from her with her two hands 
against his breast. 

u I cannot say it," she said ; " how do I know ? It is all far 
too sudden. You must go away from me, and leave me free as 
I leave you free. I think you will marry this lady your uncle 
has chosen for you. It would be far better." 

All his protestations could not move her from this. If he 
was strong, she was stronger, and she forced him to her will. 
In the end he was almost angry, but he could do nothing only 
accept his sentence of banishment. Then Tom arrived on the 
scene inopportunely, and Lance had the last word. 

" Very well, then," he said, " but this is not final. I will 
leave this to-morrow morning, but I will come at Christmas for 
my answer. Till then I will not try to communicate with you ; 



342 A MARSH-MARIGOLD. [June, 

six months' silence and absence will test both of us sufficiently. 
May I come at Christmas ? ' 

"You may come," she said, "but remember I shall not look 
for you." 



It was only when he had gone that Sheila realized her full 
loneliness. There were the endless months of the summer to be 
gone through, the lonely long evenings, when the wash of the 
sea in the distance and the flood of pale evening sunshine on the 
fields made one long so hopelessly for dear human companion- 
ship. Sheila had said truly that she should not expect him to 
return ; by some subtle feminine intuition she had recognized 
that his wooing was due to a momentary impulse ; sometimes 
she said to herself, with burning cheeks, that it was only because 
he had discovered her love. At such times she would turn sud- 
denly angry against him, a woman's mood towards a man she 
loves well, a strange resentment against him who takes so much 
from her ; but this would pass and be succeeded by a hopeless 
longing for him, and an aching doubt of the wisdom of what she 
had done. She felt sometimes that she could complete his life 
as no other woman could ; she knew that God had given her 
good gifts, and that in ^verything except this poor accident of 
birth she was .his equal, yet she had sent him away. Such 
thoughts tortured her to exhaustion, till she was content to sit 
in the twilight, in that sad summer time when the birds have 
ceased to sing and the world is parched, and let her sad thoughts 
go flying away, her sad eyes following them, to the city where he 
was. Then the nights were so hot and breathless, when one lay 
awake looking through the thick dark, and thinking, thinking, 
and the scent of the woodbine seemed too heavy and sweet. 
After such a night Sheila would rise unrefreshed, so it was no 
wonder that presently her roses began to fade. 

Tom was not too busy with his harvest to notice this, and 
how her step was not so light, and she had left off singing. He 
spoke to the mother about it, but the good woman was not 
alarmed ; girls were full of whims and fancies, she said, and it 
was better not to mind. But she took some of the daughter's 
duties upon her own shoulders, and began to make up little 
dainty things to tempt her failing appetite, all of which Sheila 
noticed with a dumb, passionate gratitude. Then Tom came to 
her one evening as she stood listlessly in the garden, which was 
beginning to be strewn with golden leaves. He looked at her 
wistfully as she stood plucking a leaf to pieces ; he did not know 



1889.] A MARSH-MARIGOLD. 343 

how to approach his subject. He had a proposal to make, and 
at last he came out with it. The mother and he had been think- 
ing that she might like a change ; the country was but dreary at 
this time of year, and they had a little money to spare, and 
wouldn't she like to have a few weeks with her Aunt Maria in 
Dublin, and have some gayeties before the winter closed in on 
them ? All this with much beating about the bush, for Tom 
wanted to be very delicate with his little girl. He was not pre- 
pared, however, for the effect of his proposal. Sheila suddenly 
burst out crying and flung her arms about his neck. 

" You darling," she said, "you darling! No, I won't go to 
Aunt Maria's ; I am never so well off anywhere as with you and 
the darling mother. I have been wicked and selfish, but that is 
all done with." And a great many other sweet, inarticulate 
things she said, with her wet face against his white hair. 

She did pluck up after that, and the old couple were com- 
forted. And one day there came to the farm a pretty walnut- 
wood piano which Tom had expended some of his savings on for 
his pet. He did not tell her who had executed his commission, 
and indeed it was a beautiful piano and wonderfully cheap, and 
it made Sheila quite happy for the time. As she sat at it, rattling 
out "Planxty Kelly," or " The Wind that Shakes the Barley," 
or " Miss McLeod's Reel," for her father's delight, the old man 
congratulated himself upon the happy thought of writing to Mr. 
Lance to ask him to select a piano, and enjoyed the rollicking 
music to his heart's content. 

Sheila was doing her best for his sake .and her mother's to 
live down her trouble. She took to working with feverish en- 
ergy, and in the intervals when household work was forbidden 
she took up studies laid aside German, of which Lance had 
taught her something, and her music, long neglected in the 
absence of a piano anything so that she need not sit and dream. 
By degrees something of her old brightness came back to her. 
Even a little delicate flower of hope began to bud in her heart. 
What day of the wet autumn days it first put forth its untimely 
head she knew not ; she only knew it came there uninvited, and 
flourished despite her lack of encouragement. She was afraid of 
it, afraid of the sweetness of it which haunted her through the 
cold weather, giving her little glad, unreasonable thrills of hope 
when Christmas was mentioned casually, and she sat with her 
eyes down on the stockings she was darning and tried to chain 
her eager young thoughts to them. 

No word came of Lance at all through the winter, no word even 



344 A MARSH-MARIGOLD. 

to Tom. It was the absence of news made Sheila hope ; if he were 
married, if he were like to be, they certainly would have heard. So 
the days went by uneventfully. She had her moods of sadness and 
discouragement, too, days when the November woods were sod- 
den and hopeless, and the ragged chrysanthemums flapped their 
drenched heads against the window-pane, and it seemed to her 
that life was over for her as well as for those inanimate things. 
She was slow to give herself up to sweetness ; there were days 
when she almost convinced herself that if he came again she 
must again send him from her; you see, pride and consciousness,, 
both very strong in her, were taking sides against her poor little 
heart. So, in such alternations of feeling, the time went round to- 
Christmas. 

A snowy Christmas it proved to be not a lovely Christmas, 
with the snow an accomplished fact and frosty skies reddening 
at evening across a white world, but draggle-tailed weather,, 
with drifting showers of snow which changed to mud as soon as 
it touched earth. The hours of the Christmas eve dragged 
along somehow. Sheila went through her daily round in an 
automatic way ; it was a great day of cooking and cleaning and 
general adornment. Sheila did her share, concealing well the 
painful excitement which at every sound set her heart to beating 
so that it deafened her, but the day brought no visitor and no- 
message. Towards evening, and when the place was shining, 
the girl's heart and courage failed her ; she went up to her bed- 
room in the thatch and lay down on her bed, turning her face to 
the wall with a feeling that the world was over with her. She 
lay staring fixedly at the moonlight, till her mother came steal- 
ing in to see if she slept, and then as the tender, homely face,, 
which had never looked at her with anything but love, was bent 
down to kiss her, she sat up and laid her head with a gesture of 
weariness on that kind breast. The mother just rocked her to- 
and fro, crooning soft words, and then laid her down on the 
pillow, comforting her till she slept, but of the cause of her 
trouble she would not speak. Tom and the mother could come 
to no conclusion about it; they had heavy hearts that night for 
their lamb. 

The next day, Mass being over, Sheila was excused from ser- 
vice, her heavy eyes being cause enough. In the best parlor 
there was a pleasant fire of turf, and the pictures wreathed with 
holly and ivy, and the corner cupboard with its store of ancient 
china, shone pleasantly in the firelight. The short day was half 
over, and it had begun to grow dusk in ^ the room; it was a 



.] A MARSH-MARIGOLD. 345 

dreary day, with the same monotonous, silent falling of half-melt- 
ed snow. Sheila had sat down on the rug, with Trusty beside 
her, his head in her lap ; he was old and feeble now, poor Trus- 
ty ! Some one who opened the door and came in noiselessly 
felt the full beauty of the little group, the girl with her wistful 
young face illumined by the firelight, one little round wrist and 
hand propping the golden head. But even more swiftly he 
noticed, for it was Lance, the dimming of her roses, the little pa- 
thetic droop of the patient figure. Almost before she knew he 
had come he had his arms about her and was saying with a fierce 
tenderness : 

" Child, what have you done to yourself? I felt that you 
were trying me sorely, but, like a selfish brute, I never thought 
that you were trying yourself." 

"Oh!' she said, looking at him as if she never could look 
enough, "you have come back after all." 

Manlike, he was indignant with her for even supposing he 
would not come ; he had known so surely all along that he was 
coming, but she she had not known, being a woman and con- 
demned to silence and inaction. She was very glad now just to 
be quiet in his love, and to let him take everything in his own 
hands. Before he told her what had happened to him in those 
months he bound her to him, taking from his pocket his mother's 
engagement ring, with its heart of diamonds and pearls, and slip- 
ping it on her finger. She was only conscious of how good it 
was to be mastered in this imperious fashion. Then, holding her 
hands and stroking back her hair, he told her that she was to- 
marry a poor man, for poor, perverse old Sir Andrew, indignant 
because his heir had not carried off the English lady, had mar- 
ried himself, proposing in a moment of heat to a buxorn widow 
lady who was little likely to permit his recantation. And he was 
already a Benedict of a month's standing. But Lance, though 
he had his few hundreds a year of income, which to those simple 
people he desired to make his own seemed riches, was fallen 
from his high estate, for his uncle's property was not entailed, 
and if it were, the new Lady Armstrong was quite young enough 
to make other contingencies possible. So he had decided to take 
his fortunes in his own hands, and go out to South Africa, with 
a present intention of ostrich-farming, but with an idea of a fu- 
ture of more adventurous things. 

For a dispossessed prince he was wonderfully elated ; he was 
rather like a man who had escaped from galling poverty to- 
riches than one who had lost wealth and position. Now that he 




34^ A MARSH-MARIGOLD. [June, 

had won his love, he seemed to have no more left to wish for; 
the one drop of bitterness in his cup might be perhaps his es- 
trangement from his uncle, but he was too glad for the moment 
to be able to think of it. And Sheila, she could only listen to 
all his outpourings, and the plans for the new life with which his 
brain swarmed, and wonder if this beautiful world was the same 
gray, drenched place she had known this morning, or whether, 
perhaps, it might not be a dream from which she would waken 
too soon. So she sat there, silent from happiness, in the great 
chair where he had placed her, with her cheek against his arm, 
and her eyes shy and glad. 

Tom, coming in for his Christmas dinner, was surprised to 
find his capable helpmate in her chair in the corner of the 
kitchen with her apron over her head, crying, and was not a 
little alarmed till he heard the cause. Then he was glad and 
sorry all at once, for Lance had found time before seeing his 
sweetheart to tell her mother something of how his affairs stood, 
and the old man knew his little girl would be going very far 
away from him. However, he was too unselfish, as was her 
mother, to let any cloud of sorrow darken the happiness of the 
lovers when they came out from the parlor, Sheila very blush- 
ing and shy, but Lance walking proudly and with a gladder light 
in his eyes than any one had ever seen there before. 

Sa<at Shrovetide they were married and went off to the 
ITransvaaJ:. I won't sadden their story by telling how the old 
people mourned in secret for the child they scarcely ever hoped 
.tt) s;e;e again. But the gladdest and happiest thing of all was 
; that after five years, Sir Andrew being dead and his childless 
widow settled with a handsome jointure, Sir Launcelot was sent 
for and came home to take up the property his uncle had left 
him to support the title. And the new baronet was as brown as 
a berry, and bigger and brawnier than ever, with hands rough- 
ened by toil and a voice louder than one often hears in drawing- 
rooms, but picturesque, said the young ladies, who were greatly 
taken with his manliness. As for Sheila, the vague rumors 
about her birth faded into thin air before the sight of the stately 
young creature she had grown into, and so well dressed, for the 
dowager Lady Armstrong, who was a good soul, had made 
friends with the young couple and been enraptured with Sheila's 
possibilities, and had assisted her in all the minor details of dress 
in which the girl's own good taste could not have helped her. 
She made a fureur wherever she went, not only in Dublin but in 
London, where a great artist painted her with her beautiful boy 



1889.] To A ROSE IN JUNE. 347 

in her arms, like a Sir Joshua Reynolds portrait. And Lance 
had plenty to do even for his superabundant energies, with 
estates in the two countries to manage on which nothing had 
been done for years, and where things were sadly in need of 
setting to rights. He was a revolutionary .landlord and respect- 
ed his tenants' rights, and so ordered the relations between them 
and him that when the troubled times came he was perfectly at 
peace ; those measures cost him much popularity with his fel- 
low-landlords, at least in Ireland, for the time, but events proved 
his wisdom. And he went into Parliament, and altogether led a 
very busy and honorable life; yet, would it be believed? always 
claimed as the happiest days of his life those toiling ones under 
a South African sun. And Tom and Mrs. Donovan had the 
Home Farm on the Irish estate, from whence Tom commanded 
things generally in his son-in-law's absence. Even to be near 
Sheila would not induce them to live in England, but Tom 
found his way over once for a short time. I have been told that 
a very great lady was on that occasion heard to express warm 
admiration for Lady Armstrong's father, for his distinction of 
bearing and feature, his silvery locks, but above all for " his 
beautiful manners." KATHARINE TYNAN. 




TO A ROSE IN JUNE. 

(A Rondeau?) 

You mystic rose from dainty cell 

Made by our God and closed well, O utaViQ. 

Until beneath the young moon's light, 
When woodbine's perfume filled the night, 

You of His goodness came to tell. 

To Venus, who in pink-tinged shell 

Arose, like you, on earth to dwell, 
The Pagans gave you- -'twas a blight, 
You mystic Rose ! 

Their poets called you heart's delight, 
For you were splendid in their sight, 
But, though degraded then you fell, 
We now the olden shame dispel : 
You're Mary's symbol, red or white, 

You mystic Rose ! 

MAURICE FRANCIS EGAN. 



348 THE PROGRAMME AND BASIS OF [June, 



THE PROGRAMME AND BASIS OF THE ST. 

CECILIA SOCIETY. 

. " Temperance, with golden square, 
Betwixt them both can measure out a mean." Shakspere. 

THE topic of church music seems to occupy more and more 
the attention of those who by virtue of their ecclesiastical office 
are interested in its cultivation and reform. There is at present 
no art in the service of the Catholic Church which needs so 
thorough a reform as ecclesiastical music. For in the vast 
majority of our churches music, both vocal and instrumental, has 
been so ruthlessly divested of its sacred character that, were it 
not for the officiating ^clergy, the altars and pews and pictures, 
the house of God could not be distinguished from a concert-hall. 
To stay this rapid decline of sacred music, and to remedy this 
evil for an evil it is, and productive of other evils societies 
have been formed in various countries on the platform of the 
ecclesiastical regulations regarding church music. These socie- 
ties, which are commonly known under the one name of the St, 
Cecilia Society, have by this time spread and succeeded so far 
as to exclude the probability of a retrogression, though the 
antagonistic efforts of their opponents have not yet ceased. But 
there is every probability that they will cease sooner or later. 
For, whatever objections to the St. Cecilia Society may be cur- 
rent, they are founded either on want of information or on mis- 
understandings. 

Some say that the Cecilians are too rigorous, approve of 
nothing but Gregorian chant and a dreary and weary sort of 
music which drives the people from church. This is an 
-ever old and ever new objection of such as have never expe- 
rienced the beauty of the music recommended and promoted by 
the St. Cecilia Society, and of such as have spoiled their taste by 
feasting their ears upon worldly and sentimental airs even in the 
house of God. Let the Cecilians have a fair trial, and we shall 
see how they can draw the people and fill the churches, not in- 
deed with, idle pleasure-seekers, but with devout worshippers. 

Again, others say that the Cecilians favor only a very limited 
list of music; they exclude the Gregorian chant it sounds odd, 
but I have heard the objection myself and the masterpieces of 
our most famous composers. Suffice it to call the attention of 
such opponents to the programme of the society, as it has been 
laid down by our late president, the much revered and much 



.] 777 ST. CECILIA SOCIETY. 349 

lamented Dr. F. H. Witt (who died December 2, 1888) : " It is 
the task of the St. Cecilia Society to make all the good and 
suitable church music that has been composed in the last two 
thousand years serviceable to the church." Does that pro- 
gramme seem very limited? It is true the society excludes all 
so-called church music that disregards the prescriptions of the 
liturgy, and it does not shrink from stigmatizing as unfit for the 
church even the works of the greatest musicians, as Beethoven, 
Mozart, Haydn, Rossini, Cherubini, and others, inasmuch as they 
do not abide by the requirements of liturgy. A true Cecilian 
has never questioned their superiority in musical art, but a mass 
boy can tell their shortcomings in liturgy. 

The programme and basis of the St. Cecilia Society may be 
stated as follows : The Cecilian catalogue of to-day contains 
over one thousand numbers, comprising masses, collections of 
musical pieces, and theoretical works. The programme, or the 
mission, of the St. Cecilia Society is to promote the Gregorian 
chant and to cultivate figured music within the limits drawn by 
the laws of the church ; its basis is the approval and blessing 
of Rome. Hence it is manifest that the musical programme of 
the Cecilians is exactly as broad as that of the church, and that 
it is bounded by the precepts of liturgy and by nothing else. 

It may be well to draw those boundary lines in order to enable 
our readers themselves to judge whether the St. Cecilia Society 
has ever transgressed them by introducing music against the 
precepts of the liturgy, or contracted them too closely by ex- 
cluding music which is in accordance with the liturgy. The 
following regulations embody the legislation of various councils 
and the decrees of the Sacred Congregation of Rites : 

1. The church gives her full approval to the Gregorian chant, 
and wishes it to be taught and practised in schools and semina- 
ries. The Cecilians fully realize this wish of the church, and 
spare no efforts to have it complied with. 

2. The church admits, nay, approves, of such figured music as 
is composed in the spirit and tonality of the Gregorian chant, 
principally the Palestrina style. The Cecilians and the most 
prominent composers in their ranks have always fostered Pales- 
trina's works and imitated his style. 

3. The church permits the judicious use of certain musical 
instruments, and the acquirements of modern musical art, as far 
as they do not interfere with the sacredness of the house of God 
and of the august sacrifice of the Mass. Only men of musical 
ability and good taste, as well as men who have a thorough 



3$o THE PROGRAMME AND BASIS OF 

knowledge of the liturgy and its requirements, can be relied on 
to judge whether or not compositions are suitable for the church. 
The St. Cecilia Society has appointed such judges, whose ap- 
proval is necessary before any piece of music can receive the 
society's sanction. 

4. The church demands that figured music should be plain 
(cantus sit gravis}\ devout i.e., expressive of devotion and piety 
(pius) ; and befitting the church (vere ecclesiasticus). These de- 
mands of the church exclude, therefore, all- music that is gay and 
lascivious ; that is to say, the music of the concert-room, theatre, 
and dancing-hall ; all music that causes distraction; and such as 
may even produce evil thoughts and imaginations in the mind of 
the hearer. Does the reader doubt that there is any such 
music? The fathers of the Council of Trent and of all subse- 
quent councils warn us against it. The St. Cecilia Society and 
its committee of examiners are very careful in preserving their 
catalogue of music undefiled by such trash. 

5. The church demands intelligibility of the sacred words ; 
hence the organ or instrumental accompaniment should be sub- 
servient to, and not domineer over, them. Cecilian experts have 
emphasized this important point in word and example. 

6. The church demands that beside the organ no other instru- 
ments should be employed, unless the bishop whose duty it is 
to watch over the decorum of the divine service has previously 
given his consent. (Nee alia instrumenta musicalia, praeter 
ipsum organum, addantur, nisi prsevio consensu episcopi, cuius 
est decorum cultus sacri custodire. Caer. Ep. xxviii. n.) This 
regulation is new, inasmuch as now the use of musical instru- 
ments depends upon the express and previous permission of the 
bishop of the diocese. Whether or not this permission is to be 
asked toties quoties i.e., in every single case is not clearly stated, 
though the present practice at Rome favors this interpretation. 
It is, however, a very wise regulation, since heretofore all sorts 
of instruments, even the piano, have been indiscriminately em- 
ployed in Catholic churches. The Cecilians will gladly abide by 
this decision, since they have always preferred a capella singing, 
or organ to any other instrumental accompaniment. 

7. The church has ordained that neither the organ nor any 
other musical instrument should be used on the Sundays of 
Advent and Lent, except on the third Sunday of Advent and the 
fourth of Lent. The St. Cecilia Society has likewise insisted on 
having this rule carried out to the letter. 

8. The church forbids to shorten, transpose, or lengthen the 



1889.] THE ST. CECILIA SOCIETY. 351 

sacred text by too frequent repetitions. Here one might object 
that Cecilian composers indulge in various repetitions, and that, 
if repetitions are permitted at all, it is very hard to draw the 
proper limits. To this I answer that not every repetition of a 
sacred text is forbidden, but only such as interrupt the liturgical 
functions at the altar, or such as emphasize words or passages 
which are of no prominent meaning, or such as change the mean- 
ing of the text entirely. It is true, Cecilian composers make 
use of repetitions, but they never interfere with the celebrating 
priest, nor do they employ such uncalled-for repetitions as we 
find in the masses of Haydn, Mozart, and other masters of musi- 
cal art, who in the use of the words are guided by the technical 
structure of composition rather than by the meaning of the text 
and the liturgical functions at the altar. Herein lies their mis- 
take. They do not accommodate themselves to the liturgy, but 
they force the liturgy to accommodate itself to them. The 
statement that the Gregorian chant does not repeat * is not quite 
correct, or may at least be misunderstood. On Candlemas day 
the words " Lumen ad revelationem," etc., are repeated five 
times ; on Palm Sunday the antiphons " Pueri Hebrseorum," 
etc., are repeated until the palms are distributed ; during the 
procession on the same Sunday the words " Gloria, laus et 
honor," etc., are repeated six times. These and many other 
similar repetitions which are prescribed by the rubrics seem to 
indicate that repetitions may be employed, provided that the 
liturgical action be not interrupted and the sacred text remain 
unimpaired. Such and only such repetitions are admitted by 
Cecilian composers. Examine their catalogue. 

9. The church prescribes that, besides the Ordinary of the 
Mass, the Introit, Gradual, Alleluia or Tract, Sequence, Offer- 
tory, and Communion should be sung " prout jacet in Missali" as 
it is laid down in the Missal. It has always bden one of the 
principal aims of the St. Cecilia Society to increase the number 
of those choirs which sing everything prescribed by the rubrics. 

There are some who, as to the duties of the choir, distinguish 
between a Solemn High Mass and a Missa Cantata i.e., a Mass 
sung by the celebrant without deacon and subdeacon. This dis- 
tinction is altogether arbitrary and has no foundation whatever. 
For what reason could there be to dispense partly or entirely 
with the singing of the choir, while the celebrant is held to sing 
everything as in a Solemn High Mass? The Sacred Congrega- 
tion of Rites has never made such a distinction ; and in some 

* Cfr. CATHOLIC WORLD, October, 1888, p. 100. 
VOL. XLIX. 23 



35 2 THE PROGRAMME AND BASIS OF [June, 

provincial councils it is expressly stated that in a Missa Cantata 
the same parts of the Mass are to be chanted as in a Solemn 
High Mass (Cfr. Cone. Prov. Milwauchiense, cap. xiii. I : Ut In- 
troitus, Graduale, Offertorium, Communio, nee non Sequentia, 
quando occurrit, in Missis cantatis, et de fortiori in Missis solem- 
nibus cantentur). 

10. The church prescribes that the Creed should be sung en- 
tirely, and forbids the celebrating priest to continue in the Mass 
while the choir sings the Creed (Congr. Rit., Dec. 15, 1695). 

n. The decrees of various councils and the statutes of sever- 
al dioceses forbid the admittance of heretics, Jews, and infidels 
to the choir. Only practical Catholics, who with their hearts 
believe and in their works show forth what they sing with their 
mouths (qui, quod ore cantant, corde credunt, operibus compro- 
bant. Cone. Colon., cap. xx.), are to be admitted to the choir. 

12. The church forbids the singing of hymns in the vernacu- 
lar language during High Mass and Vespers, at Benediction, and 
before the Blessed Sacrament exposed.* The periodicals of the 
St. Cecilia Society have time and again called the attention of 
church choirs to this abuse, while at the same time they have 
pointed out those occasions when hymns in the vernacular lan- 
guage may be sung. 

13. In regard to the different forms of ecclesiastical music 
the church approves of the Gregorian chant, recommends poly- 
phonic music alia Palestrina, and permits modern music, in so far 
as it is in keeping with the ecclesiastical regulations concerning 
church music. The Cecilian catalogue of music contains exclu- 
sively such music as is either approved or recommended or 
permitted by ecclesiastical authority. 

""A few remarks on this last point may not be out of place, as 
they are intended to illustrate one of the leading principles of 
the St. Cecilia Society. That principle may be couched in these 
words : In medio stat virtus virtue holds the mean. There is at 
present no dispute about the propriety of the Gregorian chant 
for divine service. It is decidedly and deservedly the music of 
the church, because it complies most perfectly with the require- 
ments of liturgy, and has been approved at all times by ecclesi- 
astical authority as well as by the most prominent musicians. 
Some most zealous ecclesiastics have even gone so far as to 

* In 1882 the Sacred Congregation of Rites permitted the singing of hymns in the vernacu- 
lar before the Blessed Sacrament exposed, adding, however, that this allowance is not to be 
extended to the Te Daum or any other liturgical prayers (Wapelhorst's Liturgy, 218, 12). As 
to Benediction, su?h hymns maybe sung before the Tantum ergo (Instr. past. Alton., 1880). 



1889.] 7ffE $ T - CECILIA SOCIETY. 353 

xclude all figured music from their service. Are they to 
blame ? By no means ! It just strikes me that there is some 
similarity between these exclusive Gregorians and the total ab- 
stainers, who, for the love of God and their own immortal souls, 
deny themselves the enjoyment of a licit pleasure. Are these to 
blame? Certainly not! On the contrary, they are to be con- 
sidered as men of truly heroic virtue ; and if they succeed in in- 
ducing others to practise the same virtue, they certainly do an 
eminently good work and are deserving of great praise. But if 
they go so far as to regard those who are not willing to follow 
them as public sinners, if they call illicit what is licit, if they 
encroach upon the rights of their fellow-men; in a word, if they 
apply every means good or bad to attain their end, then they 
are to blame. Apply this to the Gregorians. Let them work 
for their cause to the utmost of their power by word and ex- 
ample ; by word, showing the excellence and beauty of the Gre- 
gorian melodies and their especial propriety for the church ; by 
example, performing Gregorian chant to perfection. But let 
them refrain from stigmatizing as illicit what the church herself 
has allowed, and even encouraged ; let them not encroach upon 
the right of those who favor a judicious use of figured music. 
Moreover, it seems to me that it is always a mistake to meet or 
cure one extreme by another. Therefore, I should not like to 
see Archbishop Janssen's ultimatum carried into effect : " Should 
abuse run so high that nothing but an heroic and extreme mea- 
sure could check it, it might then be deemed the bishop's duty 
to banish all figured music, and to tolerate nothing else but what 
the church has approved the Gregorian chant " (Cfr. CATHOLIC 
WORLD, October, 1888, p. 100). True, if there were no mean 
between the Gregorian chant and the utterly degenerate figured 
music. But there exists such a mean, and that is such figured 
music as fulfils all the conditions of the ecclesiastical law ; and 
such music may be found in the musical catalogue of the St. 
Cecilia Society. Why, then, should the bishops resort to " an 
heroic and extreme measure' while abuses can be remedied by 
more lenient and more appropriate measures e.g., by either 
adopting the Cecilian catalogue, or, as the Cecilians make no efforts 
whatever to push their own catalogue as the only correct one, by draw- 
ing up anew catalogue which contains nothing else but strictly 
liturgical music? In medio stat virtus. 

But to return to the advocates of Gregorian chant only. I 
say nothing about the obstacles and inconveniences with which 
they must meet under the present circumstances, but I say this 



354 THE PROGRAMME AND BASIS OF [June, 

much, that they have no right to dispute the propriety of figured 
music as long as the church herself blesses the endeavors of 
those men who are engaged in promoting figured music upon 
the basis of ecclesiastical legislation. It is wrong, or at least 
liable to be misunderstood, to say that "all modern music is 
written in either the major or minor mode, with free use of 
modulation by means of the diabolus in musica " (Cfr. CATHOLIC 
WORLD, March, 1889, page 800).* For there exists, fortunately, 
a goodly number of compositions of recent date which may be 
justly styled music alia Palestrina, because they are not writ- 
ten in either the modern major or minor key, but (they) strictly 
preserve the tonality of the ecclesiastical modes,f twelve in num- 
ber. Every musician that has some knowledge of the tonality 
of the ancient church modes will be convinced of this fact by 
even a superficial perusal of the works of Witt,J Piel, Haller, 
Greith, Mitterer, Hanisch, Koenen, Schaller, Singenberger, 
Beltjens, Lans, Tinel, Ahle, Van Damme, Jepkens, Lemmens, 
Blied, Maas, etc. 

But must modern harmonization be rejected altogether? Is 
thece so vast a difference between the tonality of the ancient 
church modes and the modern major and minor keys that the 
former is exclusively ecclesiastical and the latter exclusively pro- 
fane ? These questions have been answered in the negative by 
most prominent musicians of our times. Nay, more, men of un- 
disputed authority in musical matters maintain that the modern 
theory of harmony is the necessary consequence and develop- 
ment of the harmony of the old. Hear what the historian Am- 
bros has to say on this point : 

" One thing must be especially kept in mind : We who hava been in- 
structed in music on quite different principles are but too liable to make 
this one mistake regarding the church modes, that we look at them from 
the harmonic point of view (e.g., taking the Dorian mode for a sort of D 

* The excursus on modern harmonized music, page 799, is insufficient and misleading ; it 
should have been stated that there are at present a great many worthy representatives of the 
Palestrina style. 

t Those who wish to inform themselves to what extent the tonality of the twelve modes 
may be preserved in harmony will find a very lucid exposition in Ambros' Musikgeschichte, 
iii. pages 97-130. 

\ The French Revue du Chant Liturgique et de la Musique Religieuse, January, 1889, 
says of Witt : " Comme compositeur de musique religieuse, Witt surpasse de beaucoup la plu- 
part de ses contemporains et, si nous envisageons le caractere transcendant de ses ceuvres mu- 
sicales, nous n'avons que trop raison de nous eerier : Uimpitoyable mart nous a ravi un second 
Palestrina" 

Compare Singenberger's organ accompaniment to P. Dreves' Hymnal with other organ 
accompaniments published in this country, and you will make the acquaintance of the " diabo- 
lus in musica." 



.] THE ST. CECILIA SOCIETY. 355 

minor, and the Phrygian for E minor). However, those ancient modes are 
originally not based on ^he simultaneous sounding of tones, but on succes- 
sive sounds, not on chords, but on scales; they are melodic, not harmonic, 
while our modern keys and scales originate from the triple alliance of the 
tonic, dominant, and subdominant triads.* The various church modes are 
originally intended for the Cantus Planus, in which alone they may be con- 
sistently employed. Harmonic movements, however, cannot strictly and 
consistently adhere to one and the same mode; they must be modified, or, 
in other words, become a mixture of several modes, and thus resemble 
more or less our modern system of harmony ^^ 

Hence we may infer that modern harmony per se is not to be 
ousted from the church. 

Furthermore, it cannot be denied that the church-musical 
committee of eight cardinals which was appointed by Pope Pius 
IV. in 1564, by approving of the masses composed by Palestrina, 
bestowed their approval upon figured music in general, provided 
that the same conditions be fulfilled which were then to be ful- 
filled. For the cardinals approved of Palestrina's music, not on 
account of its peculiar tonality, but (i) because it contained no 
profane or lascivious airs or imitations thereof ; (2) because it 
excluded all unliturgical accessories in the text; (3) principally 
because the sacred words were perfectly intelligible. Now, if 
these conditions can be fulfilled by modern harmony and they 
certainly can there is no reason whatsoever why it should not 
be employed. It is true, indeed, that modern harmony is more 
liable to become profane, and even lascivious, but it is riot essen- 
tially so. There are certain chords and combinations of it which 
should be avoided in church music ; there is a certain rhythm in 
modern music which is not befitting the house of God ; there 
are certain chromatic modulations, embellishments, and uncom- 
mon intervals which are peculiar to profane music, and should 
not be indulged in by composers of ecclesiastical music. Very 
well ; let the outgrowth of modern harmonization and that which 
is peculiarly profane be kept far from the church, but let that 
which is acceptable and conformable to the conditions of ecclesi- 
astical music freely enter the house of God. The church does 
not favor extremes ; neither does the St. Cecilia Society. In 
media stat virtus. 

C. BECKER. 

Seminary of St. Francis de Sales, Milwaukee, Wis. 



* Cfr. Richter's Manual of Harmony, page 23. 
t Ambros' Musikgeschichte, iii. page 98. 



356 THE WORLD IN A DROP OF WATER. [June, 



THE WORLD IN A DROP OF WATER. 

THE wealth of knowledge that we have lately gathered from 
the mines of science has made men vain. And yet what great 
problems has our treasure helped us to solve? How many new 
problems has it not made? Had it only given us to know scien- 
tifically the secret of being, the mystery of life! We should not 
have been satisfied even then ; but we could have gone forward 
with a larger, juster sense of pride. 

What is life? The question troubled that brilliant physiolo- 
gist, Claude Bernard. As he pushed his inquiries, he sought 
again and again to satisfy himself with new answers. Here is 
one of them. He was in class, scalpel in hand, a subject before 
him. The things he saw filled his mind with one thought. 
"What is life ?" said he, facing his. pupils. And in the same 
breath he answered : " Life is death." The answer is telling, 
and true in a sense. The instant we discover evidence of what 
we call life in vertebrate or invertebrate in hydra, worm, crab r 
fly, fish, snake, bird, monkey, or man that same instant we can 
say : This animal is dying. Whether in motion or at rest, 
every process of the organism however high, however low, in 
the scale of being is a step in the way of death. Life is not 
death ; but living is, in a sense, dying. Claude Bernard's 
abrupt, impressive saying must have aided his pupils in direct- 
ing their studies. But it by no means resolved his own diffi- 
culty. Indeed, it did not touch that difficulty. However, his 
answer was as good of its kind as that of any scientific man be- 
fore or since. 

Whatever life be, its manifestations are wonderful. Who can 
compass them as a whole? Here we are busy with our own 
little work, and gleaning a stray ear of knowledge in one field 
or another. Our garner-house will surely never be filled. The 
man with the microscope keeps adding to a store whose size he 
will not have time to measure. He who begins to group facts 
about a centre need not hope to see more than a narrow circle 
completed. There is no generalization he can make, or deduc- 
tion he can draw therefrom, that will not be imperfect, uncer- 
tain. It is the fashion to write bold words on the liberty of the 
scientist. Who would think of limiting him further? Is he not 
hemmed in by his own activities, by the perplexities of his own 
mind, the defectiveness of his own senses, by his finiteness? Cer- 



1889] THE WORLD IN A DROP OF WATER. 357 

tainly no one would think of cramping him closer. It would be 
inhuman. With all his new learning-, he still closes his note- 
book with the sad, true words of the wise man of old : " When a 
man hath done, then shall he begin : and when he leaveth off, he 
shall be at a loss." 

Still, what the man of science " hath done" in observing and 
studying living things is curious and useful. How much of life 
that long ago ceased living, and of which we never dreamed, 
has he not revealed ! Now the stones indeed preach a sermon 
to us, a sermon on life. And what a wondrous story the man of 
science tells every day of the creatures in the deeps, in the air, 
on the earth's surface our dear brothers, as good St. Francis 
would say who, quite unknown to us, have been working, suf- 
fering, and enjoying, according to place, times, and measure ! 
Until somebody whose name the muse of history forgot to re- 
cord made us a present of a microscope about two hundred and 
seventy years ago we knew very little of our physical selves, 
and less of the actual life on our globe. Men saw the cloud that 
enveloped the mysteries of life, but had no conception of its 
vasty depth. And with all our hammers and dredges, knives 
and lenses, he would be a rash man who would say that atop ot 
our great mountain of strange facts we moderns stand in a 
clearer atmosphere, or see one inch deeper into the ever- rising 
mist. As we climb the uppermost peak, the wise man whether 
he be King Solomon or plain Mr. Coholeth, as the enlightening 
and lightsome M. Renan would have it may well whisper into 
our ear : " And the more he shall labor to seek, so much the less 
shall he find : yea, though the wise man should say that he 
knoweth it, he shall not be able to find it." 

The late Mr. Darwin and his school centred our attention on 
a few studied phrases, which for a time were assumed by minds 
not too well trained to be essential truths, more important, 
more fundamental than mere philosophical axioms. These 
phrases had their use. They led a number of observers to con- 
fine themselves to certain groups of phenomena. Th'us our 
knowledge concerning these particular phenomena was quickly 
enlarged. But the phrases did not thereby gain in importance. 
Should an inquirer wish to fix a definite limit to his studies of 
life in animals, or, for that matter, in plants, the stock phrase, 
" The struggle for life," may well serve his purpose. However, 
the struggle for life is not a feature more marked among living 
things than the ease and freedom with which life assures its 
continuity. If living be dying, dying is life. Here is a being 



358 THE WORLD IN A DROP OF WATER. [June, 

that has just begun to live. Beginning to live, it has begun to 
die. But all the time it is dying individually it is giving life to 
its kind. How active nature is in providing for the persistence 
of life under all its forms we have once more learned from the 
later studies of beings whom we assume to be very low down in 
the scale of existence. 

The profusion of certain forms of life has always been a cause 
of astonishment to mankind. If our ancestors wondered, how 
should it be with us, who have had new worlds of living things 
disclosed to us, and are now seemingly only on, the threshold 
of knowledge? The men who gather, and the men who peer 
through the lens, say that they know two hundred thousand dis- 
tinct forms of insect life ; that observation and classification have 
just begun ; and that they have reason on their side when they 
estimate the actual insect forms at one million. And what of the 
infusoria, about which, after nigh two centuries of hard work, 
some little has been learned? 

It was in 1677 that the Dutch naturalist, Antony van Leuwen- 
hoek spell it as you please first noticed these strange organ- 
isms. He found them in water ; observed all he could see ; saw 
odd things which he could not understand ; told the world of 
them in his Arcana, and led others to study. Neither he nor his 
contemporaries could explain the comings and goings of the 
singular little creatures he discovered. Wherever there were 
signs of decomposing matter in water, there he saw the infusoria 
spring into life. Whence came they? The answer was easy. 
They came out of nothing, were spontaneously generated. The 
theory of spontaneous generation has helped many a moderately 
wise man over many tall difficulties from Aristotle's day down 
almost to our own day. It made things easy for Leuwenhoek 
and his immediate followers. Then came Redi, and Reaumur, 
and Schwammerdam, and the Abbate Spallanzani you cannot 
turn an advanced corner in science without meeting a priest ! 
They undermined the ancient citadel. The new microscopes 
served them as weapons. But the old guard did not surrender. 
As late as 1860 Pouchet, amid much cheering, again took the 
field in behalf of the cause of spontaneous generation. Pasteur 
made an end of Pouchet, and, for the time being, buried the 
famous theory. Ten years later Charlton Bastian dug it up, 
and rashly rallied a little crowd of blind men around the bier. 
They, and Bastian if alive, may hold the same opinion still, 
though Tyndall, following Pasteur's tactics, routed the army 
horse, foot, and dragoons. 



.] THE WORLD IN A DROP OF WATER. 359 

What a simple theory it was! How readily it explained 
many things otherwise inexplicable at the time ! The closest 
students, the most logical minds, the most pugnacious doubters 
believed in it. To show how misleading a smart phrase may be, 
let us note by the way that the theory of spontaneous generation 
could be fairly summed up in the axiom, Death is life. For, 
according to this theory, corruption bred new beings. Every 
scientific man did not go as far as Van Helmont, who, more than 
two hundred years ago, first suggested the true notion of the 
respiration and nutrition of plants. During the better part of 
the sixty-seven years he was dying Van Helmont studied living 
things. At the end he was more than ever convinced of the 
truth of the theory of spontaneous generation. After years of 
careful looking, he set it down as a fact that snails, leeches, and 
frogs were born of the miasmata of marshes. And he gener- 
ously bequeathed to mankind two recipes, which, Heaven be 
praised! are no longer effective. The one was to help us breed 
mice spontaneously. Here's the prescription ; you will want it : 
First, take a pot as the cook-books say. Into this pot throw a 
handful of grain. Then add one old shirt and wait. Imagine 
mice waiting while there was a grain of grain in the pot ! Van 
Helmont's second recipe is no less novel than the first. Who 
that has not tried shall say, absolutely, that it is not founded on 
fact? If you are fond of pets, you might like a brood of scor- 
pions. Once more take a pot another pot. In this you place 
some basil. Do not stop to joke about the unfortunate Mr. 
Keats, but pound the basil. Have some bricks 'handy. Set 
them out in the sun. Strew the pounded basil under the bricks. 
In due time, if Van Helmont's recipe is to be trusted, you will 
have scorpions. Should none come, it might be well, out of re- 
spect to the good man's memory, to keep the thing to yourself. 
But should they come, call a witness, write down a true state- 
ment, and mail it promptly to THE CATHOLIC WORLD or some 
other learned journal. And please remember your indebtedness 
to Mr. van Helmont. 

These ready recipes for the making of living animals out of 
vegetables, earth, and old clo' remind us of the science of the 
good monk Theophilus, who, they say, lived away back in the 
" dark " ages. The wicked men of those days were fond of gold, 
and Theophilus told them what he had learned about making 
the real Spanish article. First of all, they must breed not a scor- 
pion but a deadly cockatrice. In a dark underground apart- 
ment, walled in with stones, toads, fed on bread, were to hatch 



360 THE WORLD IN A DROP OF WA TER. [June, 

out hen's eggs. Seven days after the hatching the chicklets 
would grow serpents' tails. Were we seeking gold, we might be 
interested in the further details of the secret of Theophilus. 
But a$ we are observing life, we will halt at the cockatrice. 
Comparing Van Helmont's methods with those of Theophilus,. 
we mark the glorious growth of a single branch of science 
within the short period of five hundred years. Of course a 
scorpion is not a cockatrice; but there can be little doubt that if 
basil were properly pounded, and compounded, it would sprout 
a basilisk as quickly as a scorpion. 

Some of us may laugh at Van Leuwenhoek or Theophilus. 
But their theory is popular in our great country to-day. The 
housewife who lives near a "livery' accuses the manure of 
breeding the moths that eat her plush, furs, or carpets. The 
'farmer still charges the mites in his flour to the mysterious 
operations of moisture and heat. The butcher as well as the 
peasant for, thank the Lord ! with all our social science there 
are a few peasants left are as certain as men can be about 
things of which they know nothing, that their cheeses, and dried 
"cuts," create living things out of themselves. Some truths 
settle down slowly. 

However, let us return to Mr. van Leuwenhoek. The queer 
little animals that he saw in the water were as nothing compared 
with those he could not see. As the power of the microscope 
has been increased, by new combinations of lenses and new 
mechanical appliances, our knowledge of the infusorial world 
has been constantly enlarged. Each time that it has been given 
to men to see more clearly they have found organisms more and 
more minute. A long line of patient observers like Ehrenberg, 
Dujardin, Von Siebold, Friedrich Ritter von Stein, Perty, Lach- 
mann, Claparede, Biitschli, Pritchard, Saville Kent, and our 
fellow-countryman, James Clarke, have devoted themselves to- 
the study of these infinitesimal beings, following them in their 
various habitations; photographing their forms; determining 
their manifold modes of life ; examining their structure. Enough 
has been learned to fill us with wonder, and to fix more deeply 
in our minds the pettiness of our knowledge concerning not our 
life alone but life in general. 

We are just beginning to know something of those minute 
vegetable forms called bacteria. The microscopists find them 
in the air, in water, in the soil, in and on all things living 
and not living. Their number astounds us ; so exceeding great 
is their vitality, their reproductive power, their variety, that 



.] THE WORLD IN A DROP OF WATER. 361 

the liveliest imagination stands amazed, fearing- lest proven 
fact may be mere poetic fancy. Yet the strain put upon 
the imagination has been at least doubled by the glimpse 
now afforded us of the still unbounded world of the infusoria. 
In minuteness, in number, in activity, in vitality, in power of re- 
production, in variety, in extent o( distribution, they equal if 
they do not surpass the bacteria. Many of the infusoria are 
hardly distinguishable from vegetable forms. They lie on the 
outermost confines of that kind of life we call animal. Students 
from time to time shift some species from the vegetable to the 
animal, or from the animal to the vegetable, kingdom ; so difficult 
is it, with our actual instruments, to differentiate plant from 
animal in these lower microscopic forms of life. 

How infinitesimally small are certain of the infusoria may be 
judged from the stories set down in the books. There you will 
find it stated that a single drop of water may contain five hun- 
dred millions; or again, that eight millions of a fossil species 
will not occupy a space larger than a single grain of mustard- 
seed, whose diameter is not more than one-tenth of an inch. 
Big figures like these astonish, but they are hardly ever satis- 
factory. Probably we shall get a fairer notion of the size of the 
smaller infusoria by taking the measurements of skilled- micro- 
scopists. They tell us that many of these animals when full 
grown do not exceed -g-gVo of an inch in diameter. 

Having been first seen in fresh water, men sought them there. 
And as the fashionable theory bred them out of corruption, ex- 
periments were made with vegetable infusions to establish the 
truth of the theory. Unclean ponds were found to be alive with 
the marvellous little animals. Now we know that the mighty 
ocean, every tiny rivulet, river broad or narrow, straight or 
winding, slow or rapid every pool, spring, puddle is alive with 
them. In the rain-drop or the dew-drop, there they are. The 
air is filled with them. To every blade of grass they cling in 
countless numbers. On the yellow-brown leaf you so tenderly 
gather; on the growing grain, the wet bark, the decaying: 
branch or trunk ; on the rocks that breast the sea, the floating: 
weeds, the shining shells; on and in other animals, great and 
small ; on and in each other, on our food, on and in ourselves, in- 
fusoria are living, or waiting to live. Deep down in mines they 
find a comfortable home. They ride on the iceberg, bathe in 
the hot spring, sweep from country to country on the wings 
of the fog. 

With what ease they come into life ! We know something' 



362 THE WORLD IN A DROP OF WATER. [June, 

of the generosity of nature in providing for the continued ex- 
istence of many insects. The queen of the termes bellicosus will 
lay 80,000 eggs a day. How small these figures appear along- 
side of those which tell of the reproduction of some varieties of 
infusoria! Think of a million new beings a day from a single 
parent ! And this is insignificant when compared with Ehren- 
berg's calculation of the productivity of a species observed by 
him 268,ooo,ooo"in a month ; nearly 9,000,000 a day. 

The provisions for this extraordinary productivity are mani- 
fold. The infusoria produce their kind in no less than five dif-. 
ferent ways. By fission, the parent cutting itself up lengthwise, 
or crosswise, or obliquely. Or by exterior gemmation, budding. 
From the parent a bud sprouts forth, grows to a certain size, 
drops off, develops rapidly into the parent form, and directly 
starts on an independent life. Or by interior gemmation. In 
this case the bud is formed within the animal, and remains there 
until a new animal is developed. Then it leaves the parent and 
" paddles its own canoe." Some species reproduce their kind 
by another process called sporulation. Suddenly from out the 
parent body there issues a stream of spores, which are carried 
away so rapidly and are so inappreciably small that their ex- 
istence is rather guessed at than seen. These spores, each a 
possible perfect animal, are invisible under a magnifying power 
of 15,000 diameters. Occasionally some particular infusorium 
threatens to withdraw from actual life. He seems to lose his 
vitalityfand to be preparing for death. Then a living organism 
of his kind meets him, attaches itself to him. He begins to live 
again and] to perform all the functions that marked his former 
life. 

Development from an egg or a spore we all appreciate, be- 
cause we see instances of it daily in plants or animals. But de- 
velopment by fission is strange to us. When a being divides 
itself crosswise or lengthwise, we know that one or both parts 
must be, for the nonce, incomplete. Is each part a true being 
of the same species as the undivided being ? Yes. As soon as 
the two incomplete parts are separated, each part reproduces 
the organsHt left on the other half of what was itself. Curious, 
indeed ! Though not more curious than the strangely scientific 
surgery practised by the crab, who will " spontaneously " re- 
place a stolen claw by a new one evolved out of what? 

Five minutes after the first sign of fission you will find two 
infusoria instead of one. Four to five hours after an invisible 
sporule has sped from the parent the sporule may have de- 



1889.] THE WORLD IN A DROP OF WATER. 363 

veloped into a complete being wholly like the parent. So great 
is the variety of the forms of these little animals that the micro- 
scopist seeks vainly for words that clearly describe their actual 
contours. Some are egg-shaped; some globular; others rod- 
like ; others peach-shaped or pitcher-shaped. Many are soft, 
plastic, without any outer covering or skin ; others again have a 
cuirass quite as tough as a lobster's. Some are all mouth, while 
some, more fortunate, have but one distinct mouth. And among 
the tiniest of these creatures there are few that are not provided 
with fine little tentacles, which are ever in motion, appropriat- 
ing food and conveying it to the animal. 

The facility, the plenteousness, with which the 'lesser infu- 
soria are reproduced is not more remarkable than their vitality. 
If a pond or pool or a stream dries up, the native infusoria do 
not lie down and die. They make themselves as comfortable as 
they can, go to sleep, and wait till the water comes back. Then 
they wake up and go on living. Or they fashion " cysts," little 
houses or cages, with which they cover themselves. There they 
sleep until the rain or the melted snows restore them to their 
element. Down goes the " cyst," and the inmate is a rover once 
more. Indeed, they encyst themselves often when they are dis- 
satisfied with the condition of things in their neighborhood. 
They go off, build the cyst, change their form, and so, hidden and 
transformed, live, hoping for better times. When these come 
around again the being takes its old shape, forsakes the cyst, 
and lives once more the life of a joyous infusorium. 

Should the water not return in good time to the puddle or 
the brook, are the little infusoria worried ? Not at all. Some 
friendly breeze or storm-wind will lift them from their dusty 
bed and carry them into the city's street, an open mouth, or a 
field of hay, grain, or stubble. There they will find moisture 
and decay, and will thrive on the one and the other. Low tem- 
peratures are fatal to many of the higher animals and plants. 
But many of the lower forms of animal and vegetable life are 
not killed by cold. Only heat, extraordinary heat, deprives 
them of life. Among the infusoria there are some whose spores 
will reproduce after they have been subjected to a temperature 
of from 250 to 300 Fahrenheit. 

As these little beasts are of all shapes, so they are of all colors 

-not forgetting those that are colorless. Often the surface of a 

pond is green solely because of the millions of some peculiar 

sort of infusoria that have settled there. In northern as well as 

southern seas brilliant color effects are produced by certain spe- 



364 THE WORLD IN A DROP OF WATER. [June, 

cies. For days the water takes on a greenish hue, and then 
gradually changes into a deep vermilion. Brownish rivers and 
lakes are not uncommon, and their color has been frequently 
traced to infusoria. In that learned and interesting book, The 
Pentateuch, published by the Rev. Dr. W. Smith just twenty 
years ago, there was a lucid explanation of the difficulties con- 
nected with the story of the seven plagues that came down upon 
Egypt, as narrated in Exodus. Dr. Smith showed that the var- 
ious phenomena described in Exodus were not uncommon in 
Egypt. What was miraculous was their appearance in rapid 
succession. Regarding the first plague, the change of the 
waters into blood, Dr. Smith quoted the testimony of modern 
travellers, showing that for some time before its great rise the 
Nile becomes putrid and of a green color. As the river rises 
the water grows yellow, then changes to a red, and remains red 
for ninety days, until the inundation has reached its greatest 
height. According to Exodus, " the fishes that were in the 
river died, and the river corrupted." 

Since Dr. Smith's day it has been discovered that the color 
of the Red Sea is due to a kind of infusoria living therein ; and, 
further, the phenomena of streams suddenly reddening, the wa- 
ters corrupting, the fish dying off, have been observed in more 
than one Eastern country. These facts have led some learned 
men to suggest, not unreasonably, that when " there was blood 
in all the land of Egypt" a plague of infusoria had settled on the 
waters of that land. 

The wonderful rapidity with which the infusoria increase, 
and the tenacity with which they hold on to life, may well make 
us ask why they are not even more numerous than they are. 
Nature has a way of making things even. The infusoria serve 
as food for other animals and for each other. There are species 
that feed on plants, and others that are meat-eaters. This latter 
class is very fond of its brothers, the vegetarians. Man most 
likely tramples millions under his feet as he walks through the 
mowed field or the green meadows. How careless we are about 
a sponge ! Nowadays they claim that sponges are true infusoria. 
Should this be so, the sponges are probably the only class that 
serve their true purpose dead as well as living. All the infusoria 
.are cleansers. They spend their lives in making over decayed, 
harmful things into good, useful things ; t cleaning up the reeds, 
the grasses, the water itself, our fields of hay, our own fluids, 
and muscles, and flesh. They live in and on us, quite without 
-our leave; serving us and, no doubt, occasionally hurting us, but 



.] THE WORLD IN A DROP OF WATER. 365 

doing- more real good than harm we may be certain. In them, 
as in many higher forms of animals, the most surprising trans- 
formations take place. Some of these changes have been care- 
fully studied, and the details must increase our admiration for 
the patience and the ingeniousness of the men who have unrav- 
elled such strange and unexpected complications, and fill us 
with a deeper sense of the majesty of the Creator, " all whose 
works are desirable.' 1 

It was St. Augustine who compared the curiosity of men to 
fishes wandering over the unknown depths of the abyss. To- 
day the figure is as pat as ever. And yet the curiosity of men 
often serves a good purpose, whether so meant or not. All the 
later studies of " curious ' men who have wandered over the 
depths of the abyss emphasize the falsity of the argumentation 
of the new school of scientists, who tried to seize the strong 
fortress of science with a storming-party of fanciful, frail deduc- 
tions. The more recent attempts to give new life to the theory 
of spontaneous generation were made in the interest of Darwin- 
ism. Eleven years ago Virchow, addressing the German Asso- 
ciation of Naturalists and Physicians at Munich, made this frank 
and interesting statement: "If I do not choose to accept a 
theory of creation ; if I refuse to believe that there is a special 
Creator, who took the clod of the earth and breathed into it the 
breath of life ; if I prefer to make for myself a verse after my 
own fashion (in place of the verse in Genesis), then I must make 
it in the sense of spontaneous generation. Tertium non datur. 
No alternative remains when once we say, ' I do not accept 
creation, but I will have an explanation.' If that first thesis is 
laid down, you must go on to the second thesis and say : ' Ergo, 
I assume spontaneous generation.' But of this we do not pos- 
sess any actual proof. No one has ever seen a spontaneous 
generation really effected, and whoever supposes that it had oc- 
curred is contradicted by the naturalist, and not merely by the 
theologian." 

The study of the infusoria, many of which, according to the 
present scientific classification, are placed only a little higher in 
the scale of life than Mr. Huxley's imaginary B at ky bices, has 
strengthened the position that the learned Virchow so clearly 
stated. Every one of these infinitesimal beings that has been 
observed is seen to be the offspring of a living parent, identical 
in form with that parent, kind of its kind. And he who prefers 
to make a verse after his own fashion, in place of that of Genesis, 
must still do so on the basis of an assumption which is contra- 



V 

366 CAN THERE BE SUCH A THING AS A MIRACLE f I June, 

dieted not merely by the theologian, but by the naturalist's 
facts. 

Once more, What is life ? Science has no answer. Revela- 
, tion anql right reason have a sufficient answer, both as to life 
and death, the beginning and the end. What science tells the 
reasoning, modest, studious man who holds science to her facts 
let Oswald Heer say. This indefatigable worker, who gave his 
life to the study of the flora and fauna of his native Switzerland, 
and whose writings have earned him a high place among modern 
naturalists, a few years before his death (1883) thus summed up 
the thoughtful results of all his labors : " The more we advance 
in the study of nature, the more profound also is our conviction 
that belief in an Almighty Creator and a Divine Wisdom, who 
has created the heavens Jand the earth according to an eternal 
and preconceived plan, can alone resolve the enigmas of nature 
as well as those of human life. Let us still erect statues to men 
who have been useful to their fellow-creatures and have distin- 
guished themselves by their genius, but let us not forget what 
we owe to Him who has placed marvels in each grain of sand, 
a world in every drop of water." 

JOHN A. MOONEY. 



CAN THERE BE SUCH A THING AS A MIRACLE? 

FROM the press of Longmans, Green & Co., London, 1889, 
has issued a small publication which, but for the circumstances 
of the time, might have passed almost unnoticed. It contains 
two sermons by Prof. T. H. Green, M.A., LL.D., Fellow of 
Balioi College and Whyte Professor of Moral Philosophy in the 
University of Oxford. What constitutes their special interest is 
the fact that they are the lay sermons which Mrs. Humphrey 
Ward makes Robert Elsmere attend, and which had so powerful 
an effect on him. That anything could be written by a gen- 
tleman of such a position and acknowledged ability not meriting 
serious consideration no one would assert. Our expectation of 
finding a great deal that marked the man of learning and the 
metaphysician has not been disappointed. What, in addition to 
the ability and the ingenuity they manifest, has impressed us 
particularly is the earnestness of Prof. Green, a great factor in 
arresting the attention and conciliating respect, if not enforcing 
assent. 



1889.] CAN THERE BE SUtH A THING AS A MlRACLE ? 367 

The remarkable feature, however, of these productions is 
the attempt to preserve the results and fruits of Christianity 
while doing away with the great facts upon which it was found- 
ed, an attempt similar to that which would cut from its roots a 
fine tree in full foliage in the expectation of keeping it always 
fresh and vigorous. They are noteworthy, too, in another sense 
as being the outcome of the systems which have constantly and 
persistently denied the possibility of miracles nowadays. By 
so doing there has been bred a habit of thought which has ren- 
dered Prof. Green's conception possible with many of those 
who belong, or have belonged, to the religious organizations 
which took form and shape after the beginning of the sixteenth 
century. This habit of mind rejects the supernatural, and re- 
jecting it now, by an easy procedure rejects it in the past. Mod- 
ern science, too, comes in as a most powerful auxiliary in foster- 
ing such a mental disposition ; though, to do Prof. Green justice, 
he scores scientific men for issuing from their legitimate sphere 
of positive demonstration when they seek to deny the spiritual 
existence, although he does accept their rejection of miracle, be- 
cause he and they do not admit of a variation from natural laws 
(p. 78). The process of denial has not stopped here. We do 
not think any one could be blamed for saying that the sermons, 
especially the one on faith, show the pantheistic leaning of the 
professor. We instance his words, p. 93, regarding the rejec- 
tion of the "anthropomorphic formulae in which we have been 
used to express to ourselves the presence and action of God as 
an external person moulding nature to his purposes, and inter- 
vening in it when and how he will " ; p. 95 : " It is yourself, not 
as you are but as in seeking him you become, that is his reve- 
lation *' ; p. 97 : " God is not something outside and beyond the 
consciousness of him, any more than duty is outside and beyond 
the consciousness of it." As Prof. Green, p. 78, intimates 
that science does not misunderstand " its nature and office in 
showing the supernatural to be a mere phrase to which no reality 
corresponds," as God only is the supernatural, it would seem to 
follow from his idea that God is merely a natural manifestation 
in human nature, by which he reveals himself in the soul ; in 
other words, the consciousness of one's self, of the higher and 
better thought, is the consciousness of God, which appears to 
identify God with the soul. 

But it is not so much with this or other points with which 
we cannot agree that we propose to occupy our readers to-day ; 
it is the scepticism which pervades the book which calls for 

VOL. XLIX. 24 



368 CAN THERE BE SUCH A THING AS A MIRACLE ? [June, 

remark, a scepticism which reassumes all that has gone before 
it, such as was to have been looked for in a man so well informed 
and so familiar with the works of the greatest opponents of 
revelation, and its teachings or dogmas. Whether the scepti- 
cism is a reaction against the systems which, while setting up 
the right of private judgment against the claims of the old 
church to teach with authority, arrogated to themselves the 
right to dictate what should be believed, and enforced their 
views by penalties, or whether it has come from a genuine loss 
of faith, or from some less worthy motive, matters little to our 
purpose. The fact is there, and it is with the fact we propose 
to deal. 

This scepticism may be said to be directed first against the 
accounts which tell of the beginnings of Christianity that is, 
against the Scriptures, especially of the New Testament ; and 
secondly against the facts narrated which in any way are 
looked upon as supernatural that is, wrought by God mediately 
or immediately, miracles. 

We assume that all fair-minded men are looking for the truth, 
and that as far as preconceived notions, which we more or less 
all have, permit, are prepared to accept truth fact ; to deny a 
fact is to deny the truth. The appreciation of a fact is another 
thing. In this century it is undeniable, and a glory of our day, 
that the critical art, the art of judicially discerning the value of 
documentary evidence, has reached great perfection, has cor- 
rected many errors, and has led to many discoveries, the end ot 
which we are glad to hope and believe is not yet. The more the 
light is concentrated on the Sacred Books of Christianity, the 
more they manifest their truthfulness. The immense mass of. 
evidence which for a long time lay hid from the general gaze, 
buried in the writings of great men of the past, having been 
judiciously sifted and brought forward, has to a very great ex- 
tent brought about greater trust in them as narratives, and 'has 
had the effect of blunting the shafts of hostile critics with all 
who, as Cardinal Newman has aptly put it, appreciate "that a 
difficulty is not a doubt." A man, for instance, may know a 
geometrical proposition is true, but may be ignorant of, or have 
forgotten, some step in the process of demonstration, which, 
however, he knows his teacher will show him. He has a diffi- 
culty, but no doubt of the truth. Just so must it be from the 
verv nature of the case with Scripture, which for the most part 
we have in translations, not in the original, and which among 
us is always read in the translation. In the original Greek 



1889.] CAN THERE BE SUCH A THING AS A MIRACLE f 369 

there are thousands of varying readings which create difficulties, 
and this is all the more felt, because few have knowledge of the 
ancient languages and the leisure absolutely necessary for such 
study. Yet whatever difficulty exists did not prevent Tischen- 
dorf from giving us his splendid editions of the Greek text, not- 
withstanding he was not a believer in Christianity, and did his 
work only as a scholar. To us it has always seemed that the 
sole authority of St. Jerome, despite whatever it is possible to 
say against him personally, was more than sufficient to compel 
assent to the genuineness of the Scriptures, so great was his 
learning, his knowledge of languages, of Hebrew and of Syriac, 
his opportunities on account of his contact with the Jews at 
Antioch and elsewhere, besides his fearlessness in saying .what 
he thought. 

To the aid of criticism comes archaeology. The impulse 
given to archaeological research in our day a Christian cannot 
but regard as providential. The discoveries of Layard at 
Nineve, of Schliemann at Troy and at Mycenae, the Cesnola 
Museum of New York, speak a language that rebukes the doubt 
of Niebuhr and of Dr. Arnold. As Mr. Thomas H. Dyer 
writes, in his History of the City of Rome : " There is little motive 
to falsify the origin and dates of public monuments and build- 
ings ; and indeed their falsification would be much more difficult 
than that of events transmitted by oral tradition, or even re- 
corded in writing. In fact, we consider the remains of some of 
the monuments of the regal and republican periods to be the 
best proofs of the fundamental truth of early Roman history." 
We think one could go farther, and warn people against reject- 
ing blindly the traditions of a nation or of a city. We once saw 
the prudence of this very strikingly. Those who visited Rome 
some twenty years ago or less, and spent any time there, were 
familiar with the figure of Baron Ercole Visconti. He was a 
clever and a learned man, and so regarded notwithstanding some 
amiable foibles, very pardonable. The Romans were inclined to 
think he put too much faith in Visconti. One day he identified 
himself with a tradition of the Roman people at which the 
more learned smiled. The tradition had it that the marble-yard 
on the way to St. Paul's-outside-the- Walls, and opposite St. 
Michele, was the site of the old Roman yard for the sale of 
marbles of various kinds. We well remember the laughter at 
his expense, and his friends gently twitted him. But his reading 
led him to think as he did, and having obtained permission of 
Pius IX. to make the requisite excavations on the public ground, 



370 CAN THERE BE SUCH A THING AS A MIRACLE ? [June, 

he began. It was not many days before all were amused at 
the result. The baron had found a graveyard. Deep down he 
had come upon a cemetery for slaves. But the inscriptions and 
the objects told him he was not much earlier than the middle 
ages ; so he kept on, and finally was rewarded by discovering 
the Emporium, with its wealth of precious marbles, and the 
perfect step going down to the water's edge, and the travertine 
block with the hole through which the hawser passed that 
moored the barges to the bank. 

If such things happen in regard to profane history, why 
should they not also occur with reference to sacred history? It 
is a fact that the history of Abraham and of the kings who with 
Chordorlahomor opposed him, and the history of Joseph, have 
received light and confirmation from the discoveries in Assyria, 
and from the hieroglyphs of Egypt. A sceptical spirit, therefore, 
in regard to history is unreasonable ; it is as reprehensible as a 
prudent reserve is commendable. Critical examination has pro- 
ven against all assault that the Scriptures are the most authentic 
and trustworthy books ever written, and the truth of the books 
of the New Testament has been borne witness to by thousands of 
Christians who sealed their faith with their blood at the very 
time when they were written, and received the name of martyrs 
precisely because they gave, in this way, testimony. 

The other point at which scepticism aims is the supernatural 
event narrated in the Bible. This is the main object of attack ; 
strip the Bible of everything miraculous, and there will be no 
difficulty in having it accepted, so much does its morality and 
beauty commend it to the admiration of all. Prof. Green ad- 
mires it, but in proportion to his admiration is his repugnance to 
the supernatural and miraculous, which is so great as to make 
him reject everything of the kind, the Resurrection included. 

The discussions on this subject have had for their result a 
certain indefiniteness of view with regard to what is miraculous. 
Recent writers have given definitions of a miracle, some of which 
it may be opportune to lay before the reader. 

" Miracles," says Mr. Gladstone in his criticism of Robert 
Elsmere, " constitute a language of heaven embodied in ma- 
terial signs, by which communication is established between the 
Deity and man, outside the daily course of nature and experi- 
ence." They are " an invasion of the known and common nat- 
ural order from the side of the supernatural' (Nineteenth Cen- 
tury for May, 1888, pp. 177-178). 

President James McCosh, in Our Day, February number, 



1 889-] CAN THERE BE SUCH A THING AS A MIRACLE f 

1889, P- H7> writes: "A miracle is an event with God acting 
immediately as a cause." These two authorities speak of Scrip- 
ture miracles, which they defend. His Eminence Cardinal New- 
man, as is well known, has written professedly a work on mira- 
cles. On page 7, ed. Pickering, London, 1873, he writes: 
" Miracles commonly so called are such events that is, for the 
most part as are inconsistent with the constitution of the physi- 
cal world." Miracles, according to these definitions, are not oc- 
currences of the natural order ; they are outside of it, above it, 
supernatural, even when the facts might occur by some natural 
event, as the bursting out of water by the splitting of a rock; the 
cause is what makes it a miracle, for the cause is God. 

We know of no book which so thoroughly shows the law of 
evidence as the New Testament. It records the words and the 
way of acting of Christ in bringing men to acknowledge his mis- 
sion. It is, therefore, a most interesting study in psychology. 
His whole life impressed his followers and gained their implicit 
confidence; he cited the prophecies regarding himself, and yet 
they did not fully comprehend ; indeed, " they understood nothing 
of these things." But he had one means that did produce con- 
viction and bring about belief; which still remained a gift of 
God. He said to his disciples, St. John v. 36: "The works 
which the Father hath given me to perfect: the works them- 
selves, which I do, give testimony of me, that the Father hath 
sent me"; c. x. vv. 37, 38 : " If I do not the work* of my Father, 
believe me not "; v. 38 : " But if I do, though you will not believe 
me, believe the works that I do." We may therefore supple- 
ment the above definitions by saying that a miracle is a sensible 
event or occurrence outside of the natural order, having for its 
author or cause God, and for its object to draw man .to God 
directly or indirectly. That such is the character of the Scrip- 
ture miracles no one can gainsay. Being occurrences of a sensi- 
ble nature, to be perceived by the senses, they are subject to the 
ordinary rules of evidence that regard facts such as are in use 
every day in the trial of criminal cases. It is a simple question, 
then, of fact. Did any one see it or not? If so, are the witnesses 
trustworthy ? If they are, then the fact must be admitted. It 
will not do for prejudice to endeavor to shut its eyes to such 
facts. They obstinately persist in being. It is hardly worthy 
of the gravity of the matter, but we cannot refrain from 
telling what we once heard narrated of an Illinois states- 
man. He was enthusiastically propounding his views, when 
suddenly the hard-headed man in the crowd interrupted 



3/2 CAN THERE BE SUCH A THING ASA MIRACLE ? [June, 

him with: "But, senator, the facts are against you." "So 
much the worse for the facts," was the reply. It will not do for 
Illinois statesmen nor any others to blind themselves to facts. 
Men are inclined to follow the laws of their nature, and they will 
accept a fact once they are certain the witnesses are to be 
trusted ; while the wilfully blind will always be a small minority. 
The most complete answer to the assertion that miracles are im- 
possible in the past as in the present is the proof of a miraculous 
event itself, and we close this article with two such occurrences,, 
one historical and the other of our day. 

One of the best known facts of history is the apostasy of the 
Emperor Julian from the Christian faith. He is known as Julian 
the Apostate. Cynical and full of hate against the Christians, 
whom he contemptuously styled Galileans, he used against them 
every influence at his command. In accordance with this policy, 
he turned against them the Jews, and showing the latter his fa- 
vor, resolved to re-establish them at Jerusalem and rebuild the 
temple ; thus hoping to show groundless the predictions that 
told of the destruction of the temple and the dispersion of the 
people who had put Christ to death. These prophecies are 
briefly : Daniel ix. 26-27 an d in the New Testament, Mat- 
thew xxiv. 2, Christ says to his disciples who came to show 
him the temple: " Amen, I say to you, there shall not be left 
here a stone upon a stone that shall not be destroyed "; Mark 
xiii. 2 : " There shall not be left a stone upon a stone that 
shall not be thrown down." The same words are found in 
Luke xxi. 6. Encouraged by Julian, the Jews set about the 
work with the greatest enthusiasm, wealthy women contributing 
their jewels, and even carrying sand in the silken drapery that 
adorned their persons. The work was thorough, the foundations 
of the old temple still existing were torn up, and " not a stone was 
left upon a stone." They then set about building. What fol- 
lowed we may give in the words of the pagan Roman historian 
Ammianus Marcellinus, whose itestimony Gibbon himself de- 
clares to be "unexceptionable": "Whilst Alypius, assisted by the 
governor of the province, urged with vigor and diligence the ex- 
ecution of the work, horrible bails of fire frequently breaking 
out near the foundations several times burned or scorched the 
workmen and rendered the place inaccessible. The terrible ele- 
ment continuing in this manner obstinately to repel every effort, 
the undertaking was abandoned ' (Ammianus Marcellinus, b. 
xxiii. c. i. The Christian writers of the period, the Fathers 
and the ecclesiastical historians, naturally do not fail to narrate 



1889.] CAN THERE BE SUCH A THING AS A MIRACLE? 373 

in detail what a pagan historian deemed so worthy of mention as 
to record it. They tell of the luminous cross that appeared in 
the sky, and of the crosses that shone on the garments of people 
in Jerusalem. Gibbon does not attempt to deny the fact ; but, as 
usual, he tries to destroy its weight by the remark that the " Ro- 
man historian, careless of theological disputes, might at a dis- 
tance of twenty years adorn his work with the specious and 
splendid miracle." Sneers are not facts ; this was a fact, and the 
friend and admirer of Julian would hardly have taken such a 
fact, that told of his failure, to adorn his pages with had it not 
been such a fact as struck the whole world and was on<the lips 
of every one. Michaelis and Milman, following Gibbon, try to 
explain away the event by suppositions of fire-damp; if they had 
lived till our day they would have said natural gas. That would 
have been a better attempt at explanation. But fire-damp and 
natural gas have a certain natural way of burning that ad- 
mits of control. This fire defied control and foiled the empe- 
ror, besides impressing all with the idea of a special intervention 
of Providence. Even were we to grant that the fire was from 
natural causes, the circumstances of the case make us see that a 
ruling Providence brought about the combination of natural 
causes which produced the fire and drove away the workmen. 
The event has the mark of miracle upon it; for, besides being 
unusual and astonishing, it added strength to the faith, and led 
to God, who was the author of what fulfilled the words of his 
Divine Son. So great was the impression made on all that this 
wonderful event may be said to have given the death-blow to 
pagan rule, for with Julian it disappeared from the Roman Em- 
pire for ever. 

But it may be more interesting to hear of a modern miracle. 
It may add to the interest to know that the writer has personally 
investigated what follows, has seen the man mentioned, and not 
only spoken with the witnesses, but examined and cross-ques- 
tioned them, having gone into Belgium for the purpose, recom- 
mended to the cure of Jabbeke, the Abbe Slock, by a Belgian 
prelate of high position. The i6th of February, 1874, Pierre de 
Rudder, living near Jabbeke, had his leg broken by the fall of a 
tree upon it. The tibia and the fibula were both broken at about 
the junction of their middle and lower thirds, say about five 
inches above the ankle. During ten years seven physicians tried 
to cure him. He would never allow the limb to be cut off. 
There was no bone lost, but there was in April, 1875, a suppurat- 
ing wound about an inch and a half to two inches in width, 



374 CAN THERE BE SUCH A THING AS A MIRACLE. [June, 

which permitted the ends of the bones to be seen, separated 
about three centimetres. What was worse, the wound was in- 
fested with gnawing worms, which on the 7th April of this same 
year, 1875, he tried to kill by putting on an oak-bark poultice. 
He could bend the lower part of the tibia at an angle to its 
upper part, and could turn the foot around and put the heel in 
front ; as a witness put it, " les orteils par derrieYe." As a mat- 
ter of course, his only means of movement was a pair of crutches. 
Humanly speaking, the case was hopeless. But De Rudder 
looked for help from above. He was sure Our Lady of Lourdes 
would cure him. So on the 7th of April, 1876, he went to 
Ghent, and thence to Oostaker near by, where, on the grounds 
of the Marquise de Courtebonne, there was an imitation of the 
Grotto of Lourdes with a statue of Our Lady. It was while 
praying here that day that Pierre de Rudder was instantly 
cured, ind he was seen walking about, without any crutches or 
support, by two hundred people that evening on his return to 
Jabbeke. His little son did not recognize his father because he 
missed the crutches, and after his father had reached his home 
and was seated, telling of what occurred, seeing his father rise 
up suddenly, fearing he might fall he cried out in terror : 
" Father, your crutches ! ' 

This is a fact the truth of which the writer vouches for, hav- 
ing already published an extended account of it. It is also given 
with more detail by M. 1'Abbe Emile Scheerlinck, of Ghent, in 
his Lourdes en Flandre. If such facts as these two have and do 
occur, is not Prof. Green too hasty in discarding miracle ? Are 
the theories of this gentleman and of the school to which he be- 
longs to be looked on as well grounded when such facts contra- 
dict them ? And on such a fanciful basis are we to reject the 
great fact of the Resurrection ? of which St. Paul does not speak 
in a spiritual sense, but in a most realistic sense of an absolute 
rising from the tomb of the man Christ, whose death had been 
officially recognized by the Roman governor Pilate, and who 
had appeared to the Apostles. i Cor. xv. 3-8, St. Paul 
writes : " Christ died for our sins according to the Scriptures : 
he was buried : he rose again the third day : he was seen by 
Cephas, after that by the eleven ; then by more than five hun- 
dred brethren at once; after that by James; then by all the 
Apostles; last of all also by me, as by one born out of time." 
How,-.with such words before him, with the other numerous pas- 
sages of the. Bible that refer to the fact, Prof. Green could have 
done away with the real bodily Resurrection of Christ can be 



1889.] ON ST. BARTHOLOMEW. 375 

explained only by the firmness of his conviction of its impossi- 
bility, equalled only by the strength of his desire to preserve all 
the beautiful effects of that Resurrection which constitute the 
Christian life Christianity. His mental condition is very in- 
structive ; it reveals to us the mystery of self-deception, against 
which even honesty, it would seem, is impotent. It should 
make us more and more fearful of ourselves, and thankful that 
there is, notwithstanding, the authority of the Christian religion 
to guide us in what St. Peter calls " the dark place* of this 
world. 

FRANCIS SILAS CHATARD. 



ON ST. BARTHOLOMEW, 

FLAYED OF HIS SKIN. 

" Why then is thy apparel red, and thy garments like theirs that tread in the wine-press ?" 
-Isai. Ixiii. 2. 



I. 



TRUE lovers will those colors choose and wear] 
With which e'en fairest beauty decks its charms 

And, worn for love, the faintest heart will dare 
Do deeds of valor with the weakest arms. 

'Neath love's red colors fighting wholly shorn 
Of beauty, Love bestows His own, and saith : 

" My colors which thou hast so nobly worn 
Now robe thee as a victor in thy death." 



II. 

Stript of my skin, of all my beauty rudely shorn, 
Love clothes me with the ruby mantle He had worn: 
And for my comfort whispers: " Thus my troth I prove, 
Skin deep all beauty lies. Far deeper still lies love." 

ALFRED YOUNG. 



376 PAUL RING WOOD: AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. [June, 



PAUL RINGWOOD: AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
A GLASS OF CIDER. 

" ROOM for me, Jack?' I asked, and, not waiting an answer, 
took my seat in the spring wagon. Jack smiled, nodded his 
head, and silently handed me the reins while he put some fin- 
ishing touches to the harness. That done, he jumped up to my 
side, relieved me of the reins, clicked his tongue, and now that 
we were spinning over the sandy road felt himself at liberty to 
remark that it was a fine day. 

" Dandy's chirp for a trot," he went on to say. " There an't 
a better trotter than Dandy off the track, an' not many better on 
it." He clicked his tongue again, and Dandy shook her head 
as if assenting to her master's praise. In places the road fol- 
lowed the river, then left it to take a short cut by peach 
orchards and neat farm-houses, again meeting the Severn at one 
of its many curves. Passing a red farm-house set in a clump of 
green willows, a woman came running after us, a letter in her 
hand. " O Jack Greene ! ' she screamed. Jack pulled up 
Dandy, turned the wagon about, and trotted back to meet the 
woman. 

" A letter to post, Mrs. Grigg ? " asked Jack. 

11 I'd be obliged to you if you would," said Mrs. Grigg, nod- 
ding her head to me as well as to Jack, as if she wished me to 
understand that she would feel obliged to me also. " Come up 
to the house," she invited heartily, " and taste our peach cider ; 
you're just welcome." 

Knowing that he would offend by refusing, Jack said we 
would taste the cider, but Mrs. Grigg must not get us anything 
to eat. I wanted to get down and give the good woman my 
place, but she said emphatically that she could walk, and there 
was no use in my cluttering my shoes for nothing. 

" That letter," Mrs. Grigg confided as she walked by the 
side of the wagon, " is for my folks to meet me at the station. 
I'm goin' to Cecilsburg day after to-morrow, to see a lady as is 
in a peck of trouble none of her blame, though. I an't seen 
her this five years. It's most ten since she was over to St. Mar- 
garet's, and had there a baby, which she, being delicate, couldn't 
nurse. You remember, Jack Greene, my Willy died ten year 
gone, and hearing of Mrs. Hethering ", 



.] PAUL RING WOOD: AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 377 

" Lord! the mare's goin' to run off! " Mrs. Grigg interrupted 
herself to shriek. I had struck the side of the wagon with the 
palm of my hand, making a loud report. 

" Please don't do that again, Mr. Ringwood," said Jack r 
aggrieved, when he had pacified Dandy. We were now at the 
farm-house door, and instead of answering Jack's appeal, I turn- 
ed to Mrs. Grigg as I got down from the wagon and asked : 
" You nursed Harry Hethering ? ' 

"Lord save us!' ejaculated Mrs. Grigg. "Do you know 
her? Come right in and get your cider first, and I'll tell you 
all about it." 

It took Mrs. Grigg some time to get the cider, for she said 
she must sugar down some peaches for us, because sugared 
peaches and peach cider went well together. And then she de- 
clared that it was the fortunatest thing in the world that she had 
a loaf of cake on hand, and we must taste it. 

" I just knew you'd want to give us a reg'lar set-out," grum- 
bled Jack, watching Dandy from the window. 

" If you don't try and overcome that temper of yourn, Jack 
Greene, I'll just tell Bessy Worth she'd better look out for some 
more peaceable man," threatened Mrs. Grigg, laughing good- 
humoredly. 

" Yes, you could make Bessy do anything you want ! Oh, of 
course ! " was Jack's sarcastic response. 

" Well, you. see !' And with this mysterious warning Mrs. 
Grigg placed chairs for us at a little round table. 

" Hester," she called to her little girl playing outside, " go 
down to the ice-house and fetch a lump of ice. There's a dear," 
she added, for the child hesitated before she ran off to do her 
mother's bidding. 

" Now, do eat and drink hearty," said this hospitable woman, 
"and I'll tell you all about Mrs. Hethering. Now it'll be in alt 
the papers, there an't no use in being secret. As I was saying 
when that fool horse started to run off " 

" If Dandy's a fool, there an't no such thing as sense," inter 
rupted Jack. 

Mrs. Grigg threw up her hands despairingly. " Bless the 
boy !" she cried, "can't he let a woman talk? As 1 was saying 
when that lamb" and she looked out witheringly at Dandy, 
who was apparently meditating another run " put the heart 
in my mouth, hearing of Mrs. Hethering wanting a nurse, and 
me just tight fixed for money, what with bad crops, sickness, and 
death, I bundled up my duds and went to see what [I could do 



37$ PAUL RING WOOD : AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. [June, 

for the poor baby. I wasn't expecting such a high-toned baby, 
but its mother and me took to each other immediate; and the 
baby was just my Willy to me. It was a mighty sickly baby, 
and its mother was a poor, frightened critter, and no wonder, 
with a brute for a husband. I an't going to deny it, I was 
taken in by that man. You'd just think he was honey extrack, if 
there be such a thing, as there is lem'n, vaniller, and the like. 
How that man did torment her, and she no better'n a baby her- 
self! Instead of his getting a divorce, it's a wonder he didn't kill 
her at oncet, only stranglin's too good for 'im, and may I be for- 
give for saying such ! And there be Parson Trombill talkin' of the 
blessed Reformation, and what that give, only divorces and Mor- 
mons, / don't know ; and 'twixt the two it's my opinion Mormons 
is a sight better, for leastways they're outright /^decent, and 
'tan't a bad thing to be fair and square even in devilishness. 
That's a strong word, but it do mean !" 

I was thinking much more of Elsie than of poor Mrs. Hether- 
ing as I said, " So Hethering is divorced from his wife?" 

u That's what Pm telling you," returned Mrs. Grigg. " I got 
a letter from his sister she's good as he's bad, a real common 
lady ' (in Eastern-Shore speech common is synonymous with 
affable) "asking me if I could take her and Mrs. Hethering to 
board fora while. Pm going to bring them down ; she says Mrs. 
Hethering's sick, and I just believe she is." 

" If you want that letter to go to-day, we've got to get," ex- 
claimed Jack, jumping up. 

I drank down my cider, feeling dully that I needed a tonic, 
and, thanking Mrs. Grigg, followed Jack out to the wagon. Jack 
was very silent and I very talkative. I remarked that the peach- 
trees were loaded with fruit, that the clouds seemed to be gath- 
ering for rain, that there was an unusual number of boats on the 
Severn, that it was a barbarism to sugar so luscious a fruit as the 
peach, that Dandy was going at the rate of a mile in five min- 
utes, that she would go much faster on a shell track; then sud- 
denly I cried: " Jack, I've got to get to Cecilsburg by to-night; 
is there any way for me to do it ?" 

CHAPTER XXXIX. 



A " STRAIGHT " WOMAN. 

Jack almost dropped the reins in his amazement. " To Cecils- 
burg to-night!" he exclaimed. 

" Yes, yes," I repeated in my impatience. " Is it possible ? 
What time does the stage leave Arnold's for the station ?" 



1889.] PAUL RINGWOOD: AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 379 

Pulling out of his trowsers- pocket an old-fashioned silver 
watch, he examined it and said: " Foolin' at Mrs. Grigg's, we've 
let the stage go, an' it's too late for me to drive you over to the 
railway at Sappington. I thought you'd stay the summer with 
us," he added after a moment's pause, a shade of disappointment 
on his face. 

" I'll return in a few days," I said hastily. " Is there nothing 
for me to do but wait till to-morrow, Jack ?" 

Urging on Dandy, who had taken advantage of Jack's neg- 
lect of her to fall into a very gentle trot, he said : " We'll get 
home about noon ; if this breeze holds on I can take you down 
to 'Napolis in the sail-boat. We can get to 'Napolis about five 
this afternoon, an' you can go up on the Pentz to Cecilsburg.'' 

I was profuse in my thanks to Jack, in a fever to get back to 
the farm-house. A faint hope I had that there might be a letter 
from Elsie at Arnold's was dashed. We scarcely spoke a word 
on the way back. So occupied was I with my own gloomy 
thoughts that I did not notice Jack's sombre silence. When 
we were nearing his father's house Jack turned to me and said : 
"Look here, Mr. Ringwood, I don't want you to think me med- 
dlin'; we have been good friends, chums like, an' I an't ungrate- 
ful for it, an' I don't want naught to come 'twixt us. You're in 
trouble, Mr. Ringwood, an' what I thinks isn't here nor there. 
But folks, Mr. Ringwood, as is some troubled are apt to be 
hasty, an' then, when it an't no use, they wishes they'd gone 
slow. You've been good to me, Mr. Ringwood, an' just cause 
of it I says, an' it's a liberty, I know, but I says with all my 
heart, Mr. Ringwood, don't be hasty." 

I looked at Jack, astonished. Actually there were tears in 
the honest fellow's eyes. I grasped his hand, and muttered 
something to the effect that I would take care of myself. It 
was only in after years that I discovered how nearly Jack un- 
derstood my trouble that day. 

II And now, Jack," I said, " don't say anything about my go- 
ing to Cecilsburg till I'm off." 

" All right," assented Jack, " I'll let them think we're just 
goin' for a sail." 

He was as good as his word, and, save for Mrs. Greene pes- 
tering me to eat my dinner, we got away very quietly. So 
stiffly blew the breeze that our boat fairly flew, at times cutting 
the water with a hissing sound. It took all Jack's time to keep 
her sails trim, so we had little opportunity to talk. The Pentz 
passed us before we reached Annapolis, and I suffered from the 



380 PAUL RINGWOOD: AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. [June, 

fear of losing her. She was crowded with excursionists, and the 
rousing cheer they gave us seemed to my excited fancy to be 
the cries of demons mocking my hopelessness. For was it not a 
hopeless thing I was doing in going to her? Perceiving my 
distress, Jack assured me that we would be in time. " She stops 
at 'Napolis an hour or so to let the folks see the sights. Look," 
he cried, shading his eyes with his arm, "that's the Naval 
Academy." 

I looked at what was a pleasant enough sight, the fairly well- 
built academy, the green lawns, the shaded walks, the water 
alive with rowing middies, their blue and white flannels gleam- 
ing in the declining sun. It was only when I bade Jack fare- 
well that I thought of his lonely trip back. " It did not occur 
to me before," I said when I had commiserated him. 

" Oh ! ' said Jack, " I'll stop over for the night with some 
friends I have here." 

1 suggested that perhaps he had come away without money, 
and took out my pocket-book. But Jack would not hear of it; 
he had something with him, he said. The bell of the Pentz was 
ringing, the excursionists hurrying over the gangway. Hastily 
grasping his hand, I hurried off, still afraid of being left. 

" Write if you're kept," Jack called after me. 

" Sure," I shouted back and was lost in the crowd. The 
young men on board appeared to be clerks off for a half-holiday ; 
the girls, city misses with their " mahs." A band on board 
played the Mabel waltzes, and under a lamp a priest read his 
breviary, whilst the young people improvised a dance on deck. 
There w r as a great deal of innocent amusement aboard, and I 
remarked, as I had often remarked it before, that if Americans 
are hard workers, they understand how to have a "good time ' 
one of the most charming expressions in the vocabulary, and 
only possible in a young community. It implies enjoyment al- 
lied to goodness. Let the English laugh at it as an American- 
ism. It has that glory. Compare their " jolly time " with our 
-euphonious "good time." Our word is as a tender melody to 
the soul. Theirs smells of a bibulous time. Bacchanals are 
jolly fellows. Not wishing to disturb them at the college, I put 
up at Barnum's. Fasting since breakfast, I felt faint, and gladly 
ate such supper as I could get, for it was well on to midnight. 
Though I slept all night, my sleep was so troubled that when I 
rose in the morning I felt as fagged out as if I had not been in 
bed at all. 

One of the first in the breakfast-room, I was quickly served. 



1889.] PAUL RINGWOOD : AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 381 

A cup of black coffee I found was all I could take. Gulping it 
down, I went out into the hot street, intending to go straight to 
Elsie, no thought of the earliness of the hour troubling me. 
Half a dozen newsboys crowded about me on the pavement, and 
to be rid of them I bought the Sun, mechanically folded it into 
a small compass, and thrust it into my pocket. For the first 
time in my life I hailed a cab, gave the driver the number of 
Hethering's house, and bade him drive quickly. Before reach- 
ing the house I perceived that its entire front was closed not 
a blind open from cellar to garret. At first I feared that they 
had gone away ; then, that I had come before any one was up. 
But as the cab drove up to the door I saw the slats of a blind in 
the first story opened. 

" I'm here," I thought, trying to laugh to myself. " Perhaps 
they'll take me for a madman coming at this hour." Paying the 
driver, I touched the electric bell. Whilst waiting, I heard a 
neighbor's maid taking, the morning milk remark to the milk- 
man : "He's in a mighty big hurry with his visit"; then they 
both laughed. At another time the attention I attracted would 
have annoyed me. This morning I did not care. As I was 
again about to ring the bell the door opened. It was Elsie 
Hethering who was waiting to let me in. 

" Have I come so early that Robert is still in bed?" I asked 
when I had entered and she had closed the door behind me. 
With all my might I strove to speak naturally and cheerfully. 

" Robert has gone away," she said. 

It was only now that I let myself look well at her. And I 
saw a woman with sunken, black-circled eyes, a woman with a 
white, sorrowful face, deathly white as contrasted with her black 
gown. 

" How you must have suffered ! " I cried. 

" Think of my poor sister, what she has suffered," Elsie said 
sadly. 

And all I could say or do was to strike my hands together 
and ejaculate : " You poor soul ! you poor soul ! 

Looking at me in wonder, she asked : " Do I need so much 
pity?" 

Unable to speak, I put my arm against the wall, resting my 
forehead on it. Elsie came to my side and asked in mild re- 
proach : " Must I have all the courage?' 

I still hid my face from her, for men are always ashamed of 
their honest tears. 

" Try to compose yourself," she said gently. 



382 PAUL RINGWOOD; AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. [June, 

It was with a great wrench that I turned ,a tolerably calm 
face to her. 

" The only room in which I can offer you a chair is Harry's 
old sitting-room. Shall we go there ?" she asked. 

I nodded my head, and following her, I saw that the house 
was bare of furniture. Even Harry's room had but a few chairs 
in it, a table, a work-stand, and a mirror. 

44 You are going away from here altogether? " I asked when 
we were seated. 

" This house and its furniture were settled on Mrs. Hether- 
ing ; they will be sold, they are all we have," she answered 
calmly. " There was some money that was to have been mine* 
if I married as my brother wished, or if I remained with him. 
He has given me my choice, to go to him or remain with his 
wife. I stay with Ethel. My brother having made his wife a 
most miserable woman, has now disgraced her. She has no one 
she can call a friend but myself." 

I entreated her not to think any one would suppose Mrs. 
Hethering in the wrong. She interrupted me to say that she 
was fully aware of what her sex thought of a woman whose hus- 
band had divorced her. I boldly begged her to remember the 
reputation Hethering had in the world called society. She said 
that she cared nothing for society ; all good women were not in 
that little world. Suddenly she exclaimed : " Is it possible in 
this great country that a man for a whim can drag so good a 
wife as Ethel Hethering into utter disgrace ? It is too mon- 
strous ! Fire and brimstone should destroy such a land ! ' 

Involuntarily I thought of Elsie Hethering as I had known 
her on the evening Hethering invited me to dine with him. 
Could that frivolous girl talking nonsense to my brother Bert 
be this woman so much in earnest over another's wrongs ? 

" You would not look so astonished," Elsie continued, " did 
you realize the hopelessness of Mrs. Hethering's future." 

" I do not believe the outlook so hopeless," I said. " I would 
not be here unless I believed there is a way of lessening this 
trouble for you." 

" Yes?" she said incredulously. 

Waiting a moment to fashion my speech in such a way that 
it would not give offence, I said: " There is a young man who 
is going out to New Mexico, after a time to have a ranch of my 
providing. Cannot we go there ? Cannot you be my wife, 
Elsie? I do not believe that you dislike me. You have told 
me I would forget ; I will never forget, Elsie." 



1889.] PAUL RINGWOOD : AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 383 

She looked at me so brightly that for a moment I thought it 
would be as I wished. But her face clouded, and she answered 
firmly : " I can only repeat what I have already told you ; I must 
remain with Ethel. Her means are very small, she is perfectly 
helpless " Elsie paused, but I readily rilled the blank. She 
would have to support Mrs. Hethering. 

" But Mrs. Hethering shall have a home with us," I said. 

" No," she returned decidedly. " You are poor, you have 
your way to make. How could I in conscience burden you 
with the care of two helpless women ? And I am helpless, I as- 
sure you." 

" You would be no burden to me, you or Mrs. Hethering. 
Elsie, you must be my wife " I stopped abruptly, fearing I was 
too imperative. 

She acted as though she had not heard me. Her hands 
clasped on her lap, she sat gazing thoughtfully out on the dusty 
street. The mournful plunk, plunk of a banjo strummed by 
some one in the back alley came through the half-open win- 
dow. A blue-bottle buzzed and stupidly banged itself against 
the pane. I moved ever so slightly in my chair, and it creaked 
disagreeably. 

It appeared to me that Elsie was thinking out an answer to 
what had become a demand. Something I once heard or read, 
that when a woman pauses to consider half a consent is gained, 
came to my mind, and I waited patiently. Plunk, plunk went 
the banjo ; buzz, buzz, bang went the great fly. How long we 
sat thus I do not know. Probably it was not for a long time, 
though it seemed very long to me. T was trying to think of 
some words with which to urge her, when the cathedral bell 
began to boom monotonously. I remembered that some great 
man was dead, but it was a little while before I could call to 
mind that it was an ex-mayor, and that this was the day of the 
burial. The banjo-player paused jn his strumming, and I could 
hear him calling to some one to go down the alley with him to 
see the hearse. " It's toney, you bet ! ' he proclaimed. 

There came now the muffled notes of a military band, the 
tolling of the bell above it all, above the shuffle of hurried steps 
on the pavement below. Elsie left her chair and closed the 
window softly. " The noise hurts my head/' she said simply. 
I now asked her if she had thought of what I asked of her, and 
pleaded gently but earnestly for myself. 

She answered me that she had been thinking ; that it could 
not be. " You don't know what you ask, and I don't think you 
VOL. XLIX. 25 



384 PAUL RING WOOD : AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. [June, 

know me very well how helpless, how useless I am. There 
never was a time, till very lately, that I thought of being- useful. 
Eihel's trouble has taught me something of the meaning of duty. 
It may make a straight woman of me." 

Who has not experienced a sudden return to the mind of 
something long forgotten? At that moment I remembered the 
passage I had read in St. Luke's Gospel years ago under the 
lamp of a railway-station, a passage telling of a woman made 
straight. I laid before her, brightly as I could, the prospect 
that was ours if we went to New Mexico, and dwelt at length 
on the wonderful climate of that territory and the wonders it 
might work for Mrs. Hethering. 

Having heard me through, Elsie said collectedly : u Mrs. 
Hethering's bodily health is tolerably good. It is her mind ; it 
is hopelessly lost. There ! I did not wish to speak of it. My 
brother is the cause of this, and what less can I do than take 
care of the poor woman he has brought into such misery? Now 
do you see a reason for my sending you away ?' she was asking, 
when there was a gentle knock at the door, followed by the 
entrance of the old negress who had helped to nurse Harry. 
Bobbing me a curtsy, she handed Elsie the morning mail. One 
letter was for Mrs. Hethering. Her face was white as she read 
the inscription on the envelope. When the negress had left the 
room she said huskily : " My brother has sent this." 

The envelope was opened and disclosed a slip cut from a 
newspaper. She read, her head bent, her hands trembling. 
Elsie was indeed a beautiful woman as, her eyes full of a won- 
drous patience, she handed me the paper to read. There were 
but two lines : " Married, by Rev. George Transom, Thomas 
Hethering, Nancy Shields." 

Letting my hands fall helplessly, I waited for Elsie to speak. 

" I was only a little girl when Ethel married Tom," she said, 
" but I remember very well how my father and mother wished 
for their marriage. Tom was not good, and they thought Ethel 
could make him so, and he broke her heart and drove her mad. 
May God forgive him ! What is that?" she asked in a startled 
way. 

It was the military band returning from the funeral. No 
longer muffled, it was gaily playing the Faust March. The 
crash of the brass instruments was lessening in the distance 
when the door again opened, and Mrs. Hethering came in slow- 
ly. She stared at me, then smiling, timidly said : " Ah ! a 
stranger. Can you tell me why Rachel mourned ? The pro- 



i?9- PAUL RINGWOOD: AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

position cannot be worked by any of the given rules. Elsie! 
Elsie ! " she cried nervously. 

" I am here, Ethel." And Elsie put her arm about the poor 
mad-woman and drew her to a chair. " Elsie," she was saying-, 
" I can find no daisies ; we must go to the fields." 

" Yes, dear, in a few days," said Elsie soothingly. " Will 
you have the picture-book ? ' 

Mrs. Hethering nodded her head eagerly, and when Elsie, 
brought her a book of engravings she forgot us in the pictures, 

** Ethel remembers no one but me," said Elsie; " sometimes \ 
think she remembers Harry, for she makes his examples as she 
used to do. Paul " I smiled gladly, but for a moment " now 
we must say good-by. God bless and prosper you, Paul ! * 

She shrank back and covered her face with her hands. 

" I hope, Elsie," I whispered to her, and then I went away. 



CHAPTER XL. 
PAUL RINGWOOD RESOLVES TO SEEK HIS FORTUNE. 

Yes, if I were determined, and I was, to make Elsie Hether- 
ing my wife and settle down, there was every reason for me to 
look about getting together wherewith to settle down on. In 
what better way could I go about this than to go to a sheep- 
farm with Jack Greene ? If he without a capital to begin on saw- 
success before him, I felt that I would be faint-hearted indeed 
to doubt for myself. Elsie was right in saying that as things 
were it would be impossible for us to marry. Two years, three 
years of waiting, what were they ? I thought on my way to the 
college. I was young and sanguine, and felt sure that when I 
again saw Elsie and told her what I was about to do, she would 
send me on my way with a prayer for my success and a promise 
of something to work for. I went straight to Father Lang's 
room to acquaint him with my plans. 

Though he showed in his manner much surprise at my news, 
all he said was : " So you want to leave us, Ringwood ? ' 

" Don't put it in that way," I interrupted. " It is not the 
wanting to leave you ; it is the necessity of providing for my 
future." 

He looked steadily at me for a moment, then smiling, said : 
" I understand. Remember always, should you tire of New 
Mexico your home is here." 

It was very kind of Father Lang, and I said so heartily, 



386 PAUL RINGWOOD: AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. [June, 

though I stoutly scorned the idea of my tiring of the work I 
was planning to do. 

"Father Clare is at home ; have you seen him?" asked the 
rector. 

" No," I answered, starting for the door. " I'll go now ; I did 
not know he was home ; I only came up from the Greenes' last 
night; it was so late when I got to the city that I put up at Bar- 
num's. I go back to-morrow." 

" I hope this Jack Greene has not been putting foolish no- 
tions into your head. Tell Father Clare all your reasons for this 
-sudden move ; you haven't told me " I reddened consciously 
*"and be guided by his advice. Don't be rash, Ringwood." 

Jack Greene had given me the same advice, I said, only more 
lengthily. Then I went to Father Clare. 

He greeted me warmly as always, my father, and made me 
take his arm-chair by the window. 

" You are brown as a berry, Paul," he said, holding my hand 
and looking me full in the face. 

" I'm spending the vacation down at the Greenes' ; one-half 
the time I'm out on the water." Then I told him of my plans 
and my reasons for forming them. I fully expected Father 
Clare to chide me for not having followed his advice, for in 
some degree being the cause of Tom Hethering's throwing off 
his sister Elsie. After all, I knew my father very little. It was 
like him not to refer to the last, and but remotely to the letter 
he had written me. There was no objection now on the score 
of a difference in our fortunes to my marrying Elsie Hethering, 
he said. " From what you tell me, Paul, you will have to wait 
a long while before you can marry. Have you bound your- 
selves in any way to wait ? ' he asked. 

It was with no little awkwardness I confessed that in words 
she had refused to be my wife. After telling him this I had 
great difficulty in making him enter ever so little into the hope- 
ful view I took of things. 

" I am glad there is nothing like a betrothal," he said. 
" There are long years before you ; you may change your mind 
before the end of them now do let the old man have his say ; I 
know human nature better than you do, Paul. It won't hurt 
matters, your going out to New Mexico without any binding 
promise having been made. If you are constant, all will be well 
that is, if she really cares for you." 

I modestly gave my reasons for thinking she cared for me. 
They were not very many, it is true. 



PAUL RINGWOOD: AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 



387 



Father Clare smiled and said gently: "Well! well! we'll 
see. You know you have my best wishes. And about this 
life in the wilderness : I know very little of the kind of life a 
sheep-farmer leads ; I fancy it is one of great hardships, but I 
think you have stamina enough for it." And he nodded his head 
approvingly. 

" I will have a fine specimen of muscular Christianity with 
me ; a look at Jack Greene will hearten me should I feel like 
giving up," I said, smiling as I thought of Jack's athletic frame. 

" Will you go soon ? ' asked Father Clare. 

" As soon as Jack's ready, and that will be immediately," I 
replied. 

" I shall be sorry to lose you, Paul ; we may never meet 
again in this world," the priest said, a strain of melancholy in 
the tones of his clear voice. We fell into a silence which neither 
seemed to know how to break. This could not last long with 
me in my present state of excitement. It was I who broke the 
silence by saying I would go to my room and look to the pack- 
ing of my things. 

Dear Father Clare! how he wrung my hand when I left him ! 



CHAPTER XLI. 
A LETTER. 

The next morning, as I was finishing the packing of my trunk, 
a letter was brought to my room. Hastily clearing a chair of a 
bundle of shirts waiting to be packed, I sat down to read it. 
It was from Elsie Hethering. Beginning abruptly, she said as 
nearly as I can recall her words, for I no longer have the letter: 

" 1 fear I have been the cause of some unhappiness to you, 
and for this I wish to beg your pardon. I feel deeply your 
silence when I was supposed to be a rich and happy girl. I was 
neither one nor the other, as you now know. Yet you supposed 
me so, and thought yourself unworthy of me. It was only 
when all this trouble came on Ethel and me that you offered to 
burden yourself with my miseries. For this very reason, your 
unselfishness, it is very hard for me to have to tell you that you 
must give up all thought of me. I have but your welfare and 
happiness in view when I say that there can be no question of 
our marrying. When I think of the misery such a marriage 
would bring on you I wonder much at your wishing for it a 
wife, the best part of whose time (the time she should have to 



388 PAUL RINGWOOD : AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. [June, 

devote herself to you) would have to be spent in watching over 
a poor witless woman. Forget me. You know that we are 
going to stay with Mrs. Grigg for a while. You are living near 
by her. Please do not try to see me. Our meeting can only 
make more unhappiness. You would not wish to be the cause of 
my having to take Ethel away from a place where we can live 
quietly for a time ? 

" We can always pray for one another. I, at least, shall always 
pray for the welfare of Harry's friend, of the friend of 

"ELSIE HETHERING." 

I was in my shirt-sleeves, my braces dangling loose, as I went 
down the corridor to Father Clare's room with Elsie's letter in 
my hand. I opened the door of his room, forgetting to knock, 
and exclaimed : " Father, you are right ; she does not care for 
me ; read this, it came a few minutes ago." 

Father Clare looked up from his book in surprise, for I must 
have cut an odd figure, and said, taking the letter I handed him : 
" Sit down, Paul." 

When he had read what Elsie had written he asked : " What 
do you mean, Paul, by my being right ? I was wrong. I fear 
she has turned your head with her praise of you." 

" Has she praised me?' I exclaimed. 

" It is good to be young, and you are very young, Paul," re- 
sponded Father Clare. 

" I may be an ass " I began. 

" Hush, Paul ! ' he interrupted. "Calling one's self names is 
cheap humility. You may rest content; Elsie Hethering cares 
very much for you." 

" But you cannot have read her letter ; she won't even let me 
see her." 

" Paul, I suppose you have come for advice. Well, here it 
is: Go ahead as you proposed yesterday. Make a home for 
yourself. She will be true enough. Then, when your home is 
made, come and claim her. It will be all as you wish, only have 
patience." 

I talked it over with my friend, and the result of this talking 
was that I wrote to Elsie, telling her what I was going to New 
Mexico for, and that when this was accomplished I would come 
for my wife. I wrote confidently, for I was strong of heart from 
Father Clare's words of hopeful counsel. I sent this letter the 
same day, before I started on my return to the Greenes'. 



1889.] PAUL RING WOOD: AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 389 



CHAPTER XLII. 
FAREWELLS. 

Jack Greene's satisfaction when he heard I was to be his 
companion to New Mexico was expressed in a very extraordi- 
nary manner. He laughed, shook me by the hand, roared a 
snatch from the chorus of a fishing-song in short, did every- 
thing but weep and hug me, for his English instincts prevented 
indulgence in these latter items of excitability. There was 
much to be attended to, arranging money matters, buying such 
things as we thought would be needed in the land to which we 
were going. All this involved a great deal of running to and 
from Cecilsburg, innumerable trips to Arnold's. Jack alone 
went to Arnold's. I carefully avoided going in the direction of 
Mrs. Grigg's farm. One visit I paid to Philiopolis. Before 
going to see any one there I went out to Allemaine to have a 
last look at the old home. I found the place was rented to a 
family, and I did not enter the grounds. There was a noise of 
romping children in the garden my mother had so loved, and the 
gravel paths had a neglected look. It was Indian summer, and 
the trees had on their fall leaves, their moss-grown roots strug- 
gling out of the ground over the fast-yellowing grass. I in- 
wardly thanked the one who had left the great house-door open, 
allowing me to see the old familiar interior. Hidden by a clump 
of bushes from the view of any one in the house, I felt myself 
free to stand there gazing on what was once my own in part. I 
thought pityingly of Bert. Thinking of his wasted life, my own 
took on a gray tinge that made my looking into the future but a 
sad task. As I stood thus the sound of my mother's organ 
came to me, mingling with the sough of the wind among the dry 
leaves. It was no fancy, some one was playing the Cradle-song 
of Chopin. With the melody in my ears, I went back to the 
station to wait the coming of the train, going the road I had 
stumbled over when I left home an innocent boy six years ago. 
Then it had been knee-deep in snow ; now it was dusty, the gray 
dust rising in clouds at every puff of wind. 

Need it be said that the welcome given me by Nurse Barnes, 
Mrs. Link, and Ned Link's wife was a hearty one? Ned was 
not yet home from the warehouse, and very glad was I when his 
wife informed me, twittering with innocent pride in her mate, 
that now Ned had an interest in the business. But young Mrs. 



390 PA UL RING WOOD : AN Au TOBIOGRAPH K. [ J u n e. 

Link's greatest pride was centred in my namesake, little Paul 
Link, a chubby innocent of an age to believe the astronomical 
fable of the moon's being made of green cheese. Nurse Barnes 
I found to be a lady of consideration in the neighborhood. 
"Laws, child!' she said to me, "it's a caution the respect folks 
have for a bit of money." 

It was only when Ned came home that I told them this was 
to be a farewell visit. Loud were their exclamations of wonder 
when I informed them that I was going to New Mexico. Nurse 
Barnes bewailed with tears that now the last of the family was 
leaving her for ever, " The only consolation I've got in it is 
that you're going away from them Jeswits not but what red 
Injians are worse ; and r Master Paul, do you wear your flannels 
regular; they have blizzards out there, and I've heard tell the 
heat in summer on them prairies is torpic." Nurse Barnes fin- 
ished her sentence, possessing none of the qualities of a well- 
conducted period, with a gasp. 

We spent a pleasant evening r only no-w and then Nurse 
Barnes would lapse into melancholy. It was only after she had 
drank a glass of the apple-toddy, remarkably well-concocted by 
Ned's wife, that she put aside dull care altogether. 

" It's a wonder to me," said old Mrs. Link, " that none of the 
Gugginses have been down. I sent them word of Mr. Ring- 
wood's arrival; something must be the matter." 

We were leaving for bed when Ned r s mother made this 
remark. Nurse Barnes tilted her bed-room candle and said, her 
nose in the air : " Oh ! don't be concerned \. that Glass woman's 
bound to turn up." 

Then I went to bed, wondering at the enmity that seemed to 
exist between nurse and Mrs. Glass. The next morning we 
were still at breakfast when there was a violent ringing at the 
door-bell, followed by some one bursting into the passage and 
then into the room where we were eating. 

"Where's that rebel uv mine?' cried Mrs. Glass, for she it 
was. One moment her arms were about my neck, the next she 
had both of my hands in hers, shaking them for dear life. The 
very attire of Mrs. Glass seemed to be excited. Her bonnet was 
awry, one end of her shawl was over a shoulder, the other 
drawn under an arm. 

"Did you get my note?' asked Ned's mother when at last 
Mrs. Glass was seated with some breakfast before her. 

" In course ! ' exclaimed Mrs. Glass, " but, es luck ed hev et, 
we uns wus to th' theatre. Mrs. Guggins wus mos' to bed when 



1889.] PAUL RING WOOD : AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 391 

she foun' et on th' wash-stan', She hollered acrost th' passage 
t' let me know, an' I an't hed no res' tel I got heah." 

I had noticed that Nurse Barnes treated Mrs. Glass with 
marked condescension, and now she said, looking pityingly at 
that good woman unconsciously picking a fish-bone : " You re- 
member, Master Paul, the beautiful salver Mrs. Ringwood had 
her letters brought to her on? " 

Mrs. Glass looked about her in a dazed way and almost 
choked herself with her coffee, while I ardently wished Nurse 
Barnes would not make herself unpleasant with her retentive 
memory. Later in the day Mrs. Glass confided to me: " Miss 
Barnes es dreffle offish, sca'ce a-noticin' uv me. Maybe we uns 
an't es gran* es you uns wus ; I don't know, an' I don't jest keer ; 
but I knows thes yer, them Guggins hes good hearts, an' hearts 
es beyon' all en thes worl', honey." 

As I agreed altogether with Mrs. Glass, she was restored to 
a peaceful frame of mind, and was willing to put up with nurse's 
vagaries if I only sided with her. It was a day of wild dissipa- 
tion. Mr. and Mrs. Guggins, and Walker, not grown an inch 
taller, ate dinner with us, a dinner provided by Ned's wife, 
and one that was fit to set before the President. After tea we 
went to the Academy of Music to hear " Mignon." Kellogg, I 
remember, sang charmingly, but acted wretchedly. The opera 
over, we went to Mr. Guggins' house to eat an oyster supper. 
At this feast Mr. Guggins produced two bottles of what he 
called Samian wine. He said that he had bought it from a Turk 
who was going to exhibit at the Centennial. 

Whether it is the quality of Samian wine to fizz like Jersey 
champagne and to taste like vinegar-water is a question. It is a 
fact, however, that all agreed that the wine was ** splendid." 
Mrs. Guggins declared that it made her feel quite Oriental ; one 
bottle satisfied our cravings, and we were unanimous in entreat- 
ing Guggins not to open the other. Mrs. Link exclaimed that 
what she had taken had gone to her head, while I was sorry to 
feel that my glass had gone to my stomach. Mrs. Guggins, be- 
fore we separated, started " Auld Lang Syne," and even Walker 
joined in the lugubrious chorus. Once again my little host of 
friends came to the Philiopolis station to see me off. This time 
we felt the farewell to be an everlasting one as far as this world 
is concerned, and as the great city was lost in the distance I 
leaned back in my seat, feeling very much as if I had been to a 
funeral. 



392 PAUL RING WOOD: AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. [June, 

CHAPTER XLIII. 

A CLOUDLESS LAND. 

i 

I had knelt to receive Father Clare's blessing for my jour- 
ney, and my hand was now clasped in his. " Paul," he said, 
" the knights of old, when they went forth to battle, had no 
thought but of victory, no fear save the fear of shame. And 
those who fought well were those whose hearts were pure. All 
is not gained, my son. But, Paul, have no doubt and keep your 
soul white, then this ' God be with you ' will be no farewell ; 
rather a sign of our meeting again. Good-by, my dear son." 
And then he closed the door behind me. Thus I crossed the 
portal of a new and strange land. 

In those days the railway went no further than El Moro, in 
Colorado, leaving still some hundreds of miles to be made in the 
stage-coach or private conveyance. At Pueblo, Col., we had to 
take the narrow gauge to El Moro. It was on this way that I 
got my first good look at the "Rockies." A cold, frosty after- 
noon in early October the train, rattling through a forest of 
pinons, emerged suddenly to run along the edge of a steep de- 
scent. In the far distance the two Spanish peaks towered per- 
pendicularly, their snow-caps red in the setting sun. At El 
Moro we took the coach for Trinidad, where we were to put up 
for the night, hoping to find a wagon of some kind on the fol- 
lowing day to carry us and our luggage to Las Vegas. It was 
a beautiful starlight night, but all I know of the country through 
which we passed is that it is hilly, thickly wooded with pines, 
and at that time was white with what had been a heavy fall of 
snow. 

Jack expressed a great deal of disgust that we were in the 
midst of winter where he had expected to find perennial spring. 
This was at the supper-table of the inn at Trinidad. 

" Consider the altitude," I said. 

Jack stared at me. 

" The height of this place, way up among the mountains," I 
explained. 

Here the inn-keeper interposed : " If you gentlemen are going 
to New Mexico, as soon as you cross the Raton you'll have a 
change of climate." 

" Warmer?" asked Jack. 

"You bet!' ejaculated the inn-keeper. Jack gave a grunt 
of satisfaction and fell to eating his supper with much relish. 

We found so much difficulty in procuring a conveyance to 



.] PAUL RING WOOD : AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 393 

carry us on that, much as we disliked the idea, we had almost 
concluded to wait for the stage-coach when we were informed 
by the hostler at the inn that a certain Will Adams was going 
down 'Vegas way, and he might give us a lift. 

" I an't sa'yin' for certain," said the hostler, " but he might. 
There an't no harm in askin'." 

He then volunteered to show me where this Adams lived, 
leading the way up the rambling street to a house standing in a 
garden. A pretty enough place, only it looked dreary in the 
winter. The young man was not at home, but we saw his 
father, a hale old gentleman, who had married a Mexican wife 
and settled in Trinidad forty years ago, he told me. 

" I don't doubt but Will '11 be glad enough to have com- 
pany," he said, " but if you'll wait you can see him yourself; 
he'll be home soon." 

As I had nothing to do but to wait, I was particularly willing 
to sit and talk with Mr. Adams, hoping to get new information 
about the country to which I was going. I have since found 
out that it is useless to expect a Westerner to give you anything 
but praises of his country. A peculiarity about the praise given 
New Mexico is that it is invariably given to the climate. It is 
a glorious climate, more than atoning for the lack of many 
things in the Territory. After having sat for nearly an hour, 
fearing that I might be in the old gentleman's way, I suggested 
that his son come down to the inn and take supper with me. 
He would then see my chum, and we could talk the trip over. 

" Hark ! " said Mr. Adams, " I think I hear Will now. Nick ! 
Nick ! " 

At his call a handsome boy came running into the room. 

" My boy," said the old man with reasonable pride. " Nick, 
see if that's Will in the stable, and tell him I want him." 

A few minutes later a young man much like Nick, only man- 
lier, entered the room. He bowed to me, and waited for his 
father to speak, 

" Will," said Mr. Adams, " this gentleman and a friend want 
to get to 'Vegas. Have you room in the turnout for them ? ' 

The young man considered a moment, then asked : You 
have considerable traps, I suppose?' 

I answered that our baggage was not small, but that a part 
might be sent by the carriers. 

" That's the mistake a tenderfoot always makes," the young 
man said, smiling; " he brings a sight more things than he can 



ever use.' 



394 THE CHILDREN OF THE POOR. [June, 

At last, to my great satisfaction, it was settled that Jack and 
I were to have seats in the turnout. When I spoke about pay 
neither father nor son would hear to anything of the kind. At 
last, however, I got them to agree that I should pay the charges 
at all stopping-places and a certain sum for the transportation of 
our luggage ; our heavy luggage to be brought on by carriers. 
Jack was as rejoiced as myself at the prospect of our getting 
on our way. The next morning before day-break we were 
crossing the Raton, and by noon seated on a bit of greensward 
by a spring, under the bluest sky that can be seen anywhere 
above God's good earth. Away to the south were miles of 
yellow grass, sun-gilt and billowy under the current of a soft- 
blowing gale. Away to the west were the Sierras standing out 
against the sky, not the breath of a mist or the trace of a cloud 
to obscure their majestic outlines. We were spreading our 
luncheon on the grass when Jack declared emphatically : " This 

beats Terra Maria all hollow ! " 

HAROLD DIJON, 

[TO BE CONTINUED,] 



THE CHILDREN OF THE POOR. 

AT Christmas-time last year a man of rare fortitude and 
amiability was dying of a terrible malady. His only earthly 
solace lay in preparing a happy Christmas for poor children, 
especially for those whom most charitable societies and individ- 
uals forget, the children of the undeserving poor, that for once 
in the year they might fare like other young people. He roused 
himself from the gathering stupor of death to ask, '* Are the 
presents ready for the children?*' When all was prepared an 
anonymous Santa Claus went about, leaving mysterious bundles 
among groups of amazed youngsters, and came back to report 
the success of the expedition. The sick man smiled and settled 
himself down to die, having only lingered to hear that some 
dozen little people had had a merry Christmas. 

The children of the poor, of the undeserving poor or the 
shiftless poor, or of the poor people so handicapped with adverse 
circumstances that the only goal they can ever reach is heaven, 
which is fortunately attainable even to those not possessed of 
what we call in New England " faculty " ; these children are not 



1889.] THE CHILDREN OF THE POOR. 395 

only destitute of all that makes life pleasant, but they are in 
deadly peril, and, unless saved betimes, they are destined to be- 
come a perilous element in the community. 

Whatever the newspapers may say, the public-school system 
will not save them. The illiterate now form only a small por- 
tion of the prison population in certain States where crime in- 
creases in spite of the increasing number of those who can read 
and write. An education in a good public school, added to 
moral and religious training at home, will make good boys and 
girls ; but I am speaking of children who are not under judicious 
influence at home. Parochial schools with a corps of efficient 
teachers will do much to preserve the virtue of our Catholic 
youth ; newsboys' homes, friendly societies, orphan asylums, 
protectorates, all are of great use; but something more is needed, 
and that need must be supplied by you and me and every person 
with time and intelligence not wholly devoted to some duty even 
more important. It requires no extraordinary outlay of money 
or leisure on the part of any sensible person to save several chil- 
dren from sorrow and probable ruin. 

Every child wants a personal friend, and if he does not find 
that support in his own home he should find it elsewhere: some 
one to be glad when he does well and to show regret if he does 
wrong or is unhappy ; above all, some one who will give him that 
sweetest of parental benefactions, unfailing patience. If we 
place a child in a good asylum and leave him there indefinitely, 
to be known by a number and to become one of a well-disci- 
plined and kindly-treated herd of children, we have not done 
enough. He should be visited from time to time and allowed to 
make an occasional visit; he should have his own little bit of 
pocket-money and his own especial present at Christmas-time. 
A sense of possession is very precious to children. An orphan 
in an asylum told me once that though she was not allowed to 
wear the bright-colored neckties and other trjfles given to her, 
she kept them in a box and had great satisfaction in looking at 
them now and then. In a children's home that I know the little 
inmates have each a blank-book with a pencil fastened to it by a 
long string, and these they call " My very, very own." So let 
children have something for their very, very own; it is little 
enough they are ever likely to possess of earth's pleasant things. 

Watch for the moment when the good influence of training 
in an asylum has done its work, and then place the child in a 
family, either as a boarder with some motherly woman who has 
shown ability in bringing up her own children, or in a household 



396 THE CHILDREN OF THE POOR. [June, 

where he can do light work and still go to school. To " institu- 
tionize ' a child, as the saying is, makes him as completely a 
spoiled child as any that are reared in luxury. He will cling 
helplessly to his guardian and suffer from contact with the world 
almost as much as the children of the rich would do if thrown on 
their own resources. 

This kindly guardianship of orphan children may be safely 
entrusted to young people who have leisure and good spirits to 
bring to the service. There are no risks to be incurred by visit- 
ing a child in an asylum or in a respectable household, none of 
the complications that may well make a careful mother hesitate 
to let her daughter enter upon indiscriminate visiting among the 
poor. A habit early acquired of working with so definite a pur- 
pose makes a young girl punctual and business-like and fits her 
gradually to bear heavier responsibilities. 

Persons of experience must take charge of those unfortunate 
children who have bad parents, for, willing as such fathers and 
mothers are to get rid of the care of their offspring, they stretch 
out an evil hand to draw back a son or daughter who is old 
enough to be useful. The position of legal guardian can be 
easily obtained, but it is not a pleasant tie, for it gives that kind 
of claim to authority which is as likely to rouse rebellion as to 
enforce submission. The law should be called in only as a last 
expedient. With moderate prudence one will almost surely keep 
a child out of the criminal class and make him a harmless mem- 
ber of society. If he has naturally a good disposition and fair 
abilities, the result will be very satisfactory, unless he has bad 
relatives to exercise an evil influence. 

One child who came under my care at six years of age has 
become a good and useful woman, whose friendship I value. 
Several boys and girls have married respectably. 

Some years ago a pretty, delicate child came to our parish 
priest and asked to be placed in some situation where she could 
attend regularly to her religious duties. The kind Protestant 
lady with whom she was living had advised her to consult the 
priest and abide by his decision. The little creature had suf- 
fered much from tyranny from a former mistress, and she was 
attached to her present employer, so that her desire for a change 
came only from the highest motives. She was one of those 
marvels in virtue that show that Oliver Twist is true to life. 
Tyranny and neglect had not altered the sweetness or purity of 
her nature, but it had ruined her health. She was placed with 
her younger sister under the care of the Sisters of Charity, and 



1889.] THE CHILDREN OF THE POOR. 397 

had a short period of exquisite happiness. She said : " This is 
like home; we are so happy, Mamie and I." She died within a 
year or two ; her sister was afterwards taken home by relatives 
whose circumstances had become easier and responsibilities 
fewer with time, and she is now comfortably provided for. 

That the work has its unpleasant side I will not deny. It is 
disconcerting- when a youth whom you believe to be in the 
English army in India suddenly appears before you as if he had 
risen out of the ground from the Antipodes, as impecunious, as 
shiftless, as harmless and hopeless as when you parted from him 
six years before. He can travel over half the known world and 
serve three years in the army, and learn nothing, not even to 
stand up straight. It is something to know that he is only a 
simpleton, not a criminal, though his villainous father has thrown 
every temptation to crime in his way. 

Inherited weakness is so sad an obstacle to success in educat- 
ing young people that we may need two generations to accom- 
plish the renovation of a family. Many years ago a poor soul 
died in a hospital and left to the writer, as a slight remembrance, 
her three children. One died in childhood, tenderly cared for; 
another, after various vicissitudes, is a well-to-do widow in a 
Western State ; the third is the subject of the little story I have to 
tell. He was a sunny-tempered, honest fellow who learned house- 
painting, became foreman, and married his master's daughter. 
She was a lovely young woman, and made her husband and 
her little boy and girl very happy until consumption carried her 
off at an early age. Then the one legacy that Frank had 
inherited from his father developed, and he became intemperate, 
never cross or ungrateful or harsh to his children, but idle and 
careless, and soon so ill that he died in the same hospital where 
his mother had died. His son and daughter live with a good 
woman who has brought up her own children admirably ; they are 
getting an excellent education in a parochial school ; and as they 
have the pleasant disposition of their father with the stronger 
qualities of their mother, I think they have every promise of 
a happy and useful life. Surely the best side of a child's nature 
may be developed by good companionship and by kind treatment, 
as the worst is developed by early familiarity with evil sur- 
roundings. 

Much good may be done by enabling families to keep together 
where there is no insuperable obstacle to domestic happiness. 
Charitable organizations are so ready to do this service to 
worthy and capable poor people that I will waste no time in 



398 THE CHILDREN OF THE POOR. [June, 

stating their claims, but speak of those cases where want of 
moral strength or judgment in the parents makes it hard for 
them to rule their children wisely. And this brings me to my 
favorite official, the Probation Officer, whose duties are not, 
perhaps, clearly understood by all charitable persons. As a little 
timely aid given to him in the care of his wards would do more 
good than independent action on the part of individuals, I will 
briefly state the nature of the work as it is carried on in the 
county of Suffolk, Mass., which has been divided into three parts, 
the Central District, the South Boston District, and the Roxbury 
District. It is evident that the success of probation must 
depend wholly upon the character of the officer in charge and his 
skill in enlisting the sympathy and aid of charitable persons. 
The work is still an experiment, but one in which the whole 
community should feel an interest. 

The duty of the Probation Officer is to become guardian of 
persons brought into court for a first offence and bondsman 
for their good behavior. He finds work and a home for his 
ward, visits him frequently, and in time procures his release from 
surveillance, or, in case of ill conduct, surrenders him to the law 
to suffer the punishment due to his offences. 

Last year Mr. Edward Savage, captain of police in Boston, 
published his report of ten years' work as Probation Officer. 
The following statements taken from it will be of interest: 

"Out of 27,052 cases investigated during the last ten years in the Central 
District, 7,251 were taken on probation. Of these only 580 proved incorrigible. 
The rest have done well or are still on probation. 759 women, many of them 
utterly destitute, were placed in charity houses where intemperance is medically 
treated. 176 sailors were sent to sea. 1,657 persons were returned to their 
homes in the country, and many of these were young girls convicted of offences 
against public order." 

An exact account of each case is kept at the Central Police 
Office, and reports are made every month to the Prison Commis- 
sioners, every quarter to the Superintendent of Police, and at 
the end of each year to the Mayor and City Council. 

Statistics of ten years ending 1888. 

Persons saved from imprisonment 5*697 

Years of imprisonment saved in sentences of various 

lengths 1,7 16 

Prison expenses saved $210,886 

Capt. Savage adds: "I arn gratified in believing that in many 
cases probation has paved the way for genuine reform, and has 



1889.] 



THE COLUMBIAN READING UNION. 



399 



saved many innocent persons and destitute families from greater 
suffering 1 than would have been endured by the real offender." 

Mr. George N. Parker, of the South Boston District, speaks 
with satisfaction of success in inducing " many a husband and 
wife to come together again after months of separation, causing 
them to take care of their children as they should and making no 
trouble in the community where they live," and he says: "Most 
of them are now trying to lead a correct life and be useful 
citizens." 

Mr. William F. Reed, of the Roxbury District, says : "The 
larger boys are usually taken at the House of the Angel 
Guardian, and some have been taken by the Children's Aid 
Society; the smaller ones by Mr. Duggan, of the Home on 
Harrison Avenue (Boston). The females are received at the 
House of the Good Shepherd. . . . To the managers of the 
House of the Good Shepherd I wish especially to express my 
gratitude for their kindness in receiving every one I have taken to 
them. All were received kindly and without any objection what- 
ever as to their condition, ability to earn, or any question as to 
paying anything towards their support; they agreeing to keep 
them for such time as the court might think proper for them 
to remain." 

There may be a good time coming, when the skill and 
resources of our police will be devoted even more sedulously to 
the preservation of innocence than to the detection of crime. 

EMMA F. GARY. 

Cambridge, Mass. 



THE COLUMBIAN READING UNION. 

A SOCIETY FOR THE DIFFUSION OF GOOD LITERATURE. 

THE Columbian Reading Union is intended to be a useful 
auxiliary to the Catholic reading public. It will endeavor 
to counteract, wherever prevalent, the indifference shown 
toward Catholic literature; to suggest ways and means of 
acquiring a better knowledge of standard authors, and es- 
pecially of our Catholic writers ; and to secure a larger 
representation of their works on the shelves of public libra- 
ries. It will aim to do this by practical methods of co-opera- 
tion. 

To accomplish the object in view there is need of a permanent 

VOL. XLIX. 26 



400 THE COLUMBIAN READING UNION. [June, 

combination of forces. This central organization will rely on the 
active sympathy and vigorous co-operation of those in charge 
of parochial libraries, and the managers of private reading 
circles. All societies of this kind will derive mutual benefit 
by the interchange of opinion and suggestion which will be 
encouraged and made profitable through the influence of a 
central body. In course of time a Directory of Catholic Li- 
braries and Reading Circles can be prepared from the sta- 
tistics and information gathered from the different societies. 

The name Columbian has been chosen for obvious reasons. 
Christopher Columbus, the discoverer of this Western Con- 
tinent, was distinctively a Catholic, renowned for dauntless 
courage as an explorer, and conspicuous for his mental gifts. 
He undertook and carried to success his great achievements 
with a view to the spiritual and intellectual advancement of 
the human race. Hence the choice of his name and exam- 
ple for this Union. 

The advantages of such an organization as the Columbian 
Reading Union are evident. Much judgment is required in 
preparing suitable lists of books for the different tastes of 
readers. The young ladies who have been graduated from 
convent schools and academies or other institutions need 
books specially adapted to their plans for self-improvement. 
That large and intelligent class working in stores, factories, 
and in domestic service, enjoying less leisure, have a claim 
which should also be cheerfully recognized. In preparing 
lists for the latter due allowance must be made for their 
range of thought and their limited opportunities for reading. 
IMS* With regard to young men, there are peculiar dangers 
arising from daily contact with the great tide of indifferent- 
ism and unbelief to which they are exposed. Valuable aid 
can be rendered to them by judicious guidance in the selec- 
tion of books that deal with subjects in which they are or 
ought to be most interested. . 

There is likewise a vast domain of juvenile literature to 
be classified to meet the constant demands of educational in- 
stitutions and of parents who rightly exercise a vigilant 
supervision over the reading matter supplied to their children. 

It is evident at a glance that individual effort is not adequate 
to meet all these wants. To arrange guide-lists for the various 
classes of readers, some fully and others only partially edu- 
cated, male and female, the leisured and the working classes, 
is a task of great magnitude. Responsible persons, such as 



1889.] THE COLUMBIAN READING UNION. 401 

professional teachers of literature, directors of libraries, quali- 
fied ladies and gentlemen, can do inestimable good to thousands 
of readers by employing their special acquirements in this 
direction, but to do so effectually demands an organization. 
Lists of books arranged in. this way and offered gratuitously can 
be endorsed and circulated by the Columbian Reading Union. 

Membership. Each person sending one dollar in postage 
stamps, or by postal note, will be enrolled as a member of the 
Columbian Reading Union ; dues to be paid annually in advance 
during the month of January. 

Libraries, Reading Circles, and other societies may obtain a 
membership through one representative, who alone will pay 
the annual dues. 

The privileges of membership are not transferable, and 
terminate each year in the month of December. Subject to 
this limitation, new members may join at any time. 

For the purchase of books members will have special facilities 
enabling them to save time, trouble, and expense. In pro- 
portion to the number and value of the books ordered, 
a liberal discount can be guaranteed. The full price of each 
book must be sent with the order, so as to conduct the busi- 
ness on a strictly cash basis. After deducting express 
charges or postage, the balance of surplus obtained by the 
discount allowed will be returned with the receipt. 

Post-office or express money orders and drafts forwarded 
for books should be made payable to the Columbian Reading 
Union, and addressed to the office of THE CATHOLIC WORLD, 
No. 6 Park Place, New York City. 

The management of the Columbian Reading Union will 
be under the direction of the Very Rev. Augustine F. 
Hewit, D.D., editor of THE CATHOLIC WORLD, a monthly 
magazine of general literature and science. Space will be 
given in its pages for the discussion of interesting topics re- 
lating to libraries and reading clubs. 

N. B. So far as funds permit, the benefits of this Reading 
Union will be extended to educational institutions. Dona- 
tions from those who wish to become patrons as well as 
members will be most acceptable. Copies of second-hand 
books and pamphlets could be used to good advantage for 
gratuitous distribution. 



402 TALK ABOUT NEW BOOKS. [June, 



TALK ABOUT NEW BOOKS. 

" THERE are no wicked women, Senhora ; it is the men who are 
wicked," says Sebastiao, in Dragon s TeetJi (Boston : Ticknor & 
Co.), to the faithless wife of his friend. The novel is the work of 
Senhor Eca de Quieros, who, according to his translator, " stands 
at the head of the list of Portuguese novelists." The masculine 
monopoly of wickedness being so obligingly claimed by " one of 
themselves," it seems a good deal of a pity that the efforts of male 
novelists of every tongue to justify the claim, should so often find 
facile and complaisant feminine pens ready to enlarge the sphere 
of their noxious activity. It is a woman, Miss Katharine Prescott 
Wormely, who is putting Balzac into flexible and taking English 
for Roberts Brothers. And it is another woman, Mary J. Serra- 
no, who explains, in the brief preface to Dragon s TeetJi, that she 
" has assumed the responsibility of softening here and there, and 
even of at times effacing, a line too sharply drawn, a light or a 
shadow too strongly marked to please a taste that has been largely 
(formed on Puritan models, convinced that while the interest of the 
story itself remains undiminished, the ethical purposeof the work 
will thereby be given wider scope." One feels puzzled to know 
just what manner of " ethical purpose " the average American 
woman would be likely to discover in this history of a mere, vul- 
gar intrigue, nowhere dignified with even the palest pretence at 
:any feeling worthy the sacred name of love. Is it necessary to 
instruct married women " formed on Puritan models," that if 
*they yield to vanity, caprice, and laziness, if they feed their ima- 
ginations on corrupt novels, and then drift into vice rather because 
there is nothing to hinder their descent than because there is any 
:active force to propel them downwards, it is they who will have 
to bear finally the heaviest end of the log of retribution ? If there 
fis any other lesson taught to women by this novel, we have 
.failed to find it; while as to the " wicked sex " to which Senhor 
de Quieros belongs, his mos.t serious and searching advice to them 
Avould seem to be that the only safe plan for the husband of a 
^pretty young woman, be she never so virtuous and loving, is never 
to risk a prolonged absence from the domestic hearth except in 
her company. The Portuguese novelist shows his close and ad- 
miring study of Balzac both in the matter and the manner of his 
-story. The latter is especially clever ; but though he is a skilful 
manipulator, he nowhere gives evidence of the elevation of senti- 



1889.] TALK ABOUT NEW BOOKS. 403 

ment and real power which often distinguish his master. We take 
leave to doubt the accuracy of the translator's remark that 
Dragorfs Teeth is a " graphic picture of Lisbon life." Lisbon is a 
large place, and here and there within its boundaries one must 
believe, in spite of negative testimony, that there must be a sprink- 
ling of Christian people, sensitive to other motives of action than 
those supplied by their fleshly appetites. This novel suggests 
rather what life might be in a perfectly appointed menagerie of 
selected simian types, kept and described by a hopeful evolu- 
tionist in search of the missing link. There is neither religion nor 
any sense of purely human duty in it, and hence, of love there is 
nothing but its animal counterpart and ape-like imitation. What 
higher claim it has to be classed as art than the cleverly illustrat- 
ed catalogue of such a museum of natural history would have, we 
fail to see, as also how it could better serve any " ethical 
purpose.' 1 

Mr. Froude, whose professedly historical works are commonly 
classed as fictions by his soberer-minded critics, seems to have 
been trying to get his horse into more conventional relations with 
his cart, now that he has taken to the production of historic ro- 
mance. The Two Chiefs of Dunboy ; or, An Irish Romance of the 
last Century (New York: Charles Scribner's Sons), is not only 
interesting and strongly written, but, after all due deduction has 
been made for its author's inescapable personal equation, he must, 
we think, be admitted to have made an honest effort to look facts 
in the face, and hold the scales of justice even-handed. A man's 
prejudices, inherited or acquired, his racial peculiarities, all those 
mental limitations, in fine, which go to make him an individual, are 
pretty much like a congenital squint. A surgical operation will not 
always cure the one, nor even a special grace of God do more than 
modify the other. If Mr. Froude has undeniably a short-sighted 
way of seeing and reporting facts, which has made pleasantly pop- 
ular the suggestion of classing all statements of his concerning 
them as " f rouds," still, it must have been born with him; and, 
like more physical varieties of myopia, it has proved amenable in 
some measure to the softening influences of time. At all events, 
he whose views concerning the duties of a historian made him in- 
variably a bitter partisan, and whose conception of those of a 
friendly biographer led him to invite Mrs. Grundy to so rich a 
feast of personal gossip that even she professed to be qualmish 
after the dishes were all emptied and every decanter drained, 
seems at last, when his imagination had leave to swing quite clear 
in the field of romance, to have felt the sobering touch of justice on 



404 TALK ABOUT NEW BOOKS. [June, 

his shoulder. Or was it, perhaps, merely the paternal love of an 
artist for his avowed creations ? Whatever it was, he has allowed 
the sympathies of his readers to flow almost as freely toward Morty 
Sullivan, the dispossessed Chief of Dunboy, an Irishman, a Catho- 
lic, a smuggler, a pirate, and an outlaw in the eyes of " English jus- 
tice," as they do toward Colonel Goring, his rival and successful 
foe. Not that Mr. Froude has changed his point of view concern- 
ing the proper way of settling Irish difficulties; he still believes 
that Ireland might have been made a peaceable and orderly por- 
tion of the British Empire if the Cromweilian plan of rooting out 
the old race and replanting the island with Presbyterians had been 
consistently carried out. His quarrel is not altogether with Irish 
Catholic nature, which he feels to have some justification for its 
continued existence in the fact that English feebleness and wrong- 
headedness, as exhibited in " thim Bishops" of the Establishment, 
allowed it to struggle back to life at a period when another stroke 
or two like those administered by the grim Protector's sword would 
have put it out of the question satisfactorily and for ever. And 
as it is the well-known peculiarity of weeds when not thoroughly 
ploughed under to spread all over the surface of a field to which 
they are indigenous, Mr. Froude, who must certainly be ac- 
counted the nearest known realization of that grotesque abstrac- 
tion called " British fair play," keeps all his active wrath and 
reasoned invective for the stupid Anglo-Saxon gardener whose 
only half-performed duty it was to clear the ground. At bottom 
he doubtless feels himself to have no more serious quarrel with 
the Irish Catholic variety of human nature than that which arises 
from his sense of humor, his keen appreciation of its even ridic- 
ulous incongruity with Ireland. " Is it not plain," he seems to say- 
to his reader, " that it does not flourish here? Look at the Irish 
soldier, how well he fights for us, or even against us, for that 
matter, when once he gets off his o\vn ground. But he never 
stands up and faces us at home ; he never forms an Irish patriot 
army. The reason for that I declare to be entirely unconnected 
with English law, and utterly inscrutable to me. Irish Catholics 
succeed in America, in Canada, in Australia, but never at home. 
What possible cause can there be but that Ireland itself is fatal to 
them and to their energies? I speak for England, and I affirm 
solemnly that I love and admire Ireland. It is a beautiful and 
fertile land, full of raw materials ready to be converted into 
British gold. Even of the papistical natives do I not make Colonel 
Goring declare to Mary Moriarty, when she innocently and 
bravely risks both her honor and her life to save his, ' I have 



1889] TALK ABOUT NEW BOOKS. 405 

heard others say that the faults of the Irish are the faults of a 
noble nature, which has been wrenched out of its proper shape; I 
believe it now '? Could anything be handsomer than that admis- 
sion, which, with the addition that the wrench seems to have been 
given at the time of their first appearance in Ireland, I am ready 
to repeat in my own person ? " 

Some such approximation having been made by the reader to 
the exact value and scope of Mr. Fronde's candor, he will then 
be ready to follow his chronicle of the Two Chiefs of Dunboy, 
Morty O'Sullivan and Colonel John Goring, with interest and 
pleasure. Goring is especially suggestive, not in himself, but as 
embodying Mr. Froude's ideal of the sort of Englishman who, if 
properly supported by government, would long since have suc- 
ceeded in the now hopeless task of pacifying and Protestantizing 
Ireland. Very early in the tale one begins to suspect that in 
delineating him and his fate Mr. Froude had General Gordon 
in his mind as a model to work up to, and the surmise, if incor- 
rect, is curiously aided from time to time by misprints in which 
one name is substituted for the other one in especial, by which 
a letter is addressed to His Excellency the Pasha Gordon, seems 
deliberately intended as an aid to dulness. Goring is a soldier, 
converted from religious apathy by the movement set on foot by 
George Whitefield and the two Wesleys. While remaining a 
nominal churchman he becomes most unchurchmanlike in his 
sympathy for the Calvinistic form of dissent a tendency, by the 
way, which strikes the reader as odd enough in a convert to 
VVesleyan preaching. Mr. Froude says of him that he became 
sensible of the revived Protestant spirit "as a call to devote him- 
self to anything which presented itself as a duty.*' 

" He had always been what is called a religious man, in the sense that he be- 
lieved that he would be called to account hereafter for his conduct. But his con- 
victions had ripened from a consciousness of responsibility to an immediate and 
active sense that he was a servant of God, with definite work laid upon him to do. 
He carried his habits as a soldier into his relations with his Commander above. 
Under Cromwell he would have been the most devoted of the Ironsides. In de- 
fault of an appointed leader to give him orders, he looked out for direct instruc- 
tions to himself in Providential circumstances, and in any accident which might 
befall him he looked habitually to see whether perhaps there might be a guiding 
hand in it.'' 

It was while under the stress of these new religious impres- 
sions that Goring had to decide whether or not he would settle 
at Dunboy, to which he had recently fallen heir by the death of 
a brother, and accept at the same time the post there offered 



406 TALK ABOJT NEW BOOKS. [June, 

him by the English government as commander of the coast 
guard from Cape Clear to Dingle. He had no relish for the 
duties of a revenue officer. The service was an offence to com- 
mon sense and natural justice, for the laws it was intended to en- 
force were crippling and robbing an entire community by whole- 
sale for no better end than that of enriching English manufac- 
turers. 

But common sense and natural justice, though Mr. Froude 
does not say so, belong to that order of merely mundane matters 
which, to a man of Colonel Goring's mental calibre, easily be- 
come abstractions under the influence of religious convictions so 

o 

purely personal that they own no external criterion. They can 
be put aside when they come into collision with what he feels to 
be more real, and more pleasing to that " Commander above/' 
whose own sense of justice, with genuine Calvinistic Manicheism, 
he is able to believe to be radically unlike that which is native to 
the human heart. To men of that stamp, God is a Father only to 
the special variety of human nature which they class as "regener- 
ate ' according to Calvinistic standards. It is easy to see what 
kind of a revenue officer Goring would make when once con- 
vinced, in spite of his natural scruples, that God's rule for him 
was precisely coincident with English law. Had English law- 
givers, at the time, been as serious as he was himself in abiding 
by their statutes, all would have gone swimmingly. As it was, 
he only made enemies among all classes by effectively interfering 
with a trade commonly recognized as honest in spite of the 
stigma of fraud cast upon it by legislation. The trouble was, as 
it always will be, that though a fanatic here and there may live 
up to a purely interior and personal standard, he always runs foul 
at last of the common sense he has ignored, either in its plain 
and ordinary varieties, or in that embodied by men kindred to 
himself in the bare fact of fanaticism, but alien in the particular 
criterion by which they elect to measure their external actions. 
Mr. Froude shows native penetration in his intense appreciation 
that the best hold of the Tory Englishman, bent on appropria- 
tion in that distinctively British manner known as making a 
desert and calling it peace, is to mentally identify himself as the 
spiritual descendant of the Israelite entering Canaan. There is 
so marked a likeness in some respects as to cause conjecture 
whether or not the Ten Lost Tribes may not have finally settled 
in Britain as Anglo-Saxons. Not the least strong of the parallels 
which suggest it may perhaps be found in that common and 
fatal forgetfulness of the warning not to turn aside to the wor- 



1889.] TALK ABOUT NEW BOOKS. 407 

ship of Moloch and of Mammon which makes their claim to 
" the promises " of no avail. 

Miss Gertrude Garrison does not seem to be altogether of 
the opinion of a certain sage if our memory serves, it was Cap- 
tain Jack, in Mr. Thickstun's interesting novel, A Mexican Girl 
that it is " better never to get the right woman than to get the 
wrong one." Perhaps she would feel that, the sex being changed, 
the apothegm would lose something of its self-evident truth. So 
we should infer, at least, from her novel, The Wrong Man (Chi- 
cago : Belford, Clarke & Co.) The entire undesirability of that 
individual she makes agreeably plain, but she leaves the reader 
doubtful whether Dr. Sedgewick is much nearer to being the 
"right man' than Frank Bascombe, whose place as bride- 
groom he is so suddenly promoted to fill. Can it be that Mas- 
ter Just Right dies in his cradle, or gets changed at nurse, as 
often as his little sister Precisely has long been known to 
do? 

From Ticknor & Co. we have, in their " Paper Series 
of Choice Reading," Edward Bellamy's Looking Backward, re- 
viewed at some length in this magazine at the time of its first 
issue ; A Woman of Honor, by H. C. Bunner, and The Desmond 
Hundred, by Jane G. Austin, the last two each in its fifth edition. 
Each deserves its continued popularity by its sprightliness, its 
unobjectionable morality, and its clever handling of contempor- 
ary life. Mrs. Austin's acquaintance we make for the first time 
in The Desmond Hundred. She is more amusing than the more 
famous novelist whose name she bears with a trifling variation, 
but she has the air of being more burdened with "tendency.' 
Perhaps it is a false air ; at all events, she does not make her 
purpose so luminously evident that it would dazzle a blind man. 
The two prefatory stanzas which she calls a "Dedication" make 
one wonder whether they may have been addressed, by a figure 
of speech, to one of the flock of geese which anciently saved the 
Capitol a flock from which it is reasonable to infer that ganders 
were not entirely absent. Is there, or isn't there we appeal to 
Sorosis to decide something invidious in designating the whole 
anserine species, the popular emblem of folly, by the feminine 
plural only? Here are Mrs. Austin's dedicatory verses : 

' Time was when thou didst raise thy voice, 

And drave the foeman from the gates of Rome. 
Fair time ! when Romans might rejoice 
That such as thou with them could find a home. 



408 TALK ABOUT NEW BOOKS. [June, 

" Again, to-day, thy voice is heard 

' Wake, friends, and arm, if ye would save your home !' 
But now, O wise and occult bird ! 
That cry is meant to save thy friends from Rome." 

The Desmond Hundred is a property of an hundred acres, 
situated somewhere in New England, in a town called Abbey- 
shrule. It belongs to Honoria Desmond, who, being the daugh- 
ter of a novice escaped from a Spanish convent, and an Irish 
Catholic gentleman, has, at some time and place not included in 
the present tale, become a Protestant Episcopalian. Having had 
the misfortune while abroad to promise herself to a man whose 
existing marriage is discovered just in the nick of time, she 
comes home to her estate to indulge in melancholy. She is 
very soon out of love with melancholy, however, being greatly 
aided to that result by the arrival of a clerical gentleman, usually 
spoken of as "the priest" 1 by Mrs. Austin, whose horse falls lame 
on Honor's land, and who is entertained by her during the pro- 
cess of its recovery. Adam Ardrie is " the priest's " name. He 
is a man of forty or thereabouts, with a "gray face " which has 
a habit of getting "pinched" and "drawn" under the stress of 
the conflicting emotions arising from his admiration for Honor 
and his sense that he can be a better "priest' if he does 
not marry her. As Adam is an Episcopalian like herself, it 
naturally does not occur to Honor that he is not as free to fall in 
love. The situation is trying to both of them, as may be seen 
by a quotation taken at random, and to be matched in nearly 
every chapter: 

"Her earnest and candid eyes, softened by emotion, rested full on his ; her 
noble head was uplifted in the grandeur of a great purpose ; her smooth, supple 
fingers innocently grasped his hand in fervent emphasis ; the rich color glowed 
upon her cheek and throbbed in her parted lips. She was the fairest and most 
gracious woman that Adam Ardrie had ever looked upon ; and a keen pang shot 
through heart and brain, as, dropping that soft, warm hand almost rudely, he 
walked to the window, looked out for a moment, and then returning, his face 
grayer and colder than its wont, he came close to Honor, and said : 

" ' God helping me, Miss Desmond, I will do my duty by you without fear or 
favor.' 

" ' Thank you,' said Honor a little sadly. Something in his voice, something 
in his look chilled and repressed the fervor of her mood. 

" ' I am afraid I am going to be afraid of somebody,' murmured she naively 
as he left the room." 

It is easy to see what makes the case a hard as well as a puzzling 
one to Honor. Mr. Ardrie, who has private means, declines her 
invitation to become her'domestic chaplain, but accepts the care 



.] TALK ABOUT NEW BOOKS. 409 

of an unfinished chapel, originally begun for her mother's use, and 
now serving as a sort of mausoleum for her and for the priest who 
had been brought thither to baptize Honor. He stipulates, how- 
ever, that it shall be handed over to " the bishop," and made a 
parish church, from which he will draw no revenue save that 
provided by the free offerings of a congregation numbering, per- 
haps, one hundred and fifty souls. There is no reason on the face 
of things why Mr. Ardrie should not marry. He has apparently 
no wife in the background, like Honor's first suitor, and that he 
reciprocates her affection for him is as plain to each as it presently 
becomes to all who are interested enough to watch the inter- 
course between them. Even the reader is perplexed, finding 
Adam so torn between conflicting impulses that he is more than 
once on the point of frankly holding out his own hand for that 
which Honor longs to give him. Ardrie is a good man after the 
highest Ritualistic pattern. He has a Lady Chapel, he teaches his 
choir the O Salutaris, he reconciles estranged parents and chil- 
dren, he converts old Presbyterians into good Episcopalians, and 
he is devoured with an enthusiasm for his Master's service which, 
given his views on celibacy and his preternatural success in win- 
ning all sorts and conditions of men to his own religious practices, 
makes it all the more inexplicable why he should choose a field 
not merely so narrow but so thickly set with the thorns of temp- 
tation. But that is the well-known way of the heroes most de- 
lighted in by female novelists. Finally Adam passes Honor over 
to his younger brother, Major Paidmore-Ardrie, whom he takes 
her to Havana to meet. Like everybody else, the major sees that 
Honor and Adam are in love, and he stands persistently out of 
the way, until, seeing that the latter is making no advances, he 
interviews him on the subject. Finding how the ground lies, he 
so far sides against himself as to urge that Adam's notions are 
" mere papistical rubbish," and plumply accuses him of loving 
Honor in spite of them. 

" ' I love her ; and God judge if I speak truly, it is as the angels love,' said the 
priest reverently. . . . I love her in such wise, that if old age, or disease, or 
accident destroyed her beauty and struck down the vigor of her ardent youth, I 
should love her without one shadow of change ; I love her in such wise that if our 
two spirits should pass in this hour out of their bodies and stand before the judg- 
ment-seat of Christ, I should feel no change, no chill to my affection. Spiritual 
things are spiritually discerned, my brother. Do you discern the nature of this 
love ? ' " 

The major frankly owns up that he discerns nothing of the 
sort, and adds that, if he has the good luck to win Honor, he hopes 



410 TALK ABOUT NEW BOOKS. [June, 

that "you and she will be the dearest of brothers and sisters, spir- 
itual friends, or whatever moonshiny relations you see fit to sus- 
tain." Then he goes to Honor, who accepts him, but, being 
questioned, owns that she would have taken Adam instead had he 
asked her. 

" ' Yes,' she says, ' I would have married him had he asked me ; but he never 
did. He was wiser than I, and saw, no doubt, as I have since learned to see, that 
it would have been a terrible mistake for both of us. He belongs wholly to God, 
and I' 

" ' Well, darling and you ? You belong ' 

" ' To you,' whispered Honor.'' 

Which is all very well for a novel, but has an even 
painful tack of verisimilitude considered as a study from life. 
That Mrs. Austin means to teach, or, rather, to suggest, 
something by it is tolerably plain, and we doubtfully conjecture 
that something to be that the worship of the Blessed Virgin, and 
the adoration of the sacramental species when consecrated by 
a voluntarily celibate " Anglican ' clergy, would be a per- 
fectly effectual breakwater against the " encroachments of 
Rome." 

That is probably as good a theme as another on which to 
construct a popular novel. It gives scope for a tremendous lot 
of energy and sacrifice and all that sort of thing, which is so 
taking when put between the covers of a book, and performed, 
as it were vicariously, for the reader, by a set of puppets who 
impart a sense of virtue, shared by conscious approval, but not 
binding by stringent personal application. Mrs. Austin is an 
extremely clever writer, and paints ordinary New England 
people like one who knows them well. 

Mr. Henry Collins Walsh publishes, from the press of Mac- 
Calla & Co., Philadelphia, a very prettily bound little volume 
of verses "in aid. of the Building Fund" of Georgetown College, 
and in honor of its Centenary. It is called By the Potomac. 
We sincerely hope that its sale may be so large that the proceeds 
of it, when "divided between the Alumni Centennial Subscrip- 
tion and the College Journal Building Fund," will set both of 
those recipients financially upon their feet. 

An extremely interesting volume of reminiscences is called 
From Flag to Flag : In the North, in Mexico, in Cuba. By Eliza 
McHattcn-Ripley (New York: D. Appleton & Co.) It gives, 
in an animated, sparkling way, full of personal flavor, the adven- 
tures of an exceptionally bright and cheerful-tempered woman 
in Louisiana during the war, and afterwards still further south. 



1889.] TALK ABOUT NEW BOOKS. 411 

Every page is readable and pleasant, and full of graphic 
pictures of many varieties of men and women. 

Though her name does not appear on the title-page, Mrs. 
Oliphant is popularly credited with the authorship of The Land 
of Darkness (New York and London : MacMillan & Co.) It seems 
to us well worth any reader's while to make the journey with 
her through that dark country which is hell. Painful as it is, it 
is hopeful also, and it strikes two notes which are struck like- 
wise by those sayings of St. Catharine of Genoa : " The all- 
lovely goodness of God shines even into hell," and, " As far as I 
perceive, on the part of God, Paradise has no gates. He who 
will may enter." It is poetical, too, both in essential imagina- 
tion and in form, lacking wholly that coarse and even vulgar 
touch which detracts so greatly from the merits of the well- 
known book called Letters from Hell. Of the other papers 
which help to form this volume, '* The Little Pilgrim in the 
Seen and Unseen " is altogether beautiful and touching, while 
" On the Dark Mountains " strikes for the second time, but less 
sharply for the pain, more resonantly for the hope, the notes 
touched in The Land of Darkness. Mrs. Oliphant's conception 
of hell a word she never uses resembles rather the Catholic 
one of purgatory ; not St. Catharine's fiery but sweet purgatory 
of love, but St. Bridget of Sweden's purgatory, for the cleansing 
of gross sinners. Where she found it, if anywhere beyond the 
depths of her own heart, we know not, but assuredly it is very 
beautiful. She herself sums it up thus: 

" It was thus that she learned the last lesson of all that is in heaven 
and that is in earth, and in the heights above and the depths below, which 
the great angels desire to look into, and all the princes and powers. And 
it is this : that there is that which is beyond hope, yet not beyond love. 
And that hope may fail and be no longer possible, but love cannot fail. 
For hope is of men, but love is the Lord. And there is but one thing 
which to Him is not possible, which is to forget. And that even when the 
Father has hidden His face and help is forbidden, yet there He goes secret- 
ly and cannot forbear. 

"But if there were any deep more profound, and to which access was 
not, either from the dark mountains or by any other way, the pilgrim was 
not taught, nor ever found any knowledge, either among the angels who 
know all things, or among her brothers who were the children of men." 



WITH READERS AND CORRESPONDENTS. [June, 



WITH READERS AND CORRESPONDENTS. 

i 

/ 
ST. ANSELM'S SOCIETY. 

In reply to an inquiry sent from the office of THE CATHOLIC WORLD, the 
pamphlets and lists issued by St. Anselm's Society have been kindly forwarded 
by the Very Rev. Provost Wenham. The society has been in existence since the 
year 1860. It began by collecting subscriptions, and making grants of books at 
half price to missions, schools, and charitable institutions. A catalogue was 
published of Catholic books and others which upon examination were found to 
be unobjectionable. The expenditure required for putting such books into circu- 
lation amounted to several thousands of pounds. After a time the support given 
to the society was not sufficient to pay expenses and allow the large reduction in 
the price of books. Under altered conditions the work was begun again, with 
special reference to the needs of schools and colleges. Investigation proved that 
those who order books for prizes and school libraries were often at the mercy of 
booksellers and publishers, who, being without knowledge of the suitability of 
books for the classes for whom they were ordered, were inclined to supply their 
own publications, whether suitable or not. Considerable attention has been 
given also to the selection of books for lending libraries, and the preparation of 
lists for family reading. 

St. Anselm's Society is rightly opposed to indiscriminate reading, which must 
be counteracted by the diffusion of sound and wholesome literature. It recog- 
nizes that no great results can be expected from mere restraint in the matter of 
reading. Hence it seeks to stimulate the intellectual appetite by cultivating and 
educating it to a taste for healthy mental food. There should be an enlightened 
conscience about the selection of books, and educational institutions cannot be 
exempted from the duty of protecting their scholars from the dangerous litera- 
ture of the day. By the combined effort of qualified persons the best books can 
be made conspicuous, and young people can be taught how to discriminate in 
their search for interesting reading. 

From the financial report of St. Anselm's Society, issued in May, 1888, we 
learn that for the preceding year the receipts amounted to ^1,014 ijs. yd., of 
which ^588 I7.y. lid. was from the sale of books. The expenditure was 
^997 i$s. nd., of which ^587 js. id. was spent in printing and the pur- 
chase of books. The work of the society in advising and assisting those in 
charge of schools and institutions of various kinds is performed gratuitously. 
No effort is made to interfere with the business of the bookseller ; the aim kept 
constantly in view is to select from all quarters the best books, to recommend 
them, and bring them in the way of those who possess influence and authority 
over others, so as to direct them in their reading. 

For the payment of i (or, in the case of priests, los.) subscribers receive 
free all lists and pamphlets from the Society's Depository, No. 6 Agar St., Strand, 
London. They are also entitled to any books on the lists up to 10, at the cost 
price to the Society, for cash payment. 

THOMAS MCMILLAN. 



1889.] WITH READERS AND CO-RESPONDENTS. 413 

ALFRED KRUPP.* 

The city of Essen, which has for its founder and patron saint Alfred von 
Hildesheim, a bishop of the ninth century, lies about twenty miles northeast of 
DLisseldorf on the Rhine, is situated in the fertile basin of the Ruhr, in the centre 
of the great factory district of Westphalia, a veritable hive of industry, in which 
also are Crefeld, Elberfeld, and Dortmund. It is a region in' which nature has 
stored abundant coal and iron, the very bases of metal industry. In 1812 Essen 
was a little country town, with scarcely four thousand inhabitants. In 1887 the 
old city and its suburbs contained nearly one hundred thousand people. Its 
prodigious growth in industrial importance and population is wholly due to the 
wonderful intelligence, energy, and persevering industry of two men of Friedrich 
Krupp, who discovered a carefully guarded secret, the art of making cast-steel, 
acquired by England in the middle of the eighteenth century, and of his son Al- 
fred, who carried out his father's life-work to its present colossal successful results. 

Friedrich Krupp began his vocation as a metal-worker at the Good Hope 
Works at Sterckrade, bought by his grandmother in 1800 under foreclosure of 
mortgage. There he began his first experiments to find out how to make cast- 
steel, but want of success compelled him in 1808 to give up the works. He then 
went to Essen and established a small, water-driven forging plant. At last he 
unearthed the secret he was after, and started in 1815, with a partner, Friedrich 
Nicolai, and an exclusive privilege granted by government for producing cast- 
steel in the royal Prussian provinces between the Elbe and the Rhine. He 
could not get along with his partner and had to get rid of him. But the demand 
for the product which he turned out was not sufficient to keep his works going ; 
though more and more money was sunk, the inevitable current of ruin could not 
be stemmed. He was obliged to give up his comfortable habitation and occupy 
poverty-stricken laborers quarters, a small, one-story cottage near his plant 
which is still preserved in the very midst of the present gigantic establishment. 
Here, broken by sorrow, abandoned by hope, and ruined in fortune, he died Octo- 
ber 8, 1826, at the early age of thirty-nine. Shortly before his death he confided 
to his son Alfred the secret of making cast-steel, and by his will directed that 
the boy should assume the management of the works which were to be carried on 
by his widow. 

At the time of his father's death Alfred Krupp was only fourteen years old, 
and a pupil at the grammar school. Under the direction of his uncle, Carl 
Schulz, in the first year after leaving school he devoted his Sundays to the study 
of book-keeping and to the acquirement of other mercantile knowledge. He 
entered upon a life of hard manual labor ; " with two workmen, increased in suc- 
ceeding years to five, he carried on the forge ; clad in overalls, he stood at the an- 
vil from morn till night, the first to come, the last to leave, with calloused hands 
swinging the sledge." His food was for the most part potatoes, coffee, bread 
and butter, but no meat. For fifteen years he earned just enough to pay his 
workmen their wages, and was often short of money to pay postage. Slowly 
but surely the development of the works went on. In 1832 he employed ten 
workmen. About this time he invented the cast-steel roller die and sold his 
English patent for a sum which enabled him considerably to enlarge his works. 

* Alfred Krupp : A sketch of his life and work. From the German of Victor Niemeyer by 
K. W. and O. E. Michaelis. To which is added A Visit to the Krupp Works at Essen, from the 
French of Captain E. Monthaye. New York : Thomas Prosser & Son. J 



4H WITH READERS AND CORRESPONDENTS. [June, 

He undertook various extensive journeys for the purpose of enlarging his knowl- 
edge of steel and iron fabrication. In 1847 he sent a three-pounder muzzle- 
loading gun to Berlin, where it remained without notice by the Ordnance Board 
until 1849, when the excellent quality of the metal was acknowledged. 1848 
was a year of trial ; his brother Friedrich left him, the works were threatened 
with ruin, and to keep them going he had to melt what remaining plate the fam- 
ily possessed, and thus tide over this darkest period, which fortunately was of 
short duration. In 1851 Krupp appeared at the London Exhibition with a steel 
block weighing forty-five hundredweight, when up to that time twenty had 
been considered as the maximum possible under the most favorable circum- 
stances. The assembled metallurgists were in astonishment ; English steel- 
makers did not know what to make of it ; some English papers went so far as 
to declare "there is some deception in this, something unfair.'' A piece of steel 
was cut from Krupp's ingot, raised to a proper heat, and forged on the anvil in all 
directions. With this palpable proof, Krupp's success was complete ; he re- 
ceived the Council medal and his world-wide refutation was established. In 
1852 he invented a method of manufacturing weldless railroad tires, the extra- 
ordinary pecuniary success of which enabled him to establish great shops and to 
set up powerful machinery. In 1854 his exhibit at the Munich Exhibition was 
crowned with the memorial gold medal. At the Paris Exhibition of 1855 the 
cast-steel block he exhibited was more than double the weight of that of 1851. 
It weighed 5,000 kilograms (11,000 Ibs.), and earned the award of the large gold 
medal. The 12-pounder shell gun exhibited so engaged the interest of the 
French that exhaustive trials with Krupp guns, at which Krupp attended in per- 
son, were instituted. In 1858 he exhibited his works to the Archduke John of 
Austria and to Von Waldersee, Prussian minister of war. In 1860 King William 
I., who in 1853, as Prince of Prussia, had examined the works with deep interest, 
visited Essen a second time, to behold with wonder the enormous progress of the 
plant. Krupp had become the Cannon King. In 1861 Prussia adopted the 
Krupp rifled breech-loading gun. Honors and orders without number were 
conferred upon him. The victory of Sedan in 1870 is said to have been won 
with Krupp breech-loaders. During his life Krupp delivered a total of 23,000 
guns to thirty-four different states. The 72 workmen employed in 1848 had 
grown in 1865 to 8,187. In September, 1881, the total of employees footed up 
19,605. His works now consume every working day 3,100 tons of coal and coke, 
5,000 to 7,000 gallons of water, from 475,000 to 1,500,000 feet of gas for lighting, 
and his blast furnaces are charged daily with 1,400 tons of ore from the Krupp 
mines. One forging-hammer weighs 50 tons. 

\ After he had in 1853 left his little, simple home for a more commodious 
dwelling he began to show his earnest sympathy with his workmen. He found- 
ed a sick and pension fund for the aid and protection of disabled workmen. He 
established a commissariat, or regular supply system, by which all the necessa- 
ries of life, of good quality, could be sold to workmen at a low price, mere cost, 
for cash only. He built roomy, well-drained houses and let them to his em- 
ployees at considerable less rental than they had before paid for the miserable 
dens in which they lived. At present the works have 3,208 suitable and healthy 
family tenements, all supplied with water, harboring about 16,200 souls. He 
repeatedly took opportunity to offer his workmen, after weary weeks of labor, 
rest and recreation. He declared that " every manufacturing establishment 
should, my works must, insure the health and prosperity of all concerned. With 






1889.] WITH READERS AND CORRESPONDENTS. 415 

assured and sufficient earnings, with content and comfort at home, every indi- 
vidual can enjoy the very fact of living." In 1871 a general hospital was erect- 
ed ; in 1872 one for contagious diseases. In 1874 a bathing establishment was 
built, with separate bath-rooms and a Russian bath. The Life Insurance Com- 
pany, instituted in 1874, now numbers 2,000 policy-holders. For invalids and con- 
valescents, not fit for regular shop duties, brush and paper-bag making and 
other light employments were undertaken. He erected four large public schools, 
an undenominational private school, and two industrial schools. Every appren- 
tice was required to attend the evening schools. He not only avoided politics for 
himself, but he was averse to his employees taking part in political agitation. He 
gave them this sound advice: "Earnest, active interest in state politics de- 
mands more time and a deeper study of complicated relations than is at your 
command. Besides, political hobnobbery is expensive ; you can get better 
money's worth at home. Your daily work finished, spend your time in your 
houses with your parents, your wives, and your children. There find your recre- 
ation, there reflect upon household matters and education ; let this and your 
work constitute your politics, and thus enjoy contented lives.' 1 In 1878 he 
gave to each of his workmen a book against the baneful spirit of social democ- 
racy in which he made clear the real sources of social misery. 

In 1887 Alfred Krupp, who had then become the heaviest taxpayer of the 
great German Empire, began to droop, and on July 14 of that year he died, in the 
seventy-fifth year of his ag. By his wili he presented to the city of Essen 
500,000 marks " for charitable and general purposes, 1 ' and he left a legacy of 
1,000,000 marks for the benefit of all workmen connected with his works, the inte- 
rest of which is to be disbursed under direction of a committee of employees. 

The book before us gives no account whatever of Krupp's religious belief, 
but leads one to suspect that he inclined to indiUerentism. It praises his fre- 
quent admonitions against the destruction of religious concord ; that " religious 
dissension destroys peaceful relations " ; quotes his declaration that ** the Catho- 
lic workman was just as dear to him as the Protestant," and condemns the 
ultramontane papers for having, on the occasion of the last Reichstag election, 
taken a course which he viewed as " an attempt to create a chasm between his 
Catholic and Protestant workmen, a most shametess proceeding. 1 * We allow 
ourselves to hope that he was neither tolerant nor indifferent in regard to the 
tyrannical anti- Catholic legislation of the May laws, under which the religious 
rights of the numerous Catholics of Westphalia, as well as their co-religionists 
throughout the German Empire, were so long oppressed. The present head of 
the establishment is Friedrich Alfred Krupp. 

Among the thousands of admirers at the present day of Krupp's wonderful 
industrial success, how many are there that realize and recognize the fact that, 
estimated at its highest aggregate value, it is not worth as much as the saving- of 
one soul? B. 



READING CIRCLES. 



This issue of THE CATHOLIC WORLD contains the prospectus of the Colum- 
bian Reading Union. It is constructed on broad lines, trusting to the future for 
minor developments. Every parish library and reading chib already existing 
can follow out its own plan of work, and at the same time appropriate whatever 
XLIX. 27 



416 WITH READERS AND CORRESPONDENTS. [June, 

good suggestions may come through the medium of the Reading Union. In- 
dividuals may likewise avail themselves of these advantages. Clubs and so- 
cieties for home study must depend chiefly on favorable local conditions. 
Wherever they can be formed and persistently maintained good results will 
certainly follow. 

On behalf of the Columbian Reading Union an appeal is now made to those 
competent to prepare lists of the best books on different subjects. Thus the 
rare knowledge of the few may become useful to the many. One of the letters 
received gives proof of a generous spirit in these words : 

"As for voluntary work, I am no specialist, nor indeed in any wise learned, but I will try 
to do what I can and as well as I can. Among the specialists the most important is a. banker 
at the start. He furnishes the oxygen to the atmosphere of literature, learning, and culture 
nowadays as ever. Devotion, good-will, enthusiasm are weak without him." 

Now that the movement discussed in these pages is about to take permanent 
form, it is a fitting time to make an explanation in reply to all those who have 
asked how the idea originated. The first communication received by THE CA- 
THOLIC WORLD on the subject of Reading Circles was written by Miss Julie E. 
Perkins, of Milwauke'e. She has gratuitously undertaken the onerous task of 
replying to all correspondents. The expense of printing the leaflets and slips 
sent by her to various parts of the United States and Canada was paid from a 
fund kindly donated for that purpose by Mr. Charles D. Nash. Such gener- 
osity is worthy of high commendation, and for the success of the enterprise it 
should receive the sincerest praise that is, imitation by others. 

Among the educational institutions of the United States none has attained a 
loftier standard of excellence in the skilful use of modern methods than the Uni- 
versity of Notre Dame, Indiana. We gladly give space to a letter from one of 
its ablest representatives, Professor Egan, who has brought with him to the 
West remarkable natural gifts and the most finished culture of the East : 

" I hear with great pleasure of your project of the ' Reading Circles.' I have long admir- 
ed the bold stroke by which the Methodists have raised themselves from their position as the 
most illiterate of denominations by means of the Chautauqua movement. It is the fashion for 
some of us to sneer at .this. I did some of that kind of sneering myself very thoughtlessly 
when I had the fortune in past days of editing a Catholic journal ; age has brought more con- 
sideration for others. Wihile we Catholics read the newspapers and an occasional novel of the 
minute, while it is a fact that our best magazines and journals merely exist, we should restrain 
our sneers at the efforts of other people to accomplish what we ought to be doing. 

"The ' Reading Ciceles' are a.move in the right direction ; if they have only the effect of 
teaching the young Catholic who knows his opinions of literature from the newspaper re- 
views not to talk of Catholic literature. as if it were beneath contempt, they will have accom- 
plished a great deal. Surely every \young woman or young man of ' ours,' capable of reading 
Robert Elsmere, or Passe Rose, ought to know Dion and the Sibyls, or The Dream of 
Gerontius. I think some movement ought to be made towards the serious study of literature ; 
and it seems to me that the studies <f your Circles ought to be directed from a common centre. 
John Wesley appropriated much from us ; \why should we not take some of the Chautauqi a 
plans ? MAURICE FRANCIS EGAN." 

Letters containing various suggestions and good wishes for the work pro- 
posed have been received from M. E. M,, Alpena, Mich. ; F. S. P., Mobile, Ala. ; 
E. T. L., Canton, N. Y. ; E. H. M., Troy, N. Y.. ; N. O..B., Dedham, Mass. ; D. 
M., Boston, Mass. ; C. H., Mobile, Ala. ; G. M. F., La Grange, 111. ; A. G., Celina, 
Ohio ; W.E. M , Youngstown, Ohio ;"J, L. T,, West Fitchburgh, Mass. ; M. E. K., 



1889.] WITH READERS AND CORRESPONDENTS, 417 

tast Dedham, Mass. ; J, M. R., Ascension, La. ; K. A. D,, Lynn, Mass. ; J. S,, 
Rcanoke> Va> 

Another Reading Circle has been formed at Rochester, N. Y. composed of 
forty members belonging to St. Bridget's Church. Mrs P. J. Dowling has sent 
a Very interesting letter giving an account of its first meeting, We fully approve 
the decision to subscribe for THE CATHOLIC WORLD. 

The following letter is from Illinois) and represents the opinions of a teacher 
m a Catholic institution \ 

1 THE CATHOLIC WORLD, through the kindness of a friend, was a welcome visitor to us 
this week. In it we see the subject of ' Reading Circles ' discussed. Long have we felt the 
need of such work, and will think it a real Godsend if something permanent can be done in 
this direction. 

' In small places where almost everything is Protestant it is next to impossible to rear the 
young untainted by false ideas, with here and there the proverbial exception. For the growing 
mind will seek, will know, in order to keep up with those around it, and too often is forced to 
go to Protestant gardens for the food it craves and needs, the Catholic library, if there be one 
at all, being too scant to furnish the required information. Thus they inhale from their very 
youth the fatal poison of indifference, and parents reared in the same atmosphere are unable to 
counteract it if they would. Many of our Catholic girls are teachers in the public and district 
schools, and surrounded as they are by Protestants, unless there is a strong Catholic training, 
mixed marriages cannot be prevented. This might, however, be obviated to a certain extent 
by Catholic literature, and no plan is better than the formation of Reading Circles. 

"I have examined somewhat the Chautauqua course and think it an admirable one, its 
heretical proclivities excepted. These being replaced by Catholic doctrine and authors, nothing 
better could be adopted for the average reader or student. And its being principally a gratui- 
tous course would make it all the more acceptable to the middle and poorer classes, and they 
are the ones mainly to be reached. 

" A literary magazine specially for the society, containing suggestions, outlines, pro- 
grammes, and supplementary reading, at a price within the reach of all, will be a very interest- 
ing, necessary, and stimulating force. 

" One feature above all that I admire in the Chautauquan is the appeal to parents to be- 
come members that they may assist their children. 

" The Circle is to be preferred to the individual plan of study for the reason that Catholic 
youths are thrown together, and by the presence of the parents an atmosphere altogether 
wholesome and pleasant would surround them. 

" It will be up-hill work no doubt ; but what work for the good of souls was ever accom- 
plished that was not beset by difficulties ? 

" A great deal depends also upon the name to make it a success. Let a neutral one be 
chosen that outsiders may also be attracted. I heartily endorse M. T. Elder's article on the 
' draw system,' and think it worth trying here if anywhere. 

" As it takes ' money to make the mare go,' I promise twenty-five dollars towards estab- 
lishing the magazine. Let us hear from others. 

To establish a new magazine is hardly possible, and quite unnecessary as long 
as THE CATHOLIC WORLD allows space for matters relating to Reading Circles. 
The lists and leaflets to be published by the Columbian Reading Union will 
supply the desired information. A donation of twenty-five dollars could be very 
usefully employed in sending the lists gratis to every Catholic church in the rural 
districts of Illinois. We hope to hear again soon from the writer of the above 
letter. 

We are indebted to the Catholic Review for an editorial lucidly setting forth 
the advantages of the work proposed for reading clubs. It deserves to be 
quoted for all interested in the question : 

" The pages of THE CATHOLIC WORLD have lately been devoted to the discussion and for- 



8 WITH READERS AND CORRESPONDENTS. [June, 

mation of a scheme which, if faithfully carried out, will be of immense benefit to Catholics 
and, indirectly, of great encouragement to authors and publishers. It is the founding of read- 
ing clubs among our people which will bring together in every possible place the few who like 
to read intelligently, will direct their reading, urge them to a fuller acquaintance with Catholic- 
authors, and while assisting their mental growth make them the means of developing the 
Catholic mind in towns and villages, and directing its attention to needs which just now they 
seem unconscious of. 

" Such a work is necessary, sure to succeed, and of wonderful utility. A little salt seasons 
a large loaf. A few minds in every parish can influence the many around them. To get these 
few into companionship, to give them a single aim whose attainment is made easy without any 
invasion of time or custom, is a simple and difficult task ; simple, because details are 
few and expenses light ; difficult, because human nature tires quickly, whereas Satan is tireless. 

"The indifference of Catholics to their own intellectual needs is the most painful feature 
of our condition in America. When one compares the book-lists of England with those of 
this country it is to feel ashamed of our poverty of production. There is no publishing firm 
amongst us which dares to bring out an original book except at long intervals. In that line we 
get only German and English reprints. Publishers devote all their time to school books and 
the abominable premium trade, which the Freeman's Joitrnal once stigmatized as the ' junk ' 
business. 

" The reason is that there is no market for Catholic books by native authors, or by foreign 
authors if a royalty has to be paid them. It takes so long to sell off an edition of one thousand 
copies that time, profit, and patience are lost. It does not even pay to take an American 
author's book for nothing and put it in type. Publishers must use the electrotype plates made 
in England for American editions. If a few publishers now and then publish an original 
story, it is done simply to work off a stock of German and French translations under cover of a 
new book. There are, of course, more reasons than one to account for this sad state. But the 
main reason lies with the indifferent Catholic readers, who are content with what comes to 
their hand, and make no efforts to discover the works of Catholic writers. 

"Spalding, England, Kenrick, Brownson, and Hecker published their own books as a rule, 
simply to get their ideas among the thoughtful. The men who could have supplied us with 
novels, poems, biographies, essays such as we needed for the expression of Catholic sentiment 
were editors and contributors "on secular journals, and are there still. What work could not 
such people do as Mrs. Sullivan, Mrs. Blake,' Christian Reid, Boyle O'Reilly, and a hundred 
others if there were in existence a pure Catholic taste which would even appropriate it when 
done ? It is a curious and instructive fact that all our American Catholic writers serve their 
apprenticeship on Catholic journals, then pass on to Harper's, the Century, and others, and in 
Catholic circles are heard of no more. 

" Here lies the necessity for the reading club. There are some millions of Catholic 
readers in the country. The majority know as much about the science of navigation as they do 
about Catholic literature. It is the design of the reading club to bring these people together, 
to let them see their deficiencies, to make them acquainted with Catholic literature, native and 
foreign, to warn them of the evil tendencies of secular literature in our day, to form their 
taste on sound principles, and to make them the agents of a revival of interest among all classes 
in American authors and their books, in American journalists and their journals. 

"The plan is sure to succeed. Like every great scheme, it is wonderfully simple, and the 
ground which it covers has plenty of material to work with. The readers are there with their 
imperfectly developed taste and lack of interest, but they must have that self-pride which stirs 
a man's attention, and that love of association which is part of our nature. These things can, 
be counted on, and, with the proper centre and a good executive on hand, there seems no reason 
why the American Reading Club should not become a powerful engine for good." 

To this we would add that we hope " the agents " of this revival will also 
strive to obtain suitable recognition for our Catholic writers in the public 
libraries. DEPARTMENT READING CIRCLES. 



1889.] NEW PUBLICATIONS. 419 



NEW PUBLICATIONS. 

INTEMPERANCE AND LAW. A Lecture by the Most Rev. John Ireland, D.D. 
New edition. Published by St. Paul's Guild, Fifty-ninth Street and 
Ninth Avenue, New York. 

Certainly the question of temperance reform is now generally discussed 
even in the saloons. As good Catholics, we want sobriety for the welfare 
of our church ; we need it also as a civic virtue for the advancement of our 
country. 

We have read every published address and sermon of Archbishop Ire- 
land, including- his great sermon at the Third Plenary Council dealing with 
the relations between church and state, and we venture to say that this 
lecture on Intemperance and Law is one of the best specimens of his vigor- 
ous thought and powerful command of language. Here is a passage which 
is worthy of Webster : 

' The state, in America, it is well to explain, means the voters who elect the men to enact 
laws, and the men to execute them : it means you, my hearers. In this republic the laws prac- 
tically are made and ordered to be executed at the polls, and what is the duty of the state is the 
duty of each citizen at the moment he deposits his ballot on election day. I am no politician ; 
I do not enter into the actual political arena. But 1 beg to proclaim the high principles which 
should govern in political acts. The principles are these : that we must cast our votes for the 
men and the measures that will best promote the welfare of the state and that of its subjects. 
Duty to those principles is above duty to political parties. No party should dare attempt to 
control conscience or the acts which conscience dictates. The merits of the party ticket, not 
the bidding of the party rulers, should receive from us consideration. When the party is able 
to assert that it owns men who must vote its chosen tickets, those men are slaves and their 
right to citizenship is forfeited. Indifference on the part of the great number to all political 
life, indifference to the merits of the ticket seeking their support, has brought upon America 
most serious evils, and it is time for men in the name of country and of religion to arouse them- 
selves to a full sense of their duties as citizens. 

"No sooner is mention made of laws affecting the liquor-traffic than its cry of protest 
quickly reaches our ears. It speaks, it tells us, in the name of personal rights and personal lib- 
erty, violated by the laws which we would enforce or enact. Personal liberty ! It ever was 
the fashion of wrong to bedeck itself with righteous name. Liberty is dear to the American 
people so dear that the name is a passport to all hearts. But will we allow slavery, and vice, 
and death to borrow the precious name and to make their own the privileges and the rights of 
liberty ? It is Liberty herself that commands law to press do vn heavily to-day upon the liquor- 
traffic. The first duty of the liberty-loving citizen is to hold more precious than the apple of 
his eye the life of the republic, the mother and the guardian angel of liberty, to war against its 
enemies and the enemy of the republic is not more he who opposes her flag on the battle field 
than he who scatters moral poison through her towns and villages, and defies in his daily avoca- 
tion her laws and her law-making power. Liberty means the right of all men to enjoy without 
disturbance life and property, not a title for one portion of the community to prowl as hungry 
beasts upon the other. Liberty, O sacred name ! to what base service they chain thee ! They 
ask for liberty to rob of soul and life the minor and the habitual drunkard to break in with riot 
and shame upon the quietness of our Sunday, to track to his home and workshop the poor labor- 
er lest he bring bread to starving wife and children ! They ask for liberty to trample underfoot 
the laws of the land, to level against the republic death-dealing blows ! Not more audacious 
would be the clamoring of the spirit of the furious waters of our great rivers, demanding 
liberty to sweep away whole cities, and to engulf in the maddening abyss hecatombs of human 
lives. No, no ; we know and love liberty, but the cry of the traffic is not the cry of liberty. 

"The first duty of citizens, in reference to the liquor-traffic, is to free the country from the 
political control of the saloon. So long as the saloon is in power, intemperance will run riot 
and wax daily more defiant and more destructive." 



420 NEW PUBLICATIONS. [June, 

This new edition of the lecture makes a pamphlet of twenty-eight pages, 
which is sold at cost price, ten dollars for a thousand copies, under the 
auspices of St. Paul's Guild. We hope it will be widely circulated, espe- 
cially among those who wish to know how to refute the arguments of 
prohibitionists against high license. 

THE LIFE OF ST. FRANCIS XAVIER, APOSTLE OF THE INDIES AND JAPAN. 
From the Italian of D. Bartoli and J. P. Maffei. New York : P. O'Shea. 

It is remarkable that the sixteenth century, the era of countless here- 
sies, should have given the church one of the most glorious apostles of 
the true faith that the world has ever seen. Such was St. Francis Xavier. 
Faber calls him a man mad with the madness of St. Paul and drunk with 
the drunkenness of the Apostles at Pentecost. His zeal was only increased 
by the presence of sin, misery, and unbelief. His is the type of Christian 
enthusiasm which we need most of all to-day. In our country what a 
field ! Catholics to be reclaimed from sin and vice, vast numbers of dis- 
satisfied but honest, truth-seeking Protestants to be won, the negro race 
to be emancipated from spiritual slavery, and the Indians to be civilized 
and Christianized. 

What we have to do, then, is to pray God to send great hearts among 
us. We want missionaries modelled after St. Francis Xavier. And there 
is no one among us who cannot help on the work of the salvation of our 
countrymen. We can be more assiduous in prayer, practise more mortifi- 
cation, and be more generous in our alms. 

The reading of this excellent life will increase one's love for souls. We 
hope, therefore, that this book will be widely circulated. 

LA REVOLUTION FRANCAISE A PROPOS DU CENTENNAIRE DE 1789. Paris. 
1889. 

This monograph of one hundred and fifty-five pages is by Mgr. Frep- 
pel, Bishop of Angers and deputy from Finisterre, upon the occasion of the 
celebration this year of the centennial of the French Revolution of 1789. 
It has already run through thirteen editions, and is very interesting and 
instructive. Its object is to disabuse the minds of those Frenchmen who 
honestly claim or believe that that great political and social upheaval ac- 
complished for France great and excellent reforms which could not have 
been obtained as effectually and completely by any other means, and that 
no progress to speak of had been achieved in preceding ages. The learned 
writer considers that revolutionary inspirations were drawn by the leaders 
and actors in that disastrous epoch from the maxims of the pseudo-philo- 
sophers of the eighteenth century, and in particular of those set forth in the 
Contrat Serial o( Rousseau. The radical character of the movement is elo- 
quently described as that of " a nation " suddenly severing itself from its 
entire past, making at a stated time and, as it were, at once a clean sweep of 
its government, laws, and institutions in order to build on the tabula rasa 
thus created a social edifice new from bottom to top, ignoring every exist- 
ing right and tradition ; though ranking foremost among European nations, 
coming before the entire world to declare that the path followed by France 
for twelve centuries has been all wrong, that she has all that time misap- 
prehended her genius, her mission, and her duties, that in the grandeur 



1 889.] NE W PUBLICA TIONS. 42 I 

and glory achieved in the past there is nothing just or legitimate, that 
there is to be a new beginning as to everything, and that she will know 
neither truce nor peace so long as a single vestige of her past history is 
left standing. 

There were prepared by royal direction, for the consideration of the as- 
sembled tats Gtntraux (Estates General), official, carefully drawn-up docu- 
mentary statements from the various provinces and principal cities and 
towns of the kingdom, showing the ills under which they were suffering, 
and the reforms which it was desired to bring about through the repre- 
sentatives to the assembly, who were elected by perfectly free and fair 
elections. These statements are known as the cahiers of 1789,* and have 
been preserved. They show undeniably the historical fact that only rea- 
sonable, practical, needed reforms were sought ; that there was no idea 
whatever of disturbing the foundations of the monarchy and social order 
then existing, and that there was generally a harmonious understanding 
between the three estates nobility, clergy, and third estate, or com- 
moners about the reforms wanted and the abuses to be removed, which 
latter had in great measure grown out of the absolute royal power that 
had prevailed' since 1614. The principal reforms contemplated embraced 
the abolition of special exclusive privileges, f a better and fairer mode of 
taxation, to the future laying of which the assent of the nation was to be 
indispensably requisite ; its representatives were to have a share in the 
making of laws this last in accordance with the old adage, Lex consensu 
populi fit et constitutione regts. Next came the holding of assemblies of the 
States General every three or five years, the plenitude of executive power 
to be reserved to the king ; a uniform code of laws for the entire realm ; 
abolition of interior custom-houses ; reasonable and proper home rule for 
the provinces ; personal liberty to be protected by law and made free from 
lettres de cachet and other modes of arbitrary arrest ; honors, positions, and 
dignities to be made accessible to all citizens according to personal merit 
and worth. The nobility and clergy, on the 4th of August, declared their 
willingness to unreservedly give up their privileges, and the clergy in par- 
ticular, in April, 1787, in writing to the king, had relinquished all pre-exist- 
ing rights to exemption from taxation, and asked that all citizens without 
exception should be taxed alike, and that certain very oppressive burdens 
should be either abolished or greatly modified. In many of the cahiers 
entire freedom from taxation of every kind was asked for day-laborers, as 
also that the furniture and tools of the poor in city and country should be 
exempt from seizure under execution for debt. So that nothing can be 
plainer than, as Mounier wrote, " the nation wanted to do away with abuse, 
not to upset the throne ; to operate reforms, not make a revolution." 
All these reforms could have been thus obtained more wisely, surely, and 
efficaciousl)% the nation spared the cost of ten revolutions and thirty years 
of fruitless wars; and if the reformatory movement of 1789 had been car- 

* Arthur Young, in his book of travels through France during the years 1787-88-89, 
gives some account of them, and observes as to the uprising beginning in 1789: " Lately 
a company of Swiss would have crushed all this ; a regiment would do it now if led with firm- 
ness ; but let it last a fortnight longer, and an army will be wanting/ 

t Particularly the capitaineries mentioned by Arthur Young, which related to the preser- 
vation of game for the sport of the nobility. 







422 Ni.w PUBLIC A TIONS. \ J i i n e, 

ried out on the conservative, peaceful lines intended, France would have 
given the tone to all Christian Europe and be to-day its leading nation. 

The main feature of the French Revolution which distinguishes it from 
all other changes which have taken place in states is its application of 
rationalism in the civil, political, and social order. It meant not only to do 
away with the Catholic Church, but with all Christianity, all revelation, 
the supernatural order, and to rely in their stead only on what can be 
learned from nature and reason. Its dreadful crimes must have been in- 
spired by Diderot's wish, expressed in Les Eleutheromanes : 

" Et ses mains, ourdissant les ent rallies du pritre 
Enferaient un cordon pour le dernier des rois" ; * 

and Voltaire's cry of " crasoS I'infdme " t has, after a century's interval, 
found its echo in Gambetta's " Le dericatisme, voi'la I'ennemi ! " t 

Freemasonry as a directing force and an undesirable foreign element, 
personified in dangerous refugees from several countries of Europe, were 
very active in the work of the French Revolution, which professed to be 
not exclusively for a national purpose, but to benefit entire humanity. As 
a result, it earned the reprobation and raised the opposition ef all Christian 
Europe. 

The slow but real progress of national liberty in France, which includ- 
ed provincial, municipal, and individual franchises and began in early times, 
was arrested by the centralization which took place through royal power 
in the seventeenth century. The desire to remove this pressure and re- 
store reasonable local government was formally and explicitly expressed in 
the cahiers. As a consequence of the Revolution of 1789, a more centraliz- 
ed form of government than ever before has been fastened on the French 
nation and endures at the present day. It restrains in a tyrannical man- 
ner individual action, oppresses individual consciences and the church. 
Pernicious torrential law-making sprang up in the assemblies of 1789, like, 
to some extent, sad to say, we see in our own day and country. The Con- 
stituante passed in two years 2,557 laws; the Legislative in one year, 1,712 ; 
and the Convention in three years, 11,210. As for the other two parts of 
the revolutionary motto, Equality and Fraternity, Mgr. Freppel demon- 
strates that the idea of levelling down all hierarchical distinctions, no 
matter how legitimate and respectable, to a universal individual equality 
has worked much injury to France ; and the bloody scenes of the Reign of 
Terror, of the insurrection in Paris in June, 1848, and of the Commune in 
1871 show what men, loud-mouthed about Fraternity on a non-Christian 
basis, will do against brethren when they get the opportunity. The intes- 
tine divisions, numerous parties, and partisan hatreds with which France 
is rent and plagued at the present day, in contradistinction to the unity of 
feeling which prevailed after the troubles of the Fronde, constitute a 

* " And weaves, with his hands, the entrails of priests into a cord for strangling the last of 
the kings." 

t " Let us crush the infamous one," referring to Christ's church. 

\ " In clericalism behold our enemy." 

Guizot relates, in his history of France, that after Louis XVI. had been prevailed upon 
to leave Versailles and come to the Hotel de Ville in Paris, as he ascended its steps the numer- 
ous Freemasons in the crowd around him formed in sudden concert over his head the 
Masonic arch with their swords. 



1 889.] NE w PUB LIC A TIONS. 42 3 

curious exhibition of the progress of Fraternity among her sons. Neither 
is it true that the division among small peasant proprietors of large estates 
before held in exclusive possession by the nobility and clergy is one of 
the great benefits for which the Revolution is to be thanked. This change 
of ownership had begun long before 1789; its results did not escape the 
observation of Arthur Young in his travels through France, and the real 
fact is that while peasant owners before the Revolution owned one-half of 
the cultivated land of France, at the present day they hold only one- 
eighth or one-ninth. The entire estates of the clergy and part of those of 
the nobility, scandalously confiscated and sold at the outset of the Revolu- 
tion, were bought by speculators of the middle class and paid for in de- 
preciated paper. The public relief incumbent upon and afforded before by 
these two bodies of land-owners has now to be provided by taxation. It 
needs no argument in a country like this, where voluntary association ac- 
complishes so much, to show that Turgot's maxim, which was carried out 
by the Revolution in the suppression of all guilds of artisans, mechanics, 
and laborers, was entirely and radically wrong. 

Another great distinctive ravage of the French Revolution of 1789 was 
the carrying out of the theory advocated by Condorcet, Lakanal, Lan- 
thenas, and others, repudiated and refuted in our day by Herbert Spencer, 
and which was too bad for paganism to accept to wit : that secular in- 
struction alone suffices to bring about all needed moral training. The 
next step was to make teaching the nation a function of the state and to 
centralize the supervision and direction of all institutions for education 
and of learning, the teaching in which it could and did make as godless as 
it liked, until 1848, when some relief from this despotism was obtained 
through a later revolution. While this system was followed it destroyed 
in these institutions, great and small, all beneficial emulative competition, 
and placed the higher ones at a great disadvantage with others blessed 
with more freedom elsewhere in Europe. 

The enormous burden of military service necessarily borne by the 
population of France at the present day is the direct consequence of , the 
wars of the French Revolution and the Empire, undertaken by the former 
for revolutionary propagandism, which set all Europe at defiance and did 
away with all existing treaties and alliances, and by the latter in a mad 
career of conquest. Before 1789 voluntary enlistments, as in England and 
our country, had supplied all the soldiers needed by France, not only for 
perfect defence, but to render her dreaded by her enemies. The laws of 
loth of March, 1818, and of April 14, 1832, were ineffectual towards restoring 
this former military condition. 

In conclusion, the learned and patriotic writer dwells mournfully on 
the prospects of remedying all the great harm done by the Revolution of 
1789, and of ever healing the extreme party divisions with which France is 
now afflicted. He points out that while internal contentions brought 
about the national ruin of Poland, unity and a firm adherence to institu- 
tions which had been the source of national life and growth were the 
means through which Prussia rose from her fallen condition after the 
defeat of Jena, to become in time a great European power. 

What a contrast between the centennial events celebrated this year in 
our country and in France, which for the latter should be an occasion, not 



424 NEW PUBLICATIONS. [June, 

of national exultation, but of humiliation and lament! What can be more 
disgraceful than to celebrate, as has been done annually for ten years 
past, the capture by an infuriated mob of a prison surrendered almost 
without an attempt at defence, and the innocent defenders of which were 
massacred to a man after surrender ! B. 

LONGMAN'S NEW ATLAS, POLITICAL AND PHYSICAL, for the use of 
schools and private persons. Engraved and lithographed by Edward 
Stanford. Edited by George G. Chisholm, M.A., B.Sc. London and 
New York : Longmans, Green & Co. 

f The special feature of this new atlas is its practical usefulness. Com- 
merce and colonization are matters of the first importance, especially for 
the older countries of the world, and the movement recently set on foot to 
develop the interest of the young in the study of geography as a neces- 
sary means to this end will be admirably ministered to by this work. 

The physical rather than the political features of the world have been 
emphasized; the surface-coloring, for example, indicates the height above 
the sea-level, land less than one thousand feet above that level being col- 
ored differently from that above. In the same way, in rivers, the head of 
navigation for sea-going vessels and for river steamers has in many cases, 
when ascertainable, been indicated. The character of the coast also is 
shown. In many of the newer countries the rainfall is marked, and also 
the position of minerals. All this serves to direct the attention of the 
young to the practical object of geographical study. The maps are well 
up to date, and for the newer countries for example, Bechuanaland and its 
neighborhood, Borneo, the Northwest Territories of Canada the maps 
are far better than those in more expensive atlases. Another important 
advantage is that the maps are constructed either on one scale or on sim- 
ple fractions of the one scale. This is very useful for the sake of compari- 
son ; the ideas of the relative size of different countries formed by boys 
are often very erroneous. A little care in the use of this atlas will easily 
prevent such ideas being formed. 

For general use, however, the fewness of places indicated will form a 
drawback. The editor had to choose here between two courses, and he has 
preferred to preserve its character as an educational work. Consequently, 
those who merely wish to find a place on the map will have to go to a' 
larger atlas, although the index appended will in many cases tell him where 
the place should be, for more names have for this purpose been placed in 
the index than are found on the map. In our opinion this atlas is by far 
the best atlas for schools which has been published up to the present time, 
a nd, with the one exception noted, for general use it will serve better than 
many more expensive works. 

THE HISTORY AND FATE OF SACRILEGE. By Sir Henry Spelman. Edited 
in part from two MSS., revised and corrected, with a continuation, large 
additions, and an introductory essay by two Priests of the Church of 
England. New edition, with corrections, additional notes, and an index, 
by Samuel J. Eales, D.C.L. London : John Hodges. (For sale by 
Benziger Bros., New York, Cincinnati, and Chicago.) 

This is a book with a history. It was begun by Sir Henry Spelman in 



.] NEW PUBLICATIONS. 425 

1612, but owing to various interruptions he did not complete the work 
until 1634. The motive that induced him to undertake its publication was 
his own experience of the " fate of sacrilege, 1 ' since the possession of the 
sites of Blackborough and Wormgay Abbeys, in Norfolk, involved him in 
such continual and expensive lawsuits that he finally gave them up, con- 
fessing that he had been " a great loser and not beholden to fortune, yet 
happy in this, that he was out of the briars, but especially that hereby he 
first discerned the infelicity of meddling with consecrated places.'' On the 
death of the author the MS. was entrusted to the care of the Rev. Jeremy 
Stephens, but owing to the Great Rebellion he was unable to begin to 
print the work until 1663. Even then Stephens was forbidden to publish 
it, lest it should give offence to the nobility and gentry. It continued in 
the press until the great fire of London in 1666, when the whole book was 
supposed to be lost. It was found, however, by Bishop Gibson among 
some MSS. in the Bodleian Library, but again owing to the fear that it 
might be regarded as "an unpardonable reflection upon many families" 
in possession of secularized abbey-lands, the cautious bishop would not 
print it. It was not until the year 1698 that the History of Sacrilege was 
published for the first time by some unknown editor who, " less discreet 
than Gibson,'' would " let the world make what use of it they please.'' 
There was no reprint of the work until 1846, when the task was undertaken 
by the Rev. Dr. Neale and the Rev. Prebendary Webb. They were much 
assisted in their endeavor to give a complete and accurate text by the dis- 
covery of a portion of the original MS. of Sir Henry Spelman, and the 
present is a reprint of their edition, with the addition of many valuable 
notes. 

The work involves the proof of this thesis : " Property consecrated to 
God in the service of his church has generally, when alienated to secular 
purposes, brought misfortunes on its possessors, whether by strange ac- 
cidents, by violent deaths, by loss of wealth, or, and that chiefly, by failure 
of heirs male ; and such property hardly ever continues long in one 
family." Though the author treats of sacrilege and its punishment both 
under the old and the new law and among pagan nations, the greater por- 
tion of his work is a history of the spoliation of the monastery lands under 
Henry VIII. and Queen Elizabeth, and the evils that in consequence befell 
'the crown, the kingdom, and the private owners of such lands. The pres- 
ent age is one that is apt to sneer at such deductions, and to declare it an 
example of post hoc, ergo propter hoc reasoning. But though in the mass of 
facts collated there is much that is not pertinent, much that is without 
force as proof, there is still enough of cogent evidence in support of the 
author's proposition. 

The book has more than historic or local value. In the hands of the 
Anglican churchman it is, of course, an argument, not against further 
seizure of abbey-lands, for there are now no more to seize, but against the 
disestablishment which at present threatens the Church of England. The 
Catholic reader will find in its pages much that will illustrate the now 
famous work of Father Gasquet on the suppression of the English monas- 
teries under Henry VIII., and, if history repeats itself, the fate that attend- 
ed the alienation of church property under that monarch will have an in- 
terest for those who have watched the high-handed robbery of the church 
in Italy. 



426 NEW PUBLICATIONS. [June, 1889. 

THE HEART OF ST. GERTRUDE; or, A Heart according to that of Jesus. 
Translated from the French ot le Pere L. J. M. Cros, S.J., by P. P. S. 
Baltimore : John Murphy & Co. 

This little book is practically a compendium of the life of St. Gertrude. 
It is the story of the virtues characteristic of this highly favored servant of 
God, and as the greater portion of the book is borrowed from her Insinua- 
tions of the Divine Bounty, it is little short of an autobiography. These 
extracts are full of the spirit of the exalted sanctity of her whom both St. 
Teresa and St. Francis de Sales honored and loved as their spiritual 
mother. 

The book is well printed, but is poorly bound. 

GUIDE OF THE MAN OF GOOD WILL IN THE EXERCISE OF MENTAL 
^ PRAYER. By the Very Rev. Joseph Simler, Superior-General of the 
Society of Mary of Paris. Translated from the French. Nazareth, near 
Dayton, Ohio. 

There are several excellent treatises on mental prayer which have been 
published with a view to extend its exercise among the laity. The volume 
before us has the same praiseworthy object and fulfils its purpose fairly 
well. We do not think, however r that in simplicity and clearness it can 
compare favorably with the little treatise of the Abbe Courbon. The book 
has not even good printing to make it attractive ; the press-work in the 
copy before us is oi the poorest quality. 



BOOKS RECEIVED. 
Mention of books in this place does not preclude extended notice in subsequent numbers. 

LECTURES ON THE HISTORY OF PREACHING. By the late Rev. John Ker, D.D., Professor 

of Practical Training in the United Presbyterian Church, Author of Sermons, The 

Psalms in History and Biography, etc. Edited by Rev. A. A. Macewen, M.A., Baliol ; 

B.D., Glasg-ow. Introduction by Rev. Wm. M. Taylor, D.D., LL.D. New York : A. C. 

Armstrong & Son. 
THE WANDERING KNIGHT : His ADVENTUROUS JOURNEY ; OR, A MEDI/BVAL PILGRIM'S 

PROGRESS. By Jean de Cartheny, Brother in the Religious Order of Mount Carmel, and 

Canon-Theologian of the Diocese of Cambrai. Newly translated into English, under 

ecclesiastical supervision, from the edition of 1572. London : Burns & Gates ; New York : 

Catholic Publication Society Co. 
THE GLORIOUS RESURRECTION AND ASCENSION OF JESUS 'CHRIST. Short Meditations from 

Easter to the Ascension. By Richard F. Clarke, S.J. New York, Cincinnati, and 

Chicago : Benziger Bros. 
THE PASTORAL EPISTLES. By the Rev. Albert Plummer, M.A., D,D., Master of University 

College, Durham. New York : A. C. Armstrong & Son. 
MANUALS OF CATHOLIC PHILOSOPHY : LOGIC. By Richard F, Clarke, S.J. New York, 

Cincinnati, and Chicago: Benziger Bros. 
SOLITARIUS TO HIS DAEMON. Three Papers by Charles Edward Barns. New York: Willard 

Fracker & Co. 
THE AMARANTH AND THE BERYL. An Elegy by Charles Edward Barns. New York: 

Willard Fracker & Co. 
THE WAY. THE NATURE AND MEANS OF REVELATION. By John F. Weir, M.A., N.A. 

Boston and New York : Houghton, Mifflin & Co. 
FRENCH TRAITS. An Essay in Comparative Criticism. By W. C. Brownell. New York : 

Charles Scribner's Sons. 
THE HAND-BOOK OF HUMILITY ; OR, THE LOVE OF SELF-CONTEMPT. From the Italian of 

Father Joseph Ignatius Franchi, Superior of the Oratory, Florence. New York : The 

Catholic Publication Society Co. ; London : Burns & Oates. 
THE ASCENT OF MOUNT CARMEL. By Saint John of the Cross, of the Order of Our Lady of 

Carmel. Translated from the Spanish, with a life of the Saint, by David Lewis, M.A. 

Second edition, revised. London : Thomas Baker. (For sale by Benziger Bros., New 

York.) 
THE VIRGIN MOTHER ACCORDING TO THEOLOGY. By the Rev. John Baptist Petitalot, 

Priest of the Society of Mary. Translated from the Third French Edition. London : St. 

Anselm's Society. New York, Cincinnati, and Chicago : Benziger Bros. 
SOCIETY GYMNASTICS AND VOICE CULTURE. Adapted from the Delsarte System. By Gene- 

vieve Stebbins. New York : Edgar S. Werner. 



THE 



CATHOLIC WORLD 



VOL. XLIX. JULY, 1889. No. 292. 



THE CATHOLIC UNIVERSITY AND ITS CONSTITUTIONS. 

THE Brief of Leo XIII. addressed to Cardinal Gibbons and the 
American Bishops, dated the feast of St. Thomas Aquinas, the 7th 
of March last, definitely and finally establishes the Catholic Uni- 
versity of Washington. That document has made the institution a 
living organism. 

The banquet given at the American College, Rome, before 
Bishop Keane's departure, was an inauguration of the institution 
in Rome itself. As Rector of the University of Washington, he 
invited the guests and gathered about him the highest dignitaries 
of the Holy City. Leo XIII. was represented by his Vicar, Cardinal* 
Parocchi ; Cardinal Schiaffino and Cardinal Bianchi were present ; 
Archbishop Jiacobini, Secretary of the Propaganda, represented the 
Cardinal Prefect of that Congregation ; and all of these illustrious 
princes of the church, inspired by the occasion, deviated so far 
from the ordinary stately etiquette of ecclesiastical gatherings in the 
Eternal City as to make speeches remarkable for their eloquence, 
but still more notable for the admiration of America and the deep 
interest in the University which they declare. Cardinal Mazella, 
unable to attend, sent a letter giving his hearty suffrage to the insti- 
tution as a Jesuit, a prelate, and an American. 

As far as the fiat of Catholic authority can extend, our new 
departure for higher studies is equipped with all that the church can 
give. It is not simply recommended or approved ; the University 
is formally established. Its career has begun. Bishop Keane has 
already formed the Divinity Department; selected most of the pro- 
fessors, and entered upon the details of its work. Numbers of 
students have already applied for admission. When studies open, 
next November, in the splendid edifice this moment approaching 
completion, the Catholics of America will have at Washington the 

Copyright. REV. A. F. HBWIT. 1889. 



428 THE CATHOLIC UNIVERSITY [July, 

actual reality of a University for the sacred sciences, adequately 
endowed and in nearly full operation, and an assured early future 
for the literary, scientific, and other departments. The Hierarchy 
proposed it to the people, the people responded with the necessary 
money, and the Holy See has given the most unstinted co-operation 
and approval. 

The Holy See is represented in the conferring of degrees by the 
Chancellor, the Archbishops of Baltimore holding that office ex-officio. 
The supreme authority is fixed in the American Hierarchy, which 
chooses a Board of Moderators at each Plenary Council, consisting 
at present of the Cardinal- Archbishop of Baltimore, the Archbishops 
of Boston, New York, Philadelphia, and St. Paul; the Bishops of 
Peoria, La Crosse, Detroit, and the Vicar- Apostolic of Dakota ; 
Rev. Dr. Chapelle and Rev. T. S. Lee, Very Rev. John M. Farley 
being Secretary, and Mr. Eugene Kelly Treasurer. This body 
represents the Holy See ' and the Episcopate of the United States in 
the government of the University, which is for ever to be subject 
solely to the bishops, the religious orders, however, being cordially 
invited to co-operate in its work and to share in its advantages. 

The immediate government of the University is vested in a 
Rector chosen by the Board of Moderators, a Senate, a Vice- Rec- 
tor, Secretary, and other necessary officers. The Professors are 
chosen and removed by the Board of Moderators, conferring with 
the University Senate and with the faculties in question. The Sen- 
ate of the University consists of the Deans and two Professors of 
each faculty, the former being members ex-officio, the latter elected 
by their respective faculties. The Senate is to meet monthly, and, in 
union with the Rector, to legislate for the well-being of the institu- 
tion. Provision is also macle for associate professors and tutors. 

Students are to be admitted only after careful examinations, or 
on the production of satisfactory proof that they have finished the 
ordinary previous curriculum. Between the University and the 
Catholic colleges and seminaries of the United States a fast bond of 
union is formed by the fact that diplomas or other evidences of pro- 
ficiency issued by affiliated institutions shall stand instead of examin- 
ation for matriculation. The degrees of Doctorate and Licentiate 
in theology, as well as the usual academical honors in the other 
departments, are to be merited by distinguished scholarship, estab- 
lished by thorough examinations, and for drvinity students are fixed 
according to the standard established at Rome. On inquiry we 
found that this was meant to be the minimum, and that it is the 
intention, in conferring degrees, to follow the custom of Louvain and 
the German universities. 



.J AND ITS CONSTITUTIONS. 429 

Questions may be asked just here as to the relation of the 
University to other institutions of learning, especially the faculty of 
Divinity to the local seminaries ; such questions are in order, and it 
may safely be said that the seminaries will be helped every way. It 
is possible that as time goes on the seminaries may see their 
advantage in modifying their course of studies, with a view to 
harmony of results. This much, however, is certain : no change 
is desired which will not benefit the seminaries and the colleges of 
the church in America. When the Holy Father speaks of their 
affiliating with the University, he does not mean that they shall 
become succursal to it. There is no disposition whatever to lower 
their standard, or in any wise to abridge the present scope of their 
activity as seats of learning. There shall be no curtailment of their 
present power of conferring degrees. The words of the Holy 
Father and of the statutes plainly indicate that there should be 
some harmonious relationship established between all Catholic 
institutions of learning in the United States, for the advancement of 
education in all its grades. Seminaries in particular will feel an 
immediate benefit from the influence of the University. 

Just how the relationship shall be established it is too early to 
venture an opinion. Methods must be tried, some rejected, others 
retained, and the experience of all concerned will so shape a policy 
as to secure the common end proposed. The University starts with 
broad, general principles, and committed to very few particular 
methods. There will be time and opportunity to learn how to 
accommodate various educational interests. One thing, however, is 
certain : the new institution is to be a university ; its course of 
studies will not travel over the seminary or college ground. It 
is true that Rome suggested, and put in the statutes, permission 
to give a full college or seminary course of studies. But this 
is to be used at the discretion of the University, and there is not 
the least purpose to use it in the immediate future. The time may 
come when it will be, if practical, used for the preparation of 
candidates for foreign missions, or for the higher training of women, 
or some such special purpose. 

It seems that the inspection of foreign universities and the study 
of their methods, made by the Rector during his two protracted visits 
to Europe, resulted in impressing his mind more favorably with the 
German methods than the English. In Germany the university 
presupposes the gymnasium and the school, and so it must be here. 
This particularly applies to the conferring of degrees, the minimum 
requirements for which are fixed by the statutes. It is not expected 
that degrees will ever be given on that basis, but rather after the 

VOL. XLIX. 28 



430 THE CATHOLIC UNIVERSITY [J ul y ? 

models of Louvain and the German universities. Degrees will only 
be arrived at by a small proportion of the students. All, however, 
who have made the preliminary studies can enter, and perfect 
themselves. Any particular department of learning can be chosen 
and pursued to completion. Specialists can be fitted for their 
professional careers, and the general outfitting of professors pro- 
vided for. But the main business of the University, as far as 
concerns the Divinity faculty, will be to give so large a propor- 
tion of the clergy a post-graduate course, short or long, as to 
raise the intellectual standard of the whole body of the clergy. 
It is an error to suppose that the sole, or even the chief, aim 
of the University is to make doctors of divinity, or to equip 
specialists, or to train professors. The new institution is for 
these uses, indeed, but it is mainly for the whole clergy, and 
every effort will be made to attract clerical students, allowing a 
generous elective system of studies under the supervision of the 
University faculties. The University is for the whole clergy and 
people ; at the same time it is emphatically for superior grades ot 
study, not running in competition with the seminary course. To 
secure the ends in view the authorities of the University will seize 
every opportunity to consult with our colleges and seminaries for 
the purpose of making our entire system of education harmonious. 
When it is said that the scope of the University will be the per- 
fecting of the seminary course, something more must be added it 
will serve a purpose with young priests who have been already on 
the mission. It is commonly enough said that one does not know 
what he should study most till his studies are over. The priest 
newly entered on the labors of the mission often finds that the 
theological treatises which most attracted him do not serve him in 
proportion to the time or labor spent upon them. . They serve 
others, but not him. They were delightful to study, but he finds 
that his tempefament or his opportunities unsuit them for fruitful 
use with the people. Furthermore, he often discovers that treatises 
he minimized at the seminary are the very ones which he could 
most efficaciously employ in his ministry. At present there is 
really no way for remedying this difficulty ; no one thinks of 
returning to the seminary, and circumstances almost universally 
forbid systematic study on the mission. Now, the University will 
give such men all they want of supplementary study. There they 
will be treated with that courtesy due their state of life ; given 
every opportunity to study, and guided to do it systematically : 
even one or two years thus spent will amply repay for the 
moderate expense, and compensate for absence from active labors. 



1889.] AND ITS CONSTITUTIONS. 431 

Such a student's contact with the world will have sharpened his 
faculties and have intensified his zeal, while it will have enabled him 
to choose with discretion the branches most useful to him for his 
career in the ministry. In this connection we rejoice that the study 
of Scripture has been made the foremost (ante omnia) in the curric- 
ulum of the Divinity department. The defence of revelation, its 
necessity, the authenticity of the sacred books, the agreement of 
revealed truth with history and with science here is a body of study 
absolutely requisite for the proper equipment of an intelligent priest, 
face to face with the American people. At the same time the cir- 
cumstances of this age but render the written word of God more 
than ever the fountain from which to draw the waters of life for 
distribution to the Catholic people. We feel certain that for a sup- 
plementary course in Scripture alone there are many young priests 
in this country who would thank God and their bishops for a year or 
two at the University. In a lesser degree the same may be said of 
other branches, especially of canon law for those who, as secretaries 
and chancellors, will be called on to assist in the government of 
dioceses. 

We may not be able to compete in learning with the Old World 
as yet ; the students of the Old World have a leisurely persistence of 
study, a sober, patient determination to achieve results in details, 
which is quite, or almost quite, unknown in any department of life 
in America. We are too hurried to become thoroughly learned. 
This explains why, considering the numbers who venture a high 
course of studies here, and considering their undoubted intellectual 
gifts, there is so small a class of really distinguished scholars in 
America. The Catholic Church, however, tends to correct this 
defect. High intellectuality is a necessity of a dogmatic religion. 
Decay of intellectual life sets in the moment the objects of study 
become tainted with uncertainty. Furthermore, the history of 
philosophical and theological speculation proves that it is not 
without what may be called discoveries. But whether the Joy be in 
new views of ethical and religious problems, or in the powerful pre- 
sentment or clearer perception of established views, the joy of 
certitude is perennial. The zest of discovery is but one of the 
rewards of the student's faithful application, especially when his 
inward conviction is guaranteed by the external criterion of Catholic 
authority. The fields of knowledge outside the boundaries of 
dogma are wide, varied, and attractive, and for the Catholic are 
lighted up by the irradiating splendor of revealed truth. . Experi- 
ence shows that the admirable persistence of the student of natural 
sciences, bent upon discovery, is rivalled and more than rivalled 



432 AVE VERUM. [July, 

by the perseverance of the student of philosophy and revelation, 
whose reward is the ever clearer knowledge and ever deeper joy of 
absolute truth. 

Boundless then, and most attractive to noble minds, is the field oi 
deeper study, of broader and higher learning, opened to the people 
of our land by our Catholic University. They to whom the invi- 
tation is first extended are hastening to profit by it. Already it is 
made manifest that the mere offering of advantage and opportunity 
is sure to arouse eagerness for their acquisition. Shortly we shall 
see wider advantages, more abundant opportunities, offered to the 
people at large. The result will assuredly be the awakening of a 
zeal for higher learning, which will rival what we read of in the 
educational history of the past, and give needed lustre to our New 
World. 



AVE VERUM. 

" Ave verum corpus natum de Maria Virgine, 
Vere passum, immolatum in Cruce pro homine. 
Cujus latus perforatum unda fluxit et sanguine, 
Esto nobis praegustatum mortis in examine. 
O dulcis ! O pie! O Jesu, fili Marias !" 

HAIL, thou self-same dear Befriender, 

Of the maiden Mary born, 
Who a loving life didst render 

Once upon the tree of scorn ; 
Of thy blood, for us, expender, 

From the heart with lances torn : 
O be with us ! O be tender, 

Jesus ! on our dying morn ! 



1889.] THE TRUTH ABOUT THE FRENCH-CANADIANS. 433 



THE TRUTH ABOUT THE FRENCH-CANADIANS. 

FOR various and oftentimes peculiar reasons Canada has played 
a prominent part in United States history, both before and since 
the Revolution. To any one familiar with that history it is hardly 
necessary to say that Canada's part has always been as agreeable 
to herself as it has been disagreeable to us. Before the Revolution 
chivalry and romance seem to have been chiefly on her side, so that 
her final defeat assumed the noble proportions of a tragedy. Can- 
ada had been the base of operations for that scheme which purposed 
to secure as French domain the entire continent outside of the 
thirteen English colonies. In executing it French generals over- 
threw Braddock, captured Oswego and Fort William Henry, re- 
pulsed Abercrombie at Ticonderoga, and kept at bay for months 
three different armies in Ohio, on Lake Champlain, and under the 
famous ramparts of Quebec. In the Revolution Canada, now under 
English rule, was again the base of operations for Burgoyne's nearly 
successful attempt to isolate New England, a scheme which Cana- 
dians did nothing to aid, while many of them, mindful of the past, 
enlisted under Schuyler and did good service against the British. 
In the War of 1812 our manoeuvres on the New York frontier left 
a victory with the Canadians, and put an end to the idea of invasion 
on our part, while bringing us the little return compliment which 
ended with the battle of Plattsburgh. In 1865 our precipitate 
refusal to renew certain treaties concerning Canadian trade seems 
to have been the last impulse towards union of which Canadian and 
English statesmen stood in need. What we intended as a kick for 
her secession sympathies, Canada accepted with joy as something 
much better, and was enabled thereby not only to form the 
Dominion, but to make up in other countries her loss of American 
markets. 

For the fifth time in a century and a half we are again brought 
into contact with Canadians, this time on the matter of annexation, 
and are evidently preparing ourselves for the same process of bam- 
boozling which has regularly overcome all our diplomats in their 
dealings with the country of the beaver and the maple-leaf. 

Every one knows that the territory called Canada extends from 
the Atlantic to the Pacific, but what every one does not know is that 
of all this vast territory the exact centre, socially and politically, the 
most sensitive spot in the whole area, the hub, the pivot, the balance- 



434 THE TRUTH ABOUT THE FRENCH-CANADIANS. [July, 

wheel of all things Canadian is the province of Quebec. To defend 
this statement properly it would be necessary to go deeply into 
Canadian history, a temptation I shall resist ; but I can at least say 
a few words in praise of our own country by way of producing the 
precise effect to be gained from a historical narration. When Eng- 
land took possession of Canada treaty stipulations secured to the 
little colony a peaceful exercise of all privileges granted to it by the 
French king. These were increased when the American colonies 
began to raise the standard of revolt and to coax Canada to join 
them. They were again increased when the United States grew 
into Britain's commercial rival. In fact the entire success of Quebec 
in holding its own may justly be attributed in large part to American 
strength and consequent English jealousy, apart from certain power- 
ful forces employed by Canadians themselves. To counteract the 
strength of these left-handed favors, - Britain with her right hand 
administered two gilded antidotes to wide-awake Quebec. She 
established the government free-school, and introduced English 
settlers into the new townships south of the St. Lawrence. The 
Canadians, maintaining. their own schools, allowed the first to rot, 
and crowded out the second ; and then by a popular uprising put 
an end to the policy of antidotes. With America on the border 
Britain could not say a word. The Catholic province retained her 
religion, her control of education, and her language. In other 
words, the French-Canadians went in for home rule with all their 
might, and, thanks to the American successes in that matter, spent 
not their might in vain. 

Then came the era of confederation, which demonstrated clearly 
the power and standing of Quebec. The union of the provinces 
was attained only by her consent, and her consent was won only 
on conditions, among which were that the French language should 
have equal place in the government at Ottawa with the English, 
and that Quebec hold all her privileges. It has seemed to me that 
England hoped sooner or later, in making all these concessions, to 
see the French province overborne and wiped out by the force of 
British immigration. That hope has long been dispelled. The 
English in Quebec province are a minority whose deepest humilia- 
tion is that they must speak French in order to do business. Not 
only are the Canadians firmly rooted in their native soil, they have 
also outposts in Ontario, Northern New York, and New England, 
a breakwater against the shocks of possible invasion ; and when- 
ever any question arises concerning the national interests of Canada 
the first thought in the minds of Canadian statesmen is the opinion 
of Quebec. 



1889.] THE TRUTH ABOUT THE FRENCH-CANADIANS. 435 

I have thus made good in a brief way my assertion of Quebec's 
all-powerful position in the Dominion of Canada. It is a position 
which causes much irritation at home, and more misunderstanding 
abroad. The best mouth-piece of that irritation is Prof. Goldwin 
Smith, of Toronto, and a daily journal in the same city known as 
The Mail. Both present some excellent English in their utterances, 
and both have posed to the American public as authorities in 
matters French-Canadian. It can easily be guessed, from a perusal 
of what I have so far written, just how an English-Canadian might 
feel towards the history and inhabitants of Quebec. Goldwin Smith 
is a good exponent of that feeling, and in his writings far more than 
in the thundering and hysterical periods of The Mail can be found 
that genuine grief and surprise which only an Englishman can feel 
at the audacity of British subjects making any language but English 
the official tongue of a British province. This is almost the sole 
crime which has been charged against Quebec by its sister prov- 
inces, and I sincerely believe that it is also the inspiration of the 
inflated talk about annexation and reciprocity. 

Quebec is an out-and-out Canadian province, and has a hearty 
natural contempt for everything not French-Canadian. The best 
standard is itself. It has refused all things English, even those 
which were good, more than content with its own systems and 
inventions. It has insisted on having share and share alike in the 
French government with Ontario. Politicians like Sir John Mac- 
donald strive in silence to keep order in the household, but men 
like Goldwin Smith, having no other interest in Canada than what 
is personal, keep Rome howling with protests against Quebec and 
its un-English methods. No opportunity has been missed to stir 
up ill-feeling between the races with a view to shaking the strong 
position of Quebec. This is a conquered province, is Mr. Smith's 
argument, and it should be Anglo-Saxon inside and out, from the 
color of the French-Canadian's skin to the beating of his heart. He 
advocates that it be made Anglo-Saxon at once, by such wonderful 
measures as the stamping out of the French language and the 
uprooting of the church, and because no Canadian will undertake 
the task, he hopes to initiate a movement which, under the name of 
commercial union, will make the United States a party to the future 
crushing of French Quebec. 

It is a hopeful sign for the party to be crushed that Goldwin 
Smith has never succeeded in anything except scolding in fine 
English and making prophesies which are yet to come to pass. But 
he has impressed that class of people which sighs for the extirpation 
of Catholicity in South America and Mexico, and he is often taken 



436 THE TRUTH ABOUT THE FRENCH-CANADIANS. [July, 

as an authority on Canadian matters by American editors, who 
publish his lame statements and extravagant inferences as truthful, 
and who, already knowing little of Canada, thereby learn to know 
less. For the benefit of these people I now turn to the three prime 
statements concerning the French-Canadians which Goldwin Smith 
and his followers have made popular on this continent, and which 
they affect to believe, viz : That the French-Canadians are super- 
stitious, ignorant, and degraded ; that they are unprogressive ; that 
they are priest-ridden. From which statements is to be inferred 
that the cultured, progressive, and priestless Anglo-Saxon race 
should go to Quebec and absorb the French species from off the 
face of the earth. This policy is Britannic in conception, and Mr. 
Smith thinks it easy of execution. 



I. 

Are the French- Canadians superstitious, ignorant ', and degraded? 

Let us consult our figures. When it is said that a race is ignor- 
ant, Englishmen and Americans mean usually that education is not 
popular or prevalent among them, that the government does not 
provide school facilities, that if it does the people do not take ad- 
vantage of them. When it is said that a race is degraded, the same 
parties may mean a hundred different things. Usually the word 
degraded conveys to the English and American mind filthy personal 
habits, filthy social habits, low standard of intellect, and entire 
absence of refinement. It is an accepted truth with us that where 
education is well diffused degradation finds it hard to get a footing. 
If, therefore, I can prove that popular education has proper attention 
paid to it in Quebec, it will be in itself a sufficient response to the 
charge of Canadian degradation. However, not satisfied with that, 
I will then give my personal experience with this people, an experi- 
ence which Mr. Goldwin Smith never had, and the lack of which 
renders him utterly incompetent to do more than theorize about 
them. 

The report of the Superintendent of Education for the Province 
of Quebec lies before me. The name of this superintendent is 
Gedeon Ouimet, a clever man who, it is said, owes his education 
to a curious custom in Canada. The sixteenth child of Canadian 
parents is entitled by tradition to a college course at the expense 
of the cure in whose parish the child is born. Mr. Ouimet is a 
sixteenth child, and got the full benefit of the tradition. The pop- 



1889.1 THE TRUTH ABOUT THE FRENCH-CANADIANS. 



437 



ulation of Quebec is 1,360,000, ot which the Protestants number 
one-seventh, 186,000. Here is the tabulated statement of the con- 
dition of education : 



Roman 

Catholic. Protestant. 



Universities, 

Colleges, academies, model schools, . 

Elementary schools, 

Science schools, 

Deaf-mute and schools for the blind, . 
State art and industrial schools, . . 

Totals, 



i 

565 

3,586 

i 

4 



i 

78 
998 



Total. 

2 

643 
4,584 

2 

5 
73 



4,157 



1,079 



5,249 



Teachers, 6,815 

State teachers, 

Pupils of special schools, 

Students of universities, 575 

" normal schools, 185 

" colleges, etc., 74,795 

Pupils of elementary schools, .... 143,848 



1,416 


8,231 





35 





1,720 


772 


i,347 


96 


281 


6,155 


80,950 


30,461 


174,309 



Totals, 219,403 37,484 268,607 

The money spent by the French-Canadians on education is par- 
tially represented by the following figures. The colleges and 
convents are self-supporting, and do not enter into these statistics : 

Assessed value of real estate in Quebec, ...... $320,309,259 

Annual school-tax, fees, grants, and contributions, . . 1,183,757 

Cost per head of education (about), 11 

The studies taught in the elementary schools, and the time 
given to each study, during two sessions of three hours each, are : 

Reading, i hour; catechism, % hour; geography, % hour; writing, 5-6 
hour ; gramrnar, }4 hour ; arithmetic, i hour ; history, y 2 hour. 

The normal schools are about on a par with those of our own 
country, the convents and academies hold a similar position, and the 
colleges aim to give a fair classical education to fit their students for 
any of the learned professions. The doctors, lawyers, clergymen, 
many of the business men, the professors and male teachers in the 
colleges and elsewhere, have, one and all, made the classical course 
of these institutions. 

These figures are by themselves very convincing. In proportion 
to its population the province of Quebec is better provided with 



438 THE TRUTH ABOUT THE FRENCH-CANADIANS. [July, 

schools and teachers than most countries of the civilized world. 
The whole paraphernalia of the modern educational system is there 
in modest perfection. The figures in this case do not lie, for they 
are backed by the testimony of Catholics and Protestants alike, 
and how Goldwin Smith and his supporters can look them in the 
face and then call the Canadians ignorant and degraded, is one of 
those things no fellow can understand. 

The figures, however, do not in this instance tell all the truth. 
The Canadians have that strong love of education which is inherent 
in any people long deprived of it by the injustice of government. For 
years there was no school for them but the free English school, to 
which they would not send their children. They were able only to 
put up poor primary schools for teaching the commonest branches. 
From the necessity of providing a better means of education sprang 
the Canadian college and convent, the most popular method of 
education in Canada. Look at the statistics above. The proportion 
of Catholic to Protestant in the elementary schools is 5 to I ; in the 
normal schools, 2 to I ; in the universities, I to I ^ ; but in the 
collegiate schools it is 1 1 to I. It is the great desire of the Canadian 
parent to give the boy and the girl a course at the college or the 
convent. 

Another point is to be observed. The attendance at the 
elementary schools ought to be as seven to one in favor of the 
Catholic portion of the community. It is less than that because the 
children do not go. Between the ages of seven and fourteen years 
there are in Quebec 32,000 children who do not attend school at all. 
The reasons are various. The parents are poor, the winters are 
severe, and most of the parents belonging to this class have really 
not enough interest in the education of their children to send them 
to school. It is this class which at first made up the bulk of the 
immigration to Ontario and the States. They were not of savory 
reputation at home, and they gave their honest brethren a doubtful 
reputation abroad. They are not Quebec, however, and our 
evangelizing brethren, before raising their hands in horror at 
this statement, had better count the illiterates of Massachusetts 
and New York. 

If the Canadians are educated, can they be degraded ? I 
leave the settlement of the question to those interested, and 
tell what I saw and what I know. If degradation consists 
in the items enumerated above, the Canadians are still far 
from it. They are as neat and cleanly a people as ever 
graced the earth. Their humblest cabins have about them a 
cleanliness unequalled by any people. Politeness is a second 



1889.] THE TRUTH ABOUT THE FRENCH-CANADIANS. 439 

nature with them. Of the eight provinces of the Dominion, 
Quebec is second in practising the virtue of sobriety. In the 
year 1885 the convictions for different crimes in Quebec num-* 
bered 7,223 ; in Ontario, 20,097. I n character they are sociable 
and peaceful, in intellect very bright and witty. The young people 
resemble their French ancestors- in facial expression; the old 
develop a Celtic ruggedness very closely akin to- the Irish type. 
Morally, the people of Quebec are far ahead of any other on this 
continent. This is all the more to their praise because they are 
of warm temperament and might be' excused for some excesses. I 
have here put down their virtues, leaving it to their enemies to 
find out their faults, if they can. I challenge any honest man to 
say, from actual knowledge of Quebec, that its people are in any 
sense degraded. 

II. 

Are the Canadians unprogressive ? 

Before answering this question there is imposed on me the 
difficult task of defining what Englishmen and Americans mean 
by progress. Many of us do not ourselves know the exact mean- 
ing, or the strength of the various meanings which we give the 
word. If a nation passes from Catholicity to atheism, many will 
call that progress. If an individual or a nation becomes wealthy 
quickly, and uses wealth in ornamenting property and introduc- 
ing the latest improvements, that is called progress also. If a 
parent prefers inferior instruction for his child, in a religious 
school, to superior training in a godless, irreligious, or indifferent 
institution, he is said to be unprogressive. It seems, however, to 
be admitted on all sides that if a nation increases in population 
and wealth, admits and encourages all modern inventions, has 
perfect freedom of the press, invests in the railroad, the telegraph, 
the telephone, the electric light, and shows a strong commercial 
spirit, it must be progressive. Let us examine the Canadians by 
this rule. 

The Province of Quebec has not many physical advantages. 
It is most of the year under winter's control. Its territory north 
of the St. Lawrence consists in a narrow strip of land lying 
along the river. Its only great city is Montreal, between which 
and Toronto there has always been rivalry. Montreal still leads. 
Ontario has taken all Canadian immigration. It has also been 
drained by the departure of its citizens for Manitoba and the 
States. 



440 THE TRUTH ABOUT THE FRENCH-CANADIANS. [July, 

Quebec has had no immigration and has also suffered from 
the departure of its people to Ontario, Manitoba, and the States. 
It has been the long-settled district of Canada, but Ontario has 
had the advantage of more land. Still, the population of Quebec 
is 1 >3S9> Q2 7 to Ontario's 1,923,228. At one time Ontario thought 
it possible to drive the French out of the province, and they 
started an English business colony at Montreal, which up to 
their advent was a slow, dull city. All that the English knew 
of business the French learned, and enough more to drive out 
the English from many industries and lines of business. This is 
real progress. Here are a few figures : 

Number of acres of land owned : Ontario, 23,309,264 

" " " " Quebec, 18,000,378 

Number of owners: Ontario, 266,485 

" " " Quebec, i75>73! 

Value of real estate under mortgage: Ontario, . $174,676,062 39 
" " " " " Quebec, . . 1,949,638 oo 

Amount overdue and in default on mortgages : 

Principal. Interest. 

Ontario, $2,685,010.79 $895,162 18 

Quebec, 94,503.20 8,237 56 

Amount invested and secured by mortgage deeds : 

Ontario, $78,706,585 07 

Quebec, 864,984 44 

Number of mortgages upon which compulsory proceedings were taken 

in the year 1885 : Ontario,. 664 

Quebec, 19 

Aggregate amount of mortgages upon which compulsory proceedings 

have been taken in 1885 : Ontario, $ I >373>36 88 

Quebec, 19,231 47 

Rate of interest : Ontario, 5 to 10 per cent. 

" ". Quebec, . ." 4 to 7 per cent. 

There is progress for you, from the Catholic and Protestant 
standpoints ! Quebec is Catholic, Ontario is Protestant, yet the 
above proof shows that Quebec is sixteen times less mort- 
gaged than its sister province. It has only 16 loan companies to 
Ontario's 79 ! The Quebec people are certainly not in the hands 
of the Jews. They own their land, and they provide for their 
children in new townships, when they are ready to leave the 



1889. J THE TRUTH ABOUT THE FRENCH-CANADIANS. 



441 



paternal care. As to the business done by both provinces, here 
are the figures for certain years : 



f 1882 
I 1883 

Ontario \ 1884 
1885 



Importation. 

$41,690,760 
44,666,445 
41,967,215 
39,828,083 
39,069,475 



Exportation. 

$40,765,921 
42,890,019 
26,891,517 
28,434,731 
27,088,868 



Quebec - 


1882 . . . $53,105,257 
1883 . . . 55.907,871 
1884 . . . 49,122,472 
1885 . . . 46,733,038 
k 1886 . . . 45,001,694 


$38,972,121 
32,642,986 
42,029,678 
39,604,451 

38,171,339 


In 1886 Ontario exported of her home 
produce and manufacture, .... 


$24,092,536 



In 1886 Quebec exported of the same, 



32,622,066 



Value 

per head. 

$20.75 

16.46 

13.24 

I3-78 
12.92 

$28.21 

30.47 
29.67 

27.64 
26.33 

11.49 
22.50 



So that the trade of Quebec is double per head that of 
Ontario. Is not this substantial material progress ? There are 
in Ontario 140,000 Canadians, in the States at least half a mil- 
lion, the contribution which Quebec has made to her neighbors 
while holding her own at home. With a good educational system, 
with steady increase in population and wealth, with the foremost 
position in the Dominion because of these things, well supplied 
with railroads and canals, telegraph and telephone lines, . a natur- 
ally enthusiastic press for a Canadian in print is usually wild 
a large body of sharp business men who let no opportunity 
escape, we do not see how Quebec can be called unprogressive. 
The worst that can be said of her will not gainsay the fact that 
she entirely surpasses Ontario in actual business and in future 
prospects. Moreover, Quebec has what her sister province has 
not a distinct and important literature. The works of many of 
her writers have been crowned by the French Academy. She 
has historians, antiquarians, and poets of such calibre as Ontario 
has not yet produced. She is constantly producing original works 
of merit, where Ontario, with Goldwin Smith in her bosom, does 
not produce a single book. 

III. 

Is Quebec priest-ridden ? 

Like our immortal Washington, and unlike our mortal separated 
editorial brethren, we cannot answer no. Quebec is priest-ridden 
to an alarming extent; to such an extent indeed that the priests, not 
finding enough people to accommodate their autocratic instincts at 



442 THE TRUTH ABOUT THE FRENCH-CANADIANS. [July, 

home, are moving into the States along with Quebec immigrants. 
There are in this unhappy province perhaps fifteen hundred priests, 
and a small army of religious living on the fat of the land and the 
strength of the people, and in spite of their number, their comfortable 
circumstances, and the efforts of wise men like Goldwin Smith and 
the editors of the Toronto Mail, New York Independent, Christian 
Advocate, Churchman, and like journals, to discredit them, they 
enjoy the tithes, the respect, and the love of their people. Again 
and again have humane politicians striven to root them out and to 
shake the people's esteem for them in vain. The Canadian of 
Quebec will not be induced to take his church tithes and put them 
into his own pocket, much as he loves and hoards money. The 
Protestant spiritual and political missions to them have been mourn- 
ful failures. Even Mr. Chiniquy had to retire to Illinois. 

We admit this is the one serious defect (as Protestants judge 
matters) in the Quebec provincial. There are reasons for it. The 
French- Canadian of any rank in life feels that God can confer on 
his family no greater honor than to make one of his boys a priest, 
one of his girls a nun. This is curious in view of one or two circum- 
stances. The life of the ordinary priest or nun in Canada is not 
financially a happy one. The nuns, for instance, are bound to 
absolute poverty, and are of no manner of material assistance to their 
friends and relatives. The salary of the city curate in Montreal is 
one hundred and twenty dollars per annum, with scant per- 
quisites ; of the town and country curates, sixty to eighty dollars, 
with no perquisites at all. The ordinary third-rate parishes in 
a diocese as wealthy as Montreal represent an annual income 
of about eight hundred dollars, the second-rate twelve hundred 
or fourteen hundred dollars, and the very best do very well if 
they present their cure with two thousand dollars. There 
are fourth-rate and fifth-rate parishes of which we shall 
not speak, and there are also poorer dioceses than Montreal, 
which have also their fifth-rate parishes.* It seems to make little 
difference to the Canadian, so long as his son is the priest. There- 
fore Protestant missions have found it difficult to bribe this people. 
Honor seems to mean more to them than soup, and they are 
evidently determined to continue in their present priest-ridden con- 
dition. We apologize for them to our separated brethren. But as 
we have shown them to be a progressive, money-making, educated 
people, it is to be presumed they know their own business here as in 
other matters. If they wish to spend their money on useless priests 

* The priests of religious orders in some cases get sixty dollars per year, and in others 
simply their life support. 



1889.] THE TRUTH ABOUT THE FRENCH-CANADIANS. 443 

and nuns, they have only that same fault which induces our 
Protestant brethren to throw away their cash on Mexican missions. 

We have heard two recent writers express their deep pity for the 
taxes levied by the church on the Canadians, as evidenced in the 
magnificent churches everywhere met with in Canada. These 
churches are the admiration of strangers, Catholic and Protestant. 
They are always solid and durable, built of stone, of great size and 
often of magnificent Canadian embellishment. It is impossible to 
find in Quebec a really poor or insignificant structure in a canonical 
parish, and the beauty and cleanliness of their sanctuaries are a 
delight to the Catholic heart. Have these churches been really a 
burden to the Catholics of Quebec ? There is one feature of 
Canadian character which forbids us to say that they have. The 
close, economical, almost stingy habits of this people justify me in 
saying that they will not impoverish, nor burden, nor even tire 
themselves in supporting the church. They are tenacious of the 
faith, but also of their cash. This is the testimony of my own long 
experience and of all their authorities. They are impulsive on every 
point but that which marks the difference between loss and gain. 
They are ready for financial sacrifices, have made them often, but 
they have tried every other method first. 

These churches have been constructed by many generations. 
Quebec is in existence two hundred years. When a district desires 
to erect a new church the taxable people have first to convene and 
state their willingness to subscribe to a church of a certain cost. 
Monseigneur 1'Eveque will hear of nothing until substantial aid is 
not only promised but actually secured in the shape of cash or notes 
of hand. Then the Fabrique is organized that is, the board of 
trustees which is not, as with us, a formal affair, but a board of real 
officials, whose duty it is to look after the church revenues and keep 
the property in good condition. Certain taxes are imposed for that 
purpose, and as they fall on all alike there is no such thing as a 
burden on any one. When a Catholic owns land or houses, he is 
taxed by government. If he owns nothing, his tax is two dollars a 
year for the support of the church. The free-seat idea is carried to 
an extreme among the churches, and an immense charity and lati- 
tude prevail in the collecting of the revenues. This without fear of 
question can be said of the Canadian priests, that they are the least 
provided with money of any on the continent. I call it a grievous 
fault in Canadians that with all their love for their priests, they 
should allow them to 'live so poorly. Poverty is an ecclesiastical 
virtue, but it is carried too far among Canadian clergymen. 

A final word will not be out of place on the agitation which for 



444 THE TRUTH ABOUT THE FRENCH-CANADIANS. [July, 

nearly ten years has been kept up by Protestants and Orangemen 
concerning Quebec. The position which this plucky province has 
held and improved for fifty years is one which commends itself in 
particular to Americans. It is the home-rule position. The rights 
which it secured for itself in the Dominion are precisely the rights 
which Ontario and Nova Scotia enjoy. Its people founded the 
province and reclaimed it from the wilderness, fought, suffered, and 
bled for it, held by treaty the old status of their social forms and 
religion and language. What they have is their own, and they pro- 
pose to hold it against any hostile power. The general laws of the 
British Empire they have honestly obeyed, but they have not per- 
mitted the Ottawa Parliament or the Privy Council to Anglicize 
them. The home-rule principle is their platform. It is thoroughly 
American, and the man who opposes them is a traitor to American 
ideas. 

Who are their opponents ? The Orangemen of Ontario, and the 
faction represented by Goldwin Smith, whose names are now, as 
they always have been, the watchwords of infamy or foolishness; the 
Churchman, the Christian Advocate, the Independent, and their satel- 
lites, whose pretence is a profound Americanism in politics and 
religion, and whose practice is a compound of Lutheran bigotry and 
English malice ; whose principles admit Catholicity into the Christian 
fold, and whose practices place it beneath paganism ; whose words 
are always for more liberty, and whose acts for less. They wish the 
French language stamped out of Quebec because they who use it are 
Catholics, and the race wiped out because they are not Anglo- 
Saxon. What they advocate for this province they dare not even 
hint to the Protestant Germans in America. It is good for Quebec 
to have such enemies as these. That cause which they have once 
opposed because it was Catholic has always succeeded. Without 
principle in regard to Catholic matters, they have therefore been 
without argument, and their opposition has excited public attention 
and interest in us, and open contempt for themselves. The people of 
Quebec might be a better people, they could not be much kindlier 
or more hospitable. But whatever their virtues, this is to their credit, 
that they have nobly earned the hate of their enemies in sticking to 
their faith. 

JOHN TALBOT SMITH. 



1889.] LOVE'S WORD. 445 



LOVE'S WORD. 

" L'amour n'a qu'un seul mot, et, en le redisant toujours, il ne se re'pe'te jamais." 

Lacordaire. 

(Love utters but one word; and though always saying it over and over, Love never 
repeats itself.) 

WHAT mystic word is this, unnamed, that Love 
Needs only to express its every thought ? 

What he to live must know needs not be told. 

Nor heaven nor earth hears other speech than this ; 

For what Love sayeth not is never said. 

Breathed in th' Eternal Hour that saw the birth 

Of God's own Son, it echoes through the time 

Which men call endless, everlasting days. 

Word ever new, though past all time in age ; 

As sweet and welcome, though said o'er and o'er, 

As tones ne'er whispered to an ear before. 

So this be spoken, let all speech be naught. 

So this be heard, all else may silent be. 

Well known before 'tis past the utt'ring lips, 

'Tis longingly entreated to be said 

Yet once, and once again, though rapture fills 

And overflows the heart each time 'tis heard. 

All thought that mind may think by this one word 
Is manifest, yet ever leaves untold 
Far lovelier things than Love hath ever thought, 
Waiting their eager turn to be caught up 
And, on the point of Its swift-winged dart 
With joyous trembling, haste to pierce the heart, 
Which throbs and leaps to meet Love's messengers, 
With pleasing pain more sweet than painless joy. 

Who knoweth this one word knows all the known : 
Who speaketh it speaks all that can be said : 
Who heareth it hears all that can be heard. 

VOL. XLIX. 29 



446 LOVE'S WORD. [July, 

Though from its chalice of delight be drained 
The last sweet drop, heart-filling as the first, 
The zest of its desire ne'er palls nor tires. 



All truth this word of Love so clear displays, 

No argument against its theme hath force : 

No subtlety so deep it doth not solve. 

On hearing it all chains on flesh or mind 

Fall off, and leave the captive free as air. 

No wound it heals not as with magic balm : 

No life so poor but it makes living worth : 

No death so hard it doth not crown with smiles, 

A living memory without a past, 

It counts upon a future sure as truth, 

Presaging bliss beyond the mind's conceit. 

The present moment, like an altar host, 

Is hallowed by its consecrating breath : 

And to the Hst'ning ear of faith brings back 

Responsive echoes from eternity. 

Word of Love ! whisper thyself to me ! 

1 burn the marv'llous secret to reveal 
Unto all sufFring men ; who will reply : 

" Thy speech betrayeth thee : thou art from heaven, 

And utterest words of heart-compelling power 

As speak those only who have talked with God. 

O joy ! Earth shall a resurrection know. 

Truth reigns ! Hope lives ! We hear the Word of Love !" 



ALFRED YOUNG. 



1889.] BOOKS AXD How 7^0 USE THEM. 447 



BOOKS AND HOW TO USE THEM. 

I. 

I NEED not dwell upon the advantages that are to be derived from 
a familiar acquaintance with books. If you have made a few choice 
authors your bosom friends, with whom you seek refuge in hours of 
anxiety or trouble, who speak to you words of comfort when you are 
weighed down by sorrow or annoyance, who are a solace and a re- 
creation, cheering you up and reminding you of the better and higher 
things of life, no words of mine can help you to hold those tried and 
true friends in greater estimation than that in which you now hold 
them. And if, on the other hand, books were to you no better 
occupation than walking or riding, no greater amusement than base- 
ball or lawn-tennis, then I fear you could not understand any words 
of praise that I might bestow upon them, and the eulogies of great 
men, which I might quote for you, would be to you meaningless 
phrases. Suffice it to say that, after the grace of God flowing to us 
through the channels of prayer and the sacraments of the church, I 
know no greater solace to the soul than the soothing words of a good 
book. Indeed, is not the good book itself a visible grace ? How 
often has not God spoken to men through the words of the printed 
or written page ? Thus did he speak to St. Augustine through the 
random reading of a passage in the New Testament; thus did he 
speak to St. Ignatius through the almost enforced perusal of the 
Lives of fhe Saints; thus has he spoken, and does he still speak, to 
millions the world over through the loving-tender words of that low, 
sweet voice of humanity, The Imitation of Christ. And so I will 
take it for granted that you all prize books, and accordingly will en- 
deavor to read you a leaf out of my experience, and such experience 
of others as occurs to me, as to the best manner of using them, 
with the hope that out of all you read you may be enabled to 
glean a few practical hints. 

We are told that " to the making of books there is no end," 
but there is a limit to every man's reading capacity. We all of us 
must make up our minds that we cannot read everything ; that the 
longest life most rigidly economized can compass but an infinitesimal 
portion of this world's knowledge ; that if, in order to keep our intel- 
lect from starving, we would store up some available provision thereof, 
we must confine ourselves to a selection of subjects, small in numbers 



448 BOOKS AND HOW TO USE THEM. [July, 

and limited in range. In making this selection we should consult 
both our present mental acquirements and our daily occupations. 

It is evident that the class of reading suitable for a scholar of 
trained mental habits is not the class of reading that will interest the 
desultory reader who has picked up his knowledge here and 
there, and has never disciplined his mind down to habits of severe 
thought. The scholar is in position to appreciate the great classics 
of his own or other languages. He can understand why Shakspere 
is so esteemed; he can appreciate the noble grandeur of Milton ; he 
is prepared to be thrilled by the classic prose of an Edmund Burke 
or a Cardinal Newman, because he has learned, in the language of 
Ruskin, " how to form conceptions of proper range or grasp, and 
proper dignity, or worthiness." * To the desultory reader these 
authors are dry and uninteresting; he may praise them because it is 
the fashion to commend them, but he is apt to take more pleasure in 
the last sensational report of his daily paper, or in the last penny 
dreadful that has been issued. Only that which takes momentary 
hold upon his imagination can fix his attention. He may have attain- 
ed the years of manhood, but so far as reading is concerned his mind 
is still the mind of the child who reads his book only till he has found 
out the meaning of the pictures it contains. Well and aptly hath it 
been said : 

" Desultory reading is indeed very mischievous, by fostering habits of loose, 
discontinuous thought, by turning the memory into a common sewer for rubbish 
of all sorts to float through, and by relaxing the power of attention, which of all 
our faculties most needs care, and is most improved by it. But a well-regulated 
course of study will no more weaken the mind than hard exercise will weaken the 
body : nor will a strong understanding be weighed down by its knowledge, any- 
more than an oak is by its leaves, or than Samson was by his locks." f 

Therefore we may broadly say, that according to the various 
stages of one's mental development will one require different grades 
of reading. No general list of books will cover every individual case. 
What is one man's meat may be another man's poison. Let each 
one ask himself, in taking up a book, what special benefit he expects 
to derive from its perusal. 

Say to yourself : " Why do I take up this book? Is it simply 
that I may pass the time, or be amused, or rest my weary, over- 
wrought brain ? ' Be it so. Rest and amusement are legitimate 
objects, even as the theatre and the opera are legitimate. Amuse 
yourself with your book. Is the book abounding in wit or humor? 
All the better. Only see to it that the wit instils no poison, that it 

* The Eagles Nest, lect. i, $ 8. t Guesses at Truth, p. 156. 



1889.] BOOKS AND HOW TO USE THEM. 449 

leaves no sting, that you do not rise from its play of shafts with bitter- 
ness in your thoughts or callousness in your heart See to it that the 
humor be genuine and kindly, and calculated to broaden and deepen 
your sympathies with your fellow-man. See to it that after having 
read the book you can look with greater charity upon human frailty, 
speak more kindly of your neighbor, and hold his shortcomings in 
greater tolerance. Such is the sympathizing humor of Hood ; such 
the innocent charm of the Pickwick Papers ; such the harmless 
laughter created by that most genial of humorists, Artemus Ward, 
who always respected whatever man holds sacred in life, and whom 
God rewarded with the grace of the sacraments of the church on his 
death-bed ; such the happy thoughts of the present editor of Punch, 
Mr. Burnand, who has also been blessed with the grace of conversion 
to the Catholic Faith. In these and such like books you sought 
amusement, and beneath their genial rays you found moral and 
intellectual growth. 

Again, you say to yourself: " Is it instruction and self-improve- 
ment that I am seeking ? Then must I read with greater care. I 
must verify facts ; I must consult the authorities quoted ; I must 
compare the other versions of the same event ; in all my studies I 
must have in view to get at the solid basis of truth underlying the 
statements." Here you have undertaken more serious work. Much 
depends upon the nature of the work, and much upon the manner in 
which you propose to carry it out. If you would succeed, your 
subject must be such as not to lead you beyond your depth. 
Suppose you would study the history of some epoch or some decisive 
event in any of the great civilized nations of Europe. Let me here 
remark that the best way to study the whole history of any people 
is first to master a single epoch to which you can afterwards lead up 
all other epochs and events. Select the epoch and the country for 
which you have most leaning. Procure some outline history of the 
period. This will give you a bird's-eye view of your subject. In 
the course of your reading make out a list of the historical authors 
who have dealt with the period fully and in detail. Prepare also a 
list of the biographies of the great men who figured in the making 
of the epoch ; any good cyclopaedia will supply you with the 
standard works on both topics. Then consult with some informed 
friend as to the comparative merits of these works ; choose those the 
most reliable, and read them with care. Read such of the lighter 
literature of the day as attempts to reconstruct the period you are 
studying. Tabulate for frequent reference names of persons and 
places, dates and events. Afterwards take up the leading literary 
characters that grace the epoch, and go through such of their works 



450 BOOKS AND HOW TO USE THEM. [J ul y ; 

as you may relish, especially such as throw light upon the spirit and 
tone of their time. In Macaulay's celebrated third chapter you have 
an instance of how all kinds of printed matter can be made to give 
forth the spirit that lurks beneath the cold type. * You have now 
become familiar with your epoch, you are at home in it, you need 
no further incentive to study other periods, you are naturally led on 
to the study of men and of events preceding and following. And let 
me add that one such course of study, thoroughly and conscientiously 
made according to your lights and your ability, will be in itself a 
great stride in your education and of far more worth to you than 
any amount of general and desultory reading.! 

But in all your historical readings hold fast by leading dates and 
keep your maps before you. Remember that history without 
chronology and geography is not history ; it is merely a romance of 
the land of Nowhere. The elements of all history are person, place, 
and time, and these three are correlative. A man's actions are not 
altogether determined by his environment, but they receive tone and 
color therefrom. Place him elsewhere, and the outcome of his career 
will be in many respects different. Let him live at another time, 
imbibing the spirit of another age, and he will act in another 
manner. From a practical study and application of this principle 
writers of history acquire what I would call the historical instinct, by 
which they are enabled to determine, when confronted with a 
variety of versions concerning a person or an event, which version is 
most in conformity with the times, the place, and the known 
character of the person discussed. It is this historical instinct that 
enabled Niebuhr, with but the faintest shadow of a clue to guide 
him, to go back of the myth and lay hands on the solid fact, and 
hold it up to us divested of the poetic fancies in which it was 
wrapped, and thus " teach us far more about the Romans than they 
ever knew about themselves." \ It is this historical instinct that leads 
the historian, groping in the dark, to the sentence, the phrase, the 
word that throws a flood of light upon the persons or events he 
would portray. It becomes for him a second sight. But while you 
may not attain this degree of perfection, still by following at a 
distance you may learn how to handle authorities, how to appreciate 
events at their true worth, and how to give facts their real signifi- 
cance. In like manner may you by careful study make any one author 
your own, and hold him as a centre around which to group his 

* History of England, pp. 178-275. 

t I am glad to state that this, in all its details, is the method followed by the Director of the 
Reading Circle of the Cathedral, New York. 
\ Hare : Guesses at Truth, p. 160. 



1889.] BOOKS AND HOW TO USE THEM. 451 

contemporaries, and a criterion by which to judge others working 
on the same lines of thought. 

But there are authors and authors, and I would not have you 
make any author your bosom-friend who were not worthy of your 
confidence. He should be a man with a purpose, a man who speaks 
out because he cannot remain silent, a man*who has a mission to sing 
or say to us noble things that have hitherto remained unsaid, or that 
have been only partly uttered, till he grasps their whole meaning 
and gives them their full-rounded expression. And that expression 
should be for good. This is the good book whereof Milton 
speaketh : " A good book is the precious life-blood of a master- 
spirit, ^embalmed and treasured up on purpose to a life beyond 
life."* The definition is not overstated. Men write their years, 
their life-blood, their very souls into their master-pieces. You 
receive their ideas through the rhythm of well-polished sentences, 
and you see nothing of the patient toil and drudgery that those 
sentences conceal. 

We can lay it down as a general rule that the smoother the polish 
and the more rhythmic the sentence, the more severe has been the 
study back of it all. Name not Shakspere as an exception. With 
the different editions of " Hamlet" both quarto and folio before 
me, each varying in the text, and with Montaigne and Holinshed's 
Chronicle, from each of which he drew largely, I find traces of 
great painstaking in the production of that wonderful master-piece. 
The burning eloquence of Demosthenes that would set Greece 
aflame smelled of the lamp. What is there in all literature more 
polished than the magnificent sixth book of Virgil's ALneid ? One 
would think that he had painted the infernal regions with colors 
drawn exclusively from his own imagination. Not so, however. 
Virgil was only repeating in every detail the traditions of Roman 
mythology and the teachings of those who went before him. There 
are whole lines from his great predecessor, Ennius; there are 
passages that are almost literal translations from some of Plato's 
sublimest sentences. Upon the foundation thus constructed does 
Dante build up that noble cathedral of Catholic song, that sublimest 
poem ever inspired by religion and patriotism the Divina Corn- 
media. It were a long story to detail to you the infinite pains, the 
life-long labor, wrought into that mystic work. Edmund Burke 
revises the proof-sheets of his Reflections on the Revolution in 
France twelve times before he is satisfied with its polish. 
Gibbon strikes the right keynote of his great history only after he 
has written and re-written his first chapter seven times. We are 

* Prose writings : Areopagitica, p. 104. 



45 2 BOOKS A. YD How TO USE THEM. [July, 

told that George Eliot read and consulted no less than one thousand 
volumes while writing Daniel Deronda. And yet who would think 
when reading that bright and laughing letter of the young artist 
from Rome, or tracing the evolution of the character of Gwendoline, 
that the writer had looked beyond the blank sheet on which she 
recorded her impressions ? A few years ago Cardinal Newman 
wrote an essay on Inspiration. He was at once attacked. In this 
manner does the cardinal rebuke his opponent's over-haste : 

" 'Tisapity he did not take more than a short month for reading, pondering, 
writing, and printing. Had he not been in a hurry to publish, he would have 
made a better article. I took above a twelvemonth for mine. Thus I account 
for some of the professor's unnecessary remarks." 

Could anything be more scathing ? I sometimes wonder to what 
extent the professor has taken the lesson to heart. Here is one of 
our most graceful and polished writers, his venerable years 
enshrined in a halo of reverence, taking over a twelvemonth to 
write a short magazine article upon a subject that has occupied his 
life-thoughts. Think of the patient thought and research. And 
when w r e are reading any great master-piece, and we begin to find 
it wearisome, let us not give it up ; rather let us brace ourselves 
anew to the task with the reflection of the years of drudgery the 
master gave to the gathering together of the materials of this great 
work, and then the unlimited patience with which he toiled at those 
materials, transmuting them in his mind till they came forth polished 
and stamped with his personality, and made current coin for all 
time. The effort will endear the book to us all the more, and 
imprint it on our memory all the better. 

Should you ask me how to read, I can only repeat to you rules 
that I have learned elsewhere, many of which you already know. 
Bacon seems to me to have summed up all the rules for reading in 
his own terse style : 

"Read not," he says, "to contradict and confute, nor to believe and take 
for granted, nor to find talk and discourse, but to weigh and consider. Some 
books are to be tasted, others to be swallowed, and some few to be chewed and 
digested : that is, some books are to be read only in parts ; others to be read but 
not curiously;* and some few to be read wholly, and with diligence and 
attention."! 

This says everything. I am only putting into other words the 
counsel of the great sage when I repeat to you : 

T. Read with attention. Attention is the fundamental condi- 

* That is, attentively. t Essays" Of Studies." 



i88g.] 



BOOKS AND HOW TO USE THEM. 



453 



tion of all reading, of all study, of all work properly done. What is 
its nature ? It is a concentration of the mind upon an object of 
thought to the exclusion of all others. It is a habit, and, like all 
habits, to be acquired only by practice. One may live in a state of 
habitual distraction as well as in a state of habitual attentiveness. 
The perfect habit of attention and that which we all of us should 
seek to acquire as best befitting social beings who cannot shirk the 
claims and requirements of social life is the attention that can, 
without strain or effort, break off from one subject, pass on 
to another, and resume at once the thread of one's readings 
or thoughts. How may such an attention be acquired ? Where 
the reading-matter is congenial to the reader there is no diffi- 
culty ; the attention becomes naturally and unconsciously ab- 
sorbed in the subject. But where one is unaccustomed to reading, 
or where the reading-matter has no special interest, it is with 
an effort that one learns to control one's attention. I conceive a 
reader may in the following manner acquire this control : 

(1) Set aside daily, according to leisure or occupation, a given 
portion of time for reading. The daily recurrence to a subject at 
precisely the same hour may at first be irksome, but it soon creates 
a habit which finally becomes a pleasure. 

(2) Keep up the practice of using that time for the one purpose 
and nothing else. This induces the habit all the sooner, and renders 
it all the more profitable. 

(3) Focus the attention during the time of reading in such 
manner that the mind becomes wholly occupied with the reading- 
matter. Better is a daily reading of half an hour made with 
sustained attention than a reading of two hours made in an 
indolent, half-dreamy fashion. 

(4) Read with method. Absence of method in one's reading is 
a source of great distraction. Give yourself the habit while 
reading of making a mental catalogue of your impressions. 
Distinguish between the statements that are doubtful, and probable, 
and certain ; between those that are of opinion, and credence, and 
presumption. You will find this practice of great aid in sustaining 
attention. 

(5) When, in spite of all these precautions, you begin to find 
your thoughts wandering away from the page upon which your 
eyes are set, leaye the book aside for the time being and take up 
the reading of another subject that is more likely to fix your 
attention. We are told that Mr. Gladstone that grand old man 
of such great physical endurance and such wonderful intellectual 
activity is wont to keep three distinct volumes on three distinct 



454 BOOKS AND HOW TO USE THEM.} [July. 

subjects open before him, and when he finds attention beginning to 
flag in the reading of one he immediately turns to another. The 
practice is admirable for the trained intellect. The change brings 
rest to the mind and keeps it from growing wearied. Men who are 
constant brain-workers generally keep before them a favorite vol- 
ume, in which they from time^ to time refresh their minds when they 
become fatigued, or when they find the train of thought they would 
pursue exhausted. I have known men to find mental stimulation in 
the study of a Greek or Sanskrit verb ; others, again, are wont to 
discipline their minds into activity by going over a theorem in 
geometry or calculus. Mere revery or listlessness is a hopeless 
scattering of brain-force. It were well for us all to understand that 
mental inaction is not rest ; it is rust. In this respect the law of 
intellectual is different from that of physical repose. Our soul is 
spirit,, and must needs be active ; and a wholesome, moderate, well- 
directed activity best satisfies the laws of our being. Brain-work 
has never injured anybody. It is excitement, or taking trouble to 
heart, or disregarding the primary hygienic conditions of our 
physical nature that breaks down the health, and we are too prone 
to attribute it to mental exertion.* In the natural course of things 
every great author and great thinker should live to a ripe old age : 
witness the length of days to which have lived, or are still living, 
Kant and Ranke and Dollinger ; Gladstone and Manning and 
Newman ; Brownson and Bancroft and President Woolsey and Dr. 
McCosh. These men have all known what intense brain-work 
means. 

II. Another rule is to take notes while reading. The very fact 
of reading with pen or pencil in hand stimulates thought. Remem- 
ber that reading is useful only in proportion as it aids our intel- 
lectual development; it aids intellectual development only in propor- 
tion as it supplies food for reflection ; and that portion of one's 
reading alone avails which the mind has been enabled to assimilate 
to itself and make its own by meditation. Now, note-taking with 
running comments is a great means of making clear to one's self how 
much one does or does not know about the subject-matter of one's 
reading. Hence its value. But note-taking may be overestimated, 
and it actually becomes so when it is reduced to a mere mechanical 
copying and cataloguing of extracts, without any effort to make 
these extracts the seeds from which to cultivate native thought. 

III. Read with a purpose. Lay out for yourselves a definite 



* Since writing the above I find the same view maintained as regards insanity. Mr. W. 
H. Burnham writes : " Griesinger, the great German alienist, says that purely intellectual 
over-pressure seldom leads to insanity, but among the most frequent causes is over-strain of the 
emotions" (Scribners Magazine, March, 1889, p. 314). 



1889.] BOOKS AND HOW TO USE THEM. 455 

object, and let all your reading converge upon that object until 
your purpose is attained. This is the only reading that will be 
remembered. Books perused in an aimless manner are soon 
forgotten ; indeed, are seldom remembered. The mind becomes a 
mere passive instrument, receiving one set of impressions which are 
in a little while obliterated by another set no less temporary. Now, 
this is an abuse. Reason, imagination, all the faculties of man's 
intellect, were given him that he might exercise them and develop 
them to the full compass of their activity. He who lets them lie 
dormant is in the position of him who buried the one talent that he 
had been entrusted with. Dante very justly places all such, 
though living without blame and without praise, in the first 
circle of hell.* Madam Mohl, that oddest of little women, who 
for so many years ruled over all that was distinguished socially or 
politically in Paris, in her impatience of gossiping women once 
asked : " Why don't they talk about interesting things ? Why don't 
they use their brains ? . . . Everybody but a born idiot has 
brains enough not to be a fool. Why don't they exercise their 
brains as they do their fingers and their legs, sewing and playing 
and dancing ? Why don't they read ? "f Of those who read to no 
purpose might we also ask : Why don't they use their brains ? 
Furthermore, reading with a purpose helps to economize time and 
brain-energy. We soon learn that there are many things we had 
better leave unread, as so many distractions from the main line of 
our readings. Then we begin to find out that after we know all 
that a book has to tell us bearing directly on our subject we would 
be losing time in reading farther, and so we put the book aside. 
With practice we soon discover the short-cuts to our subject, and 
save ourselves the reading of all irrelevant matters. We become 
practised in the rare art of knowing when and what not to read. 

But there are works that cannot be partially read They are all 
works of art whether of prosaic art, as the novel, or poetic art, as 
the epic or lyric or dramatic poem. Such works must be read as a 
complete whole. As well may you mutilate a picture or a statue 
or a musical sonata as skip portions of a great poem or a standard 
novel. Every work of art is one breathing one ideal, speaking 
one thought. You cannot reduce the thought to fragments ; you 
cannot break up the ideal. This is a primary law of criticism, and 
every reader should take it to heart. Critics have compared Milton 
with Dante ; but in what manner ? They have taken one-third 
a mere fragment of Dante's great poem the Inferno and set it 
beside the whole of the Paradise Lost. These critics never under- 

* Inferno, canto iii. 31-51. t Madam Mohl, by Kathleen O'Meara, p. 133. 



456 BOOKS AND HOW TO USE THEM. [July, 

stood Dante. His poem is one. Its parts cannot be separated. 
The Paradiso contains the solution to the Purgatorio and the 
Inferno. It is simply and literally the keystone to the arch. So 
also a work of genuine art is not to be run through post-haste and 
then set aside for ever afterwards. If you would grasp the under- 
lying idea you should read the work slowly, read it thoughtfully, 
read it frequently. A piece of composition so read and so mastered 
is to you a great gain. It is an element in the formation of true 
culture. You are thereby learning how to penetrate the veil of 
appearances and to look essences full in the face. 

You complain of the impossibility of remembering all you read. 
That comes of your reading over-hastily or of your reading aimlessly. 
When you read with a purpose, and take notes, and make running 
comments, and mark passages or chapters which you re-read, your 
memory will be retentive of all essential points.* 

A memory equally strong in all points is rare. I have met only 
one instance approaching such a memory in all my experience. It 
is that of a great churchman who stands foremost as a theologian, a 
canonist, a scholar, and a critic. He is familiar with several of the 
oriental languages ; he speaks or reads nearly all the modern Euro- 
pean tongues ; his memory for facts and names and figures is marvel- 
lous. I have known him to quote chapter and page of authorities in 
published articles without consulting his books ; I have heard him 
recite from Italian poets for hours at a time, and even give the 
variations of different editions that he may not have looked into for 
years. This venerable prelate is the pride and glory of the Catholic 
Church in America. But his is an exceptional instance of wonderful 
memory. For the large majority of us memory is simply confirmed 
experience in regard to topics with which we have grown familiar. 
According as our mind becomes active on any subject will our 
memory grasp the facts and ideas, and even the remote incidents, 
connected with that subject Cardinal Newman says truly : 

"In real fact memory, as a talent, is not one indivisible faculty, but a power 
of retaining and recalling the past in this or that department of our experience, 

* Since writing the above I find the following pertinent and practical remarks from the pen 
of Mr. Thomas Hill : " The books which have helped me most, and which I believe would be 
most valuable to any reader, are those which are very clear and intelligible in their style, but 
which, nevertheless, from their largeness and breadth of view and from their range of thought, 
lying somewhat above the commonplace, demand close attention and patient study in the reader. 
The book is none the worse, but rather the better, if it has comedown to us, with a high reputa- 
tion, for Campbell's period of sixty years, or even /or many times sixty. Read such a book 
through once in order to get a general view of the aim and the method of its author. Read it 
a second time more carefully, in order deliberately to weigh the value of its parts. Read the 
more valuable parts a third time, with meditation and reflection, that you may digest and 
assimilate what nutriment is there. Intellectually man is ruminant, and he gets little per- 
manent benefit from literary browsing unless he thus afterward chews the cud" ("Books that 
have made Me," from the Forum, p. 90). 



.J BOOKS AND HOW TO USE THEM. 457 

not in any whatever. Two memories which are both specially retentive may also 
be incommensurate. . . . There are a hundred memories, as there are a 
hundred virtues." * 

And in this connection I would lay down a rule not given in your 
hand-books of reading. 

IV. Learn the art of forgetting. It is a great blessing and a 
rare art, that of knowing what to forget. It is an art not to be 
applied indiscriminately. There are many things in books even 
in books not professedly bad that are to be ignored, just as there 
are many occurrences in daily life that remain unspoken. It is by 
a strong exercise of will-power that reason learns to overlook, or to 
reject from memory and imagination from imagination, at all events 
a certain objectionable sentence or paragraph in a book, or certain 
scenes and incidents that are neither beautiful, nor edifying, nor 
entertaining, nor instructive. Frequently the nobler passages so fill 
the mind that they leave no room for these accidentally unworthy 
ones. You stand before the Cathedral of Notre Dame de Paris. 
You admire its vast proportions, its wonderful construction, its 
mysterious, overawing impression of prayerfulness. There recurs to 
your mind the magnificent chapter of Victor Hugo's novel, translat- 
ing its manifold beauties into words only little less expressive than 
its carved stones. Before its grandeur the vision of physical 
grotesqueness and moral monstrosity the great word-artist would 
associate with it drops out and fades away, with as much ease as the 
remembrance of the toads and slimy things that find sustenance in 
the moisture dripping at the base of its walls. You enter, and the 
sublimity of the structure is forgotten in a view sublimer still. It 
is that of a sea of upturned faces filling this vast structure, many 
of whom you recognize as leaders in the social, literary, and political 
world, hanging spell-bound on the utterances of a white-robed 
Dominican,! as from yonder historic pulpit he announces to them in 
irresistible eloquence the great truths of Christian doctrine. You 
leave, the echo of his thrilling words ringing in your ears. The 
impression remains, never to be effaced. Beneath the magic touch 
of such impressions the soul expands. Whatever is good and holy 
and pure and noble, in word or work, is the legitimate object of 
man's intellectual energies. This is the secret of the elevating 
influence of all true art. The outcome of Victor Hugo's influence 
is that he created a school of writers who wallow in filth, admire 
ugliness, love depravity, and sympathize with horrors. And their 

* Grammar of Assent, sixth London edition, pp. 340, 341. 

t I had the great pleasure of hearing Pere Monsabre' in several of his Lenten sermons, in 
1887, under the circumstances here described. 



458 BOOKS AND HOW TO USE THEM. [July, 

readers ? Their intelligence has become deflected from its aspirations 
after the true ideal the ideal that lives to a standard ever descend- 
ing and to the cultivation of a taste that revels in the realism of 
Zola, whose beastliness had become so revolting that his own 
disciples and admirers, in self-respect, were compelled to enter 
public protest against one of his latest books. 

This art of forgetting is not as difficult as you would suppose. 
Boys of good sense who are indiscriminate readers and great devour- 
ers of books practise it unconsciously. But as reason develops 
it takes a strong act of the will to render the brain impervious 
to certain classes of impressions. Hypnotism has proven how 
an external agent is capable of lulling certain nerve-centres of 
volition into torpor, and of causing the mind to become concen- 
trated upon a single idea to the exclusion of all others, no 
matter how forcibly they may be pressed upon the attention, 
and to look at it in the manner the agent desires. Now, that 
which an external agent can so effectively do the will, in its own 
way, can be taught to achieve. The mind's eye may be render- 
ed blind to all else than the subject-matter it is surveying. Biography 
is filled with the blunders committed by great thinkers such as 
St. Thomas Aquinas and Newton when in this state of total 
absorption with some predominant thought. Consider the great will- 
power Mr. Froude brought to bear upon the distortion of history. 
Note the facility with which he ignores the virtues of Mary Stuart ; 
see the perfections he finds in Queen Elizabeth ; and there is that 
" great blot of blood and grease on the history of England,"* Henry 
VIII. ; Mr. Froude can't perceive it; it is to his mind an unsullied 
page, and Henry VIII. a profound statesman. In like spirit can Mr. 
Froude read a quotation until it begins to tell against his precon- 
ceived notion, drop out words that damage the view he would hold, 
garble sentences to suit his purposes, and play such pranks with 
quotation-marks as to make him the laughing-stock of all conscien- 
tious historians. That which Froude can achieve so well, simply that 
he may present an historical epoch in a novel light, we should be able 
to accomplish in another direction with the higher aim of keeping 
out of our soul intellectual and moral poison. This leads us to 
another rule. 

V. Be honest in your readings. Cultivate honesty of judg- 
ment, honesty of opinion, honesty of expression, so that you may be 
able to form an honest estimate of books. A book is commended 
as a classic, and you are unable to perceive its worth. This inability 
may arise from two causes: either you are not adequately educated 

* Dickens : Chi Li's History of England. 



1889.] BOOKS AND HOW TO USE THEM. 459 

up to the point of being able to appreciate such a book, or you have 
grown beyond the need or use of the book. If the book is beyond 
your grasp, do not attempt to read it ; put it aside, and in the mean- 
time read up other matter in which you will find greater pleasure. 
But do not lose sight of the book. After a year or two try it again, 
and if you have been reading to some purpose your intellect will 
have expanded to the comprehension of the book that had been 
formerly beyond your reach. We all of us will find profit in educat- 
ing ourselves up to a full appreciation of the great world-authors. 

Then there are books that one outgrows. Every mind, acting in 
its normal state, passes through a process of development. What 
delights the child may be insipid to the man. The books of our 
youth are always pleasant memories to us, but we have no desire to 
spend our manhood hours upon them. Other books and other 
subjects, more befitting our riper years, absorb our attention. So it 
is with the different stages of a people's existence. Every age has 
its own peculiar wants and its own standards of excellence. Thus it 
not infrequently happens that books which were a revelation to our 
fathers have become mere commonplaces to us. This may arise from 
the fact that the thought which was novel when first presented to the 
previous generation has filtered through the various strata of society 
till it has become common property; we become familiar with it ; it 
no longer excites enthusiasm as it did upon its first appearance. The 
book has done its work. Our age has another set of wants calling for 
another set of thoughts, and we prize more highly the book supplying 
food for our own aspirations. Such I take to be the position of 
Ruskin. He was the prophet of beauty of design in furniture and 
architecture. He taught his generation how to weave beauty about 
the home whether it be a cottage or a palace and the things in 
every-day use. He showed them how health and cheerfulness might 
be promoted by drawing the curtain aside in the dim or darkened 
room and letting in a ray of sunshine. He called attention to the 
beauty of the passing cloud, and the blue sky, and the green fields, 
and the way-side flower. He awakened in them the almost dormant 
sense of beauty. And his lesson has been well learned. The 
present generation knows the value of observation, and is trained to 
take in at a glance whatever it perceives to be striking or beautiful. 
His books, so cleverly written, so intensely earnest, were a revelation 
to his day and generation, but they no longer evoke the enthusiasm 
that greeted their first appearance. Not that we cannot still find 
much to learn from Ruskin. He has nurtured his own mind upon 
high thought, and he would have all other minds equally nurtured. 



460 BOOKS AND HOW TO USE THEM. [J ul 7r 

He holds up noble ideals of life. He would see men and women 
harboring elevating thoughts, pure of heart, honest in their convic- 
tions, unselfish in their pursuits, each extending a helping hand, each 
living for the highest and best. And these are lessons for all ages. 
He hates shams with the soul of Carlyle ; he scorns the worship of 
getting-on to the exclusion of the free exercise of the higher faculties 
with the soul of Epictetus ; he loves the Gothic past, and he finds 
little in our modern world to love outside of Turner's pictures and 
Walter Scott's novels. All else in modern life is censurable. He 
quarrels with our railroads, and our smoking manufactories, and our 
modern methods of money-getting. Pages of his books are as 
charming as ever grew under the driving pen, but his digressions are 
more than his subjects. He lacks ballast. There is in him too much 
of what he himself has graphically described as "the wild writhing, 
and wrestling, and longing for the moon, and tilting at windmills, 
and agony of eyes, and torturing of fingers, and general spinning out 
of one's soul into fiddlestrings." * So it is with Carlyle. He insis- 
tently taught the lesson that the world is moving, that time and tide 
wait for no man, that what has been done cannot be undone, 
that the great secret of living is to be up and doing doing 
something doing well whatever one puts hand to. This lesson 
the world has learned as thoroughly as the world cares to learn ; 
and that other one in Carlyle's great prose poem, The French 
Revolution, that neither class nor creed is privileged against the 
pursuit of a Nemesis for deeds ill-done, goods ill-got, and re- 
sponsibilities ill-discharged. And so Carlyle may step down and 
out. Our age is hard-pressed with other questions seeking a solu- 
tion. We also have our prophets, if we would only recognize them; 
and if we do not make the mistake of stoning them we may 
profitably listen to their lessons. 

VI. Be honest in your researches. Read both sides of every 
human question under proper guidance. Individual judgments are 
misleading, and it is only by comparison of various opinions that you 
can get at the real state of the case. It is the duty of the historian 
to go back of a statement to the author first making the statement, 
and inquire into the spirit by which he is animated. But this duty 
the historian does not always discharge. And yet what is of more 
importance than to know if it is a friend or an enemy of the person 
or the people who is relating the story ? Under no circumstances is 
the censure of an enemy to be accepted unchallenged and unsifted. 
Don't be afraid of the truth. It may tell against your favorite author, 
or favorite principle, or favorite hobby. But facts are of more worth 

* The Queen of the Air, p. 170. 



1889.] BOOKS AND HOW TO USE THEM. 461 

than misplaced admiration or misconceived theory. Let in the light 
What we want is the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. 
Keep clear of whitewashing books. Whitewash is not lasting; it 
scales off and reveals the deformities beneath. It were better from 
the beginning that we know men as they lived, events as they 
happened, opinions as they were held. We Catholics fear no truth, 
have no apology to make for any truth, have no hesitancy in accept- 
ing all proven truth. When you find a history, whether of church 
or state, with its chief characters stalking over the page possessing^ 
neither spot nor blemish of character, making no blunder in conduct 
or policy, perfect in all things, you may set that history down as 
untrustworthy, misleading, and misrepresenting. 

So also, in a study of the clashings of the various schools and 
systems of philosophy, may you find some scintillations suggestive 
of trains of useful thought. But there is one subject which I would urge 
upon you with all the earnestness of my soul to hold in reverence. It is 
the most precious inheritance that you possess. It is more to you 
than heaps of gold and broad acres ; more than knowledge and power; 
more than fame and human greatness ; more than life itself. It is the 
heritage of your Catholic Faith, that has been nurtured in the blood of 
your forefathers and handed down to you as a most sacred trust 
It is too holy a thing to be trifled with. Put far away from you 
books calculated to undermine the groundwork of that precious 
heritage. Cherish it within your heart of hearts ; guard it there with 
jealous care. Do I so exhort you because I think your faith cannot 
bear the light ? Far from me be such a thought. It were but ill in 
keeping with the solemn words of the Father of the faithful. He 
says: "Nor must we pass by in silence, or reckon of little account, 
that fuller knowledge of our belief, and, as far as may be, that clearer 
understanding of the mysteries of the faith, which Augustine and 
other Fathers praised and labored to attain, and which the Vatican 
Synod itself decreed to be very fruitful." * During eighteen hundred 
years and more sophistry in every guise has been attacking that 
faith, and it shines to-day with greater splendor than ever. There 
are popular books disseminating plausible objections that might vex 
and annoy you because you could not answer them satisfactorily. A 
sneer can sap the foundations of a great religious truth in the unwary 
mind. Any scoffer can raise objections that only a life-study could 
answer. It is the absence of such learning that the Psalmist finds 
good : " Because I have not known learning, I will enter into the 

powers of the Lord."f We do not hold our faith merel 7 u P on the 
evidence of reason, or as a matter of private opinion. It deals with 

* Leo XIII. , Encyclical JEXcrni Patris . \ Psalm lxx - *7- 

VOL. XLIX. 30 



462 BOOKS AND HOW TO USE THEM. [July, 

truths and mysteries beyond the grasp of human reason. We hold it 
solely and simply on the authority of God speaking to us through 
his church. We hold it because God gives us the grace so to hold it. 
It matters little to us whether certain parts of the book of Daniel 
have been written by Daniel, or by Esdras, or by any other scribe or 
prophet* Our faith is not grounded upon this or that passage of 
Scripture. It is based upon the infallible authority of God's church, 
which is the pillar and ground of truth, and the depositary of revela- 
tion, and which alone has the key to what is or is not of inspiration in 
the Sacred Books. This is our stay-by. A recent novel has depicted 
the sad instance of an Anglican clergyman tortured by doubt, and 
his faith crumbling away at the touch of a sceptical hand. It is the 
story of hundreds at the present moment. And it is so because they 
hold the most sacred truths of Christianity not with the certitude of 
faith, but with the probability of private opinion. f The light of 
faith penetrates far beyond the light of reason ; having lost the grace 
of faith they can no longer retain hold upon the truths of faith. 

VII. Seek to master the book you read. To every book there 
is a positive and a negative side. In order to get at the positive side 
place yourself in sympathy with the author. Read the book from 
that point of view from which he wrote it. Divest yourself, for the 
time being, of your own hobbies and your own standard of criticism. 
You thus stand out of your own light. Afterwards look to the 
negative side of the book. Note how far the author has gone over 
the ground of his subject-matter and wherein he falls short in his 
treatment. There are times when what an author does not say is as 
expressive as that which he says. His omissions are an important 
clue to his frame of mind. They reveal his likes and dislikes, his 
aptitude, his tastes and tendencies. Sometimes they reveal how far 
he falls short in grasping the full bearing of his subject ; sometimes 
they point to his prudence in steering clear of mooted questions 
barren in result ; sometimes they prove him an artist of consummate 
skill, who knows what not to say as well as what to say. Then, 
again, the omission may be designed suppression. An example 
will best illustrate the point I would make. Take the first and last 
master-pieces of George Eliot. Adam Bede breaks upon the reader 
with all the freshness and truth of nature. Every element influ- 
encing character is expressed in the workings of the very souls of the 
rural, half-educated folk acting out their lives according to their 
conscience, their early training, and their personal character. Their 

* See, for instance, Abbe* Vigouroux, Cosmogonie Mosatque. Susanne : Caractere ve'ridi- 
que de son Histoire, pp. 345-349. 

t See Cardinal Newman's Grammar of Assent, chap. vii. 2, 5. 



1889.] BOOKS AND HOW TO USE %H 'EM. 463 

beliefs are there, and their lives are colored by their beliefs. 
Daniel Deronda deals with human nature on lines diametrically 
opposite. All its men and women, except the fanatical Mordechai 
and the priggish Deronda, live and move without religious beliefs 
and religious comforts, the creatures of environment, acting not as 
they would but as they must. The ordinary reader throws the light 
of his own religious belief upon the characters as they pass before 
him, and takes it for granted that the author assumes throughout 
religious feeling and religious motive. But he is reckoning 'without 
the author. George Eliot cast off the shreds of Christianity that 
had hung about her when she first began to write, and in her later 
works suppressed all Christian influence as false and pernicious, sub- 
stituting in the stead necessity and environment Here is the 
fountain whence flows the poison permeating this gifted writer's 
later works. It is by taking into account these various aspects of 
authors and books that one learns to master the book one reads. 

VIII. In your readings give one another mutual support and 
encouragement. Therefore read aloud in the family circle. After 
you have read a chapter discuss freely the author, the style, the 
characters, the statements. This is a good old custom that was in 
greater vogue a hundred years ago, when books were scarce and 
education was not so generally diffused. You all remember how 
charmingly Goldsmith, in that most charming of classics, The Vicar 
of Wakefield a work that contributed so largely towards the 
awakening of the genius of Goethe describes the practice at tea- 
time in the family-circle of Dr. Primrose.* Little did Goldsmith 
think that he was therein painting a relic of Catholic England which 
had passed into a family custom out of the convents and colleges 
and monasteries of mediaeval days. The custom is improving in 
many directions, and worthy of being preserved. Another praise- 
worthy custom is that of organizing reading-circles among your 
friends. Let some competent person cut out your work for you ; 
prepare your portion well, and when the circle meets enter with all 
earnestness into the discussion of your subject-matter. You will find 
this a source of great improvement. 

IX. Lastly, remember that that is the best reading which tends 
to growth of character as well as to intellectual development. Every 
good book dealing with human life in its broader phases has that 
effect. But we Catholics read a certain class of books that are 

"prepared especially for the culture of our spiritual sense. They 
remind us of our last end ; they probe our 1 consciences and lay open 
before us our failings and frailties and shortcomings; they reveal to 

* Chapter v. 



464 A FAMOUS, IRISH SCHOOL AND ITS FOUNDER. [July, 

us the goodness and mercy and sanctity of God, the life and passion 
and merits of our Redeemer, the beauty and holiness of the Church ; 
they teach us how to prepare for the profitable reception of the 
sacraments ; they place before us for our model and imitation the 
ideal Christian life. They rebuke our sins, they soothe our anxieties,, 
they strengthen our resolves. With such friends we should become 
very intimate. And if I may be permitted to give advice upon a 
subject that belongs more especially to your spiritual director, I 
would say to you : Whatever you read by way of spiritual reading, 
be it little or much, read it slowly and reflectively. You are not 
under obligation, as in pursuing a course of study, to rush through a 
certain amount. Any passage that comes home to you, or stirs 
your feelings, or moves your will, dwell upon it until you shall have 
absorbed all its sweetness. Cultivate not many, but a few, very few, 
spiritual books which you make it a point to read and read again 
year after year.* 

BROTHER AZARIAS. 



A FAMOUS IRISH SCHOOL AND ITS FOUNDER. 

ON the eastern shore of Arranmore, in a picturesque valley,, 
sheltered on one side by a range of dark hills and washed on the 
other by an inlet of Galway Bay, is the primitive little fishing village 
of Killany. The place commands a view of a magnificent sheet of 
water, diversified by islands, capes, and headlands, and outlined in 
the distance by the Twelve Pins of Benbola, which stand like a clus- 
ter of pyramids in bold relief against the sky. Beyond this, however, 
a more melancholy locality could scarcely be imagined. It seems 
the very home of desolation. The only sound that breaks the 
monotony of the scene is the querulous whistling of some solitary 
curlew wending his flight from shore to shore, or the plaintive 
murmuring of the ocean, dashing itself fretfully against the huge 
cliffs which loom in the distance. And yet this desolate hamlet was 
for many centuries a renowned centre of monastic life and intel- 
lectual activity. 

Let us go back to the year of our Lord 480, and stand 
beneath the round tower, which, as we are informed, even then 



kept guard, like some t tutelary giant, over the destinies of this 

* The indispensable books in every Catholic collection are: i, The New Testament; 2, 
The Imitation of Christ ; 3, Spiritual Combat ; 4, A Devout Life, by St. Francis de Sales; 5,, 
Growth in Holiness, by Father Faber. 



1889.] A FAMOUS IRISH SCHOOL AND ITS FOUNDER. 465 

lonely valley. A group of buildings of various forms and dimensions 
lies beneath our gaze. Around an oblong edifice, which is evidently 
a church, are clustered several other structures varying in size from 
the narrow cell, intended for a single occupant, to the public hall, 
destined for the accommodation of the whole community. Encircling 
the entire collection is a wall of solid masonry whose sameness is only 
broken by a single gateway, surmounted by a carved cross. Prompt- 
ed by curiosity, we descend from our point of observation and ask for 
admittance. The door is opened by a white-robed janitor, who greets 
us with a cordial benedicite. On entering we find ourselves in a new 
world. It is a veritable bee-hive of industry and activity. Tran- 
scribers, illuminators, carvers, workers in silver and iron, mechanics 
of various kinds, are all deeply absorbed in their occupations. Here 
a group, in tunics and cucullas, are engaged in discussing some of 
the great scholastic problems which have been endless sources of 
dissension in the past as they are in the present. There a tonsured 
priest lectures to an attentive class, the dress and faces of many of 
his auditors denoting their foreign origin. As we pass along, the 
sounds of psalmody, now soft as the evening breeze, now loud as the 
murmuring of the ocean, break upon our ears. Have we visited a 
land of enchantment ? Have we witnessed a fairy scene ? We have 
travelled back over the centuries, and conjured up before our 
imagination what was once a reality. We have seen one of the great 
Celtic universities of the golden era of Irish history. We have 
visited the school of "Arran of the Saints." 

Saint Honoratus, the great monastic patriarch of Southern 
Europe, went to his reward (428) a little over half a century before 
St. Enda arrived in Arran (480). When tracing the walls of his 
hermitage at Lerins, so like, in many respects, its sister island in the 
Atlantic, the former never dreamt of the vast edifice which, in the 
designs of Divine Providence, was to spring up from this humble 
beginning. Neither could the latter, even in his most sanguine 
moments, have foreseen the luxuriant harvest that was destined to 
issue from the little seed he had prayerfully planted on the bleak 
hillsides of Arran. 

The early days of the school of Arran were not, however, without 
those trials and difficulties which make beginnings proverbially weak, 
and which have been ever the lot of the saints. The old lives of 
Saint Enda for several have been written as well as the traditions 
still existing in Arran are filled with legendary anecdotes which 
detail with great minuteness the encounters of the holy abbot with 
a certain pagan chieftain named Corban, who at that time held pos- 
session of the island. Extravagant and improbable as many of these 



466 A FAMOUS IRISH SCHOOL AND ITS FOUNDER. [July,. 

narratives undoubtedly are, they should not be altogether rejected. 
Various circumstances, such as the names of places, the traditions 
still extant, and local associations, all seem to indicate that these 
legends are but the echoes of authentic miracles which have become 
obscured by the lapse of centuries. 

It was near the alleged scene of one of these legends that St. Enda 
first celebrated Mass on the island. This spot now known as Kil- 
lany he selected as the site of his monastery. In due time a little 
damliagk, or stone church ; the prointeach, or refectory ; the aregall, 
or kitchen ; the abbot's house, and a cluster of cone-roofed cells were 
erected. Towards the maintenance of this establishment one-half of 
the island was set apart. The remaining portion was divided into 
ten equal parts, on each of which was erected a monastery governed 
by its proper superior. St. Enda ruled over all. Under him was 
elected a second in rank, who had the right of succeeding the abbot 
after his death. The first of these coadjutor abbots is said to have 
been St. Benedict, brother of the famous Kieran of Saige, patron of 
the diocese of Ossory, who himself is said to have been one of the 
many great men who came to St. Enda to learn wisdom and holi- 
ness. 

The other traces of the internal government of the Arran com- 
munity which have been handed down to us are of but little import- 
ance. Enda ordained that those among the monks who happened 
to be bishops should have a separate place of burial. All others 
were to be interred in the common place of sepulture. This regula- 
tion seems to have given umbrage to a portion of the community. 
Eight of the old monks who had accompanied St. Enda to Arraa 
expressed their dissatisfaction. They further found fault with what 
they deemed the unequal partition of Arran made by St. Enda. To 
put an end to any doubts which might exist as to his right of 
governing, the abbot ordered a triduum of fasting and prayer. When 
this was twice repeated, an angel, we are told, appeared and pre- 
sented Saint Enda with a chasuble and a Book of the Four 
Gospels gifts which were understood by all to signify that to him 
was entrusted the two-fold duty of teaching and governing. 

These meagre details throw but little or no light on a question 
which, in recent years, has given rise to much discussion among 
archaeologists. What was the rule followed by St. Enda and the 
monasteries of the early Irish church ? To what system of monastic 
legislation is due the credit of having conferred so many benefits on 
civilization, and of having given so many citizens to heaven? 
The well-known antiquarian, Sir James Ware, who, like Ussher and 
Todd, devoted his energies to the fruitless task of endeavoring to< 



1889.] A FAMOUS IRISH SCHOOL AND ITS FOUNDER. 467 

identify modern Protestantism with the teachings and practices of the 
early Irish church, assures us that the community founded by St. 
Enda was a branch of the Canons Regular of St. Augustine. It is 
now, however, almost universally admitted by the best Irish scholars 
that this institute was unknown in Ireland until introduced for the 
first time by St. Malachy in the twelfth century. The rule exclu- 
sively followed by the monks of the early Irish church was that 
brought into the country by St. Patrick. This code was only a 
modification of the monastic system brought originally into Western 
Europe by St. Athanasius when exiled to Treves by Constantine the 
Great, in the year 336. It was a rivulet from the great stream which 
had its origin among the sands of the Thebaid and spread its fertiliz- 
ing waters towards the regions of the north. Whatever doubt may 
exist as to the particular form of the monastic code adopted by the 
Abbot of Arran for the government of his young community, we are 
certain from the glimpses afforded us that it was based on the great 
fundamental principles of prayer, labor, obedience, and mortification 
of the senses. Fasting and abstinence of the most rigorous kind 
were strictly enjoined upon all. Meat was never used. All kinds of 
spirituous liquors were absolutely unknown. Bread, meal moistened 
with water, fish, herbs, and pulse were the only articles of food con- 
sumed by the members of the community. The exactness with 
which the rule of fasting was enforced is illustrated by an anecdote 
which we find related in Colgan's Life of St. Enda. To test the 
fidelity of his monks Enda is said to have subjected them every 
evening to the following curious ordeal. On the waters of Killany 
Bay was placed a curroch, or canoe, destitute of the usual covering of 
skins. Every monk was obliged to go into this curroch. If the 
water entered and nothing but a miracle could have prevented it 
it was judged as a sign that the occupant had in some manner 
violated the rule. On a certain occasion all the monks except the 
cook had gone safely through the trial. Poor Gigias for that was 
his name no sooner entered than the boat sank, and he escaped 
only with a severe wetting. 

"What hast thou done, O Gigias?" asked the abbot. 

Gigias confessed that, overcome by hunger, he had taken some 
of Kieran's dinner and added it to his own. 

"There is no room for a thief here," was the reply. So Gigias 

was obliged to go. 

The monastery of Arran was a veritable bee-hive of industry. 
Labor was imposed on all as a kind of penitential duty. Those 
skilled in agriculture were appointed to the unremunerative task of 
endeavoring to snatch a scanty crop from the inhospitable soil; 



468 A FAMOUS IRISH SCHOOL AND ITS FOUNDER. [July, 

some ground the corn, while others launched forth in their skin- 
covered barks to reap the harvests of the , deep. Copyists, com- 
posers, illuminators, and workers in vellum were employed in the 
scriptorium; lecturers and catechists gave instructions in the schools. 
In the meantime the prayers of the community were unceasing. 
The monks succeeded each other in the choir. They stood around 
the altar and chanted aloud the praises of God in the words of the 
royal Prophet. 

The soul and centre of this angelical world was St. Enda. He 
was a model of all virtues, but above all shone his admirable sweet- 
ness of disposition and his self-denial. In selecting Arran as the 
place of his abode he was actuated by no other motives than a 
desire to hide himself from the eyes of the world, and sanctify his 
own soul and the souls of his brethren. By a wise dispensation of 
Providence, however, history has torn away the veil behind which 
he sought to conceal himself, and the former chieftain stands 
revealed to us in all the greatness of his soul and in all the 
beauty of his sanctity. Saint Cummian of Conor, who was born 
half a century (589) after the death (540) of St. Enda, and who is so 
well known for his famous letter on the Easter controversy, has left 
us a poem in which he pictures the holy Abbot of Arran living in a 
cell of flinty stone and practising austerities of such rigor as to 
seem almost incredible. Near the church of St. Benan, overlooking 
the village of Killany, is still pointed out a rude building called the 
bed of St. Enda. In the words of Froude, who gives the result of a 
visit to Arran in his Short Studies, " it is such a place as sheep 
would huddle under in a storm, and shiver in the cold and wet 
which would pierce through the chinks of the walls." " Enda," 
says St. Cummian, " loved victory (over self) with sweetness, he 
loved a prison of hard stone to bring the people to God." This 
victory over self had only been obtained after a severe struggle. 
Enda was by nature passionate and impulsive. An anecdote 
illustrative of his fiery disposition is found in his life. Immediately 
after assuming the monastic garb he was on a certain occasion 
engaged in conversation with his sister Fanchea, who loved him 
most tenderly and who exercised a powerful influence on his 
life. Their conference was rudely broken by warlike shouts. A 
neighboring clan, the hereditary foes of the family of Enda, had 
invaded an adjacent territory and were returning home with their 
booty, when they were intercepted and attacked by the warriors of 
Oriel. A bloody battle ensued. Forgetful of his new vocation and 
filled with the old warlike ardor, Enda seized a weapon and was 
about placing himself at the head of his clansmen, when his sister 



1889.] A FAMOUS IRISH SCHOOL AND ITS FOUNDER. 469 

interposed and exclaimed : " Enda, my brother, place your hand on 
your head and remember thou hast taken the crown of Christ." 
The rebuke was effectual. Enda relinquished his battle-axe and re- 
turned to hie prayers. 

During the interval which had elapsed between this event and 
his arrival in Arran so thoroughly had he overcome his natural dis- 
position that, like St. Francis of Sales, sweetness and gentleness 
became his most prominent virtues. In the long range of monastic 
biography no more charming picture has been presented to us than 
the paternal kindness with which the holy Abbot of Arran treated 
the monks under his care. He was a father to all. He shared the 
sorrows of his brethren, dispelled their doubts, and when despondent 
he inspired them with a share of the invincible courage which 
glowed in his own great soul. Among the many anecdotes related 
in his life is one in which we are told that the monks of Arran, who 
from the circumstances of their abode became skilful and adventur- 
ous navigators, complained that owing to a huge rock which blocked 
up the entrance to the harbor they were often in danger of ship- 
wreck. The abbot went to the spot, made the sign of the cross on 
the boulder with his abbatial staff, and prayed that God might do 
the rest. That night an angel bearing a flaming sword was seen 
descending from heaven, and, striking the rock like a flash of light- 
ning, it crumbled into atoms. 

The fame of the austerities practised by these athletes of peni- 
tence spread like an odor of sanctity over all Western Europe. 
The tide of empire had moved westward, and the wonders of the 
Thebai'd were revived in the Atlantic Ocean. The trackless deep 
became a highway, and the barren hillsides and gloomy valleys of 
this desolate island swarmed with human beings. There Saxon and 
Celt forgot their ancient race hatreds; the Iberian and the Gaul, the 
Frank and the Teuton might be heard conversing in the common 
language of all the Latin of old Rome. 

Space will allow us only to cast a glance, in passing, at a few 
among the crowd who composed that holy company. Foremost 
among them we find Columkille, the Dove of the Cells, whose 
hermitage, clothed in a mantle of sweet-brier and wild roses, is still 
pointed out in a lonely spot by the sea-shore. On his departure from 
Arran he composed a poem, which has been handed down to 
posterity, and which is one of the most exquisite relics of ancient 
Irish literature we possess. Aubrey de Vere one of Ireland's 
truest poets in his English version has transmitted the touching 
pathos and tenderness of the original with so much fidelity that we 
are tempted to quote the following stanzas: 



47 A FAMOUS IRISH SCHOOL AND ITS FOUNDER. [July, 

" Farewell to Aran Isle, farewell ! 

I steer for Hy ; my heart is sore : 

The breakers burst, the billows swell 

^ ' 

'Twixt Aran Isle and Alba's shore. 



" O Aran, sun of all the West ! 

My heart is thine ! As sweet to close 
Our dying eyes in thee as rest 

Where Peter and where Paul repose. 

" O Aran, sun of all the West ! 

My heart in thee its grave hath found ; 
He walks in regions of the blest 

The man that hears thy church bell sound." 

Next come the founders of the great schools of Moville and 
Clonard the two Finnians. Saint Finnian of Clonard was a man of 
such vast learning that, after his return from Arran, he became a 
kind of consulting theologian for all Ireland. His namesake of Mo- 
ville was even still more famous. Filled with love and veneration 
for the Apostolic See, he set out from Arran on a pilgrimage to 
Rome, and after a long sojourn in the Holy City he returned to Ire- 
land laden with gifts from the reigning pope. He afterwards made 
several other journeys to Rome, and brought back a vast store of 
relics, the penitential canons, known as the Canons of St. Finnian, 
and a copy of St. Jerome's translation of the Holy Scriptures, until 
then unknown in Ireland. He founded the monastery of Moville 
in the year 540 and afterwards returned to Italy, where he was 
elected Bishop of Lucca, in Tuscany, and is to this day venerated 

in that country under the name of Fridian or Frigidian. He died in 
589. 

The great Saint Kieran of Clonmacnois, whom Alcuin calls the 
glory of the Irish race, was also a pupil of the school of Arran. 
Having come to the island in his youth, and being endowed with a 
vigorous constitution, he was appointed to the task of grinding all 
the corn of the community. For seven years he discharged this 
duty. Visions of his future greatness broke in upon his humble 
labors. He dreamt, at one time, that he saw a great tree laden with 
leaves and fruit growing on the banks of the Shannon. It spread 
out its branches far and near until it covered with its shade the 
whole of Erin. He related the vision to his abbot, who interpreted it 
as follows: "The tree," he said, "thou art thyself, for thou shalt be 
great before God and men, and shalt bring forth sweetest fruits of 
good works. Proceed, then, at once, and, in obedience to the will of 
God, build thou there a monastery." 



1889.] A FAMOUS IRISH SCHOOL AND ITS FOUNDER. 471 

Saint Kieran prepared himself for the work allotted to him. 
Having been ordained priest, and having said his first Mass at Kil- 
lany, he took an affectionate farewell of his brethren. The parting 
was most affecting. Walking between Saint Enda and Saint Finnian 
of Moville, and escorted by the entire community, he proceeded to 
the place of embarkation. No words were spoken, but tears flowed 
in abundance. Long and wistfully did the monks gaze after the 
bark which bore their beloved brother away from their island home. 
When returning to his cell, Saint Enda, sobbing with grief, said : 
" O my brethren ! good reason have we to weep, for this day has our 
island lost the flower and strength of religious observance." St. 
Kieran died at Clonmacnois in the year 549, having governed the 
monastery only a short time. 

Among the many others who were trained to holiness in this 
great nursery of saints were Saint Kevin of Glendalough, whom the 
poet Moore has touched with his poetic wand; St. Jarlath, patron 
and founder of the See of Tuam ; St. Carthage of Lismore : Saint 
Benignus of Armagh ; Saint Colman MacDuagh and St. Mac- 
Creiche, both natives of Clare; St. Loran Kerr; St. Caradoc; St. 
Kybi ; Saint Papeus, and Saint Brecan, son of Euchu Ball-dearg, 
prince of the proud Dalcassian race. 

It was a gathering at once democratic and cosmopolitan. Prince 
and peasant, plebeian and patrician worked and prayed side by side. 
Children of races as divergent as the poles, but united by the cath- 
olicity of a common faith, lived together in harmony. 

Among the many objects of interest to be seen in this wonderful 
island is a sculptured cross bearing the inscription "VII Romani," or 
the Seven Romans. We ask in vain who they were. This solitary 
monument cast on the shore of time, a relic of the shipwreck of 
ages is the only evidence of their existence we possess. And yet 
we know that these strangers were only a few among the countless 
numbers who came from afar to drink copious draughts of wisdom 
and holiness from the fountains which flowed in perennial streams in 
Arran of the Saints. 

In this, as well as in the other great centres of monastic life 
throughout Ireland, there was an intellectual development unknown 
among the monks of the Egyptian desert. The prodigies of pen- 
ance practised by the eremites of the Thebaid found a parallel in Ar- 
ran, but to these were added the charm that mental culture always 
gives the actions of mankind. The study of the Holy Scriptures 
and the writings of the fathers of the church were the great founda- 
tion stones on which the Irish scholastic system was erected. In 
Ireland itself but few relics of her ancient literature, with the excep- 



47 2 A FAMOUS IRISH SCHOOL AND ITS FOUNDER. [July, 

tion of legendary narratives, have escaped the vandalism of Dane 
.and Saxon. The libraries of Europe, however, possess ample 
evidences of the literary eminence to which national feeling lays 
claim. These records consist chiefly of books of the Gospels, the 
New and the Old Testament, with glosses on the margin, and 
distinct commentaries, such as that of St. Columbanus, which bear 
ample testimony to the depth and fulness of knowledge possessed 
by the authors. Augustin Magraidin, in his life of Saint Enda, tells 
us that a book of the Gospels, richly bound and illuminated, was in 
his time (he died in 1405) still preserved in the monastery of Arran. 
Among the original works said to have been composed in this 
island is a poem entitled the "Voyage of the Children of Ua Corra," 
which tells us of seven brothers who set out in a skin-covered bark, 
on a pilgrimage of discovery into the depths of the Atlantic, where 
they met with as many adventures as the heroes of the Odyssey. 
The study of the Greek and Latin classics formed a portion of the 
educational course in the Irish schools. From the frequency with 
which we meet with copies of Virgil, Ovid, Cicero, Lactantius, 
Plato, and Aristotle these authors would appear to have been special 
favorites among the Irish monks. 

Nor were the fine arts neglected. Besides the art of illuminating, 
which attained a degree of perfection never since surpassed, metal- 
lurgy, sculpture, and architecture were also successfully cultivated. 
The relics of antiquity still to be found in Arran, such as portions of 
a round tower, exquisitely carved crosses, incised inscriptions, finely 
formed arches and cut-stone mullions and lintels, are all eloquent 
witnesses of the artistic skill of the monks of the early Irish church. 
From the circumstances of their abode, it will not be considered 
strange if the science of navigation had a special attraction for Saint 
Enda and his insular community. They loved the sea. Its solemn 
voice filled them with joy, for it seemed to them to be for ever chant- 
ing a hymn of praise to its great Creator. As they launched fear- 
lessly out upon its waters they mingled their psalms with the cries 
of the sea-birds, and thus animate and inanimate nature united in 
adoration of the Almighty. Among the saints who were friends and 
contemporaries of Saint Enda was the famous navigator, Saint 
Brendan. Many claim for this holy man, and not without a certain 
amount of probability, the first discovery of America. Before set- 
ting out on his voyage he paid a visit to the Abbot of Arran, to ask 
his prayers and to be guided by his counsel. As one of Erin's 
poetic sons the lamented Denis Florence MacCarthy has immor- 
talized this pilgrimage in verse, we shall here be excused for quoting 
a few verses: 



1889.] A FAMOUS IRISH SCHOOL AND ITS FOUNDER. 473, 

" Hearing how the blessed Enda lived apart, 

Amid the sacred cares of Ara-Mhor; 
And how beneath his eye, spread like a chart, 

Lay all the isles of that remotest shore ; 
And how he had collected in his mind 

All that was known of the old sea, 
I left the hill of miracles behind 

And sailed from out the shallow, sandy Leigh. 

"Again I sailed and crossed the stormy sound 

That lies beneath Binn-Arte's rocky height, 
And there upon the shore the saint I found 

Waiting my coming through the tardy night. 
He led me to his home beside the wave, 

Where, with his monks, the pious father dwelled, 
And to my listening ear he freely gave 

The sacred knowledge that his bosom held. 

" When I proclaimed the project that I nursed, 

How 'twas for this that I his blessing sought, 
An irrepressible cry of joy outburst 

From his pure lips, that blessed me for the thought. 
He said that he, too, had in visions strayed 

O'er the untracked ocean's bellowing foam ; 
Bid me have hope, that God would give me aid, 

And bring me safe back to my native home." 

It was in the midst of these hallowed associations that Saint 
Enda went to his reward in the year 544, having for over sixty years 
lived a life of penitence which for rigor was unsurpassed even by 
the anchorites of the Egyptian desert. His remains were laid to rest 
in the cemetery of the little mortuary chapel which he himself had 
built, and which still exists, as if its founder had imparted to it a 
share of his own immortality. 

As one stands over the grave of St. Enda, with the ocean 
spreading out before him, and the cliffs of Moher looming in the dis- 
tance, all the associations of the place rush upon him and fill him 
with emotion. The spirit of the angelic life practised there fourteen 
hundred years ago comes back upon him in all its beauty. He sees 
once more the sea covered with craft filled with pilgrims eagerly 
flocking to this desolate island. He hears the accents of the Celt 
and the Roman mingling with the rougher cadences of the Saxon 
and the Cymbri. He listens to the voices of human adoration 
chanting in concert with the mysterious music of the ocean; and he 
feels that land and sea, arch and altar, while echoing the praises of 
the great Creator, also become eloquent of Ireland's glory. 

WILLIAM GANLY. 

Clifden, Co. Galway. 



474 A DAUGHTER OF THE KING. [July? 



A DAUGHTER OF THE KING.* 

SARA PETER was born on the loth of May, 1800, in the town 
of Chillicothe, Ross County, Ohio. She came of an honorable and 
honored race. Her father, Thomas Worthington, was at one time 
a member of the Ohio Senate, and subsequently governor of the 
State. Her mother, a beautiful and clever woman, early laid the 
foundations of the sterling principles of duty and integrity which 
were to be the life-long watchwords of her gifted daughter, while 
from both parents she inherited a strong religious temperament. 
She received a thoroughly practical, womanly education from the 
best teachers of the day, and was married at the age of sixteen to 
Edward King, fourth son of the Hon. Rufus King, of New York, a 
name revered in* the early history of the century. Five children, 
four boys and a girl, blessed this happy union, so soon to be dis- 
solved by death. Two of these children, a boy and a girl, died in 
early childhood. 

In the year 1831 Mr. and Mrs. King removed to Cincinnati, then 
the foremost city of the West, and a centre of intelligence and 
refinement, having been settled principally by people of means and 
education from New York, New Jersey, and Pennsylvania. Here 
Mrs. King at once assumed a leading position in the highest social 
circles, her drawing-room becoming a salon where were assembled 
the literary and musical celebrities of the day. She was herself a 
fine musician, and preserved her fondness for the art, as well as her 
unusual skill, to the last days of her life. She was at this time an 
Episcopalian, and became actively identified with all charitable and 
religious works in which her contemporaries were engaged. 

Surrounded by an atmosphere of love, blessed with congenial 
friends, and occupied in agreeable pursuits, her life flowed on in 
smoothest currents for a while ; but the hand of the Lord was already 
uplifted, and she was soon to know the chastening and sanctifying 
discipline of sorrow with which an all-wise Creator sees fit to visit 
the favored souls whom he destines for a special mission. 

In 1836 her husband died, and after much deliberation she 
decided to break up her home in Cincinnati and accompany her 
boys to Cambridge, Massachusetts, where they were to complete 
their education at Harvard College. She realized that she had now 

* Memoirs of the Life of Mrs. Sara Peter. By Margaret R. King. 2 vols. Cincinnati : 
Robert Clark & Co. 



1889.] A DAUGHTER OF THE KING. 



475 



a double task to perform in their regard, and with her, then as 
always, to become convinced where her duty lay, was to act 
immediately. Her life in Cambridge was quiet and uneventful, 
but she spent much time in study, of which she was very fond, and 
became thoroughly proficient in the French, German, and Italian 
languages, the knowledge of which was in after years to become a 
powerful auxiliary in her works of mercy and charity, by famil- 
iarizing her with places and people whom she must have other- 
wise known only superficially. While residing in this place 
she became acquainted with many famous literary people, and was 
in constant intercourse with the best thinkers of the time, for it was 
invariably her custom to form acquaintance and friendship with 
persons of superior intellect and independence of thought. 

Their education completed, her sons graduated Vith honor ; the 
class of 1838, in which the eldest, Hon. Rufus King, now of Cincin- 
nati, matriculated, counting such names as Joseph Story and James 
Russell 'Lowell among its honored members. Her choice of resi- 
dence would have been Philadelphia, but Mr. King preferred his 
native State, and she returned with him to Cincinnati, where she 
resided until 1844. In that year she married Mr. Peter, whom she 
had met in Philadelphia when he had been British consul. He was 
a man of excellent family, fine education, and rare intellectual attain- 
ments, spending all his leisure moments in literary pursuits, which 
with his ample fortune he could well afford to do. 

He resided in Philadelphia, whither she repaired on her marriage, 
and their house became the centre of refined sociability. Good 
works were not forgotten ; as formerly she interested herself in every- 
thing tending to the real advancement of her sex or the amelioration 
of its woes, and the " Rosina House for Magdalens," established 
through her efforts and those of several other benevolent ladies, still 
exists and flourishes. About this time she also originated the now 
famous " Philadelphia School of Design for Women," which, after 
forty years, is still growing and showing greater development every 
day. 

But sorrow once more spread its wings over her happy home, and 
in the year 185 I her second son, who had engaged in mercantile pur- 
suits, died, leaving a young widow and three helpless little boys. 
Mother and wife were so overwhelmed with grief at this sudden loss 
that it was thought best for them to make a visit to Europe. The 
prominence of her husband's family caused her to have many letters 
of introduction to influential people abroad, and the travellers were 
thus unusually equipped for what promised, as it proved, to be an 
interesting journey. Space forbids making extracts from her letters, 



476 A DAUGHTER OF THE KING. [July, 

which are well worth the reading, showing her great powers of ob- 
servation, her just but critical mind, and her wonderful facility for 
seizing the best points and features of people and places, and of 
discovering beauty wherever it was to be found, as also her great 
originality and independence of character. Very noticeable here 
is the gradually awakening tendency of her truly Catholic mind. 
Unlike many Americans to whom Rome and Catholicism are but 
synonyms for tyranny and superstition, who in admiring the beauties 
of painting and sculpture unfolded to their untaught and wondering 
eyes forget that the preservation of these treasures is due to the 
jealous care of the Catholic Church, as their inception and accom- 
plishment was the natural and direct outcome of her influence and 
teaching, Mrs. Peter recognized at once these obvious truths, and 
seemed never Weary of admiring not onfy these beautiful accessories 
of Catholic art, but also the simplicity, sincerity, and unaffected piety 
of the people among whom she journeyed and with whom she soon 
became familiar. She was presented to Pius IX., who granted her a 
special audience and with whom she was much impressed. A jour- 
ney to the Holy Land was next undertaken, and it was while at 
Jerusalem during Holy Week that she first began to realize the won- 
derful beauties of the Catholic Church, being greatly moved by the 
difference between the conduct of the priests and people of the 
Roman and Greek communions. 

She returned to America much benefited by her sojourn in 
Europe, filled with a new love for the arts, and more than ever 
animated, if that were possible, by the desire to instil her. own en- 
thusiasm into the hearts of her friends and co-laborers. 

In the beginning of 1853 Mr. Peter died, and she at once set 
about removing to Cincinnati in order to be near her only son. 
Gathering around her a band of earnest and refined women, with 
their assistance she succeeded in establishing what was known as the 
" Cincinnati Academy of Fine Arts," the germ of the present famous 
"Cincinnati Art Museum." 

In 1854 we find her again en route to Europe, where she intended 
to make extensive purchases for the academy. Financial failures in 
America subsequently curtailed these investments, but this visit to 
Europe was the occasion of her becoming a member of the Catholic 
Church. On the way to Civita Vecchia she found herself in the 
company of a distinguished body of ecclesiastics bound for Rome, 
where the dogma of the Immaculate Conception was then under 
discussion. Archbishop Hughes was of the number, and to him she 
had a letter of introduction from Archbishop Purcell. There were 
many other notabilities, the Bishop of Philadelphia, a cardinal, 




1889.] A DAUGHTER OF THE KING. 477 

several European bishops, the Princess Borghese, the Duke de Roche- 
foucault, besides other intelligent and fervent Catholics. For the 
first time Mrs. Peter became socially familiar with those whom 
natural, and at that time national, prejudice had misrepresented in 
many ways, and her strong and just mind soon fully appreciated the 
healthy moral atmosphere and refined social and aesthetic conditions 
which surrounded her newly-found friends and companions. From 
that time forward her conversion was assured; she was given the 
entree of the most exclusive and thoroughly Catholic salons in Rome ; 
cardinals, bishops, priests, the pope himself, became her friends ; the 
scales fell from her eyes, and in a very short time she made her 
abjuration and was formally received into the Catholic Church. Her 
feelings at this time will be best described by a few short extracts 
from her letters. She writes : 

" . . . I soon found, as I believe every candid mind must fin^, that a mist 
of error surrounded me, that I had mistaken tinsel for gold; that, like other Pro- 
testants,! had boldly pronounced judgment on things of which I was either wholly 
ignorant, or deceived by false information. Do not imagine that I have been 
swayed about by any one. Nobody seems to have supposed me so spiritually 
engaged as to think of taking either measure or persuasion for my conversion. 
Yet here, where daily I touch the dust made holy by the blessed army of martyrs, 
whose faith, so far as the earliest records attest (and, providentially, they are 
abundant both in books and stones to a degree I never dreamed of), is still main- 
tained in all its fervor and purity by their successors at this moment here, if 
anywhere, a pious soul may hope for the blessing of God on sincere and fervent 
prayers for guidance into the way of his truth. . . . When I come home I 
trust, by the Divine aid, to enter steadily upon the prosecution of some of those 
good works for the souls and bodies of men which it has always been in my 
heart to do if I could have adequate assistance. Under the care of a church 
which provides food and work for all her children I shall have helpers." Again : 
" You who know that in matters of moment I am not wanting in steadiness may 
feel assured that I feel the strength of the ground on which I stand. I have for 
years been restless and unhappy on finding that the views held and taught by 
our church could not satisfy me, and my unhappiness arose from my own self- 
accusations, because I was not satisfied. Many others, I doubt not, live and die 
with the same habitual self-condemnation, yet never suspect the cause ; and now, 
as I come to the clearer light of truth, I wonder that I should always have been 
so near, and yet never discovered it. I dare say you will feel no little surprise to 
hear all these things, and wonder how I should know about subjects hitherto un- 
known to me ; but I have had excellent opportunities to learn and fearful internal 
difficulties to overcome before I could separate my better judgment from the 
mass of error which overlaid it. 

" I say nothing of the struggles in my conscience, my horrible fears of being 
misguided by illusions, but which seem gradually to be dissipated by the light of 
a clearer faith." 

It seems appropriate here to state that her firm and fond affec- 
tion for the Ladies of the Sacred Heart was begun at this period of 
her history and suffered no diminution till the close of her life. 

VOL. XLIX. 31 



478 A DAUGHTER OF THE KING. [J ul y? 

Having placed herself under the guidance of the Abbe Mermillod, 
she prepared for her reception into the church by a spiritual retreat, 
which she made in the beautiful convent of Trinita di Monte, the 
Roman house of the Ladies of the Sacred Heart. She always 
reverted to this season of preparation and the associations it recalled 
with the greatest pleasure, and some years later a branch of the 
order was induced, through her solicitations, to establish a house in 
Cincinnati, where they have at present a beautiful convent in one of 
the most attractive suburbs of that city. 

If at this time Mrs. Peter had not been restrained by natural ties, 
and felt, moreover, that her duty plainly lay in her own country, 
where the remainder of her life was to be consecrated to her fellow- 
creatures, her inclinations would have led her to remain in Rome, 
where the conditions of life so strongly appealed to her poetic and 
religious nature, always so susceptible to the beautiful and exalted in 
their highest form. 

But we soon find her once more at home, enjoying a short rest 
before entering with renewed activity upon what was to prove the 
crowning period of her grand and noble life. Her first efforts were 
directed to the establishment of a home of reformation for fallen 
women, a charity which had occupied her thoughts and in which we 
have seen her interested in her earlier womanhood. She applied to 
the Sisters of the Good Shepherd, already located in Louisville, who 
responded with two sisters. From this foundation have grown 
several large institutions in and about Cincinnati devoted to the re- 
formation of fallen women and the preservation of young children, 
both white and colored. Mrs. Peter always entertained a special 
affection for these ladies and their valued work. After one of her 
voyages to Rome she presented them with the relics of St. Clement, 
martyr, obtained with great trouble and in spite of many obstacles, 
which now rest under the high altar of their beautiful chapel, also the 
gift of an eminent Catholic lady, Mrs. S. S. Boyle, lately deceased. 
In this chapel Mrs. Peter erected a marble memorial altar, dedicated 
to Our Lady of the Sacred Heart, whose image crowns and adorns it. 

Two years passed quickly in various charitable enterprises, and 
in 1857 Mrs. Peter again set forth on her oft- repeated pilgrimage. 
Her active mind had conceived a project, the execution of which 
would have seemed impossible to one not gifted with her indomi- 
table courage and perseverance. Her own fortune, or as much of it 
as she could control, was already at the disposal of God's poor and 
needy. Why not interest others in the grand work ? Her acquaint- 
ance among the bishops and princes of the church abroad, as well as 
with wealthy Catholics in Italy, France, and Austria, was quite 



1889.] A DAUGHTER OF THE KING. 479 

extensive, and she resolved to go in person to the pope, ask his 
consent to her undertaking, and, equipped with his approval and 
blessing, to engage in the missionary work of collecting means for 
the establishment of new and much-needed charities in her native 
country. She found the Holy Father very sympathetic; he gave 
her not only his approval and benediction, but a letter and a purse 
full of napoleons. 

So, too, were the other dignitaries of the church ; all united in giv- 
ing her the kindest recommendations to people in high places, and 
what had been undertaken as a duty soon became a labor of love, 
and the means of founding and cementing many dear and lasting 
friendships. For to see Mrs. Peter was to be impressed by her strik- 
ing personality ; highly gifted in every way, both by nature and 
education, possessing in a marked degree that savoir faire which 
never fails to serve its owner in good stead, modest though unembar- 
rassed, her charming manners and simple, graceful courtesy were a 
ready passport to the most exclusive homes of the Old World. Her 
letters are full of accounts of the kindness with which she was every- 
where received, and, while never violating the seal of reserve* which 
hospitality places upon its recipients, she is never weary of praising 
the true refinement and noble simplicity which seemed to be the 
motto of those refined homes. We will here give an extract from 
one of her letters on the occasion of an accidental meeting with the 
Empress of Austria. She says: 

" Being about to call on one of the ladies of the empress, I saw her approach- 
ing with her majesty as I alighted from my carriage. Both bowed, but as it is 
contrary to etiquette for royalty afoot to stop and converse in a court, we all pro- 
ceeded up-stairs of course, I following. On reaching the first gallery the em- 
press bowed and begged me to stop a moment. She inquired for my health, and, 
taking both my hands in hers, she said she desired to tell me how much she 
wished for my success, and that she should constantly pray for it, and that I must 
not forget to pray for her. She pressed my hands in the most affectionate 
way ; and with what do you fancy her hands were covered ? Gray yarn mitts 
coming well up on the wrists, for the morning air was keen. She wore a plain 
straw bonnet, and a cross-barred woollen Scotch shawl, that I suppose none of 
our elegantes would think of putting on their shoulders. The empress is so very 
gracious and elegant a person in manners that, wear what she will, she is unmis- 
takably a lady, and it is a beautiful spectacle to see one having so much at her 
command deny herself every superfluity that she may secure the means to make 
others happy. She contributed most generously to niy mission." 

Mrs. Peter had endeavored to engage a colony of " Little Sisters 
of the Poor" for America, but was at that time unsuccessful. How- 
ever, they came some years later. At Aix-la-Chapelle, the mother- 
house of the Sisters of St. Francis, she succeeded in obtaining several, 
who made the first American foundation of the order in Cincinnati, 
where the convent of Santa Clara is now the mother-house in this 



480 A DAUGHTER OF THE KING. [July,. 

country. Retracing her steps, she prepared to turn her face Home- 
ward ; her last stopping-place was Kinsale, from whence she departed 
for America with a company of eleven Sisters of Mercy from the 
convent in that town. She had no reason to regret this choice. 
The manifold duties of this order are especially suited to the needs 
of a large city ; they include, besides parochial teaching, houses of 
refuge for destitute women and homeless children, visiting the sick 
at their homes, and also visiting hospitals and prisons. During the 
civil war they rendered valuable aid, and also through the cholera 
epidemic of 1866 they turned their house into a hospital, nursing the 
inmates night and day. 

The beginning of the year 1860 found Mrs. Peter once more at 
home, surrounded by kind friends and active in every benevolent 
project. For a time she occupied but two rooms in her house, reserv- 
ing the rest for the Franciscans, but subsequently an adjacent lot was 
purchased, on which a convent was erected, and she resumed control 
of her household. Although filled with the rarest objects of vertu 
and art, her parlors were now rarely opened to society, her whole 
life being occupied with good works, and her time arranged with as 
much precision and method as though she had been one of the good 
sisters with whom she really lived, for one roof covered both houses. 
The words of her biographer accurately describe the calm life she 
now led, 

"with holy influences always surrounding her, a great and necessary rest 
after so much excitement as had filled the last few years. A window of her bed- 
room looked into the chapel, and the sweet voices of the sisters, all through the 
night, in prayer and devotion, lulled her slumbers and gave peace to her dreams. * 
Her own morning devotions were made at this window, just over the high 
altar, with all its suggestions to holy thought. From this home of peace she 
went forth on her daily round of untiring work, visiting every place where 
human suffering could be found, and strengthening the hearts of the sisters in 
their own works of love and charity." 

The heart of Mrs. Peter ever turned towards Rome, a*nd three 
times more did she visit that sacred spot, once on the occasion of the 
silver jubilee of Pius IX., again on the occasion of the CEcumenical 
Council. Her last journey was made with the pilgrims in 1 874. 
Regarding the council she writes : 

"I have just returned from St. Peter's, where I have witnessed a magnificent 
scene. The full council assembled in their episcopal robes and mitres, each 
taking his accustomed seat, with the Holy Father on his throne. The immense 
church was literally packed with a joyous throng. A bishop mounted a tempor- 
ary pulpit and read the decrees which have been the subject of discussion during 

*A number of Poor Clares, who pray without intermission day and night, are attached to the 
convent of Santa Clara. They are, or were until recently, the only members of the community 
in the United States. Mrs. Peter esteemed it a great privilege to be able to dwell under the 
same roof with these austere religious, who fast perpetually and take turns in praying contin- 
ually before the Blessed Sacrament. 



1889.] A DAUGHTER OF THE KING. 481 

the past weeks, in Greek and Latin ; the l Veni Creator Spiritus' was sung ; 
then each bishop gave his vote in turn. The pope gave a short address, and the 
whole closed by the singing of the ' Te Deum,' in which the immense concourse 
joined, as they had done in the 'Veni Creator.' The scene was soul-inspiring. 
As we all said the ' Credo' together, it was impossible to restrain my tears. 
Before me were good and great representatives of the faith, from every nation 
under the sun, chanting with one heart and one voice one common faith, one 
firm hope, one undying confidence in eternal truths." 

She was at this time seventy years old. One would think that 
increasing age and infirmity might have made such inroads on her 
vitality as to render her life in future one of ease and retirement. 
But time dealt lightly with this incomparable woman, and after four 
years spent pleasantly and happily among her friends, during which 
time her charitable works knew no intermission, we find her once 
agajn and for the last time turning towards the Mecca of her soul, 
joining the devoted band of pilgrims who were about to present their 
homage and condolences to the Holy Father, then as now a prisoner 
in his own rightful domains. This visit was somewhat saddened by 
traces which death had left among her old friends. Here and there 
she chronicles the departure of this or that one, and her letters have 
an undertone of sadness absent from her earlier epistles. Her 
love and appreciation of the Holy Father was unbounded, and he in 
turn always gave her some special token of interest, which much 
delighted her. She had many souvenirs of his kind regard, and 
these were valued as priceless treasures. She often related the 
following incidents, evidences of his gentle and kindly attention. 

During her last visit to Rome she arrived in the midst of a grand 
celebration, and with her usual indefatigable ardor elbowed her way 
through the crowd into the near presence of the Holy Father. His 
attention was attracted, and he smilingly exclaimed in an audible 
voice, to the attendant beside him, " Ecco nostra cara Signora 
Peter" " There is our dear Signora Peter." 

" On another occasion," relates her biographer, " an incident occurred, testi- 
fying to the beautiful simple-heartedness and tenderness of this holy man. As 
the faithful were receiving the blessing of the Holy Father, Mrs. Peter entered 
somewhat late, and a little agitated, and in kneeling dropped her staff, which 
fell beyond the rail, startling His Holiness, who looked around, and himself rais- 
ing the staff, handed it to the venerable lady, saying, ' Signora Peter, you have 
done what all Europe has failed to do ; you have stopped me in my career.' 

" With these happy memories, with vigor sufficient for her work, surrounded 
by the holy influences of the church, loving friends, a beautiful home, with the 
silent companionship of her treasured books and pictures, this valiant woman was 
to be blest with a peaceful close to her useful life. " 

Three years more of labor, never ceasing, but now somewhat re- 
stricted by reason of increasing age ; three years more of counsel here, 
admonition there, encouragement to this one and charitable aid to 



I 



482 A DAUGHTER OF THE KING. [July r 

another ; three years more of boundless good-will and untiring chanty 
in thought and word and deed, and the end was come. 

Always prepared, she received a herald of her dissolution in an 
accident which occurred some time before her death, and from which 
she never recovered. Peacefully and painlessly she passed away, on 
the sixth day of February, 1877, in the seventy-seventh year of her 
age. All through the city went the sorrowful news, " Mrs. Peter is 
dead." Then from the convents that her charity and zeal had 
founded, from the asylums that her benevolence had fostered, from 
the refuges that her womanly heart had held dearest among her 
" treasures of the poor," from the homes, cultured or unrefined, Cath- 
olic or Protestant, gentle or simple, that her hand and heart had 
directly or indirectly blessed, came forth the sisters whose friend she 
had been, whose early struggles she had assisted, whose cares' she 
had lightened, whose battles she had fought ; the men, women, and 
children she had saved from poverty and death, or worse than death ; 
rich and poor, scholarly and ignorant, mistress and servant, the lame 
and blind, without regard to race, creed, or color. 

Before the silent form they passed, a seemingly endless proces- 
sion two days' long, praying and weeping, and when the doors were 
closed that the beloved form might be taken to the church where 
the funeral obsequies were to be celebrated, they hastened one and 
all to old St. Xavier's, where they filled the spacious pews and broad 
aisles to overflowing. As she lay in her coffin clothed for the 
grave, her strong, beautifully chiselled features like carven marble, 
one involuntarily thought of some dead archbishop or other depart- 
ed dignitary of the church waiting calmly the roll-call of final judg- 
ment. But though the massive brow with its deep lines betokened 
the masculine intellect of her who had done so much for God and 
her fellow-creatures, no one who ever looked into the clear and 
earnest eyes or watched the expressive, mobile lips could have pro- 
nounced them aught but purely womanly. 

She was laid in the mortuary chapel built under her own direc- 
tion during her life-time in that part of the Catholic cemetery 
dedicated to the use of the Franciscan Sisters. 

More than a decade has passed since that day, but the fruits of 
her life have multiplied a hundred-fold, and so will increase and mul- 
tiply to the end of time. They are her portion and heritage for ever 
in the house of her Father, about whose business she was always 
eager. "Her conversation was in heaven." "What do I care," 
she was wont to say, " for the opinions of the world ? My portion is 
with God, and my inheritance with the saints." She was indeed a 
true daughter of the King. MARY E. MANNIX. 



;889.] NEITHER GENEROUS NOR JUST. 483 



NEITHER GENEROUS NOR JUST. 

ON the 3Oth of April in this year of grace, whilst the whole 
nation was celebrating with paeans of joy and gratitude the centennial 
of the inauguration of the first President of the United States ; when 
from every temple of religion in the land was going up to heaven the 
prayer of thanksgiving and hope ; when, in the presence of the Chief 
Magistrate of the country, surrounded by thousands of representa- 
tives of every creed, on the spot on which Washington had taken 
the oath of office one hundred years before, the Archbishop of New 
York with uplifted hands was praying " the grace of our Lord Jesus 
Christ, and the charity of God; and the communication of the Holy 
Spirit be with you all ; and may the blessing of God Almighty, 
Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, descend upon our beloved country and 
abide with it for ever," a message from Bishop Potter but too well 
calculated to stir up the fire of religious animosity was speeding 
from hand to hand of " Protestants whatever their religious convic- 
tions," 

" Fast as the Fiery Cross could circle o'er 
Dale, glen, and valley, down and moor." 

This message was a letter addressed to Rev. Dr. Shackelford, 
Rector 'of the Church of the Holy Redeemer, New York, to aid him 
in raising funds for the erection of a new church. It runs thus : 

" Your case is certainly one of especial hardship. Accepting in 
good faith the permission given by the city authorities, nearly a 
quarter of a century ago, to occupy certain lots as a site for a church, 
it has come about that owing to the desire of a hostile religious com- 
munion to get possession of what, by every rightful and equitable 
construction, was your own property, you are now compelled to pay 
thousands of dollars for continued possession of it. The whole his- 
tory of this business, so far as it relates to those who have been 
striving to dispossess you, is a thoroughly discreditable one, and it 
ought to awaken the generous resentment of every friend of religious 
liberty. For certainly, it is a grave infringement of such liberty that 
any religious sect should be allowed to avail itself of a legal techni- 
cality in order to get possession, whether for so-called religious or 
other purposes, of that which is not their own. And the conspicuous 
inconsistency of this action, with that taken in the interests of those 
who have fattened upon State and municipal gifts and grants, would 



484 NEITHER GENEROUS NOR JUST. [July, 

seem to indicate that Protestantism has still abundant raison d'etre, 
and that Protestants may find in your case an object worthy, what- 
ever their religious convictions, of their substantial sympathy." * 

This letter was printed and circulated privately amongst Protes- 
tants with the following note by the rector : 



' DEAR SIR : Feeling that the circumstances in which we find 
ourselves placed make a strong claim upon the religious public, I 
hope you will aid us with a contribution to our building fund." 

This extraordinary epistle was a shock and a surprise to the whole 
community, Protestant no less than Catholic. It comported so ill 
with the position of the writer that few hesitated to call it undignified, 
and the time of its issue was so unfortunate that it was fitly stamped 
as un-American. To seek to stir up the religious prejudices of non- 
Catholics for the purposes of raising money for church-building 
places the bishop in a most unenviable attitude before the public, and 
one on which men will have little hesitation in forming an opinion. 

At no time is it Christian to evoke religious rancor, and least of 
all in our day and country. We had hoped that the time had passed 
when for the sake of religious opinion men could be pilloried. 
Bishop Potter has posed lately on a memorable occasion as a laudator 
temporis acti. He has set before the rulers of the state the conduct 
of the Father of his Country under given circumstances, and called 
attention to the need there was in this day of shaping public conduct 
according to the norm of a hundred years ago. Availing ourselves 
of a like privilege, let us submit to the bishop Washington's opinion 
of an action bearing a strong family likeness to that under considera- 
tion. 

At the beginning of the Revolutionary War, just after Washing- 
ton had taken command of the Continental army at Cambridge and 
at Boston Heights, an attempt was made to repeat the celebration of 
the discovery of the Gunpowder Plot. The New-Englanders had 
imported the custom of burning not a stuffed image of Guy Fawkes, 
but an effigy of the Pope. 

It was proposed, as the 5th of November, 1775, approached, to 
renew this offensive sport in the American camp near Boston, while 
Montgomery and Arnold were making their way toward Quebec 
with every prospect of its capture. The worse than stupid malignity 
of this sort of carnival was rebuked by Washington in this order : 

"Nov. 5th. As the commander-in-chief has been apprised of a 
design formed for the observance of that ridiculous and childish 

* The italics are ours. 



.] NEITHER GENEROUS NOR JUST. 485 

custom of burning the effigy of the pope, he cannot help expressing 
his surprise that there should be officers and soldiers in this army so 
void of common sense as not to see the impropriety of such a step at 
this juncture ; at a time when we are soliciting and have really ob- 
tained the friendship and alliance of the people of Canada, whom we 
ought to consider as brethren embarked in the same cause, the 
defence of the general liberty of America. At such a juncture, and 
in such circumstances, to be insulting their religion is so monstrous 
as not to be suffered or excused ; indeed, instead of offering them the 
most remote insult, it is our duty to address public thanks to these 
our brethren, as to them we are so much indebted for every late 
happy success over the common enemy in Canada." 

The wisdom and the warning contained in these words are no 
less applicable to ourselves and to our own times. than to those to 
whom they were addressed. For the victories, both of war and 
peace, of the past hundred years the nation is indebted to Catholics 
in as large a measure at least as it was to their brave co-religionists 
of Washington's day, and we would add, as it is to the members of 
any denomination of the present. Is a public insult to their religion 
to be held as less " monstrous " now than then ? The preservation of 
the state of prosperity flowing from the peaceful union of all classes 
and denominations in furthering the common good should be dear 
to every member of the community, and whatever tends to disturb 
this union by exciting that most ruthless of all strifes, religious war, 
ought not to be suffered or excused. There have been dark days in 
the history of religion in our country which Protestants do not desire 
to have dragged into the light. Happily they were few as total 
eclipses and as short-lived ; and he confers no boon upon his country 
who would renew these painful periods. 

The " hostile religious communion" to which the bishop refers, 
we need hardly remind our readers, is the Catholic Church. It is 
equally unnecessary to say that any attitude of hostility it has ever 
assumed has been one of defence, as in the present instance. In 
his letter the church is charged, first, with being guilty of " a grave 
infringement of religious liberty," and, second, of having " fattened 
on State and municipal grants." The whole history of the case 
which has given rise to these bitter and unjust accusations is the 
fullest reply. 

Some twenty-five years ago the Church of the Redeemer peti- 
tioned the Common Council of New York for a building site for 
church purposes. Permission was granted to occupy, during the 
pleasure of the Common Council, a portion of the block of public 
land bounded by Eighty-first and Eighty-second Streets, and Madi- 



486 NEITHER GENEROUS NOR JUST. [July, 

son and Fourth Avenues. A frame church was erected occupying- 
two lots, and no further improvements were made for twenty years, 
when, in May, 1884, the Board of Aldermen directed its Committee 
on Finance to report on claims of the church to twelve lots whilst 
occupying only two. The following is the committee's report, as 
found in the City Record of May, 1884 : 

" In obedience to the directions contained in the resolution, your committee 
has investigated the subject with the following result : The records of the 
Common Council show that on the 3ist day of December, 1864, the Mayor 
approved a resolution which 'had been previously adopted by the Common 
Council, of which the following is a copy : 

" Resolved, That the Church of the Redeemer, Yorkville, whose petition for site has been 
referred to Committee on Finance, have permission to occupy the lots for which they have 
asked as a site for a church, during the pleasure of the Common Council. 



. . 



The property in question is held, or rather occupied, by authority of the 
foregoing resolution only, and is a complete answer to the inquiry as to the terms 
or authority by which it is so held. 

"The inquiry as to the extent of the permit, or the property embraced in it, is 
not, however, so readily answered. It appears that the church occupies as a 
1 site ' the entire front on the west side of Fourth Avenue, from Eighty-first to 
Eighty-second Street, and four lots (100 feet) front on Eighty-second Street, in 
the rear of the four lots fronting on Fourth Avenue, making twelve full-size city 
lots in all. The church edifice is only a small frame structure occupying about 
two full city lots, so that the site includes, as at present enclosed, ten full city 
lots in excess of the ground actually in use as a site for building. 

" After a careful search of the records of the Common Council, your com- 
mittee has been unable to find any evidence that the church ever asked for the 
use of the land in question, previous to the passage of the resolution of December 
31, 1864, above quoted. 

" The only reference to such a petition is contained in a report of the Com- 
mittee on Finance of the Board of Aldermen, made September 7, 1863, and 
then laid over. This report was accompanied by a resolution authorizing and 
directing the Comptroller to make a grant of land two hundred feet on Eighty- 
second Street, by one hundred and two feet two and one-half inches on Fourth 
Avenue, to the said church, on which to build a church, parish school, and rec- 
tory. This resolution, however, was never passed by the Common Council, nor 
was the parish school or rectory ever built. It is clear, therefore, that all this 
property, exclusive of the site actually occupied by the church edifice, by per- 
mission of the Common Council and during its pleasure, consisting of ten full 
city lots, worth, probably, $150,000 at the present time, has been held, used, and 
enjoyed by the rector, warden, and vestry of the Church of the Redeemer with- 
out the shadow of a legal claim or title of any kind. 

" Beyond question it is the duty of the city authorities to recover possession of 
the property in the interest of the taxpayers, who own it, as the value of the land 
is certainly too great to be diverted from the assets of the city. No other church 
congregation has any such privilege granted to it, and no exception should be 
made in favor of the Church of the Redeemer. 

" For a period of nearly twenty years this church congregation has held, 



1889.] NEITHER GENEROUS NOR JUST. 487 

used, and enjoyed the public land, the greater portion of it without even the sem- 
blance of a title, as the church edifice occupies as a ' site ' only about one-sixth 
part of the land, and the other five-sixths has been so held by ' possession ' only, 
a tenure by which, in the upper part of the city, many other parcels of the public 
lands are now held. 

" From the above, which your committee believe to be the facts in the case, 
it is apparent that the land used as a site for the church edifice (about two full 
city lots) is held only during the pleasure of the Common Council, and that the 
other ten city lots, which the church officers have enclosed and occupy, are so 
enclosed and occupied without any legal right or authority whatever. 

" Your committee, having in the foregoing report obeyed the instructions con- 
tained in the resolution, respectfully submit the same to your honorable body for 
such other and further action in the premises as may be deemed necessary or 
advisable. 

"It was moved that the report be received and placed on file. The president 
put the question whether the board would agree with said motion, which was 
decided in the affirmative." , 

From this report it is clear that the only authority competent to 
pronounce on the tenure of the property occupied by the church 
had, after due investigation, declared that the church had permission 
to occupy two lots during the pleasure of the Common Council, and 
that to the remaining ten lots it had no title whatever. 

It is difficult to believe that notice of this action of the Board of 
Aldermen had not reached the parties most interested. Neither is it 
alleged that any other action favorable to the church's claims was 
taken by the board subsequently. Yet the church after this began a 
new building on the land so held. The matter was submitted to the 
Sinking Fund Commission after the building had been begun, and 
pending its action the church was enjoined from continuing further 
improvements. The commission was composed of the mayor, re- 
corder, and comptroller of the city. The decision arrived at by 
them was, that the land in question belonged to the taxpayers and 
should be put up at public auction. The Church of the Redeemer 
succeeded in having the decision set aside, and secured the right to 
purchase the land at private sale. The price fixed for the eight lots 
was $77,500, which was afterwards reduced -to $67,500. 

In February, 1866, the Sisters of Mercy received a lease of the 
remaining portion of the block from the Common Council for ninety- 
nine years at the yearly rent of one dollar. Here they established 
St. Joseph's Industrial Home, for the protection and support of 
destitute girls between the ages of eleven and eighteen (the daugh- 
ters of deceased or disabled soldiers having a preference), and for the 
reception of homeless little children committed to it by the police 
courts. The infirmary for sick children in the Home looks out upon 
the lots on which it was proposed to erect the new church of the 



NEITHER GENEROUS NOR JUST. [July, 

Redeemer. A year after date of the report of the Common Council 
above cited, the Sisters petitioned for four of the lots declared to be 
public property, in order to secure light and air for their children's 
infirmary. This was their only interest in the matter. So just 
seemed this request that Dr. Shackelford addressed to the Mother 
Superior of the Home the following note: "We agree to a clause 
being put in the deed of the land requiring the space in the rear of 
the west wall of our new church to be kept open, and not be built 
upon so long as your present building in the rear of our lot is used 
as an infirmary; the object, of course, being to secure for your sick 
children light and air." With this assurance the Sisters allowed 
their petition to remain in abeyance, and have since taken no action 
in the case. With the decision of the Sinking Fund Commissioners 
the Home has nothing to do. It has benefited in no way, except 
as above, by the whole transaction. This is the history of the whole 
matter. 

"The whole history of this business," writes Bishop Potter, 
"ought to awaken the generous resentment of every friend of religi- 
ous liberty." 

It is difficult to see any reasonable grounds for this appeal to the 
friends of religious liberty. It would rather seem that if the claims 
of Bishop Potter in the premises were allowed, what he understands 
by religious liberty would suffer in its very source. The principle of 
total "separation of church and state" is one that he "would be 
profoundly grieved to see violated," as he writes in his letter of April 
2, opposing the petition of the Catholic Protectory for its share of 
corporate school money. When he 'asks that the State or city make 
a grant of land not for charitable uses but for the purpose of a church 
site, he is simply calling upon the State for an endowment to propa- 
gate the tenets of that particular sect to the exclusion of all others ; 
thus, in short, constituting the Episcopal the established church of 
the nation. If his claim were allowed it would be the first grant of 
the kind ever made by the city, and he would have been responsible 
for initiating a policy which he holds to be fraught with so much 
danger to religious liberty. 

Catholics have never received, nor have they ever sought, a single 
foot of ground for their church sites from the city or State. They 
have either purchased them or received them as gifts from members 
of their own community, a policy they are quite content to pursue. 
The charge, therefore, of an attack on the first principles of religious 
liberty separation of church and state as held by Bishop Potter, 
must plainly be laid at his door, with its corollary of "conspicuous 
inconsistency." The good bishop, apparently unmindful of the vast 



1889.] NEITHER GENEROUS NOR JUST. 489. 

difference between a grant for the benefit of a particular sect, pure 
and simple, and that given to a charitable institution used for the 
common good, charges Catholics with having " fattened on municipal 
gifts and grants." 

It is hard to be forced to deal with a question so simple and clear 
year after year, as Catholics are called on to do, without losing 
patience, especially when the question is raised by one whose intelli- 
gence and position one would wish to respect Men like Dexter 
Hawkins, Clarence Cook, and Eugene Lawrence have again and 
again dragged this matter into discussion, and as often been amply 
answered in the pages of this magazine, and in the Atlantic Monthly, 
by the late lamented John R. G. Hassard, of the Tribtme. 

The charge implied in Bishop Potter's words is, first, that 
Catholics as a denomination have received more grants of public 
land ; second, more gifts of public money, than they are entitled to 
in proportion to the public services they render to the State or city, 
compared with other denominations. To both of these we have no 
hesitation in giving an absolute denial, which is sustained by the 
records. 

ist. With regard to grants of land, we have stated that we never 
received a foot of land as a grant from the city for a church site. It 
has been over and over again repeated, after as many contradictions, 
that the ground on which the Cathedral stands was the gift of the 
city. Only a few days ago this "immortal lie," as Mr. Hassard 
called it, has been revived. We deem it therefore necessary again 
to gfve the history of that property : The block of ground, now 
made two by the opening of Madison Avenue, bounded by Fifth 
Avenue, Fiftieth Street, Fourth Avenue, and Fifty- first Street, was 
conveyed by the Mayor, Aldermen, and Commonalty of the City of 
New York to Robert Sylburn, on the ist of May, 1799, for 405 
($1,012 50) and a reservation of an annual rent of four bushels of 
wheat. This rent was afterwards (in 1852) commuted by the pay- 
ment of the further sum of $83 32. 

Robert Sylburn conveyed the property to Francis Thompson by 
deed on the 2Oth of February, 1810. Francis Thompson and Thomas 
Cadle conveyed the same by deed dated March I, 1810, to Andrew 
Morris and Cornelius Heeney. Andrew Morris and Cornelius 
Heeney conveyed the same to Denis Doyle by deed dated May 
.21, 1821; but it -had in the meantime been mortgaged by Morris 
and Heeney to the Eagle Life Insurance Company of New York, 
which mortgage was foreclosed by a decree of the Vice- Chancellor 
dated September 13, 1828. Under this decree the property was 
sold by C. F. Grim, master in chancery, to Francis Cooper, by deed 



49 NEITHER GENEROUS NOR JUST. [July? 

dated November 12, 1828, for $5,500. Francis Cooper conveyed 
the property to the trustees of St. Patrick's Cathedral in the City of 
New York, and the trustees of St. Peter's Church in the City of New 
York, by deed, on the 3Oth of January, 1829, for the same that he 
gave for it, adding interest. 

The trustees of St. Peter's Church, on the I3th of September, 
1 844, assigned the property, for the benefit of their creditors, to John 
Powers and C. C. Pise. C. C. Pise, by order of the Supreme Court, 
transferred the property in October, 1851, to R. J. Bailey and J. B. 
Nicholson, Pise having resigned and Powers having died. In 1852 
there was a friendly partition suit in the Supreme Court to determine 
the interest of St. Patrick's Cathedral in the property, and it was 
decided that one-half belonged to St. Patrick's, and the other half, 
belonging to St. Peter's, was sold at public auction for the benefit of 
the creditors of that church, and was bought by the trustees of St. 
Patrick's Cathedral for $59,500. In the same year an exchange of 
gores was made between the city and St. Patrick's Cathedral, the 
city conveying a gore on the north side of Fiftieth Street, ten inches 
wide on Fifth Avenue and running to five feet six inches on Fourth 
Avenue, and the cathedral conveying to the city a similar gore on 
the north side of Fifty-first Street, commencing at a point on Fifth 
Avenue and running to four feet eight inches on Fourth Avenue. 

Thus it will be seen that the property which now belongs to the 
cathedral was first purchased in 1829, by Francis Cooper, for St. 
Peter's Church and St. Patrick's Cathedral, at a chancery sale, for 
$5,500, and that in 1852 St. Patrick's Cathedral bought the one-half 
interest of St. Peter's Church in the property at public auction for 
$59,500. This is the whole truth in regard to a matter in reference 
to which there has been so much both of innocent and wilful misrep- 
resentation. 

The very fact that the enemies of the Catholic Church have so 
persistently repeated this hoary falsehood, seeking to fasten on us 
the odium of initiating what they deem a most dangerous precedent, 
shows how anxious they are to put us in an unfavorable light before 
the public. But "it has recoiled on themselves at last. They have 
been hoist with their own petar. 

As it has never been asserted that any other of the Catholic 
church sites came from the city, this part of the subject may be dis- 
missed shall we say for ever ? We fear not. 

We might, strictly speaking, dismiss the whole question here, 
as it is only in as far as Catholics as a denomination have fattened on 
" State and city gifts and grants " that any discussion is called for. 
But it is only too evident that our Catholic charitable institutions are 



1889.] NEITHER GENEROUS NOR JUST. 491 

aimed at in the sweeping charge of Bishop Potter. Let the follow- 
ing figures be the answer. 

That the grants of land to Catholic institutions are far below what 
we should be entitled to under any pro-rata distribution is seen from 
the following list : 

DEEDS AND LEASES OF LAND TO CATHOLIC INSTITUTIONS.* 

Roman Catholic Orphan Asylum, 30 lots. 

St. Joseph's Industrial Home, 18 " 

The Foundling Asylum, 34 " 



Total 82 " 

TO PROTESTANT, HEBREW, AND OTHER INSTITUTIONS. 

The Protestant Episcopal Orphan Asylum, 12 lots. 

The Colored Orphan Asylum, 20 " 

The Baptist Ladies' Home, 10 " 

The Chapin Home, 14 " 

The Society for the Reformation of Juvenile Delinquents, 50 " 

and 36 acres. 

The Nursery and Child's Hospital, 15 lots. 

St. Luke's Hospital, 24 " 

Deaf and Dumb Institution, . '. 8 " 

The Association for the Improved Instruction of Deaf-Mutes, 12 " 

St. Philip's Church, for cemetery, 4 " 

'Hahnemann Hospital, 10 " 

The Hebrew Orphan Asylum, 17 " 

Mount Sinai Hospital, 14 

German Hospital, 18 

New York State Woman's Hospital, , . ' 32 

Total, . . 36 acres and 260 lots. 

We have here a total of eighteen charitable institutions to which 
the city has made grants of land, comprising 342 lots and 36 acres, 
and of these only three are Roman Catholic, which received in all 
82 lots. The other fifteen institutions, with only one or two unim- 
portant exceptions, are distinctly Protestant or Hebrew, and have 
received 260 lots and 36 acres. 

Secondly : 

GIFTS OF PUBLIC MONEY. 



To Catholic charitable institutions up to the year 1878, $4,661,460 
To Protestant charitable institutions to same date, . . 9,407,500 71 
To Hebrew and other charitable institutions to same date, 2,412,917 17 

* So far as Catholic institutions are concerned the figures here given include all the grants 
made to them up to the present time. The grants to Protestant, Hebrew, and other institutions 
include those made up to 1878. Whether or not these grants have been increased since that 
time, we are not at present able to say. 



49 2 NEITHER GENEROUS NOR JUST. [July*- 

It will thus be seen that Protestant institutions received within 
a given period $4,746,039 83 more than Catholics. The same 
proportion holds good for the subsequent ten years. When it 
is remembered that there are as many wards of the city cared 
for in Catholic as in Protestant institutions, the injustice of the 
charge that " Catholics have fattened on public grants and gifts" 
will be more apparent. The question may here be asked: Does 
Bishop Potter oppose the giving of public funds for support of desti- 
tute Catholic children simply because they are cared for by members 
of their own faith? If so, he differs widely from distinguished lay- 
men of the most pronounced Protestant type. 

Mr. Erastus Brooks (the same who held the famous discussion 
with Archbishop Hughes on church property), in the New York 
Constitutional Convention of 18678, where the opposite principle 
was sustained almost unanimously, said : 

" It is unworthy of taxpayers and all others to incite the fury of the State 
against any sect or party on account of its religious faith. Sectarianism cannot 
be, must not be, supported by the State, nor must it, if presented in the form of 
true charity ', be disowned by the State. If you strike at one mode of religious 
worship, you strike at all. Your blows fall everywhere, and you prostrate all 
whom they may reach. You must not suppose that asylums in New York, 
Westchester, Rochester, or Buffalo can be assailed on the score of sectarianism, 
or Romanism if you please, and Protestant institutions like the two State Houses 
of Refuge, the institutions of the deaf and dumb, the blind, the Children's* Aid 
Societies, Five Points Missions, hospitals for those of mature years and infant 
dependants, escape unscathed. All are so far Protestant as to have Protestant 
officers, Protestant boards of trustees and directors, and a general Protestant 
management and superintendence. This is true of all our main institutions, either 
criminal or for the maintenance of the poor. I have no fault to find with any of 
them ; but be careful where you strike or, like Samson, you may bring the whole 
temple at your feet, and destroy all in your zeal to prostrate those you dislike." 

These sensible and seasonable words ought to be laid to the 
heart of every Protestant whatever his position. They are so 
humane and just that not the most zealous sectarian can escape 
from the conviction they bring. In them the principle on which 
Catholics may well found their claim to their full pro rata of the 
public funds for public service is upheld. That their institutions 
render that service efficiently more efficiently than those of any 
other denomination is witnessed to by Mr. George William Curtis, 
the editor of Harper s Weekly, speaking in the same convention : 

" Unquestionably," said he, "if the State, as we have determined, is to aid 
charities, it cannot avoid, at least proportionately, helping those institutions 
which are under the care of the Roman Church. It is impossible not to recog- 
nize the fact that the charitable foundations of the Roman Church are the most 



.] NEITHER GENEROUS NOR JUST. 493 

comprehensive, the most vigorous, and the most efficient known in history. It 
is still further true, as the chairman of the committee (Mr. Brooks) has told us y 
that the great majority of those who must be relieved by State charities, in cer- 
tain sections of the State, are members of that church and will naturally fall to 
the care of that church. I cannot stop to speak of the various forms of the 
charity of that church, but it is to one of its saints that civilization owes the 
institution of the Sisters of Charity, whose benign service is known even in the 
hospitals of other denominations ; and any system which this State should adopt 
which would strike at the root of such institutions, would necessarily bring the 
State to this question, ' Are you willing to do, absolutely and to the utmost, what 
is now done by the institutions already in existence ? ' I do not believe that the 
State is willing to do it. I believe the experience of this State to be that of 
Massachusetts. Massachusetts in the year 1863 established a board of charity. 
In the very first report which that board made, after looking over the whole 
ground, they announced that in their judgment the true policy of the State was 
to give assistance to the private foundations, of whatever sect, that already existed 
rather than establish new public institutions." 

If, then, Catholics, poor as well as rich the poor out of their 
poverty, and God alone knows the full extent of their charity to 
their suffering brethren ; the rich out of their abundance, under the 
inspiration of their faith, which teaches that a cup of water given in 
Christ's name shall not go unrewarded, and that " whatsoever you do 
to the least of my little ones you do unto Me" build up institutions 
for the alleviation of every form of human misery, and contribute to 
their support with a " charity the most comprehensive known in 
history," is it Christian, is it generous, is it just to stigmatize them as 
" fattening on State and municipal grants and gifts," when they ask 
the State or city but to supplement their most efficient generosity ? 
If by thousands they give themselves to the service of Christ's poor 
of all races and creeds, gratuitously for life, as Sisters of Charity, 
Sisters of Mercy, Little Sisters, of the Poor, Christian Brothers, and 
under a hundred other humble titles, believing in Him who said, " If 
thou wouldst be perfect, go sell what thou hast and give to the poor, 
and come follow Me," is Christian chivalry so dead in our day and 
country that so much heroism is regarded as a thing to be opposed 
by all the power of the Protestant majority ? Is this the "raison d'etre 
of Protestantism "? Are we to witness, as the outcome of a century 
of progress, the second century of our history inaugurated by a cru- 
sade against defenceless women and helpless orphans ? Away with 
the thought ! It is un-American. 

JOHN M. FARLEY. 



VOL. XLIX. 32 



494 RELIGION IN SPAIN. [July, 



RELIGION IN SPAIN. * 



I. 

MANY and very valuable elements for Christian revival fortun- 
ately still remain in Spain, despite the ravages of modern unbelief. 
For reasons explained in history, the Spanish people are mistrustful 
and suspicious in regard to innovations, and they look with un- 
friendly eyes upon everything that tends to destroy their ancient 
traditions, to which they are strongly attached. If through the 
working of egotism natural to man they take up with novelties for 
the purpose of material betterment, they do not accept as readily 
those of the abstract order, which offer unknown advantages in ex- 
change for peace of conscience and consistency of character. This 
explains why Masonry, which in other countries causes so much 
injury to religion, has been, and still is, in Spain a political rather 
than a religious institution. So far as it could be made available to 
advancement to political offices, to profitable speculations on the 
stock exchange, in trade, or in the management of some special pro- 
fession, it has had a tolerable following. But when its coffers became 
empty ; when it ceased distributing assistance ; when the proselytes 
it relieved no longer needed its help, Masonry went down rapidly, 
and hid itself in the caverns of the Revolution, where are germinat- 
ing many other impious and demagogic societies, which Satan calls 
into play according to circumstances of time and place. 

The religious education of our people was founded not only on 
love for religion, but also on hatred for impiety. The chastisement 
of heretics was to our people a cause of great satisfaction and con- 
tentment In no other European country has the devil been repre- 
sented under more ridiculous and repugnant aspects. Our people 
were not urged to that hatred by the so much calumniated Inquisition, 
which, on the contrary, tried to repress it ; and if there is in the 
history of that institution anything deserving of censure, it may well 
stand comparison with the furious vagaries of the revolution. 
Hatred and an implacable abhorrence of impiety has been a char- 
acteristic trait of our people, and the basis of our moral and 
religious education. 

* This article is the sequel of "Religion in Spain," by the same author, in the May 
number. We print these articles because they are a frank and able exposition of Spanish ques- 
tions by a Spaniard, and we wish to say that he alone is responsible for the views expressed. ED. 



1889.] RELIGION IN SPAIN. 495 

The benefits of such an education can never be eulogized as much 
as they deserve ; the love of virtue is a great thing, of course, but 
still more efficacious and sure, in order not to succumb, are hatred 
and abhorrence of vice. I was fourteen years old when I entered 
the University of Madrid. The Revolution of September, 1868, had 
just taken place ; and, in consequence, the professorships had been 
numerously filled with impious professors. It fell to my lot to be 
taught by some of the worst in the classes of law, philosophy, and 
literature ; in the number were two apostate priests. Well, I 
declare, for the information of heads of families anxious to save their 
children from the contagion of unbelief, that the hatred with which 
the apostasy of those clerical professors inspired me, and the 
aversion I felt towards the impiety which led them to apostatize, pre- 
vented me from falling into their nets ; and not only was I preserved 
from their contagion, but I was besides fortified and strength- 
ened in the faith of my forefathers. Moreover, what other defence 
could a boy fourteen years old have against doctrines skilfully 
presented to seduce the intelligence of youth, against views 
preached by men of evil but tolerably brilliant repute, against 
teachers displaying a great deal of gentleness in order to gain 
partisans ? But I knew that those men were bad, that what they 
taught was detestable, and under such circumstances seduction was 
impossible. To guard myself against their doctrines I studied good 
authors ; I meditated, compared ; and the result was, as already said, 
to confirm me in truth. 

I have mentioned this personal fact because it explains the views 
I express in regard to the education of the Spanish people, and its 
value as a powerful element of Christian restoration. And what is 
the origin of that education ? According to my judgment that is 
two-fold ; and foremost are the eight centuries of warfare against the 
Moors, and the predominance of monastic teachings, the most solid 
and thorough for the education of a people. Thanks to God, the 
Spanish people, more than any other in Europe, was educated by 
monks ; and a people so educated is good, sound in doctrine, firm 
in piety, and disinclined to be led by impiety and modern re- 
volution. 

II. 

As an effect of that education, all that is valuable in Spain art, 
science, literature, monuments, institutions, manners, and even her 
language is Catholic. Our art of painting arose at the very time 
when the pagan Renaissance was displaying all its attractions in 



49 6 RELIGION IN SPAIN. [July, 

Italy. Thither went many of our great artists ; and, notwithstanding 
the seduction exercised upon a painter or a sculptor by classical 
forms, Olympic nudities, and mythological fables, the truth is that 
neither Apollos nor Venuses nor nymphs could be naturalized in 
our country; the grand Raphaelic designs, as well as the famous 
Venetian coloring, were used by our painters to represent the 
ecstasies of the saints, the labors and miracles of Jesus, and the 
ineffable beauties of the Virgin, the Queen of heaven. Olym- 
pus with its false deities was repugnant to our artists, because their 
love for the beautiful was blended with hatred for everything in a 
moral sense offensive. This example suffices to demonstrate the cor- 
rectness of the judgment above expressed in its application to the 
other branches of knowledge and culture in Spain. 

Thence it follows that the conquests of the Revolution meet with 
an unconquerable resistance everywhere; because the scholar desir- 
ous to write and speak well the Castilian language cannot avoid, no 
matter how deep in unbelief he may be, reading and studying Luis 
de Leon, Luis de Granada, St. Teresa, St. John of the Cross that 
is to say, the writings of monks and saints. The artist cannot avoid 
studying Zurbaran, the great painter of convents ; Juanes, whose 
favorite subject was the Blessed Eucharist, and Murillo, that of the 
Immaculate Virgin. The philosopher must study Suarez ; the his- 
torian, Mariana ; and the statesman, the celebrated Cardinal Cisneros. 
Catholic culture does not die ; it is the formative principle of all our 
being; and either one of two things: Spain must cease to be Spain, 
or must keep in the glorious path of her Catholic history. 

On this very account great anomalies are noticeable. Not a 
long while ago that follower of Kraus, Canalejos, now dead, deliver- 
ed in the Spanish Academy an enthusiastic encomium on the Autos 
Sacramentales of Calderon de la Barca, which are mystic theology 
in action ; and a little later the sceptic Valera, author of a preface to 
Voltaire's works, read in the same academy a no less enthusiastic 
eulogy of St. Teresa de Jesus as a writer and a saint. Unbelievers 
in Spain, if of any worth, cannot do aught but bow their heads 
before the Catholic glories of their country, which if they depreciate, 
they subject themselves to the condemnation of eminent men. Is 
not this a great element towards Christian revival ? This is so 
evident that in scientific bodies it has been noticed that the mem- 
bers most learned are strong Catholics, and that their numbers are 
daily increasing. Menendez Pelayo, of truly marvellous precocity, 
who at twenty-five years of age was a professor of the university and 
a member of all academies in Madrid, unrivalled for wisdom, and a 
subject of admiration to both his countrymen and foreigners, never 



l88 9-J RELIGION IN SPAIN. 497 

retires at night without having recited the holy Rosary. On the 
other hand, the old men who got their knowledge and ideas from 
the French Encyclopaedists are now dying out without leaving any 
successors. Out of the entire crowd of free-thinking writers now in 
Madrid, not half a dozen can be named that deserve the name of 
literary men; leaving, of course, out of the reckoning hungry 
journalists who write for money, without knowledge, conscience, or 
decency. Scientific and Christian revivals in Spain are, thanks be 
to God ! bound up together. 

III. 

Results obtained through revolution have so conduced towards 
disabusing men of its fallacies as to constitute an efficacious element 
for beneficial restoration, for many are they at the present time 
who have reaped suffering instead of enjoyment from the vaunted 
conquests of the Revolution. The people were told: " The church, 
through tithes and first-fruits, consumes the products of your labor ; 
revolution will enfranchise you from those tributes and enable 
you to enjoy all that you raise on your land." Well, revolution 
indeed did do away with those tributes, which in years of production 
only absorbed a tenth part thereof, for if there were no products 
there were no tithes. But instead, by way of change, the modern 
state has burdened production in Spain with 30 per cent, taxation 
whether the year be a plentiful one or not ; so that the tithe of ten 
per cent, has been transformed into a tax of nearly a third of the 
whole, and tribute, formerly being paternal, has now become tyran- 
nical. 

Formerly the convent's tenants used to apply to the abbot for 
assistance when they needed it, and as the wants of the convent 
were small, the peasants experienced no difficulty in getting it. Let 
the tenant of the present day go to ask assistance from his landlord ! 
Pressed by his own wants, the landlord of the present day is compelled 
to squeeze his tenant ; and as the land has but a limited production, 
the tenant is crushed between a landlord who asks more and more 
and the land which daily gives less. 

Despite the promises held forth by revolution, the condition ot 
the more numerous class of society has not improved ; and the 
palpable failure of their expectations causes the people to scornfully 
smile when the revolutionists promise them that by eating the fruit 
of the forbidden tree they will be emancipated from God's pre- 
rogatives. 

It has been very consoling to observe that in Spain of late years, 



498 RELIGION IN SPAIN. [July, 

since the restoration of monarchy thirteen years ago, many convents 
have been established, and some of the old ones rebuilt Well, in 
the villages where this has taken place, and where the old convent 
once more received its former occupants, the religious were wel- 
comed with the greatest enthusiasm ; the return of the monks was 
hailed as a new era of happiness in the district. 

"There is a wide difference," said on one occasion a peasant 
resident of a place where a convent formerly existed, " between the 
monastic landlords and lay ones who become such by taking the 
estates of the monks." Just as with individuals, when a nation begins 
to be disabused it is on a sure road to salvation ; and in Spain, pre- 
cisely because revolution has been so much in opposition to 
her past, deceptions have proved numerous and very painful. A 
Castilian proverb says : " From those warned by sad experience 
are born the wise " ; and the wise begin to be many in Spain. 



IV. 

Not alone in our country does the universal church invoke the 
favor of God upon the devout female sex ; but here, more than any- 
where else, woman is deeply and ardently Christian. Upon her 
ground modern impiety has made no progress whatever. Schools 
have been established in the hope of corrupting the heart of the 
Spanish woman ; institutions were started, under the guise of charity, 
to entice and win her to the revolutionary cause. But all in vain ; 
women,, firmer than men in this respect, have resisted seductions, 
flatteries, and appeals to their vanity; they have stood firm in 
Christian piety, deploring the weakness of their husbands and pre- 
venting as much as possible the fall of their children. We mean, of 
course, women who fulfil their duties as wives and mothers, and not 
those who disport in the swim of the grand monde, unfortunates who 
think they are beautified by the foam of the waters which are carry- 
ing them to an abyss. 

Women in our day are promoting the cause of piety more than 
ever was done by many generations of nuns during the middle ages. 
In France the work done by women for Christian revival is incal- 
culable ; and, as French fashions are daily imported in our country, 
all the good done by French women is thus added to the abundant 
performances of Spanish women themselves. There is not a congre- 
gation of religious French women, such as arise in France as 
numerous as field flowers in the spring, which does not bring out an 
immediate fruitful reproduction here. The Little Sisters of the Poor 



1889.] RELIGION IN SPAIN. 499 

came to Spain in 1865, an ^ to-day they possess not only over twenty 
splendid establishments, but, moreover, another purely Spanish con- 
gregation has been started, which has opened more than eight or ten 
asylums for the same object. The Ladies of the Sacred Heart 
possess their own establishments in nearly all of the principal cities 
of Spain ; and their schools are too small for the number of children 
flocking to them. The development of these female institutions 
started in Spain during the last ten years with these highly social 
aims in view deserves a special article, which we intend writing later 
on. But it is at home that the Spanish woman exercises her all- 
powerful influence. A great deal of harm is done to domestic hearths 
by casinos and cafes ; but, fortunately, the Spanish woman knows 
how to protect the sanctuary of the Christian family. There are still 
homes left in Spain. It is there that woman displays all her art 
of enthroning a Christian spirit in the hearts of her husband and 
children. She teaches her children to pray, and those teachings of 
childhood are never forgotten ; she keeps up the habit of asking a 
blessing and returning thanks before and after each meal ; she pre- 
sides over the recitation of the holy Rosary and the novenas to the 
patron saints of the family in its divers necessities ; finally, by 
word, prayer, and example, she maintains piety, and diffuses its 
aroma throughout the entire social body of which the family forms 
the basis. 

Here lies a great element of Christian revival, because the Revo- 
lution can avail nothing against the moral power of our women. 
The leader in our day of demagogy in Spain, Ruiz Zorilla, while a 
few years ago at the head of the government, delivered a famous 
platform speech, in which he said : " We must respect the Catholic 
religion, because it is the religion of our wives." Such a declaration 
from such lips is an eloquent testimony of the efficacious action exer- 
cised by the Spanish woman in the Catholic restoration of our 
country. 

The piety of Spanish women has been called fanatical by some 
foreign writers. Nothing could be more incorrect. In the defence 
of truth there is and can be no fanaticism, because fanaticism con- 
sists in defending with great tenacity erroneous doctrines. And 
Spanish women, though led by their southern temperament to ex- 
tremes in piety, never defend errors, but only that holy and saving 
truth, to which woman is indebted for her emancipation, and which 
alone can render man happy and nations prosperous and free. 



5oo RELIGION IN SPAIN. [July, 

V. 

We have said above that the Spanish people not only loves reli- 
gion, but also abhors impiety. This fact is proved by the civil wars 
of modern times in Spain, when formidable armies were quickly 
raised by the cry of "Long live religion ! War to liberalism ! ' No 
matter what may be said in our day, when political passions are still 
excited, the truth is that ninety per cent, of the men who took up 
arms in those wars did so under the impulse of religious rather than 
political motives. The personal cause, the monarchical right affirmed 
by Don Carlos, was of little account ; hatred towards revolution was 
the principal stimulant with his partisans. For having failed to 
apprehend this, Don Carlos ruined his cause. History, by argumen- 
tative facts, from which no appeal can be taken, proves this allega- 
tion beyond question. When, after Charles II.'s death, the Spanish 
crown was claimed on the one hand by the Bourbons, represented by 
the nephew of Louis XIV., and on the other by the Austrians, in be- 
half of the Archduke Charles, the Biscayan provinces, and Catalonia, 
Aragon and Valencia fought energetically against the Bourbons, be- 
cause the Austrians had to recommend their cause the Catholic 
traditions of Charles V. and Philip II. At a later day these same 
provinces have defended most intrepidly the Bourbon cause of Don 
Carlos. Was it on account of their love for his dynasty ? Not at 
all. It was for reasons similar to those which led them to fight 
against that dynasty in the beginning of the eighteenth century 
because his cause was opposed to liberalism, and represented old 
traditions, both Christian and Spanish. 

The history of those wars, no matter by what criterion they be 
judged, demonstrates that there exists in Spain great elements of 
resistance against revolution. The leaders of the liberal parties 
have themselves admitted on the floor of the Cortes, after the mon- 
archical restoration of Don Alfonso, that the excesses of the Revolu- 
tion, and, above all, its assaults upon the church, brought on the civil 
war, and were the incentive which led the largest number of 
soldiers to volunteer under the flag of the pretender. In fact, it 
could not be otherwise ; for every paroxysm of revolutionary evil 
has been met by a rising of that party which has ever fought against 
liberalism, though never attaining enjoyment of the delights of 
triumph. It thus happens that the elements of Christian restoration 
in Spain are to be found not only in the field of peaceful ideas and 
in the delights of home, but they also manifest themselves in arms 
on the battle-field, when combatants expose their lives in defence of 
the convictions of their souls. 



.] RELIGION IN SPAIN. 501 

VI. 

The re-establishment of the monastic orders gives evident proof 
that Christian revival in Spain is in a good way. In 1876 I went 
for the first time to France and to Rome, and one of the most 
pleasing impressions of my journey, in a religious point of view, was 
to see monks with their monastic garb in the streets of Marseilles and 
in Italian cities. In Spain I had never seen any. To-day things 
have changed in that respect. Monks go about the streets, and if it 
is true that at first they attracted the attention of people to whom 
the sight was new, they are now looked upon without wonder, and 
treated respectfully by everybody. Convents have been established 
in many dioceses, and generally they are as prosperous as they 
were in the best days of ancient piety. It is known that a large 
portion of the communities expelled from France by M. Ferry's 
government found a charitable hospitality in Spain. Many of them 
have settled in the country, which is a proof that this land of saints 
is still prolific in Christian institutions. 

The secular clergy, who are imbued with the national character 
and education, present also great elements of resistance against 
modern irreligion. The ancient theological schools of our country, 
which gave to the church in the past centuries so many illustrious 
doctors, are fortunately still open ; from them go forth eminent 
priests and bishops, as is shown in the Vatican Council, where 
Spanish theologians held such a high place. 

Spain, though so fiercely attacked by the Revolution, cannot 
perish, because to perish she must first cease being Christian. She 
keeps in her bosom powerful elements of revival, which, little by little, 
are making their way. We, speaking from a philosophic standpoint, 
have enumerated the principal ones, but there still remains to be wel- 
comed the all-important one, derived from Catholic feeling, which 
will form the conclusion of this article. 



VII. 

Some writers have called Spain the Marian nation par excellence. 
So it really is. "Devotion to the most holy Virgin constitutes a part 
of our innermost being. The invocations addressed in our land to 
the Virgin are too numerous to be recited by memory; love 
has exhausted the dictionary. Is it possible, then, that a people, 
loving Mary so strongly can ever lose its faith ? By no means ; the 



502 AN EVENING THOUGHT. '[July, 

storms of the Revolution will pass away, and the Star of the Seas 
will reappear to shine in a cloudless sky. 

Even men who profess to be unprejudiced boast of being devoted 
to the Virgin. Her scapularies and images fill every home and 
cover our breasts. Miracles through intercession of the Virgin con- 
tinually occur among our people. Upon that devotion, which goes 
on increasing instead of diminishing, is founded our strongest hope 
for Catholic revival. 

When shall we see the day of triumph ? God knows ; but mean- 
while let us follow the advice of St. Peter of Alcantara : " Let us 
reform ourselves, and thus diminish the number of those who need 
to be reformed." 

MANUEL PEREZ VILLAMIL. 

Madrid, February 15, 1889. 



AN EVENING THOUGHT. 

Now to his golden palace in the West 

Lordly Apollo, mighty King of Day, 

In his far-flaming chariot takes his way. 
One snowy cloud above yon mountain crest, 
The sunset's crimson glory on its breast, 

Floats through the realms of Twilight dim and gray ; 

And evening zephyrs round the wanderer play, 
And waft it through the gates of night to rest. 
True type, methought, of some departed soul 
Passing unharmed the realms of sin's control ; 

Still basking in the light of Jesus' face, 

Slow struggles up the way that He had trod ; 

And wafted onward by the winds of grace, 
Reposes in the bosom of its God. 

THOMAS A. DALY. 

New York City. 



1889.1 PAUL RiNcwooD: AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 503 



PAUL RINGWOOD: AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 



CHAPTER XLIV. 



A MEETING. 



IN the year '80 I was no longer a " tenderfoot," Jack never 
having been one. On the sheep-farm of Jack's friend, where we 
had put ourselves for a year's apprenticeship, the men had never 
offended Jack's ears with an application of that epithet, to Western- 
ers the epitome of all that is contemptible. I grew to be very proud 
of Jack ; there was not a man of them his equal. Strong and bold 
was Jack, good to look at, clean and pure, and healthy as the 
blessed life-giving air we breathed. If our sheep-farming was a 
success, and money and more than the respect that even money 
brings with it came to us, it was all owing to Jack's energy, his 
pluck that nothing could dash, his courage that nothing could awe; 
for, like Sir Galahad, " whose strength was as the strength of ten, 
because his heart was pure," Jack lived in awe of God alone. 

In that summer of '77, when the water failed and the sheep died 
off by scores, never for a single moment did Jack's heart fail, not a 
despondent word escaped him. And when the mountain snows 
thawed, and the freshets came, filling the arroyos to overflowing, 
Jack's first thought was to cry out to God his thanks that at 
last the poor sheep had water. No thought of the money lost 
and yet on money depended what he desired much, the taking 
Bessy Worth to wife. " Thy will be done" was no meaningless 
prayer for Jack. 

Now money did come in ; everything he touched prospered ; 
Heaven blessed his work. Men called him lucky and, wonder of 
wonders, did not envy him. Indeed, Jack was the most popular 
man in our part of the country, and when, in '78, the house for 
Bessy was built many a willing hand was put forth to help him. 
The house was not luxuriously furnished, yet in that simple place, 
when our women neighbors ten miles off wished to rate a piece of 
furniture highly they spoke of its being as good as Jack Greene's 
wife had. In the early spring of '79 Jack went to what we still 
called home to fetch a wife, leaving me in charge of the ranch. So 
in dread were we of injuring anything in the new house, we still 
lived in our adobe hut. 



504 PAUL RING WOOD: AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. [July, 

" You'll have to sleep in the new house while I'm gone," said 
Jack. 

" And ruin all Bessy's pretty things ! ' I objected. 

" No, you won't," denied Jack. " They'd get ruined if no one 
were to look after them. You'll just camp in there, Ringwood." 

Thus it was, with our boy servant to help keep things straight, I 
moved into Jack's house to wait his return. Nearly four years had 
passed since I left Cecilsburg, and I had not forgotten Elsie. When 
our affairs began to prosper I wrote her, but to no purpose. I wrote 
again, and she answered me in few words. Mrs. Hethering more 
than ever needed her care. Now the poor woman scarcely ever left 
her bed. " Paul," wrote Elsie, " do not think of me. Dear friend, 
were it possible for me to make you happy, I would. Can you not 
see the impossibility of it all ? ' 

Camping out on the plains under the sun, that is truly golden 
in this country, watching the sheep, Jack far away, tending other 
flocks, with no companion save my cigarette and the grazing ani- 
mals, could I help thinking of her ? The first year had been the 
hardest that lonely life, no one to speak to, no recreation for 
mind or body, only the everlasting herding of the sheep, the hardest 
of all possible work until one has the kink of it. Then were my 
thoughts of Elsie gloomiest, always picturing to myself a weary girl 
patiently caring for a sick and mind-lost woman. That was a bitter 
time. In the second year, particularly in the last half, when there 
was something to divert me, life became more bearable and hopeful, 
a ride on a mustang the chiefest and best of my few diversions. 

So much nonsense for and against the little Mexican horse has 
been written that a true word about the animal may not be amiss. 
It is never " jet-black," nor does it ever have "fire-darting nostrils." 
Neither is it "good for nothing but a bone-yard." It is poor to 
look at; it is small, very small. But for carrying purposes it is 
thud, thud over the golden-brown grass of the prairie ; clatter, clat- 
ter over the rough, stony road ; splash, splash through the silently 
flowing arroyo, and, once again on the level, smooth flat of the plain, 
'tis a whizz and a whirr through a stiff-blowing breeze. During 
those four years I had news several times from Philiopolis. Once 
3. letter came telling me that Bert had sold our old home. Other 
news of my brother, though I sought it, I had none. Then came a 
letter, black-edged, from Mrs. Link, announcing the death of dear 
old nurse. It seems that she failed rapidly after Bert sold our 
father's house. " She always hoped to go back there," wrote Mrs. 
Link; adding, "she has gone to a better home." And I conscien- 
tiously believe that she has. She was a good and faithful servant, 



1889.] PAUL RINGWOOD: AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 505 

living up to such light as she had. Who does more ? That chapter 
of the New Testament which tells us that " In my Father's house 
are many mansions" is well thumbed in the little book Father Wei- 
don gave me years ago. I trust there is admission to some of those 
mansions for my old nurse. She was too simple to unlearn her 
early prejudices, and too honest a soul to be cast out into exterior 
darkness. 

Jack's home-coming with his wife was the occasion of a general 
jubilee. Men and women flocked from miles about, many of the 
women bringing offerings of such simple prairie flowers as could be 
found. There was an orchestra of two fiddlers and a pair of bones. 
Unfortunately, the fiddlers knew but one, and each a different, tune, 
but the bones could play anything, so the discord was not as great 
as it might have been. The spread, as we call our banquets, was a 
noble one, and though there was not a drop of liquor, no man com- 
plained. An old toper, who went by the name of " Whiskey Bar'l," 
said : " Jack Greene's plumb right in havin' no fool boozin' round 
his wife." Poor fellow! had his environment been different he might 
never have been denominated a barrel of whiskey. This' brings me 
up again to the year '80. I was living with Jack and his wife, he and 
I were partners, and in a fair way to be called " mutton kings." 
There is a baby in the cradle, baptized Paulina Jack would have it 
so a girl baby, to the great joy of our wide neighborhood. There 
is no surplus female population in New Mexico. It was a very quiet 
baby. They said it looked like Jack ; I suppose it did. They said 
it was very fond of me, but I could perceive nothing that would lead 
any one to suppose Paulina particularly attached to Paul Ringwood. 

We led a quiet life, receiving few visits, making fewer. Once in 
a fortnight a priest from 'Vegas said Mass at a mission chapel about 
three miles from the ranch, and we all had an outing on that day. At 
long intervals some one went over to 'Vegas to make purchases of 
such household goods as were needed. Jack generally took this- on 
himself, but one night in April of '80 he said that he wished I would 
take a turn and go to the store. There was a reason for his staying 
at home, which has been crowded out of my brain by the rapid suc- 
cession of events that soon took place afterwards. I was willing, 
and it was settled that I should go on the following day, taking the 
spring-wagon and bay mare. 

" I suppose you want lots of things this time from the store," 
said Jack to Bessy, who was seated in a rocking-chair nursing Paul- 
ina. 

" I wish you'd bring a rattle for Paulina," said Bessy to me, 
blushing prettily. 



506 PAUL RINGWOOD: AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. [July, 

" What's the matter with the one I made ?" asked Jack, knock- 
ing the ashes from his pipe. 

" Oh ! it's no account, Jack," answered Bessy, pouting. " The 
peas have such a dry way of rattling. Paulina cannot bear anything 
that's not musical." 

Jack received this statement of his offspring's precocious musical 
genius without a doubt. Looking gravely at Paulina, he said in 
an aside to me: "I was always fond of music, and you know how 
Bessy can sing." 

I nodded assent to this, and then suggested that there was no use 
in taking the spring- wagon to fetch a rattle ; I could put it in my 
pocket. 

" You silly man !" exclaimed Bessy, " there are hundreds of things 
to bring. I'll make you out a list, and Candelaria our servant 
will give you hers. She's sure to want hair-grease and face-powder, 
and, Jack, she uses the red ink for rouge !" Then Bessy lapsed into 
a monologue, the burden of which was how face-painting could be a 
sin in Terra Maria and a cardinal virtue in New Mexico. Close on 
to dawn next morning I had my breakfast of sun-drief beef and 
pone, washed down by Mexican coffee, that has a peculiar scorched 
taste, bane to a " tenderfoot," nectar to the ranchero. Bessy's list in 
my pocket, a hundred injunctions from Jack in my ears, I touched the 
bay mare with my whip, and she sped lightly over the smooth prairie. 

Half the sky was a ruby red, emitting rays of gold darting 
towards the zenith, where the ruby melted into tenderest of lilac, 
and then the deep blue sky, blue as in no other clime. Presently the 
golden rays were, as to the sky, all-pervading, and the sun, a ruddy 
ball, rose glorious from a golden sea. Far as eye could reach the 
yellow grasses trembled in a softest gale, each of the myriad blades 
golden in the golden rain of light ; while black as ink against the 
gold the mountains rose in the far, far west, their snow-tops blooming 
carmine in the golden ether. When the sun was full up the red and 
gold of the sky was gone, and all day long he went his way, his path 
intensest blue, with never a cloud or semblance of one to be seen. 
But all the while the prairie did not lose its gold, nor did the gentle 
gale cease to blow. How still is a ride over the great gold prairie 
sea ! Save that now and again is heard the grazing of the sheep, the 
hoarse humming song of a shepherd, there is no_t a sound. The 
strange absence of insect-life makes the silence still more felt. To 
be sure, the red ant is there, but it is noiseless. It is well not to take 
your horse over one of their hills. Otherwise it would be the end of 
all for your horse. The red ants swarm against an intruder on their 
domain, and the hornets are trifles in comparison. 



1889.1 PAUL RINGWOOD: AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 507 

It was a long ride to 'Vegas, for again the wondrous mystery of 
the changing lights had taken place, and the moon was up before I 
reached the new town and saw the old town against the hills, on the 
other side of the fussy Gallinas, a river that never has four feet depth 
of water in its bed. The new town was a bedlam of noise the ring- 
ing bells of two foolish engines, puffing and letting off a swish of steam, 
purposelessly rumbling back and forth over the line ; the tramping 
of heavy feet over the boarded sidewalks ; harlots with hollow laugh 
bandying speech with railway-men, ranch-men, tramps, clerks, any 
one who would hearken to them ; the blare of a discordant orchestra 
in a wretched dance-hall ; the squall of a poor woman singing in a 
place of entertainment so low down in entertainment's scale as to be 
unratable ; noise and bustle in-doors and out, not unfrequent pistol- 
shots ; quiet nowhere, save in the two meeting-houses, dark and 
silent were they ever otherwise ? and in the dim-lit, squalid 
shanties called " Faro and Keno Halls." 

The railway was but a year old. It had brought the town with 
it. Six months before there was not a building where now were 
banks, meeting-houses, two daily papers, warehouses, shops, dwell- 
ings ; and it was double the size of the old town a mile away. The 
new town was in the budding stage of its existence not at all the 
pleasantest period of a railway town's growth. Possessor of a vast 
wrongful business, a vast lawful business, the railway would go on, 
and much of the wrongfulness with it. Intending to put up at the 
" Plaza House" in the old town, I took out my watch to see if I 
would be in time for supper. Eight o'clock; too late by an hour. So 
I drove up to the " Bon Ton Restaurant" (in big. letters on a trans- 
parency illuminated by a coal-oil lamp), where, in spite of its name, 
I knew I would get a good meal. After supper, feeling like taking 
a walk in the bracing night air, I hired a Mexican to drive the mare 
over to the hotel, and her deserved rest 

I was smoking a cigarette and walking leisurely along the crowd- 
ed sidewalk, curiously interested in the odd sights and sounds, when, 
as I passed the " Las Vegas Hall," where there was an entertainment 
of some kind, the calling of my name roused me from the study into 
which I had fallen. Going to the door of the bar through which one 
must pass before entering the " music-hall," I thought I must have 
made a mistake. All I could see through the thick clouds of tobacco 
smoke was a crowd of men and jaded women. Satisfied that my 
hearing had misled me, I turned to go away, when a pair of horses 
attached to a light, two-seated buggy at the sidewalk attracted my 
attention. Fond of a good horse, I walked over to take a look at 
them, for they seemed to be exceptionally fine animals. Handling 



508 PAUL RINGWOOD : AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. [July, 

the mane of the off horse, I asked a Mexican standing by if he knew 
their owner. He shrugged his shoulders, ejaculated the usual 
" Quien sabe?" and then went on to say that they belonged to " un 
Americano, muy rico" Adding, still in Spanish, " If I had what he 
has in his pocket now, I'd do no more work." He did not look like 
a man who would work very hard, and I smiled. I was so occupied 
with the horses that I did not perceive two men coming from the bar 
that gratuitously shed its bright light on the sidewalk. The men 
advanced towards the buggy, and my attention was called to them 
by an effeminate voice exclaiming: 

" I'll be spun into spider's webs if there's not Elsie's Rizzio !" 
A quick turn about, and I was facing Tom Hethering and my 
brother Bert ! 



CHAPTER XLV. 
FIRST LINKS IN A CHAIN. 

I stared at them, feeling at white heat. Bert hiccoughed and 
smiled. Hethering, much less drunk than my brother, had been 
considerably sobered by the words he uttered. He was not a brave 
man, and " roughing it ' had developed my muscle. Perhaps it was 
the ugly anger in my face that made him grasp Bert's arm. We 
stood in this way, staring at one another, when the thought came to 
me that I could not brawl there, so I made a move to go away. 
Seeing this, Hethering's eyes twinkled with a devilish sort of merri- 
ment, and coming^ towards me, he said : " You were right not to 
marry that ' 

I cried out in my rage, and struck him, felling him to the 
ground. 

They surged out of the bar-rooms from up and from down the 
street, a mob of men crowding about him on the, ground, and me 
standing over him. For a moment I thought he had struck his 
head in falling, and that he was dead ; but it was only for a mo- 
ment. Two men had raised him by the shoulders, and he gazed 
stupidly about him, blood streaming from his nose. Clinging to 
his supporters, he got to his feet and sprang into the buggy, calling 
on Bert to follow him. The crowd murmured that there was to be 
no fight. Bert whipped up the horses readily enough to a trot, and 
the buggy was soon lost in the gloom of the old town road. Some 
of the men crowded about and plied me with questions as to the 
cause of the " row." Befogged as I was, I would have found it 
hard to put them off, had not a shrill feminine scream announced 



1889.] PAUL RING WOODS AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 509 

that a fresh disturbance had arisen, this time in the music-hall. With 
the usual fickleness of a crowd, the men surged back into the bar- 
room, as a few moments before they had surged out. 

I hurried to get away to the prairie, where I would be alone. 
Never did I so welcome a light as I did the dim, red lamp of the 
" Lone Star " saloon, that then marked the new town's limits. The 
sight of Hethering's buggy and horses standing before the saloon 
entrance made me hurry on the faster. For a long time I wander- 
ed aimlessly about the prairie ; not thinking connectedly, that was 
beyond me; not wondering how it was that Hethering and my 
brother were in Las Vegas I was not curious to know ; only 
striving to dull the pain that made my heart ache pain for the 
insult offered to Elsie. Thank God ! I had no thought of punishing 
Hethering, or wishing his death. And yet I longed for the right to 
defend his sister. It had been such a length of time how long the 
years were, looking back, and would those to come be shorter ? 
since I had heard of her. She might be dead for aught I knew. 
The thought threw me into a panic. I must get to the hotel ; that 
very night I would write to Father Clare for news of Elsie. 

Hurrying across the field to gain the highway, its being almost 
light as day did not prevent my stumbling against a low tent pitched 
just off the prairie road. Growling, a watch-dog sprang forward and 
would have seized me had not the owner of the tent grasped him 
by the scruff of the neck. In the moonlight I recognized the man 
holding the dog to be a young Dane with whom I had had survey- 
ing business. 

" Is it you, Landsman ! " he exclaimed, letting loose the dog, 
now satisfied I was a friend. " I'm on a surveying party to the 
Cerillos," he went on to say; "I camp out for quiet; the others are 
in town." 

When I had told him that I was on my way to the old town and 
had gotten out of the track, he expressed a sleepy surprise, and I 
went on my way. Not many paces, though, when he called out for 
the time of night if I had it. Examining my watch, I was surprised 
that it wanted but a second to half-past ten. 

" Half-past ten, Hendrik," I called back. 

"Good-night, Landsman." And I heard the opening of the 
canvas tent flap to as the Dane entered it to sleep. When I 
reached the foot-bridge crossing the Gallinas I paused a moment to 
gaze on the convent on the stream's bank, half a mile away, gleam- 
ing whitely in the moonlight. How I envied its peaceful inmates ! 

Again I went on my way, glancing absently at the shallow Gal- 
linas. Not absently did I look a second time at the water. Some- 
VOL. XLIX. 33 



510 PAUL RINGWOOD : AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. [July, 

thing black lay half in the stream, half on its shore. Looking closer, 
I saw that what lay on land was a pair of trousered legs. My first 
thought was that a drunken man had fallen into the stream and had 
been unable to get himself out. My second, that he might have life 
in him still, was followed by my getting quickly to the water-side 
and hauling the man out by his legs. 

There he lay before me, a cruel hole in his forehead, his eyes 
staring upward at the moon they would never see again, the bridge 
of his nose deeply scarred where I struck him. There he lay, power- 
less for further hurt, the man who had spoiled Elsie's life. There he 
lay, dead, gone to his Maker God help him ! for he was empty- 
handed. There he lay, the man I had hated and loathed, and I was 
afraid in his powerless presence, and full of sorrow for him. 

Had it been in my power, poor man ! I would have undone his 
violent ending. No thought of how that ending had been brought 
about came to me then. I wondered if Bert had gone off for help to 
move the body. 

. A sickening dread now came over me that Bert, too, had been 
murdered, and I searched about in every likely spot, finding no trace 
of him. But in my search I came across a pistol, which I pocketed, 
intending to give it into the hands of an officer, of the law. I waited 
no longer, but hurried to the nearest house, the dwelling of a Lawyer 
Bell. The lawyer came half-dressed to me waiting in his office, and 
very much astonished he was at my news. 

" Somewhere about nine," he said, " I heard a shot ; shots are so 
common I paid no attention to it ; and that reminds me, shortly 
after a vehicle of some kind dashed by like mad." 

" I found this," I said, taking out the pistol I had picked up by 
the water-side. 

We examined it by the light of a lamp. A handsomely mounted 
pistol, on its silver-plated handle was engraved a crest, an oak 
branch from which hung a ring. On the little finger of my left 
hand I wore a seal-ring bearing the same crest. Unperceived by 
the lawyer I slipped the ring into my trousers' pocket. No clue was 
needed for me to discover the murderer. In a flash I understood it 
all. My brother and Hethering had quarrelled, and Elbert had 
killed him. My brain was racked to find ways of preventing this 
knowledge from coming to others. I was bitter against myself for 
my folly at not seeing before how the murder must have been done. 
And now I had put into a lawyer's hands a witness against my 
brother. 

" We must call the coroner," said the lawyer, " he lives close 
by." 



1889.] PAUL RINGWOOD : AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 511 

An hour after we went, a melancholy procession, through the 
plaza to the Plaza House, where we carried the body of Hethering. 
That night I was unfortunate enough to lose my ring. It was found 
next day at the water-side and put in charge of the officer who 
had care of the pistol. 



CHAPTER XLVI. 
THE INQUEST. 

It was no letter of entreaty for news of Elsie Hethering that I 
sat down at two o'clock in the morning to write Father Clare, but 
one telling him of the murder of Elsie's brother. I did not ask him 
to communicate this intelligence to her, feeling sure that he would. 
Without undressing, I threw myself on a lounge, sleeping restlessly 
till six. Not that I was anxious about my mail, but because I was 
uneasy in my mind and must be about something. I left the hotel, 
as soon as my breakfast was finished, to go to the post-office. I 
was scarcely in the street when I wished myself back in the hotel, 
safe from the eager questioning that assailed me on every side. I 
had found the body ; I would be the most important witness at the 
inquest ; it was a matter of course that I be expected to satisfy the 
curiosity of the public. 

It was only by representing that I was in a hurry to get my mail 
that I succeeded in freeing myself from my inquisitors, only to feel 
my heart sink when I saw the crowd about the post-office. The 
crowd, however, was too much occupied in reading and discussing the 
Las Vegas Journal and the Eye to trouble itself about me. As the 
post-office was not yet open, I bought an Eye and sat down on an 
empty dry-goods box to read it. I dreaded to do so, fearing to find 
my brother was the murderer in public opinion. On the night 
before, and on that morning, I must have heard much about Hether- 
ing's speculations in mining shares, and that these speculations had 
brought him out to New Mexico, for when I read in the Eye an ac- 
count of these things it did not strike me that I was learning any- 
thing new. 

According to the newspaper, which at the same time spoke of 
him as a " large-minded, liberal-handed gentleman," Hethering had 
succeeded in selling his share in a certain gold mine for a fabulous 
sum. This was on the day of the murder. The Eye then spoke of 
the mysterious disappearance of Elbert Ringwood, ' ' perhaps struck 
down by the same dastard hand that extinguished the vital spark in the 
bosom of our liberal townsman, Thomas Balls Hethering." The Eye 



512 PAUL RINGWOOD : AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. [July, 

wondered could " the constant companion of the assassinated, Elbert 
Ringwood, be a kinsman of the sheep-king, Paul Ringwood, whose 
elegant and hospitable ranch is so well known to our readers." My 
encounter with Hethering outside the Las Vegas Hall was narrated. 
With newspaper facility for getting things wrong, it stated that I had 
been attacked and wounded by Hethering, adding poetically, 
" Hethering's libations had been liberal in the golden essence of the 
Indian's golden maize." I read the whole of the florid description 
of the finding of the body, even finding myself amused by the mani- 
fold inaccuracies in the account. I only put away the newspaper 
when I heard a man call out, as if announcing the coming of a new 
inhabitant into this vale of tears, "The mail's being delivered." 
There were a number of letters for Jack and his wife, a few business 
ones for myself, together with one from Father Clare. This last I 
opened where I stood. Short as it was, I hurried over it, all but the 
last paragraph, which I read a second time. 

" Mrs. Hethering," it said, " died about a week ago, after a long 
and painful rllness. She had been well cared for all these years by 
Elsie Hethering. But this long confinement to a sick-room has told 
on Elsie. She is ill. However, Doctor Stancy is very hopeful. 
The money you charged me to use for her needs comes in very 
handy just now. She fancies it is a payment made her for embroid- 
ery work of hers. She has asked about you, and is much pleased 
that you prosper. Paul, is it possible for you to come on to Cecils- 
burg ?" 

I did not debate the matter. I simply said to myself: " Elsie is 
ill, perhaps dying; I may be able to save her. There is a train for the 
East at seven o'clock this evening." There were Bessy's commissions 
to be attended to, the mare and wagon to get back to the ranch. 
After the inquest I would make the purchases, and would send them 
home with the mare and wagon in charge of a Mexican whom I knew 
to be trustworthy. Whatever faults he may have, a Mexican is 
almost always honest. At the same time I would send a letter to 
Jack stating there was urgent call for me to go to Cecilsburg im- 
mediately. 

The inquest was to be held at eight o'clock, and it wanted but 
a few minutes of the time. I hurried into the church opposite the 
post-office, knelt for a few moments in the Presence, and then followed 
the crowd making for the Plaza House. The body was laid on a 
table at the end of a long room used for dancing. As I took a chair 
by Lawyer Bell I wondered if any one who looked on that ghastly 
sight could ever have the heart to dance in that room. A man 
stood by it with a feather duster to brush away the flies. There 



1 889. J PA UL RING WOOD : AN A UTOBIOGRAPH r. 513 

were but two, and they were not persistent in their efforts to get to 
the body. Taking this in at a hasty glance, I turned my eyes away, 
and did not look there again. The jury sat on a long bench beside 
the table. They made me think of their ancestors about to take part 
in one of their cannibal feasts after a sacrifice. The coroner, al- 
ready in his chair, was an American who had gained much notoriety 
from the fact that he could drink more whiskey than any other man 
in the Territory. 

All the proceedings in a New Mexican court are carried on in 
English, a language scarcely ever known to the jury, as it was not 
known to the jury before me. There is an interpreter, and it is 
wonderful in how few words he interprets for the jury's benefit the 
longest of a lawyer's periods. Several witnesses, who had very little 
to tell, were given a perfunctory hearing ; the pistol I had found was 
examined and joked about. In like manner, to my dismay, my 
ring was passed from juror to juror, no one seeing any connection 
between it and the pistol. My examination began by the coroner 
saying: " Now, Mr. Ringwood, see if you can throw any light on the 
subject ; them fellers who've just had the floor an't enlightened the 
jury much." 

I was about to speak, when a smooth-faced, middle-aged man 
rose and said, addressing the coroner : " I am a lawyer from Santa 
Fe ; the deceased and I were friends ; may I put a question to Mr. 
Ringwood ? ' 

" I don't know 's it's accordin' to rule, but I reckon you can fire 
away," returned the coroner, as he put his head and half of his body 
under the table before which he sat. When his head reappeared he 
winked at the jury and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. 
It was not till the hoarse murmur of laughter that ran around the 
room had subsided that the lawyer from Santa Fe said, bowing 
slightly to me : "I beg your pardon, Mr. Ringwood my name is 
Durke but were you long acquainted with the deceased ? ' 

Hesitating a moment, I said: " My acquaintance with Mr. 
Hethering was slight"; adding abruptly, irritated by the man's im- 
pertinence, "After the inquest, Mr. Durke, I will speak with you." 

" Just so ! " ejaculated the lawyer, seating himself, and not again 
speaking during the pretence of holding an inquest. 

Word for word, as I was asked it, I told of my encounter with 
Hethering, of my having taken a walk, my finding of the body. 
More than once during my narrative the coroner's head had dis- 
appeared under the table. When I had finished he turned to the 
interpreter and asked : " Have them dead-beats "the jury "got in 
all the information ? ' 



514 .PAUL RINGWOOD : AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. [July, 

Informed that they had, he demanded what they had to say. 
They said what they had come into the room with their minds made 
up to say: " Murdered by some party or parties unknown." 

" Considerin' the verdicters, 'tan't a bad verdic', " said the cor- 
oner cheerfully. " We're all infernal dry ; let's adjourn, an' see af- 
terwards about boxing the corpse." 

The greater part of the crowd went out of the room with the 
coroner, leaving me almost alone with Lawyer Bell. I looked about 
for the gentleman from Santa Fe, but he was nowhere to be seen. 

Lawyer Bell broke out into a tirade against what he called the 
shameful indecency of the morning's proceedings, and when I left 
him he was crying out against the folly of English speech for 
Spanish ears. 

With a comparatively light heart, for I believed Elbert to be out 
of danger, I made the purchases for Bessy, not forgetting Paulina's 
rattle, packed them in the wagon, wrote my letter to Jack, and put 
all in charge of Pilar Abieta to drive home to the ranch. This 
work took the greater part of the day left me after the inquest, and 
it was almost dark when I entered the warehouse of Monzanares to 
buy myself a travelling bag with some things needful for my journey. 

I had but ten minutes left in which to swallow a cup of coffee at 
the " Bon Ton " and purchase my travelling ticket. The engine-bell 
was ringing, there was a great letting-off of steam, there was all the 
useless racket an American train makes preparatory to starting, as I 
put my foot on the steps of a car to board it. At that moment a 
hand was laid on my arm, and turning, I saw it was Durke, the 
Santa Fe lawyer. 

" Unless you are going on the train," I said, " we have no time 
for conversation." 

As I spoke, I noticed that a young Mexican whom I knew to be 
town constable was standing on the platform admiring the engine. 

" I am afraid," said Durke smoothly, " I will have to ask you to 
postpone your trip." 

The brakesman and conductor were shouting " All aboard," and 
I had to shout as well to make myself heard. What I shouted was 
not pacific. I asked him if he were drunk or mad. 

He did not shout in return, but in his smooth voice he said, and 
I had no difficulty in hearing him : "I have an officer here with a war- 
rant to arrest you for the murder of Thomas Hethering." 

I uttered a loud cry, and would have fallen under the wheels of 
the now moving train had he not caught and pulled me onto the 
platform. Leaning heavily against Durke, I gasped like a drowning 
man. He poured some brandy down my throat from a pocket-flask 



1889.] PAUL RINGWOOD .- AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 515 

he carried. When I stood erect, somewhat recovered from the 
shock I had received, I noticed that he was very white. He too 
drank of the brandy, then said persuasively : " I have a carriage 
waiting. Shall we go to it ? ' 



CHAPTER XLVII. 
THE JAIL. 

In the bustle of the leaving train I was able to reach the hack in 
waiting unnoticed by the people on the platform. The constable 
jumped up beside the driver, Durke and I taking the inside seats, 
and the hack jolted over the uneven road to the make-shift of a jail. 
Little was said by either of us on the way. I expressed my opinion 
that he took much interest in the murder. 

" Mr. Hethering's wife widow, rather " returned Durke, " is a 
sister of mine. She is out at the Hot Springs " He paused, as if 
he remembered that he was saying more than he should say. After 
a moment he asked me was there anything he cpuld do for me when 
we got to the jail. 

" No," I said, " there is nothing." 

The cell I was put into was one of a number of low rooms sepa- 
rated by an iron grating from a stone-flagged courtyard. The other 
cells were empty, and, save for two turnkeys who sat on the flag- 
stones playing " capas " in the moonlight, I spent the night alone. 
My cell was without light, and though I groped about to find it, I 
could discover nothing on which to sit or lie down. In the morning 
I found the cell was bare of furniture. Seating myself on the stone 
floor, leaning against the grating, I spent the first part of the night 
wretchedly enough. Scarcely realizing the danger I was in, my 
mind would wander to Elsie ; then I would find myself eagerly 
watching the game of cards played by the turnkeys. 

After a while I began to burn with thirst, and I called on the 
card-players to fetch me drink. They went on with their game, one 
of them laughing at my demand. The thirst became unbearable ; 
beside myself, I called loudly for water. The turnkeys stopped their 
game to angrily threaten me with the " cooler." I knew from hear- 
say that the " cooler " was an underground cell where unmanageable 
drunkards were put. Their threat did not frighten me, my thirst 
did. Illness, I had read, began with just such a thirst. I continued 
to beg for water, saying I was not drunk, only dying from thirst. 

" En maiiana, en manana" one said, impatiently returning to his 
game. 



516 PAUL RINGWOOD : AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. [July, 

At last the offer of a peso induced him to bring me a pottery jar 
holding about a quart of water. I drank the water down almost at 
a draught. Then to my surprise the turnkey handed back my 
dollar and went to hold a consultation with his companion. They 
left the courtyard for a moment, and when they returned they 
brought with them a bag of corn-husks and a blanket, which they 
put in my cell. 

" Sleep," one told me, whilst the other brought me more water, 
some of which I used to bathe my head. Again I offered them 
money, again they refused. I blessed them for their goodness, and 
stretched myself on the miserable couch. After what seemed a 
long while I fell asleep, and when I awoke the sun was streaming 
into the courtyard and Lawyer Bell was standing by my side. A 
mistake had been made in lodging me, and through Lawyer Bell, 
who scolded every one alternately in English and Spanish, I was 
now put into a decent room. 

The lawyer assured me of his belief in my innocence, telling me 
that it was generally believed Hethering had been murdered by his 
companion, Elbert Ringwood, either in a drunken quarrel or for the 
sake of the money Hethering had on him payment for a claim in 
the diggings. It appeared to trouble Bell that I did not agree with 
him in his solution of the murder, for he spent at least five minutes 
pacing the room lost in thought. 

Pausing abruptly before me he asked : " Is Elbert Ringwood 
any kin to you ? ' 

" Before I answer that question, tell me my answer is not to be 
repeated," I temporized. 

" Certainly not," Bell answered. " I'm your lawyer if they are 
fools enough to bring you to trial." 

Thanking him for the interest he showed in me, I said : " Elbert 
Ringwood is my twin brother." 

" I'm sorry for it," returned Bell ; " God knows, I pity you, for 
he is the murderer ! 

I tried to laugh away his belief, a belief that was mine. Perhaps 
what I said was too palpably insincere (though Elbert was my 
brother, I was craving to be a free man, that I might see Elsie be- 
fore she died). At any rate, I failed to shake Bell's belief in Elbert's 
guilt. 

" Do you mean to say you are willing to be hanged in order to 
save him?' he asked. "Remember, I am not alone in my belief." 

I answered nothing to this, but before the lawyer left me, I suc- 
ceeded in getting a promise from him to do nothing yet a while that 
would lead to the arrest of Elbert. Three weeks after I had been 



1889.] PAUL RINGWOOD : AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 517 

remanded by the alcalde to the county prison at Las Vegas my 
trial took place. During this time the fathers at the college 
showed me much kindness, providing me with books and procuring 
me tobacco. I have heard and read much against what is some- 
times called the noxious weed. Many a time during those three 
weeks I did humbly thank God for his gift, and I feel sure I was 
never the worse for using it. I could not bring myself to write to 
Father Clare, so keenly did I feel the disgrace of being in jail. One 
of the fathers wrote for me, and his doing so brought me a letter 
from Father Clare, full of consolation, bidding me hope. And in 
spite of a feeling in my heart that would not let me hope, the 
thought of God's goodness and justice did console me. His letter 
contained one great piece of news ; as the summer approached there 
had been a manifest improvement in Elsie's health. 

Jack and Bessy were now living at the Plaza House, and Jack 
was with me the greater part of the time. Strong in her belief of the 
consoling influence of the baby's presence, Bessy brought Paulina 
every day to visit me. I do not think Bessy realized my desperate 
situation till on an occasion she perceived that I was paying no at- 
tention to a long narrative about Paulina. Jack told me afterwards 
that she had said to him: "Paul's in awful misery, you needn't tell 
me ! He doesn't care to hear about Paulina." Lawyer Bell kept me 
informed of what he was doing for my defence. He did not inform 
me that he was searching for my brother Elbert. It was little 
enough he could do. Everything seemed against me. Public opinion, 
that had been settling on Elbert as the criminal, turned against me 
as soon as it was known that I had been arrested. The woman 
the law called Hethering's widow was moving heaven and earth to 
bring me to the gallows. On the evening before the trial Lawyer 
Bell said to me: "The chain of circumstantial evidence against you 
wants but one link. The money Hethering had on him has disap- 
peared. Where is it ? ' 

" I might have sent it to Jack Greene," I said, trying with little 

success to laugh. 

Bell stared at me, and then bidding me sleep well if I could, left 

me for the night. 

When I heard that Judge Margravine was to sit on the bench at 
my trial it gave me some hope. Even this hope was taken from 
me. " It is so much the worse for you that he is a just man," said 
Bell. " Too many murderers have been let go scot free of late, and 
Margravine is for hanging the next one brought to trial. He says 
an example is needed, and if he believes you guilty, his charge to 
the jury will be to make an example of you. And," the lawyer 




518 PAUL RING WOOD .- AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY, [July, 

added sadly, " I'm afraid your religion won't be much in your favor ; 
that, too, because he is honest in his." This night before the day of 
my trial and judgment I tried to read my Testament, and failed. I 
tried to pray, and all I could pray, repeating it over and over, was, 
" God's will be done, God's will be done." And it was his blessed 
will that shortly before midnight I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep, 
that rested me much. 



CHAPTER XLVIII. 



JUSTICE. 

The court-room in which, my trial took place was simply the 
ground-floor of an adobe building some thirty feet long by twenty 
wide. The windows there were six were so badly contrived for the 
admission of light as to make it necessary to keep the coal-oil lamps 
hanging from the blackened beams burning all the day. Benches 
were packed close together to give as much sitting room as possible, 
and this morning there was not a vacant place. The western end 
of the room was separated from what might be called the auditorium 
by a rope stretched from wall to wall. Behind a square table on a 
raised platform was the judge's chair. Hanging by a tape from the 
judge's table was a penwiper, a cat cut out of cloth, with white but- 
tons for eyes. It was very odd-looking. Beneath the platform were 
seated the lawyers at a long table supplied with writing materials. 
A chair was placed for me opposite the jury seated on a bench 
against the south wall. Jack Greene was allowed a chair by my 
side. I was scarcely seated when Lawyer Durke entered, arm-in- 
arm with a woman in deep mourning. A moment before there had 
been a deep hum of voices ; at their entrance a perfect silence, 
succeeded by a clamor of tongues that made the cries of " Order" 
and the rapping of the judge's gavel unheard. From the moment 
of this woman's entrance I noticed Lawyer Bell was trying to 
conceal a feeling of uneasiness. A slip of paper on which he had 
been writing was handed me, and I read : " She is the widow. 
Does she know anything about you ?" On the back of the same 
slip of paper I wrote : " I do not know her ; she does not know me." 
Watching the effect of my communication, I saw the lawyer's face 
crossed by a doubtful smile. Again he wrote, and I read : " In- 
decent curiosity, perhaps ?" 

For whatever reason she had come, the rope was let down to 
permit her to pass, and, at a whisper from Durke, some one ran to 
fetch a cushioned arm-chair, which was placed for the widow but a 



1889.] PAUL RINGWOOD: AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY'. 519 

few paces from my side. It jarred me to have her there, and when 
she threw back her long crape veil and stared me in the face I felt 
myself painfully blushing. She was of a florid brunette type, and, so 
I have heard, had the reputation of being a beauty. While she 
stared at me the crowd of people stared at us. While they stared 
she half hid her face in a handkerchief, whispering to Durke. I 
suppose she was asking to have her chair removed, for it was put at 
the opposite side of the judge's platform, the lady visibly shuddering 
as she passed me to go and occupy it, drawing her garments close 
about her that they might not come in contact with me. This piece 
of by-play did not raise me in the esteem of the jury and onlookers. 

The opening speeches of the prosecuting attorney and Lawyer 
Bell were short that of the prosecuting attorney but an epitome 
of the case, that of Lawyer Bell a vain promising of evidence that 
was to convince judge and jury of my innocence. For a moment he 
buoyed me up with the hope that he had evidence of which I knew 
nothing ; a moment after the hope left me, and I wondered of what 
avail could be his unveracity. The first witnesses were men who 
had been present when I and Hethering quarrelled. According to 
these witnesses, I had struck Hethering without provocation. No 
doubt they said what they believed to be the truth, for what had 
passed between Hethering and myself that night could hardly have 
been known to them. The prosecuting attorney now kept the 
promise he had made, that he would prove the truth of what I my- 
self had told, that on the night of the murder I had been wander- 
ing near the place where Hethering met his death. From a corner 
where he had sat unnoticed by me till now came Hendrik the Dane. 
The poor fellow was woefully distressed, and when he had taken the 
stand threw out his hands with a gesture of expostulation, exclaim- 
ing, " God knoweth, Landsman, I have no wish to injure you ! ' 

Rap ! rap ! went the gavel. " You must not address the pris- 
oner," reprehended the judge. 

Hendrik told of my being on the prairie, and how it was he knew 
so exactly the time of my being there. When the Dane had given 
in his testimony the prosecuting attorney turned with a smile to 
Lawyer Bell, and asked did he wish to cross-examine the witness. 
Lawyer Bell had one question to put : Had the prisoner any appear- 
ance of agitation on the night on which Mr. Hendrik had conversed 
with him ? 

"No; he looked tired and worried," was the truthful answer. 

" You'll burn your mouth with that pudding, Brother Bell," re- 
marked the prosecuting attorney. .Then, amidst a general titter, 
Hendrik went back to his place. 



520 PAUL RiNGWooD: AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. [July, 

Witnesses proved that on the night of the murder Hethering had 
with him a large sum of money, and this money was gone. The 
pistol I had found, and the ring I had lost, were now exhibited. The 
ring was proven to be mine, not a difficult thing to do, for I had 
used it to seal my letters. Attention was called to the fact that it 
bore the same crest as that of the pistol. 

Thus stood the case for the prosecution when Lawyer Bell 
brought forward the witnesses for the defence. In the annals of 
courts was there ever so lame a one ? A priest, a number of mer- 
chants, and Jack, to prove me to be of a peaceable disposition, of 
well-known integrity. They spoke well, and were allowed to speak 
at length. But I think they only impressed the people with an idea 
that I was a consummate hypocrite. It was long after mid-day, and 
the court adjourned till three. Judge and lawyers, Durke and the 
widow, went out to dine, the crowd of people going out to swarm 
about the plaza and drink whiskey. Jack brought some dinner to me 
in the almost deserted court-room. Lawyer Bell had left us, and I 
told Jack I believed that he could do nothing for me. Jack was 
very hopeful. " Believe me, as I'm a sinner," he said, "Bell's got 
the trump card. Now do try to eat something; Bessy saw to the 
dinner herself." 

I tried to do as Jack bade me, but succeeded poorly. One con- 
solation I had. There were a great number of cases on the docket, 
and they would try to finish with mine that night. I had not given 
up hope, for I caught myself thinking of what I would do when once 
more a free man, and it rushed on me that Heaven would not let me 
die for a crime of which I was innocent. The time dragged. Glad 
indeed was I when the judge and his court were again seated, and 
the prosecuting attorney stood up to make his speech. Truth 
compels me to state that it was a most damning speech, and as the 
widow listened she would often break into sobs. 

"Gentlemen of the jury," said the attorney, "the prisoner at 
the bar is well known to the citizens of this flourishing city of the 
fields. He is well known to many * of you. Gentlemen of unim- 
peachable veracity have testified to the integrity of his life from 
the time he came to this glorious Territory of ours to the night 
he foully did Thomas Hethering to death. But who knows of his 
life before he came among us with his hypocritical meekness, his 
dastardly spirit hidden beneath the beauteous cloak of religion ? 
Who knows the former life of the man who could not take a friendly 
glass, or a hand in a pleasant game ? Who knows ? ' 

He paused, then, pointing to the widow, he continued in a low 
voice : " Ask yonder weeping lady who this libertine is ! ' His 



1889.] PAUL RINGWOOD : AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 521 

voice rose higher. " Ask her about his murdered victim's sister 

but she will not tell you ; she pities her fallen sister ; she would not 
have the name of Thomas Hethering's sister a by-word in the mouths 
of men. He a man of integrity ! Is that the face of an honest man ? 
Is his not the face of a violator of families, of a secret assassin ? " 

Surely he was stretching license of speech to its utmost. But 
well might they look at me. I felt myself white ; I could scarcely 
control my voice that struggled to cry out against his slanders, and 
my heart was wrung with praying to Go'd to spare Elsie's good 
name. Why had she been attacked ? They did look at me ; they 
stood on tiptoe to look at me. Men cursed me, and amongst that 
lawless crowd my life would not have been worth a song. Jack 
stood by me, holding my hand in his, whispering soothing words he 
might have used to still a troubled child. When they had subsided 
into their seats amidst a silence that appalled me the attorney con- 
tinued : 

" And, with a wonderful charity, Thomas Hethering let this man 
go unharmed. Time passed, and Mr. Hethering married yonder 
heart-broken lady, whose future the prisoner at the bar has wrecked. 
They were happy, these two ; Thomas Hethering in the calm love of 
a man who has been tried in tribulation, Nancy Hethering in her 
first love. Was it envy of their happiness or greed for Thomas 
Hethering's hard-earned gold that guided this glistening toy that 
woeful night ? ' He melodramatically waved Elbert's pistol in the 
eyes of the jury. 

" Gentlemen of the jury, we shall never know. You have heard of 
the attack, the unprovoked attack, remember, made by the prisoner 
on his victim in the principal street of your new town, that has 
sprung up, as it were, at the behest of a magician. Hethering is 
struck down, but the prisoner slinks away ; it is too public a place for 
murder. It is a dastardly deed, and vainly he resolves it shall be 
wrapped in secrecy. The carriage carrying the unconscious victim 
and his friend rattles down the moonlit street. A shadow follows it 
with stealthy, running gait. There is no struggle by the river-side. 
A shot is fired, and Thomas Hethering's tenement of clay, bereft of 
the vital spark, falls partly in the water, partly on the land. This 
the prisoner himself has said, and who should know better ? Let 
me pause a moment. Has it not struck your enlightened intelligence 
that it is strange that nothing has been said of the disappearance of 
Mr. Hethering's friend, together with his carriage and horses ? Who 
is this friend of Thomas Hethering ? He is Elbert Ringwood, own 
brother to the prisoner at the bar !" 

An audible breath of suspense was drawn by the crowd. 



522 PAUL RINGWOOD : AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. [July, 

" He is in hiding that he may not be called on to slip the noose 
about his brother's neck. Was there a shadow of a doubt as to your 
verdict, gentlemen of the jury, Elbert Ringwood would have been 
summoned to testify before you to-day." 

Was this a lawyer's quibble, I thought, or did he really know 
Elbert's whereabouts ? I strove to read Lawyer Bell's opinion in his 
face, but it told me nothing. 

" And now the deed is done, his murderer in a panic thinks only 
of flight across the prairie. But the sense of the folly of such a pro- 
ceeding comes to him when not far from the town. He hurries to 
retrace his steps, how blindly and distractedly Mr. Hendrik has 
told us. And what an unwilling witness against the prisoner Mr. 
Hendrik was ! He stumbles against Mr. Hendrik's tent. (This on 
a night light enough for him to take unerring aim at Hethering.) 
Mr. Hendrik is roused from his sleep, surprised to see the prisoner, 
as well he might be, at that hour of the night in such a lonely spot. 
The prisoner tells some cock-and-bull story about his having lost his 
way. Lost his way on a night so like day that he could by the light 
of the moon give Mr. Hendrik the time of night by his watch ! He 
says nothing at the inquest about having lost his way. He was out 
for a moonlight ramble. That day he had ridden thirty miles. Do 
men go out for moonlight walks after such a day's ride? Common 
sense reverberates in our ears a stentorian No ! The prisoner 
now thinks to make the grand discovery of the body. This discov- 
ery is to throw off suspicion from him. The body is discovered. 
Hethering's gold in his pockets, his hands, as the poet says, ' smeared 
with gore,' the prisoner goes to rouse Lawyer Bell, who, I am sure, 
wishes himself well out of the sorry job of defending his client. 
Now the prisoner commits a fatal mistake. He hands over to the 
law in the person of Lawyer Bell his pistol, which he says he found 
by the water-side. Next day a ring was found close to the locality 
of the murder. You have seen the ring and pistol. There is nothing 
in that? Oh, no, nothing at all ! Only enough to hang the prisoner 
at the bar if every other link in the heavy chain of evidence against 
him were missing. Ring and pistol have the same peculiar mark, 
the crest of the Ringwoods. They claim a noble descent, and wear 
a crest like any family in this free country of ours may do, if they 
have a mind to. This crest is a ring with a tree-branch passed 
through it. No one in the Territory has a ring like the prisoner's, no 
one has such a pistol." 

After the attorney had minutely recounted all my actions on the 
day succeeding the murder always with the same . false color he 
continued : 



1 889. 1 PA UL RING WOOD .- AN A UTOBIOGRA PHY. 523 

" Night again draws nigh. The prisoner sends a foolish message 
to Mr. John Greene, that he is obliged to take a sudden journey 
East. He prepares for flight by purchasing an outfit at the house 
of Monzanares & Co. He thinks all is safely provided for, and is 
about to board the train that is to take him away from the scene of 
his crime. But all that day Nemesis, in the person of Lawyer Durke, 
has been abroad ; the prisoner is a doomed man." 

Then was told the story of my arrest and my confusion thereat. 
This was followed by a half-hour's harangue, which, as nearly as I 
can recollect, ended in these words : " Gentlemen of the jury, in the 
name of the murdered man's sister ; in the name of his widow, whose 
anguish has wrung our hearts this day; in the name of the murdered 
man himself, I call on you to bring down the utmost vengeance of 
an outraged law on this scourge of families, this blot on our fair 
civilization." 

Looking about him triumphantly, the attoriiey sat down amidst a 
hum of applause, the judge's gavel beating on his table to call order. 
They were waiting Lawyer Bell for the defence. Not till he had 
finished writing the notes he was taking from my whispered infor- 
mation did he begin. His speech was not a long one, though he 
said all that could be said to make good a hopeless case. 

" Gentlemen of the jury," he began, " I am not here for the pur- 
pose of bringing side issues of scandal into this most scandalous 
trial. Nevertheless, a word must be said to expose a lie that not 
for a moment men of intellect, such as I see before me, could let 
influence the decision they have made in their souls, of the entire 
innocence of my afflicted client. There is absolutely no foundation 
for the wicked statements made concerning the lady who has the 
misfortune to be Thomas Hethering's sister. For the sole and only 
reason that he had tired of his wife, Hethering, without his wife's 
knowledge, procured a divorce. The poor wife, whose reason had 
long been tottering on its throne from Hethering's brutal treatment, 
now went.altogether mad; and during long years this wretched woman 
has been cared and tended by the noble woman whose name should 
not have been dragged into this trial. Within a week of the granting 
of the divorce Hethering married yonder lady. We are sorry that 
we are compelled to speak of it ; the prosecution has forced the un- 
pleasant duty on us. Thomas Hethering may have been the 
first to gain Mrs. Nancy Hethering's affections, but he was not 
her first husband. She has a husband from whom she has been di- 
vorced, living in New York City. 'His name is Samson Durke, a 
lawyer, like his brother of Santa Fe." 

The widow was not weeping now, but staring angrily at Lawyer 



524 PA UL RING WOOD : AN Au TOBIOGRA PH Y [July, 



Bell, a light in her eyes that would have done credit to Lady 
Macbeth. 

" It has been stated," pursued the defence, " that Mrs. Nancy 
Hethering has no wish to make the name of the sister of Thomas 
Hethering a by-word in the mouths of men. We defy the prosecu- 
tion to bring forward one trustworthy witness who can allege the 
smallest thing against the fair name of a deeply wronged woman. 
In no spirit of compunction does he refuse my challenge. He dare 
not take it up. The prosecution, failing in the attempt to injure the 
unimpeachable good name of my client, became desperate, resorting 
to the infamy of vilifying an injured gentlewoman. That the means 
used to influence your decision, gentlemen, are illegal, we may have 
occasion to show in a higher court." 

The defence now strove to show that my actions on the night of 
the murder and the succeeding day were the actions of an innocent 
man ; denied that Elbert Ringwood was in hiding to screen his 
brother ; denounced Elbert Ringwood as the murderer ; declared 
that the case should not be put into the hands of the jury till said 
Elbert Ringwood had been found ; warned the jury not to trust 
circumstantial evidence of too flimsy a character to be used against a 
cat ; and in the end demanded confidently a verdict of not guilty. 
The jury looked intensely relieved that the speech-making was 
over. This was not remarkable ; they had not heard two speeches, 
but four. The speeches of the prosecution and defence had been 
interpreted to them, and on this occasion the interpreter did his 
work well. 

The judge now condemned me as far as it lay in his power. He 
honestly thought me guilty. Whilst he protested against the jury's 
being blindly led by what was purely circumstantial evidence, he 
charged them to bring in a verdict of guilty. When Jack heard 
this, poor fellow ! he hid his face in his hands and gave vent to a 
deep groan. The jury filed out, some of the lawyers lit cigars and 
went to smoke in a^side room, where we could hear them laughing 
and joking. The people talked busily about what verdict the jury 
would bring in, the widow and Durke conversed in whispers, Judge 
Margravine's pen went swiftly over the paper on which he was 
writing. Lawyer Bell drew a chair to my side, and Jack laid his 
hand encouragingly on my shoulder. 

" Should the jury bring in a verdict against you, I'll move for a 
new trial," said Bell. " If this is refused, there is the Supreme 
Court. There is in any case a year before us, and I believe I can 
find Elbert Ringwood in that time. Your dying for him is but 
moral and physical suicide. This is no time for reproaches, Paul, 



.] DREAMS. 525 

but if you had trusted me entirely, you would not be in the plight 
you are now " 

He stopped abruptly; the jury were returning to their places in 
the court-room. The lawyers hurried back to their chairs, the judge 
laid down his pen. I dared not look the jury in the face. My head 
bent and supported by my hand, my arm resting on my knee, I 
tried to form a prayer. There was a deep hush, and I felt my mind 
drifting, drifting away. The foreman spoke, the interpreter inter- 
preted : " Guilty ; guilty of murder in the first degree ! ' 

The judge asked if the prisoner had anything to say why sen- 
tence should not be pronounced against him. The prisoner 
looked up and about him wildly, and muttered that he wanted 
fresh air. Now the judge pronounced sentence, that the prisoner be 
taken from this place to the place whence he came, and that one 
year from this day he be hanged by the neck till he be dead, and 
the judge asked God to have mercy on his soul. 

The prisoner had been told to stand to receive his sentence. 
When the last word of the invocation had been uttered, he threw 
out his arms, and crying, " God ! God ! ' fell flat on his face to the 
ground. 

HAROLD DIJON. 



TO BE CONTINUED. 



DREAMS. 



LIKE shadow-freighted ships which softly creep 
Across some far-off ghostly main, 
They haunt the chambers of the brain, 

And kiss their fingers to the watchman, Sleep! 

MEREDITH NICHOLSON. 



VOL. XLIX. 34 



526 AN APOSTOLIC COLLEGE. [July, 



AN APOSTOLIC COLLEGE. 

STANDING on high ground in northwest Baltimore is a large, 
roomy building known far and wide as the Highland Park Hotel. 
From its cupola can be seen stretching out to the southeast the city 
of Baltimore, with the waters of the Patapsco, and in the far distance 
Fort Carroll and Chesapeake Bay. Little did its former wealthy 
patrons fancy that their beautiful summer resort would ever become 
a nursery to train youths to evangelize that race which was formerly 
debarred from crossing its portals, except as menials. A wealthy 
Catholic family bought it some time ago and gave it to be used as a 
Catholic missionary institution, entitled "The Epiphany Apostolic 
College," to prepare young aspirants for St. Joseph's Seminary for 
the colored missions. 

Colleges are familiar to us ; but what is an apostolic college ? It 
is one whose aim is to inspire the spirit of an apostle and a mis- 
sionary, so that every student entering its halls will be anxious to 
become another Abraham. It will teach a noble soul to go out 
from his father's house to strange peoples in order to win them to 
Christianity and civilization. An apostolic college is primarily 
intended to supply shepherds for those other sheep not as yet of the 
fold. 

Like all supernatural virtues the missionary spirit is a growth. 
As in the physical order so in the supernatural, there is no 
spontaneous generation. That blessed fire of Christ which breeds 
thirst for souls is indeed enkindled from on high, but yet requires 
careful tending. Too often, alas ! is it quenched while yet but a 
spark. 

The young aspirant to become a missionary must be brought 
near the church's universality. Before his young eyes the world 
should roll, like a mighty panorama, around one great focus 
Jesus Christ. His zeal should grasp all humanity. Like the Holy 
Spirit of God, he should not regard geographical or racial distinc- 
tions, but he should feel the actual reality of what St. Paul told 
the Athenians: "that God is near every man." The apostolic 
youth is on a higher plane, and all men are his brothers. Like 
Moses standing upon the mount and looking with longing desire 
to the promised land, the youth filled with apostolic spirit looks at 
mankind, for whom Christ lived and died, and longs to see them 



.] AN APOSTOLIC COLLEGE. 



5 2 7 



living and dying for him who gave all for them. Casting his eye over 
the universe, and seeing so many millions and millions of men who 
know not their Saviour China, Japan, India, all of Africa, the isles 
of the Pacific, their teeming multitudes seeming to stretch out 
their arms as did the Macedonians of old to St. Paul, crying 
out "pass over and help us" he heeds their cries and longs 
to go to them. The spirit of this youthful evangelist must be 
like St. Patrick's, who, when he returned to his own country 
after having seen Ireland, had ever before his vision the forms 
of the Irish people, and found no rest till he returned to that 
isle which was to produce so many saints and evangelized it. 
For the youth aspiring to the apostolate the motto might well be 
" Veritas liberabit te" Truth in its broadest aspect is his. He sees 
men as men, and not as members of any particular race. He knows 
men are created for truth ; he knows that God's truth is revealed for 
men, and that, like the breath of life, truth is universal. The apostle 
desires to spread the truth among all men. Seeing poor wounded 
humanity by the wayside, he draws not his cloak about him and 
passes not on with a side glance, a mere look of sympathy, but 
raises the poor victim up and cares for him, imparting to him what- 
ever of truth he may receive. 

Nor does divine truth eliminate human truth, for truth is essen- 
tially one. Among all peoples is an abundance of truth, which the 
young apostle longs to elevate by crowning it with revealed truth. 
While yet in his father's house, surrounded by those in full possession 
of God's truth, he longs to communicate it to others. Like goodness, 
truth is necessarily aggressive ; it tends to expand, and the apostolic 
soul is not content till he starts out to do his share in spreading that 
truth among men. 

The characteristic traits, then, of a missionary are love of truth 
and a grasp of the church's broadness. In his eyes the church's 
mission overrides mountains, rivers, oceans, and makes the human 
race in very truth one. " I will send you the Paraclete, and he will 
teach you all truth." The Holy Spirit of God is dealing with every 
individual, and the apostle yearns to be his agent. But what is the 
motive ? What is the force which energizes the young apostle's zeal? 
His appreciation of the truth as it is universal. Some force is neces- 
sary to impel a soul to heroic endeavor. With the missionary it is 
a vivid perception of universality. The energy of the apostle is the 
personal love of our Lord Jesus Christ as the head of the whole 
human race. His heart knows the Saviour, and knows that he came 
not alone to save us, but to be the type and perfection of humanity 
in the supernatural order. The personality of Jesus Christ is the 



528 AN APOSTOLIC COLLEGE. [July, 

focus around which centres all the aims and aspirations of the 
missionary. 

"But when Christ was gone his disciples took it upon themselves to go forth 
to preach to all parts of the earth, with the object of preaching him and collecting 
converts in his name. After a little while they are found wonderfully to have suc- 
ceeded. Large bodies of men in various places are to be seen, professing to be 
his disciples, owning him as their King and continually swelling in number and 
penetrating into the populations of the Roman Empire. At length they convert 
the empire itself. All this is historical fact. Now we want to know the farther 
historical fact, viz., the cause of their conversion. In other words, what were the 
topics of that preaching which was so effective ? If we believe what is told us by 
the preachers and their converts, the answer is plain : ' They preached Christ. ' 
They called on men to believe, hope, and place their affections in that Deliverer 
who had come and gone ; and the moral instrument by which they persuaded 
them to do so was a description of the life, character, mission, and power of 
that Deliverer a promise of his invisible presence and protection here, and 
of the vision and fruition of him hereafter. Christ departs, but is found through 
his preachers to have imprinted the Image or Idea of himself in the minds of his 
subjects individually; and that Image, apprehended and worshipped in individual 
minds, becomes a principle of association and a real bond of those subjects, one 
with another, who are thus united to the body by being united to that Image ; 
and, moreover, that Image which is their moral life, when they have been already 
converted, is also the original instrument of their conversion. It is the Image of 
him who fulfils the one great need of human nature, the Healer of its wounds, 
the Physician of the soul ; this Image it is which both creates faith and then 
rewards it." Newman's Grammar of Assent. 

Thus far the apostolic spirit has been mainly considered on its 
divine side ; it has also its human side. The apostle is a man, lives 
among men, labors for men ; consequently, should make men his 
study. Like St. Paul, he must become all things to all men. The 
Catholic missionaries have ever adapted themselves to their sur- 
roundings. Herein lies, humanly speaking, the. secret of their 
success. Even Protestant writers are witnesses of how Catholic 
missionaries gain souls by making themselves like their surround- 
ings. 

To ignore natural and racial antipathies while searching out for 
those natural qualities which would best serve as the basis on which 
to build up the supernatural edifice, is the missionary's task. " Vir- 
tus secundam naturam " is a recognized principle of St. Thomas. 
Every race has phases of truth and of virtue which would happily serve 
as a working element for the missionary ; it is his place to find these 
out, accommodate himself to them, and enlarge upon them. Nay, 
more, he should study also the civil and temporal welfare of his 
people, for the missionary is a public character, identified in every 
way with the people to whom God has sent him. No one but 
admires Cardinal Manning for the way in which he has taken up 



.] AN APOSTOLIC COLLEGE. 529 

every movement for the public good of the people of England. 
Archbishop Walsh standing in the witness box in defence of the 
great Irish leader is as true an archbishop as he is a patriot, and 
Cardinal Gibbons raising his voice in that noble basilica beyond the 
Tiber in protestation of America's love for law and order, as well as 
her devotion to human liberty, sent an echo through the heart of 
every American, Catholic and Protestant alike. 

What we have said is particularly true of the missionary to the 
negro race. Not only are they to be won to the faith, but also to 
be taught the elements of temporal success and a just appreciation of 
civil liberty and its privileges. The negro is to be first made a 
Christian and then made a man a man, that is, in the noblest sense 
of the word ; full of those lofty aspirations which true manhood be- 
stows. How is this to be done ? It is to be done by the holy 
spirit of God in the Catholic Church, but by human instruments and 
in human ways. 

The human element in the negro must be built up. To say that 
the negro race is hopelessly beyond reach is rank Calvinism, un- 
worthy of a Catholic. Far from it ; there are in this people natural 
traits which will serve as a basis for the missionary to work upon. 
In a few words we may point out the best characteristics of the 
negro. He is deeply religious, of a sincere and simple faith. For him 
the supernatural gives a coloring to all the events of life. Like St. 
Paul, he knows how to be in want and to abound ; few races of men 
better realize that maxim of the Gospel, "Be not solicitous for the 
morrow." Patience in adversity, silent endurance of the visitations 
of Providence pre-eminently belong to the negro. His naturally 
deep emotion, which finds vent at all times in hymns of praise and 
songs of joy, mark him out as specially chosen for participation in the 
public services of the Catholic Church. The song of praise which 
has gone up to the Most High during so many ages in the cathedrals, 
monasteries, and cloisters of Christendom will gladly meet a respon- 
sive echo in the hearts of the negroes, whose own sweet voices would 
waft fully as pleasing a melody to serve as a sweet accompaniment 
to the songs of heaven. Again, no race of men better know the 
lesson of the Sacred Heart: "Learn of me that I am meek and 
humble of heart." What race among us is as gentle as the negro ? 
Surely a race with so many good qualities which would serve as 
rallying points round which the missionary might gather his super- 
natural forces is well calculated to become Christian. Plenty of ma- 
terial is there for the missionary to work upon. Let him teach the 
negro to sanctify his long hours of suffering, to be gentle for the 
sake of the Sacred Heart of Jesus, to be docile for Christ's sake. To 



53 AN APOSTOLIC COLLEGE. [July, 

accomplish much among them it behooves the missionary at any and 
all times to be pleasant and gentle in manner. Kindness to them in 
words and in acts is essential. Father Ryan, the poet-priest, once 
said to the writer : " The best way to reach a negro's soul is 
through his body." The missionary must identify himself with the 
temporal interests of the colored race, not indeed in a way to 
make himself disliked by the whites, for that would work in- 
jury to his people. He should encourage industrial training, the 
learning of trades, thrift, sobriety, early marriages in a word, the 
mission-house should be as much a social and industrial gathering- 
place as a centre of religious influence. 

To these many traits add the supernatural truths which the 
negroes firmly hold. They believe in God the Father, and in Him 
whom he sent- Jesus Christ. Their reverence for the holy Name 
might well make many of us blush. They are fond of the Holy 
Scriptures. What they call change of heart seems to the writer to be 
very frequently a genuine sorrow for sin. True, they often relapse 
and fall into former evils ; but that is a weakness common to all hu- 
manity. Furthermore, the natural sunniness of their disposition 
enters so largely into their religion that the church becomes the 
centre of all their joys as well as all their interests, social no less than 
religious. Nor should we forget that the negroes are a people 
moving forward and tending upward. They are making themselves 
felt in every way, not obtrusively or by any other means than by 
gentle, patient plodding. 

No need is there to give the faults of the negro; they are many 
and grievous ; but no race among us can throw the first stone at 
them ; and if now and then we read of dreadful atrocities committed 
by negroes, they are far from the necessary outcome of their natural 
character, and nearly always may be laid at the door of the rum- 
shop, the keeper of which is generally a white man, and we are sorry 
to add, far too often a Catholic. 

From the foregoing one may form an idea of the spirit which it 
will be the aim of the Apostolic College to infuse into the hearts of 
its students. This college is a necessity, as the writer's experience 
during the past ten years of missionary life amongst the colored 
people fully proves. Of the young men studying for the priesthood 
in the colleges which he visited, nearly all are in some way bound 
either to bishop, priest, or patron. They are not free to do mission- 
ary work. Again, it is best to take boys fresh from school for this 
work, and train them, from the beginning of the classical course on- 
ward to the end, that they may be ever imbibing the apostolic spirit 



.J AN APOSTOLIC COLLEGE. 531 

and be continually studying the methods peculiarly adapted to 
their vocation. 

The writer appeals with confidence to his brother-priests to 
supply him with worthy subjects. The conditions for admission are : 

ist. A sincere desire for the colored mission in preference to the 
priestly state among the whites. 

2d. Recommendation from a priest. 

3d. A sound preparatory course in a good school. 

4th. Good health and not less than fifteen years of age. 

5th. Besides supplying their own clothing and books, applicants 
are expected to pay as much as possible of the expenses of tuition. 

There are certainly numbers of noble youths in our country 
ready to take up this work for their Master. It needs only to be 
known to fill their young hearts with zeal. Nor should it be forgot- 
ten that St. Joseph's Society is a band of secular priests, who are 
ordained "sub titulo missionis" like all secular clergy. It is a com- 
munity having a common table, which is necessary for the proper 
performance of missionary duty at the South. Its house for the 
study of philosophy and theology, St. Joseph's Seminary, Baltimore, 
has just closed its first year with seven students one of them col- 
ored two of whom were ordained priests in June. The new Apos- 
tolic College will open on the feast of St. Peter Claver, September 9, 
of this year. Thirty-seven students have been accepted for the 
opening, of whom three are colored. To foster vocations among our 
colored youth will be one of the especial objects of this institution. 

In conclusion, I wish to affirm my conviction that there must be 
some great providential design in the position of the colored people 
of the United States, and that it is the evangelization of Africa. 
Possessed of American citizenship and the Catholic faith, the noblest 
natural and supernatural gifts within reach of men, the colored peo- 
ple of our land would be led by the spirit of God to carry these 
twin blessiixgs to the land of their fathers. The writer believes that 
he will see the day when missionaries, black and white, hand in hand, 
will go forth to reconquer to religion and civilization the land of 
St. Augustine and St. Cyprian. This is the centennial year of the 
Catholic Church in America ; it will be noted for many advances in 
science and religion, not the least of which will be the establishment 
of the EPIPHANY APOSTOLIC COLLEGE of Baltimore. 

J. R. SLATTERY. 



53 2 A RELIGIOUS ORDER DEVOTED TO [July* 



A RELIGIOUS ORDER DEVOTED TO PUBLICATION: 

WHY NOT? 



MAN has been said to be what he eats ; 'he may much better be 
said to be what he reads. Both because he is likely to read the 
things to which his natural inclinations tend, and because his read- 
ing will surely germinate and develop inclinations similar to itself. 
It is the old maxim, " Noscitur a sociis" raised to double power ; for 
what is the company which holds so intimate communion with 
us, which we permit to reach so unreservedly into our inmost 
thoughts, to approach us at such unguarded moments, so frequently, 
so freely, as the company of the silent page which we believe will 
not reveal the secrets it has surprised in us, the hidden delectations, 
the unspoken assents to a superiority of which we have no conscious 
jealousies ? 

That this is in its way a reading age need not be emphasized. 
The modern printing-press has transformed the world into a vast 
reading-room. The worthlessness of much of that reading has 
furnished the theme for declamation falling into impeachment of the 
habit itself, and into censorious comparison of the present with more 
idyllic times, when the masses had scarcely other literature than that 
of "leaves and running brooks." God, however, is the only one 
who can correctly strike the trial-balances of the ages, and it seems 
a more promising undertaking to increase their credit accounts than 
to seek to arrest their transactions. 

It is true, indeed, that a glance at the printed matter daily spread 
out before men, and greedily devoured before the rising of another 
sun, is sufficient to appall the reflecting mind. Count simply the 
daily journals published in almost every city and town of the civil- 
ized world ; add the semi-weekly, weekly, fortnightly, monthly, and 
quarterly sheets, magazines, reviews, and periodicals of every kind, 
in every language, and on every imaginable topic ; remember all 
the publications devoted to some special interest of trade, com- 
merce, art, science, society, sport, amusement, religion, and still 
further to a single subdivision or article in any one of these ; then 
turn to books, pamphlets, monographs, great and small, old and 
new, original and translated, abridged and developed, reviewed and 
annotated, edited and re-edited, diversified in substance, arrange- 
ment, form, appearance, type, and binding ; reflect upon the circula- 



I 88 9-I PUBLICATION: WHY NOT? 533 

tion of each, the number of copies printed, sold, hired, lent, and 
passed around ; take the census of type-setters, who are for ever 
setting up fresh matter ; of the printers, publishers, booksellers, re- 
tailers, canvassers, agents, and distributers, who spread this deluge of 
printed leaves over the earth and into every corner of it; notice 
every one you see reading at home and abroad, throughout the day 

and at night, travelling and at rest, at meals and even at work the 

grown man and the small boy, the shop-girl and the very day- 
laborer and then say if man does not live on what he reads as well 
as upon what he eats. 

But a second consideration completes the analogy and is of still 
greater gravity. What we read affects our minds just as certainly as 
the nature and quality of our food affects our bodies. I defy a man 
to devote himself faithfully for six months to any particular line ot 
reading without his mental fibre being manifestly modified by it. 
We all know how the small boy and the Indian became consociate 
spirits by a sufficient ingestion of the old dime novel. And I do not 
believe there lives a man of any creed or any calling who could read 
the lives of the saints every day for half a year without disclosing it 
outwardly in some way in his conduct. 

The repeated phrases, the propositions and sentiments continually 
reflected upon the mind, become finally stereotyped there, and by an 
unconscious cerebration we come to produce in our thoughts, in our 
speech, and in our lives, however imperfectly, multiplied editions ot 
what we have thus gradually been made more or less accurate copy- 
plates. Frequent statement becomes fact; constant sentiment 
received, evoked, indulged, and enjoyed becomes nature. We get to 
look from certain standpoints, to see with special glasses, to compare 
with familiar prototypes, to judge by these appropriated standards. 
And though with the great mass the variety and superficiality ot 
their reading prevent, perhaps, any perfect impression of a positive 
kind, still that predominates which they most absorb ; and nega- 
tively, at least, so far as their reading has been desultory in direction * 
and indifferent in intensity, they reflect it perfectly by the fragmen- 
tary, superficial, and inane nature of the reproduction. 

Now, is all this evil ? Heaven forbid ! Whither the whole race 
runs with a seemingly natural appetite there must be some odor ot 
truth and its savor to entice and to delight. There is evidently a 
proper principle at the base of this universal attraction of the human 
mind for printed thought. It may in part rest in individual mental 
indolence, it may in measure run into profitless inquiry ; it does, 
indeed seem prolific of many evil consequences. But it is certainly 
an evidence of the intellectual spirit within us, and of its clamor for 



534 A RELIGIOUS ORDER DEVOTED TO [July, 

its share of food and satisfaction a living demonstration that man 
lives not by bread alone. By it the vehicle of thought, language, 
becomes familiar, the vocabulary of the mind, even adventitiously, 
becomes enlarged. It increases and facilitates the receptibility of 
the mind for truth. The sluggish intellect, otherwise entirely supine, 
is quickened without its will, the critical faculties are awakened and 
indirectly exercised. Stores of information, whatever their relative 
importance and however ill-assorted, accumulate in the memory, and 
if we build not with them well or wisely, they are still possessions of 
some value in themselves and ready to hand for proper construction. 
By a more extended knowledge of peoples and of places, of contem- 
poraneous events, of human effort and failure, of public grievances 
and sufferings, hopes and aims, we all come to be more in touch with 
one another as a race. And generally, in industrial, social, and 
political aspects, and at least in a purely earthly view, there can 
scarcely be a doubt that this universal reading diffuses, broadens, 
and equalizes human civilization. 

This granted and premised, there is no need to rehearse the 
abuses, evil results, and greater dangers connected with unrestrained, 
unselected, and undirected reading. It is enough to say that if the 
matter presented and absorbed be itself unsound, misleading, debas- 
ing, or immoral, no more marvellous device can be conceived for dif- 
fusing the poison rapidly and making it universally potent potent 
to the mass as well as to the individual, over the face of the world as 
well as in the locus of its noxious origin, for the present hour and, it 
might almost be said, for every hour of succeeding ages. 

This is the only remark upon it which I shall make, as it leads to 
my next conclusion : the importance, the fundamental interest of 
taking part in, of affecting and directing the supply, and at the 
point of supply. The stream that cannot be governed below can be 
guided at its source. It is idle to say : Don't read ; it is much more 
promising to say : Read this. The faculties of man are so clogged by 
the clay in his composition that he is scarcely more than a negative 
being ; there is little self-initiative in him. He is a creature of temp- 
tation. We cannot destroy the temptations to error and vice, but 
we can multiply the provocations to truth and virtue. The senses 
solicit us, the imagination entices we must be tempted to wisdom 
and subjected to the solicitations of what is good. 

The great sources of the supply, the great houses of publication, 
are conducted on what is called business principles. That is, they 
furnish what will pay. That which most readily attracts the greatest 
number is what will pay most readily, and therefore they aim in the 
main to furnish what will attract the greatest number. This is the 



l88 9-] PUBLICATION: WHY NOT? 535 

test, the standard, and the guide by which they are governed. Of 
course other considerations may enter in greater or less degree, but 
they are merely minor limitations upon the rule, and do not materially 
alter the fundamental aim and end. The world with its undefinable 
sense has perceived the fact, and to those who have achieved special 
success in the occupation it accords the palm of business eminence, 
and scarcely more. Other occupations have been dignified into 
professions, still others have been raised into vocations ; and to these 
mankind yields more or less fully an additional tribute of reverence 
and esteem. It cannot be said that this tribute is given because of 
the results achieved, but it springs from the nature of the calling and 
its aims. We recognize the object and we bow to the motive. 
Why not so here ? Teaching the young has been hallowed as a voca- 
tion ; why not teaching the adult and the world ? Preaching has its 
anointed ministers ; why not this predication of the written message ? 
The evangels of human triviality and error have their zealous distri- 
buters ; why might not the lesser evangels of truth have consecrat- 
ed agents to disseminate them with knowledge and good judgment, 
with devotion and organized effort ? In a word, why should so 
powerful, so universal, so far-reaching a means of doing good be left 
almost wholly in indifferent and purely worldly hands ? 

It is true that the force of these reflections has been recognized 
in part. Sporadic and spasmodic efforts have been made, are 
making, here and there, in a limited way, to effect the purposes thus 
suggested. But it seems that as conceived they fail and must fail to 
fill the requirements of the situation. They lack the fundamental 
requisite of any lasting work. They are mainly the effort of an indi- 
vidual, or a few, and they live, at best, the length of an individual life. 
Something greater, broader, larger than individual life and individual 
aims is what they want ; something other than the fatal limitation of 
personality that ear-mark of mere human undertaking. 

What is wanted is vocation and the lasting stamp of God, reli- 
gious consecration and religious organization. 

The engrossing monks of old were, in their way, the publishers 
of the day. The ages change and their circumstances, but the Divine 
Spirit, ever the same, can accommodate itself to every need and 
make itself all things to all men. Is it a vain imagining or a pre- 
sumptuous fancy to believe that here is a field of energy proper and 
ripe for holy enterprise and divine blessing ? 

It is not the purpose of these lines to go into an elaborate discus- 
sion of this matter. The nature of the subject calls for abler and 
more certain hands than mine. But one objection that would 
naturally occur may be briefly considered. It will be said that the 



53 6 A RELIGIOUS ORDER DEVOTED TO [July, 

experience of similar enterprises, previously referred to, points to 
commercial failure ; in other words, that it does not pay. Exactly. 
So long as attempted on purely human lines, so long as its force 
depends wholly in its direct and immediate commercial success, it 
may well be, it must be, that the principles of commercial life will 
prevail over it. That is the very reason why it requires religious 
organization, the sources of strength, in fact the material assistance, 
which religious orders alone appear to possess the secret of gathering 
to themselves. How do other orders thrive and flourish ? Is it by 
mere commercial aims and enterprise ? Look at them in many direc- 
tions of undertaking, and some, be it said with reverence, which seem 
utterly to defy the world, the flesh, and the devil. That they do suc- 
ceed in spite of every drawback, of invidious attack, and of all man- 
ner of untoward circumstances, is a fact. And to look at it from a 
purely human view, they can be much more economically managed, 
and do their work with much less expenditure. Their character 
sooner or later procures for them support, endorsements, and facilities, 
moral and material, which none other receive. Their very nature is 
a pledge of permanency which invites and encourages aid and co- 
operation. Their means of securing success, of reaching out in many 
indefinable directions, are superior. There is less of personal and local 
jealousy of their work. There is a unity and a constancy in their 
efforts which strengthen and guarantee the result. And lastly, is it 
an offence to any one to say that there is a superior light, a guidance 
and a blessing which attend them ? 

One thing is certain : the field is there, and the human mind is 
yellowing for the harvest. The man of commerce and cupidity re- 
cognizes the fact and multiplies his endeavors. The cheap libraries 
and the cheap editions tempt every eager eye, enter every household, 
and pursue us everywhere. Periodicals teem with disquisitions on 
the subject. We are told what books this great man read, what that 
other recommends. A reciprocity of advertisement and counter- 
advertisement prevails. It is not enough to have books flaunted at 
you on every stall, at every corner, in every retreat of the home and 
the counting-house, by sea and shore ; if you buy one you will find it 
to contain somewhere between the covers at the foot, in the text, on 
the back, on the title-page ingenious invitations, enticements, and 
commendations to many others. 

On the other hand, what countless volumes of inestimable value 
lie half unknown, out of print, out of reach, out of mind, or out of 
price. When by loving study we have learnt their names, who 
wrote them, what they are about, what has been said about them, we 
need other industries to find out where they exist ; we meet many 



.] PUBLICATION: WHY NOT? 



537 



disappointments before we get at them, and then how often only to 
find that we cannot well purchase them at all. 

Do not tell me that they would not sell. Have they ever had halt 
a decent chance ? When I see even working-boys attempting Aristotle 
and Plato, wrestling with Kant or lost in Herbert Spencer ; when I 
meet school-misses with scientific monthlies, struggling with the con- 
servation of energy or protoplasms with as much ardor as Job with 
the angel or Pasteur with a bacillus; when every youth in the land 
can teach us the literature of protection and free-trade, and every me- 
chanic can quote text for theories of government and economics ; 
when the very guide in the backwoods will startle you with extracts 
from Gibbon or Tom Paine ; when Confucius, the Koran, and the 
Rig- Vedas, Swedenborg, the Book of Mormon, and the revelations of 
theosophists, mediums, and devotees find readers; when every empty 
theorist, blatant declaimer, and vapid scribbler can get a hearing, I 
do not believe that there is anything so arduous, so dry, abstruse, 
stupid, absurd, or repellent but that the human mind can find some 
delight in it. 

All humanity cries : We want to read ! we want to read ! Tell us 
of something, talk it up, make it get-at-able, poke it at our fingers, 
and make it cheap. Don't give it to us in enormous tomes with en- 
ormous prices, with print which requires an inverted telescope to 
read, and a whole life to do it in. We have no money for margins ; 
keep these for the rich and the dilettante ; dress it up in modern 
clothes, meet us with it in the street, advertise it like everything else, 
review it, explain it, make it public and actual, real and life-like, and 
see if we don't buy it. 

O ye masters of human thought ! long sometimes, often ponde- 
rous, always grand ; whose names are half-concealed by the dust of 
neglect, whose works are supposed to be too heavy or too good for 
us, whose profound introspections, pithy sayings, and sublime pro- 
nouncements are stated to have been fit only for darker ages ; whom 
we seek with labor, find with difficulty, and pay dearly for on the 
ground that there are so few would love you I wonder what you 
think of your pretended admirers who have so little faith in you and 
in themselves. O ye giants of the race and its flower! who have 
sounded every note of truth and sentiment, every chord of tenderness 
and sweetness, and explored all the copses of contemplation and an- 
alysis, in older or more recent times how I wish I could resurrect 
you and ask if you take so despairing a view of your kin, if the 
human mind has lost its capacity for truth, if the "splendor veritatis" 
has lost all its beauty and its charm, if there is no market for it 
among the marts of men. Are there not enough of us at least, and 



538 TALK ABOUT NEW BOOKS. [July, 

an ever-growing number, who would strive to make amends ? If 
not, we want a new crusade, and who shall preach it ? 

I imagine that I see looming up from the cell of an ancient Bene- 
dictine abbey the venerable head of a monk, who, forgetful of the 
flight of time, has remained at work transcribing some illuminated 
manuscript of an older age. In wonder he hears the cry and gazes 
at the scene, and, laying down his pen, he answers me : " God and 
a religious order." 

Perhaps the echo of his voice will reach a wiser and braver 
soul, and some seer with deeper thought and better inspired devotion 
will arise and give us the Order of Publication. 

ALBERT REYNAUD. 



TALK ABOUT NEW BOOKS. 

THE novels on our table this month are unusually pleasant read- 
ing for the most part. Not all of them are new. Charles Scribner's 
Sons have just issued, in yellow paper covers, a very good translation 
of one of the most agreeable of the Erckmann-Chatrian series, 
Friend Fritz : A Tale of the Banks of the Lauter. There is some- 
thing delightfully human, droll, and kindly in it, from the first page to 
the last. Kobus's predestined but unconscious lapse from the deter- 
mined bachelorhood of a bon vivant, easy-going and sweet-tempered, 
fond of good eating, good drinking, and shuffling about in old 
clothes, proud of his unhampered liberty and serene in the 
untempted security on which it rests, could hardly have been 
described with greater simplicity and charm. True, there is nothing 
which can be called elevating about the story. But, granting that 
the authors look at life like thorough Sadducees, still they not only 
have no quarrel with the moralities, great or small, but they are 
plumply and unmistakably enlisted on the side of the natural virtues 
and social decencies. And surely they have seldom been surpassed 
as delineators of those common, humble, and kindly aspects of Alsa- 
tian village life with which they had a natural sympathy. The 
Catholic reader of Friend Fritz will be apt to take exception to the 
few pages which describe the visit of Kobus and the tax-collector to 
Wildlands, not so much questioning their probable truth as objecting 
to their peculiar animus. Yet such a reader, especially if his Catho- 
licity bears the American stamp, finding himself in such surround- 
ings, would feel that true devotion to " St. Maclof, St. Jeronymus, and 
the Blessed Virgin " would prompt him not only to kneel at their 



l88 9-l TALK ABOUT NEW BOOKS, 539 

shrines, but to preach as vigorously as Collector Haan, though in a 
different spirit, the gospel of prudence, industry, and soap and water. 
One may be sure that the House of Nazareth shone under their 
influence ; sure, too, that those saints, of whom the Blessed Labre is 
one example, who have the air of not sharing Father Faber's 
expressed preference for "the clean macerations," doubtless pos- 
sessed it in a still higher degree ; and that their mortification of it 
was to them an extremely uncomfortable virtue. It is certainly one 
that may be classed with those which the spiritual writers tell us may 
be admired in great saints, but not wisely imitated by us poor ordi- 
nary sinners. 

The second issue of Lovell's International Series is a clever 
English novel called Hartas Maturin, by H. F. Lester. Unlike 
most stories which hinge upon a murder, this leaves no doubt for an 
instant on the reader's mind as to how, by whom, and why the 
crime is committed. It has been done before his face and eyes by 
the time the first fifty pages of a long novel are completed. The 
peculiarity of the situation is that the reader and the author alone 
share that knowledge with the criminal. By the rest of the world he 
remains almost entirely unsuspected, he gains all he hoped for from 
his crime, he is never troubled by remorse, and never brought to the 
bar of human justice. 

Hartas Maturin is a young physician living in North London, in 
a neighborhood described with a few brief touches which must bring 
it vividly before the mind of any reader with observant eyes who has 
sauntered leisurely through such a suburb. He has a rich and 
pretty wife whom he married for love two or three years before the 
story opens. He practises his profession as an amateur rather than 
as a serious student ; he is addicted to chemical experiments, has an 
ambition to get into Parliament, and a growing reputation as a phi- 
lanthropist. It has been noticed of him, however, that while lavish 
with his time and money where poverty and suffering are concerned, 
yet that he 

" made strange exceptions in his charities. Those which were merely prac- 
tical, and had no sentimental and picturesque side, received less commendation 
and favor than those which appealed in some striking way to the unreasoning 
instinct of humanity. And it did not answer to ply the doctor with too many 
sickening details of disease or destitution ; these disgusted him, and cooled his 
philanthropy. He gave lavishly to rescue poor children or ill-treated women 
from bad homes or gnawing want ; but men seemed to attract his sympathies 
much less." 

Hartas belongs, that is to say, to the genus of which Count Fosco 
is another shining specimen. When the story begins, he is repre- 
sented as anxious to further his parliamentary schemes by posing 



540 TALK ABOUT NEW BOOKS. [July,. 

still more publicly as a philanthropist He wants to cut out his pro- 
bable rival for a seat in the House at the next election, by capping 
the thousand pounds just contributed by him toward a park for the 
neighborhood, by five thousand of his own. Unfortunately, as he 
has not five thousand of his own, his wife's fortune having been 
secured by settlements, it has already become necessary for him to ask 
her for the money. She has refused it, not entirely through unwill- 
ingness to part with such a sum, but also because the scheme and its 
motive seem mercenary and calculating to her, and detract from that 
ideal of her husband which she nervously longs to guard in its integ- 
rity. Finding it not easy to persuade her, and being constitutional- 
ly averse to family disagreements, he quietly sets a trap for her in his 
laboratory, which he fills with the poisonous gas used to kill painless- 
ly the animals on which he frequently experiments. He is a man 
"merciful to his beast," and, on principle, never vivisects. Then, 
after spending an unusually pleasant evening with his wife, he sends 
her into the laboratory on some trifling errand, to meet her death with 
his last caressing words still sounding in her ears. The tragedy, in 
its external aspects, is all over at the very beginning of the work, and 
besides having almost no external consequences, the internal results 
of it upon the perpetrator are not of the psychological kind 
ordinarily relied on by novelists for their effect. There is no 
remorse, no gradual going from bad to worse in Hartas. He 
lives, flourishes, gets into Parliament, sleeps and eats well, and 
at a few years beyond forty,, when the reader meets him again, 
he is handsome, well-preserved, and so youthful in heart that 
he has not only captivated a charming young English girl of consid- 
erably less than half his years, but is captivated by her in turn. 
Moreover, what has attracted him in her is her singular personal 
resemblance to his murdered wife. She is the daughter of an old 
acquaintance, Colonel Vane, and her mother, who brought Netta 
into the world just after the death of Mrs. Maturin, and who is one 
of the few people who have suspected Hartas, named her for the 
murdered woman at the latter's own request. Netta is, in fact, a 
" reincarnation " of Janet. The motive of the novel develops itself 
as not psychological but " psychic " ; and the doctor's detection, 
and his death, which follows it by a " psychic ' coincidence, is 
brought about by the expedient of letting the whole details of the 
crime reproduce themselves to Netta in a waking vision at a time 
when an accident has obliged her to pass a night in the room where 
it was committed. We have some slight reason to believe that H. F. 
Lester is a member of the famous London Psychical Society. He is, 
at all events, one of the cleverest of that increasing coterie of novel- 



1889.] TALK ABOUT NEW BOOKS. 541 

ists who find their account in catering to the increasingly prevalent 
love for the marvellous which pervades the fiction-reading public. 
He puts his doctrine into the mouth of a philanthropic mystic, Bas- 
tian by name. On one occasion Bastian stops a railway train going 
at full speed by projecting his inner self forcibly against it and put- 
ting on the brake, just in time to save a deaf tourist who had not 
observed that it was behind him. On various other occasions he 
preaches it in a style which suggests much study of theosophic liter- 
ature on Mr. Lester's part, but somehow fails to convey the impres- 
sion that it has produced in him any intimate personal conviction. 

A really good and most interesting novel is Margery : A Tale of 
Old Nuremberg (New York : W. S. Gottsberger & Co.), by Georg 
Ebers. While cordially agreeing on general grounds with the verdict 
of excellent pronounced by competent critics on all the Ebers 
novels, this is the first of them which has given us any notable 
degree of that pleasure which it is the special function of a 
novel to impart. The Egyptian tales, ponderous with undeniably 
valuable information, and lighted up into the bargain with many a 
" ray serene " of that human interest which is independent of archae- 
ological, chronological, geographical, historical, or any other environ- 
ment narrower than humanity itself, nevertheless had an irresistible 
tendency to range themselves in the same category of joy-givers as 
a fine Florida orange which was presented the other day to a dainty 
little girl, just sitting up for the first time after an illness. " Is it 
good? Do you like it?" asked the giver, watching the listless manner 
in which one segment after another of the fruit disappeared from 
her plate. " Oh, yes ! " said the little thing politely, " it is very good 
but oranges don't enjoy me." It is the first business of a novel, 
as of any other work of art, to "enjoy" people, and they never 
really attain their final end in any other way. Margery eminently 
fulfils that purpose. Its readers must feel themselves indebted to 
the man who could so wholesomely and so fully entertain and recre- 
ate their minds. 

The time of the story is the first half of the fifteenth century, the 
place old Nuremberg, the actors all Catholics, and the narrator, 
Margery Schopper, one of the two most charming young women 
lately introduced into fiction, the other being her dearest friend, Ann 
Spiesz. But the tale depends so little upon plot or motive, and so 
much upon style and character-sketching the latter done with bold 
strokes and no niggling that no attempt at condensation could do 
it any justice. It is full of incident, too, and what looks like excellent 
local color. There seems a lack of verisimilitude, however, if not to 
truth of fact, at least to truth of representation, in making Margery 
VOL. XLIX. 35 



542 TALK ABOUT NEW BOOKS. 

at once the chronicler of Ann's pure, womanly love, and of Herde- 
gen's characteristic and frequent divagations on his long road to 
union with her. The fault is of the same kind as that which causes 
the male critic of female novelists to find their heroes oftener than 
not priggish and less than manly painted, that is to say, more with 
a view to what woman thinks man ought to be than with a solid ap- 
preciation of what he is. 

A hearty word of approbation is due to the translator of this 
novel, Clara Bell, for the admirable skill and good taste, the real and 
sound discrimination shown in her portion of the work. As it stands 
in the American edition, Margery is almost a model of an English 
style just antiquated enough to suggest a somewhat indefinite 
past, and at the same time quite free from affectation and those 
small blemishes in taste which annoy because, in showing strain, they 
make it ineffective. 

A close study of Clara Bell's method in this respect a method 
which she modestly describes in her brief " Translator's Note" as a 
mere effort "to avoid essentially modern words and forms of speech" 
would, we can but think, have been extremely useful to T. S. Sharo- 
wood, the author of For a King : an Historical Romance (New 
York : The Catholic Publication Society Co.; London : Burns & 
Gates). The historical romance, dealing with veritable men and 
women who once lived in the flesh and still live in the school-books, 
is such an extremely difficult problem in itself that it is apt to daunt 
pretty much everything but the innocence of extreme youth and the 
instinctive temerity of genius. And as no success ever wholly satis- 
fies the most amiable novel reader which falls very far short of that 
more than natural achievement of Sir Walter which earned him the 
title of Wizard, even genius is wise when it avoids the complications 
which an attempt to get local color by stilted archaisms must add to 
the difficulties inhering in the naked subject. There is a good deal 
of cleverness shown in For a King, and one inclines to believe 
that if its author had been dealing with her contemporaries, instead ol 
trying to make the dry bones of Charles I. and his adherents live 
through again their struggle with Parliament, she might have been 
entertaining as well as enthusiastic and learned. We hope for better 
things in future from her. 

From the same publishers comes a booklet entitled "Little Nell" : 
A Sketch, by Frances Noble. Its theme is the evil wrought by 
" pride and anger under the guise of religious zeal." The story is 
told by a father whose intense desire to prevent his motherless child 
from contracting a marriage outside of the church leads him in the 
first place to urge upon her " the desirability of a religious life for a 



1889.] TALK ABOUT NEW BOOKS. 543 

young girl," and his " wish that a vocation to it might be sent her " ; 
and secondly, to keep her secluded as far as possible from all but 
Catholic society. One result of his anxious precautions is to make 
his daughter timid and constrained in his presence ; another to make 
it possible for her to contract a clandestine marriage with an estima- 
ble young Protestant on the occasion of her first absence from home 
unattended by her father. It is a love-match, and the husband 
makes all the promises required in perfect good faith. He comes 
himself to break the news to the father, dnd to offer as the only 
excuse for the step they have taken, the fact that Agnes had 

" told him, with almost heart-broken tears, of my horror of a Protestant 
marriage for her, even though it might be guarded round by the most sacred 
promises ; she told him frankly that I should mistrust such promises and that she 
believed, much as I loved her, that I would almost rather see her dead than go 
into what I should think such deadly danger. ... I interrupted him, Mr. 
Fitzgerald ; I refused his offered hand ; I told him my daughter was right in her 
.surmise : I would rather see her dead now than that she should have sent him to 
me with such news ; that not only he, but she, his wife, was also a stranger to 
me henceforth in her disobedience ; that, being her own mistress, she had chosen 
to strike the blow which, of all others, she knew was the most cruel she could 
have struck. I told him I did not believe one of his promises, that he could go 
and tell her so, and that I never wished to see her face again ; that all I could 
do was to try, as a Christian, to forgive her the deception she had practised, and 
to pray God to keep her at least from the worst consequences of her act, that if 
she should fall away from the faith he would give her time to repent before the 
end. 

" God forgive me ! Mr. Fitzgerald, for I think I was in earnest in believing 
myself right. I was blinded to my own pride and sternness, which kept me from 
seeing how great must have been my child's dread of my iron will, how entire 
her hopelessness of any gentleness or pity from me, ere she could have consented 
to take the final step without my knowledge. I was blind to all this ; I told my- 
self I was only animated by my zeal for the faith in all I said or did." 

The upshot of the matter is that Mr. Vilette, who is a convert, 
sticks to his unnatural position, unable, as he says in relating the 
story years after, to see that he was importing " into our merciful, 
forgiving religion, my poor mother's Calvinistic spirit." He hears 
without heeding his son-in-law when the latter says that if his wife 
had not already made him inclined to love the religion which he saw 
in her, her father would cause him to hate it. He spurns his daughter 
when she comes to plead her own cause, and, in fine, behaves in the 
most cantankerous fashion, all the time approaching the sacraments 
regularly and persuading himself that in his case at least the wrath of 
man is working the justice of God. His daughter's death in child- 
bed, still unforgiven, at last brings him to his senses. At the time 
when he recounts all this, he is bringing up his granddaughter, 
4< little Nell," on lines entirely different from those once laid down for 



544 TALK ABOUT NEW BOOKS. [July, 

her mother. He has long since seen the folly of his early ways. He 
has also seen Nell's father and grandfather die good Catholics, won to 
the faith by the sweetness and piety of the daughter he discarded. 
And he is looking forward in a prophetic but resigned spirit to the 
time when " little Nell " shall become a religious and leave him to 
expiate by a lonely old age the mistaken zeal of his mature years. 

Miss Noble's pages are too hotly peppered with italics. They 
impart to the little narrative a nervous, hysterical effect with which 
the simple, unstudied phraseology has almost nothing to do. 

From D. & J. Sadlier & Co. (New York) we have received a 
volume of short stories entitled Merry Hearts and True, by Mary 
Catherine Crowley. All but one of them are reprinted from the 
Ave Maria. They are prettily told, and both in theme and manner 
well adapted to please girls of thirteen or thereabouts. The gorgeous 
character of the binding is suggestive of the approaching premium 
season, to which the contents also have a special congruity. 

Mr. F. Marion Crawford's new story, Greifenstein (New York and 
London : Macmillan & Co.), is eminently readable, like all its prede- 
cessors. Mr. Crawford has an astonishing facility. Plot, incident,, 
conversation, style all seem to flow out of him as from a fountain. 
There seems no reason why he should not, like Mrs. Oliphant, or 
like Tennyson's " Brook," " go on for ever," and, going, continue to 
interest and entertain. 

Greifenstein is the curiously complicated history of the very- 
high-and-well-born Herren von Greifenstein, father and son, and 
their half-brothers, the Herren von Rieseneck, likewise father and 
son. It begins at the period when the younger Von Greifenstein, 
being then twenty-three, is at home on his final long vacation before 
quitting the University of " Schwarzburg." Greif has passed all his 
life, excepting that portion of it spent at the university, in the depths 
of the Swabian Black Forest, where his ancestral home is situated. 
He has been betrothed for many years to his cousin, Hilda von Sig- 
mundskron, a young girl of great beauty and femininely strong 
nature, who is also a child of the Black Forest. She lives with her 
widowed mother in a neighboring castle, but in a poverty so great 
that Frau von Sigmundskron has been half-starving herself for years 
in order that Hilda's young strength may not fail for want of proper 
food. The young people love each other with a profound and pure 
passion, which Mr. Crawford has painted with delicacy and intelli- 
gence. 

Not only has the elder Von Greifenstein, a man of wealth and 
with a talent for affairs, succeeded in burying himself for nearly a 
quarter of a century in the depths of a forest where he has neither 



1889.] TALK ABOUT NEW BOOKS. 



545 



social distractions nor the compensations of a sympathetic home 
circle, but his wife, the mother of the son in whom all his hopes and 
his affections centre, has done likewise, and with apparently as few 
regrets. Nevertheless, her vanity, her love of dress, her desire to 
please, wasted as they are upon her husband and her son, still endure. 
She paints, she powders, she tortures her colorless hair into un- 
natural ringlets, she chatters incessantly and absurdly, and is a secret 
source of perplexity as well as of annoyance to the husband who 
still shows her all outward respect and courtesy, but who has long 
since ceased trying to explain to himself the fascination under whose 
spell he married. His own motive for retirement he has always 
shrunk from sharing with her, and he knows it cannot be sympathy 
that has made her the uncomplaining companion of a solitude which 
has no alleviations. He wonders at times what her experiences may 
have been before he met her, a young widow, apparently not more 
than twenty-five. But knowing how carefully he is guarding his 
own secret from her, he always refrains from curious questions. 
Von Greifenstein feels himself disgraced by the act of his half-brother, 
son of his mother by a second marriage. In 1848 Von Rieseneck 
had been discharged from the army with infamy and condemned to 
imprisonment for betraying an arsenal into the hands of the enemy. 
He escaped from prison and fled to South America. Von Greifen- 
stein has a bitter hatred for him, based partly on his crime, and 
partly on the fact that he did not remove the family disgrace so far 
as he could by suicide. To neither wife nor son has he ever named 
him. The old wound is reopened when Greif reaches home on this 
visit. He has been taunted by a classmate with the facts, has denied 
their existence, and fought a duel to avenge the insult. Learning 
the truth, he abandons his hopes of entering the army and sees little 
before him but a life passed, like that of his father, in the forest. 

A few days later an amnesty is proclaimed for all political 
offenders concerned in the revolutionary movements of 1848 and 
1849, an d Herr von Greifenstein, sitting with his wife and Hilda's 
mother, reads out the news, which affects him profoundly. He 
dreads the return of Kuno von Rieseneck, though he believes that 
his offence is one not covered by the proclamation. The old wounds 
will be reopened by the presence of this living disgrace on German 
soil. Greif will be dishonored. Even his wife may come to learn 
the long-hoarded secret which shames his house. The old man's 
troubles become even heavier than they have been through all these 
years. 

Going back to the university, Greif presently makes the acquaint- 
ance of a man some years his elder, though still attending lectures, who 



54 6 TALK ABOUT NEW BOOKS. |J ul y 

interests him by his eccentric talk, and his dabbling with astrology. 
For a while the reader believes that Mr. Crawford is about to make a 
great portion of the interest of his story turn on necromancy and 
magic, and that Greif's new friend belongs to the well-known band 
of soothsayers and seers with whose arts all attentive novel readers 
must be growing familiar. But if this were at any time a serious 
part of Mr. Crawford's scheme, he soon abandoned it ; Rex's instan- 
taneously verified prediction on the occasion of Greif's first visit to 
him, which seemed like the initial one of a startling series, is fol- 
lowed by little or nothing more of the same kind. Even that one,, 
which he pretends to rest wholly on astrological calculations, is in 
part the outcome of actual knowledge, and in part a shrewd guess. 
For Rex, who is the son of Kuno von Rieseneck, and in constant 
communication with his father, knows himself to be Greif's cousin, 
and has deliberately sought his friendship, but with no intention of 
revealing their relationship. 

In due time Rieseneck returns, but only to find that he is not in- 
cluded in the amnesty, and that if he would preserve his freedom it 
must be once more by hasty flight. Greifenstein one day receives a 
letter from him to this effect, and asking for one night's shelter under 
his roof on the way to safety. If he would he cannot refuse, for 
hardly has the letter arrived when its author follows it. There is a 
brief, bitter scene between the brothers, which ends by an invitation 
to dinner, the assumption by Rieseneck of a false name for the night, 
and a warning to be off in the morning. Meantime it is necessary 
that he should be presented to Frau von Greifenstein, as she knows 
that a visitor has arrived. 

The scene that follows is dramatic only Mr. Crawford's skill 
prevents it from sinking into low melodrama. But, on the whole, 
he preserves the dignity of tragedy in a sufficiently trying situation. 
It is like this : Frau von Rieseneck, to whom a guest is a god-send 
in her solitude, has got herself up to look as fresh and fair as possible. 
She descends to the dining-room with the airs and graces of her 
youth to meet Herr Brandt. Meeting him, she recognizes Kuno von 
Rieseneck and is recognized by him, but neither shows a sign. It is 
not until, at table, Clara von Greifenstein, trying to break an 
awkward silence by addressing her guest, calls him by his 
own name in an access of nervous distress, that their previous 
knowledge of each other becomes evident to her husband. 
Even then he has no suspicion of the actual truth. When it comes 
it is damning. " I told you my wife was dead," says Rieseneck 
at last, " and I believed it. She is alive. She has lived to ruin you 
as she ruined me." Then he forces from her the confession that it 



1889.] WITH READERS AND CORRESPONDENTS. 547 

was she who caused his crime, then abandoned him when in prison, 
and afterwards, learning of his escape, had sent him their son and 
with him tidings of her death. Hugo von Greifenstein she had married 
with her eyes open, knowing him to be her husband's brother. 
Greif is a nameless bastard, and his mother only is to blame. The 
brothers look at each other. " What has this woman deserved ? ' 
asks one, and the other answers, " Death." Whereupon they jointly 
inflict it. " There was deep silence in the room," writes Mr. Crawford 
we fear that condensation is turning his pathos into bathos " then 
the stillness was broken by a gasp for breath and by a little rustling 
of the delicate silk. That was all." Then the brothers commit sui- 
cide after each has written a letter to his own son, and so created 
another batch of complications through which Mr. Crawford skilfully 
conducts the interested reader to the end of his long novel. If any 
moral lesson underlies it, it must, we think, be looked for in the con- 
trast between Hilda, Greif s wife, and Clara, his mother, who is also 
the mother of his friend Rex. " The mother of both was killed by 
the father of each," says Mr. Crawford quaintly. And the moral is, 
that by the woman that he loves a man is made or marred. Which 
may be true, and is at all events very cleverly put by Mr. Crawford 
in many a page and many a scene throughout this story. Hilda is 
very well conceived and so is Rex. 



WITH READERS AND CORRESPONDENTS. 

THE HISTORY OF A CONVERSION. 

You ask me to tell the story of my conversion. The bishop who received me 
into the church said to me after hearing it : " Never tell that story to others, for 
they will not believe it. I believe it, and that you have no choice but to follow, at 
all cost, the extraordinary way in which God is leading you ; but I tell you in 
advance, you will need all your courage. Your friends will despise you, and you 
will get little sympathy from the Catholics of this place, who will feel distrust 
of one who abandons her own religion ; but all the same, you must go on ; 
only ask God to give you the courage you will sorely need." 

The bishop's words came more than true, but the courage he bade me ask of 
God was not refused me, and it sufficed amply for my needs. And now that the 
lapse of time has proved that it was not an ignis fatuus of imagination but in- 
deed the light of God that led me, the story, it seems to me, may be told, since 
you ask it ; the same light that made it carry conviction to my own soul will im- 
press its trutf! upon others who may be in conditions to be benefited by it. 

My life has been like a road illuminated at night by lamps within whose 
circle of light all was clear, and by which I shaped my course through the semi- 
obscurity of the intervals until another lamp was reached. The first shines out 



548 WITH READERS AND CORRESPONDENTS. [July, 

very far back, when I was a little child playing about the floor, while my mother 
entertained callers. Even then the dual nature in me was in force a nature that 
on one hand gave me later the name of the wildest tomboy of the neighborhood, 
that impelled me to ride unbroken colts, to run, skate, dance, swim, climb to the 
most dangerous heights ; and on the other forced me to a constant undercurrent 
of thoughtfulness, of striving to find out the why and wherefore of all that came 
within my consciousness. I remember, on the occasion of which I speak, how 
trifling and petty the things that seemed so interesting to these grown people 
suddenly appeared to me, and the childish contempt they awakened. I said to 
myself that it would be a misfortune to grow up if there were nothing better to 
busy myself with. And it must have been then that the first distinct conscious- 
ness of God my Creator awoke in me, -for as I asked myself, What shall I do, 
then? the answer came, "Well, I am here, and I did not put myself here. Who- 
ever made me has the right to do with me what he pleases. He must have made 
me for some good purpose. I don't know what it is, but the only way I see is to 
use whatever power I find in myself for the best use I can discover." And then 
and there I resolved to model my own life on other lines, and to strive to make 
my influence not only good, but as far-reaching as possible. 

My parents were originally Baptists, but had afterwards drifted into another 
form of Protestant orthodoxy. The Bible became very early my favorite reading. 
As a young girl I used often to rise at half-past four in the morning to give more 
time to the study of it. I accepted it all as literally true, and used to pray with 
great earnestness, and often with what seemed great success, for what I wanted. 
It appears to me now that my faith was at once singularly vivid and singularly 
lacking in any emotional quality. I believed then as firmly as I do now in God 
my Creator, in Jesus Christ my Redeemer, in the Real Presence in the sacrament 
of the Lord's Supper, in the absolute right of God to make laws which it was my 
absolute duty to obey whenever they became known to me ; in judgment, hell, 
and heaven, and in the efficacy of prayer. But all these things had taken shape 
in my mind by processes of which I distinctly recall none but that of reading the 
Bible. The first time I remember being spoken to on the subject of religion was 
on the occasion of a "revival" at the "State Street Church," Portland, which 
our family attended. I think it must have been a Congregational church, but I 
never knew it by any name but that. Coming home to dinner one day my 
father abruptly said to me : 

" Molly, where do you think you would go if you should die now?" 

"To heaven," I answered promptly. 

"But why?" 

" Because ever since I knew there was a heaven I have always prayed God 
to save me, and Jesus said that whatever you ask in prayer, believing, you shall 
receive." 

"Yes," returned my father, "but he also said that he would confess those 
before his Father in heaven who confess him here on earth, and deny those who 
deny him." 

" But I don't deny him," said I. 

" Do you confess him ?" 

"How can I confess him? You wouldn't like me to go through the streets 
crying out that I believe in him, would you ?" 

" I think you ought to join the church." 

" I can't, because I haven't experienced religion." 

" Why don't you, then ?" 

I looked at him, amazed. " Why don't I ? Because I can't make myself feel 



1889.] WITH READERS AND CORRESPONDENTS. 549 

the way they say you must feel. I am willing to do anything, but that is all I 
am able to promise." 

The talk ended with his advising me to go down to the church and speak 
with the minister, which I did without delay. There were a good many at the 
meeting I attended, and those who had it in charge went from one to another, 
inquiring into their experiences and offering advice. When the minister reached 
me, he said : 

' Well, my little girl, and what do you feel ?" 
"I don't feel anything." 
"What are you here for, then?" 

' Because my father told me I had better come," said I, and then recounted to 
him what had taken place at dinner-time. 

' Don't you feel sorry for your sins ?" he asked when I had finished. 

'I try never to commit any," said I. 

'But you do sometimes, I suppose?" 

1 Well, whenever I think I have, I am very sorry, and resolve never to do so 
any more." 

" Why are you sorry? It is because you love God, isn't it, and don't want to 
offend him ?" 

" I don't love him; I don't know how to. I try not to disobey him, because 
I know he made me, and has a right to demand of me whatever he pleases, and 
it is wrong for me to refuse." 

The minister questioned me very closely, trying to elicit some sentiment or 
some profession of love to God ; but while I persisted in affirming that my will 
was ready to do not only whatever God commanded, but whatever I thought 
he would prefer, still I had no love for him at all. Finally he said : 

" But why don't you ask God to make you love him?" 

" So I have, but he never does. I suppose he isn't ready yet." 

" Well, ask again, then, and we will all pray for you ; for I don't see how we 
can admit you into the church if you say you don't love God." 

He appointed another meeting, which I attended, but still, in spite of all the 
prayers, in precisely the same state of mind. My case was talked over, and I was 
labored with, and, in especial, the difficulty of receiving me without proper senti- 
ments on my part was dwelt upon. 

"Well," I said at last, "if you can't receive me, you can't; but it is not my 
fault. I am ready to enter, and I will faithfully keep all the rules, but I can't 
feel, and I will not say I do when I don't." 

On that understanding I was admitted a few days later. So far as I was con- 
cerned, that step had no especial, or at least no sacred, significance to me. 
The idea of the church as the mystical body of Christ, into which I was about to 
be grafted by baptism, or even as the authorized teacher of all revealed truth, 
had never entered my mind. In a vague way I had taken it for granted that all 
the different sects which flourished in our city and elsewhere were segments of 
an invisible circle, all of which taken together made up the Christian body. One 
could enter whichever pleased him best or was the handiest. I looked on them 
as a sort of religious clubs, each including a number of people who thought 
pretty much alike, or who had social affinities, and to which all were eligible who 
were ready to keep the rules and pay their dues. Still, receiving communion 
was a serious matter to me. I do not recall that I was explicitly taught any- 
thing on this point or on any other. My Bible-reading had made me aware of the 
peculiar sacredness with which our Lord had clothed that sacrament, and that 
he had made its reception essential, so that I looked upon it as something that 



55 WITH READERS AND CORRESPONDENTS. [July,. 

was required by God to be done, and done in his own way. The thought was 
always vividly present to meat the communion season that "he that receives 
the Lord's body unworthily eateth and drinketh damnation " ; and with that 
came the recollection of the injunction : " When thou bringest thy gift before 
the altar, if thy brother hath aught against thee, go first and be reconciled to 
thy brother, and then come and offer thy gift." It was easy to rid my own heart 
of aught against my brother, but how to rid his of aught against me ? It was 
often a hard and complicated matter, but I did what I could about it, satisfied 
that nothing impossible would be required of me, and in much the same way 
that a Catholic prepares for confession. Still I found no happiness in it, except 
the peace of mind that follows an unpleasant duty done. I was amazed, though, 
now and then, that the difficulty of "first being reconciled to thy brother" 
seemed to be less serious to others than I found it. But I concluded that it was 
a perplexity known only to themselves, as mine appeared to be unintelligible to 
others, and anyway it was no affair of mine. 

After a while I was asked to instruct a Bible class, and though I was smaller 
and younger than many of the members, and remonstrated, yet, as my elders 
persisted in desiring it, I finally accepted it as a thing which God required of me, 
and for the fruits of which he would make himself responsible. I must have 
given out some curious views now and again, but the class seemed pleased. I 
mention the circumstance here because some of my pupils became so attached 
to me, and so much under my influence, that when I found my own safe 
guide in the one true church they showed so strong a disposition to believe that 
I must have good grounds for the step, and such a willingness to inquire for 
themselves, that on that ground the very unusual course of reading me publicly 
out of the sect I had abandoned was resorted to. It was done at a time when 
the church was crowded to the doors, my own father and brother being among 
those present, by the minister who had received me. He said it was his " pain- 
ful duty to publicly excommunicate Miss M B , as she had seen fit to 

unite herself with the Roman Catholic Church, with which we have no fellow- 
ship whatever." 

As to my conversion, it took place in this way: I had a friend, the daughter 
of a minister, with whom I was in the habit of taking early walks. Calling for 
her one February morning and finding her indisposed, I went on alone. My 
road took me past the chapel that then served as a pro-cathedral, and in going 
by I noticed that the door stood open. I do not recall whether or not I then 
knew that it was a Catholic church, but, wondering why it was open on a week- 
day, I strolled in. 

A few people were there already, and, as more followed, I waited to see what 
they would do. Presently the bishop, whom I knew by sight, came out and 
vested, and I mildly speculated whether he regarded this ceremony of dress as 
necessary, or only as a means to impress the people. I remained seated near 
the door, in the same state of superior-minded curiosity, and moderately inter- 
ested in what I had no idea of the meaning of, until the moment of consecration, 
when in one instant my whole soul was enveloped, in a flood of illumination, 
through which I knew the august mystery that was taking place and all the 
truths of the Catholic faith. I fell on my knees, and knew myself a Catholic. 

As soon as Mass was over I went to my friend and asked her if she would 
help me to procure books which would explain the ceremonies of the Catholic 
Church. 

" Why do you want them ? " she inquired 

"I am a Catholic" said I, "but I don't understand the ceremonial." 



1889.] WITH READERS AND CORRESPONDENTS. 551 

A look of terror came over her face. "Don't say that," she exclaimed, "or 
you will make yourself believe it is true." 

"I wish I could make myself believe that it isn't," I answered, "for heaven 
knows I don't want to be one ; but it is too late now. I know that the Catholic 
religion is the only true one. And as my father is fearfully prejudiced against it, 
I want to give him as rational an explanation of it as I can. I know what they 
believe, but I don't understand their forms." 

She tried to dissuade me, but my light had been too clear. It would have 
been as easy to convince St. Paul before Damascus that he had any option about 
his future course. Finding that I was beyond argument or persuasion, she finally 
proposed a plan that we carried out. We went to the church late on the follow- 
ing Saturday evening, I in a state of great fear lest I should be recognized and 
reported to my father before I was ready to explain and defend my position. 
My friend slipped into one of the confessionals when the people were nearly all 
gone, and asked the priest sitting there for books of instruction. He questioned 
her a little, and then said that if she were in earnest, she might come in daylight, 
on the next Monday, to the bishop's house, and they would be given her. This 
was another stumbling-block to me, for the house was in a street through which 
my father was likely to pass many times a day, aftd I dreaded lest he might see 
me. But as there was no other way, we went together to keep the appointment. 
We asked for the priest she had spoken with, but the bishop himself soon came 
into the parlor, and with a very severe expression demanded : 

"What is the meaning of this that Father tells me ? " And then turning 

to me, he said : " You are Mr. 's daughter, are you not? I hope this is no 

school-girl folly on your part, for your father is a friend of mine." 

Thereupon I told him just what had occurred to me during his Mass on a 
morning of the past week. When I had finished he said : "Do you mean to tell 
me that you know the truths taught in the catechism without having studied it ? ' 

" I don't know about the catechism," I answered; " I did not know there was 
one. I know what the church teaches, but I don't understand the ceremonies." 

He instantly rang a bell and asked for a catechism. When it was brought 
he opened it and began to ask questions here and there, which without the 
slightest hesitation I answered correctly. Several times he looked at me with 
surprise, and finally, closing the book, he exclaimed : 

" And you say you have never seen a catechism ? ' 

" No, bishop, I did not know there was such a thing." 

It was then that he counselled me never to repeat this story, saying that 
although he accepted it as true, yet it would be generally regarded as incred- 
ible. I obtained the books I needed, and, as it was Lent, I began to observe the 
regulations about fasting. 

From my account of the manner of my baptism by sprinkling when I joined 
the ' ' State Street Church," and my own interior conditions at the time, the bishop 
saw serious cause to doubt if I had ever been baptized at all, and decided to give 
me conditional baptism when I should formally enter the Catholic Church. The 
time until that day arrived was one of bitter anguish. My chief anxiety was to 
spare my parents and my friends as much as possible, and as obstacles multi- 
plied, the weary time of probation prolonged itself to months. For a time all 
my friends abandoned me ; if we met by chance, they crossed the street to avoid 
me, or became absorbed in other things, so that they did not see me ; I felt like a 
leper. My father, who shared the general belief that I would not take the final 
step, told me that the day I entered the Catholic Church I would cut myself off 
from my home and people. 



55 2 WITH READERS AND CORRESPONDENTS. [July, 

The day of my reception came at last. In the late afternoon I dragged my- 
self to the little chapel with a heart so heavy that I could hardly lift my feet. I 
felt as I should have felt had I been going to execution. No one was in the 
chapel but an old woman, and three stranger nuns who had come from Montreal 
to found a convent. They were sombre figures, all in black, kneeling immovably 
side by side, but I was glad they were there ; they would pray for me. I was 
not quite so lonely ! I think this must have been true baptism, for the moment 
the waters flowed on my head I felt all my torture vanish, and for the first time 
a flood of joy poured into my heart. As I had never felt happiness in religion 
before, from that moment I never ceased to feel it, except for one terrible hour 
of darkness long ago. Trials have not been wanting, but none has ever been 
able to interrupt the overpowering gratitude and joy that I am a Catholic. All 
else in life of pleasure or of pain has seemed of no account beside that one great, 
crowning treasure. 

TWO VICTIMS OF THE COMMUNE.* 

This is a very touching and edifying short account of the lives and deaths of 
two of the many victims put to death in Paris by the Commune in May, 1871. 
One, the Abbe Deguerry, the venerable curate of the Madeleine, was a self-sacri- 
ficing, holy, and devoted priest aged seventy-four years; the other, Paul 
Seigneret, was a very promising young seminarian preparing for the priesthood 
at the seminary of St. Sulpice in Paris. The older victim was shot, with five 
others, in the prison of La Roquette ; the younger one was massacred with a 
crowd of forty-six others in an open lot adjoining No. 85 rue Haxo. The model 
curate's companions in death were Mgr. Darboy, Archbishop of Paris ; Fathers 
Ducoudray and Clerc, S.J.; Abbe Allard, a missionary priest; and President 
Bonjean, an old and honored judge. With Paul Seigneret were massacred thirty- 
five soldiers who had refused to be enrolled in the ranks of the Communists, nine 
priests, of whom three were Jesuits, and two laymen. That part of this narrative 
which relates to the Abbe Deguerry was published separately at first, and had 
the honor of being crowned by the French Academy. 

The Abbe Deguerry, born at Lyons in 1797, was the son of a lumber-dealer, 
and at first thought to be a soldier, but afterwards made up his mind to study for the 
priesthood, and was ordained when only twenty-three years of age. He soon 
acquired celebrity as a preacher in his native city, and in 1827 was appointed 
chaplain to the sixth regiment of royal guards. This gave him opportunity to 
preach in Orleans, Rouen, and Paris, which his regiment was successively sent to 
garrison, and his fame as a preacher went on increasing. In 1829 Charles X. 
selected him to preach in the chapel of the Tuileries on Holy Thursday. In his 
sermon, which was very eloquent, he spoke with entire prudent candor and without 
attempting to flatter the then reigning power. The revolution of 1830 brought 
no relaxation to his zealous work. During the Lent of 1835 he preached seventy 
times. To his fellow-priests he was known as " the good Deguerry." In 1841 he 
was appointed head canon of the Cathedral of Notre Dame, and did much good 
in the parish; in 1845 he was made curate of St. Eustache. During the insur- 
rection of June, 1848, a mob of insurgents came to the church and beat its 
portals with the butt ends of their muskets for admission. Abbe Deguerry^ordered 
the doors to be opened, and, wearing his sacerdotal vestments and followed by 
his vicars, went out to meet the armed crowd which covered all the steps of the 
church. After making the sign of the cross he said to them in a gentle tone : 

* Deux Vittimts de la Commune. By Imbert de St. Amand. Paris. 



1889.] WITH HEADERS AND CORRESPONDENTS. 553 

" My children, what do you wish of me ? " The angry crowd became suddenly 
appeased, and one of the insurgents exclaimed : " All right, all right, Monsieur 
le Curd, we will defend your church for you.'; On the 4th of July following he 
was at the death-bed of Chateaubriand, and administered to him the last sacra- 
ments. At the close of that year he was appointed by Mgr. Sibour curate of La Made- 
leine. Abbe Deguerry, in the twenty-three years during which he had charge of 
that parish, inhabited by so many persons of wealth and social position, was as 
efficient as he had shown himself to be in the poorer and more democratic one 
which he had left. He was eloquent and forcible in the pulpit, to which he drew 
many and eager listeners ; he was devoted to, and beloved by, his parishioners, 
nearly all of whom he knew by name, and upon whom his influence was strong 
and beneficial ; he was the warm friend and valued spiritual adviser of the Con- 
ference of St. Vincent de Paul of his parish, and, above all, he was the great and 
loving friend of the poor. For them he was never tired of saying and doing. In 
1850 and 1852 he founded the Asile Ste. Anne, a home for one hundred and fif- 
teen destitute aged ladies who had known better days ; and the Petite ceuvre du 
Catechisme, a shelter, free of charge, for young girls, who, until they were twenty- 
one, received a Christian education and were trained to be good work-women. 
Had he not been prevented by his cruel death, he would have attempted to also 
found a home for destitute old men, and an asylum for boys on the same plan as 
that which he had founded for girls. The spirit which animated him is portrayed 
in the following maxims, which were found written in his breviary : 

1 ' Tout sacrifiet au devoir, et ne sacrifier le devoir a rien. ' ' 

" Etre toujours sincere dans ses paroles et ses actions." 

1 ' Aimer le travail et le rendre utile aux pauvres. ' ' 

' ' Prtftrer la simplicity a I'habilett. ' ' 

" Eire tres difficile dans le choix de ses amis." 

" Fuir les esprtts moqueurs." 

' ' Se dtfier de soi-meme et compter sur Dieu toujours." 

i 
Translation : 

" Sacrifice everything to duty, and duty to nothing. 

" Be always sincere in your speech and actions." 

" Love work and render it useful to the poor." 

" Prefer being artless to being sharp." 

" Be very particular in the choice of your friends." 

" Avoid persons of jeering disposition." 

" Mistrust yourself, and always place your reliance on God." 

His habit of kind tolerance led him in one instance to give a Jewish dealer in 
opera-glasses permission to sell his wares at the very entrance to the rectory. 
Twice, in 1861 and 1866, he preached the Lenten sermon in the chapel of the 
Tuileries in the presence of the emperor, by whom he was selected to attend to 
the religious education of the prince imperial. In 1861 he declined the honor of 
being nominated for the bishopric of Marseilles. Pius IX. having expressed an 
earnest desire to see him, he went twice to Rome, and was received by the Sovereign 
Pontiff with the most gracious and kind welcome, which he reciprocated by an en- 
thusiastic, tender veneration. When the completion of his fifty years in the priest- 
hood was drawing near he was advised by some friends to take a little rest. 
''Take a rest," he exclaimed, "why, I have all eternity for that!" His golden 
jubilee was celebrated in the Madeleine on the I9th of March, 1870, just a few 
months before the overwhelming disasters of the war with Germany and the siege 
of Paris. As he could not help by fighting, he tried to do so by prayer, and the 
excruciating agonies of mind which he underwent were eloquently portrayed in 



554 WITH READERS AND CORRESPONDENTS. I July, 

his letters written from besieged Paris during that period. They breathe the 
highest sentiments of love for his country, of deepest sorrow for the woes with which 
.she, and Paris in particular, were then afflicted, and the most lively solicitude for 
the souls under his care. After the revolution of the i8th of March, 1871, he had 
a presentiment of the coming crimes of the Commune. But after they had 
begun he showed no fear, and his energy seemed to increase in equal proportion 
with the danger. On Palm Sunday he inveighed against the sacrilegious dese- 
cration of the church of St. Genevieve. On the night of the 4th of April follow- 
ing he was arrested by a band of Communists, who cast him into the prison of 
Mazas. They allowed him only to put on his clerical dress and take with him a 
brass crucifix. During his stay there he maintained a most holy calm and 
resignation to whatever might, under God's will, be his fate ; to M. Plou, one of 
two distinguished lawyers who, supposing that he would be tried by court-martial, 
had offered to defend him, he said as they were parting : " My dear friend, if I 
could know that the shedding of my blood would be useful to religion, I would, 
on my knees, beg them to shoot me." On the 2ist of May he and the other 
hostages were transferred to the prison of La Roquette, and there, after having 
spent in all forty-nine nights and days in prison, he was taken out at eight o'clock 
in the evening and shot. Before dying, having been supplied with a consecrated 
host which his Jesuit fellow-sufferers had found means to convey to him, he had 
the happiness to receive holy Communion. President Bonjean the day before 
.said to Archbishop Darboy : " Monseigneur, I have spoken much evil of the Jesuits 
and persecuted them to the best of my power. Well, they have at last converted 
me, and Father Clerc has just heard my confession." 

His remains lie in a tomb in one of the crypts of La Madeleine. M. Thiers 
was then the chief executive power, and in spreading throughout France by tele- 
graph information of the crimes committed by the Communists, he specially 
mentioned the curate of the Madeleine as " the best of men." 

Paul Seigneret was born at Angers on the 23d of December, 1845, and his 
first fifteen years were spent at home surrounded by good Christian influences. 
He was afterward sent to school at Nancy, and his letters written from there to 
his family give evidence of promise and of great development of religious feeling. 
His next step was to spend two years at the Chateau of Dreneuc as tutor of the 
children of the Marquis of Dresnay. He then sought to carry out his vocation 
for an ecclesiastical life, and his first preference was to be a Trappist, but his con- 
stitution was too delicate to stand the hard work which is the rule of that order. 
After trying the Abbey of Solesmes as postulant and novice, he became satisfied 
that he could do most good as a secular priest, and accordingly entered St. 
Sulpice at the close of 1868. There at Issy he applied himself to his studies with 
great earnestness and piety, although he felt that his health was too delicate for 
him to live long. He was led to go to the Seminary of St. Sulpice in Paris, which 
had been reopened the i$th of March, 1871. His letters written during this 
period abound in piety and elevated sentiments forcibly expressed. After the 
civil war had broken out in Paris, on Sunday, 2d of April, the seminarians of 
St. Sulpice were urged by their superiors to leave Paris on the 5th of same 
month. Nearly all obeyed, but Paul Seigneret preferred to stay, and finally 
yielded out of a spirit of obedience to repeated requests to secure his safety. 
Having gone with a fellow-pupil, both wearing ecclesiastical dress, to the Pre- 
fecture of Police to obtain the needed permit to get away, he was enticed into a 
room, where a Communist officer, who, sitting at a table in company with a 
woman, was drinking, cursing, and swearing, informed him that he would be 
committed to prison prior to his being shot. Several other seminarians fell 



1889.] WITH READERS AND CORRESPONDENTS. 555 

into the same trap. He was imprisoned at Mazas until the 22d of May, when, 
along with other companions in misfortune, he was transferred to La Roquette. 
During the whole term of his imprisonment he wrote several very edifying and 
eloquent letters to his family and friends. These show his entire resignation to 
whatever might happen, and his readiness, nay, joy, to undergo martyrdom, if 
such were God's will. 

At 3 =30 on the afternoon of the 26th of May he was called to take his place in 
a procession of the forty-six other captives of the Commune already mentioned. 
These, headed by a canteen woman, and a Communist officer wearing a Garibal- 
dian costume, both on horseback, an armed agent of the Commune bearing a red 
flag bringing up the rear, moved on to their doom. The priests prayed as they 
went, and from time to time addressed pious exhortations to the soldiers con- 
demned to die with them. On the way an infuriated mob howled imprecations 
at them and cries for their death. After an exhausting march, and a half-hour's 
detention to allow the men in charge of the procession a chance to get a drink, 
they arrived at No. 85 rue Haxo. There a ruffian admitted them one by one 
into the vacant lot, buffeting each priest that passed him, and the killing began 
with revolvers, chassepots, and bayonets handled by men and women who had 
followed for the purpose. It lasted one quarter of an hour. The next day men 
came with knives to strip the corpses of their clothes and despoil them of any 
valuables they might happen to have on them. Paul Seigneret's face was easily 
recognized ; it had preserved the same expression of sweet modesty, serenity, and 
candor which had shone upon it during life. B. 



THE COLUMBIAN READING UNION. 

Under very favorable auspices the first list of books has been issued by the 
Columbian Reading Union. It will serve as a model for all future lists. The 
preparation of it involved much labor and research, for which we extend grateful 
acknowledgment to the Cathedral Library Reading Circle of New York, and 
to its founder, the Rev. Joseph H. McMahon. From the introduction we quote 
the following outline of the plan : 

" The preparation of the following list of Catholic historical novels was 
undertaken at the request of the Columbian Reading Union. Two ends have 
been considered : to give some useful information about the books, and to 
furnish lists of books suitable for collateral reading in connection with the novels 
themselves. It is hoped that many if not all the readers of this list will thus be 
induced to enter upon a more serious study of the history of epochs than is 
afforded by the perusal of an historical novel, no matter how great its merit. 

" The novelist is sometimes driven by the exigencies of a plot to take liber- 
ties with facts and to make statements that are not strictly correct. Historical 
study alone can give accurate knowledge ; the historical novel lends a charm to 
the study of history through the local coloring introduced in the attempt to 
reconstruct a period. As an aid to make us realize that people in far-off times 
were real men and women, whose ordinary lives were taken up with very much 
the same commonplaces that fill in ours, and that the heroic with them was not 
so ordinary as the historical perspective would lead the casual reader to suppose, 
the historical novel is invaluable. 

" Ben Hur, for instance, does more to make Christ real to ordinary people 
than many tomes of archaeological and exegetical study, although, of course, it 
is entirely dependent upon them for its truth ; and surely the ordinary reader 
will take more interest in the early church or in Gregory VII. after reading 



556 



WITH READERS AND CORRESPONDENTS. 



Fabiola or Bertha than if he had at once plunged into the pages of Darras. 
The historical novel furnishes that touch of nature that makes us realize our 
kinship with those men of eld, whose deeds monuments attest and whose lives 
history preserves. 

" The study of history expands our views and brings wisdom. The historical 
novel furnishes a charming introduction to that study, and we have cited books 
to be read together with the novels, trusting that the picture of an epoch fur- 
nished by the romance will receive its proper framing from an historical study of 
that epoch. 

" For a description of a most practical method of historical study we refer 
the reader to the remarks of the distinguished Catholic scholar, Brother Azarias, 
on the subject, in his article on " Books and How to Use Them" (CATHOLIC 
WORLD, July, 1889, to be published in pamphlet form by the Cathedral 
Library). 

" The genesis of the English Catholic historical novel will be found in the 
preface to Fabiola, and in a disquisition on the subject prefixed to The Pearl of 
Antioch. The comments and criticisms made in this list are excerpts from 
reviews contained in the files of THE CATHOLIC WORLD. 

"The list itself (which, by the way, makes no pretence to completeness) has 
been submitted to several distinguished Catholic litterateurs, and has met with 
their cordial approval. For the valuable suggestions and references made by 
them we desire to express our sincere thanks. 

"The list of novels is first given ; then follows a list of books of reference 
dealing with the period treated of; then some comments upon the works are 
made." 

We give below only the titles and authors, omitting the names of publishers, 
the prices, and the valuable comments : 

Group A. History of the Early Church. 



Fabiola. Wiseman. 

Callista. Newman. 

Dion and the Sybils : A Classic Chris- 
tian Novel. Miles Gerald Keon. 

The Ferryman of the Tiber: An Histor- 
ical Tale. Mme. A. K. de La 
Grange. 

Lydia. 

The Money God ; or, The Empire and 
the Papacy. A tale of the third cen- 
tury. M. A. Quinton. 

Cineas ; or, Rome under Nero. From 
French of J. M. Villefranche. 

Tigranes. 

Bertha. 

Irene of Corinth. 

WORKS OF GENERAL REFERENCE. 

" Darras History of the Church ; Alzog Universal History of the Church, 
translated by Pabisch and Byrne ; Brueck History of the Church, translated by 
Pruente ; Birkhaeuser History of the Church; Goodyear's Ancient and Modern 
History ; Labberton's Historical Atlas. For those who would wish more 
exhaustive histories Darras' complete History (in French) ; Rohrbacher 
(French) ; Mohler-Gams (German, translated into French by Belet) ; Hergen- 



Pearl of Antioch. A picture of the 
East at the end of the fourth cen- 
tury. Abbe Bayle. 

Palms. Anna Hanson Dorsey. 

Thecla j or, The Malediction. Mme. 
A. K. de La Grange. 

Martyrs of the Coliseum. Rev. A. J. 
O'Reilly. 

Victims of the Mamertine. 

lerne of Armorica. J. C. Bateman. 

The Vestal. Mme. de La Grange. 

Viva Perpetua. 

Last Days of Jerusalem. 

Eudoxia. Hahn-Hahn. 

The Vengeance of a Jew. C. Guenot. 



i88 9 .] 



WITH HEADERS AND CORRESPONDENTS. 



557 



roether (an English translation is preparing; an English translation of his 
Church and State has already been made). Cantu Universal History (Italian ; 
a French translation has been made). 



WORKS OF SPECIAL REFERENCE. GROUP A. 



The epoch as described in the works of General Reference. Stories from 
Church History, by Formby ; Little Book of the Martyrs of the City of Rome ; 
The Roman Catacombs, by Northcote (this is an abridgment of the great work, 
Roma Sotteranea, in three parts, containing the history, the Christian art, and 
the epitaphs of the Catacombs) ; Youthful Martyrs of Rome, by Oakeley ; 
Histoire des Persecutions par A Hard ; Whiston's Josephus ; Lives of the Saints, 
particularly of St. Agnes, St. Augustine, St. Monica, St. Jerome ; Pictures of 
the Fifth Century, by Hahn-Hahn ; Civilization in the Fifth Centtiry, by Freder- 
ic Ozanam ; Works of Thomas W. Allies : The Formation of Christendom, The 
Throne of the Fisherman, The Holy See and the Wandering of the Nations ; 
Montalembert's Monks of the West ; Mommsen's History of Rome ; Ranke's 
History of the Popes (these last two are by non-Catholics, and consequently to be 
read with caution) ; Cardinal Newman's Works, The Atians of the Fourth Cen- 
tury, Church of the Fathers, Development of Christian Doctrine, Historical 
Essays and Sketches, will be of great service to those studying the history of the 
early church ; the analysis of historical methods in the Grammar of Assent will 

be particularly valuable. 

Group B. The Middle Ages. 



Barbarossa. Historical novel of the 
seventh century. Conrad von Bo- 
landen. 

Bertha ; or, The Pope and the Emperor. 
McCabe. 

The Betrothed '(I Promessi Sposi). From 



the Italian of Manzoni. 
The Truce of God. A tale of the 

eleventh century. George H. Miles, 
Mathilda of Canossa. Bresciani. 
Florine, Princess of Burgundy. A 

tale of the First Crusade. McCabe. 



WORKS OF SPECIAL REFERENCE. GROUP B. 

De Maistre, Le Papc (also in English) ; Gosselin, Power of the Pope in the 
Middle Ages (French and English) ; Life of Gregory VII., Bowden (1840, rare) ; 
Life of 'Gregory VII. , Voigt (German, translated into French by Jager) ; Refor- 
mation of the Eleventh Century, Cardinal Newman, Essays, vol. ii. ; Dissertatio, 
Jungman, vol. iv. (Latin) ; The Work of Gregory VI L the Turning-point of the 
Middle Ages, W. S. Lilly in Contemporary Review, vol. xlii. ; Balmes' European 
Civilization ; Digby's Mores Catholici (new edition by P. O'Shea) ; Maitland's 
Dark Ages (non-Catholic) ; Works of Frederic Ozanam ; Janssen's great His- 
tory of Germany and the Reformation (in German; also a French translation) ; 
Life of St. Charles Borromeo, by Guissano ; Catechism of Council of Trent on Im- 
pediments of Matrimony j Encyclopedia, art. 'Plague." 

Group C. Later Epochs. 

Winifred: A Tale of the Jacobite 

Wars. Dacie. 

The Lion of Flanders. Conscience. 
Wild Times: A Tale of the Days of 

Queen Elizabeth. .Cecilia M. Caddell. 
King and Cloister ; or, Legends of the 

Dissolution. Stewart. 
The Yorkshire Plot. Stewart. 
Margaret Roper j or, The Chancellor 

and his Daughter. Agnes Stewart. 

VOL. XLIX. 36 



Willitoft; or, The Days of James I. 

Alvira, the Heroine of Vesuvius. Rev. 
A. J. O'Reilly. 

Constance Sherwood: An Autobiogra- 
phy of the Sixteenth Century. Lady 
Fullerton. 

The Old God. Conrad von Bolanden. 

The Castle of Rousillon. Mrs. J. 
Sadlier. 

For a King. F. S. Sharowood. 



5 58 WITH READERS AND CORRESPONDENTS. [July, 

SPECIAL REFERENCE TO ENGLISH HISTORY. GROUP C. 

Lingard's England ; S. Hubert Burke's Historical Portraits of Men and 
Women in the Far-off Time j Audin's Henry VIII. ; Life of Wolsey, Life of Sir 
Thomas More, Life of Bishop Fisher (all three by Agnes M. Stewart) ; Bridgett's 
Life of Fisher ; Life of Reginald Pole (Stewart) ; Gasquet's Henry VIII. and the 
English Monasteries ; Our Ladfs Dowry, Bridgett. 

Group D. American History. 
House of Yorke, The. A story of Ameri- liam Seton. 



can life. M. A. Tincker. 
The Romance of the Charter Oak. Wil- 



The Pride of Lexington. A tale of the 
American Revolution. Wm. Seton. 



Group E. Russian History. 



Iza. A story of life in Russian Poland. 



Kathleen O'Meara. 



Narka the Nihilist. Kathleen O'Mea- 



ra. 



Group F. Modern Rome. 



Saracinesca. F. Marion Crawford. 



Marzio's Crucifix. F. Marion Craw- 



ford. 

The space at our disposal will not permit the publication of the supplemen- 
tary information and critical opinions added to the list. Copies of the list itself 
will be forwarded to the members of our Union, and to all who have sent ten cents 
in postage. Duplicate copies may be obtained by remitting ten cents in postage 
to the Columbian Reading Union, No. 415 West 59th Street, New York City. 

Good words of encouragement have been received from the Philomathean 
Society, St. Mary's of the Springs, Ohio; L. W. C., StrafTord, Ontario, 
Canada; St. Thomas Reading Circle, Faribault, Minn.; T. F., St. Mary's 
Seminary, Baltimore, Md. ; E. A. S., Chicago, Ills.; S. P. S., Morristown, 
N. J. ; E. A., Boston, Mass.; M. H., Milwaukee, Wis. ; E. V. B., Hartford, 
Conn. ; E. A. M., Chicago, 111. ; J. J. M., Fonda, N. Y. ; F. L. T., Pittsburgh, 
Pa. ; W. P. U. and K. D., Ludington, Mich. ; J. T. C., San Francisco, Cal. 

We hope to get many communications showing what sort of recognition is 
given to the demand for Catholic books in the various public libraries. From 
information already received we feel assured that librarians generally will be 
thankful for the aid to be furnished by the lists of the Columbian Reading Union. 
We must rely, however, on the activity of our members to make use of their 
local knowledge in placing the lists where they will do good. Requests coming 
from reading clubs and literary societies are much more powerful than the appeal 
of one individual. Here is a letter which gives a glimpse of a small library in a 
Western State : 

" Our town is an old town of about 500 inhabitants. It has a library of 900 volumes, and one 
would naturally draw the conclusion that a very intelligent class of people belong to it. And 
comparatively they are, but oh, the bigotry ! 

" The library is not public, being only accessible to members'of the Literary Society, which 
numbers about 500 throughout the county. This society exerts an influence, though not 
directly antagonistic to us, yet all the worse for its stealth. It insinuates itself subtly, so that 
the influence is scarcely felt. My own observation convinces me of the dangers surrounding 
Catholics in coimtry places. The Protestants having the greater advantages both scientifically 
and socially, and Catholics being mortals as well as their neighbors, unite with the crowd and 
before long become lost in its midst. 'Tis just as impossible to preserve a few good apples 
among a basket of rotten ones as to expect the uneducated Catholic to be uncontaminated by 
constant intercourse of this kind. 

" I know of several families who have fallen away from the faith entirely and attend Protes- 
tant churches. They were brought to do this, I am convinced, only through ignorance. This is 
not the worst place, our priest tells us. 1 hope God may have mercy on the others so placed, 
and inspire every intelligent Catholic with zeal to take hold of this Reading Circle work, 
thereby uplifting his fallen brother or his children by the diffusion of good books which they 
have never seen. M. C. M." 



] NE W P UBLICA TIONS. 



559 



NEW PUBLICATIONS. 

THAT UNKNOWN COUNTRY; or, What living Men believe concerning Pun- 
ishment after Death. Together with recorded Views of Men of former 
Times. Springfield, Mass. : C. A. Nichols & Co. 

This handsome octavo volume of 900 pages contains 5 1 essays, by as many 
different writers, all Americans except eleven. In this number are included two 
Catholics, one Israelite, a few lay professors, a few from the ranks of Protestants 
not generally recognized as "orthodox," and the majority representing the com- 
monly received orthodox Protestant doctrine, with a more or less rigid adherence 
to the theology of the Old School. Besides the expositions which are professedly 
Christian, there are essays on the Jewish, Mohammedan, Chinese, and Buddhist 
doctrines. 

Professors and students ot theology will find this volume a valuable repertory 
of information concerning the beliefs and opinions more or less prevalent among 
Protestants, in respect to the final destiny of men, from strict Calvinism and 
Lutheranism to Universalism. A work like this cannot be accurately estimated 
without some weeks of careful examination. It appears, however, on the face of 
it, to have been prepared with great care, and by competent authors, selected by 
the publishers according to their best knowledge and judgment. 

We regret to see that Bishop Huntington, in his article, has again indulged 
in coarse and insulting language respecting the Catholic Church. Probably, few 
of his readers will approve of this style of controversy, which is happily, as a 
general rule, falling into disuse in scholarly works. 

DES JUGEMENTS Q'ON DOIT APPELER SYNTHETIQUES A PRIORI. Par le 

R. Dr. O'Mahony. Dublin : Gill & Son. 

Dr. O'Mahony is the rector of All Hallows College, and his present essay is 
a reprint from the report of the Catholic Scientific Congress of Paris, at which it 
was read and discussed. From such notices of the congress as we have seen in 
the papers, it appears that no memoir read before it excited more interest than 
this one. We have not received the report, and therefore cannot appreciate the 
full import of the discussion, having only the text of the memoir before us, which 
is necessarily brief and succinct. Every student of philosophy will see that its 
topic is one of prime importance. Dr. O'Mahony contends that there are intel- 
lectual judgments which are properly called synthetic and a priori. It might 
seem at first sight that this implies the acceptance of the philosophy of Kant. 
This is not the case, however. This able and interesting pamphlet cannot be 
duly criticised in a brief notice. For the present, we can only recommend it to 
the perusal of all who give their attention to philosophical questions. 

Later on, we hope to pay our respects to the distinguished author in a review 
by a competent hand. 

HENRY VIII. AND 'THE ENGLISH MONASTERIES. An attempt to illustrate 
the history of their suppression. By Francis Aidan Gasquet, Monk of the 
Order of St. Benedict, sometime Prior of St. Gregory's Monastery, Down- 
side, Bath. Vol. II. London: John Hodges. (For sale by Benziger 
Bros., New York, Cincinnati, and Chicago.) 

The worth of Father Gasquet's patient labors will be best appreciated by 



560 NEW PUBLICATIONS. [July, 

candid Protestants, for they have suffered most by the calumnies of the 
Elizabethan dispensation of modern heresy. They have been lied to and have 
believed the lies. No channel of information but was muddied with the sweep- 
ings of the royal cabinets of Elizabeth and her father. When the providence 
of God for unsearchable ends permitted love of country to be allied with Tudor 
tyranny for the extermination of England's old religion, the common masses of 
the people were victimized by fables. The self-imposed championship of the 
Catholic religion assumed by Philip II., joined to his persistent endeavor to 
make England a Spanish protectorate under the Duke of Alba, gave an air of 
civic virtue to hatred of Catholicity. This made every Englishman ready to 
believe any lie about the Catholic faith and to credit any atrocity laid to the door 
of his own Catholic forefathers. 

All England simply settled down into a uniform and unquestioned tra- 
dition that Catholicity was everything infamous, immoral, and especially 
un-English 

"a tradition," says Newman, " of nursery stories, school stories, public-house stories, club- 
house stories, drawing-room stories, platform stories, pulpit stories; a tradition of news- 
papers, magazines, reviews, pamphlets, romances, novels, poems, and light literature of all 
kinds, literature of the day ; a tradition of selections from the English classics, bits of poetry, 
passages of history, sermons, chance essays, extracts from books of travel, anonymous anec- 
dotes, lectures on prophecy, statements and arguments of polemical writers, made up into small 
octavos for class-books and into pretty miniatures for presents ; a tradition floating in the 
air which we found in being when we first came to the years of reason ; which has been borne 
in upon us by all we saw, read, or heard in high life, in Parliament, in law-courts, in general 
society ; which our fathers told us had ever been in their day ; a tradition, therefore, truly uni- 
versal and immemorial ; good as far as a tradition can be good, but, after all, not more than a 
tradition is worth. I mean some ultimate authority to make it trustworthy. Trace up, then, 
the tradition to its very first startings, its roots and its sources, if you are to form a judgment 
whether it is more than a tradition. It may be a good tradition, and yet, after all, good for 
nothing. What profit though ninety-nine links of a chain be sound if the topmost is broken ? 
Now I do not hesitate to assert that this Protestant tradition on which English faith hangs is 
wanting just in the first link. Fierce as are its advocates and high as is its sanction, yet when- 
ever we can pursue it through the mist of immemorial reception in which it commonly vanishes 
and can arrive at its beginnings, forthwith we find a flaw in the argument. Either facts are 
not forthcoming or they are not sufficient for the purpose ; sometimes they turn out to be imag- 
inations or inventions, sometimes exaggerations, sometimes misconceptions; something or 
other comes to light which blunts their efficiency and throws suspicion on the rest " (Lectures on 
the Present Position of Catholics in England, pp. 80 and 81). 

Father Gasquet's work brings those facts to light which clearly show the 
Protestant tradition concerning the monasteries to be invention and imagina- 
tion ; it proves that the " first link in the chain is wanting " ; it is a bill of par- 
ticulars of Newman's arraignment of one of many Protestant fables. The fond 
dream of Englishmen was that the monasteries were one and all sinks of corrup- 
tion, and that rough Henry was well fitted to deal with them, and dealt justly 
with them ; his very roughness was a congruous element in the procedure. The 
truth is, and is now fully enough admitted as it is indubitably established, that 
the monasteries were societies of men and women nearly altogether clean in 
their morals and godly in their behavior. They were robbed of their property, 
simply that, and now plainly that. The reason why the English monasteries 
were suppressed is the reason why your house is burglarized, because there are 
burglars and their " fences." The burglar was in this case Henry VIII. , the 
founder of the modern English church by law established ; his " fence " was the 
English aristocracy. 

In this second volume of his work Father Gasquet not only continues the 



1 889.] NE W P UBLICA TIONS. 56 r 

history of the dissolution of the lesser monasteries, but gives the reader a patient 
and critical study of those events which preceded and which gave some counten- 
ance to the suppression by royal authority of the greater monasteries. Henry's 
greed found pronounced and energetic rebuke in the popular risings against the 
calumnies and robberies of his "visitors." The people, especially those in the 
north, were too loyal as yet to countenance the wrongs which a later age was 
schooled to look upon as justice. But the struggle was an unequal one ; it only 
served to hasten the work of plunder and to invest its accomplishment with the 
horrors of bloodshed. To the story of these troubled times Father Gasquet has 
brought all those qualities of the historian which win the appreciation of the 
candid : patient research, soundness of judgment in the value of evidence, and 
that freedom from passion and prejudice which belongs to the presentation of 
historic truth. 

The work is well bound and printed, and enriched with a full index, many 
valuable appendices, and a number of maps illustrating the spread of the various 
religious orders throughout England during the reign of Henry VIII. 

GLEANINGS FROM SCIENCE. By Gerald Molloy, D.D., D.Sc. London and 

New York : Macmillan & Co. 

The gift of making science popular is not a common one among scientific 
men. Not a few of them seem to think it beneath their dignity as scientists to 
abandon even for a moment the purely scientific method. There are, of course, 
exceptions, and very illustrious ones. But the dry, technical, uninteresting 
treatment prevails, and many important and practical branches of scientific 
knowledge are overlooked, or even shunned, by educated persons for this very 
reason. It is quite certain that the great mass of intelligent minds will never 
wade through dry disquisitions, no matter what amount of useful information 
may be gained from their perusal. 

This is one of the great obstacles to the more general diffusion of highly 
instructive and useful scientific knowledge. Yet it is altogether possible to treat 
even the most rigidly scientific subjects in such a manner as to make them 
attractive and interesting to the general reader. Dr. Molloy's Gleanings 
from Science is an absolute proof of this. Here we have some of the most 
difficult problems in physical science presented before us in familiar and beauti- 
ful language and illustration. The theory of heat, for example, than which 
there is nothing in the whole range of scientific investigation more perplexing, is 
explained with a clearness and force that make it seem quite simple, 
identity of lightning and electricity is shown by experiments that are graphically 
described and copiously illustrated. The different kinds of electric batteries and 
their history, the storage of electricity and the principle of the dynamo and the 
. electric light, are all brought to the comprehension of the average reader, 
mystery of solar heat is probed, and the latest theory, with the evidences that go 
to sustain it, is unfolded to us. And finally the Alps are scaled, and the glaciers 
and their formations and movements are described for us in the most attractive 
manner. 

The simplicity and grace of Dr. Molloy's style is well known, but 
scientific lectures he seems to have surpassed himself, and we know of nothing i 
the way of popular science addresses that are superior to them. The theories 
advocates are the very latest, and his views, while perfectly sound, are advanced. 

His publishers have done him justice in the get-up of his book. 

THE HISTORY OF CONFESSION ; or, The Dogma of Confession vindicated 
from the Attacks of Heretics and Infidels. Translated from the French of 



562 NE W P UBLICA TIONS. \ J uly r 

the Rev. Ambroise Guillois, by the Rt. Rev. Louis de Goesbriand, D.D., 
Bishop of Burlington, Vt. New York, Cincinnati, and Chicago : Benziger 
Bros. 

The venerable Bishop of Burlington has rendered a great service to English 
readers by this translation. Father Guillois' book has long been held in high 
esteem in France as a most complete and instructive treatise on Confession. It 
contains many facts and testimonies that have never been hitherto collected in 
one book, and it cost the writer, as he confesses, long and laborious research. 
In its preparation he consulted over five hundred authorities. 

The work had its origin in a correspondence between the author and a 
young lawyer who had maintained that confession was a human institution. 
The author's aim, therefore, is not only to show the antiquity of its practice 
but to vindicate its divine institution, and to prove this not alone from historic 
evidence but from principles of human reason as well. There is a special 
chapter in which the ordinary objections are refuted, and another on the testi- 
monies of Protestants in favor of confession. The obligation, the utility, and 
the seal of confession also form the subject of special discussion. 

The treatise is sufficiently developed and yet sufficiently condensed to be 
of service to the general reader, while the clergy can find in its pages matter 
enough to furnish the outline of an excellent course of sermons or instructions 
on the subject. Bishop de Goesbriand has made the English translation of 
the book better adapted for such a purpose by dividing the matter into chapters, 
and not into letters, as it is in the original. He has, besides, omitted whatever 
was merely personal and local, and has added much new matter to what is the 
most important chapter of the work, viz. : that which treats of the institution 
of confession by our Saviour. 

OLD ENGLISH CATHOLIC MISSIONS. By John Orlebar Payne, M.A. Lon- 
don : Burns & Gates, Limited ; New York : The Catholic Publication Society 
Co. 

Mr. Payne's new volume is his third contribution to the elucidation of the 
past history of Catholics in England ; and those acquainted with the works pre- 
viously published will welcome this new volume. Like them, it is a work of 
original research. The papers upon which it is based are some seventy-eight old 
Catholic mission registers found by him in Somerset House. Here, by act of 
Parliament, all the original parochial registers of England and Wales have been 
transferred for safe keeping. But this act did not apply to non-parochial regis- 
ters, such as were the registers of the Catholic missions ; and those that have been 
found there seem to have been sent notwithstanding a resolution of the bishops 
to the contrary. The registers, therefore, examined by Mr. Payne form but a 
small portion of similar material scattered in the missions through England and 
Wales. 

In fact, of the seventy-eight registers Yorkshire and Durham are the only 
counties that are at all adequately represented, there being forty-five from the 
former county and twelve from the latter. The most Catholic county in Eng- 
land Lancashire has sent only one register. The incomplete character of 
these materials has, of course, rendered it impossible for Mr. Payne to give an 
exhaustive account of the position of the faithful in England as illustrated by 
their mission registers. We hope, however, that the interest and value of this 
specimen will lead Mr. Payne and other English Catholics to work out the vein 
which has been opened. 

The interest of the work, of course, is greater for the old English families. 



.] NEW PUBLICATIONS. 563 

However, there are many things which others will appreciate. The mission 
clergy often made their registers serve as a record of their experience in the 
ministry. For example, the pastor of Danby-upon-Yare enters in his register : 
" I assisted at the marriage of Joseph Marker, a Protestant, and Jane Errington, 
a Catholic. Marker afterwards broke his solemn promises about changing his 
religion ; never will I again take a Protestant's word about religion." Again, 
" The two children were re-baptized in church. O tempora, O parson, O shame ! " 
In the same register an entry similar to the following occurs no less than 
five times in fifteen years : " Michael Errington foolishly married a Protestant." 
The register of St. Mary's, Leeds, contains three curious medical prescriptions, 
remedies "against the Infection of Aer, sickness, etc.," " against wormes in the 
stomack," " against the graveill." The first would scarcely meet with the appro- 
bation of total abstainers ; it is : "A quart of brandy ; infuse into it an ounce and 
a half of Roman Treakle ; when incorporated drink a little glass. " 

In a very interesting preface Mr. Payne gives additional information as to 
the position of English Catholics. Directories in our times are for the express 
purpose of giving the addresses of the clergy and the churches. The " Laity's 
Directory," which seems to have been first issued in the year 1759, did not ven- 
ture for more than thirty years after its first publication to publish the name of 
a single living priest, nor to give a list of churches until the year 1793. Such 
was the state of fear and terror in which Catholics lived up to that time. In the 
year 1798 a singular admonition is given to women, " to forbear the unbecoming 
freedom of approaching the Communion with hats or bonnets." 

Two full and complete indexes are given of the name of every person and of 
every place marked in the registers. 

LECTURES ON THE HISTORY OF PREACHING. By the late Rev. John Ker, 
D.D., Professor of Practical Training in the United Presbyterian Church. 
Edited by Rev. A. R. Macewen, M.A. Baliol, B.D. Glasgow. Intro- 
duction by Rev. Wm. Taylor, D.D. New York: A. C. Armstrong & Son. 

The author treats in this volume of preachers and preaching, giving an his- 
torical summary of the one, and sketching methods for the other. It contains 
an embodiment of the usual rules found in treatises of the kind, well expressed 
and not abstractly given, but scattered here and there throughout the historical 
summary. 

The style is elegant and finished, indicating careful treatment of the subject 
assisting great natural ability. We cannot say that the author has added any- 
thing original to the literature for the training of preachers, but the book is 
readable and contains the elements essential to the study of the topic. 

We regret to be obliged to say that the author seems to be ignorant of the 
history of preaching in the Catholic Church, or else has purposely suppressed 
the truth. The best sermons of modern Christianity are those of the great 
French pulpit orators, Bossuet, Fenelon, Bourdaloue, Masillon, and others ; and 
this is admitted by many non-Catholic critics. The preaching of the mendicant 
orders in the middle ages is something absolutely unapproached by the preach- 
ing of any Protestant religious movement. At the present day the regular, 
average presentation of the truths of religion by the Catholic clergy to their 
people is more intelligent, more in accordance with the rules of persuasion, and 
more efficacious of results than that of the Protestant churches. It is the word 
spoken, not read ; it is the word of men in authority and certain of their doc- 
trine, not of professionals. 

Yet Dr Ker did not see in Catholic preaching aught to compare with the 
abusive tirades of Luther against "the vices of the clergy." It does not lead 



564 NEW PUBLICATIONS. [July, 

men to pod to rail at anybody's vices except those of your own hearers. 
Luther's preaching built up nothing. He was in his grave before Protestant 
Christianity had the form and substance of organized religion. Much the same 
may be said of many of Dr. Ker's model preachers. The preaching of the 
divine word is not to pull down but to build up. Christianity is positive religion; 
it is not protestant. 

The greatest of Protestant preachers was by all odds John Wesley, a real 
hero of the pulpit. And however great and fatal were his errors, they were 
mostly those of omission ; he preached a positive religion, and founded and 
established in his own day what he deemed to be a way of salvation. But the 
heroes of Catholic pulpit oratory are numbered by the hundred in every age of 
the church, and their saintly lives and the marvellous results of their ministry 
are tokens of a divine mission wholly absent from the greatest Protestant 
preachers. 

MANUALS OF CATHOLIC PHILOSOPHY. LOGIC. By Richard F. Clarke, S.J. 
New York, Cincinnati, and Chicago : Benziger Brothers. 

The highest praise that can be given to this manual of logic is that it is just 
what it claims to be in its preface that is, it fulfils the end for which it was 
written. In the words of the author, " The need of a Catholic text-book of logic 
in English, corresponding to those which are in general use in Protestant schools 
and universities, has been long felt on both sides of the Atlantic." To the 
English-speaking student the difficulties attending the study of logic in Latin are 
innumerable, and the attempts that have hitherto been made to give us English 
text-books, however praiseworthy, have been unsatisfactory, from the simple fact 
that they were not English. On the other hand, the charm of the style of John 
Stuart Mill renders his works all the more dangerous. It is the sugar-coating 
that makes palatable many a dose of poison, and we have not thus far been able 
to offer an antidote to the student unfamiliar with Latin. For this end the book 
before us will be of inestimable service. It is written in clear, vigorous English, 
and the attractiveness of the style will serve to make the study of logic interesting 
to many a student who has heretofore been wearied and perplexed by the 
unfamiliar, and therefore to him obscure, terms of the scholastics. The illustra- 
tions, so important in a text-book on logic, are numerous and well chosen. We 
would note, however, an exception on p. 236, when the author appears to make 
the extraordinary statement that " hares and rabbits are not mammals." Also 
the case against the Kantian doctrine of synthetic a priori judgments is weakened 
by an illustration. In the analysis (on p. 63) of the idea of a straight line the 
author gives as an example the distance from Fastnet Light to Sandy Hook, 
which is not a straight but a curved line on the surface of the earth. But these 
are minor points. The book is worthy of the highest praise, and we most 
heartily recommend it for adoption in our Catholic colleges. 

SWEET THOUGHTS OF JESUS AND MARY. By Thomas Carre, Priest of the 
English College at Douay. Edited by Orby Shipley, M.A. London: 
Burns & Gates ; New York : The Catholic Publication Society Co. 

This is announced as the first volume of a reprint of old English ascetic 
books, and is a selection of meditations from the original works published at 
Paris in 1658 and 1665. The author, Thomas Carre, though living in an age of 
excited controversy, devoted much time and labor to composing and translating 
spiritual books. He was also the director of a religious community founded in 
1633 by some English young ladies at Paris. 

Mr. Shipley has arranged these meditations in groups around the principal 



l88 9-] NEW PUBLICATIONS. 565 

, 

events in the life of our blessed Lord and the Blessed Virgin ; and, while pre- 
serving the thoughts of the author, has clothed them in words more in use at the 
present day than when first written. They seem well adapted to move the affec- 
tions of pious readers and at the same time convey solid instruction. 

THE FAIR MAID OF CONNAUGHT, AND OTHER TALES. By Kate Duval 
Hughes. New York : P. J. Kenedy. 

This is an excellent and entertaining book for the young. It tends to 
ennoble the natural character and to develop Christian virtue. 

THE GREAT COMMENTARY OF CORNEILIUS \ LAPIDE. The Holy Gospels 
and the Three Epistles of St. John. Six vols. Translated by Thomas W. 
Mossman, B.A., assisted by various scholars. London : John Hodges. (For 
sale by Benziger Bros., New York.) 

The commentary of Cornelius Van den Steen, better known by his Latin name, 
Corneilius a Lapide, is held in the highest esteem by students of the Holy Scriptures. 
It is one of the most learned and richest commentaries that has ever been writ- 
ten. The scholar will not, of course, find in its pages the weapons to meet the 
special lines of attack made by modern rationalism on the authenticity and ve- 
racity of the Holy Scriptures. The tactics of the disciples of the so-called New 
Exegesis are not treated in this commentary ; the special difficulties raised by 
Kant, Paulus, Eichhorn, Semler, Strauss, and Weisse are not considered. From 
an archaeological point of view, also, the student may not find in these pages the 
wealth of Calmet, but just as Calmet is regarded by many as the father of bibli- 
cal archaeology, so does the work of Corneilius a Lapide stand at the head of 
patristic commentaries. Quotations from the Fathers occupy a large portion of 
these commentaries and serve the author in bringing out the main object of his 
work, which is the literal interpretation of the sacred text. There are many 
digressions, but they are all made to subserve his general purpose and illustrate 
particular subjects, contain solid moral reflections, or throw a flood of light upon 
some dogma of religion. The value of these commentaries to the general reader 
is, therefore, at once apparent. They are a storehouse for the preacher and a 
valuable aid to the devout lovers of the Word of God among the laity. 

It is to the latter class that we commend the translation before us. The 
clergy, of course, will naturally prefer to read the work in the original Latin. 
But as an aid to the intelligent and methodical reading of the Holy Scriptures 
there is nothing better calculated for the laity than this translation of a great 
Catholic authority. Dr. Mossman has placed all those to whom Corneilius a 
Lapide has hitherto been a sealed book under a great debt of gratitude. He 
has placed within the reach of the laity the best means of making the Holy 
Scriptures not only profitable but most attractive and pleasant reading. The 
work of translation had doubtless, under God, the effect of opening his eyes 
to the full light of the truth, for he died in the bosom of the church. 

The commentary has been carefully translated into strong, idiomatic English. 
It is honest and sufficiently complete. Whatever of the original has been 
omitted is due to the exigencies of publication, and not from any intention of 
perverting the text, the omissions being all carefully noted. Here and there are 
evidences of distinctively Protestant phraseology, and the text is that of the King 
James version. But this is a matter of little consequence for the Catholic 
reader, who will use it, of course, for the commentary, and this he will find to be 
useful and fruitful in opening out to his mind all the beauty and the heavenly 
wisdom of the Gospels. 



566 NEW PUBLICATIONS. [July* 



ELEMENTS OF INFINITESIMAL CALCULUS. By Joseph Bayma, S.J. San 
Francisco : A. Waldteufel. 

We do not remember seeing an elementary work on the calculus more satis- 
factory than this. Of course it is impossible to ascertain what book is best for 
the average learner except by actual trial ; but this seems to leave nothing 
attainable to be desired in the way of simplicity and clearness. 

We believe the author to be quite right in dropping the theory of limits, so 
much in vogue with the English school. It will probably always have its advo- 
cates ; but however much it may be used in text-books, we venture to say that 
mathematicians, even those who favor it, forget all about it in actual investiga- 
tions and form in their minds substantially the same idea of differentials as that 
given in the introduction to this work. Practically they acknowledge it to be 
the true one. Learning the calculus by the method of limits seems very much 
like learning to swim by the aid of corks ; if one cannot learn in any other way 
it is certainly better than none ; but when one has learned in this way he has a 
good deal to unlearn. It is better to get hold of the practical and actual concep- 
tions of the matter at once ; and that these have a sound basis Father Bayma 
very ably shows in the introduction above mentioned. 

Another very commendable feature is the treatise on the application of the 
calculus to mechanics at the end. The number of those interested in pure 
mathematics will always be small ; the charm for most minds is in the applica- 
tion of the science to the physical problems of the universe, great and small. 
We have long been firmly convinced that the reason why so many are disgusted 
with algebra, and of course with all that follows it, is that they imagine it to be 
only useful for settling questions about foxes, couriers, and casks of wine; that they 
have not the faintest conception of the expression of general laws of nature by 
means of its formulas, and of the process of obtaining these laws through its 
means. No stage of mathematical study after arithmetic can be too early to 
place this idea, as far as possible, before the student's mind. That the chasm 
between the particular case and the general formula is a difficult one for the 
learner to bridge is not to be doubted ; but the introduction of the elements of 
mechanics helps in the work immensely, and the sooner it can be made the 
better. 

SERMONS AT MASS. By the Rev. Patrick O'Keefe, C.C., author of Moral 
Discourses. Third edition. Dublin : M. H. Gill & Son. (For sale by the 
Catholic Publication Society Co., New York.) 

These sermons have already been commended in these pages, but we are 
glad to note this third edition. It is additional evidence of their value, and sus- 
tains the verdict of praise and approbation they have received from the episco- 
pate and the press. They are models of clear and forcible preaching, and as 
such are worthy of the study of seminarists and those of the younger clergy who 
are not yet acquainted with their value. 

THE SEVEN WORDS OF MARY : Derived from St. Bernardine of Siena. By 
Henry James Coleridge, S.J. London: Burns & Gates; New York: The 
Catholic Publication Society Co. 

Our regret at not having received this little volume in time to recommend it 
for May devotions would be greater if it were not for the fact that we can sin- 
cerely commend its use at all times. Father Coleridge has gathered a few 
golden thoughts from the notes of sermons left us by the great Franciscan 
preacher, St. Bernardine of Siena. These thoughts he has developed easily and 






1889.] NEW PUBLICATIONS. 567 

naturally with a master-hand, and has given us a compact little book, full of 
theology and of devout love for the Virgin Mother. 

There has been a fruitful harvest of meditations gathered from the seven last 
words recorded of our blessed Lord ; but here we are reminded that there are 
seven words recorded of the blessed Mother of Christ, that they are words full 
of wonderful depth and virtue, and they show us how full she was of sevenfold 
grace. 

THE EPISTLE TO THE HEBREWS. By Thomas Charles Edwards, D.D., Prin- 
cipal of the University College of Wales, Aberystwyth. New York: A. C. 
Armstrong & Son. 

This is one of a series of a so-named "Expositor's Bible" prepared with a 
view to furnish Protestant Sunday-school teachers with a kind of running com- 
mentary of the Scriptures. 

As might be expected, the explanation of St. Paul's doctrine is based upon 
the fundamental principle of Protestantism that all Scripture is of private inter- 
pretation, each and every one being left, as supposed, to make out the truths of 
Christianity and the obligations of the law of Christ as best he may from reading 
the Bible with care and pious intention. Hence there is uo recognition in this 
volume of any divine authority, nor any human one either, to which the seeker 
for truth is or can be referred to decide what is or what is not the sense of Scrip- 
ture. While distinctly acknowledging and proving the "oneness" of the 
Mosaic and Christian dispensations as a sacrificial religion, the writer, as a Pro- 
testant, justly shirks the evident conclusion that this "oneness" of idea demands 
of Christianity the exhibition of some kind of sacrificial oblation as an act of 
worship. By what right, we might well ask, do Protestants take it for granted 
that God established a divine visible church under Moses and then utterly 
abolished that fundamental idea of a practical religion at the coming of Christ ? 
Where, then, is the " oneness" of the dispensations? Was not the sacrifice of 
Christ the true sacrifice of the Mosaic dispensation typified by animal sacrifices in 
the practical religious worship of the Jews ? Where is the Protestant Christian 
sacrifice " showing forth the death of the Lord " in religious worship as the Jewish 
sacrifices showed it forth and in a most striking and appropriate fashion? 

We would beg this pious author to once suppose that St. Paul had the estab- 
lishment of some such a Christian sacrifice in mind while writing this Epistle to 
the Hebrews, who had no idea of any other worthy kind of worship. We fancy 
he would discover in St. Paul's language a little more logical consistency than 
his interpretation gives evidence of. 

A, B, C FOR CATHOLIC CHILDREN. A series of Stories for Young Readers, 
with a word, now and then, to parents and grown folks. By the Rev. A. M. 
Grussi, C.PP.S. New York: P. J. Kenedy. 

What strongly marks this enjoyable little volume is the high religious 
motive inspiring its composition, of which every page gives evidence. This tone 
of affectionate pastoral interest which pervades it will deepen very sensibly the 
impressions which the ingeniously illustrated lessons in virtue it contains are 
calculated to make. It is just one of those "good" books which every boy or 
girl who is fortunate enough to get will read from beginning to end. Parochial 
libraries will need more than one copy to supply the demand. There is just one 
hastily penned, and we think regrettable, sentence in it, put in the form of a 
question on page 236, intimating that prayers for those who die apparently in 
sin are of little or no use. 



5p>'i 

568 NEW PUBLICATIONS. [July, 1889. 

' ::'.'"':" 
BOOKS RECEIVED^' 

Mention of books in this place does not preclude extended notice in subsequent numbers. 

S. ALPHONSI M. DE LIGUORI, EPISCOPI, CONFESSORIS ET ECCLESLE DOCTORIS LIBER 
DE CiEREMONiis Miss^E. Ex Italico idiomate Latine redditus. Opportunis notis ac 
novissimis S. R. C. decretis illustratus necnon appendicibus auctus, opera Georgii 
Schober, Congregationis SS. Redemptoris Sacerdotis. Editio altera emendata et aucta. 
Ratisbonae, Neo Eboraci et Cincinnati! : Sumptibus, Chartis et typis, Fr. Pustet. 

THE STORY OF WILLIAM AND LUCY SMITH. Edited by George S. Merriam. Boston and 
New York : Houghton, Mifflin & Co. 

THOUGHTS OF MANY HEARTS. By a Member of the Ursuline community, Thurles. Lon- 
don : Burns & Gates ; New York : The Catholic Publication Society Co. 

THE LITTLE FOLLOWER OF JESUS. A Book for Young Folks, based and built on The 
Following of Christ. First and Second Book. By the Rev. A. M. Grussi, C.PP.S. New 
York: P. J. Kenedy. 

THE POPE AND IRELAND. Containing newly discovered historical facts concerning the 
forged bulls attributed to Popes Adrian IV. and Alexander III. Together with a sketch 
of the union existing between the Catholic Church and Ireland, from the twelfth to the 
nineteenth century. By Stephen J. McCormick, editor of the San Francisco Monitor. 
San Francisco : A. Waldteufel ; New York, Cincinnati, and Chicago : Benziger Bros. 

THOM.E *A KEMPIS DE IMITATIONS CHRISTI. Libri Quatuor, Textum edidit, Consid- 
erationes ad cujusque libri singula capita ex ceteris ejusdem Thomae a Kempis opusculis 
collegit et adjecit Hermanus Gerlach, Canonicus eccl. Cathed. Limburg, Jur. Utr. Dr. 
Opus Posthumum. Friburgi Brisgoviae et S. Ludovici : Sumptibus, Herder. 

HOME RULE AND FEDERATION. With Remarks on Law and Government and International 
Anarchy, and with a proposal for the federal union of France and England as the most 
important step to the Federation of the World. By a Doctor of Medicine, author 
of The Elements of Social Science. London: E. Truelove. 

MANUALS OF CATHOLIC PHILOSOPHY. Moral Philosophy; or, Ethics and Natural Law. 
By Joseph Rickaby, S.J. Second edition. New York, Cincinnati, and Chicago: Benzi- 
ger Bros. 

CAMPION. A Tragedy, in a Prologue and Four Acts. By the Rev. G. Longhaye, S.J. 
Translated into English blank-verse by James Gillow Morgan. London : Burns & Gates ; 
New York : The Catholic Publication Society Co. 

LESSONS FROM OUR LADY'S LIFE. By the author of The Little Rosary of the Sacred Heart. 
London : Burns & Gates ; New York : The Catholic Publication Society Co. 

ESSAYS, CHIEFLY LITERARY AND ETHICAL. By Aubrey De Vere, LL.D. London and 
New York : Macmillan & Co. 

PRINCIPLES OF THE ECONOMIC PHILOSOPHY OF SOCIETY, GOVERNMENT, AND INDUSTRY. 
By Van Buren Denslow, LL.D. New York: Cassell & Co. 

MEDITATIONS ON THE 'VENi SANCTE SPIRITUS.' With Devotions for the Novena in 
preparation for the Feast of Pentecost. Compiled from various sources by a Sister of 
Mercy. New York and Cincinnati : Fr. Pustet & Co. 

" MARY OF NAZARETH." A Legendary Poem in Three Parts. By Sir John Croker Barrow, 
Bart., Author of "The Valley of Tears," "Towards the Truth," and other Poems. 
Part II. London: Burns & Oates; New York: The Catholic Publication Society Co. 

THE BEGINNINGS OF NEW ENGLAND ; or, The Puritan Theocracy in its relations to Civil 
and Religious Liberty. By John Fiske. Boston and New York : Houghton, Mifflin & Co. 




CATHOLIC WORLD. 



VOL. XLIX. AUGUST, 1889. No. 293. 



THE DARK SIDE OF CIVILIZATION.* 

IF we seek to lay the foundation of. the most " dismal " of all 
sciences the "economy' (as one might call it) "of crime" the 
materials will be found to hand in the Moralstatistik of Von Oettin- 
gen, which reached its third edition in 1882. Its title is unduly im- 
posing, since it contains the fouler side of the "moral" record only, 
being a register up to date of known criminality, profligacy, and im- 
morality, omitting, however, the vice of gambling in its many direct 
and indirect forms. Still, however defective or incomplete, and 
although not yet honored with an English translation, it should 
be in the hands of every man who shares in guiding the public life 
of a nation, since it covers with we believe as yet unchallenged 
impartiality a wide area of what we call civilization, and within it 
measures the volume and traces to some extent the progress of 
those elements which unquestionably tend to the dissolution of 
society. 

With regard, on the other hand, to the progress, if any, towards 
amelioration in the non-criminal majority it tells us nothing ; and 
further, as it can register the quantity of crime and wickedness with 
only approximate exactness, and with much less exactness its quality, 
so it can but indirectly gauge the amount and stress of temptation, 
and can hardly estimate at all the resistance offered to criminal 
inducements by the counter-pressure of moral principles. How far, 
therefore, that resistance, where those inducements are abnormally 
great, may counterbalance or more the amount of depravity mani- 
fested by those who yield to them, is still an open question. It is, 

* With reference to statistics of illegitimacy in Catholic Germany given in this article we 
refer the reader to THE CATHOLIC WORLD for September and October, 1869, and April, 1870, 
"Moral Results of Romanism," in which it is clearly shown that the illegitimacy figuring in 
the public reports is not moral but legal, being the fruit of marriages not recognized by the 
state. ED. 

Copyright. REV. A. F. HEWIT. 1889. 



57Q THE DARK SIDE OF CIVILIZATION. [Aug., 

in short, statical rather than dynamical ; somewhat as in a leaky 
ship the actual depth of water in the hold is no index to the energy 
put forth by the crew in keeping down the increase. Thus, there 
appears to be a widely-diffused class of offences which varies in- 
versely with the cheapness of food and fuel and with the abundance 
of remunerative labor. It seems clear that during a period of sus- 
pended industries or inflated food-prices the effort implied in holding 
out against such tension may indicate moral forces of more account 
than those in the opposite scale of facile yielding, just as the greater 
the virus of a pestilence the greater is the constitutional strength of 
those who resist or shake it off. 

To fit into environment is the law under which physical life 
flourishes ; to withstand it is often the only law compatible with a 
vigorous moral life. In reference to this physico-moral anti-climax, 
the most disheartening of Von Oettingen's pages are those which 
relate to great cities and densely-peopled areas. If proof be yet 
needed of the corruption of human nature whence springs that 
depravity which loads these statistical returns, what so cogent as the 
fact that a concentration of human beings becomes everywhere 
inspissated with criminality, that moral turpitude assumes its deepest 
dye precisely where there is the greatest number of those beings 
within arm's length of each other ? 

But the question may best be studied as a dry problem of arith- 
metic. I venture to present it thus : 

Let A. and B. be two average men placed in the closest mutual 
contact, so that the greatest possible amount of influence may be 
exerted by one on the other. Let the beneficent and maleficent units 
of character be supposed so nearly balanced as to be represented by 
two consecutive numbers, say, for convenience, by 10 and 9, leaving 
the question entirely open whether the beneficent units be 10 and 
the maleficent 9, or vice versa, and merely noting that they represent 
moral opposites. Then we might fairly represent the aforesaid 
maximum of influence exerted, by the product of A.'s 10 into B.'s 10 
and of A.'s 9 into B.'s 9 all the opposite units in each factor of char- 
acter by all of the corresponding factor in the other. The result is 
represented as iox 10=100 to 9X9=81, or nearly as 10 to 8. 

Next, suppose instead of two persons six to be exposed to this 
mutual maximum of influence ; the result will then be represented 
by the same units of each opposite factor multiplied sixfold, or 
iox iox iox iox iox 10 to 9X9x9x9X9X9 = 1,000,000 to 531,- 
441, which is little short of 2 to I. 

Similarly, if we took in 12 persons we should approximate to a 
ratio of 4 to i, and if we extended the process to 100 persons, since 



1889.] TME DARK SIDE OF CIVILIZATION. 571 

100 is rather more than 8 times 12, the result would be represented 
by very close upon 32 to i. 

Of course this theoretical maximum of mutual influence is never 
in fact reached, but still the tendency, which it embodies and illus- 
trates, is always exerting itself. This tendency is therefore to increase 
enormously the initial disparity by a ratio of constantly increasing 
inequality in proportion as a larger and larger number of human 
beings are thrown into closer and closer contact. 

It has been all this time left open which of the two initial factors 
of opposite character is the greater. Here, then, comes in the grav- 
est element of the whole problem. All that I claim for the above 
figures, be it remembered, is that while they exaggerate the actual 
facts they still show faithfully the tendency the more clearly, of 
course, through the exaggeration. 

It is clear, then, that if the original disparity of the opposite fac- 
tors had been in favor of the beneficent side, taking those factors as 
they exist in the average human individual, the result of closer con- 
tact of larger numbers must be in favor of the beneficent virtues. 
There must then be a constant tendency to minimize in great cities 
those elements of force and fraud by which men prey upon each 
other, and a natural approximation to their extinction. Is 
that so ? 

I have already noted the defects in Von Oettingen's moral calcu- 
lus, and we may allow any reasonable margin for those defects as 
qualifying his results. But when all reasonable allowance has been 
made, the conclusion to which the statistics of crime and immorality 
for great cities universally tend is that the evil elements of our 
common nature tend there to become more intense, not only 
absolutely, but relatively on the whole to the good. Indeed, 
the vice of gambling on the large and popular scale seems an 
extra special product of such assemblages of humanity. Where 
population is sparse and contact rare it seems incapable of flour- 
ishing. This, then, has to be superadded to all the more gen- 
eral forms of force and fraud above referred to. And the con- 
clusion is that the original disparity aforesaid must in the average 
individual *be in favor of the maleficent side. In other words, 
human corruption in this department of character stands demon- 
strated. In discussing this problem the sexual relation and the 
tendency to strong drink have been kept, for simplicity's sake, out of 
view. How fearfully when they are introduced the odds mount up 
in favor of evil, and all these various elements act and react upon 
one another in each human unit, and in the society which those 
units constitute, would bewilder calculation. But some glimpse of 
VOL. XLIX. 37 



572 THE DARK SIDE OF CIVILIZATION. [Aug., 

the results, and therefore of the tendencies, may be gathered from 
the following remarks. 

Postponing, however, for the present sampled details from great 
cities, we will glance at wider areas. Von Oettingen's tabulations 
seem to include, with an occasional glance at America, all European 
countries except Spain, Portugal, and Turkey. If a map of Europe 
were before us, shaded in proportion to the returns of known vice 
and crime, the darkest shadow would seem to rest exactly where the 
boast of intellectual light is greatest in Saxony, the very shrine of 
modern culture, the fortress of "free- thought" We will proceed, 
then, to put the figures due to Saxony, throughout the criminal cate- 
gory, before the reader first Let us begin with the marriage-tie 
.and the home, and trace down the dismal descent through each suc- 
cessive stage. We shall find that 

" Fecunda culpae sascula nuptias 
Primum inquinavere et genus et domos : 
Hoc fonte derivata clades 
In patriam populumque fluxit." 

In all Germany there are about one per cent, of marriages dis- 
solved ; but in Saxony the rate rises to 2.58 percent. And here 
the actual number of such was 1,049 m *$7 l > but in 1879 had grown 
to 1,728, of which we find 



In 1871 ? Dissolved at request J 475 
" 1879 \ of husband, . \ 754 



Dissolved at request $ 574 
of wife, . . . \ 994 



To those who believe that woman was created a wife, facilities for 
divorce are obviously her ready-made bane and natural ruin. 
Among the illuminati of Saxony that belief is probably rare, and 
therefore divorce is frequent, and the women there have been rush- 
ing upon their bane at a rate increasing by 70 per cent and more in 
eight years. 

As a proper pendant for divorce take next illegitimacy. This is 
set down for all Europe at 7 per cent, of the total births, but Saxony 
claimed in 1878-9 about 13 per cent ; and to show how the mar- 
riage rate dropped down as the bastardy rate rose, take the following 
short table : 

1834 1840 1850 

Marriage rate, 34-82 33.43 34.05 

Bastardy rate per marriage, . .61 .71 .78 

And here we may pause to notice that in the abominable kindred 
vice of abortion (so far as known, for it is probably the most occult 



1889.] THE DARK SIDE OF CIVILIZATION. 573 

form of crime) New England leads the world. As regards cases of 
crime in general, these increased from 1860 to 1879 in Massachusetts 
in the proportion of nearly 16.2 to 28, or over 70 per cent., while 
those due to drunkenness rose in the same State in the proportion of 
63 to 162, or by over 257 per cent, in the same years. The same 
State in 1860 divorced I couple in 51 marriages, but in 1878 had risen 
to I in 21. It is worth while, moreover, observing that as between 
the local populations, Catholic and Protestant, in Germany the latter 
.show a marked excess both as regards the number of divorces and of 
suicides ; while certain Catholic cities show a bad pre-eminence in 
their rate of bastardy. Thus in Rome (1871) illegitimate births were 
44 per cent, while a few years earlier Vienna and Munich were cred- 
ited each with 50, and Gratz with 62, per cent, of the total births. 
In Ireland, as compared with these figures, the same rate is wonder- 
fully small; and so in Rhineland, where it is given at a little over 3 
per cent, of the same. But here, as the comparison is between large 
areas (although including, of course, their cities) and cities only, 
further allowances must necessarily be esteemed due to the concen- 
tration of moral malaria in the latter. 

But we return to Saxony to note that in suicide it stands porten- 
tously ahead of all. To show this duly let us take the table of 
countries furnished as below. It will be observed that the groups 
of years noted there are not strictly identical, but are near enough 
for practical comparison. Thus, the annual average of suicides and 
rate per million of population was in 

1874-8, . for Saxony, .... 939 or 338 per million. 

1874, . ' . " Thuringia, ... 209 " 305 

1874, . . " Baden, .... 269 " 177 

1873-6, . " Wurtemberg, . . 303 " 169 

1874-8, . " France, .... 5,850 " 160 

1874-8, . " Prussia,* . Vf : /. 3,921 "152 

1873-7, . " Austria, .... 2,781 " 130 

1873, . . " England and Wales, 1,685 " 69 

1874-8, . " Italy, 1,052 " 38 

1871-5, . " Scotland, .... 115 " 34 

1874-8, . " Ireland, .... 94 " 17 

It is further stated that, taking in one year more, 1879, the 
number of Saxon suicides increased in 1874-9 nearly 56 per cent, 
(from 723 to 1,126), while the population was increasing only 7 per 
cent. The extremes of life, which elsewhere are exempt from 

* In the Prussian army an artificial sphere of life in which domestic influences are neutral- 
ized suicides are about seven times as numerous as in Prussian civil life. 



574 THE DARK SIDE OF CIVILIZATION. [Aug., 

suicidal mania, are found included here. Thus in Saxony there 

were 

1870-75 1875-80 

Boy suicides, 24 59 

Girl suicides, 2 10 

1854-78 1856-80 

Elderly suicides (50 to 70 years), . . 31.07 per cent. 31.3* P er cent. 

of total of suicides. of same. 

And, to sum up the ghastly tale, Saxony is said to have reached 
at the last census 408 suicides per million, while of the total of these 
70 per cent, die by hanging, simply as the readiest method, there 
being few households without a piece of rope. We cannot explain 
this frenzy against one's own life by stress of poverty and hardship, 
or how could Ireland be at the bottom of the list ? As a finishing 
touch, to connect the conclusion with the starting-point, divorced 
couples in Saxony furnish nearly five times as many victims to this 
mania as on the average they ought to do, showing the enormous 
proportion in which unhappy marriage contributes to self-destruc- 
tion, a proportion which is still, it is said, increasing. 

Criminals punished by law increased in the same country as fol- 
lows : 

1871 1872 1873 1874 1875 1876 1877 

11,001 12,766 13,089 15,144 16,318 19,012 21,319 

or nearly cent, per cent, in seven years, while the population's growth 
was seven per cent. only. Of these, the cases of assault and murder 
rose in the same years by 556 per cent, and those of rapes upon 
children most wanton foulness of all by 918 per cent, in seven 
years, while criminals under eighteen increased by 430 per cent, and 
child criminals by 100 per cent It is said that since 1876 a more 
searching criminal code came into force, but the above figures pro- 
gress uniformly up to the last, inclusive. Here and there another 
district of Germany is found to surpass Saxony in some one detail of 
its moral hideousness; e.g., in the Duchy of Mecklenburg one-third 
of the total of births were illegitimate in 1 868, and Bavaria was more 
lately ahead of Saxony in this rate of turpitude. But, taken all 
round, this garden of the Muses radiates moral pestilence at a rate 
which ancient Rome and ancient Corinth at their worst could hardly 
surpass. For an example of the laurel trailed in the common sewer 
commend us to cultured Saxony ! It may probably challenge at 
heavy odds any spot of equal area and population in the whole 
world, civilized and savage, for proficiency in the collective de- 
pravity evinced by divorce, illegitimacy, suicide, general crime, mur- 
derous assault, child rape, and child criminality. 



1889.] THE DARK SIDE OF CIVILIZATION. 575 

After this sensational picture of intellectual eminence wallowing 
in vice the rest of the record becomes tame by comparison. What, 
for instance, is so commonplace as the weary tale of drunkenness re- 
peating itself as a constant factor of crime wherever we take a 
sample of national morals? Then the next steady factor is sexual 
libertinism. Besides raising the tariff of general criminality every- 
where by recruiting the ranks of miscellaneous transgression from 
the born lawlessness of illegitimate and foundling children in their 
homeless myriads, it reproduces a yet larger balance of its own like. 
An ever-rising generation which knows nothing of the bare human 
sanctities of home life is ever prepared to trample on them anew. 
Easily overthrown by temptation, it renews its touch of the base 
earth whence it sprang, and when adult is ever an cetas parentum 
peior avis, ready to beget a yet more dissolute progeny. In strong 
drink we learn that Germany, which before 1879 had shown a 
slightly decreased consumption, rises 6 per cent in the later report 
of the years 1882-3. Per head of population, it drinks four times as 
much beer and three times as much brandy as France. Probably 
the wine-bibbing energies of the gayer nation may somewhat redress 
this disparity. But yet France had in forty-five years (ending in 
1875) increased per head its beer consumption by 150 per cent, and 
its brandy by 200 per cent, while " alcoholic insanity' in France 
had increased fivefold since twenty years ago. The dismal record 
seems to have been stimulated by the recent direction taken by law, 
allowing unrestricted competition to the venders of intoxicants, who 
before were under some restraint Thus, since 1873 Alsace-Lor- 
raine, profiting by this license, has increased by 50 per cent its 
drinking-saloons. Again, the consumption of brandy as against that 
of wine in the same region gives a fearful index. Its figures of wine 
to brandy are, in 1876, as 4 : I, in 1877 as 3 : I, in 1878 as 2:1, in 
1879 as I j : I, or doubled in four years. In Bavaria, the land of 
"beer, a single generation has seen the consumption of its staple 
liquid more than doubled. A German temperance (not total absti- 
nence) society has arisen since 1883 as a protest against the growing 
"bane. But its results are necessarily in their infancy as yet 

If, as has been said, seven per cent, of births represents the bas- 
tardy of Europe, that of the German Empire was in 1872-9, 8.6; in 
1879, 8.62, and in 1882 the census returns over one-ninth of the to- 
tal, or more than eleven per cent, as illegitimate. In some of what 
were the most corrupt states there has been in 1878-9 a movement 
the other way. Thus the figures of those years are for Wurtemberg 
11.31 and 8.51, for Saxony 13.41 and 12.39, for Bavaria 15.30 and 
12.39. It remains to be seen whether the improvement has been 



576 THE DARK SIDE OF CIVILIZATION. [Aug., 

since sustained. It is said that in some of these states laws which 
directly discouraged early marriages, and proportionately stimulated 
illegitimacy, have been lately repealed. As a further consequence is 
noted an increase of retrospective marriages, by which we understand 
the legitimation of what had been an unlicensed tie extended to the 
offspring. But on this point no data are quoted later than 1876. In 
connection with this branch of the subject is the death-rate of infancy, 
which stands higher for Germany than for any European country ex- 
cept Russia, and in Wiirtemberg rises to close upon forty per cent, of 
the births, while mortality among the illegitimate children doubles 
that of the legitimate. 

We have spoken of divorce in Germany as a whole, and in Sax- 
ony in particular. Its increase for three years in Prussia was nearly 
twenty per cent., or about four or five times that of the population. 
But the special nidus of this social bane is Switzerland for the Old 
World and (as seen above) Massachusetts for the New, in each of 
which it touches or approaches five per cent, of the total of marriages. 
The divorce rate of France, now probably a semi-infidel country, grew 
in eleven years (1866-77) by nearly fifteen per cent, with a population 
almost stationary. We noticed above that as between the Protest- 
ant and Catholic nations on the Continent the former run up the far 
higher score of divorces. Take a sample where the two are mixed in 
the same or nearly adjacent territories, as in Bavaria. There the lat- 
ter went in 1836-50 from 54 to 52, the former from 85 to 79. In 
Switzerland divorce forms, as we have seen, almost a domestic insti- 
tution. The Protestant to the Catholic populations of the various 
cantons are as 3 to 2 ; their divorces in 1879 stood as 8 to I, or for 
equal populations as 1 6 to 3. The experience of Alsace-Lorraine 
appears to confirm this. Society there would seem to have under- 
gone a violent displacement from its moral basis by the shock of con- 
quest. Divorces have since 1874-8 increased from 21 to 87, or more 
than four-fold in five years. Germany must on the whole count as a 
Protestant power; here are the fruits of the ascendency of " private 
judgment ' carried out without reserve in private life. It is the infi- 
del theory of society eating its way into the home circle. The 
" weaker vessel ' first shows the flaw. Womanhood finds a 
tainted atmosphere and withers down to animality. More damn- 
ing fact yet, the maximum rate of divorce follows that of edu- 
cation (so called) and aesthetic refinement. In the city of Berlin 
divorces more than doubled for both sexes in the thirteen years, 
1867-80, and find their most potent stimulus in art and literature. 
These refined professions furnish 2 per cent, of the marriage rate 
and 3 per cent, of the divorce rate. In France the tendency 



1889.] THE DARK SIDE OF CIVILIZATION. 577 

is yet more pronounced, where such "superior persons" marry 
as 2.4 per cent, and divorce as 3 per cent Is it not evident that if 
such formed the bulk of the population instead of a mere sprinkling, 
the social bond would be broken, the repulsive would overcome the 
attractive forces, and nothing could keep the social system from fly- 
ing to pieces ? Again, leaving divorce for the present aside, 2 per 
cent, of the French population are highly " educated," but nearly 5 
per cent, of the criminals are so. In Germany the liberal professions 
score from 2 to 3 per cent, of the gross census of employments, yet 
among their votaries crime went in ten years (1866-75) from 2.9 to 
4.7 of the total of criminals. In Russia 10 per cent, of the people, 
but 25 per cent, of the criminals, can read. As in the concrete results 
of art which fill the public eye on the stage and in the Pinakothek, 
France leads and Germany follows in a headlong license of carnal 
sensuousness, and the theatre is fed with carrion plots of criminal in- 
trigue. In Germany crime used to find a deterrent in home-life, and 
married criminals were a minority of the whole number. They are 
so, perhaps, still, but are increasing their proportion, especially in the 
great cities. There can hardly be a more formidable index of ten- 
dencies than this. It looks as if the swollen current of evil were 
loosening and shaking the foundations of society. As regards the 
classification of crime, offences against property in the eight old 
provinces of Prussia increased from 1871-7 by nearly 50 per cent. ; 
but those which imply education on the part of the offenders grew dis- 
proportionately. Thus, falsified accounts showed cent, per cent., frau- 
dulent bankruptcy nearly 150 per cent, official frauds over 350 per 
cent, of increase. Assaults with personal violence outgrew all save 
the last of these, showing 200 per cent ; of these, licentious assaults 
showed cent per cent, and as compared with 1868, 121 per cent 
The graver cases of such assaults, with which alone the higher courts 
deal, show up to 1878 the frightful increase of 300 per cent In Ba- 
varia, for seven years ending 1879, impure violence increased by 237 
per cent, and in Wiirtemberg by 218 per cent ; while in England the 
increase for twenty-four years was 67, and in France 63, per cent 
only. In the eight Prussian provinces, for 1871-7, duelling rose from 
3 to 35 cases; perjury, within the same limits of time and place, was 
more than doubled; breaches of public order grew by nearly 75 per 
cent, and counterfeited identity by nearly 250 per cent. The moral 
balance of Germany was disturbed by victorious war, as proved by va- 
rious items in the above list. In all classes of society men plunged into 
guilt to share more largely in the spoil. Nothing demoralizes a nation 
so fast as a glut of victories. There was all the loot of the French 
milliards to be scrambled for, and the auri sacra fatties seized on "the 



578 THE DARK SIDE OF CIVILIZATION. [Aug., 

Fatherland." Hence the sickening catalogue of sins of the balance- 
sheet and the clearing-house, as if fraud had bitten the very roots 
of national morality. Then came the usual results of over-speculation, 
the crash of commercial houses ; the circle of ruin widening, as in an 
earthquake, with every oscillation. Since 1882 something of a sad 
sobering has set in, and with improved harvests some forms of crime 
show symptoms of decrease ; but from 1874 to that year the total of 
Prussian crime had increased 10 per cent, or nearly half as fast again 
as the population. In Wurtemberg the criminal total grew in five 
years (1872-7) by 83 per cent. ; in Bavaria, by over 53 per cent. As 
an incidental feature of foulness, rapes of children increased in Wur- 
temberg in seven years (1871-8) nearly four- fold ; while in France, 
during thirty years, the increase was 350 per cent. All the more ad- 
vanced European countries have lately shown an improved record as 
regards juvenile crime ; but in Germany the improvement seems to 
come more slowly than elsewhere. We have already given the table 
of suicide, showing that its rate, comparatively low for Italy and the 
British Isles, leaps to three figures per million the moment it touches 
French or Teutonic soil. 

A glance at great cities shows a concentration of the forces which 
make for evil, confirming the calculation made in the earlier part of 
this article. We spoke a little above of married criminals as index- 
ing these victorious forces. 

1876 1878 

In Berlin male married criminals were . . 47.3 49.1 
" " female " " " . . . 42.9 52.9 

* 

In Hamburg licentious assaults grew from 20 to 48 in the years 
1872-79. In Paris it is stated that nearly half the birth-rate of 
the city finds its way to nurses who farm babies in the suburbs. 
This seems incredible, but there are the figures. No one pretends 
to reckon up, unless by conjecture, the ranks of female licentiousness 
in Paris, from the femmes a vingl-sous to the gilded obscenities of the 
higher demi-monde. And here whole families are found bonded to- 
gether in sexual sin, about 10 per cent, of shameless women being re- 
lated to one another. In Berlin prostitution has grown twice as fast 
as population. Marriage decreases as harlotry increases ; and half 
the population are old bachelors and spinsters, while of such mar- 
riages as there are over 5 per cent, end in divorce. There were there 
in 1867 divorces 1,127, an< ^ divorcees 2,464. In 1880 these had 
more than doubled. Hamburg, in respect t facilities for impurity, is 
said to be worse even than Berlin ; while Leipzig, Dresden, and other 
centres of " culture ' press very closely on these two cities in their 



.] THE DARK SIDE OF CIVILIZATION. 579 

foul record. Nearly 20 per cent, of the loose women in Berlin live 
in their fathers' houses and pursue their calling at the domestic 
hearth; while of the 730 brides there in 1880, 358 had forfeited the 
virgin crown. On the whole, great cities tend to loosen, and in ex- 
treme cases destroy, the feeling of home, and build the brothel, the 
household of lust, on the ruins. Such cities have an organized trades- 
union of impurity. Their agents play into each other's hands in 
the vile trade of procuring, decoying, concealing, and transporting. 
Jn Vienna alone 500 women are believed to be the agents of such 
work. Berlin is supposed to have 4,000 men of the vile trade known 
in our Hogarth period as "bullies," but abroad as "Louis." Com- 
pared with Berlin the prostitution of Paris and London may be 
viewed as stationary. The former city has increased its population 
greatly in the last thirty years, its prostitution twice as fast. The 
dense package of the former leads directly to the latter as a result. 
There are 171 houses in Berlin where 10 persons share one room, 
and 1 1 are reported with from 13 to 20 crowded into a single 
apartment 

As regards religions, we have noticed one remarkable sympathy 
in Protestant populations, viz. : that for divorce. Against this must 
be set such a fact as this : In Prussia the Catholics are a minority. 
The return for general crime shows one Catholic criminal for every 
2,750 of population, I Protestant for every 3,428, or a greater per- 
centage of criminality among the former. Another result which ex- 
cites reflection is that minorities of belief are, as regards sexual purity, 
relatively superior to the surrounding majorities. Thus Bavarian and 
Austrian Protestants, as also Saxon and Prussian Catholics, are from 
2 to 3 per cent, below the bastardy rate of the surrounding mass of 
opposite belief. 

But as regards the Jews, statistics tell an opposite tale. They are 
relatively isolated everywhere; but a Jew criminal is counted for 
every 1,760 of the Prussian people. Classified, they exhibit for crim- 
inal impurity an excess of 20 per cent. ; for fraud, 67 ; for perjury, 
136; for counterfeiting, 150; for forgery, 377; for fraudulent bank- 
ruptcy, 1,666 per cent. (!) beyond their quota in proportion to popu- 
lation. There can be no mistake, taking the figures as true, in the 

tendency which these reveal. 

" Rem, 
Si possis recte, si non, quocumque modo rem," 

describes it closely. And the hatred of Jews, of which we have 
heard so much, is largely, no doubt, a tribute of envy to their supe- 
rior proficiency in the unscrupulousness of commercial greed. 



580 THE DARK SIDE OF CIVILIZATION. [Aug., 

Infidel theories regarding man and nature, rising into barren and 
naked materialism, have acted with a solvent and mordant power 
upon Franco-German society, and we have here the results. It is in- 
teresting, especially in respect of suicide, but also of crime generally, 
in Germany, to compare the spread of the philosophy of despair 
pessimism. 

Precisely during the years which our table of suicide as above 
given covers, Von Hartmann, as the popular exponent of Schopen- 
hauer, was rising to the zenith of favor with the German public. 
Between 1870 and 1878 his best-known work went through eight edi- 
tions. It formulates the theory of which suicide in cold blood is the 
practical outcome a veritable " gospel according to Judas," preach- 
ing the noose and the precipice ; and among the highly educated 
circles, and the general higher education of great cities, finds its most 
numerous recruits. The renegade of all human hope of that influ- 
ence which " springs eternal in the human breast" Schopenhauer 
found the way prepared for him by the socialist, materialist, and secu- 
larist agencies, which had honeycombed the German mind for a gen- 
eration previous ; and, lastly, Von Hartmann found a yet more potent 
stimulus in the demoralizing results of the Franco-German war. 
Precisely where intellectual appetite is keene'st, in the country where 
you might pave the roads with the books and pamphlets published 
there, the philosophy of life-turned-sour has raised suicide, as was 
said a while ago of murder, to the sphere of the fine arts. More atro- 
cious in its renunciation of humanity than the epicureanism which 
said, " Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we die," this philosophy 
says, " Let us growl and snarl at our portion in life, and die to-day," 

and so, like 

" Sad Sir Balaam, curses God and dies." 

HENRY HAYMAN, D.D, 

Aldingham, England. 



1889.] I 79 I ~ A TALE OF SAN DOMINGO. 581 



I79IA TALE OF SAN DOMINGO. 

CHAPTER I. 
INTRODUCTION. 

SAN DOMINGO, naturally, is "The Queen of the Antilles." It was 
the boast of Columbus, when its virgin richness and beauty burst 
upon him, that he had found the original seat of Paradise. 

At the date of our story its sovereignty was divided between 
France and Spain. The French colony comprised the western por- 
tion of the island. It area was ten thousand square miles, or one- 
third of the whole. It embraced three provinces Northern, South- 
ern, and Western presided over by a governor-general. Cape 
Fran9ois, in the Northern province, was the metropolis, and, at that 
period, the Paris of the Western World. 

The colony had become a French possession under these circum- 
stances : In 1630 a small body of French and English that had 
established themselves on St. Christopher, one of the Windward 
islands, were ruthlessly driven out by the Spaniards. The greater 
part found refuge in Tortuga, a small island near the northwest 
coast of San Domingo, where they increased rapidly, and, as bucca- 
neers, became the terror of the neighboring seas. Predatory excur- 
sions soon gave them a footing on the western coast of San Domingo. 
Eventually the English buccaneers settled in Jamaica. The French 
portion continued to gain ground in San Domingo, where gradually 
they left off piracy and became planters. The French government 
now began to extend its care, appointing governors and otherwise 
aiding advancement. The colony in 1697 had greatly developed in 
numbers and importance; and the Spaniards, unable to cope with 
France, by the treaty of Ryswick formally ceded to the latter coun- 
try the western portion of the island. 

From 1750 to 1789 (the beginning of revolutionary activity) the 
growth of the colony was marvellous, reaching a height of prosperity 
unparalleled in the history of colonial possessions. The utmost effort 
had been made to stimulate and improve agriculture, and on every 
hand the teeming colony smiled with successful industry. Spread 
over it were a thousand sugar plantations, and three thousand of 
coffee, not to mention the cultivation of indigo, cacao, cotton, etc. r 
and the splendid tropical fruits yielded to trivial care. The narrow 



;582 1791 A TALE OF SAN DOMINGO. [Aug., 

plain of Cul de Sac itself contained one hundred and fifty sugar 
plantations, while the rising slopes, up to the Spanish lines, were 
clothed with coffee farms that appeared from the hill-crests as so 
many thickets. In 1789 the colony laded for France alone four 
hundred vessels. It supplied Europe with half its sugar. Its ex- 
ports were valued at $28,000,000. Numerous roads, spacious and 
most beautifully kept, intersected the country in all directions. The 
planters lived in jovial splendor, in the loveliest homes in the world. 
Many of them, enormously rich (hence the phrase, " as rich as a 
'Creole"), lived half the year in Paris in the most sumptuous style, 
attended, as a special act of legislation allowed, by retinues of slaves ; 
passing the winters in their beautiful West India homes. Others 
resided permanently in France, and spent all their revenues abroad ; 
yet, so vast were the capabilities of the island, that under a careful 
system of tillage, which " wrested from a most fertile soil the most 
immense wealth," riches multiplied as if by magic. The private lux- 
ury and public grandeur of the colony astonished the traveller, and 
its accumulation of wealth was a constant source of surprise to the 
mother country. 

In 1791 the colony numbered 40,000 whites, 450,000 slaves, 
with mulattoes and free blacks reaching some 24,000. The former, 
called Creoles or planters, as distinguished from a small body of 
European functionaries, were excessively imperious, impatient of 
restraint, jealous of wealth and honor, unbounded in self-indulgence 
a race of sybarites, yet hospitable and charitable. The mulattoes 
often bore characters that extorted respect, yet meanness of birth 
could not be forgotten. The whites looked down upon them scorn- 
fully, as upon a bastard race. They were denied important civil 
rights, and exposed to perpetual insult and humiliation. Many had 
been highly educated in France, and were cultivated men, opulent 
and large slave-owners ; and the privation of political and personal 
rights was borne with a gathering and ominous sense of resentment. 
The circumstances connected with the introduction of the negro 
slaves to replace the exterminated indigenes opens the blackest 
page in Spanish history. 

These indigenes as they appeared to Columbus, before they had 
been broken and debased by the Spaniard's cruelty were an inter- 
esting race. Reliable accounts represent them as being of lighter 
color than the inhabitants of the neighboring islands, and generally 
superior; singular in feature, but not disagreeable; timid and gentle 
in their demeanor ; in person not tall, but well shaped and active ; 
weak in body, incapable of much labor, short-lived, and extremely 
frugal. They possessed fair apprehension; were remarkably obe- 



1889.] I79 1 -A TALE OF SAN DOMINGO. 585 

dient to their rulers ; humble, patient, submissive in short, an unof- 
fending, peaceable, and loving race. Their character was in keeping 
with the native fauna of the island, which contained no beast of 
prey and no wild animal larger than a hare. 

The bold bearing of the Spaniards, their great size and strength, 
and splendid aspect in shining armor and on caparisoned horses, pro- 
duced in the minds of the simple islanders a reverential awe. They 
regarded them as having descended from the heavens, and gave 
them the honor due to superior beings. But the Spaniards proved 
ravening wolves, and, enslaving the Indians, worked them till they 
spat blood and the milk dried up in the breasts of nursing women.. 
Multitudes perished in the four chief mines, multitudes disappeared 
from suicide, famine, and superinduced disease. They fled, as they 
could, from the deadly oppression to dens and forest hiding-places, 
and the limestone caverns in the mountain-sides still reveal the bones 
of the wretched fugitives, who preferred death here by starvation to 
Spanish cruelty. Undefended by a superior physique, .the ordinary 
heritage and protection of underlings, the entire race sank almost at 
once from view, and at the end of fifty years there were not five 
hundred remaining out of the one and a half million who happily in- 
habited the island upon its discovery by Columbus. It is a horrible 
story against Spain, and out of these infernal wrongs has arisen the 
wrath of God to wither to this day the Spanish-settled portions of 
the New World. The inhuman treatment of the indigenes raised up* 
advocates. The most notable was Las Casas. He thought it less 
cruel to work negroes. These had greater powers of endurance, one 
negro being considered the equal of five Indians. To mitigate,, 
therefore, the sufferings of the latter, as well as to sustain the colony, 
now languishing for labor, the Emperor Charles V. adopted Las 
Casas' suggestion, and granted to one of his Flemish favorites a 
patent for the yearly importation of four thousand. This privilege,, 
sold to Genoese merchants, became the foundation of a regular trade 
for supplying the colony, a trade that continued to increase through- 
out the whole archipelago, where the negroes multiplied with pro- 
digious rapidity. 

At the date of our story the colony's social status was just of 
that character most favorable for the advent of a revolutionary spirit, 
and the political upheaval in the mother country found a ready 
response. In the discussions in France (1787-88) that preceded the 
meeting of the States- General each race became profoundly inter- 
ested. The doctrine of "Liberty, equality, and fraternity" was 
warmly endorsed by the whites yet for themselves alone. The 
mulattoes saw the opportunity for realizing political and social rights. 



584 I79 1 A TALE OF SAN DOMINGO. [Aug., 

The slave, too, became an interested listener, and began to feel the 
stirring of new aspirations. The latter at the outset remained quiet, 
though, as Rainsford observes, the efforts in their behalf by La 
Fayette, Mirabeau, and the Abbe Gregoire made their condition a 
prominent topic of conversation and regret in half the towns of 
Europe. The mulattoes, however, promptly insisted upon political 
equality, and at once arose between them and the whites a bitter 
struggle, which the vacillating course of home legislation now 
favoring one party, now the other prolonged and greatly intensi- 
fied. It was a most deplorable state of affairs, and tore the colony 
dreadfully. Both sides were in arms, and not unfrequently in bloody 
encounters. There were collisions, and then settlings towards re- 
pose ; then fresh aggravations and impending conflict, followed by 
recedings from the verge of war. Finally (May 15, 1791) the 
National Assembly passed a decree, warmly supported by La 
Fayette, Condorcet, Gregoire, and other leaders, granting to " the 
people of color ' full political rights. The tidings reached San 
Domingo in June, and fell like a thunderbolt from a clear sky. It at 
once consolidated all parties among the whites against the mother 
country. In a frenzy of rage they determined to reject the civic 
oath. They forced the governor-general to suspend the operation of 
the decree till they could appeal to France. In the Northern Pro- 
vincial Assembly (then in session at Cape Frangois) a motion was 
made to raise the British flag. 

The mulattoes, alarmed, yet exasperated to the last degree, 
gathered in armed bodies. The sentiment prevailed that one or the 
other party must be exterminated. War seemed inevitable, when 
the blacks (August 15), rising in vast numbers, suddenly appeared 
upon the scene, and within four days laid one-third of the Northern 
province in utter ruin. The whites, in consternation, now promptly 
granted civil rights to the mulattoes, and these (generally slave-hold- 
ers) turning against the blacks with all the zeal that the powerful 
interests of property inspire, peace appeared not improbable, when 
the fatal legislation of the National Assembly reached its climax. 
For, moved by the remonstrances of the planters' agents, who raised 
'the cry that the colony was about to be lost, and ignorant of the 
black rising and the accord between whites and mulattoes, the 
Assembly (September 24) repealed the decree of May 15. The 
mulattoes could not be persuaded that the planters had not instigated 
the repeal, lost all confidence in the whites, threw themselves into 
the negro camp, and a furious and fatal war ensued. Thus perished 
amid unparalleled scenes of uproar, butchery, and beastly out- 
rage this splendid colony, founded in the cruelties of the Spaniard 



1889.] I 79 I A TALE OF SAA^ DOMINGO. 585 

and the buccaneer. It was a day of blood for blood, of vengeance 
for those wretched indigenes whose merciless slavery these blacks 
had been imported to bear. It is amid these scenes that the follow- 
ing narrative takes its rise. 



CHAPTER II. 
CAPE FRANCOIS. 

Cape Francois, before its destruction by the revolted negroes, 
was a splendid city, the real capital of French St. Domingo. It was 
strikingly situated upon a small plain hollowed out from between two 
noble mountains (called Mornes by the natives) that rose from the 
city's limits towards the west and the north, the latter ending 
abruptly upon the bay, and giving a strong site to Fort Picolet, 
whose guns commanded the entrance to the harbor. A narrow pas- 
sage to the northwest, and a broader one southward, between the 
Western Morne and the bay, led to the celebrated " Plaine du Nord," 
whose fertile expanse was studded with thriving towns, smiling 
villages, and its far-famed coffee and sugar plantations. Thirty well- 
built streets crossed each other at right angles ; public squares were 
numerous and attractive, and in its air of graceful wealth and ele- 
gance the Cape, as it was commonly called, rivalled the foremost 
cities of Europe. 

It was on an August evening, 1791, in a handsomely furnished 
room at the Hotel de Ville a fine stone structure on la rue St. 
Louis, and facing the Place de Clugni that Charles Pascal and his 
son Henry were conversing in earnest tones. The elder Pascal was 
dressed with scrupulous neatness, in the style prevailing anterior to 
the Revolution : a square-cut and collarless coat, long-flapped waist- 
coat, stockings gartered at the knee and beneath the breeches, which 
buttoned over them ; low-quartered, square-toed shoes, with red heels 
and buckle. The hair was gathered in a queue, and a broad black 
ribbon, called a solitaire, encompassing the throat and fastened be- 
hind, completed the attire. He was a tall, spare, rather feeble-look- 
ing man, who had scarcely turned fifty, but one would take him to 
be far older. A settled shade of care or grief lessened the effect of 
regular and clearly-cut features. His manner was grave and courte- 
ous, yet firm withal. 

A year before a victim to the uproar and terrors of the times 
Charles Pascal had lost a beloved wife, nee Beatty, from one of the 
Carolinas, whom he had met in early life, during a business visit to 
Baltimore. Recent pecuniary losses had all but wrecked an abun- 



586 7/p/ A TALE OF SAN DOMINGO. [Aug., 

dant fortune. The first inroad was an outlay as endorser for his 
brother, who by injudicious investments and mismanagement lost 
his wealth, and was now living in Jamaica, whither he had gone with 
the hope of rebuilding his fortune. About the same time an oppor- 
tunity offered to buy at advantage a valuable plantation, which, as 
adjoining his own, he had long desired, and his bank-balance was 
well-nigh exhausted in the purchase. He soon realized his mistake ; 
for the revolutionary spirit in France, extending to St. Domingo and 
embroiling the whites and mulattoes, had paralyzed trade and 
spread ruin through the colony. The planters were especially 
affected. That the slaves should be indifferent to passing events was 
impossible. They had grown increasingly restless, insubordinate, and 
idle, and agriculture, that before had proven enormously remunera- 
tive, was now conducted at a loss. Under these circumstances plan- 
tation life had become exceedingly irksome to M. Pascal, when the 
confirmation of certain fears hastened a change he had been con- 
templating. Dismissing his salaried manager, and placing plantation 
affairs in the hands of his body-servant, Jacque Beatty, he closed his 
mansion, and had that morning domiciled himself at the Hotel de 
Ville. 

His companion was a well-proportioned young man of three-and- 
twenty, with light hair and clear gray eyes, inherited from his 
mother. Excepting the chin a feature so often deficient, but here 
perfect and an excellent set of teeth, his lineaments, taken singly, 
were not specially noticeable. The combination, however, was unus- 
ually attractive, and gave the impression of an amiable, intelligent, 
and resolute character. He had received in the best schools of Cape 
Fran9ois a finished commercial education, declining, in view of his 
parents' feeble health and being an only child, an opportunity his 
father offered to study at the French capital. For some years he 
had been agent for Thomas Harrison, a wealthy Englishman, who 
conducted in Baltimore a large trade in West India fruit. Since the 
outbreak of the revolutionary spirit his business had greatly declined, 
and Mr. Harrison, in appreciation of his efficient services, had been 
corresponding with him in reference to the transfer of the agency to 
Jamaica, and connecting with it a branch house for the sale of Ameri- 
can goods. He had but recently returned from an extended visit of 
inspection to Kingston, and it was a current on-dit that he was on 
the eve of removing thither. 

" You are doubtless surprised, Henry," said the elder Pascal as 
the former entered the apartment in response to a note from his 
father, " at my being domiciled here, and without a line to you of my 
intention." 



1889.] f?9 7 A TALE OF SAA? DOMINGO. 587 



' In truth I am," he replied, " though these are days of surprises." 
" Life at San Souci, Henry, had become a heavy drag." 
" I know that, sir, and have often advised your spending a por- 
tion of your time at the Cape." 

" I should probably have remained, however, had I not had 

i 

grounds for apprehending an outbreak of the slaves." 

" An outbreak of the slaves ! ' cried Henry Pascal with a 
mingled sense of astonishment and dread, for he knew his father pos- 
sessed a cool, clear judgment, and was little controlled by idle alarms. 
l " I trust, indeed, you are mistaken, sir." 

" I have such fears, Henry." 

" No such fear is felt here," quickly rejoined the son. 

" Ah ! Henry, the spirit of liberty is abroad, often, alas ! wild 
and irrational ; but its cry, for good or for evil, rings through the air. 
The Commons are seizing it in France; the mulattoes are struggling 
for it here ; may not the slave, too, strike to be free ? ' 

"Why, sir, I cannot but think and I express the common opin- 
ion that the negroes have been remarkably quiet under the extra- 
ordinary provocations to excitement they have received for the past 
two years." 

" I have noticed a tendency to deliberate," replied the elder Pascal. 

" And what inference do .you draw ? ' 

"That deliberation among slaves is the prelude to revolution. 
They are a vicious set, corrupted by their profligate, sybarite masters, 
and ready for anything." 

" Do you think," asked Henry Pascal reflectively, " if a revolt 
were precipitated, it could possibly be successful ? ' 

" Why not, Henry ? " , . ; - -.>ri 

" Because a black rising would at once consolidate the whites and 
mulattoes; and against the alliance what could the slaves effect, 
without wealth, education, or military means? ' 

" Upon the question of success- 1 might say, Henry, that there is 
a point where mere numbers must outweigh the united force of 
wealth, intelligence, and prestige ; that the blacks possess splendid 
physiques, are not deficient in personal courage, and stand nearly ten 
to one against whites and mulattoes combined." 

The elder Pascal had been speaking in a quiet manner, but at the 
same time in a manner so assured that his son could not avoid sus- 
pecting that behind his calm utterances there was something which 
had not yet appeared. Pausing a moment, he said : 

" My dear father, this is a matter of startling import. Let me 
hear the precise grounds for the fear you have expressed.' 

" They are briefly stated," he answered, counting off the argu- 

VOL. XLIX. 38 



588 //p/ A TALE OF SAN DOMINGO. [Aug., 



ments upon his fingers. " First : these days of uproar and change 
tempt to such a movement. Second : we have among us not a few 
recently imported Africans, who sigh for their savage freedom, and 
remember against us the wrongs done them, the kindred from whom 
they have been torn, and the horrors of the middle passage. Third 
and especially : the negroes are becoming convinced that the mulat- 
toes will triumph in their struggle for political rights, and fear the 
result upon themselves. Though apparently quiet, they have been 
on the alert and eager in their inquiries, and are as conscious of the 
general course of affairs as you or I. They have leaders who keep 
them informed. They see that the sentiment of the National As- 
sembly is becoming more and more Jacobin, and developing over- 
whelmingly on the side of the mulattoes ; and that, with the whole 
power of France exerted to enforce the I5th of May decree, the mu- 
lattoes must win. The mulattoes are known to be hard masters, and 
with the enlargement of their civil rights the negroes fear their own 
lot will become more straitened." 

" I must say, sir, that these grounds appear to me largely specu- 
lative." 

" Have you seen, Henry, the Abbe Gregoire's letter, addressed to 
the people of color upon the passage of last May's decree ? ' 

"Yes, sir." 

" It distinctly declares," continued the elder Pascal, " that the 
logical sequence of that decree must be the ultimate liberty of the 
blacks." 

" But why not believe with the abbe," rejoined Henry Pascal, 
" that emancipation will come by-and-by, and peacefully ? ' 

" Never, Henry, never ! African slavery is essential to the best 
interests of the colony, and has so grown into the body politic that 
it could not be torn away without rending a thousand fibres and 
letting out blood. The abbe's most unfortunate letter has already 
sped through the blacks as a fire among dry leaves. Besides," he 
added, bending towards his son and speaking in a lowered and 
intense voice, " I have had a warning from Jacque." 

" What, from Jacque ! ' exclaimed Henry Pascal, starting from 
his seat and suddenly showing the most profound interest. " Has 
Jacque Beatty had aught to say about this ?' 

" He has," replied his father. 

" What are the disclosures? " was the hurried inquiry. 

" Two days ago he sought me in private, and I will confide his in- 
formation upon the pledge of secrecy he required, as involving his life." 

" The pledge is given," said Henry Pascal ; when his father pro- 
ceeded : 



1889.] 179 x A TALE OF SAW DOMINGO. 589 

"Jacque's words were few but startling that a movement 
looking to revolt was widespread and well-organized ; and that 
the outbreak would probably occur within a few days. Inquiries 
could elicit no more." 

" God knows, it is enough !" ejaculated the younger Pascal. 

"The interview ended," continued his father, "with my obtain- 
ing permission to speak of his disclosures to you. Your duties often 
take you to the plantations, and, as you were unconvinced by other 
considerations, it becomes necessary to give you the benefit of this 
faithful negro's warning." 

Henry Pascal for some moments remained buried in thought, 
By all who knew him Jacque Beatty was held in the highest esteem. 
His fidelity to the Pascal family had been thoroughly tested, and 
Henry Pascal at once realized the gravity of the disclosure. 

" Would it violate the pledge," he asked, " to advise the authori- 
ties, on general grounds, to take steps against the danger ? ' 

" Not a finger, Henry, can be raised in that direction. The 
pledge to Jacque, that what he said should lead to no action beyond 
the personal safety of my family, is sacred. He has risked his own 
life for mine, and my word of honor shall be inviolate." 

" At least I can speak to Col. Tourner, and urge his coming to 
the Cape. The relations I bear to his daughter place his family 
within the conditions of the pledge. I must see him to-morrow." 

Further conversation followed in this direction, when the elder 
Pascal said : " There is another topic, Henry, pressing for consider- 
ation. You know the condition of my personal affairs. What real 
estate I own in this city is now all but valueless, and planting is car- 
ried on at a loss. Even if matters become no worse, the course of 
my affairs is directly towards bankruptcy. An outbreak of the 
negroes is upon us, and, whether ultimately successful or not, it 
would further depress agriculture, and I am broken up root and 
branch. A frail state of health at my age excludes the hope of 
rebuilding my fortunes, even should the colony prosper again ; and 
I must be looking towards you, Henry, for aid. Mr. Harrison's con- 
siderate offer for so, I think, I may call it is most opportune. 
Your business here has greatly declined, with little prospect of 
recovery. You speak English as fluently as French, and would have 
in Jamaica superior opportunities. I advise acceptance. I would 
go with you, and would leave this accursed island without a regret, 
did not your mother's dust rest within its soil." 

Henry Pascal was a noble son, full of warm sensibilities, and his 
father's tone struck deeply into them. His filial look and manner 
gave the true reply. His words were : 



590 ijyi A TALE OF SAN DOMIA T GO. [Aug., 



" My dear father, Mr. Harrison's proposal, as you are aware, I 
have been very carefully revolving, and shall now most probably feel 
obliged to accept it, though tender ties bind me to St. Domingo. 
Wherever I am my strength is yours, yours always." And of the 
spirit of these words Henry Pascal's entire life had been the faithful 
expression. 

Filial affection, how lovely a grace ! Alas ! that it is fading out 
in this material age. Parents are parents still, and encircle their chil- 
dren with pure, rich currents of love. But children know not parents, 
or, like dumb cattle, are mindful only of the hand that provides. 
Alas ! for our Christian name, that filial piety decays, and to-day 
finds its best expression in a heathen land. It was a late hour when 
Henry Pascal bade his father good-night, and left for his lodgings on 
la rue St. Simon. The elder Pascal soon retired, but it was long 
before he slept. A thousand thoughts thronged his mind. He dwelt 
upon his married life, upon its happy course, upon his wife's love ; 
and with the memory of her loss was mingled a sense of satisfaction 
that she was removed from the burden of such days. His mind ran 
back to his early years, to the home of his youth ; and the scenes 
and incidents illustrating his parents' tender care and his own con- 
duct towards them he recalled with all the freshness of yesterday. 
With a restful feeling his thoughts then turned upon his noble, gen- 
erous son. The angry cloud that had gathered so suddenly, and was 
about to burst upon the distracted colony, would complete, he knew, 
his financial ruin. But through the gloom filial affection was a star 
of hope that shone with a steady and cheering ray. 



CHAPTER III. 

LA PLAINE DU NORD. 

William Tourner came of a gopd English family. A wild, reck- 
less young man, and overwhelmed by debt, he fled his country and 
found refuge on the island of Tortuga, among the buccaneers a 
French and English piratical aggregate. A difficulty resulted in the 
separation of the nationalities. The English buccaneers became set- 
tled in Jamaica. William Tourner, for some cause, remained with 
the French section, which finally secured a firm footing on the west- 
ern coast of St. Domingo. There, like many others of the bucca- 
neers, he amended his ways, became a cultivator, and took to wife a 
Spanish woman, from which union descended the Col. Tourner of 
our narrative. 



1889.] ijyiA TALE OF SAN DOMINGO. 591 

Col. Tourner his former rank in a militia regiment gave him the 
title was a well-preserved, middle-aged man of character, taste, 
and cultivation. True to his English and Spanish origin, he mani- 
fested, save to his intimates, a somewhat reserved disposition, the 
more noticeable among the lively French Creoles. He was blunt of 
speech and impatient in temper, a frequent cause (to speak in a 
Johnsonian way) of his being disagreeable to others and a source of 
unhappiness to himself. Those who knew him well valued his worth. 
Good men are better than they seem to be, and bad men are worse. 

His fortune stood in his estates, which he cultivated with pride 
and successful care. Though far from being a voluptuary, as the 
planters generally were, he supported, under a stimulus from Madame 
Tourner, a superb and expensive establishment, and accumulated 
little out of his revenues. His Creole wife, nee Marie Andre, was an 
attractive and accomplished woman, free, affable, amiable, but over- 
indulged and worldly-minded, and a votary to the ostentation of 
wealth. A leader of fashion and a devotee to display, she main- 
tained an elegant style of living, and paid homage to riches as the 
means of gratifying her luxurious tastes. 

Their only child was a daughter, Emilie, a beautiful character, 
harmoniously blending the best qualities of her parents. Henry 
Pascal had won the heart of Emilie Tourner. The families lived 
near each other in the same parish, and were intimate. The children 
grew up, as it were, together, and had formed for each other an 
affection of the strength of which they were unconscious until 
separated by Emilie Tourner's going abroad. 

The disturbed condition of France induced Col. Tourner to send 
his daughter to England to complete her education. Eighteen 
months before she had returned in the fulness and freshness of her 
charms. Henry Pascal eagerly pressed his suit, and bore away the 
prize from a number of competitors. Marriage, however, had been 
deferred, first, by the death of Madame Pascal, and again by the 
disastrous conflicts between the whites and mulattoes, and the dis- 
tracted state of colonial affairs. Among those who had sought her 
hand was a young ex-proprietor, Louis Tardiffe, an accomplished 
man, but thoroughly unprincipled. Shrewdly perceiving at the 
commencement of revolutionary activity the probable course of 
affairs and depreciation of property, he had sold his valuable San 
Domingo possessions and invested the proceeds in foreign funds. 
Fifty thousand pounds in the Bank of England was for those days 
a substantial worldly guarantee. Though a rejected lover, M. 
Tardiffe continued to pay occasional visits to the Tourner family, 
where he was warmly received by Madame Tourner, with whom 



592 7/p/ A TALE OF SAA~ DOMINGO. [Aug., 

he had early ingratiated himself, and who admired him the more 
as the wisdom of his investments became more and more appar- 
ent ; and, generally, his solid wealth, when fortunes were every- 
where crumbling, made him a person of marked consideration. 
As colonial troubles multiplied he had had thoughts of quitting 
the island. A mingled sentiment of love for Emilie Tourner and 
revenge against his successful rival restrained him ; and in the 
waning fortunes of their families and his own secure wealth he 
began, as he thought, to perceive a lever which, worked with the 
address he felt conscious of possessing, might yet capture the one 
and crush the hopes of the other. He was now living in fine 
style at the Cape, on the interest of his investments, and in politics 
professed to be an extreme Republican. 

Belle Vue, the home of the Tourners, was five leagues southward 
from Cape Franois, on the road between Petite Ance and Doudon, 
and a league from the former village. The Pascal plantation, known 
as San Souci y lay a league and a half east from Belle Vue, on the 
road connecting Petite Ance and Grand Riviere. A morning ride 
in the West Indies is delightful. But to enjoy it one must be up be- 
times, for the sun rises at six, and his early ray is powerful. The 
morning after the conversation given in the last chapter Henry 
Pascal rose with the earliest dawn. He had slept but little. 
Thoughts of the impending revolt, of its possible success, of its 
disastrous effects in any event, of the distractions it would add to 
the already distracted colony, of his father's embarrassments, of 
his leaving San Domingo, of Emilie Tourner, filled his mind and 
banished sleep for hours. 

He dressed hastily and looked out. A rain for the wet season 
was at hand had fallen during the night. Save a stretch in the 
east, which was slightly reddening, the sky was still overcast; but 
the clouds hung high and moved lazily. In the upper air a few bats 
were skimming for the morning's meal. Otherwise, aH nature lay 
in repose, and looked freshened by the evening's rain. Having 
despatched a simple breakfast, he mounted the livery bespoke the 
previous evening, and, stirring the mettle of his horse, in a few 
moments lost sight of the Cape behind the Western Morne. 

His road lay through the finest portion of La plaine dii Nord, 
and the opening day disclosed, in its kind, a scene of unrivalled 
beauty. The French colonists adopted every means to stimulate 
and improve agriculture, and the best results were exhibited on 
this celebrated plain. On every side the deep, dark, rich soil was 
tilled with the utmost care, and with prodigious returns. Separated 
commonly by citron hedges studded with wild flowers that never 



1889.] ijgiA TALE OF SAN DOMINGO. 593 

lost their bloom, field succeeded to field, the sameness being relieved 
here and there by the plantation houses and the luxurious mansions 
of the proprietors and managers, approached through magnificent 
avenues, and all embowered in flora of varied and splendid descrip- 
tion. It is usual throughout the West Indies sometimes on the 
same plantation for cultivation to be carried on the whole year 
round. A ride, therefore, of a few miles often suffices as on the 
morning before us to show the cane at every stage of advance- 
ment, from the planting to the cutting. From the well-kept road 
shaded almost at every point by rows of lime-trees, or the graceful 
papaw or spreading mango, and with wild flowers innumerable 
decking its borders wide stretches of cane-cuttings, of the dense, 
dark-green middle growth, or of the cane in flower and waving its 
delicate lilac crest, came successively in view. And when the glori- 
ous tropical sun arose and spread his radiance over the scene the 
effect was magical The prospect was, indeed, eminently beautiful, 
and though Henry Pascal had ofttimes witnessed it, its influence was 
still fresh and irresistible, and dispelled for the moment the gloom 
into which his thoughts had plunged him. 

On entering the Belle Vue plantation he became conscious of 
more than ordinary activity and bustle. Here, as elsewhere, great 
columns of black smoke were rolling up from the sugar-works. His 
.attention, however, was particularly drawn to the gangs of slaves, 
who, under the field overseers, were cutting down the straw-yellow 
cane, and, though at all times a merry race, their unusual hilarity, 
while with boisterous song and sally they vigorously plied their 
work, indicated, as did the aspect of the fields, the " Crop Over," or 
what elsewhere is known as the " Harvest Home," when, the last 
-cane having been cut and sent to the sugar-house, each slave 
receives a quart of rum, a holiday, and a feast and dance prepared 
for them on the green. 

A gang of negro women near the road-side, in turbaned head, 
and osnaburg petticoat well tucked in at the waist, were especially 
noticeable for their queer song, the dolorous sentiments of which 
were in sharp contrast with their superb physiques and the abun- 
dant evidences of rich and joyous life around them. One served as 
leader, the rest joined in the refrain ; and the words Englished would 
run as follows : 

'" Sangaree da kill de capt'in, 

Oh ! Lor', he mus' die ; 
New rum kill de sailor, 

Oh ! Lor', he mus' die ; 
Hard work kill de nigger, 

Oh! Lor', he mus' die." 



594 1 79 1 A TALE OF SAN DOMINGO. [Aug.,. 

From the road entrance, framed in massive stone and iron, the 
approach to the Belle Vue mansion was through an avenue of 
superb mountain-cabbage trees, towering often a hundred feet. Be- 
hind these on either side, and some distance off, stood the negro 
cabins the better class rudely made of stone, roofed with a thatch- 
work of palm ; and all embowered among mangoes, Java-plums, 
sour-sops, sapadilloes, and other trees bearing sweet and pleasant 
fruit. The mansion an ample frame building, somewhat low for its 
area and simple in structure, yet possessing an air of elegance, with 
large, high-pitched rooms, wide, airy passages, and girt with deep gal- 
leries, protected by trellis-work on the sun-exposed sides occupied 
a central eminence in the midst of a green lawn as smooth as velvet. 
A succession of terraces formed so many blooming and brilliant 
circles. Fountains and swimming-pools, cut in stone, cooled the air. 
Winding walks, set in beautiful little shrubbery, and shaded by trees 
in graceful variety the feathery-plumed mountain cabbage, the 
stately palmetto, the waving cocoanut, the palm, the papaw, sand- 
box, and silk-cotton led through the spacious grounds, the open 
places of which abounded with flowers, rich in many colors, and 
splendid beyond description. 

Henry Pascal rode up, flung the reins to a valet, and a moment 
after was closeted with Col. Tourner. 

" I have ridden hard and early," he said, after the exchange of 
salutations, " to make a vital disclosure, but require a pledge to 
secrecy, and to no further action than the safety of your family may 
demand." 

" Zounds ! Henry Pascal, you all but take away my breath," ex- 
claimed the colonel, whose look of surprise at his visitor's unusually 
timed call and urgent manner was increased by his words ; " and 
you will completely do so, if you strap me up so tightly." 

" There is no alternative," Henry Pascal gravely answered.. 
" I have so received the communication, and must so transmit it." 

" But, in all seriousness, monsieur, do you deem it wise and safe 
to bind one's self thus absolutely, and in regard to an unknown and 
what you call vital communication ? ' 

"The conditions," his visitor answered, " are unyielding." 

" But, suppose," the colonel continued, " I should bind myself to 
a wrong ? ' 

' Col. Tourner," came the impressive reply, " I am here for your 
good. The pledge is required for the protection of a friend. It must 
be given, or I am compelled to return with the word unspoken, and 
the consequences upon your head." 

The colonel's scruple was advanced rather on the spur of the in- 



1889.] 179 u ^ TALE OF SAN DOMINGO. 595 

stant than as seriously entertained. It was a momentary resistance 
to a sudden and unlooked-for assault upon the will, and easily gave 
way, as reason asserted its office, before the high character and pecu- 
liar earnestness of his guest. He therefore added, after a moment's 
pause : 

" I yield the point. Let me hear what you have to say." 

" It is even this : Jacque Beatty reveals to my father that a negro 
insurrection is at hand, and has advised him to improve his chances 
of safety by a residence at the Cape." 

" Mon Dieu ! And what action Jias your father taken ? ' asked 
the colonel quickly, and with a changing countenance. 

" He is now domiciled at the Cape, twenty-four hours after the 
disclosure." 

"Dreadful! dreadful!' murmured the colonel. "God take 
mercy on us ! ' 

" But what precisely," he added, looking up at his visitor in an 
eager way, " did you gather from Jacque's communication that a 
plot is forming, or that an outbreak is actually at hand ? ' 

" The latter," was the reply. 

"And you have full confidence in Jacque's statement?' the 

colonel asked. 

"Implicit. You must know, indeed, that the circumstances of 
the colony for the past two years afford speculative grounds for 
supposing such an event highly probable; but Jacque's word is 
enough." 

" And you think," asked the colonel again, "there is no exagger- 
ation ?" 

" You know, monsieur, Jacque's character for prudence and 
fidelity. Not a doubt exists with me that an appalling calamity 

hangs over us." 

" Why, Henry Pascal," broke out Col. Tourner as a new thought 
struck him, "I feel confident my slaves would defend me. They 
are preparing to celebrate the 'Crop Over' this very evening ; and 
I have never seen them more contented, or enter so heartily into the 
spirit of the occasion." 

"That may be," his visitor rejoined ; " but do you suppose there 
are even chances that the defence would be successful ? 

" What, then, in Heaven's name, do you advise ? ' asked Col. 
Tourner, throwing himself back in his chair with an air of anxious 

uncertainty. 

" That you follow my father's example, and go with your family 

at once to the Cape." 

" Henry Pascal, you are right," said his host after a thoughtful 



596 /7P/ A TALE OF SAA T DOMINGO. [Aug., 

pause. " No other course is open. 'Twould be folly to risk my 
family by remaining here." 

" My God ! what a prospect ! ' he bitterly added, and in appa- 
rent soliloquy. ".I have been persuading myself that a brighter day 
would dawn ; but, should the slaves rise, no hope remains, at least 
for the present proprietors. The colony becomes a wreck, and all 
of us beggars." 

It was finally arranged that Henry Pascal should secure apart- 
ments for the Tourners at the Hotel de Ville, when the former, again 
pressing upon the colonel immediate action, bade his host adieu, to 
join Emilie Tourner, whom he had observed upon the lawn. 
Slightly above the medium height, with the graceful symmetry of 
outline in form and feature so expressive everywhere in tropical life, 
in the bloom of youth and health, her full, dark eyes beaming with 
intelligence and sensibility, Emilie Tourner, in her personal charms, 
.amply sustained the reputation for which Creole maidens are famous. 
Her character, in certain aspects, was a tropical exception. Possess- 
ing the simplicity, the enthusiasm, the purity of heart and warmth 
of affection characteristic of Creoles, she was without the ordinary air 
of languor and tendency to inactivity and indolence, born of an 
enervating climate and habitual dependence upon retinues of slaves. 
Whether due to her remnant of English blood, or to her English 
education, or to both combined, her mental fibre had in it a useful 
element of firmness and energy. If we add a sweet voice and a 
winning manner, the portraiture is complete. 

Some work to be done in the grounds preliminary to the " Crop 
Over" had required her direction, and she was returning as Henry 
Pascal approached, her graceful figure showing to advantage in the 
morning costume simple, as became the hour, yet elegant, as 
became the daughter of a San Domingo proprietor. They met with 
the recognition of lovers. Startled, as her quick eye read the trou- 
bled mind of Henry Pascal, Emilie Tourner was the first to speak. 

" Monsieur," she exclaimed hurriedly and with a look of alarm, 
" what has happened, tell me what has happened ? You seem 
worn and anxious as I have never marked before." 

" Be not disturbed, mademoiselle ; I slept little last night, and 
have ridden since the morning's dawn." 

" Are you not from San Souci ? ' 

"No, mademoiselle; I left the Cape at four." 

" Why, then, this long, early ride ? And I am told by the valet 
that your horse has been urged ! ' 

" The condition of the colony, mademoiselle, is sufficient cause 
for anxiety." 



1889.] . ijyiA TALE OF SAN DOMINGO. 597 



" Such, monsieur, has been its condition for two years and more. 
So much angry discussion, so much rumor and turmoil and conflict, 
so many sudden and wild changes all this has bewildered me. I 
am kept in a state of fearful expectance, and ready to start almost at 
my own shadow. Pardon my precipitancy. But your look, mon- 
sieur, and the circumstances of your visit, argue something unusual, 
and I must know what it is. It is far better, in these dread days, to 
know the worst than be racked with imaginings about some danger 
suspected." 

To this appeal Henry Pascal replied that she had conjectured 
correctly ; that there was something unusual ; and that in truth he 
had sought her to speak of it. He then pointed out, in a general 
way and at length, that the struggle of the mulattoes for civil rights 
was exerting the same influence upon the negroes that the struggle 
of the Commons in France had exerted upon the mulattoes ; that 
the slaves, in many quarters, were ominously restless and threaten- 
ing ; that he greatly feared they would very soon be another element 
in the disorder of the colony ; that the times were becoming more 
lawless, and plantation life more unsafe ; that his father, in conse- 
quence, had just changed his residence to the Cape; that he had 
come over to advise similar action to Col. Tourner ; that, as the 
result of the interview, her father had instructed him to secure apart- 
ments for his family at the Hotel de Ville, and that he earnestly 
desired her to stimulate her parents, so far as she could, to immedi- 
ate action. 

"I shall do as you wish me," she answered, pausing to reply, "for 
I confide in your judgment. Yet all this has about it a suddenness 
I cannot fathom." 

" I am forbidden now, mademoiselle, to speak my mind more 
fully. You shall know more hereafter. Trust me," he added in sig- 
nificant tones, "and heed my warning." 

She glanced at her companion, but said nothing. They.had been 
slowly walking along the shaded way, and having now reached a 
seat beneath a silk-cotton, occupied it in silence Emilie Tourner ab- 
sorbed in what she had just heard, her companion in the thoughts 
to which he was about to give expression. Presently he spoke, and 
with a touch of hesitation : 

"Mademoiselle, I begin to despair of the colony, and my 
thoughts have been running upon the Harrison offer." 

"O Henry!" she cried, her manner suddenly assuming great 
tenderness, and tears filling her eyes, "will you can you add to 
these new forebodings the prospect of your leaving San Domingo ? 

" Dearest Emilie," he replied, deeply touched, and speaking in a 



5 9$ ijyiA TALE OF SAN DOMINGO. [Aug.,. 

strain of equal tenderness, " it is my love for you that moves me. My 
own business, as you are aware, is sadly reduced. My father's fortune 
hangs by a thread. He has but his estates and slaves. Should 
trouble with the latter arise, the former are valueless. If the Harri- 
son offer justified it, I would ask you to name our bridal day, and 
take you with me from this distracted island." 

" Have you, then, decided upon going ? ' she quickly asked, 
catching at what she supposed might be his implied meaning, and 
turning upon her companion a searching glance. 

" I have not," he replied. " I was but speaking of what might 
become necessary." 

" Do you think your going probable ? ' she again asked. 

" Press me not, Emilie. I could not answer without speaking of 
matters upon which my lips are for the present sealed." 

She had regained outward composure, but deep and despairing 
grief was in her words as she replied : 

" My heart, Henry, has become lead, and sinks within me. I 
thought the excitements produced by the I5th of May decree were 
calming down, and danger disappearing. The darkness is gathering 
again, and seems deeper than ever. If there be light beyond, God 
help us to reach it ! ' 

" I will not disguise from you, Emilie," replied her lover, pressed 
with fears, yet anxious to cheer her, " what I regard as the extreme 
gravity of affairs ; but keep a brave spirit. The skies shall yet 
brighten for us. Hasten your father to the Cape ; you will there be 
secure, and we can speak together of these matters more fully." 

The horse had been ordered, the adieus were spoken, and Henry 
Pascal, mounting the gig, and urged by the energy of his thoughts,, 
was speedily at the Cape again ; for the road was excellent, the sky 
still somewhat overcast, and the day an unusually cool one. 

E. W. GlLLIAM. 



TO BE CONTINUED. 



1889.] AN OLD FRENCH DICTIONARY. 



599 



AN OLD FRENCH DICTIONARY. 

IT must have gone rather heavily with a man's disposition before 
it could occur to him, in glancing over the books of an old library 
that perhaps a dictionary would amuse him. And yet if this hap- 
pened to be "A Dictionarie of the French and English Tongues, com- 
piled by Randle Cotgrave. London. Printed by Adam Islip, Anno 
161 1," hope's flattering tale, for once, would not have deceived. For 
he could hardly turn over a few pages without having his attention 
arrested, and receiving perhaps pleasure, and instruction certainly. 
The copy we came across is a small, well-printed folio. On the 
engraved title-page, in a hand that seems contemporaneous with the 
publication, is written "Ex libris Gulielmi Fitzherberti," the name of 
an ancient English Catholic family, which often occurs in the annals 
of persecution. One member of it was the first husband of the cele- 
brated Mrs. Fitzherbert, the ill-used wife of George IV. As the 
date shows, it was when King Jamie was varying his favorite avoca- 
tions of hunting and theological controversy with occasional attention 
to the government of three kingdoms; in the year following the pub- 
lication of Bacon's treatise On the Wisdom of the Ancients, and 
while he was actually meditating his Novum Organon ; in the very 
year, perhaps, that witnessed the first performance of " Hamlet," in 
which one Mr. Will Shakspere acted the part of Ghost; a few 
years after Gay Fawkes' " Gunpowder Plot," and while the Pilgrim 
Fathers were still brooding over the wrongs which led to their ex- 
cursion in the Mayflower ; in short, it was more than a century before 
the Powers of Europe had begun to think that America was worth 
quarrelling about, that Mr. Randle Cotgrave gave his Dictionarie, 
the fruit of many years' labor, to the world. 

It begins, of course, with a dedication : " To the Right Honour- 
able and my very good Lord and Maister, Sir William Cecil, Knight, 
Lord Burghley." This is a grandson of Queen Elizabeth's minister 
of headshaking celebrity and multiform notoriety, and nephew of 
Robert Cecil, first Lord Salisbury, minister of James. It contains 
a dexterous compliment. After thanking his lordship for dispensing 
him from " th' ordinarie attendance of an ordinarie servant," in order 
to give him leisure hours to compile " this bundle of words," he 
remarks, " nor could I have bestowed them on a work of lesse use 
for your lordship, the French being alreadie so well understood by 
you and all yours." Next comes an epistle in French, "Au favorable 



6oo AN OLD FRENCH DICTIONARY. [Aug., 

Lecteur Frar^ois," signed by " Ton tres affectionne Patriotte T. 
L'Oiseau de Tourval, Parisien," with a triangle appended, which no 
doubt represents the gentleman's parafe. This is a somewhat bar- 
barous composition, destitute of the ease and neatness of modern 
French. In fact French had to wait for Corneille and Bossuet before 
it was tuned to classic modulations. The object of this letter is to 
recommend the Dictionarie to the French nation. One might 
have thought after this that the latter would be treated with respect 
in the course of the work. We are sorry, therefore, to find such 
translations as this : Une jambe de Dieu " So doe the canting, 
blasphemous rogues of France tearme a cankered, gangrened or 
desperately-sore leg." Probably Mr. Cotgrave's zeal leads him 
astray, as, no doubt, a desperately-sore leg was thus named, just as 
lepers were called " Pauvres du bon Dieu," on the principle " Whom 
God loves he chastiseth." There is little sectarian feeling displayed 
in this volume ; which is the more surprising as bigotry was rampant 
at the time it was written. Both Catholics and Puritans were being 
persecuted, and we should have expected some virulence from a 
member of the court party. But he seldom uses his innumerable 
opportunities. Only occasionally we find touches like Portiuncule 
" An indulgence obtained (as some report) by St. Francis of the 
Virgin Mary for the remission of all the sinnes of those who (en 
pay ant) came in at one and went out at another doore of a church 
dedicated unto her in Angiers." Or again in the proverb Reliques 
sont bien perdues entre les pieds de pourceaux " Reliques are quickly 
lost among the feet of hogs; (and may not one justly wish them lost 
rather than in the hands of such hogs as now-a-daies keep them ?) ' 
It is true he is not respectful to monks and friars, but so neither, 
as we shall see, was the very Catholic French nation which he in- 
terprets. 

His method is to append to each word an indiscriminate bundle 
of meanings ; then some phrases, and lastly some proverbs, in which 
the word occurs. In the first, one finds a curious exuberance of 
synonyms, often piled one on the other without adding anything to 
the elucidation. Thus, opening at random : Mollisse " Softnesse, 
suppleness, tendernesse, limbernesse, pliantnesse, easinesse, gentle- 
nesse, mildnesse, remisnesse, tractablenesse, wantonnesse, delicacie, 
faintnesse, efifeminacie, cowardise." Friander "To feed daintily, 
tast curiously, eat lickorously, picke the best morsells out of meat, to 
love or live on sweet and daintie acates." Bien avantage en nez 
" Nosed with advantage, well nose grown, having a gnomicall or 
goodly long nose." Or, again (to give an instance or two which 
may lend the charm of variety to our daily life) : Douillet " Bain- 



1889.] ^A T OLD FRENCH DICTIONARY. 60 r 

tie, tender, soft, effeminate, a milkesop, one that cannot bear a 
feather without breathing ; also quaint, curious, as nice as a nunne's 
henne." Coquard " A proud gull, peart goose, quaint sop, saucie 
doult, malapert coxcombe, rash or forward cokes, one that hath more 
wealth than wit, or is much more forward than wise." Benet " A 
simple, plaine, doltish fellow, a noddipeake, a ninnyhammer, a pea 
goose, a coxe, a sillie companion." 

One point that M. de Tourval commends in his friend's work is, 
that he has preserved many expressive French words, which have 
become antiquated because they " sembloyent trop revesches pour la 
douceur du palais de noz Damoiselles, ou grater 1'oreille delicate de 
Messieurs noz Courtisans de ce tems-cy." Perhaps among such 
desirable terms which offended the daintiness of the court damsels of 
a degenerate age would come Ferrementiporte " A wandering 
priest who ever carries about with him the ornaments of the Mass." 
We should fancy that if one of the heroic French missioners in Can- 
ada heard himself called a Ferrementiporte, he would feel like the 
lady whom O'Connell called a scalene triangle. Liripipionc- 
" Wearing the red hood of a graduate ; hence mellow, cupshotten, 
faithful to the pot, and therefore bearing the red-faced livery 
thereof." Metagrabouliser and Philogrobou Use, which mean, respect- 
ively, "to puzzle" and "to be at one's wit's end," are others 
equally melodious. 

The phrases and proverbs, also, which follow a word are some- 
times multiplied to an extraordinary extent. Under Droit we have 
no less than two hundred and thirty-seven phrases with explana- 
tions ; it forms almost a glossary of feudal rights, and very curious 
some of them are. Under Faire there are two hundred and thirty 
phrases and eleven proverbs. Under Grand four phrases and forty 
proverbs. Femme has six phrases and thirty-nine proverbs. Fol 
has forty-six proverbs, whereof the last is Tout est perdu ce quon 
donne a fol " All that is given to a foole is cast away; (whereupon 
some critick will perhaps conclude that all the labour bestowed on 
this word hath been misbestowed.)" 

Latin words oddly intrude at times in some phrases. Thus, in 
the sixteenth century, if you wanted to inquire after a man's olive- 
branches you would say : Comment se portent vos petits populos ? 
Vous en saurez le tu autem, means" You shall know the point, head 
or knot of the matter, or you shall understand all the storie, the 
whole matter itselfe." Very likely this comes from the conclusion of 
the lessons in the Canonical office " tu autem Domine," etc., so that 
to know the tu autem was to know a thing from beginning to end. 
Quand oportet vient en place il riest rien qui ne se face "That which 



<5o2 AN OLD FRENCH DICTIONARY. [Aug. 

must be will be ; absolute authoritie, or urgent necessitie, are excel- 
lent workmen." Tu auras miserere jusqii a vitulos^ is a threat that 
would hardly frighten our modern French atheists ; yet it means : 
''Thou shalt be soundly whipped." Formerly it was a common 
penance in monasteries, even for small faults, to make a man strip 
.and receive the discipline. This process was timed by the recitation 
of psalm 1., " Miserere." Now, vitulos is the last word of the psalm, 
,so that un miserere jusqu a vitulos indicates a prolonged execution. 
Le retour de Matines is also, according to Mr. Cotgrave, a monastic 
phrase ; it is " A mischief done in the darke or at unawares ; (from 
the customes of Friers, who commonly make choyce of that obscure 
season for the surprising and thumping their hated companions.) ' 

For the explanation of some phrases we have to fall back on his- 
tory. Les cousteaux Jean Colot, Vun vaut Vautre " Like our: 
Neither barrell better herring. From the name of a certaine merie 
Artificer in Troyes who ordinarily wore about him three knives in 
one sheath, all not worth a good sheath." Pour un point Martin 
perdit son Asne " A small error may turn a man to much prejudice. 
(This Martin being abbot of a cloister called Asellus, and setting 
over the gate thereof ' Porta patens esto nulli claudaris honesto 
i.e., O gate, be thou open, to no honest man be shut,' was deprived 
of his place for putting a comma after the word nulli. This of 
course changed the sense to *O gate, be thou open to no man, be 
shut to the honest.')' Resolu comme Pihourt en ses heteroclites 
'" Said of one that in a learned companie is forward to speake or will 
come in with his vy (as one that would seeme to understand some- 
what as well as others, or cares not how little he understand himselfe, 
so he be not understood by others). For this Pihourt, a mason of 
Rhenes, finding at Chasteau-briant (whither he came to consult 
about the making of a castle, with others) the chiefe workmen of 
France, who talked of nothing but obelisques, etc. (which he under- 
stood not), to be even with them, sayd that Sans, etc., 1'Oevre ne 
peut proceder, selon 1'equipolation de ses Heteroclites ; and so, as he 
thought, put them all down)." Perhaps it may be useful to mention 
here that when one of our friends comes out of jail, if we wish to be 
sprightly, we should "lui demander sa chanson," which it seems " is 
spoken jestingly to one that's but newly come out from prison, where 
having been (as a bird in a cage) inclosed he may, perhaps, have 
learnt to sing !" On the subject of prisons we may note La Morgue, 
" a certaine chaire in the Chastelet of Paris wherein a new-come 
prisoner is set and must continue some houres without stirring either 
head or hand, that the keeper's ordinarie servants may the better 
take notice of his face and favour." Nowadays La Morgue is a 



1889.] AN OLD FRENCH DICTIONARY. 603 

ghastly little house on the bank of the Seine, where suicides are 
exposed, that men, women, and children may go in to notice their 
face and favor. This is a very popular exhibition in Paris. In the 
dungeons of tiie Inquisition one might or might not find a Saubenite, 
" a sleevelesse, yellow coat or gowne painted all over with represen- 
tations of divells, and put upon such as are found guiltie by th' In- 
quisition." With regard to the generic name of the fallen angels, 
which occurs remarkably often in this volume, it is nearly always 
spelt as above, and doubtless so pronounced. Curiously enough, 
this pronunciation still prevails in Ireland, and the English make 
merry over it as a "touch of the brogue." No doubt it was im- 
ported into Ireland from England with King James' famous Ulster 
plantation, which took place not long before the appearance of this 
dictionary. So that the Irish is the real, classical, Shaksperian pro- 
nunciation, and it is the English which has become corrupt, probably 
from more frequent usage. 

We obtain here and there along the columns glimpses of Cinque- 
cento art and science. In the art, for instance, of cookery, here is a 
specimen which we commend to the courageous antiquarian : " A 
sauce or condiment made of hogs' feet, first boyled, then broyled, 
then cut into great flat pieces, then scorched on a gridiron, then 
stued in veriuyce with onions, then seasoned with mustard, and then 
boiled in a dish with hot coales put both under and over it." This 
dainty is, it seems appropriately, called Sauce d'enfer. 

In natural history, again, we learn of the strange beasts that once 
haunted "antres vast and desarts idle." We have the Cucuye, "an 
admirable bird in Hispaniola (no bigger than a thombe), having two 
eyes in her head and two under her wings (which are double, a 
greater and smaller paire), so shining in the night (wherein only she 
flies) that five or six of them tied together .give as much light as a 
torch." The Eale, " a blackish (Ethiopian) beast that hath cheekes 
like a boar, a tayle like an elephant, and two long homes, which he 
extends or draws inward at pleasure." The Manticore, "a ravenous 
and mankind Indian beast that hath a face like a man, a bodie like a 
lyon and three rankes of verie sharp teeth." The Scolopendre, " a 
certaine fish which, having swallowed a hooke, vomiteth her bowells, 
and rid of it, sucketh them up againe," and others which, however 
wonderful, have not apparently been found fittest to survive to our 
day. 

The medical terms bring before us an age of savage quackery. 

On reading them one ceases to wonder that in old ascetic books we 

are generally exhorted to have patience, net only in maladies, but 

under the remedies, generally worse than the disease. These violent 

VOL. XLIX. 39 



604 Aw OLD FRENCH DICTIONARY. [Aug., 

traditions have been better maintained in France than elsewhere; so 
that we can understand the remark of Father de Ravignan, that 
" medicine, no less than sickness, was instituted in expiation of our sins, 
and looking at the matter in this way, I have more faith in allopathy 
than homoeopathy, for it is more faithful to its providential mission."* 
We have here a list of cauterizing irons which, when we remember 
that anaesthetics are a modern invention, is appalling. There are elev- 
en of them : " Cautere cultellaire, Cautere ensale, Cautere emporte- 
piece" etc. " Cautere a platine r is " a kind of flat cauter wherewith 
members cut off are seared to prevent corruption and gangrenes." 
No one who is familiar with Moliere will have any difficulty in imag- 
ining the Galen of those days, with his long gown and his pointed 
hat, armed with his scarificateur in one hand, his cautere in the other, 
and his proverb in his mouth : Debonnaire mire fait la playe puante 
" A gentle chirurgian makes a stinking sore " ; and then, after his 
efforts had been crowned with success, turning to the sorrowing rela- 
tives with a shrug and a Contre la mort riy a point de medecine 
" No medicine against death; no remedie for death." What wonder 
if the revolt of the popular mind expresses itself, murmuring behind 
the doctor's back: Une pihtre formentine (wheaten pill), une dragme 
sarmentine (dose of the vine), et la journee d'une geline (egg) est la 
meilleure mcdecine "A manchet, a cup of wine, and a henne's dayes 
taske is the best Physicke a sicke man can aske." Or, Qui a du 
bugle et du sanicle fait au Chirurgien la nique i.e., "He who has 
bugle and sanikell may pull a face at the surgeon " ; " (properly by 
putting the thumbe naile into the mouth and with a ierke (from th' 
upper teeth) make it to knacke)." These last proverbs, however, can 
only have been of purely speculative use ; as in practice the sick bed 
is presided over by inexorable love, which never permits the intru- 
sion of common sense on science. It is curious how many diseases 
are called after saints, perhaps because in their lives they had a spe- 
cial gift of treating them. There is Mai S. Mathurin, S. Mein, S. 
Roch, S. Sebastien, etc. ; others with imitation saints, as Mai S. 
Genou, which is " gowt." Let us hope that Onguent Apostolorum, "a 
certaine detersive salve compounded of twelve ingredients," or Dia- 
catholicon, " a composition so tearmed because it purgeth all kind of 
humours," alleviated some of these evils. Alas ! they could not avail 
against Mai S. Frangois, a disease which is still epidemic in our 
times. It is "want of money, not a crosse in the purse." Mr. Cot- 
grave gives several other remedies which have somehow fallen out 
of repute, one or two of the most repulsive character. However, he 
does not always commit himself to recommending them. He some- 

*Life, p. 258. 



1889.] AN OLD FRENCH DICTIONARY. 



605 



times edges in a parenthesis ' (if some phisitians may be believed)." 
Nay, occasionally he goes even further, as in Grace de Sainct Paul, 
"A certaine little stone that's good against the biting and stinging of 
venomous beasts ; (as the Coseners say that would sell it.) " Do 
we not seem to recognize here the contemporary of Bacon ? Do we 
not seem to see in these manly restrictions, as it were, the first streaks 
ushering in the dawn of that Light of Modern Science whose full 
meridian irradiates our day, fostering while it justifies the conscious- 
ness which most of us feel of our superiority over all preceding 
ages, whether individually or collectively ? 

Perhaps it is in the proverbs, which are appended to words, that 
the chief interest of this dictionary lies. There are many who set a 
higher value on the knowledge supplied by the proverbs, or again by 
the popular ballads, of a nation than on what can be drawn from 
the chronicle of its kings and battles. They enable the imagination 
to penetrate the domestic interior of the people, and open to it the 
secret of their love, their hate, and their laughter. Each proverb is, 
as it were, a prism crystallized out of the ordinary stream of common 
.sense along which men float the raft of their lives. They are not 
merely representative of the people's every-day thoughts, but they 
helped in great measure in their formation. There is a class of men 
to whom proverbs and the dicta of authority are the ultimate court 
of appeal in matters of morality busy, practical men of the world, 
who, having neither time nor gift to search after the ultimate cause, 
fortify themselves with "wise saws and modern instances." They 
are represented in Plato's Republic by Polemarchus, and contrasted on 
the one hand with Thrasymachus, the wild, unpractical theorist, and 
on the other with the true sage, Socrates, who, dissatisfied with the 
former and despising the latter, " in the principle of things sought his 
moral creed." 

As one might expect, it is the more obvious topics that furnish 
the greater number of proverbs. In these, as occurring oftener, the 
busy, practical man of the world requires a larger supply, to regulate 
his opinions and to give neat expression to his emotions. As a 
rule we shall give, with marks of quotation, Mr. Randle Cotgrave's 
translation, though sometimes the temptation of rhyme leads him to 
amplification, as in Qui plus qu'il ria vaillant despend il fait la 
corde a quoy se pend " He that spendeth above his abilitie may at 
length hang himselfe with great agilitie." Or, A la trongne cognoist 
on lyvrogne " Two things a drunkard doe disclose, a fiery face and 



crimson nose.' 



In the proverbs which concern men and women in general 
there is a strange contrast The masculine proverbs contain little 



606 AN OLD FRENCH DICTIONARY. [Aug., 

that savors of irreverence towards the sex. Whatever contempt 
there may be falls on particular classes of men, not on the gener- 
ality, as: Bon poete mauvais homme "A good poet an evill person." 
The sex is treated with respect. But in feminine proverbs we find 
the exact opposite. They mostly refer to the sex universally, and 
are impregnated with a bitterness which, though some disposition to 
temper it appears, does not altogether exhale in the translation, as r 
Qui femme croit et asm meine son corps ne sera pas sans peine i.e. r 
" He who believes a woman or drives a donkey will have some trouble 
of it. Belike, because the one is (sometimes) as false as the other 
is ever foolish." // faut acheter maison faicte et femme a faire 
" (For by building is many a man undone, and with a widow (if she 
list) any man shall have ynough to doe)." Femme se plaind femme 
se deult femme est malade quand elle veut " Women lament, weep, 
sicken when they list." This suggests a question we should like to 
put to those who defend the equality of the sexes. Seeing that 
women are more energetic than men in their use of the faculty of 
speech, why have they obviously so little influence on the nation's 
proverbs ? Why is there nothing under homme or mari to balance 
the misogyny of the following? Ce riest rien, c'est une femme qui se 
noye " It is nothing ; it is only a woman drowning." A qui Dieu veut 
aider sa femme lui meurt " Whom God willeth to help, his wife dies," 
Qui perd sa femme et cinq so/s, c'est grand dommage de V argent 
" He who loses his wife and sixpence hath some losse by the money." 
In short, popular Common Sense with regard to the sexes, as 
revealed in French proverbs, may be summed up in : Un homme de 
paille vaut tine femme d'or " A man of straw is worth a woman of 
gold." This want of power in a sphere in which one might expect 
woman's influence to be paramount would be curious on the hypo- 
thesis which is the basis of Women's Rights. In connection with 
this subject we may note the crystallized wisdom of our ancestors 
on the higher education of women. Soleil qui luisarne au matin, 
femme qui parle Latin et enfant nourri de vin ne viennent point a 
bonne fin "A glaring morne, a woman Latinist, and wine-fed child 
make men crie, had I wist." Like the sky reddened by the rising 
sun, it seems beautiful for a moment, but its end is (they thought) 
storms and dissolution. 

The author of the following proverb was, perhaps, one who had 
personal experience of office and superiority : Qui sert commun nul 
ne le paye, et s'il defunt chaseun I'abbaye " He who serves the com- 
monaltie is controlled (or, rather, barked at) by every one and paied 
by none." And this, on the other hand, seems to be the conclusion 
of some one under authority : // riy a si petit sainct qui ne desire sa 



l88 9-] AN OLD FRENCH DICTIONARY. 

fhandelle" There is no man in authoritie how small soever but 
lookes for the respect that's due unto him." With regard to wealth 
and money-making we have : Qui a argent a des chapeaux" He 
that is rich is reverenced." Pour devenir riche il faut tourner le dos 
a Dieu "He that will soone grow rich must God renounce" ; more 
worldly-wise, perhaps, than our " Honesty is the best policy/' The 
next is more doubtful in these days : De bien commun on ne fait pas 
souvent monceaui.e., " Men do not often make their pile from 
public funds." Belief in the almighty dollar is not a new article of 
faith : Amour faict beaucoup, mats argent faict tout " Love is 
potent, but money omnipotent" Yet here is a word for good blood 
also : Bon sang ne peut mentir" A noble nature will not yeeld 
unto base conditions ; or cannot, when occasion is offered, conceal 
itself And here is for the poor : // riest si grand depit que de povre 
orgueilleux "The spight of a proud begger is unmatchable." En 
grande povrete riy a pas grande loyaulte " In great povertie there's 
no great loyalty." One for the old : Mieux vaut r ombre d'un sage 
vieillard que les armes d'un jeune coquard " The shadow of an 
advised grandsire is better than the sword of an adventurous goose- 
cap" ; and the young may give a timely lesson to their too active 
elders with : Les vieilles gens qui font gambades a la mort sonnent 
des aubades " Old people's frisking doth presage their ending." 
An aubade is, properly, music at dawn (aube), like the song in 
"Cymbeline," " Hark, hark, the lark in heaven's gate sings," etc. It 
corresponds to serenade, which is music in the evening. Together 
they form the Matins and Vespers of Love. Here is now one for 
disciplinarians : Fille' fenestriere et trottiere rarement bonne mesnagere 
"A gazing and gadding maid seld proves good housewife" ; ends 
sometimes, we fear, by becoming a Femme Stygienne, " A most 
divellish quean," 

Eating and drinking is a subject of continual occurrence, and 
seems to wake sympathetic chords in the breast of the lexicographer, 
for nowhere else does he expand more genially. In 1611 the cus- 
toms of polite society were rather different from ours. Dr. Lingard,* 
speaking of the masques which were then fashionable, says : 
' Ebriety at this period was not confined to the male sex, and on 
some occasions females of the highest distinction, who had spent 
weeks in the study of their parts, presented themselves to the spec- 
tators in a state of the most disgusting intoxication." He subjoins 
a letter, which he thinks may amuse the reader, written by a guest 
.at an entertainment, at which, perhaps, Mr. Cotgrave himself was 
present, for it was given by the Earl of Salisbury, the uncle of 

* History oj England, vol. vii. p. 102. 



6o8 AN OLD FRENCH DICTIONARY. [Aug.,. 

his patron, in honor of Christian IV., King of Denmark. We 
shall not quote the letter, as it is more calculated to disgust than to 
amuse. Here are a few out of many phrases and proverbs : // n'a 
pas tenu le bee en eau " A man may safely say he is drunke ; but 
he that says with water, wrongs him." Un ferial beuveur " A 
square drinker, a faithfull drunkard ; one that will take his liquor 
soundly." Rouge visage et grosse pause ne sont signes de penitence 
" A Swizzer's bellie and a drunkard's face are no (true) signs of 
penitentiall grace." Celui est bien mon Oncle qni le ventre un 
comble " Hee's my best uncle who fills my bellie most." Un clerc 
jusques aux dents is, " Well red in a porridge pot, an excellent 
clarke in a Cooke's shop." Soitffler a I'encensoir "To drinke 
hard, to plie the pot; (for they that use to blow the censor becoming 
drie, steale often to the wine-pot provided for the Communion, and 
there sucke up as much wine as before they let out wind)." Before 
leaving the subject we should like to ask why Vin theologal should 
mean, " Notable good and strong wine, or the best wine of what 
kind soever." The exact opposite, we should fancy, to Vin oligd- 
phore, which is " a wine that will not bear much water." 

With regard to the learned professions, popular opinion does not 
seem to have been altogether favorable. We have seen enough as 
to medicine ; here are a few crystals on the bar and the church : 
Homme plaideur menteur "A pleader, a Iyer." A plaideur plaideur 
et demi "Said of a knave well macht with a worse than himselfe." 
Disner d' advocat "A large dinner; eaten (explains Mr. Cotgrave, 
as if he knew) not bestowed." A r advocat le pied en main "viz., 
of partridges, pheasants, capons, to grease his fist withall." Bon 
advocat mauvais voisin "A good lawyer an evill neighbour." 

The only thing that seems to concern dentists is: Mentir comme 
un arracheur de dents "To lye like a tooth-drawer." However, it 
does not really touch the profession, which is a choice product of 
recent civilization. Formerly an " arracheur de dents " was synony- 
mous with a barber ; and accordingly Mr. Cotgrave subjoins to the 
above "(we say that barbers have all the newes in a country, and 
that he that tell much newes tell many a lye)." 

As one might expect, the clerical profession affords occasion for 
much popular wit. The mere fact of reverence for the state, and 
faith in its sacred character, will, of themselves, make men sensitive 
to the incongruity, when they perceive remains of human weakness 
in its members. Just as very slight occasions make us laugh in 
church. Hence it is not surprising if in a Catholic country, as 
France once was, priests and monks are the objects of some prole- 
tarian merriment. Accordingly, we find that a Pas de clerc means : 



1889.] AN OLD FRENCH DICTIONARY. 609 

"A foolish trick, impertinent act, fond part, any childish, ignorant 

proceedings in matters of the world." Collation de moine "A 

monk's nunchion, a large collation, as much as another man eats at 
a good meale." Face d'abbc "A iollie, fat, and red face; a fierie 
fades." II jure comme un prelat " He swears like a prelate viz., 
extreamely (a Huguenot's comparison)." We have the same in : 
II jure comme un gentilhomme " He swears like a thousand pound 
a year." Savonarola generally gets credit for the following, though 
it is much more ancient, and is quoted by St. Bernard : Evesque d'or, 
crosse de bois ; crosse d'or, evesque de bois i.e., Bishop of gold, 
crosier of wood ; crosier of gold, bishop of wood ; " the lesse a 
Bishop's staff, the more his vertue shines ; pompe first corrupted 
prelacie." The next is more satisfactory, and is creditable to arch- 
deacons. Crotte en Archidiacre means: " Dagd up to the hard 
heeles (for so were the archdeacons in old times ever woont to 
be by reason of their frequent and toylesome visitations)." Here 
are sage and practical specimens for the clergy : De prescheur 
qui se recommande en tout temps bonheur nous dcfende " From 
preachers who themselves commend, God and good fortune us 
defend." Pendant que les chiens s' entregrondent le loup de'vore la 
brebis " While churchmen brabble Satan feeds on souls," or 
" Churchmen's contention is the divell's harvest." The translation 
of the following gives one a surprise: Bon gre mal grc va le prestre au 
Senc- " Needes must he goe whom the diveli (necessitie) driveth." 
Doubtless, priests have to attend synods, but it seems odd to make 
this obligation the type of stern necessity. Boys would be boys in 
the middle ages, and we regret to find that sometimes they spoke 
of clergymen as Revegrand " (p& ironicall allusion to Reverend) much 
doting." The following phrase, by the way, makes one suspect 
that girls also in those days insisted on being girls: Elle fait plu- 
sieurs petites melancholies a son amy " She puts him into many 
pretty extasies." 

We shall give now a few miscellaneous words and proverbs 
which struck us as we turned over the leaves, apologizing for the in- 
evitably spasmodic style of this paper: La mort ri a point d'ami le 
malade ria qu? un derni" Death hath no friend, the sicke man but 
an halfe one." L amour apprend les asnes a danser " Love makes the 
cokes turn courtier." Amour vaine tons les forts qui le cceur felon 
" Love conquers anything but a fellonious heart." Reprenons notre 
chevre a la barbe in modern French is Retournons a nos moutons ; 
and in Burnand " Notre mouton avant qu'il soit froid" Voila une 
belle sagesse means : " That was a worthie, wise act, the verie creame 
of Apolloes braine-panne." Here is one that shows an eye to busi- 



6io AN OLD FRENCH DICTIONARY. [Aug., 

ness : A celui qui a son paste au four donne de ton tourteau " Give 
of thy pie to him that hath a pastie." In Palemaille and Piccadille 
we recognize the origin of the name of the well-known London 
streets, Pall Mall and Piccadilly. The first is " A game wherein a 
round box bowle is with a mallet strucke through a high arch of 
yron, etc." ; the second, "the several divisions or pieces fastened to- 
gether about the brimme of the collar of a doublet." Perhaps the 
next is the original of Hamlet's " There is nothing good or bad but 
thinking makes it so " : Rien ne vaut la chose sinon ce qu'on la fait 
valoir. We may note: Nous savons ou gist le lievre i.e., "We 
know where lies the hare," as giving the etymology of our word gist, 
as, the gist of an argument. In families where husbands or brothers 
are in the habit of being kept waiting by the female contingent, the 
following may be employed with advantage : Quand la Messe fut 
chantee si fut la Dame paree i.e., "By the time Mass was over 
madam had. got on her Sunday clothes." Pronounced with proper 
derision this cannot fail in the end to produce a salutary reform. If, 
on the other hand, brothers are given to bragging, sisters may say 
sarcastically : Vous ciiez le chien au grand collier " You were the 
onely noted man, th' onely kill-cow, th' onely terrible fellow." 
Again, in these days of tea-parties and abundant amateur music, the 
following will suit the cantankerous : Les mauvais musiciens ne sont 
jamais ennuyeux a eux-mesmes i.e., "Bad musicians always form a 
delighted audience for their own performance." The next two or 
three phrases point to a greater familiarity with religion in the 
masses than one would probably find in these days. Chanter Mag- 
nificat a Matines " To do things disorderly, or use things unsea- 
sonably." Mangeur de crucifix "A notorious hypocrite, one who, 
to seeme the more holie, is ever kissing a crucifix." II est au bout 
de son breviaire " He is at a plunge, he hath no more to say." 
Jecter Vancre sacree " To employ their last and chiefest remedies, 
to fall unto prayer, or employ the divine assistance when all other 
meanes doe faile." Here is a mine of wisdom: II ne fatit jamais 
enquerir d'ou soit Vhomme le vin et le dit mats qu'il soit bon " No 
matter whence come a man or a bottle or a saying, so they be good." 
II ne faut pas manger les Cerises avec les grands Seigneurs " Meane 
men are not to eat cherries (viz., are not to be verie familiar) with 
great Lords ; least the stones of the best fly faster at their eyes than 
(their portion) the worst into their mouthes." 

Different nationalities furnish the following: Peigne d' Aleman 
i.e., a German's comb, "the four fingers and thumb." Les Alemans 
ont r esprit aux doigts ; " The Germans' wit rests in their fin- 
gers; viz., they are better artizans than artists, better at handy- 



AN OLD FRENCH DICTIONARY. 611 

crafts than at head-craft" Payer a V Espagnole"1o give knockes 
instead of coine, or to rifle such as he should requite (a phrase 
devised by some Dutchman)." Un Espagnol sans Jesuite est unc 
perdris sans orange " A Spaniard without a Jesuite is (wee may 
say) cheese without mustard." Anglois means not only an English- 
man, but (for mysterious reasons) " A creditor that pretends he hath 
much money owing, which is never like to be paid him." We may 
suppose from the following that the French had greater trust in their 
fellow-men than the English. Secret de deux secret de Dieu, 
secret dc trois secret de tons " Wee onely say that two may keepe 
counsell when one is away." Compere de la Pouille couste et des- 
ponille A companion from Apulia will " both feed on you and filch 
from you, and at length wholly fleece you." Le boucon des Lombards 
" An empoisoned bit (for the Lombards are said to be great em- 
poisoners)." 

These are only a few out of hundreds which are interesting either 
for their wisdom or for their quaint turn or for the ludicrous transla- 
tion appended by the ingenious Mr. Cotgrave. Yet, though they 
might interest, it is doubtful whether they would give, on the whole, 
much pleasure. They form too true a representation of human nature 
not to be somewhat saddening. The spiritual side of our multiplex 
nature, the wise, the vulgar, the cynical, and the unclean, all find 
their expression among them ; the latter in abundance. One can- 
not turn over many pages without offending on specimens of what the 
French call La vieille Gauloise, meaning things unsuitable for publi- 
cation. These we omit. Of the wise and the vulgar we have 
already given sufficient. But for odious cynicism could the following 
be easily surpassed ? Qui preste a Vami perd an double viz., 
"both friend and money." Qui veut entretenir son ami riaitnuls 
affairs avec luy " Let him that will hold a friend have little to doe 
with him." De qni je me fie Dieu me garde i.e., "From the man we 
trust good Lord deliver us." A vray dire perd-on le jeu " By speak- 
ing truth men loose their game." Qui mietix aime autruy que soy an 
moulin il meurt de soif" He that hurts himselfe to helpe others will 
dye of thirst at the mill-tayle." However, it would be no use to 
complain of these, as our cynic would be ready with the proverb : 
Cc sont les pires bourdes que les vrayes The bitterest taunt is truth. 
We conclude with a few proverbs of more agreeable character, in the 
hope they may temper the unpleasantness of what has gone before. 
Here are some which have surely been repeated by many a master of 
novices to successive generations. Grande moisson I'obcissant 
recucille "Great is the gaine of those who are obedient." Deux 
orgucillcux ne peuvent estre portez sur un asne " One poore asse 



612 REMINISCENCES OF A FINE GENTLEMAN. [Aug., 

cannot carrie two proud ones." Qui veut la conscience monde il doit 
fuirle monde immonde i.e., "Who wants to keep his conscience clean, 
must fly an unclean world." Envis meurt qui appris ne Va " Un- 
willingly he dies that hath not learnt to die." Nevertheless, Bonne la 
mart qui nous donne la vie " Good is the death which brings us 
unto life ; God's favour's great not to reprieve such as end well, and 
die to live." The following is an epitome and brief chronicle of the 
spiritual life : Qui bien se cognoit peu se prise, qui peu se prise Dieu 
I'avise " He that himselfe knowes well himselfe despises, the self 
despiser God heeds and advises." The next is the groan of some 
pious soul over a sad abuse in spiritual persons : Le Sainct de la 
ville riest point ore- " We seldome crave the helpe of our owne 
Patron." And this is a warning from the same to the same : De 
mains vides prieres vaines " Emptie hands make idle supplications; 
he that gives nought, by prayer getteth nought." And this is what 
the pious generally testify : Qui serf Dieu il a bon maistre " The 
servant of God hath a good maister." And this, the last, " th' onely 
necessarie," as Randle would say: // ne perd rien qui ne perd Dieu 
" Hee looses nothing that keepes God his friend." 

B. B. 



REMINISCENCES OF A FINE GENTLEMAN. 

MY friend was, indeed, of illustrious ancestry. While so many 
trace their life-stream to pirates or usurpers who shed their 
brothers' blood to possess their brothers' power, it is a distinction 
worth recording that this Fine Gentleman was descended from a 
princely person in Switzerland who saved thirteen lives, and whose 
ancient portrait is loaded like a French marshal's with the ribbons 
and medals of recognition. Though of foreign origin, he did an 
exclusively American thing at my introduction to him he shook 
hands. I dropped a Scythian white stone the day he arrived. It 
is needless to say I liked and understood him, blonde, aggressive, 
wilful, from the first. He had even then, despite his extreme 
youth, the air of a fighting aristocrat a taking, swashbuckler atti- 
tude, as he stood at the open door ; the look of one who has charac- 
ter, and a defined part to play, and whose career can never reach a 
common nor ignoble end. Comely in the full sense he was not ; 
but impressive he was, despite the precocious leanness and alertness 
which comes of too rapid growth. 



1 889.] REMINISCENCES OF A FINE GENTLEMAN. 613 

He had every opportunity during his babyhood and later of 
gratifying his abnormal love of travel ; but he managed to see more 
of city life than was good for him, thanks to many impish subter- 
fuges. His golden curiosity covered everything mundane, and he 
continued his private studies in topography until he was kidnapped 
and restored by the police, an abject, shamefaced little tourist, 
heavy with conscience, irresponsive to any welcomes, who sidled 
into his abandoned residence, and forswore from that day his un- 
holy peregrinations. But he had a roaming housemate, and grew 
to be supremely happy journeying under escort. 

His temper at the beginning was none of the best, and took 
hard to the idea of moral governance ; any such obstacle as a 
barred gate he overcame after the fashion of a catapult. His sense 
of humor was always grim ; he had a smile, wide and significant, 
like a Kobold's ; but a mere snicker or a wink was foreign to his 
nature. With certain people he was sheer clown ; yet he dis- 
criminated, and never wore his habitual air of swaggering conse- 
quence before any save those he was pleased to consider his in- 
feriors. But the sagacious and protective instincts were strong in 
him. For children he had the most marked indulgence and affec- 
tion, an inexhaustible gentleness, as if he found the only statecraft 
he could respect in their midst. For their delight he made himself 
into a horse, and rode many a screaming elf astride of his back for 
a half-mile through the meadow before coming to the heart of the 
business, which was to sit or kneel suddenly, and land poor Ma- 
zeppa yards away in the wet grass, a proceeding hailed with shouts 
of acclaim from the accompanying crowd. And again, in winter, 
he became an otter, and placing himself upon his worthy back at 
the summit of a hill, would roll repeatedly to the bottom, drenched 
in snow and buried under a coasting avalanche of boys. 

He never found time, in his short life, to love many. Outside 
his own household and one charming cat, he was very loyal to one 
lady whose conversation was pleasingly ironical, and to one gentle- 
man whose character was said remarkably to resemble his own. 
Several others were acceptable, but for these two visitors he had 
the voice and the gesture of joyful greeting. 

He had so arrant an individuality that folk loved or hated him. 
One could not look with indifference on that assertive, splendid 
bearing, or on the mighty muscles, as of a Norse ship. A civil 
address from you made him your liegeman. But the merest dis- 
regard or slight, no less than open hostility, sealed him your foe. 
And there were no stages of vacillation. A grudge stood a grudge, 
and a fondness a fondness. He was a famous retaliator, but none 



614 REMINISCENCES OF A FINE GENTLEMAN. [Aug., 

>ever knew him to ride first into the lists. Nevertheless, battle was 
his element. He had a gentlemanly dislike of scenes ; therefore, 
when a crisis came, he preferred to box or wrestle, and what he 
preferred he could do, for no opponent ever left a scar upon him. 
A rival less in size, or impudent solely, he took by the nape of the 
neck and tossed over the nearest fence, to resume his walk with 
utter composure. Training .and education helped him to the pacific 
solving of many problems ; but his good dispositions were once 
badly shaken by a country sojourn, for he had been taught a bit of 
cabalistic boys'-Latin, whose lightest whisper would send him tip- 
toeing to every window in the house, scanning the horizon for a 
likely enemy with a rapture worthy of another cause. 

He was rich in enemies, most of them of the gentler sex. Upon 
.a civic holiday three villageous women were seen to bear down 
upon him, as he was peacefully inspecting the outposts of their 
property, laden with weapons (timer arma ministrat /) no less classic 
than a pail, a broom, and an axe. Not Swift's self could have 
added to the look of withering comment with which he turned and 
confronted his assailants, a single glance which dispersed the troops, 
and held in itself the eloquence of an Aristophaneian comedy. 
Eternal warfare lay between him and the man who had flapped his 
Tiaughty nose with a glove before his first birthday anniversary, 
and revenge boiled in his eye long after at sight of a citizen who 
had addressed to him a word unheard in good society. A loud 
tone, a practical joke, a teasing reminder of a bygone fault dis- 
concerted him wholly. Sensitive and conservative of mood, my 
Fine Gentleman could never forget a rudeness nor account satis- 
factorily for such a thing as a condescension. All his culture and 
his thinking had not taught him to allow for the divers conditions 
.and dispositions of mankind. To the last he looked for well-bred 
courtesy, for intelligence, and, alas ! for fashionable clothes, in his 
ideal. For the Fine Gentleman was a snob. Hunger and naked- 
ness, even honest labor, had for him no occult charm. Throughout 
his youth he courted patrician acquaintances, and on the very high- 
way essayed to make worse rags yet of the floating rags of a 
beggar's coat ; but the experience of friendship with a kindly 
butcher's lad made inroads upon his exclusiveness, and I know that 
had he outlived his little years there would have been one more 
principled democrat. His own personal appearance was of the 
nicest; by scrupulous superintendence of his laundry, chiefly by 
night, he kept himself immaculate and imposing. His colors were 
those of the fallen leaves and the snow ; the November auburn 
falling away on either side from the magnificent brow and eye, and 



1889.] REMINISCENCES OF A FINE GENTLEMAN. 615 

from the neck in its triple white fold, a head to remind you of 
Raleigh in his ruff. 

I can attest that he was patriotic, for he revelled in the din and 
smoke of the Fourth of July. He had heard much music, learned 
something of it, and had been known to hum over recitatives of the 
late Herr Wagner. Singular to relate, he had an insuperable objec- 
tion to books, and protested often against the continued use of the 
pen by one he would fain esteem. Yet he seemed greatly to relish 
a tribute of personal verse from a United States Senator, and the still 
more elaborate lines of a delightful satirist. 

His health, aside from his spirit and nervous vigor, was never 
steady nor sound. Every chapter of the Fine Gentleman's biography 
is crammed with events, perils, excitements, catastrophes, and blun- 
ders, due in great part, by a scientific verdict, to this tremendous 
vitality balancing on too narrow a base. With years there began to 
come the " philosophic mind." His sweetness and submission grew 
with his strength ; never was there a sinner so tender of conscience, 
so affected by remonstrance (for he had long outgrown severer dis- 
cipline), so fruitful after in the good works of amended ways. 
New virtues seemed to shoot on all sides, and the old ones abided 
and flourished. He had never tried to deceive, nor to shirk, nor to 
rebel, nor to take what was not his, nor to appear better than he was. 
In the country town where he had many a frolic, and where he now 
lies buried, he found congenial circumstances. There were no gar- 
dens there, no timid neighbors ; he had opportunity, being allowed 
to inspect everything that moved upon the earth, or in the waters 
under, for the pursuit of natural history, which was his passion ; 
he ate what he pleased, he lorded it as he liked, he shifted half of his 
responsibilities, he had endless flattery from the inhabitants. His 
frank acknowledgment of all this was unique. On his return, 
while his escort was still in the room, the Fine Gentleman was asked 
whether he would rather remain at home, or have a week longer 
in the fascinating precincts of Oxton. He arose briskly, bestowed 
on the questioner, whom he professed to adore, his warmest em- 
brace (a thing unusual with him), and immediately, pulling his es- 
cort by the sleeve, placed himself at the door-knob which led into the 
more immoral world. 

His last accomplishment was to acquire an accurate sense of 
time ; to make his quarter-hour calls, his half-hour walks, when 
sent out alone. "As wise as a Christian," as an honest acquaintance 
was wont to say of him (perhaps on the suspicion that the Fine 
Gentleman, after he reached his majority, was a free-thinker). 

He was in his perfect prime when a slight seeming disgrace fell 



616 REMINISCENCES OF A FIA T E GENTLEMAN. [Aug., 

upon him, through an incident never clearly understood. His be- 
lievers believed in him still, but, for the need of quiet and impartial 
adjustment of matters, persuaded him to stay a while in the beloved 
farming district where many of his early vacations were spent. So 
that, after all his tender rearing, he was at last abroad and divorced ! 
with a mist, such as we recognized immortals call sin, upon his 
spirit, and because of that, a scruple and a doubt upon another's, re- 
sponsible for so much of what he was. Before the eventual proof 
came that his beautiful brain was jangled a little, and that he was 
clear of blame, there were thoughts of an imperative parting, and a 
reaching for the rectification towards the happy hunting grounds, 
where, at an era's end, we could be joyous together ; and where, 
under the old guiding now never unskilful, the old sympathy now 
never erring, the Fine Gentleman could be to his virtue's full, and, in 
no misapprehending air, his innocent, upright, loving self again. 
But instantly, as if to wipe out for ever that possible evil of which men 
could dream him guilty, came the moving and memorable end. 
Amid the tears of a whole town, and the thanksgiving of some for a 
greater grief averted, very quietly and consciously, under the most 
painful conditions, the Fine Gentleman laid down his life for a little 
child's sake. The fifth act of his tragedy had a sort of drastic con- 
sistency to those who knew him ; it was in line with his odd, inborn, 
unconventional ways ; the fate one would have chosen for him, and 
the fittest with which to associate his soldierly memory. In exile 
and cashiered, he had overturned his defamers at a stroke. 

It is not too proud a sentence to write over him, that this world, 
for the most part, was jealous of his nobility. Human society was 
some sort of a huge jest to him ; he did not always do his best there, 
as if the second-best were the shrewder policy, and the neater adap- 
tation to the codes of honor he found established. But his main in- 
terest certainly was the study of mankind, and he stood to it, a free 
and unbookish philosopher, looking on and not partaking ; with his 
reticent tongue, his singularly soft foot-fall, his " eye like a wild In- 
dian's, but cordial and full of smothered glee/' To his own race he 
must be an epic figure and a precedent, and to ours, something not 
undeserving of applause. 

" Go seek that hapless tomb ! Which if ye hap to find, 
Salute the stones that keep the bones that held so good a mind." 

Such are the only annals of the Fine Gentleman a dog, faith- 
ful and unforgotten, who bore a great Bostonian's name nearly 
five years without a stain, and who is to one or two of us not 
alone a friend lost, but an ideal set up : Perseus become a star. 

LOUISE IMOGEN GUINEY. 



889.] OVER LAND. 



617 



OVER LAND. 

OVER land and over sea, 

Past the sunset red, 
Stands a stately refuge town 

Whither one has fled 
Who had scarcely sought, I ween, 

All its joy divine, 
Could he only have foreseen 

This sad town of mine. 
Smile on lips and harp in hand, 

Victory on his brow, 
Far from me and my cold land 

He is singing now ! 



Soul of mine, couldst wish him back 

To the toil and tears, 
To the tumult and the rack 

Of the coming years ? 
Nay. Be glad his soul has sped 

Past all pain and wrong ; 
In that town beyond the red 

Thou wilt be ere long. 



Over land and over sea, 

Past the sunset red, 
Soul of mine, there's room for thee 

With thy happy dead ! 



LUCY AGNES HAYES. 



6i8 THE LOVELINESS OF SANCTITY. [Aug., 



THE LOVELINESS OF SANCTITY. 

THE saint whose name is invoked in a special manner on the 
Twenty-sixth of May is one of our favorites, ST. PHILIP NERI. 

We are apt to get it into our heads that these our modern 
matter-of-fact times are not the times to make saints, as if the 
Eternal Principle of all sanctity could not distinguish one time from 
another! We must get this into our heads, viz., that the saints 
were men of clearer vision, men who, as the lesson read at Mass 
on St. Philip's day says, " wished" and understanding was given 
them ; " called" and the spirit of wisdom came upon them. These 
are the saints, and let us remember that all this began on earth ; 
and as the church, which is God with us, is to last till the end 
of time, and then continue as the church triumphant throughout 
eternity, so will the means of sanctification be within reach of all 
men of all times. No age so far but has its glorious illustrations of 
this truth, and so it will be unto the end. The confirmed saints, 
those who are now in ecstatic enjoyment of the everlasting joys, 
secured their claims to their present felicity while here on earth. 
Such as we are they were ; such as they are we must be. It rests 
with us to wish and to call and to choose as they did, and, like 
them, we may declare that all good has come to us through this 
wisdom. 

Let us look well at the pictures of St. Philip. We have several 
portraits of this genial and gentle and holy man, the beloved not 
only of his dear Filippini, but of all who love the glory of the 
House of God, for of such stones is it built. Who has ever yet 
succeeded in describing a human countenance ? The sweeter, the 
purer, the holier our love, the more beautiful grows that face, even 
though we look upon it through dimmed eyes. What of the eyes 
of our soul looking through another soul ? Ah ! here indeed words 
grow meaningless and colors fade. Still, we may begin even here 
that contemplation of holiness which is to make part of our ever- 
lasting rapture. We may look into the soul of a saint, for what 
more transparent than sanctity ? what more difficult to conceal ? 
It escapes even the merciless guardianship of humility. It tells on 
itself, and we are the better for it. It is well for us to covet this 
beauty, to feed upon it. Let us study every feature of the beaatiful 
soul, of St. Philip. Then we shall declare that beautiful beyond 
words to tell or colors to paint is the face of our beloved saint. We 



1889.] THE LOVELINESS OF SANCTITY. 619 

could not choose a more irresistible argument in favor of the loveli- 
ness of sanctity than the life of Philip Neri, and yet his face only 
shadowed forth dimly the splendor within. Our authority for the 
sketch here undertaken is his latest, and we may safely say his most 
charming, biographer, Cardinal Alfonso Capecelatro, Oratorian. He 
says : 

" Philip Neri, who was the greatest reformer of his time, was a saint of a 
beauty very rarely approached since ; gentle in appearance, and in manner 
gentle ; gentle in looks, in words, in everything ; revealing in the expression of 
"his face the beautiful poetry of his soul ; humble in his attire ; in appearance 
or in reality eccentric at times, but in his eccentricities always a saint ; noted 
especially for a sort of heavenly gladness of heart, which never left him in suffer- 
ings or in contradictions ; glowing with a love of God and of his neighbor so in- 
tense that he seemed at times beside himself with love." 

Let us look upon one of these pictures, now hanging in the 
Doria Gallery in Rome, painted by Baroccio " a handsome boy of 
about twelve years, with eyes that seem to be looking at something 
lovelier than we can ever hope to see outside of Paradise." This 
painting of the Biwno Pippi (his pet name as a child) shows us as 
brilliantly as brush can the light of grace and of a higher love 
Illuminating and consuming the soul of this darling boy-saint It 
lifts him very far above us, though ; it is not easy to know with 
what heroic resolve he will forego the sweets of earthly love, tear 
himself from beloved parents, from his two sisters, to enter upon 
the narrow way of perpetual sacrifice. There is a peculiar charm 
.about the boyhood of this saint, for he was a saint even then. As 
a boy he was, we are told, comely, well-proportioned, sprightly 
and joyous, eager and self-restrained ; with a gentle sweetness ot 
look and bearing and speech ; his forehead was lofty and ample, 
his eyes were small and blue, so expressive and penetrating that 
neither then nor subsequently could any painter adequately render 
them ; his complexion was exceedingly fair and delicate. This is 
how Philip looked in 1527. Philip Romolo Neri must then have 
been twelve years of age, for he was given unto us in 1515, in the 
same year as Teresa di Cepeda was born in Avila, Spain. St. 
Philip died on the 26th of May, 1595, the day that we call his 
"festa," thus having sojourned amongst us eighty years, a goodly 
period, which we will endeavor to retrace. 

St. Philip's age was also the age of St. Ignatius Loyola, ol 
St. Charles Borromeo, of St. Francis Xavier, of St. Cajetan, of Pope 
St. Pius V., of St. Teresa, it was the age of Luther, of Henry 
VIII., of Zwingli, and of John Knox; an age of extremes very 
like our own. It was the age of the pagan Renaissance and of 

VOL. XLIX. 40 



620 THE LOVELINESS OF SANCTITY. [Aug., 

the Council of Trent, an age of reactions not unlike ours. If we 
study the maladies of that age, we surely must admit the saving 
remedies were in skilful hands. Marvellous, indeed,, and ever to be 
praised and blessed, are the workings of God in the world through 
his confidential messengers, the saints. Not the least marvellous in 
our eyes is the adaptability of these saints to meet the special wants 
of their times. Study the history of Ignatius of Loyola, the " soldier- 
saint," then say if he was not the " right man in the right time ' 
and place. Manifold and great were the evils of that time ; scandals 
in high places, error because of insubordination in the schools, dis- 
solution in society, relaxation in the cloisters, " woe and desolation ' 
in the sanctuaries. Everywhere reformation was needed, and Re- 
formation was the cry. And there was a reform, but not brought 
about by Luther, nor Henry VIII. , nor Zwingli, nor Calvin, nor 
Knox. To the other group whose names are identified with the 
sixteenth century must we turn as to the reformers. To the 
Council of Trent we must look for the remedies of the great evils 
that convulsed the world. Let the records of ecclesiastical, monastic,, 
and secular Catholic life since then tell whether the remedies were 
efficacious or not. Read an impartial review of the clashing theories 
of the self-appointed teachers, Luther and his allies ; then cease to* 
wonder why Protestantism has come to rationalism and agnosticism,, 
deadly fruits of withered branches ! When Luther conceived the 
mad design of reforming the fixed, unalterable, divinely instituted, 
therefore irreformable, church he confounded the abuses and evils 
among men professing religion with religion itself. He forgot that 
the individual Catholic is in constant need of reform in his life, but 
the Catholic Church on her divine side needs no reform. Whether 
speaking through councils or through her individual pastors, the 
church aims at reforming her children. She will modify her ex- 
ternal life, her discipline, whenever in her divinely imparted wisdom 
she deems it advisable for the greater good. The light shines out 
dazzlingly in that darkness, the light of knowledge from Trent, the 
light of sanctity from the saints of that time, many of whom were 
active workers, during the many sessions of that great council. 
Hence Ignatius and his Society of Jesus, hence St. Teresa and St, 
John of God with their renewed monasteries, St. Charles Borromeo 
with his ecclesiastical seminaries, St. Cajetan with his pious oratory, 
St. Philip Neri with his countless Filippini, and ever so many more 
leaders, to say nothing of the willing multitudes led and maintained 
in the way of Christian perfection. These were the reformers and 
the reformed in the only sense of words acceptable to him who be- 
lieves in the Church One, Holy, Catholic, and Apostolic. 



1889.] THE LOVELINESS OF SANCTITY. 621 

St. Philip, though he entered upon Holy Orders only after what 
we may call a " public life " in the world of sixteen years, was to be 
one of the chief laborers in the reforming of the clergy of his time. 
The church teaching cannot err, but the church in her ministers 
considered only as men may, alas! fall from her high estate; though 
infallible in her doctrine, she is not impeccable in her representa- 
tives. The " gold had grown dim ' in many places ; the " salt of 
the earth " had " lost its flavor." We needed holy priests, and they 
were' given to us. St. Charles was a priest, St. Cajetan a cardinal, 
St. Philip Neri will become a priest in spite of his humble protests. 
He will be the ideal priest realized ; he will prove the possibility of 
poor, frail humanity reaching the standard of holiness expressed in 
the awful words of priestly ordination. 

The Neri family was noble, though at the time of our acquaint- 
ance with it fortune was not commensurate with its just claims to 
aristocratic distinction ; but its noble scion, its last representative, 
Philip Romolo, was to enhance the name as all the wealth of the 
Indies could not do ; but " with him," as Capecelatro says, " the 
Neri ended, but with him, too, the Filippini began." 

He had a brother Antonio, younger by several years; he died 
in early childhood. There were two sisters, Elizabeth and Cathe- 
rine, six or seven years younger than himself. These "little sisters" 
must have been like everybody else's little sisters, and helped Pippo 
to be good. We are told the good Pippo shed very bitter tears over 
an act of impatience provoked by either Lizzie or Katie ; certain it 
is, "he pushed his sister," says the biographer, "because she dis- 
turbed him in his beloved devotion, the recitation of psalms." She 
protested against his long prayers in various ways, and " one day 
he rudely pushed her." His papa reproved him, and poor Pippo 
would not be comforted; long and bitterly did he bewail his "sin of 
anger," and "never did it again." Can we question the delicacy of 
this wide-awake, healthy boy, when a single act of ungentleness was 
for him the cause of an abiding contrition ? Happy parents to 
possess such a child ! Happy child to have learned at home his 
first lessons of true greatness ! Grace in the youthful Philip was 
seconded by education, or, rather, his education was a great grace. 
What a delightful and profitable study it would be for the Christian 
parents of to-day to ascertain the exact details of this education. 
His biographers do not tell us much about this, but they lead us to 
infer it was thorough and judiciously practical. They were " gen- 
teel " people, and genteel people after the Tuscan meaning of dis- 
tinction were very genteel indeed. 

Philip, whom all future generations are to designate as 



622 THE LOVELINESS OF SANCTITY. [Aug., 

Apostle of Rome" was a Florentine by birth and education. This 
must be read as a guarantee of a refined mental and moral disci- 
plining, of an artistic moulding of thought, and of a severe intellect- 
ual grasp of things. Philip was a frequenter of the renowned 
" Rucellai Gardens," and the other sanctuaries of art for which his 
native city is famous. He was a frequent listener to the learned 
discourses and lectures. Here was art criticism carried to such a 
degree of nicety as to make Florence the standard for the rest of 
Italy. Here he might take notes on the theories of political econ- 
omy, of philosophy and literature. Here he might kindle in his 
soul the ambition to shine among men as a scholar, as an artist, as 
a leader in politics. Apart from this unquestionably rich oppor- 
tunity of acquiring a brilliant education, he enjoyed a regular course 
of study under the direction of an able tutor named Clemente, a 
man who was in great repute even in Florence. Philip's classics 
under this master were all that an enthusiastic teacher and a willing 

o 

pupil could make them. Still, we must not be surprised to learn 
that this young man's ardor for the ancients was not as fiery nor as 
passionate as was then the fashion. He studied the old masters 
with love, but not with idolatry. It is a great blessing for Philip 
that in those years of facile impressions the arts and sciences in 
Florence were, in some degree, Christian in their expression as well 
as in their conception ; but the greatest blessing of all, and the one 
by which, after a singular grace from God, we have a Saint Philip 
Neri, was that of the home influence exercised over him, influence 
of lovely examples. " His parents understood that the souls of their 
children were trusts from God ; that the soul must ever tend to- 
wards and nourish itself on the thought of God and on the love of 
God." Another blessing was the free and almost constant inter- 
course of their son with the best religious of his time. 

He was always at home among the Dominicans of San Marco, 
and in later years in Rome, on one of the rare occasions when he 
spoke of himself, he said to the Dominicans there : " Whatever good 
there has been in me from the first I owe to your fathers of San 
Marco, especially to Fra Zenobio de' Medici and to Fra Servanzo 
Mini." Congenial, indeed, to the contemplative yet ardent soul of 
Philip must those peaceful cloisters have been. Friendly the inter- 
course with these holy men, among whom were kept beautifully alive 
the traditions of their saintly founder, in whose memories dwelt the 
sweet voice and beautiful face of Fra Angelico. Here had dwelt 
the eager though somewhat overzealous Savonarola. Veneration 
for this man was a cherished tradition in the Neri family, as in 
all the better families of Florence, who saw in the great preacher, 



1 889-] THE LOVELINESS OF SANCTITY. 623, 

even while deploring his impetuosity, a forerunner of the great and 
true reformation that was to be. Happy days those, when the 
pious and studious youth could pass from a refined home to the 
classic shades of the Rucellai Gardens ; thence wander at will among 
the long corridors and cells of San Marco ; linger without fear of 
disturbance before some of those Madonnas of the angelic painter ; 
go in and out of the great cathedral. Happy, indeed, too happy to 
last, but never to be forgotten. During these years of enviable 
opportunities the boy of twelve has almost reached man's estate ; 
he is eighteen years of age, holy and refined, as were his surround- 
ings. He has not got thus far on the road of life without having 
experienced how sharp is the conflict between body and soul; in 
other words, he has realized what his spiritual teachers mean when 
they caution Christian youth against the perils attendant on that 
phase of life called the awakening of the passions, a time of dan- 
gerous initiations. Philip has understood how vigilant he must be 
if he is to come out of the ordeal unscathed. 

Whatever may have been the intensity and the length of his con- 
flict we know not, but on the testimony of those who were near him 
during those years, we learn that at no time was his external serenity 
ruffled ; he left off none of his pious practices, nor did he seek for 
other friends than those he met in his own family and among his 
dear Dominicans. Philip was an only son now ; the family name 
must not be lost. Whatever have been the signs of a vocation to a 
life of greater piety, we know no definite choice had been made; we 
know, also, there was no violence on the part of his parents, not 
even a formally expressed desire, as to Philip forming an alliance 
that would insure the transmission of a name of which they were so 
justly proud. 

But as early as his eighteenth year Philip had reached that sor- 
rowful time in almost every life, when we must leave home. There 
must be a parting; Philip must go away. Philip, in spite of his 
predilections for books, and for the noble arts so lavishly repre- 
sented in his beloved Florence, feels it is right and honorable for 
him to make some effort to return, at least in part, what his parents 
have done for him. An opportunity is at hand, and he will sacrifice 
his tastes, his love for home, to relieve his father's mind relatively 
to the endowment that father is so anxious to bestow upon his 
son; he need be no longer a burden on his good father's mind ; 
and whatever patrimony the family can dispose of will go entirely 
to his two sisters. Philip knows that life is labor, and though 
his heart-strings may break, he will go go to San Germano, a small 
town nestling at the base of Monte Casino. A relative, whom he 



624 THE LOVELINESS OF SANCTITY. [Aug., 

calls his uncle, is engaged in a thriving business there a bachelor 
uncle, with no one on whom his heart is set but on this beloved, so- 
called nephew, Philip Romolo Neri. The wealthy merchant had 
written to Philip's father, asking that the young man might come, 
and be helped through, as we would say, a practical " commercial 
course," intimating his intention of making Philip his heir. This 
sounds very practical, indeed, for a saint ; for one who, though in the 
world, has already made great strides in the mystic life. But, after 
all, the saints are very practical, though they exhibit their concrete 
wisdom in curious ways. It is easy to understand why Philip, 
whose sense of indebtedness to his parents was proportionate to his 
sense of delicacy and gratitude, equal to his appreciation of their love 
for him, found strength to renounce life in Florence for one that held 
out to him nothing in harmony with his tastes and habits ; strength 
to tear himself away from his home, leave his beautiful city, his 
dear friends, to do what was in his eyes a filial duty. Whatever may 
have been his intimate conviction that another career was traced out 
for him, the time had not come yet to break definitely with the 
world and its chances of prosperity. 

Hence, somewhere about the years 1532 and 1533 he left 
Florence, left it for ever. So little do we know when we say "Good- 
by ' whether the " Welcome back ' will ever be heard ! Three 
hundred . and fifty miles that was a long journey in those days. 
There were in 1532 few carriage-roads in Italy, and very few carri- 
ages. These three hundred and fifty miles must be made on horse- 
back, and even though the route lay through Umbria, and Rome was 
one of the halting places, it was a painful and a lonesome journey. 
Our solitary traveller was going to assured riches, but he was poorly 
equipped for a long journey, his wardrobe very scanty for a gentle- 
man's son. It was a beginning of the detachment he was to 
practise and to teach during the remainder of his life. These priva- 
tions went far towards confirming him in his convictions as to the van- 
ity of all earthly things ; he learned how very little indeed " man wants 
here below." The " kindly Light" was leading him on, seemingly 
to San Germano, not " to thrive and grow great after the fashion of 
prosperous humanity " ; but really he was being led on to the love 
and espousal of Holy Poverty ; led on, as only the "kindly Light " can 
lead, to the full comprehension of the fundamental principle of beati- 
tude conveyed in the words of the Owner of all things : " Blessed 
are the poor in spirit ! ' 

San Germano lies half-way between Naples and Rome. Should 
we visit it to-day, we might well wonder that such an enterprising 
business man as Romolo Neri should have prospered here ; but in 



1889.] THE LOVELINESS OF SANCTITY. 625 

*. 

the sixteenth century several of these small cities had become great 
commercial centres through the agencies representing the richest 
families of Rome, Naples, Florence, Genoa, etc. This Romolo, 
whom Philip called his uncle, was only a second cousin, by many 
years his senior. He had always loved Philip ; his adopting him as 
heir and successor was only the executing of a purpose he had 
formed from the earliest childhood of the beloved Pippo. 

How far are God's ways from our ways ! Romolo intended to 
show his dear Philip how to get the most out of life. The adopted 
heir will learn the secret, but not as Romolo understood it. Al- 
though the piety of Philip was far beyond the ordinary, and although 
there had been several supernatural manifestations of the grace 
within him, yet no vision is granted him, no articulate words from 
heaven have sounded in his ears, and his arrival in San Germane 
has all the appearance of being the outset of a worldly career no less 
honorable than successful. His welcome from the generous relative 
who had bade him come was hearty, nor was Philip indifferent to the 
unceasing kindness of his protector, though he sorely missed his dear 
friends, the monks of St. Mark's. He soon learned the shortest way 
up those heights on whose summit stands the world- renowned mon- 
astery of the Benedictines, who have kept aflame on this holy moun- 
tain the beacon-light of European civilization Monte Casino ! 

We must adore the Providence which placed the man who was 
to be known as the "Apostle of Rome" under the shelter of all the 
holiness investing this mountain at that perilous time of his life 
when he so much needed counsel and strong example. His soul 
was athirst for God, but nothing was definite in his mind as to the 
means by which he was to do his share towards advancing God's 
cause. The greatest saints have had their trials of uncertainty and 
of human fears. Philip was no exception. The world had powerful 
attractions. There was a noble name to perpetuate; wealth was 
insured. He must needs pray and keep a close watch over his 
heart, because in those matters it is always the heart that decides. 
He could, indeed, live a holy life, attain sanctity i.e., love God and 
serve him faithfully by walking in the common path ; but his soul 
could find no rest in that determination, nor will he rest until he sees 
unmistakably that God calls him to perfect union with his Holy 
Spirit. His goings and comings through the consecrated domains 
of Monte Casino had much to do towards hastening his life-resolve. 

St. Ignatius was drawn by grace to spend some time in this holy 
seclusion before he laid the foundation of his great society. So is 
St. Philip, who is to institute a great work, led by God to the "Holy 
Mountain." His yearnings for a life of immolation were gaining form 



626 THE LOVELINESS OF SANCTITY. [A 

and consistency. Says a Benedictine chronicler of the seventeenth 
century: " Philip laid the foundations of a pre-eminent sanctity in 
San Germano and in Monte Casino, in which places for three con- 
tinuous years he drank in the spirit of piety and of holy virtues 
mainly under the guidance and teaching of the most religious monk 
of Monte Casino, Eusebio d'Evoli, a noble Neapolitan." Those 
whose happy privilege it is to go on a pilgrimage to the great Bene- 
dictine monastery cannot fail to carry away among their many 
precious souvenirs a strong impression of an altar dedicated to 
St. Philip Neri in the Church of the Holy Trinity, nor can the 
pilgrim forget the painting which represents our saint it hangs on 
the walls of that church. This is the most popular shrine among 
the many shrines of the mountain. From the Abbot Dom Ber- 
nardo Gaetani the author to whom we are indebted for the latest 
life of St. Philip has learned and tells us that 

" not far from Gaeta, which is about fifteen miles from San Germano, a hill 
rises steep and abrupt from the sea. It is held in great veneration by all 
the people of that part of Italy, because an ancient tradition says it was rent 
when the earth quaked at the death of Christ. In the eleventh century we find 
it a sanctuary dedicated to the Holy Trinity. In St. Philip's time it belonged 
to the Benedictines. About the middle of the fifteenth century a mass of rock 
fell from the summit of the mountain upon the cleft, which is about seven yards 
across ; when it had fallen two-thirds of the height of the mountain it embedded 
itself so firmly that no power of man could move it. A certain Argeste of 
Gaeta then built on the fallen fragment a beautiful circular chapel, seven yards 
in diameter, the windows of which command a wide expanse of sea, which flows 
also far below under the chapel. This is the sanctuary of the Holy Cross. 
From the church of the Trinity we reach this chapel by a kind of ladder formed 
by thirty-five bars of iron riveted in the side of the mountain. And thus the 
memory of the rock riven at the death of Jesus was revived ; pilgrims thronged 
to the spot, and to this day the devotion is unabated. It is especially dear to 
sailors. The light in the little chapel thus suspended in the cleft of the rock 
shines from afar over the sea, and when in the gloom the sailors see it they cry : 
It is the Trinity ! They uncover their heads, pray, and give thanks as they 
round the mountain into the harbor. When the sea is calm and bright they 
salute it with discharge of guns." 

In this shrine, we are told, St. Philip spent much of his 
time. In this retreat came at last to his soul a direct inspiration as 
to the form his service was to assume. It was an interior and word- 
less voice, but he heard it distinctly, and to hear was to respond. 
Here it was that, before his twenty-first year, Philip said to himself : 
Poverty is my choice ; I will devote myself to the acquisition and 
practice of the spirit of poverty. And then to his beloved and 
afflicted uncle, his adopted father : " I for ever renounce what you so 
kindly hold out to me. I shall always be a poor man." Not the 



l88 9-] THE LOVELINESS OF SANCTITY, 627 

language of the average young man coming of age ; but the saints 
are not average men. Will this singular young man join the 
brotherhood of mendicants, who continue the sublime folly of St. 
Francis Assisi, the chivalrous Knight of Christ, who, inspired by 
" Him who had not whereon to lay his head," " wooed and won " the 
lowly maiden known in supernatural language as Holy Poverty ? 
Will this new suitor vow himself to her service among his beloved 

Dominicans ? he was almost one of them since his youth or will 

he not rather simply say, as so many thousands had said before, to 
St. Benedict, living in the person of the father-abbot : Let me, too, 
be counted as one of the "blessed." He loved the place and the 
monks; he was no stranger there. Philip did not feel drawn to 
make a formal vow of poverty ; but he was fired with a desire to 
live henceforth in the spirit of detachment from all things without 
formulating his renunciations. Had he, in his long meditations on 
that wonderful Sermon on the Mount, caught some special meaning 
of the first principle of blessedness ? So it would seem ; for irre- 
vocably was it fixed in his mind, this singular resolve. Alas ! that 
it should be singular. For is not the theory of happiness, as 
worded by the Preacher on that mount in Judea, addressed to all 
men of all times ? Must we not all " use the things of this world as 
if we used them not " ? The world needed a reminder of this 
theory, and St. Philip will show us that it is a practical theory, that 
conveyed in the Beatitudes. We shall have voluntary poverty prac- 
tised by a man who does not join a monastic order. He rejects, as 
gently as he knows how, the rich inheritance his good uncle intends 
for him, though his good heart aches at the pain his resolution 
inflicts. In obedience to the call of grace, he tears himself away 
from a place he had begun to love as dearly as Florence. He will 
set out upon the new road, which will lead him to the scene of all 
he is destined to do towards the work of reconstruction going on 
in the Christian world. He will go to Rome. There he will labor,, 
there he will die, there his sanctity will receive its crown. This 
man, who does not aspire to the priesthood, will become the model 
of priests. In Rome he will give the lie to the so-called Reformers, 
who proclaimed so loudly that the church had lost her life-giving 
power, that she was totally steeped in sin. Whatever may have 
been the scandal given by rich churchmen, here is an example 
which thousands will gladly follow. And Philip, whose humility 
could not have endured the word reformer as associated with his. 
efforts, will be acknowledged as such by all future generations, and 
his reform will be chiefly felt by the clergy. 

He reached Rome in the latter part of 1534, shortly after the 



628 THE LOVELINESS OF SAA^CTITY. [Aug., 

accession of Paul II L, and at the time when the tremendous revolt 
in Germany had convulsed all Europe and dismembered Christen- 
dom. It was just before the opening of the Council of Trent. All 
minds were intent upon the awful questions of the day. We may 
say that we are engaged in the same study. Thrillingly interesting 
times those were and these are ; thrilling, because we who know 
the right answers to the questions of the human soul suffer at seeing 
so many noble minds answering wrong and believing wrong answers. 
We cannot conceive of Philip going through those times without 
taking an active interest in all those agitations, even though he was 
a man of almost incessant prayer, aye, and a poet, too, but not an 
idle dreamer ; nor will he ever give himself up exclusively to the 
contemplative life. What dreams he had were not " all dreams." 
Those eyes of his, so downcast in their modesty, were very observ- 
ing eyes. He was young, only twenty-one ; he would look on the 
drama then being played upon the world-stage and learn ; better 
still, he will take a very conspicuous and beautifully real part in the 
great action ; he will pray that " all may end well," and it is ours 
to applaud, and the angels and saints are with us in the applause. 
Are we not all "given as a spectacle to angels and to men " ? The 
voice so plainly heard at Monte Casino, and so promptly obeyed, 
will speak again and command the sacrifice of his humble protests 
.against embracing the clerical life, and though it be with fear and 
trembling, he will say: "Behold thy servant," for I heard thy voice. 
Yet he will have walked in the strength of the first call of grace at 
San Germano for sixteen years before his vocation is made definite 
and clear to him. 

Can any Catholic feel like a " stranger in a strange land ' in 
Rome ? From the day on which the golden sands of Montorio were 
dyed red with the blood of St. Peter, who, by dying, took pos- 
session of the Imperial City, every child of the church of Peter has 
a right to call himself at home in the monumental city of the world. 
It is ours by right divine ; so felt Philip Neri. Yet, though one may 
go in and out of the three hundred and sixty-five churches, may 
linger in the galleries and museums, may pray undisturbed in all 
the consecrated shrines, he may not walk into every house or any 
house and expect food and lodging without paying for it. In this 
respect Philip was indeed a stranger and alone in Rome ; but his 
trust was great. Had he not left San Germano to obey the grace 
that called him to Rome, there to live in perfect detachment ? Still, 
man must not tempt Providence ; he must earn his bread. Philip 
renounced wealth, renounced the luxuries and many of the neces- 
saries of life, but he did not presume on a miraculous supply of 



1889.] THE LOVELINESS OF SANCTITY. 629 

what was rigidly required to keep his strength. He was not long 
without finding a chance of useful employment that would still leave 
him free to follow his inspiration. A few days after his arrival in 
Rome he heard of a Florentine named Caccia who, with his wife 
'and two small children, resided not far from the Pantheon. He 
went to these good people, begged shelter and such relief as any 
beggar might beg. Nor was he turned away; he was told he 
might abide with them, a small room in the upper part of the house 
.he might consider his own. This room proved his first " Roman 
Oratory." For all during the sixteen years of labor in the schools, 
in the hospitals of Rome, and in various other ways, this will be his 
lodging place. Here he was free to spend his leisure in prayer and 
study ; but he will not abuse the charity of these good people, on 
whom he has no claims but their common love for Florence. He 
will earn his meagre living ; better still, he will repay them super- 
abundantly for their kindness by educating their two children. 
Happy parents ! Happy children ! 

The Roman schools of philosophy and theology were open to 
him, and he needed no money to draw from these fountains. 
Hence, during the three first years of his sojourn in Rome, Philip 
studied philosophy and theology, although he had no idea of becom- 
ing a priest. During these years of humble retirement, of extra- 
ordinary preparation, he would accept only absolutely necessary 
assistance from his friends much to their regret. They, especially 
the children, loved him tenderly and devotedly. He was laying 
deep and strong the foundations of sanctity, humility, and mortifica- 
tion, making a sure groundwork for the spiritual edifice. Those were 
years of violent combat, too, though his friends could not detect in 
him any weakness. He was young, refined ; he was handsome ; he 
was such a youth as even men would turn to look at in the crowded 
streets. Virtue must be tried by temptation; but strong in the 
grace that goes with humility and self-denial and constant vigilance, 
he triumphed. Pleasure no more than riches ever won from him 
the slightest concession. During these sixteen years as a layman 
in Rome his temptations, whatever form they took, were only temp- 
tations. That means so many victories. Not until 1538, four years 
from the time he bade farewell to San Germano, did the race he was 
to run trace itself out to him in a clearly discernible direction. We 
have reached a third turning point in his life ; he will not leave 
Rome, but he will leave the schools. He will give up his studies, 
sell his books, and give the price to the poor. Not solely out of 
compassion for them, but that these beloved books may not distract 
him from God. Have we not seen St. Benedict, who was to be the 



630 THE LOVELINESS OF SANCTITY. [Aug., 

founder of the great schools of the Christian era, fly from the 
schools of the Rome of his day ? Not from fear of pagan corruption, 
however, did Philip leave the schools, for he really loved them. 
But God's ways are not easily analyzed. Therefore, let us say he 
knew enough of what can be taught even in the best schools. 
Knowledge is power, no doubt, but it is no such power as charity. 
The world had grown cold ; it needed examples of charity. Knowl- 
edge was being passionately pursued everywhere at the risk of 
puffing up with pride. If we study with the light of faith the 
signs of those times in which Philip made his singular sacrifice, we 
shall see what it was impelled this student to abandon the schools. 
There is much to learn outside of the schools in all times, but espe- 
cially was this the case in the sixteenth century. 

Philip renounced his books ; if he returns to them, as we shall 
see him do in after years, it will be in obedience to his conscience. 
" It is a remarkable fact, which the history of the saints discloses, 
that few of the founders of the great religious congregations were 
distinguished pre-eminently by their learning, as we interpret the 
word; this light was to be brought on their work by their sons." 
Ignatius was not so learned as Suarez and Bellarmine. St. Philip in 
his congregation is eclipsed as a scholar by Baronio and others. 

Philip was twenty-three or twenty-four years of age, a layman 
and unknown, when he came forth from his hidden life. He did not 
leave his lodgings with the Caccias, but he gave up his long hours of 
study and teaching there. Philip began that life of charity which was 
to spread so widely and be so mighty an aid in the holy work of 
reformation. He anticipates St. Vincent de Paul. It is his charity 
for suffering humanity that drew Philip from his obscurity to the 
Roman hospitals. For twelve years the handsome, modest young 
man, whom so many in Rome love already only from seeing him, 
will fill out an apostolate of brotherly love. He will entice many to 
do the same. Soon after he had begun his pious and charitable 
ministrations in those gloomy, ill-kept hospitals several of Rome's 
richest and noblest might be seen each day in the wards comforting 
by word and deed the poor sufferers who were crowded there. Bad 
as the world may be at any time, always there will be found souls 
ready and anxious to do what is right. The world, any more than 
the individuals who people it, is not totally bad. Always there will 
be much good in it, even when there seems only evil. The leader 
in this movement, which humanitarians would call philanthropic, 
was followed by an evergrowing suite of emulators. It became, not 
the fashion but a beautiful custom, for noble young men, for priests 
and cardinals, for potentates of the classic realms of literature, to 



1889.] THE LOVELINESS OF SANCTITY. 631 

spend some time each day in the visitation and service of the sick 
in the hospitals or in their wretched dwellings we cannot call them 
homes. 

The result was many conversions among the poor invalids whom 
he served so patiently and lovingly, but chiefly among those who at 
first had ridiculed his work because they did not understand it. 
" Love conquereth many things." His love conquered hardened 
hearts ; and foremost among his happy imitators were several who 
had been loudest^ in denouncing him as an innovator. He did not 
confine his ministrations to the sick ; layman though he was, he 
exhorted the people not only privately but in the streets and in the 
shops and in the warehouses and in the banks, and the children in 
the scho'ols; he spoke to them of God, of his love and his justice, 
in the very churches. We are told that in the church of San Salva- 
tore he often spoke to the crowds that had followed him there. 
Strange as it may seem, he was not opposed in this, but was ear- 
nestly besought to respond to the desire of the anxious multitudes, 
who loved to hear him discourse so warmly of God. They believed 
him when he said it was sweet to serve God. Like his Master, he 
was meek and unobtrusive, even when most earnest ; yet tie was 
often earnest unto vehemence, but always lovable. Few were they 
who could go on their frivolous or sinful ways after hearing Philip 
Neri say how noble and wise and sweet it is to walk in paths of vir- 
tue. Indeed, many felt their hearts changed by merely looking at his 
face, so radiant was it with that inner light of love and faith and 
hope. Great must have been his consolations when he saw so much 
of the good seed springing up and bearing fruit. This kind of con- 
solation the saints, the apostolic workers have a right to desire and 
to enjoy, though God, in his wisdom, does not always permit his 
workers to reap here what they have sown. Well for us that we 
have his word for it that no effort on our part, and purely for his 
glory, is ever an ineffectual effort. Capecelatro and all the biog- 
raphers of St. Philip tell of several rich young men who, after hearing 
or seeing the gentle preacher, went and sold their goods and entered 
upon the narrow way of the " counsels." Much of his influence was 
due to what we would call his " personal magnetism," but which was 
besides that the unction of the Holy Spirit. 

St. Ignatius, who was then in Rome, was wont to say that ' as 
the bell calls people to church while it remains itself in the tower, so 
Philip called many to the religious life in various orders, while he 
himself remained in the world." He had devoted himself to the 
rescue of souls from sin, having neither direct office nor mission. 
His one aim was to bring souls to God through repentance, by ex- 



632 THE LOVELINESS OF SANCTITY. [Aug.,. 

ample and discourse, by prayers and tears. His contemporaries tell 
us he went about everywhere, constrained by his ardent love of souls, 
He met many congenial souls, souls like his, all on fire for the 
spread of the kingdom of God on earth. Particular mention should 
be made of St. Camillus, founder of a fraternity known as " the Ser- 
vants of the Sick." The hospitals were likely places for such en- 
counters, and strong and lasting was the friendship that existed be- 
tween these kindred souls. 

But is there nothing of the highest order of gifts to speak of in 
this true story of true love ? Was this most edifying Christian 
whom we have canonized in our hearts, even while his probation 
still endures was he not favored with miracles and visions ? 

While only a layman, with no higher vocation yet manifest than 
to realize in his life the ideal Christian in the world, we have many 
things to tell that would illuminate many pages things of the super- 
natural order far transcending even his extraordinary daily round of 
superhuman activity. Suffice it to say for the present that many 
times, while he was still a child in his parents' home, unmistakable 
signs of the highest form of sanctity were visible sensible trans- 
ports of love for God, abundance of tears at the mere thought of sin, 
to say nothing of several miraculous escapes from peril. Then, dur- 
ing his ministrations of the sick in Rome, many cures are recorded 
as due to the healing power that was given his gentle hand ; his 
kindly look was sufficient to heal not only the soul of the sufferer 
upon whom he smiled or over whom he wept, but even physical 
infirmities oftentimes were suddenly cured. As for the soul-cure, in- 
numerable were the cases of great sinners feeling the touch of 
grace at sight of him, and. lasting conversions were wrought without 
his having even said one word to the repentant ones. We must not 
omit to mention here the frequent bodily encounters of St. Philip 
with the enemy of all good. Several times had the devil under 
various forms tried to shake the constancy of Philip, but always the 
pious and self-denying young man, whom all Rome was beginning 
to call its apostle, came off victor, because always he was armed with 
the weapons of vigilance, mortification, and prayer. 

His love of God was manifested in the most unmistakable way 
through his raptures in prayer. We are told he spent whole nights 
in going from one to another of the great churches in Rome (a 
pilgrimage of ten miles), and this .after days of incessant labor in the 
hospitals, the schools, and the streets. Love must show itself not 
only in mystic communings and silent colloquies, but it betrays itself 
in spite of the rigid strictures humility (the saints' discretion) places 
upon it; even our poor human love chokes the utterance, suffuses 



1889.] THE LOVELINESS OF SANCTITY. 633 

the eye, blanches or burns the cheek, trembles in our whole body, 
" so mighty is a little love " ! It must needs go and do something 
for its object, live for it in labors and perplexities, even die for it 
Now, what if I have caught a glimpse of the Author of Love, of 
his everlasting beauty and goodness and truth ? What if that dim 
glass through which all mortal eyes must look darkly be for a mo- 
ment cleared for me so that it appears to be of crystal transparency? 
Can I ever again feed solely on the beauty of creatures, on 
reflected beauty ? Can I ever again love even the noblest and best 
and dearest creature with an inordinate love ? These are idle 
questionings. Most emphatically have they been answered in the 
negative in the lives of all the holy men and women now feeding on 
the eternal love in heaven, or striving for it here on earth. Love is 
the secret of all things which we in our culpable ignorance term ex- 
travagant, which we even dare to speak of as foolish. If this love 
be the key, the cipher, to the proper reading of the life of a saint, 
let us use no other in endeavoring to make a consistent whole of St. 
Philip's sojourn on earth. Were the expression permitted, we should 
say that he was passionately in love with God. He must needs tell 
all men how lovely are the courts of his Lord. He must wear him- 
self out in the effort to convince the erring children of earth that one 
day spent in those courts is fuller of bliss than thousands of years in 
the palaces of sin. He will succeed in luring many souls into these 
delectable courts, in fact. This will be his characteristic work, the 
making lovable the service of God, especially in his temples work 
so successfully carried on in this our time by his loving and faithful 
sons, the priests of the Oratory, especially in Italy and England. 
The fire that burned in St. Philip's soul, consuming it with the 
desire to draw all men to God, glows unabated in the hearts of his 
worthy successors. 

But was this love, so strong and so warm, always sensibly felt by 
Philip ? In other words, had he ceased to carry on that warfare 
which reduced even the dauntless Paul to cry out, in his weariness, 
for death to relieve him from the fight ? The saints loved always, 
but the joy of love was not always granted them. St. Philip was no 
exception ; he was acquainted with sorrow and weariness and deso- 
lation of soul. He, like all of them, the blessed children of God, 
"ate his heart away" in homesickness. He, too, felt that "the 
night was dark, and he was far from home." So must we all, if 
we expect to rejoice for ever in that home, where the "kindly Light " 
shines no more through mists and vapors, but in undimmed splendor 

and beauty. 

Some of the saints were given, we know, to show us literally 



634 THE LOVELINESS OF SANCTITY. [Aug., 

what St. Paul calls carrying in our body the sufferings of Christ. 
We speak of the stigmata of St. Francis Assisi ; the crown of 
thorns of St. Catherine of Siena. Was St. Philip favored with any- 
thing of this kind as a love-token ? The following is condensed 
from what Capecelatro tells us in his admirable work. He speaks of 
an extraordinary mark left on the body of our saint. We may look 
upon it as the symbol expressive of the work he was to accomplish. 
In the sixteenth century, as in the nineteenth and all through the 
centuries of the Christian era, the Roman catacombs have been con- 
sidered holy places, and up to the eighth century we know it was 
customary for pious pilgrims to resort there for prayer and medita- 
tion, even though these pilgrimages were fraught with many dan- 
gers, so many, in fact, that from the eighth until the early part of 
this century nearly all these subterranean sanctuaries were literally 
closed up, closed to archaeologists as well as to pilgrims. But 
among the few open in St. Philip's time the catacomb of St. Sebastian 
was often frequented by those who loved to linger where were 
" deposited in peace " so many of the early witnesses of that church 
which in the sixteenth century was being abandoned by many of 
her unworthy children. It is easy for us to conceive the peculiar 
attraction this seclusion exercised over Philip's soul. He knew well 
what allowances must be made for the inevitable changes in outer 
things the successive ages had brought and would continue to bring. 
But he knew, too, that the spirit which animated the earliest Catho- 
lic pontiffs and priests and people was the same spirit which, though 
seemingly dormant in many, was not dead, could not die, and here 
he would go, inspired by the very spirit he was so anxious to re- 
awaken. And here it is, on the occasion of one of his retreats, that 
a most extraordinary favor was granted him. Here he received the 
impression of the stigmata, not in his hands and feet, like St. Francis; 
the precious memento of his crucified Love was really, physically, 
visibly left on his heart. Visibly? Yes; as exhibited in the protruding 
and abnormally arched appearance of the two ribs over the heart; his 
heart during the rest of his life was physically enlarged beyond the 
ken of all the physicians of Rome to explain. The medical faculty of 
Rome was not unfamiliar with that disease of the heart known as en- 
largement, but Philip's disease was not of the kind for which a cure has 
to be sought, rather it was of that kind which it would be well for all 
men were it contagious. Philip, in his humility, however, was pleased 
ever afterward that men should speak of this miracle as of a disease. 
This grace was received on the Feast of Pentecost, 1544, 
the day of the commemoration of the descent of the Spirit of Love 
in the form of a ball of fire, which we know divided and visibly 



-i 889.] THE LOVELINESS OF SANCTITY. 635 

rested on the head of each one of the eleven Apostles and of the 
Blessed Queen of the Apostles in the shape of tongues of flame. 
In like manner, " the apostolate of Philip had its Pentecost. He 
was still living in the world ; he had no companions yet in his min- 
istry; hence none were present with him at the miracle of the cata- 
combs, at his second confirmation. It is not the tongue of fire that 
he will receive ; but his heart is to be a heart of fire. Therefore the 
.symbol will be a flame, whole and rounded, which goes down into 
his heart and pervades and clothes it." 

This happened six years before his entering into Holy Orders. 
High, indeed, was his preparation for the priesthood ; high the 
example he left in the world for the encouragement of the great 
multitude of men who are not called to the service of the altar as 
ministers direct, nor to the heights of religious perfection. His 
transfiguration in the dim catacomb of St. Sebastian was his glimpse 
of the eternal beatitude. " It was but a passing gleam, too bright 
to last in its sensible form," ... but " the great and abiding 
reality was a fulness of love which had in him effects most astonish- 
ing.' From that day until his death he felt that fever of love which 
externally showed itself in the burning of his breast, the glow of 
his face, the glistening of his eyes, the trembling of his body. The 
two ribs remained displaced throughout his life ; one of these pre- 
vious relics is the treasure of the Oratorians in Naples. It was 
given to them by Pope Urban VIII. in 1639. 

A giant step had been taken by the future founder of a congre- 
gation of priests whose success was to do so much towards asserting 
the sanctifying power of the church, then so vilely misrepresented 
by Protestantism. It remains for us not to measure that gigantic 
:step, but to note the strides he made from that day in his apostolic 
career. Already the work of true reformation was begun. New 
congregations of men and women were organized, and the primitive 
fervor restored in some of the older ones. It suffices to mention the 
Society of Jesus, the Barnabites, the Camaldolese, the Capuchins, 
the Clerks Regular, the Somaschi ; all these date from about 1648. 
Powerful arguments these against the men who proclaimed that the 
church had lost her power of generation. Philip must have been 
much comforted by all these signs of healthy vigor. His love for 
his fellow-men had grown with his love for God. More assiduously, 
more tenderly than ever did he serve them in the hospitals, exhort 
them wherever he met them, urging them on to try and see how 
easy is the road when borne on wings of love. It is at this period 
of his life that he became so much identified with the schools 01 
Rome that all school-children may claim him as their patron saint. 

VOL. XLIX. 41 



636 THE LOVELINESS OF SANCTITY, [Aug.,, 

It is also about this time he founded his pious congregation known 
as the " Trinita dei Pellegrini." Philip was not yet a priest, nor 
could he bring himself to think of ever becoming one, so great was 
his humility, so exalted his idea of the priesthood. He could not, 
therefore, presume to form a congregation of priests, much less at- 
tempt a reform of the clergy. Nevertheless, it is what he will do ; he 
will enlarge upon the idea of St. Cajetan. This other great reformer 
had organized an association of priests known as " The Oratory of 
Divine Love," whose fame had already spread throughout Italy. 

St. Philip, in concert with his confessor, "began on the i6th of 
August, 1548, the Confraternity of Pilgrims and of the Conval- 
escent." They assembled in the Church of St. Salvatore in Campo. 
Their devotional exercises were the same as those of the Oratory: 
the worship of God, prayer in common, and preaching. The 
difference arose from the fact that St. Cajetan was a priest who had 
friends in high places, most prominent among whom was Cardinal 
Caraffa, afterwards Pope Paul IV. He thus gathered around him the 
flower of the clergy. Philip was yet a young man, a mere layman, 
though not unknown to some of the great ones. He began with 
fifteen persons, all living in the world, pious but poor and simple. 
How does it sound for lost vitality of the church to read that fifty 
years later, during the jubilee of 1600, this confraternity enter- 
tained in three days 444,500 pilgrims, besides 25,000 women, nearly 
one half-million people ? The Oratorians met for works of piety 
only, while the brethren of St. Philip, apart from prayer, were 
engaged in works of broadest charity. They were the philan- 
thropists of the sixteenth century. These men had no mission to 
preach ; hence at their meetings they simply talked of God. .Talk- 
ing of God! Yes, that was St. Philip Neri's mode of preaching. 
Nor did he change in after years when a priest, though his ministry 
was to be carried on chiefly by preaching. Let those whose privi- 
lege it has been to hear the dear, sweet Father Faber discourse 

4 

of the ' Easy Ways of Divine Love," of the ; Precious Blood," 
of the " Creator and the Creature," say whether such preaching 
can be superseded. How many tired souls are being refreshed and 
made lightsome and warm again by the continued ministrations of 
the gentle, lovely saint who lives in every one of his devoted sons ! 

The sequel of this beautiful love-story will show us the humble 
servant of the pilgrims and of the sick and poor, ever more humble, 
though his gloryjgrows apace. St. Philip the Priest remains to be 
spoken of; but were his career to. have ended here, in his thirty- 
sixth year, could we question the loveliness of his sanctity or the 
sanctity of his loveliness? M. L. M. 

Ottawa, Ont. 



iSSo.] BOOKS AND How TO USE THEM. 637 



BOOKS AND HOW TO USE THEM. 

II. 



SHOULD you ask me what to read I could not give you a definite 
answer. The choice will greatly depend on yourself. Lists of 
books, except for the pursuit of special lines of study, are value- 
less. You have before you the' whole range of literature and 
thought, from Alice in Wonderland* child's book which we none 
of us are too old to profit by to that late beautiful creation of a 
mother's love and a woman's genius, Little Lord Fauntleroy ; from 
the primers of science to the Mecanique Celeste of Laplace ; from 
the fairy-tales of boyhood to the great thinkers ; historians, poets, 
orators, philosophers, political economists all place their wealth at 
your feet and ask you to make it your own. Before selecting, draw 
the line between the literature of the hour, that is so much foam 
upon the current of time, flecking its surface for a moment and 
passing away into oblivion, and the literature of all time, whose 
foundations are deeply laid in human nature and whose structure 
withstands the storms of adversity and the eddies of events. The 
literature of the hour we cannot ignore; it has its uses; but we may 
and ought to guard against wasting more time and energy upon it 
than is absolutely necessary. 

The daily press is flooding us with sensation and distraction. 
It were the height of unwisdom in us to devote any but the most 
limited time to our morning paper. The monthly magazine and the 
quarterly review also claim our attention. The story is told of 
Madame de Stae'l, how she asked Fichte to give her in a short 
quarter of an hour an idea of his philosophy. The philosopher was 
horrified at the thought that anybody could in so few minutes take 
in the meaning of a system that had been for him a life-labor. Well, 
that which caused Fichte to shudder is now of every-day occurrence. 
The magazines and reviews come to us laden with articles on every 
conceivable topic, in which the learned of the world condense their 
life-studies; and within little more than a quarter of an hour we are 
enabled to become familiar with issues that it would take us years 
to master to the degree of our newly-acquired knowledge. Is this 
a boon ? The knowledge so acquired cannot be rightly appre- 
hended unless we have brought to it previous special training. It is 
simply a cramming of undigested facts. It is not culture. Culture 



638 BOOKS AND How TO USE THEM. [Aug., 

implies severe mental discipline, continuous training, and methodical 
study of the best thought and most polished expression. Magazine 
articles can be of use when judiciously selected and read with care. 
Do not attempt to read all. Choose those only that are in your 
line of reading. In these remarks I have in view the secular press. 
But we Catholics must not forget that there is also a religious press, 
and that it is an imperative duty upon us to support that press. 
Much good is done by every well-edited Catholic journal. Now, 
many of our Catholic weeklies are instructive, edifying, and improv- 
ing. Their editorials serve as an antidote to correct the poisonous 
effects of the venom frequently instilled into the daily press. They 
determine our bearings as Catholics upon the issues of the day. 
They signal to us the dangers that beset us. This is in a higher 
degree true of our Catholic magazines. Those published amongst 
us are few, and are easily enumerated. There is the Ave Maria. 
Weekly does it place at the feet of Mary a bouquet of flowers, 
rare and choice, contributed by the most graceful Catholic 
writers. There is THE CATHOLIC WORLD. Every month it comes 
upon our tables laden down with strong food for reflection and 
sweetmeats for amusement. You cannot pick up a number without 
finding amid its great variety something to suit every taste. There 
is the American Catholic Quarterly Review, edited by one of the 
most erudite among scholars, and treating every topic in the light of 
Catholic theology and Catholic philosophy from an elevated plane 
of view. It may interest you to know that cultured non-Catholics 
are among its most constant readers, regarding it as the fullest and 
most authoritative expression of Catholic opinion in America. 

Memoirs and biographies and books of travel and manuals of 
popular science form the staple of our reading, and instructive and 
entertaining reading they make ; but we must bear in mind that the 
ninety-nine hundredths of them are books of the hour, satisfying 
the wants of the hour and nothing more. They excite a momentary 
interest, and are then forgotten. Let them not monopolize all your 
spare time. The only biography in our language which has passed 
into the literature of all time is Boswell's Life of Johnson* Auto- 

* There is one biography which I would like to see in the hands of every Catholic young 
man. It is Frederic Ozanam : His Life and his Works, by the late Kathleen O'Meara. I can 
introduce it to you in no more fitting words than those I have used elsewhere : 

" The second London edition, now before us, has been found worthy of a long and valuable 
introduction from the pen of Cardinal Manning, to what His Eminence calls ' this deeply in- 
teresting narrative.' With great firmness of grasp the author handles the salient events of the 
day, and groups around Ozanam all the leading characters of that most interesting period of 
French history interesting above all to the Catholic student and follows her hero through the 
whirl and turmoil of Paris, and notes amid the seething of thought that was then going on in 
all active brains the self-possessed student through ' eighteen years of great intellectual and 
spiritual intensity' (Cardinal Manning's preface, p. 9), strong, energetic, earnest, carving his 



1 889.] BOOKS AND Ho iv TO USE THEM. 639 

biography has been recently most disastrous to the writers thereof. 
Mark Pattison, who seems to have written in order to vent a per- 
sonal spite ; John Stuart Mill, Carlyle all wrote themselves down 
overestimated idols with feet of clay. The one exception is that 
admirable piece of soul-dissection, so outspoken, with honesty 
written on every page; that revealing of a soul to which tens of 
thousands are bound up by ties of gratitude, love, and admiration 
the Apologia of Cardinal Newman, a book which will henceforth rank 
with the Confessions of St. Augustine. 

And here I would ask you to distinguish between the suggestive 
book that sets you thinking, and after reading which you wish for 
more, and the book that leaves nothing unsaid, and in a measure 
does all your thinking. I need scarcely tell you that the suggestive 
book makes the more profitable reading. It is invigorating ; it is of 
the highest order of writing. All the world authors Plato, Aris- 
totle, Dante, a Kempis, Shakspere, Goethe are eminently sugges- 
tive. They exhaust no train of thought ; they are content to desig- 
nate the lines on which the reader should travel in order to attain 
the goal. Hence the libraries of books that have been written, and 
that will continue to be written, upon each of these without ever 
exhausting their infinite suggestiveness. The suggestive book may 
be great or small. A modern suggestive book should be confined 
within a small compass. Would that I could bring home to writers 
the ease with which this may be done ! How much weariness of 
spirit the reading world would then be spared ! The process is sim- 
ple. Let the writer reject from his book whatever there is of pad- 
ding, of negations, of repetitions of things that have been better said 
by others ; let him eschew all grandiloquent description and what is 

way to eminence, and inspiring youthful souls with his own chivalric impulses. Faithfully she 
traces his footsteps as, weak in body, he wanders through many lands in search of the health 
that was ebbing fast away from him ; but, well or ill, always returning weighted down with 
erudition gathered from musty tomes hidden away in the recesses of dust-laden libraries; now 
picking up legends in Catholic Brittany ; now culling flowers of sweetest poesy and song in the 
garden of St. Francis of Assisi ; now imbibing inspiration in the land of the Cid ; now following 
the slow and solemn tread of the great Dante, delving into that inexhaustible mine of high 
thought, the Divina Commedia glad always and above all things when he could establish a 
branch of his dear Confraternity of St. Vincent de Paul. It is all told with an indescribable 
charm. . . . 

" Had Kathleen O'Meara left no other work from her pen than this biography she would 
well deserve the gratitude of Catholics. If we were asked what book we would recommend 
to be placed in the hands of young men in order to quicken their sympathies in behalf of misery 
and suffering, and aid the good that is in them to bloom out and bear fruit, we should name 
without fear of demur of contradiction Kathleen O'Meara's Frederic Ozanam. It is a story of 
great talent utilized and bearing compound interest; an illustration of great opportunities 
created and seized upon and used to advantage ; a revelation of sweet and charming domestic 
virtues. In Ozanam we behold the man of the world whose pulse beats in sympathy with all 
the literary, political, and social movements of the day ; the ripe scholar, the unwearied student, 
and the beautiful, saintly soul. The book is strong enough to mark an epoch in the life of any 
thoughtful Catholic young man." The Ave Maria, March 16, 1889. 



640 BOOKS AND How TO USE THEM. [Aug., 

called fine writing ; let him confine himself to his subject, meeting 
difficulties and objections in the clear light of the predominant idea, 
condensing whole chapters into paragraphs, whole paragraphs into 
sentences, whole sentences into single words and phrases. In this 
manner may books be written in keeping with the busy life men lead 
and the many claims of the age that press upon them. In this man- 
ner would there be less waste of paper, less waste of ink, less waste 
of labor, less brain-waste; the millennium of the reading world would 
be at hand. The reading of strong and terse writing fires the soul 
and strengthens the intellect; the reading of emasculated books will 
make emasculated intellects. 

I need scarcely tell you that the great bulk of the novels of the 
day are of the lightest froth. It were intellectual suicide to spend 
one's time and waste one's energies unravelling improbable plots or 
watching puppets of the brain mere wax -works dance before one 
through page after page and volume after volume, leaving it difficult 
to determine which is deserving of most censure, the presumption of 
the writer in rushing into print, his bad taste, or the mongrel lan- 
guage in which he expresses himself. The British Museum recently 
made a rule to let out no novels to readers till after the expiration of 
five years. How many of the novels published in this year of grace 
will be read five years hence ? Ask the Mudie or any other circulat- 
ing library what is the duration of the popularity of books of which 
the presses, worked day and night, were unable to supply the 
demand. The popularity of the hour is no criterion of worth. Ben 
Hur lay long months untouched upon the publishers' shelves before 
men awakened to its beauty and power ; Lorna Doone was for years 
struggling into public recognition ; and who that has read Dion and 
the Sybils will say that it has yet received a tithe of its full measure of 
justice ? The popularity of the hour is most misleading. Among 
living authors the one that bids fairest to become a classic I regret 
that I cannot unreservedly recommend him is one who worked for 
years in poverty and obscurity before obtaining recognition ; even at 
the present moment his readers are limited. His prose is as repel- 
lent to the casual reader as is the poetry of Robert Browning. But, 
like Browning, he is a keen analyzer of human motives ; every novel 
is a soul-study, and almost every sentence is an epigram. I allude 
to George Meredith. A careful study of his Diana of the Crossways 
the original of which, by the way, was the Hon. Mrs. Norton 
will give you some insight into his great power and unrivalled 
merit. 

But there is no dearth of novels that have passed the ordeal of 
time and are pronounced classic. Scott is still read, and will con- 



1889.] BOOKS AND How TO USE THEM. 641 

tinue to be read as long as men will appreciate the spontaneous out- 
pourings of a genius who writes as the blackbird sings. There is 
about his novels the freshness of the morning dew. We Catholics 
will pardon him the misrepresentations of our monks and the carica- 
tures of our religious practices that disfigure some of his pages, for 
we know that he bore us no malice, and had he known better he 
would have done us more justice. The large majority of his books 
are wholesome reading. 

Though we have no single great national novel, either for Amer- 
ica or for England, as Cervantes' Don Quixote is for the Spanish ; 
.as Manzoni's / Promessi Sposi is for the Italians ; as Tolstoi's Anna 
Karenina, that great prose epic of Russian life in its good and 
its bad aspects, is for the Russians; still, in Dickens, in several 
of Bulwer Lytton's My Novel, for instance, and nearly all his 
later ones in the great modern master of novelists, him of the 
big heart and the generous sympathy, that great lay preacher and 
critic of manners, who has written such classic prose and given us 
:such grand character-studies in Vanity Fair and Pendennis and 
Henry Esmond and The Newcomes in all these and many others 
we can find amusement, instruction, and improvement. It will in- 
terest my readers to know that Thackeray was in strong sympathy 
with the Catholic Church. . His bosom friend, William B. Read, of 
Philadelphia, in a valuable little book, published anonymously and 
now very scarce, bears witness to the fact ; and I quote his words all 
the more willingly, for the reason that when this essay of Mr. Read's 
was republished in a series printed in New York the interesting 
passage was omitted. Bigotry dies hard. " Thackeray," says his 
friend, " was in one sense not a technical one a religious, or, 
rather, a devout, man, and I have sometimes fancied (start not, Pro- 
testant reader ! ) that he had a sentimental leaning to the church of 
Christian antiquity. Certain it is he never sneered at it or dispar- 
aged it. 'After all,' said he one night to him who writes these 
notes, driving through the streets of an American city, and passing 
a Roman Catholic cathedral, ' that is the only thing that can be 
called a church.' " We will think none the less kindly of Thackeray 
for this good word. I know no better antidote against a craving 
for the trashy stuff that is now flooding the world than to make a 
thorough study of one or other of the great novelists. After one 
has become accustomed to fare on wholesome food one is not apt to 
feed on husks and swallow swill. 

Not but that among novels, as among poems, which have not 
yet received the sanction of time we perceive many a gem bringing 
liome to us many a beautiful lesson, and we may humbly and thank- 



642 BOOKS AND How TO USE THEM, [Aug.,. 

fully accept the gift. I find in several of our living writers purpose, 
style, and art of a high order. One of the most successful of them 
Mr. W. D. Howells once remarked to me that he could no more 
conceive a novel without a purpose than an arch without a key- 
stone. Various are the ways in which the goodness of that purpose 
may be shown : now it is to place before us an ideal of life in its 
diverse phases, now to caution us against some of the evils gnawing 
at the vitals of society, now to bring the past nearer, now to photo- 
graph glimpses of an order of things passing away for ever, now to 
put us in presence of higher truths ; and we have well-written and 
powerful novels illustrative of all these ways. To mention names 
were tedious. 

I am not unmindful of the distinctively Catholic novel. It is of 
recent growth on English soil. That eminent churchman and 
scholar, Cardinal Wiseman, saw in the Last Days of Pompeii the 
model of an idea which, carried out, might prove most fruitful in 
bringing before the minds of the people a vivid picture of the Chris- 
tian Church passing through the various stages of her struggles and 
her triumphs. His fertile brain accordingly projected a series of 
novels intended to rehabilitate the past, and, with his usual versatil- 
ity, he turned aside from his oriental and scientific studies, and led 
the way in that delightful story of Fabiola, which continues to be 
read with unabated interest. Then followed Callista, a classic of 
finer fibre and more delicate structure, abounding in subtle traits of 
character, and penetrated with that keen sense of the beautiful so 
peculiar to the Grecian mind. It is a book that grows upon one 
with every successive perusal. Other works of merit were modelled 
on these, and though the list is short, it is select. 

Nor am I unmindful of a number of living writers professing the 
Catholic faith whose pens, though not devoted to exclusively Catho- 
lic subjects, have produced, and still produce, good reading. Two 
of the most prominent Lady Georgiana Fullerton and Kathleen 
O'Meara have recently dropped out of the list. Rosa Mulholland, 
Christian Reid, Annie Keary, Mrs. Cashel-Hoey, Miss Tincker in 
her earlier works Richard Malcolm Johnston, Justin McCarthy, 
Marion Crawford with some exceptions the Rev. John Talbot 
Smith, Maurice Francis Egan, and those two honored pioneers of the 
Catholic novel in America, Mrs. James Sadlier and Mrs. Hanson 
Dorsey, are among those that recur to memory. I name them for 
the reason that all of them have left some work and exercised some 
influence for which we may be grateful. 

But there is now coming into vogue a pernicious species of novel, 
all the more dangerous because of its insidiousness. It is not open- 



1889.] BOOKS AND How TO USE THEM. 645 

ly immoral. It is, as a rule, artistically written, and loudly praised 
by the critics in sympathy with its principles. It is the novel of pes- 
simism. Not only is it anti-Christian in its spirit, but it is even anti- 
human. It represents men and women under the cold and barren 
influence of agnosticism or positivism either system has the same 
ultimate result with their theories filtered through their lives and 
moulding their opinions and characters. Within its pages you look 
in vain for a Providence, immortality, spiritual existence. Its sum- 
mary of all life is a natural development of the physical man or 
woman, happy in the airy fancies youth weaves; then a crisis which 
precipitates all illusions ; afterwards hardened feelings, bitterness in 
speech, and either railings at all life or the resignation of despair, 
recklessly, hopelessly submitting to the Must-be. You cannot detect 
its subtle influence till it has left the iron in your soul, and the sweet 
prayers of your childhood have grown insipid, and the ritual and 
ceremonies of the church have lost their attraction, and you no- 
longer think of God and your future with the same concern. It is in- 
steering clear of such novels that direction is especially necessary. 

It is only within the present century that English-speaking 
Catholics have begun to build up a distinctively Catholic literature. 
During the eighteenth century our English and Irish missionaries 
found it difficult to live. The hardships and privations they endured 
were most exhausting. And yet their pens were not idle. Their 
people needed plain and solid instruction, and they met the want.' 
They placed in their hands the Rheims-Douay version of the Sacred 
Scriptures. Bishop Challoner wrote his Catholic Christian Instructed ; 
Bishop Hay was led into the church by the reading of an anony- 
mous pamphlet, Papists Represented and Misrepresented, and after- 
wards put out those beautiful works of doctrine, The Pious Christian, 
The Devout Christian, The Sincere Christian; Bishop Hornihold 
explained the Commandments and Sacraments ; Dr. Husenbeth 
wrote on the Creed ; Bishop Milner wrote his admirable End of Con- 
troversy ; Alban Butler left us that great monument of erudition and 
repository of learning, his Lives of the Saints. Bishop Walmesley was 
a man of vast scientific attainments, and was one of the mathemati- 
cians employed to regulate the calendar preparatory to the adoption 
of the New Style in 1752.* This was the nature of the work done 
by our clergy in the eighteenth century. It was not brilliant, but it 
was solid, useful, and necessary work. These men did not cultivate 
style. They were obliged to study abroad, and after spending years 

* See Allibone's Dictionary of Authors for a list of his religious and scientific books in 
Latin, French, and English. Several of his MSS. were burned in the anti-Catholic riots of 
1780. 



644 BOOKS AND Hoiv TO USE THEM. [Aug., 

on the Continent, they returned to England with foreign accents ring- 
'ing in their ears and foreign idioms slipping into their writings. 

English classical literature, since the days of Spenser and Shaks- 
pere, has been Protestant. The authors who have helped to build up 
our language ; the authors from whom we cull those expressions that 
have become part and parcel of our daily thinking ; the authors to 
whose pages we refer for the allusions in which the writings of the 
day abound are, with a few exceptions, in spirit and tone Protestant. 
And yet it is a surprise and a happiness to know that outside the 
domain of history, which has been shamefully perverted by the 
Burnets, the Robertsons, the Gibbons, the Humes, the Macaulays, 
.and the Froudes, a Catholic can take home to himself a goodly por- 
tion of this literature without having his Catholic instincts wounded 
or his moral sense blunted. I have strayed into many fields of lit- 
erature, and culled flowers in many languages, and I can bear witness 
that whilst there are certain works in other languages which I ap- 
preciate more highly than works of the same grade in our own 
tongue, still, taking the literature of various countries as a whole, 
there is none of less objectionable character and of more elevating 
tone than is English literature, in its grand roll of authors from 
Widsith, the old English gleeman of the third century, down to 
the present laureate. But for this boon we are not to thank 
the Protestantism of England. It is rather due to the fact that the 
roots of English literature struck deep in Catholic soil, and the con- 
servative character of the English people kept up the Catholic spirit 
and Catholic traditions long after the very name of Catholic had be- 
come offensive. That Catholic spirit still lingers in the cloistered 
aisles and corridors of Oxford. It hovers over the vacant tomb of 
Edward the Confessor within the hallowed walls of Westminster Ab- 
bey. It speaks in dome and pillared town throughout the land, " of 
which every arch has its scroll teaching Catholic wisdom, and every 
window represents some canonized saint."* It breathes through the 
Catholic prayers still preserved in the Book of Common Prayer. It 
has become transfused into some of the noblest passages in Paradise 
Lost ; the Arianism and the Protestantism are Milton's own; but his no- 
ble lines clothe many a sentiment of tenderness and sublimity culled 
from the pages of Caedmon, St. Avitus, the Catholic mediaeval miracle 
plays, and the Catholic drama, "Lucifer," of Voudel, the great Catho- 
lic and national poet of Holland. f It lurks in the Pilgrims Prog- 
ress, as much of it as John Bunyan chose to spell out of the prose 
translation of the original Pilgrim's Progress, Le Pclcrinage de. 

* Kenelm Digby : Mores Catholici, vol. i. p. 22. 

t Francis Junius introduced Milton to Caedmon ; Roger Williams, of Rhode Island, taught 
him the language of Voudel. 



1889.] BOOKS AND How TO USE THEM. 645 

V Homme of the Cistercian monk, Guillaume de Deguilleville.* It 
is our Catholic heritage of thought and sentiment that has inspired 
the sublimest passages in our Wordsworths and Tennysons, our 
Longfellows and Lowells. And whatever Shakspere may have 
been in practice, the whole spirit of his immortal plays is Catholic- 
Even Carlyle regards him as the flowering of mediaeval Catholicism.! 
" Indeed," says Digby, "a book might be composed on the latent 
Catholicism of many natives of this country, where everything solid 
and valuable is, after all, either a remnant or a revival of Catholic 
thinking or institution."! 

All honor, then, to those who at many and great sacrifices, and 
actuated by the pure love of God and their religion, have sought 
to wrest back for us a portion of our Catholic heritage in English 
literature. Do you ever bring home to you what these sacrifices 
may be ? Take the conscientious Catholic publisher. He would 
rather see his house burned down than knowingly print a single 
sentence contrary to the teachings of the church. He invests time, 
energy, and capital in the printing and selling of Catholic books. 
How is his work appreciated ? How is it patronized ? Take the 
editors of our ablest Catholic periodicals. Are they properly 
remunerated ? The managers of our ablest Catholic periodicals 
will tell you that their journals whether weekly or monthly have 
not, with few anomalous exceptions, circulation sufficient to pro- 
vide competently for the editors. Take our Catholic authors. Do 
those of them writing exclusively Catholic literature fare any 
better ? Cardinal Manning recently remarked that when he was a 
Protestant he wrote books and made money by them, but since he 
became a Catholic his books brought him little or nothing. Have 
we not actually known, within the last decade, one of the most 
scholarly Catholic writers in London to die in want ? For such was 
the fate of S. Hubert Burke, whose portraits of the men and women 
of the Reformation in England are so clear and truthful and the 
best refutation extant of the romancings of Froude. Let us say it 
aloud: Catholics do not patronize and encourage Catholic books and 
the Catholic press as they might. 

*Not The Wandering Knight of Jean de Cartheny, as has been recently asserted; not 
even, perhaps, the complete copy of the Pilgrimage of the Lyfof the Manhode, which I have be- 
fore me ; but an abridgment of it which, Mr. Wright tells us, was copied and circulated in 
MS. in the seventeenth century (Pilgrimage of the Lyf of Manhode, preface, p. x.) John Lyd- 
gate made a poetical translation ol the poem in 1426. There are two copies of it in the British 
Museum, the best of which is in the Cottonian Collection (Vitellius, c. xiii. foil. 2-308). 

\FrenchRevolution, b. i. ch. i. 

\Mores Catholici, vol. i. p. 25. Mr. P. O'Shea has made American Catholics his debtors 
by the publication of this magnificent work, hitherto so long out of print, hard to procure, 
and expensive. It is a great Catholic classic. The moire it is read the better it will be appre- 
ciated. 



646 BOOKS A. YD HO IV TO USE THEM. [Aug.,, 

There are names connected with Catholic literature in America 
that we all should ever hold in honor and benediction. Such is 
the name of Orestes A. Brownson. Do we realize all the greatness 
covered by that name ? America has produced no more powerful 
intellect than Brownson's. There was no problem, social, political, 
religious, or philosophical, that he did not grapple with and find an 
answer for. After trying creed upon creed to find out the hollow- 
ness of each, the aspirations of his strong and generous nature and 
the invincible logic of his acute intellect led him into the church in 
the strength and maturity of his manhood. Forthwith he con- 
secrated his pen to the vindication of that church and the defence 
of her doctrines against all comers. Mediaeval knight never bore 
lance with greater singleness of purpose, or with more bravery and 
determination, in the cause of his lady-love than did Brownson 
wield his pen in behalf of the church. To his dying breath he was 
faithful to his vow. He viewed, and taught others to view, the 
doctrines of the church from an elevated plane, from which they 
were taken in as a whole and all their grandeur and beauty revealed 
to advantage. Men might differ with him in politics his political 
opinions were odious to the great bulk of his readers ; men might 
differ with him in criticism his literary canons were frequently 
narrow and inadequate ; men might differ with him in philosophy 
his language smacked too much of Gioberti to please the intellect 
trained on exclusively scholastic lines ; he may have been mis- 
taken in matters of theology in unguarded moments, in the heat 
of controversy, he sometimes expressed himself in language that 
a more trained theologian would not employ, or would modify 
considerably ; but he was still great ; there remained in him enough 
to inspire and elevate.* The very ring of his sentences was a 

* Brownson himself, in his old age, with all the candor and humility of a great and noble 
s/Dul, recognized his own shortcomings in the following generous sentences: "I have always 
regretted that circumstances not under my control seemed to compel me to Appear as a Catholic 
reviewer on the morrow of my reception into the church, while almost totally ignorant of 
Catholic theology, and still more ignorant of Catholic life and usages ; and I have often ad- 
mired in later years the wondrous charity of the Catholic bishops and clergy in overlooking 
the crudeness and inexperience, if not the overweening confidence, of the neophyte, and in 
giving a generous support to his Review, notwithstanding the manifest inaptness of its editor. 
It is true I studied hard day and night for several years, under an able master, to supply my 
deficiency ; and, also, that I published very little which was not previously examined and 
revised by one of the ablest and soundest theologians I have ever personally known ; but it 
was a great drawback upon the usefulness of the Review that its editor and principal writer had 
not had leisure previously to make his course of theology and to place himself en rapport with 
the Catholic community, and that he had in every successive number to write up to the very 
limits of his knowledge, if not sometimes beyond them. I had always to write as an appren- 
tice, never as a master. I have not made much progress in the knowledge of theology, and 
still less of spiritual life ; I have also forgotten much of what I had acquired ; but I have- 
learned this much not to venture beyond my depth, and not to broach questions that I have 
not mastered, or, at least, think I have mastered. If 1 could have done so in the beginning, I 
should have spared myself and my friends many mortifications." Brownson s Works, vol. xix. 
P- 587- 



1889.] , BOOKS AND How TO USE THEM. 647 

trumpet-blast to us of the rising generation. He taught us how 
to take our stand upon his own high plane of thought, and thence 
survey the beautiful harmony of our creed with all that is good 
and noble in the natural world. He brought home not to us 

alone, but to the cultured intellect throughout the Christian world 

for he had admirers in all parts and among all creeds the great 
truths of natural and revealed religion with a grasp, a force, and 
an energy of expression worthy of an Aquinas. We were led to 
hold up our heads and to be proud of the faith that could inspire 
such sublime thoughts and control such a noble nature. His 
great intellect was only equalled by his profound humility. Once 
his bishop told him that in consequence of some objectionable 
tenets in his Review he would be obliged to censure him publicly. 
The old man's reply was : " Bishop, you may condemn and burn 
my books if you will, but by the grace of God I shall die a 
Catholic." And a docile, pious, believing child of the church he 
died. We of America owe Brownson a debt of gratitude that our 
children's children can but ill requite. 

When Brownson was already a leader among men there used sit 
at his feet a youth whom he looked kindly on, and who afterwards, 
growing into manhood, threw aside the shackles of prejudice and 
error, and entering the church, became a freeman with the freedom 
that truth alone gives.* To speak of books or of reading and not to 
mention the name of Father Hecker were an unpardonable over- 
sight. Only three short months ago he passed away from amongst 
us, and the wail of regret that went up throughout the land still 
echoes in our ears. Would that I could speak worthily of him ! He 
was a man of generous impulse and noble aspirations, who thought 
better of the world than the world has deserved. His thirst for souls 
was insatiable. Having learned how good it was to live within the 
pale of the church, he would bring all men to share his peace and 
his joy. He loved American youths with the eager, hungering love 
of a father who saw his children in danger of drowning and would 
save them at any cost. He felt the pulse of the American youth, 
divined his yearnings, laid bare to him his better aspirations, and 
showed him where every beat of his heart and every question of his 
soul would find satisfactory response. You could not be in his pres- 
ence for five minutes without feeling your soul set aflame with the 
same pure and noble fervor that was ever urging him on to make 

* He says of his conversion: " It was one of the happiest moments of our life when we 
discovered for the first time that it was not required of us either to abandon our reason or 
drown it in a false excitement of feeling to be a religious nan. That to become Catholic, so 
far from being contrary to reason, was a supreme act of reason." Aspirations of the Soul, 
p. 286. 



648 BOOKS AND How TO USE THEM. [Aug., 

for the best. He was in an especial manner the apostle of Chris- 
tian culture. He loved good books ; he encouraged others to read 
good books ; he inspired many to write good books ; he freely dis- 
seminated good books. The Catholic Publication Society is a 
standing testimony to his zeal and energy in the cause of good 
Catholic reading. It was under his fostering hand that THE CATH- 
OLIC WORLD grew up and flourished. His own works abound m 
that strong common sense so dear to the American mind. Who 
can number the souls that, weary and parched in traversing the arid 
sands of philosophic speculation, have stopped and drunk of the 
pure crystal waters of clear, philosophic good sense flowing from 
his refreshing volumes, and, strengthened, have resumed their 
journey with new-found hope that has cheered them on to a 
home and a resting-place in the Church of God ? He has passed 
from amongst us, but his spirit still lives in devoted disciples of 
his, who are carrying on his work as he would have it carried 
on, in the spirit of charity for man, zeal for souls, and an abiding 
trust in the practical good sense of the American people. 

And there has fallen another whose life was an apostolate sacri- 
ficed for the Catholic press. He fell in the breach ; fell fighting 
till summoned by the death-knell ; fell with aspirations unrealized, 
plans and projects unachieved ; fell in the noon-day of his life, 
feeling that while he had done something he had left much more 
undone. Only the friends that knew him intimately and were 
favored with an insight into his noble aspirations and the high 
ideal he always placed before himself are in position to weigh 
and measure the solid worth of Commendatore Patrick Valentine 
Hickey. He also was one of the chosen few who labored in the 
interests of Catholic literature and Catholic journalism with a 
singleness of purpose and in a spirit of self-denial and self-devoted- 
ness truly heroic. Moderate in his views, unbending in his prin- 
ciples, charitable in his judgments, he was a ripe scholar, a pro- 
found theologian, a clever writer, a fair-minded and honorable 
opponent in controversy. He was never known to sully his paper 
with personal abuse. He always bore the respect and esteem of 
the non-Catholic press. Be his memory cherished amongst us as 
the Bayard of Catholic journalism. Let us not forget or ignore 
such merit and such devotedness. Let us love the literature for 
which such noble souls sacrificed themselves. Let us cultivate it, 
each according to his capacity ; let us patronize it, each according 

to his means. 

BROTHER AZARIAS. 



v 

1889.] THE SCHOOL QUESTIOX : A PLEA FOR JUSTICE. 649 



THE SCHOOL QUESTION: A PLEA FOR JUSTICE. 

THE number of those fair-minded people who are ready to recog- 
nize the just claims of Catholic citizens and taxpayers is rapidly 
increasing. Nor need any one be discouraged by the spasmodic out- 
bursts of extremists here and there throughout the country. This 
display is mainly due to blind religious hatred, and the school trou- 
bles in Boston, Pittsburgh, and elsewhere merely supply occasion for 
turbulent spirits to exhibit their unreason. The intelligent, thought- 
ful, and conservative of our people are desirous of reaching a solution 
of the educational problem, and one that will satisfy all classes. 

Let us examine the grounds upon which the Catholic claims are 
based. 

1. All who pay taxes ought to share in the benefits of taxation. 

2. To compel payment of taxes, and to exclude from participa- 
tion in their expenditure, is political injustice. 

To the average American these two propositions ought to ap- 
pear in the light of self-evident truths. Their substance and mean- 
ing are embedded in the letter and spirit of our Constitution. It is 
entirely beside the question to say, as is sometimes said, that Catho- 
lics are not excluded from the benefits of the school-tax; that Catho- 
lics can share in the benefits of school taxation ; and if they exclude 
themselves, that is their own fault. Every honest man understands 
at present that the fundamental principle upon which the public- 
school system of education is basted excludes, and must necessarily 
exclude, not only the child of Catholic parents, but the children as 
well of the believer in supernatural religion. No Christian parent 
can endorse in his own conscience a system of instruction that is 
professedly non-Christian; a system that takes no account of 'the 
existence of a soul or a supernatural life ; a system that occupies " 
itself just as little with the mission, history, and teachings of the di- 
vine Founder of Christianity as it does with the life and doctrines of 
Confucius or Buddha. The reason, then, why Catholic taxpayers 
cannot avail themselves of the benefits of the school-tax is a reason 
founded on conscience. And to ignore this is an evasion of the 
whole question. The treatment Catholics, and all others who are in 
accord with the Catholic position, receive is therefore a plain violation 
of the rights of conscience and the first principles of justice, since 
they are taxed for something the benefits of which they are practi- 
cally debarred from enjoying. Is not this political injustice ? Is not 



650 THE SCHOOL QUESTION: A PLEA FOR JUSTICE. [Aug., 

this a violation of those rights of conscience guaranteed to all under 
the Constitution ? 

The next argument advanced in favor of the claims of Catholics 
runs thus : 

3. To offer education, either without Christianity or with inde- 
finite Christianity, to the people of the United States of whom the 
great majority are definitely and conscientiously Christian is a con- 
dition that ought to be impossible of acceptance. The answer gen- 
erally made to this line of reasoning is that Catholics simply want 
to control the public schools ; that what we are aiming at is to 
teach Catholic Christianity in the public schools ; and since this, of 
course, would be entirely distasteful to non-Catholics, the American 
people are asked to close their ears to the Catholic plea for justice. 

Now, in all honesty and candor, our opponents should under- 
stand that we have never thought of such a thing as forcing, our 
.religion upon anybody, either in the schools or elsewhere. We have 
never dreamed of offering " education with Catholic Christianity to 
Protestants," unless they want that kind of Christianity, as many of 
them seem to do who send their boys and girls to Catholic colleges 
.and sisters' academies. Once more let us repeat : all that Catholics 
look for is the free exercise of the natural and divine right of parents 
to educate their children. And when Catholic parents have dis- 
charged that duty satisfactorily one would naturally suppose that 
they ought to be in justice exempted from the doubtful obligation 
of educating other people's children, except those of pauper and 
delinquent parents. Is not that fair ? Our fourth argument may 
be presented in this form : 

4. To confer the exclusive control and enjoyment of the school 
funds on one class of the community alone is to create a griev- 
.ance of conscience, which is especially foreign to our constitutional 
system. A large class of the population the Catholics who con- 
scientiously refuse to accept education without Christianity, or 
.schools of indefinite Christianity, are compelled to pay taxes for 
the support of such schools. 

But, say those who are opposed to doing justice to Catholics, 
it would be impossible to parcel out the school- tax to the differ- 
ent denominations. If we give Catholics their due share, it will 
be impossible to refuse others who may advance a similar claim ; 
a division of the school fund cannot be thought of, because the 
Methodists, Baptists, Presbyterians, and other religionists would 
put in their claims for a share of the tax. I make the obvious 
answer that justice ought to be done no matter what happens. 
Furthermore, a system under which all citizens can enjoy a share 



1889.] THE SCHOOL QUESTION: A PLEA FOR JUSTICE. 651 

of the school-tax, and have religious schools as well, is found to 
work well in the neighboring Dominion of Canada. Why not 
here ? Moreover, it is generally understood that all, or mostly all, 
of the Protestant sects are satisfied with the public schools as they 
are at present Let them keep those schools, if they like, and 
some accommodation be permitted their Catholic fellow-citizens for 
the maintenance of religious schools for their children, or exempt 
altogether from the school-tax those Catholics who are educating 
their children in the parochial schools. 

There is no argument which the average man understands so 
readily as that which is addressed to his pocket The money argu- 
ment on this subject may be summed up in this way : 

5. The parochial schools save annually the public revenues at 
least $10,000,000. 



6. Again, if the parochial schools were extinguished, it would 
cost the people of the United States a vast sum of money to buy 
sites and build the schools necessary to replace them, and an enor- 
mous annual increase in the school-tax necessary to maintain them. 
These reasons should be apparent to the property-holder, who al- 
ready complains of the weight of public taxation, especially in our 
large cities. The enormous sums of money that Catholics save to 
the people of the country ought certainly dispose fair-minded persons 
to look around for an adequate and just solution of the educational 
problem. How would it be if non-Catholics had to endure such a 
heavy burden of what is practically a double system of taxation ? 
Most likely they, too, would complain, and that rather loudly. And 
they, too, would keep on agitating until there was a public recogni- 
tion of their grievances. Why should not Catholics do the same ? 
Why should they be branded, even by the Fultons and Joe Cooks of 
the land, as wanting in patriotism and as opposed to republican insti- 
tutions when only redress from grievous wrongs is sought for ? 
This, surely, is not fair play nor honest dealing. What answer can 
be given to the following ? 

7. Religious schools are the only safeguard of the rights and 
conscience both of parents and children. 

8. They embody the freedom of the people to educate them- 
selves, in opposition to the pagan and revolutionary claim that the 
educator of the people is the state. 

It is usually admitted that from the Catholic standpoint these 
reasons are valid. If non-Catholics fail to perceive the force of the 
argument, they are . certainly free to set up their own safeguards. 
If the public-school or state system is in their judgment all the 
safeguard to conscience that Protestants demand, well and good. 

VOL. XLIX. 42 



652 THE SCHOOL QUESTION: A PLEA FOR JUSTICE. [Aug., 

Catholics have not a word to say against the sufficiency of safe- 
guards that others may adopt for their children. They claim, 
however, the same right to judge of what is necessary to safe- 
guard their own rights of conscience. That is all. In reply to 
the reasoning here laid down, the writer noticed recently the fol- 
lowing : 

" No one, that I am aware of, disputes the right of any parent to educate 
his or her children in any way he or she deems proper, so long as it is not at the 
expense of the majority, who may think different. In other words, no objections 
are made to parochial schools so long as they pay their own bills." 

Here we have the barbarous principle that " might makes right," 
and a distortion of the maxim that " majorities rule." But even 
these principles cannot be applied to the case, since Catholics do 
not ask the majority to pay their bills. All they want is simpfy 
the privilege of paying their own bills and no more. As the 
matter stands at present it is plainly this : Instead of the majority 
being asked to pay our bills, we, after having paid our own bills, 
are forced to pay our share of the majority's bills, for which we 
get nothing in return for our hard cash. Such a proceeding, in 
ordinary commercial dealing, we call by its proper name. Does 
it not look on the face of things like the grossest injustice, to use 
a rather mild term ? 

9. State education as at present conducted is the worst form 
of education, fatal to the personal independence of the citizen, 

p 

destructive of national energy and character. 

10. The effects of a purely secular or state education have 
proved disastrous wherever it has had a trial. 

Here are the proofs : There is, as everybody knows, a clear 
distinction to be 4 made between education and instruction. Accord- 
ing to the definition of the word, to educate means to draw out, 
to develop the intellectual, moral, and religious faculties of the 
soul. An education that improves only the mind and memory to 
the neglect of the moral and religious faculties is at best" an im- 
perfect and defective system. Yet this is exactly all our state 
education aims, or can aim, at doing. The state cannot officially 
teach morals or religion. It does not propose to do so in the 
United States. Therefore the state system is, as compared with 
all known systems, the most defective form of education. 

That it is fatal to the independence of national conscience, energy, 
and character is no less apparent. The general proposition is true, 
that wherever the state encroaches upon individual rights there is 
invariably a weakening, that increases in direct proportion to the de- 



1889.] THE SCHOOL QUESTION: A PLEA FOR JUSTICE. 653 

gree of usurpation by the state, of those three great elements of na- 
tional strength. Now, under our public-school system the state 
absolutely usurps parental rights. It is evident, therefore, that such 
a system of education must prove fatal to the personal independence 
of the citizen, weaken his conscience, and enfeeble his character. 
Besides, is it not patent to every one that conscience, as known to 
religious men and women, does not count at all in the system ? 
And as for energy and character, " paternal ' government by the 
state is about the speediest way to weaken and finally destroy 
both. 

The Revolutionary period in American history was characterized 
by the highest degree of national energy and character. There were 
giants in those days ; and, strange to say, they did not receive their 
education in public schools. Who holds that we are as independent 
in character and as full of energy as were the Revolutionary fathers? 
And yet we are in the enjoyment of the boasted blessings of our 
glorious public schools ! 

The reason why this injustice is perpetrated is, say the unthink- 
ing, because "it is unlawful" to divide the funds. Let us take a 
parallel case : Suppose it was unlawful for Roman Catholics to wor- 
ship their Creator according to the dictates of their own consciences, 
should we be bound to silently submit to this injustice and wrong 
simply on being told by some blind persecutor that it was " unlaw- 
ful ' to do otherwise ? Should Catholics tamely endure the wrong 
and injustice, not moving hand or foot to redress themselves ? And 
are not the educational grievances of Catholics almost on a par with 
the case I have supposed ? People sometimes get so accustomed to 
doing wrong to others that they fail to see any wrong in it. I am 
afraid we have come to that dangerous condition of mind in America 
on this school question. 

That Catholic schools furnish instruction to pupils in secular 
matters fully equal to that given in the public schools is now 
generally recognized by all who have examined the results and 
efficiency of both systems. At present parochial schools are within 
the reach of most of our Catholic children. And any one who sees 
daily the large, nay, even the crowded, attendance of these par- 
ochial schools is satisfied that parents not only recognize their duty 
as Christians but also believe these schools to be equally efficient 
as the public schools in secular training. The constant demand 
for additional school room, the large number of elegant new build- 
ings being erected all over the country, the ill -concealed feelings 
and angry outbursts, such as witnessed in Massachusetts, against 
the liberty of parents to educate their children in the way they 



654 THE SCHOOL QUESTION : A PLEA FOR JUSTICE. [Aug.,, 

deem best and proper and most conducive to good citizenship, 
are proofs conclusive that priests and people are determined to put 
in force the legislation of the Council of Baltimore on this impor- 
tant subject of education. 

It is not denied, however, that there are some Catholic parents 
who, for sufficient causes, do send their children to the public 
schools. There are others, again but they are the exception, and 
are by no means representative Catholics who, in face of plain 
Christian duty, persist in sending their children to the public 
schools. These are the exceptions that prove the rule. Hence the 
reason stands. But, after all, this is no sure or certain test of the 
efficiency of the schools the choice of the parents. Very few ' 
parents visit the schools ; a large number never think of comparing 
the efficiency of one system with the other ; most parents are in- 
fluenced by other considerations in selecting a choice of schools 
for their children. 

The proper way of testing the superiority of one system over 
the other would be an honest competition between the pupils in 
equal grades of the two systems. We have no means of applying 
this test. I understood that within the last year or two one of the 
Catholic pastors of Pittsburgh publicly challenged the authorities of 
a neighboring public school, the most efficient one, I am led to 
believe, in the county, and the challenge was not accepted. Honest 
investigation goes to show that in the fundamental or elementary 
branches, and these are what the majority of the pupils need, the 
parochial schools are fully equal to, if not in advance of, the public 
schools in efficiency and thoroughness of work. 

In Great Britain and Ireland statistics prove what here we have 
not the same means of showing, that Catholic schools and colleges 
more than hold their own against the state and non-Catholic 
schools. I have before me a summary of the results of the " in- 
termediate examinations ' in Ireland held last June. The result is 
that, without any external advantages, the Catholic students suc- 
ceeded in carrying off a full share of the prizes. The necessity of 
religious and moral training in the schools has been strongly in- 
sisted on by the Royal Commission of Elementary Education (ap- 
pointed by act of Parliament) in England in its recently published 
report. Here is an extract : 

"While the commission desire to secure for the children in public elementary 
schools the best and most thorough instruction on secular subjects, they are also 
unanimously of opinion that their religious and moral training is a matter of 
still higher importance alike to the children, the parents, and the nation. To 
secularize elementary education would be the violation of the wishes of parents, 



1889.] THE SCHOOL QUESTION: A PLEA FOR JUSTICE. 655 

whose views in such a matter are entitled to the first consideration. The 
evidence does not warrant the conclusion that religious and moral training can 
.be amply provided otherwise than through the medium of elementary schools." 

Those who think that home and the Sunday-school are able to 
supply and do supply all the moral and religious training needed 
will do well to scan closely the last sentence of this extract. 

Catholics are not alone in condemning the bad results of a non- 
religious system of education. In a recent issue of the Church- 
man, a Protestant- Episcopal paper, a writer calls attention to the 
practical outcome of a purely secular system of instruction in these 
words : 

1 ' It is noteworthy, though it is perfectly natural, that absconding clerks and 
other defaulters are mostly men who have received such learning as they possess 
from the public schools. That the public schools do turn out a large number of 
smart men is indisputable, but their neglect of moral teaching and training, 
which is confessed by their best friends, makes them quite as likely to turn out 
smart rogues as competent citizens. . . . It is greatly to be feared that the 
indirect effect of the methods of teaching in our schools is distinctly and un- 
equivocally immoral. In nearly all secular schools the one thing which is 
always kept before the mind of the scholar is the indispensable necessity of 
getting on. The stimulus of emulation is constantly applied. Year after year 
children are impressed with the thought that the first duty of life is to get ahead 
of other people. Why should one wonder if the practical outcome of many 
years of such training should prove to be disastrous to morality ? Teach a child 
that success in getting on is the supreme object of all his efforts ; teach him little 
or nothing of the conditions of right success; practically ignore duty as the 
guide of every step in life, and then why should you wonder if the result of your 
fine system of education proved to be the making of a successful (or unsuccess- 
ful) rogue ? " 

When has a Catholic drawn up a more weighty indictment 
against the public schools ? If, then, these be the fruits of a god- 
less system, Christian parents are to be justified in entering their 
solemn protest against such education. Catholic citizens and tax- 
payers have a right to demand that this glaring wrong be remedied. 

MORGAN M. SHEEDY. 

Church of Our Lady of Mercy, Pittsburgh, Pa. 



656 PA UL RING wo OD : AN Au TO BIO GRA PH v. [A u g. 



PAUL RINGWOOD: AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

CHAPTER XLIX. 
CHRISTMAS EVE. 

IT is Christmas Eve of the year 1880, the last Christmas Eve 
I shall ever see on earth. Six months in a prison-cell have not 
accustomed me to the thought of the disgraceful death I am to 
suffer next June. It is not the fear of death, though I know how 
unworthy I am ; but the shamefulness of the death I am to die is 
what troubles me, the extrinsic shame to my religion, the in- 
trinsic shame in the thing itself to my name. I have not lived so 
spotlessly as to feel that I have done nothing to bring this shame 
on myself. Heaven, for some good I cannot in my darkness per- 
ceive, allows this punishment to overtake me. Were my ending 
to be in any other way, I could have a welcome for death ; not 
from any weariness of life, for though I have had my troubles, I 
feel keenly how good the gift of life is. There is a sweetness in 
it, and it may be that its sweetness is pleasanter to my palate 
because of the very bitterness that from time to time has been 
given me for food. The welcome I could give death would be 
because of the better life hereafter. It may be presumptuous on 
my part ; nevertheless, I have an unwavering hope that in this 
better life I shall have a share, for is not He to whom I go the 
Almighty Good ? 

They have been putting up a shed somewhere in the jail-yard. 
I cannot see it, though I have climbed to the bars to look, and 
I know it is a shed only because the turnkey told me so. At 
first the hammering on the joists caused me a sort of panic ; it was 
so like what it will be when they put up my gallows. I shut my 
ears with my thumbs, but that did not deaden the sound. Then 
I sat down on my little bed to accustom myself to it. I succeeded 
so well that now I can hear a hammer without shuddering. The 
strings about the parcels of food and little comforts Jack is allowed 
to bring me reminded me unpleasantly of my end. To overcome 
this I preserved some pieces of string, made a slip-knot, letting it 
suddenly tighten by the weight of some heavy article. The first 
time I did this in horror I threw the string and its burden from 
me. But I forced myself to pick them up and repeat the oper- 



2889.] PAUL RING WOOD: AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 657 

ation. In about a month's time I had become skilful in this kind 
of work, and callous to the impression it had first made on me. 
Yet, in spite of all my efforts, the thought of the way that I am 
to die is ever new to me, ever presenting a fresh combination of 
horrors to my mind. 

Father Clare has written me many letters, and in one he sug- 
gested the writing of the autobiography I am now finishing. If it 
has done no other good, at least it has made the time pass more 
agreeably for me. And now that I have come to the last words 
a strange feeling of sadness comes over me, as if I had another 
self to whom I was bidding farewell. Presently I shall wrap this 
MS. in paper, to be sent to Father Clare when I am dead. Vanity, 
indeed, but what fond and tender feelings I have for the man whose 
life is told in these pages ! I have many indulgences granted me. 
Were this not so I would not now, at eleven o'clock at night, be 
writing by the light of a candle of Jack's providing. Jack visits 
me as often as he can get away from the ranch ; oftener, I fear, 
than he should for the welfare of his property. Bessy and Paulina 
are well acquainted with my cell, and my confessor visits me daily. 
It is only at night that I am alone. Fortunately, my will has 
been made more than a year ago. I am a rich man as times go. 
One-fourth of all I have is for Jack, one-fourth for sundry chari- 
ties, the remaining half for Elsie ; and should she die without heirs, 
this half is to revert, share and share alike, to Jack and the before- 
mentioned charities. 

Lawyer Bell has failed in all the efforts he made for a new 
trial. I have not heard from him for many weeks. I do not know 
whether he has found Elbert Ringwood. I do know that I hope 
he has not. I do not wish to see my brother in my place. That 
would be too dear a price for liberty. A little patch of cold moon- 
light can be seen through my prison bars. And now the Christ- 
mas joy-bells are ringing, the happiest day of all the year has 
come. My candle is almost burned out. What better way of end- 
ing this narration than to say with the singing angels, with the 
everlasting church now in adoration before her spotless altars, 
" Glory to God in the highest, peace on earth to men of good 

will"? 



NOTE BY THE EDITOR. As Mr. Ringwood's autobiography does not com- 
plete the story of his life, Dr. Stancy mentioned several times in the pages of 
the autobiography has been persuaded to give a narration of the events that 
led up to Mr. Ringwood's release from jail. Using my editorial rights, I have 
cut out from the doctor's narration such passages as only concern Doctor 
Stancy's discovery that alkali is a well-nigh infallible remedy for gout and 



658 PAUL RINGWOOD : AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. [Aug., 

rheumatism. An asterisk will show where such passages are omitted. Any one 
curious on the subject should get Stancy on Gout (Fordwell, N.Y. ; Tiswall, Soho 
Square, London. 1884). When Doctor Stancy has omitted important matter, 
important as bearing on the life of Mr. Ringwood, the omissions have been sup- 
plied from notes given me by Lawyer Bell and Mr. Ringwood. 



DOCTOR STANCY S NARRATION. 

Perfectly convinced that there never has been written an auto- 
biography worth the reading, unless we call The Confessions of St. 
Augustine an autobiography ; and no biography worthy the name, 
Boswell's Johnson alone excepted, I cannot imagine what has en- 
tered into the heads of Paul Ringwood's friends to persuade him 
to publish what can have no interest to a stranger, and it is only 
as a stranger that he will come before the public. He is a man 
of no note, unless having been tried for and found guilty of a 
murder which he did not commit has made him noted. If he is 
remarkable for any quality, barring a wonderful facility he has of 
getting himself into trouble, I am not cognizant of it. I have 
known several persons possessed in an equal degree of this facility, 
but I never heard them extolled for it, or that any one wished them 
to publish their lives on that account. The man who is to edit 
this says that the autobiography is for Ringwood's posterity. If 
Ringwood's posterity has nothing better to do than read its pro- 
genitor's autobiography, it will come nigher to hanging itself than 
its progenitor ever came to hanging. 

i 
. 



[Dr. Stancy gave up his practice in 1878. In 1880 he was entreated to see 
if he could do anything for Elsie Hethering, then boarding on Park Street, 
Cecilsburg. She was very ill, and this was the illness spoken of by Father Clare 
in the letter Paul Ringwood received on the day of his arrest. Miss Hethering 
revived under Dr. Stancy's novel treatment, and when in 1881 the doctor and 
his sister Margaret started for New Mexico to test the alkali largely predominant 
in New Mexican waters they induced Miss Hethering to accompany them, 
hoping the air of the Territory would complete her recovery. Miss Hethering 
knew of her brother's death, but in consideration of her wretched health it was 
thought best to conceal the manner of it from her. No one of the party knew 
of Paul Ringwood's arrest and sentence. Had not Father Clare been in Canada 
he would have heard of their plan to go to New Mexico, and would have warned 
Dr. Stancy accordingly. As it was, they went blindly to the very town where 
Paul Ringwood lay in jail.] 

If Dr. Fitch could have seen Elsie Hethering when I began my 
treatment of her with the natural oxides of gold and iron, in judi- 
cious proportions, potash a constituent, and have seen her when 



1889.] PAUL RINGWOOD: AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 659 

she went out for a walk with me a few days after our arrival at 
Las Vegas Hot Springs, were he not as hard to move as Balaam's 
ass when confronted by an angel I don't know about my being 
an angel, though he is an ass he would acknowledge that I am 
not a mere theorizer.* It requires a considerable matter to up- 
set me, for and I say it without a particle of conceit I am one 
of the most even-tempered of men, able to harmonize with the 
most contrary dispositions, which fact goes to prove the perversity 
of mankind in general, for I do not know how many men have 
quarrelled with me who never quarrel with any one else. Even 
smoothest waters meet with rocks in their way, and on the day I 
speak of as having taken a walk with Elsie Hethering I was still 
suffering from the agitation caused me by a rock I had come 
against the day before. There is something wrong about my 
metaphor, I do not see precisely what, but the editor can put it 
in shape ; it is his business. After dinner on the day I speak of 
I had gone out on the piazza of the hotel to smoke a cigar and 
read a book, but I had scarcely seated myself when a woman 
smothered in crapes and black ribbons took a chair close by mine. 

" You needn't mind me ; smoke ahead," she said. " I reckon 
I can stand your smoke if you can stand me. Oh ! you needn't 
look surprised. I saw you make a face when I come out ; you've 
got an ideer that smoke and ladies don't go t'gether ; you an't 
hit the mark this time. Was a time when I could smoke a bit 
m'self, but, Lor' save us ! I an't no taste for nothin' now." 

With all her superabundance of mourning and her vile slang, 
there was something pathetic about the woman in spite of her bold 
style of beauty. " You have lost a friend ?" I interrogated. 

Sighing deeply, she stared at me and said : " Where have you 
come from, anyhow ? An't you acquainted with the case of Tom 
Hethering's murder? I'm Tom's widow." 

I gave a great gasp, and in doing so my cigar fell on her 
crapes swarming oveV the piazza floor. Immediately our olfactory 
organs were assailed by the peculiar odor of burning cotton, and 
the woman jumped up and shook off the cigar onto the grass. 

" You are awkward ! ' she exclaimed, as I made an apology. 

I opened my book to read, and she said, with the petulance 
of a spoiled child : " An't you got no more cigars ?" 

I nodded my -head and began my book. 

" An't you goin' to smoke ?" she persisted. 

I took out a cigar and lit it. I had finished a page before 
she spoke again. " Is your name Stancy ?" she asked when I 
was turning a leaf. 



66o 



PAUL RING WOOD : AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 



[Aug., 



Yes," I replied, puffing with much vigor. 

" I seen your name, an' a Miss Stancy, an' a lady as has the 
same name as m'self, in the register," she stated. "Who is Miss 
Hethering ?" 

I still kept my book open before me as I responded: "Tom 
Hethering's sister." 

" I guessed that much las' night," she said. " I looked at her 
fur an hour. She looks like Tom. His first wife, she were good- 
lookin', too ; leastways, her picture was. What could Tom see in 
me after them ?" 

" I don't know, madam," I said over my book. 

" You're a reg'lar brute !" she exclaimed. 

" Granted," I rejoined. 

" Has his sister come out here to see the man as murdered 
Tom ?" she now asked. 

I put down my book. " Has your loss turned your head, Mrs. 
Hethering ?" I questioned in the most placid of tones. 

" You don't mean ter say as she weren't in love with Paul 
Ringwood ?" she cried. " This an't no market for no such goods ; 
I an't takin' stock in no such." 

I was beginning to feel upset. A man at sixty-five has not 
the control over his feelings he once had. " Madam," I asked, and 
my voice was shaky, " do you mean to tell me that Paul Ring- 
wood is supposed to be the murderer of Tom Hethering?" 

She stared at me as before. " You mus' jus' be come out of 
th' woods," she said. "Why, Ringwood's been tried for the murder, 
an' '11 be hung for it June comin'." 

The woman was equal to a shock from an electric battery. I 
fancy my grasp of her wrist must have been a rough one. She 
was a powerful woman, and she shook herself free of my grasp, 
exclaiming, "You old fool, see what you've done!' exhibiting a 
lace cuff very much torn. 

"What do you mean," I asked, and I was perfectly calm, "by 
saying that Paul Ringwood murdered Hethering?" 

" If you want to talk to me you've got to talk civil," she re- 
plied. Exasperating as she was, I commanded myself sufficiently 
to ask, " Were you in the conspiracy to hang Ringwood ? ' 

She was in a pretty temper as she snapped, " Is that what you 
call bein' civil ? What do you mean by conspiracy ? Wasn't the 
man arrested legal ? Wasn't there fair an' hones' proofs that he 
killed Tom?" 

Then this whimsical woman turned pale, and tears filled her 
eyes. I cannot bear to see any one weep; I always lose control 



.] PAUL RING WOOD : AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 66 1 

of myself, and now I began to beg this weathercock's pardon if 
I had hurt her feelings, reminding her that all she told me about 
Ringwood was entirely new to me. 

" Tom wasn't a good husban' to me," she whimpered ; " an' I 
reckon he wasn't to his firs', neither; but I loved Tom, that I 
did." 

I have not the least doubt but that she did love this Tom, 
poor wretch! Perhaps the pity I felt for her was excessive, as I 
thought of the kind of man he was whom she had loved. She 
was a perfect pagan, without education, with passions as little 
under control as are those of a savage, and he must have made 
her suffer for them. 

'Tom kep' track of his sister fur years," her loquacity im- 
pelled her to say; "an' he knew jus' what she was doin'. He 
said he wasn't goin' to 'low his sister to marry Paul Ringwood. 
But when he seen Ringwood wasn't disposed to he was madder'n 
a wasp. He said as Ringwood had giv' her th' mitten. I guess 
that weren't so. Anyhow, Tom, he believed it, and when he seen 
there weren't no talk of marryin' he was worse than when there 
was. My Tom was a perfec' gentleman, sleeker'n a rat, but when 
he took a notion he could cuss, he could." 

I had no desire to discuss Elsie Hethering with this female, 
but I was anxious to hear further concerning Paul Ringwood. 
" Do you object to telling me how Ringwood became implicated 
, in the murder of Hethering?" I asked. 

She looked stupidly at me, and I repeated my question in other 
words: "How is it people believe Ringwood killed Hethering?'' 

Her face lighted up with intelligence, and she answered briskly: 
" No one did think so at first ; Durke found him out " 

"Who is Durke?" I interrupted. , . :.. 

"He's my brother-in-lor ; I was divorced from his brother 
before I married Tom." (She had grace enough to blush as she 
made this abominable confession.) "Durke an' Tom had a sight 
of business together about a mine, an' they didn't gee well, 
but Durke's sorry enough fur all their squabbles, an' was glad 
enough ter make it right in huntin' down him w r hat's killed Tom. 
I never seen Durke so hot on anythin' ; he got up the case his- 
self, an' turned it over to the prosecution. The day they tried 
Ringwood I went to court, an' it did give me a turn to see the 
man what killed Tom. I an't goin' ter forget it in a hurry." 

[The relation of the trial, as given by Durke's sister-in-law, for obvious 
reasons is omitted.] 



662 



PAUL RINGWOOD : AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 



[Aug., 



You say that Paul Ringwood is now lodged in Las Vegas 
jail?" I asked when she had finished. 

" You bet he is ; an' he's goin' to stay there till the rope's 
ready to hang him ! " She said this so viciously that my patience 
was exhausted. I got up abruptly and was leaving her without a 
word when she followed me and laid her hand on my arm. " Look 
here," she said, " you an't got no call to be mad at me. It an't 
my fault Ringwood killed Tom." 

" Madam," I said, and I believe that I was inspired to say it, 
"Ringwood did not kill Hethering Durke did." 

A moment before she had been all languor, now she was alive 
with excitement. "If I thought that, I'd kill Durke myself!' 
Lapsing into her languid state, she said : " But he didn't ; you've 
got the wrong sow by the ear." 

She went back to her seat, and I went off to find my sister 
Margaret to let her know that I was going to Las Vegas, and 
would probably be gone for some hours. I could not rest till I 
had seen Paul Ringwood. Margaret was busily engaged analyzing 
some specimens of alkali I had found that morning in the dry 
bed of a stream.* I would have had difficulty in gaining admit- 
tance to Ringwood had I not been so fortunate as to meet his 
lawyer at the prison gate. He heard me ask to be admitted to 
Ringwood, and the jailer's refusal because I had no permit. Intro- 
ducing himself as Lawyer Bell, he asked me if I were a friend of 
the prisoner. Telling him my name, and the interest I took in 
Paul, he entered into a conversation with me that occupied a good 
half-hour. He shook my belief in Durke's guilt by what he told 
me of Elbert Ringwood, a young man of whose existence I had 
scarcely been aware up to that moment. " I think I am on Elbert 
Ringwood's track," said the lawyer. " In a day or so I expect 
certain information as to his whereabouts. Now, permit me to say 
a word to Montalbo ; I think I can get you admitted. Let me 
warn you, you will find our friend much changed. Confinement 

and trouble have told on him." 



It was as Lawyer Bell expected. As he said, it was all right, the 
jailer willingly gave me admittance. There is a comfortably loose 
way of doing ^business in the West, quite refreshing at times. We 
crossed a flagged courtyard, stopped before a large door, which, 
when unlocked, let us into a long passage-way, on one side of which 
was a stone wall with slits in it to admit light; on the other, a series 
of cells. Selecting a key from the bunch he carried, the jailer 
inserted it in the lock of one of these cells, and a moment after I was 
in the presence of Paul Ringwood. Lawyer Bell had not exagger- 



1889.] PAUL RINGWOOD : AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 663 

ated in what he had said about Paul's health. I have heard of per- 
fect wrecks of humanity, but Paul Ringwood was the wreck of a 
wreck, and my first thought on seeing him was, " God help him, he'll 
never live to be hung! ' 

-He was lying on a narrow plank bed, his back turned to the 
door, when we entered the cell. The jailer spoke to him in Spanish, 
and he turned about on the bed. 

"Don't you know me, Ringwood?" I asked, going over to him 
and taking his hand. 

I think he was trying to smile, but it was only a feeble trembling 
of his lips as he exclaimed in a husky voice: "Doctor Stancy, you 
here ! " 

He was about to rise, but I gently prevented him, and sat down 
on the bed beside him. 

You are not looking well, Ringwood," I said, speaking consol- 
ingly. " Courage, man, courage ! ' 

The thought that my telling him to have courage might be dis- 
torted by him into an entreaty for him to face his hanging bravely 
made me hasten to add: "Don't give up hope; all will come 
right." 

Once more his lips trembled, and he responded resignedly: "Not 
here, doctor; after I am dead, oh, yes ! ' 

I was endeavoring to say something that would put heart into 
the poor fellow when he asked suddenly : " You don't believe that 1 
killed him, do you, doctor ? ' 

" As surely as I hope to be justly judged, Paul, I believe you to 
be innocent," I said, and pressed his hand in mine to assure him of 
my confidence in him. 

" Very few people believe me innocent," he said. " I have long 
wanted to know," he continued, " but have asked no one it cannot 
be wrong for me to know does Elsie Hethering believe me 
guilty?" 

" She knows nothing of your being accused. I knew nothing 
myself till to-day," I answered. 

It was not a flash that spread over his face, it was more like a 
dark shadow. " She is here, in Las Vegas ? " he stammered. 

I hesitated, but calling to mind that a veracious statement is 
never unwarrantable, I told him that at that moment Elsie Hethering 
was at the Hot Springs. 

" Will you tell her you have seen me ? ' he asked. 

"If I do not tell her about you, some one else may, and that will 
be a thousand times worse," I returned, and as I spoke I never saw 
anything more distressing than the look of silent woe in Paul Ring- 



664 PAUL RING WOOD: AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

wood's face. I had thought of it before, and now put it in words. 
41 When she has been told she may desire to see you," I said. 

This agitated him a great deal. " You must not let her come 
here," he exclaimed. " If I could feel sure she will never know of 
my miserable end ! ' 

" If she wants to come, I cannot prevent her," I veraciously as- 
serted. " There is no reason why she should not. I would think 
very badly of her should she not wish to see you, now that you are 
in trouble." 

" But, doctor, you forget ! ' he answered. " She to visit the 
man who is to be hung for the murder of her brother ! Cannot you 
see the indecency of it ? ' 

"Nonsense!' I retorted. "What indecency? You have not 
killed the man. If the law is such a fool as to say you did, you had 
better remember that this same law you are so infatuated with six 
years ago gave Hethering the liberty to ruin the lives of his wife 
and sister." 

" It is not the law alone," he persisted. " Public opinion is 
entirely against me. There would be a difference did people think 
me innocent." 

" I'd like to perform an operation on Public Opinion ! ' I ex- 
claimed. " We have progressed so far in this age of progress that 
we no longer sin against God ; we sin only against the conventionali- 
ties." 

" Should we not respect the conventionalities ? " he asked. 

" Respect my old shoe ! ' I cried with some degree of heat. "I 
respect women, I hope, but that does not mean that I am to make a 
slave of myself to every whimsical chit who makes a tottering idiot 
of herself with high-heeled shoes, and ruins her abdomen by tight 
lacing ! ' 

This should have clinched the argument, but it did not; he was 
bent upon being perverse. 

" You have not convinced me, doctor," he said. 

"That's because you don't want to be," I retorted. "What has 
public opinion done for you ? Rashly judged you, and would, only 
we won't let it, rashly hang you. Will you be so good as to tell me 
what debt you owe it ? ' 

" She will not come, however," he said, begging my question. 

I stoutly insisted that she would, and notwithstanding all he had 
said to the contrary, I think my saying so pleased him, for he 
brightened up considerably, and then it was that I got him to tell 
me about his trial, and particularly I questioned him as to his pro- 
ceedings on the night of the murder, and what he knew of Durke. 



1889.] PAUL RING WOOD: AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 665 

He was thoroughly convinced that it was his brother who shot 
Hethering, and I had to acknowledge to myself that it looked very 
much like it. 

" That is what makes me hopeless," Paul said. " The only way 
I can be freed is by Elbert's taking my place." 

I remained till his supper was brought him, then I was obliged to 
leave, promising to return on the following day. When I got back 
to the hotel at the Springs I found Margaret waiting to give me the 
result of her analysis. * 

Elsie Hethering and myself had a very silent walk up the hill- 
side, for I had not fixed in my mind how to tell her about Ring- 
wood, and I was debating how it could be done without abruptness, 
which, in her not yet absolutely restored state of health, might pro- 
duce a relapse that would be more than precarious. I could not tell 
her as we walked, so when we had reached a spot made umbrage- 
ous by a number of lofty pinon trees I asked her to rest on a smooth 
slab of stone conveniently disposed under one of the tallest of the 
pinons. 

" It does fatigue one, climbing these hills," she said as she seated 
herself, "and you do not appear to be yourself this morning, 
doctor." 

I made haste to avail myself of the opportunity she had given me 
of speaking without abruptness. 

" No, I am not myself," I said; "I am the incarnation of worri- 
ment." 

Elsie looked at me inquiringly, and I proceeded to ask : " You 
remember Paul Ringwood ? ' 

She shook her bead, and turned her face from me. The French 
are noted for their tact, but I modestly think that few Frenchmen 
have anything to record like to the tact with which I now put the 
whole matter into a nut-shell. 

" Well," I said, " is it not enough to worry one to think of that 
poor fellow in jail, waiting to go out of it to be hung ? ' 

Owing to my prudence she was not in the least overcome, and it 
was only with some little disquietude she cried : " In prison ! What 
has he done ? ' 

" He has not done anything ; he is as innocent as a baby," I re- 
plied. 

Elsie looked very troubledly at me, and entreated me to explain 
myself. " I am very stupid, doctor; I don't understand," she said 
humbly. 

As she would have the whole story, I told it to her, and she is 
worthy of all praise for the manner in which she listened to me, not 



666 PAUL RING WOOD : AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. [Aug., 

interrupting me even once. When I had finished she asked: " Did 
you know this when we left Cecilsburg, doctor?' 

" I have already told you I only heard of it yesterday," I said. 

"Yes, yes, I remember," she said; continuing after a moment's 
thought : "Is there no way of proving his innocence ? ' 

" I believe that there is; and now that you know everything, I am 
going to Las Vegas to see Paul's lawyer. There is no time to be 
lost ; this is the middle of May, and in June " Here I paused. 

" He is to be hung," she ended my sentence. " You are going 
to see Paul Ringwood to-day ? ' she questioned. 

I answered that I was, and she asked if I would take her with 
me. 

" He is in trouble ; were I his sister I would visit him " 

" Are you not afraid of public opinion ? ' I interrupted her to 
ask. 

" No, I am not afraid of it," she answered proudly. Seeing I 
did not speak, she asked : " Am I wrong ? ' 

" No, no, child," I returned, "you are perfectly right." 

" And I am to go with you ? ' 

"To be sure you are," I said. 

She expressed her contentment by taking my arm, and in this 
way we returned to the hotel. Elsie had displeased me not a little. 
In no way had she pretended to feel the dreadfulness of her brother's 
ending. There was excuse, it is true, for any indifference she might 
feel as to his fate, but such slaves are we to sham pretences of sensi- 
bility that I did wish she had given utterance to one word of regret, 
however false it might be. My opinion of Elsie's want of heart 
changed altogether when, later in the day, she kept me waiting 
above an hour in the chapel at Las Vegas, whilst she prayed for the 
repose of the soul of Thomas Hethering, and a half hour besides, 
while she made arrangements for Masses for him. Could she believe 
that wretched man to be waiting on probation before being called to 
receive an everlasting reward from the hands of a just as well as a 
merciful Judge ? But who am I, to pass sentence on a fellow- 
sinner ? 

We were fortunate enough to find Lawyer Bell at home, and,, 
though busy, willing to give us a consultation. Elsie's introduction 
to him involved a complicated explanation as to who she was. When 
he had been made to understand that she was the sister of Hether- 
ing he looked curiously at her, not otherwise expressing the surprise 
he must have felt at seeing her there. We took the chairs he placed 
for us, and he waited for me to communicate what it was that 
had brought me to consult him. 



H 
It 



1889.] PAUL RINGWOOD : AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 667 

" Lawyer," I began, not without much hesitation, for at the mo- 
ment it seemed to me I was about to say a very absurd thing, 
" have you ever thought of Durke as the murderer ? ' 

" As an accomplice, yes," Bell answered promptly. 

"You believe Elbert Ringwood guilty?' 1 I questioned further. 

The lawyer looked steadily before him and said, almost without an 
inflection : " If Elbert Ringwood is not the man, I don't know who 
can be. In any court where justice is sanely administered Paul 
Ringwood's indictment would have been quashed, or, at least, the 
trial postponed till his brother had been found. But then, though I 
have nothing to say against Judge Margravine, justice is not always 
sanely dealt out here. Any number of rogues get off scot free ; then 
something happens to rouse judge, jury, and people, and one poor 
devil is made the scapegoat of many." 

In the name of everything that is reasonable, ' I exclaimed, 
if you know the guilty party, why has he not been found ? ' 

With the most exasperating coolness Bell replied : " Elbert Ring- 
wood has been found." 

For a moment I was speechless ; then, with a strong effort con- 
trolling myself, I cried: "You intolerable bundle of red tape! If you 
can put your finger on Elbert Ringwood, how is it that he's not 
locked up in place of his brother, dying by inches in that abominable 
hole yonder ? ' 

Elsie had hold of my arm, a very excitable woman, and she was 
crying in a very silly manner : " Doctor ! doctor ! ' Not budging 
from his seat, the lawyer said in a tone meant to irritate me : " The 
reason that Elbert Ringwood is not here is that he is dying by the 
square rod in the hospital at Santa Fe." 

" You may think that to be wit," I rejoined, "but let me tell you, 
Lawyer Bell, that I, who am a friend of Paul Ringwood, do not ap- 
preciate it." 

The man's next words were intended for an insult. Fortunately, 
my self-control clad me in mail impenetrable to his shafts. 

" It is a pity, as you are a friend of Ringwood's, that you did not 
appear sooner, Dr. Stancy," he said. "One word" I had been 
about to speak " you had better allow me to know my business. 
If you are to interfere, I throw up Ringwood's case. Mad talking, 
and, much less, mad acting will not avail him. This is final." 

"I answer for Dr. Stancy's not meddling," Elsie Hethering 
astounded me by saying. 

" Madam," I said calmly and gravely, " do so. I wash my hands 
of the whole business. All I have to say is this: if there is to be a 
lawyer hung hereabouts, I'll gladly witness the ceremony." 
VOL. XLIX. 43 



668 PAUL RINGWOOD : AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

It will scarcely be credited, the lawyer laughed, and it had 
been many a day since so jocose an expression lit up Elsie's face. 

" Dr. Stancy," the lawyer said, " it may please you to hear that 
I have succeeded in procuring a reprieve of six months for Paul 
Ringwood. You must not think I have been altogether idle." 

However it happened, the next moment I was shaking Bell by 
the hand, and Elsie was patting me gently on the back and tell- 
ing me to trust entirely to the lawyer. 

I would not give in altogether, and said : " I trust God alone 
entirely." The lawyer smiled, and Elsie said that I was incor- 
rigible. 

" Have all these wonderful things happened, lawyer, since I saw 
you yesterday ?" I asked. 

" I knew of Ringwood's being in Santa Fe a day ago ; I go 
to question him to-day. The reprieve reached me within the last 
hour. Would you like to inform Paul of it ? You would save me 
an hour, and I am much pushed for time." 

He meant it kindly, and I was about to thank him, when Elsie 
exclaimed: "And we are occupying your time! Shall we go now, 
doctor?" 

We got away from the lawyer's office then, and I do not know 
whether he was the more pleased at my going or I to go. Off 
the way to the jail Elsie asked me whether I had a permit to 
visit Paul Ringwood. I replied that I had not, that one was not 
necessary. We had a reprieve, and that was sufficient to gain us 
admittance. I was not wrong. The reprieve did admit us, or 
was it what I left with the jailer to celebrate the good news that 
a six months' respite had been granted Paul ? Having expected 
Elsie Hethering to exhibit some agitation at seeing Ringwood, 
womanlike, she disappointed me. Their meeting was without em- 
barrassment on either side, the meeting of two friends under ordi- 
nary circumstances, who might have parted the day before. Ring- 
wood was looking much better than when I saw him last ; a clean 
shave and some attention to his garb in general had much to do 
with this change in his appearance. 

He placed the only chair in the cell for Elsie, offered me a 
seat on the bed, and sat himself on a box against the wall. Then 
the pair of them began a conversation brimful of wit, overflowing 
with humor, and very instructive withal. Elsie said that it was 
glorious weather, and Paul replied that the climate of New Mexico 
is the loveliest in the world, and she wished to know whether it 
ever rained, and he said that it did, but seldom, and so on. It 
was nauseating. I stood it as long as I could, which I am free 



1 889.] PA UL RlNGWOOD : AN A UTOBIOGRAPHY. 669 

to confess was not very long. " Sun, moon, and stars !" I cried, 
'you are not in a drawing-room that you need bore yourself 
with asinine remarks about the weather. I'll be hanged if I can 
stand it!" 

Poor Paul looked at me and smiled. " Pardon me, doctor," 
he said, "it is I who shall be hanged." 

I was an old fool for making that awkward speech, and, think- 
ing to cover it with the good news I had brought, I took out the 
reprieve with a flourish, and, having read it aloud, gave three 
cheers, which brought the turnkey in haste to see if any one 
had a fit or needed a strait-jacket. To my amazement, Paul 
did not appear to enter into my feelings, but sat stock still, gazing 
vacantly into space. 

You have been too abrupt, doctor," said Elsie, speaking 
rapidly. Even while she spoke Paul closed his eyes and rolled 
off the box onto the floor. In a moment Elsie had loosened his 
collar and I was bathing his head from a pitcher of water. Elsie 
raised his head and rested it on her arm, and a few moments after 
he opened his eyes and saw her bending over him. 

"You don't think I did it?" he asked with an effort 
. "Could I be here if I did?" she said. 

He smiled contentedly, and, never having considered the matter 
before, it struck me at that moment that Paul Ringwood was not 
altogether a bad-looking fellow. Between the turnkey and myself 
we got him on his bed, then Elsie and I went away Elsie to 
keep me waiting at the chapel, as I have stated before. From 
that day I began to treat Ringwood as I had treated Elsie. It 
is needless to say that he mended under my treatment. He was 
very careless, however, about taking his medicines. I even found 
several doses one day dissolving in a basin of water. Having 
taxed him with his carelessness, he blushed violently and pro- 
mised to be more careful in future. On that occasion I strength- 
ened the doses because of the loss he had sustained in having 
gone a day without his medicine; I may add, with the most bene- 
ficial result. 

About a week after his fainting fit, Elsie, Paul, and myself 
were sitting in the cell, when we were unexpectedly joined by 
Lawyer Bell and a young man, who was introduced to Elsie and 
me as John Greene, owner with Ringwood of a ranch and I 
don't know how many thousand head of sheep. A great, muscular 
fellow, with what the Scotch call a bonny face. After John Greene 
had seated himself on the end of the table, a position he seemed 
to have no difficulty in accommodating himself to, and the lawyer 



670 PAUL RING WOOD: AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. [Aug., 

had taken the foot of the bed, he, the lawyer, said to me : " Dr. 
Stancy, permit me to compliment you on your acute perceptive 
and detective qualities." 

Not trusting this absurd speech, I merely looked at him, waiting 
him to say further. 

" You are right, doctor," he continued ; " Durke killed Hether- 
ing." 

In great excitement Paul sprang to his feet, exclaiming : " Then 
Elbert is innocent ; thank God, thank God !" 

I believe that we all were thanking God, for Elsie's lips were 
moving as if in prayer ; John Greene assented by saying : " God be 
praised indeed!" and even the lawyer said: "Yes, Ringwood, Provi- 
dence has shown a way out of your troubles." A revulsion ol 
feeling had taken place in Paul, for he said doubtingly : " Are you 
sure, Lawyer Bell ?" 

" As sure as that the sun is shining," said the lawyer, and we all 
found ourselves looking up through the barred window to verify 
that statement. The lawyer, using Paul's only pillow to lean 
against, took a folded MS. from his breast-pocket. 

" This document," he said, flattening out its creases, " contains 
a statement made on oath by Elbert Ringwood, now in the hospital 
of the Sisters of Charity at Santa Fe." 

The man spoke pompously, affectedly clearing his throat, then 
proceeded to read from the MS. he held in his hand. Probably 
he was in imagination before a crowded court : 

" I, Elbert Ringwood, sane in mind, knowing that I am about to 
die, for the easing of my conscience, and for the clearing of the 
good name of my brother, Paul Ringwood, do purpose to tell all I 
know of the murder of Thomas Hethering on the night of Friday, 
the 3<Dth day of April, 1880. I swear solemnly to tell the truth, 
and nothing but the truth, so help me God. 

" For years past Hethering had a hold over me because of a 
check I had forged in his name. I had squandered the property left 
me by my father (would to God he had left it to my brother Paul !), 
and I lived by gambling and doing Hethering's dirty work. William 
Durke, a brother-in-law of Hethering's second wife, and a lawyer 
in Santa Fe, induced Hethering to visit New Mexico to see about 
investing in the newly discovered mines. Partly because I hoped 
to make some money, partly because Hethering needed me, I 
followed him and his wife out here. As usual, Hethering was 
lucky, and I lost what little I had at the time. On the 3Oth ot 
April, 1880, Hethering, Durke, and myself went to Las Vegas, new 



1889.] PAUL RING WOOD: AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 671 

town, to meet a certain John Slowcombe, of Albuquerque, who 
was to be induced by Durke to buy Hethering's share in a mine in 
the placers. The mine was supposed to be worthless, otherwise 
there would have been no question of selling. Slowcombe held off 
till Hethering had come down fully one-half from the sum first 
asked for his share of the mine. I am glad to say that I have 
learned that Slowcombe has found a fortune in this mine. After 
this business transaction we adjourned to Manzanare's bank, where 
Slowcombe cashed a check, Hethering insisting on having his 
money down. The money paid, Slowcombe and Durke left us, and 
Hethering and I passed the remainder of the day about town, 
drinking heavily. 

Having spent a good part of an hour after dusk in Las Vegas 
Hall, Hethering proposed that we return to the Hot Springs. He 
wanted to get to bed, for he intended going to Santa Fe next morn- 
ing. It was when we left the bar-room that we met my brother 
Paul. There was a quarrel, but it is not true that it was brought 
about by Paul. Hethering grossly insulted him, and Paul struck 
him. He did right. Paul was always a man ; that is the least I can 
say of him. Hethering did not strike back, though he had been 
knocked down. He crawled into the back seat of our buggy, 
begging me to drive off that Ringwood wished to murder him. 
When passing the Lone Star saloon Hethering insisted on stopping. 
He wanted a drink to brace him up. ' I'm like ice,' he said, 'just 
feel my hand.' I did so. It was like ice. Hethering took several 
drinks before he said he had enough. I did not drink. Hethering 
was intoxicated when we left the saloon, so much so that he did 
not recognize that the man who came running up, calling on us to 
wait for him, was Durke. When it oozed into his brain who it was 
getting into the buggy, he insisted, with drunken cordiality, on 
Durke's taking the whole of the back seat; he himself, he said, would 
drive; he was feeling glorious, just in trim to handle the reins, and 
what a night it was for a drive ! Durke was in a very bad 
humor. He called Hethering a fool for letting the mine go for a 
song. In this he was unreasonable, for it was quite as much his 
fault as Hethering's that the share in the mine had been sold. He 
went on to say that he knew now for a certainty that there was a 
fortune in the mine. Hethering, partly sobered, gave Durke the lie, 
and their quarrel blazed hotter and hotter. Beyond the Lone Star 
there is a branch road to the right, another to the left, both leading 
over a prairie. Over this latter road we were dashing at full speed, 
every moment in danger of being thrown into one of the many 
alkali-pits about the town. By sheer force I got the reins from 



672 PAUL RING WOOD: AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. [Aug., 

Hethering. He had been unsparing in the use of the whip, and I 
had much difficulty in pulling up the horses and turning them in 
the direction of the old town. 

"My taking the reins had enabled me to get the horses under 
control; at the same time it had enabled Hetheringto give the whole 
of his attention to Durke. I wore a short summer jacket, and from 
where Durke sat he could see the glint of my silver-handled pistol 
sticking out of my pistol-pocket. We were in sight of the Gallinas ; 
their quarrel was at white heat. In a half-hearted way I was en- 
deavoring to pacify them, when Durke called out Hethering's name, 
prefixing an insulting epithet to it. Hethering put his hand behind 
him as if to draw a pistol, when Durke, unarmed in deference to the 
law of which he was a representative, whipped my pistol from my 
pocket and shot at Hethering, killing him instantly. Hethering fell 
off the seat behind the dashboard. 

"'You will witness it was done in self-defence,' Durke cried, un- 
manned by fright. ' Here is your pistol, Ringwood ; take it, take 
it ! ' 

" Seeing that I would not touch it, he threw it from him, and it 
fell on the shore of the stream. I had pulled up the horses, and 
Durke, somewhat calmer, jumped down from the buggy. 'It might 
have been you as well as me,' he said; 'help me put the body in 
the water, and we will go on to the Springs and let it be found. I'll 
take care we're not suspected.' 

" What crazy notion he had I don't know ; but I positively re- 
fused to touch the dead man. Half-dragging it, half-carrying it, he 
got the body to the river-side. The moment I was rid of it I 
whipped up the horses and fled. Like a flash it had come to me 
that a score of witnesses could be collected to swear that I had been 
with Hethering, not one who knew of Durke's being with us. I 
stood a thousand chances to Durke's one of being accused. Never 
for a moment did it occur to me that Paul would be suspected. 
What caused Durke to lead up suspicion against my brother Paul ? 
His infernal cunning. Had I been the one arrested I could have 
told the whole story, and my word would have been as good as 
Durke's. From what I am told, things did look black for Paul, 
and he could tell no tales. 

"Beyond Glorietta I saw my horses were giving out A few 
miles further they fell in their tracks. I unharnessed them, and 
had I had powder and ball, would have put them out of their 
misery. On foot I made my way to the mines. My only idea was 
to hide myself, to make enough money to take me out of the 
country. A week ago there was an explosion in the mines, and 



1889.] PAUL RING WOOD: AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 673 

I was brought here to the sisters to die. Their name is Chanty, 
and they live up to that name. I knew nothing of Paul's trial and 
sentence till Lawyer Bell told me of it. This is all I know of the 
murder of Thomas Hethering. I beg my brother Paul's pardon for 
all the wrongs I have done him all his life long. If I dare say it, 
may God bless him ! 

"ELBERT RlNGWOOD. 

"Witnesses: THEODORE BELL, Attorney-at-Law. 
"JOHN GREENE, Sheep-Farmer. 

" SISTER PLACIDA, Sister-servant of Santa Fe Hospital 
of the Sisters of Charity." 

There was perfect silence for a few moments after the lawyer had 
finished reading Elbert Ringwood's statement. The silence was 
broken by Paul. Unaffectedly, and as if communing with himself, 
he said : "God is very good to me." 

Elsie was the only one who commented on what the lawyer had 
read. " I suppose," she said to Bell, " you endeavored to trace 
Elbert Ringwood by the horses and buggy. If the horses were left 
to die on the roadside, and the buggy left in the road, is it not 
strange you never heard of them?" 

"The carcass of a horse more or less," rejoined the lawyer, 
"would not attract much attention out here. As for the buggy, 
that, undoubtedly, was appropriated." 

"Why indulge in euphuisms?" I interposed. "Why not say 
stolen?" 

" Because a thing abandoned cannot be stolen," retorted 
Bell. 

" Did Ringwood l^ave a placard on the buggy stating it to be 
abandoned property? If not, how was one to know whether or not 
it was waiting its owner's return?" I asked sharply. 

What answer the lawyer would have made me I don't know, for 
John Greene, who hitherto had been silent, broke in with a request 
to know what was to be done to get his partner out of " this hole." 
The lawyer was the only one who could suggest anything feasible. 
Another attempt was to be made to have the decision of the Las 
Vegas court reversed. Bell was sanguine that, with Elbert Ring- 
wood's statement to back him, this reversal of judgment could be 
obtained. In the meantime, he said, he had a warrant out for the 
arrest of Durke. " We will get hold of him," he added, "if his 
sister-in-law does not make short work of him." 

" Is she aware of Durke's guilt ? " I asked, much sur- 
prised. 



674 PAUL RINGWOOD : AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. [Aug., 

"I had to trust her," Bell returned. "She is likely to know of 
his whereabouts." 

It was dark when Elsie and I returned to the Springs. Half- 
starved as I was, the news Margaret had for me kept me a time 
longer from the supper-table. She had succeeded in her experi- 
ment* 

NOTES BY THE EDITOR. 

When I undertook to edit the autobiography of Paul Ringwood it was with 
the distinct understanding that I would be allowed to keep myself in the back- 
ground, and that no part of his history was to be told by myself. Unfortunately, 
an event has taken place which forces me either to alter my decision or to put 
forth an autobiography without an end. I have chosen the former course. By 
some mischance, Dr. Stancy has seen the proof-sheets of his narration as far as 
ready. When he discovered that his long passages on the beneficent qualities of 
alkali had been mercilessly cut out he demanded in a passion the return of his 
MS. He would listen to nothing I said; so, to avoid a scene, I complied with 
his demand. The old man, about the best-hearted Christian I have ever come 
across, left me, convinced that I am in the pay of a certain Dr. Fitch, whom he 
accuses of doing all in his power to destroy confidence in his, Dr. Stancy's, dis- 
coveries. Luckily, I have material at hand that will in great part supply the 
place of the lost MS. 

Two days after the reading of Elbert Ringwood's statement Paul Ringwood 
received a letter in which was an account of his brother's death. It stated that 
Elbert died asking forgiveness of his brother and pardon of the God he had so 
much offended. The latter was written by Sister-servant Placida (servant is the 
title of a superioress of a convent of Mother Seton's Sisters of Charity). Four 
days later Dr. Stancy, his sister, and Elsie Hethering left for the East. A par- 
don for Paul Ringwood reached Las Vegas a month after. Lawyer Bell had 
counselled that petition be made for it, the Supreme Court being slow in its 
movements. A reversal of judgment coming after would wipe away any stain 
that might have attached itself to the name of Paul Ringwood. 

As soon as he was at liberty Paul Ringwood went to John Greene's ranch 
to wind up his affairs preparatory to leaving the Territory for ever. He had not 
decided where to go, but as a man of means he could choose his dwelling-place. 
While Paul Ringwood was settling his affairs news came of the arrest of Durke. 
The arrest was brought about by his sister-in-law. Court was in session at Las 
Vegas, and Durke's trial took place almost immediately after his arrest. In the 
meanwhile the judgment against Paul Ringwood had been reversed. The ver- 
dict in Durke's case was that he had killed Hethering in self-defence. Scarcely 
liad he been pronounced a free man than he was arrested on a charge of conspir- 
ing against the life of Paul Ringwood. He was found guilty, the chief witness 
against him being his sister-in-law, and was sentenced for a term of years which 
now, 1889, is far from having expired. 

In November of 1881 Paul Ringwood and Elsie Hethering were wedded in 
Manresa Church, Cecilsburg. After the wedding they went to Europe, remain- 
ing there above a year. As it should be, Mr. Ringwood will end the autobiog- 
raphy. 



1889.] PAUL RINGWOOD: AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 675 

POSTSCRIPT BY PAUL RINGWOOD. 

At last a time came when Paul Ringwood was free to stand 
before the woman he loved and say to her : " Elsie, will you be my 
wife ; shall it be that you will help me and I help you through the 
remainder of our days ? ' 

And, Elsie having said yes to this, one bright morning they 
went to the good old priest who had so often befriended them, and 
by him they were wed. They spent some time abroad, and whilst 
in England a boy was born to them. Coming home, they settled 
down in that hallowed land on the shores of the Potomac, not far 
from old St. Mary's. 

My wife and I are very happy. From time to time our old 
friends visit us ; indeed, at this moment Jack Greene is out on the 
porch telling wondrous tales to our boy. He is very anxious to 
take me and my family back with him to New Mexico. This can- 
not be. The territory has too many unpleasant remembrances for 
me. There are two little girls besides our boy. His name is Paul, 
and at times he startles me, so like is he to a little Paul I once knew. 
He is a good, happy child, and if not spoiled, will make a fine gen- 
tleman. 

My wife and I feel fully the sweetness of our life ; still, we look 
forward to that happiest day that hath no end. May God, so good 
to us, give it to Elsie and me, with our little ones, to live that never- 
ending day ! 

HAROLD DIJON. 



THE END. 



6; 6 AN OLD- TIME TOWN. [Aug., 



AN OLD-TIME TOWN. 

IT is a common thing to hear French people remark that the 
" English are everywhere but in their own country." By the 
English they wish to designate, with a fine disregard of detail, all 
English-speaking people ; to them, between the Briton pur sang 
and the American there is only a distinction too nice to be drawn 
in general conversation. From this comprehensive point of view 
they have a certain show of reason. North, south, east, and west 
of France one hears one's mother-tongue spoken almost as freely 
as the language of the country. In the Midi, on the shores of the 
Mediterranean, on the coasts of Normandy and Brittany, the all- 
pervading Anglo-Saxon abounds ; and yet, strange to say, in some 
of the places immediately around Paris he is conspicuous by his 
absence. Within ten or twelve miles of the capital there are towns 
unknown to the exploring foreigners. 

One of these little-frequented towns is St.-Germain-en-Laye. 
Of course, every one who visits Paris makes an excursion there, and 
in the brief two or three hours of his sojourn there is shown what he 
imagines to be the lions of the place. He promenades the terrasse 
and the parterre, walks through the museum, dines at the Pavilion 
Henri IV., birthplace of the illustrious Louis XIV., and stands 
with bated breath in the room where that great monarch first saw 
the light; he furthermore makes the tour of the gardens and 
admires the sentiment which prompted, and the ingenuity which 
contrived, to clip the densely thick yew-trees into the shape and 
semblance of cradles in, it is to be presumed, remembrance of that 
never- to-be-sufficiently- honored berceaurette in which "La Grande 
Monarque ' was rocked to slumber. Our tourist may even, if he 
be very enterprising, penetrate some little way into the forest, after 
which he triumphantly marks St. -Germain in his guide-book as one 
of the places he has thoroughly "done." Apart from the thriving 

town of over sixteen thousand inhabitants, of whose existence he 

t 

is ignorant, it would probably surprise him very much to hear that 
St. -Germain has a hundred points of interest actual and historical, 
and besides a record of past and present prosperity, has considerable 
claims to a place in the list of fashionable resorts. It is what would 
be called in slang parlance a "swell neighborhood," and from May 
to October is full of very grand people indeed ; grand, that is, as 
far as past pedigree and present title go to constitute grandness. 



1889.] AN OLD-TIME TOWN. 677 

Behind the chateau and the park, and away on the long roads which 
branch from the centre of the town, there are numerous smart 
villas and pretty cottages, some of them standing in large grounds, 
which in the summer are occupied almost exclusively by members 
of the old nobility, descendants of those lords and ladies who dance 
so gaily through the pages of French history dancing so gaily, 
poor things ! that the loud music and the sound of their shuffling 
feet drowned the ominous rumblings of the approaching earth- 
quake, until one fine day the ground they had thought so solid 
yawned into an open chasm, and then it was too late for many of 
them. 

It would seem as though in the great caldron of humanity there 
are three quantities which will never fuse with the mass of ingredi- 
ents the Jews, the gypsies, and the French aristocracy. The latter 
revolutions and counter-revolutions, bogus empires and citizen 
kingships, have left unchanged ; in these last days of the third 
republic they are as much apart as ever. Some of them are very 
poor, rarely emerging from their gloomy old chateaux ; some ot 
them are enormously rich, and make a figure in the world in Paris, 
London, Nice, wherever the votaries of fashion congregate ; but one 
and all they have the same traditions, the same race prejudices, the 
same society, the same social and political cultes. Now and 
then one of the men may marry outside their ranks, but the women 
never. If a man does so it is from sheer necessity ; the old coat-of- 
arms is sorely battered and shabby ; the vicomte or the baron feels 
that he must " dorer son blason," and, as Madame la Vicomtesse, his 
wife will be received even if she be the daughter of a chocolate 
manufacturer or a sewing-machine maker. In Paris this old nobility 
is spoken of collectively as " the Faubourg," . because it clusters 
principally in the quarter known as the Faubourg St.-Germain, 
where there are streets and streets of old family mansions called 
hotels. In the country it is impossible to be so gregarious ; manoirs 
and chateaux must lie miles apart ; but there is a large proportion 
of unfortunate individuals whose ancestral domains were destroyed 
or confiscated during the terrible storm of 1789. After the re- 
storation these people found themselves, so to speak, homeless 
(for in many cases confiscated estates were not returned) ; they 
had to build or buy themselves houses somewhere, and many 
of them chose St-Germain-en-Laye, always a great royalist 
centre. 

The two principal streets of the town are long, narrow, ill-smell- 
ing, and ill-paved, the population largely composed of dirty children, 
lanky cats, and half-starved dogs, who play harmoniously around the 



678 AN OLD-TIME TOWN. [Aug., 

little heaps of garbage that adorn the sidewalks. The main street, 
La Rue de Mareil, ends abruptly ; the land seems to break away, and 
a rough road leads down a steep hill, called the cote, into a valley. 
When one reaches the summit of this cote one strikes a view which 
compensates for all the ill endured in reaching it. A wide, undulat- 
ing stretch of country, with glimpses of the silvery Seine stealing be- 
tween green meadows and vineyards, here and there dotted on the 
landscape or clustering up at the foot of a wooded hill is a group 
of stone houses ; a slender spire rising in the midst indicates one 
of those old-world, long-forgotten feudal towns out of line of 
steamboat and railway; they dream through a half-existence round 
the ruins of a chateau whose lords, once the mainspring of their 
being, have passed away, leaving only name and memory behind. 
Away to the left, on the forest heights of Marly-le-roi, are the ruins 
of the famous aqueduct, its curved lines and fine arches still standing 
clear against the sky. Louis XIV., not satisfied with Versailles, St- 
Cloud, St. -Germain, and half a hundred other castles, must needs 
build the palace of Marly. Crowning folly of his long reign, the 
site pleased him, and, in comparison with the royal pleasure, such 
things as enormous natural difficulties and a severely tried ex- 
chequer were trifles. There was no water at Marly, and it must be 
brought from Bonjeval, several miles away; so the great aqueduct was 
built. Millions of francs were expended on the chateau, which was 
the most perfect, the most luxuriant, the most picturesque of all the 
royal residences, and it naturally bore the brunt of the people's 
wrath when at last they rose in their might One searches now in 
vain for traces of it ; not two stones are left standing. 

Some one once said, to know Ely Cathedral was a liberal edu- 
cation. To know, or, rather, to understand, St. -Germain thoroughly 
one must be, to put it mildly, tolerably well read. I would caution 
all who have not a taste for historical research to avoid it. Dead- 
and-gone dynasties, and the great personages attached to them, meet 
one at every turn. When, with a view to appreciating the chateau, 
one has carefully read up the reign of Franois I., one must then 
brace up for a severe course of Henri IV. and Louis XIII., both of 
whom have left their marks on the town ; but it is not until the seven- 
teenth century that one faces one's actual labor. The whole town is 
pervaded with souvenirs of the Grande Monarque, and the periods im- 
mediately preceding and succeeding him. In the quiet and sleepy 
by-streets there are great old houses, some standing flush to the 
road, others lying back in deep court-yards barred with high iron 
gates. On the walls facing the street there is often a placard setting 
iorth that in such and such a year this was the abode of Monsieur de 



1889.] AN OLD-TIME TOWN. 679 

Sully, Madame de Maintenon, Madame de Montespan, Monsieur 
Colbert, or some other famous worthy or unworthy, most of whom, 
as will be seen from the given examples, flourished in the reign of 
Louis XIV. 

I have spoken several times, but only incidentally, of the chateau; 
it is time we accorded it more than passing notice. 

Leaving the puny little railway depot, one emerges onto a large, 
square place. Immediately across it is a row of irregular houses, 
with streets branching to either hand ; on the left of the railway 
station, so close to it that they touch the building, are the iron rail- 
ings which enclose the park. Half across the place, on the same side, 
stands the chateau, a most noble and imposing building; finished 
during the time of Franois I., it is in the best period of French re- 
naissance. Built of brick with stone facings, it possesses a depth and 
warmth of tone which is very charming. What was once the castle 
grounds are now public gardens, called collectively the parterre, and 
in summer always gay with beds of flowers. Behind the parterre 
rise the tall trees that line the trim allees, and behind the allees is 
the forest itself, stretching away for many a mile. It is not, perhaps, 
so grandly wooded as Fontainebleau, but it covers, nevertheless, a 
charming tract of country, and one may ride or ramble there for ever 
without tiring of its cool glades and green deeps. 

Perhaps the terrasse is after all what the good folks of St. -Ger- 
main most delight in ; it is a broad, straight road three miles in 
length, with the forest coming to the very edge on one side ; on the 
other is the valley of the Seine, with Paris in the far distance. The 
terrasse was made for a kingly promenade, and fabulous sums were 
spent on its construction. Even with modern engineering it would 
be no easy thing to make, for the ground sheers away so steeply. 
Looking over the railings, one sees the peasants plodding away in the 
vineyards which slope down to the little village of Pecq, where the 
train from Paris has to put on an extra engine before it can pull 
puffing up the hill to St. -Germain. Beyond Pecq is the river, then 
fields and gardens, then Paris itself, guarded on one side by the 
impregnable fortress of Mont Valerien and on the other by Mont 
Martre, crowned with its Church of the Sacred Heart. 

On fine summer Sundays the band plays on the terrasse, and all 
St. -Germain, nobles, bourgeois, and soldiers, with their wives and 
families, parade up and down to the music. 

The chateau, with its airy lines and spirals and its graceful flying 
buttresses, brings out in strong relief the exceeding ugliness of the 
church, whose west front faces the principal entrance to the chateau. 
It is a consolation to know that when the church was first built it 



68o AN OLD-TIME TOWN. [Aug., 

was less hideous than the present building; but when St.-Germain 
was at the height of its glory, and the king and his courtiers crowded 
the town, and it was necessary to enlarge it, the original design was 
smothered under the improvements, and in its modest stead rose one 
of those awful Franco-Greco, would-be classic structures in stone and 
stucco peculiar to the eighteenth and end of the seventeenth centur- 
ies, a style which culminated under Napoleon and languished and 
-expired under Louis Philippe. 

Inside the church there are many tombs and mural tablets 
adorned with effigies of counts and barons, some leaning gracefully 
over their funeral urns, others recumbent, all in enormous curly wigs, 
and trying to look as much as possible as they did when they sat 
under the great mahogany and gilt pulpit. 

Among the tombs there is one at which, in spite of one's nine- 
teenth-century knowledge of the Stuarts, one feels an indescribable 
emotion, a little of the old enthusiasm which the unhappy line in- 
spired in its followers. (Such at least was the writer's experience; but 
it may be only a case of " chien de chasse, chasse de race," for laid 
up among other treasured relics is there not a certain silver brooch 
worn by a great-great-grandfather at Culloden ?) 

In a side chapel in the quiet church of St. -Germain lies the body 
of James II., the last Stuart king of England, the last English king. 
His resting-place is very simple; it must be owned, even very ugly; 
there is an immense tablet covered with a pompous Latin inscrip- 
tion, beneath which is a stone slab supported on four pillars, on 
which such tokens as wreaths of immortels, of beads, sometimes of 
fresh flowers, show that he is not forgotten. Under the slab are 
sculptured the crest and coat-of-arms of England ; indeed, it 
is not these latter insignia which are wanting, for Her Majesty 
Queen Victoria, taking on herself the restoration and preservation 
of her great-uncle's (?) monument, has had the walls repainted, 
and all over a background of lively lilac ramp " the lion and 
the unicorn fighting for the crown." If, to continue the old 
song, " the lion beat the unicorn all round the town," its presence 
there shows a certain sense of the fitness of things. When the 
unhappy James fled so weakly, dreading foolishly lest his fa- 
ther's fate should be his also, he took refuge in France, and was 
received most graciously by Louis XIV., who placed at his disposal 
the royal chateau of St.-Germain, where for years James held his 
mockery of a court, surrounded by his faithful followers, making 
with them endless schemes for the resumption of his crown, but lack- 
ing always the nerve-power to carry out his plans. Among those 
who went with him into exile there were many English, but more 



1889.] AN OLD-TIME TOWN. 68 1 

Scotch and Irish. Who says the Irish are not loyal, let them read 
history ; they spilt their best blood like water, dying by thousands 
for their king. One thinks with pity and strong admiration of those 
who served James Stuart so disinterestedly, bearing hardships and, 
to them, greatest of all trials, expatriation, sooner than submit to an 
alien rule, and one says regretfully, thinking of the noble hearts 
broken, the brave lives fretted away in this foreign land, " If only he 
had been worthy of it ! ' 

In the town, and in the immediate surrounding country, there 
are traces of those exiles, not merely in the cemetery, where there 
are many tombstones to their memory and many nameless and 
forgotten graves (how can it be otherwise, dying so far from clan 
and kinsmen ?), but among the living their descendants remain, 
though to many of them the traditions of their race are extinct, 
and England, Scotland, Ireland are but empty sounds ; only the 
old names remain. Without, including the ducal family of Fitz- 
James, the Viscounts O'Neil de Tyrone, the MacMahons, and the 
Graefries, who have passed into the ranks of the French nobility, 
there are De Clunys, Cluny MacPhersons, Connors, Reilleys, 
Leonards, Craigs, Taverners, Despards, Desmonds among the 
bourgeois and working classes who cannot speak a word of 
English. 

St. -Germain is essentially a military town. Besides the large 
cavalry barracks, always occupied by one or more regiments of 
mounted chasseurs, there is the camp, about three miles out in the 
forest, which, with its long, low stable buildings and groups of red- 
roofed huts, reminds one somewhat of Aldershot One of the 
prettiest sights I can recall was the entrance of a new regiment into 
the town. The old " Onzieme " had been there so many years 
we all looked on it as a fixture and spoke of it affectionately as 
" ours," when suddenly it was ordered, not to Paris, not to Ver- 
sailles, but away, away to the remote Swiss frontier. Oh ! then 
was heard the sound of weeping. Brothers, cousins, friends, not 
to mention sweethearts, were to be torn ruthlessly from us. Fate 
was inexorable ; they went, and for two days red eyes were very 
prevalent, and heads were averted as their owners passed the 
deserted caserne ; after that spirits began to revive somewhat, and 
conjectures were hazarded as to what "they' were like. Every 
sorrow has its consolation. 

"They" made their appearance about nine o'clock one very 
lovely September morning. Slowly they came in sight, winding 
along the narrow road, bordered by green-gray willows, which 
leads into the town at the further end. Their bright blue tunics 



682 AN OLD- TIME TOWN. [Aug., 

and scarlet trousers (both toned down with dust to a somewhat 
softer hue than when spick and span) made two long parallel lines 
of color, above which their drawn swords flashed and sparkled in 
the sun. There were so many of them the avant-garde had 
climbed the steep cote and disappeared into the town while the tail 
of the glittering train was still dragging its long length far back 
among the woods of Marly. 

Oddly enough, soldiers are at somewhat of a discount. At St- 
Germain it is not the ambition of every French servant, as it is of 
her English commeres, to " walk out " with a gay uniform. Perhaps 
the practical common sense which pervades all classes of French- 
women counts for something in the mefiance of the military, and 
teaches that warriors are apt to love and ride away. Another 
reason may be that the young men themselves are in many cases 
drawn (owing to conscription) from the superior classes, to return 
to them when their term of service is expired. Certain it is that 
at all open-air balls and fetes the beaux-sabreurs are considerably 
" out of it," and are often reduced to waltzing with each other, the 
smart and pretty little ouvrieres and blanchisseuses turning up their 
noses at them, while the soberly-clad young shopman or the blue- 
bloused peasant has his pick of partners. 

On the 1 4th of July, the great national fete of the Republic, all 
the town is in festivity; rows and rows of colored lanterns swing 
across the streets, flags fly from every window, bands of youths with 
tri-colored ribbons streaming from their hats parade the streets play- 
ing (most abominably) patriotic tunes on divers sorts of fiendishly 
contrived wind instruments; the Boulanger March, Auxbiseaux, Pere 
la Victoire, and the Marseillaise rend one's ears in succession or simul- 
taneously. At every Carre-four that is, wherever four roads meeting 
form an open space boards are laid down, musicians are hired, the 
itinerant venders of "coco" drops, pleuvois, and noujat gather round 
for the refreshment of the dancers, and as soon as it is dark the fun 
begins. The young men and women of the quartier, even those who 
are no longer in the first bloom of their youth, come forth to dance, 
and dance they do with a verve and vigor which is as admirable 
as it is awe-inspiring, performing wonders in the way of steps, 
and twirling round in interminable polkas till the day begins to 
dawn. 

Another red-letter day is the fete des loges. Away up in the 
forest, in a big old building, now used as a school for officers' daugh- 
ters, but once a royal hunting lodge, the annual fair held in the gay 
old times (we may be sure it has no connection with the demure 
damsels "en pension") is still kept up. Under the shady trees 



1889.] AN OLD-TIME TOWN. 683 

travelling shows, circuses, wax-works, giants, and giantesses are set 
up, together with tourniquets, "little horses," shooting-galleries, 
round-abouts, weighing-machines, etc. There are stalls covered with 
gingerbread and bonbons of every kind ; nearly every other one ex- 
poses something good to eat or drink, for this mass of people who come 
trooping from the town and from the villages round, from Paris itself, 
bring famous appetites with them, and expect to satisfy their hunger 
on the spot. So, besides the numberless restaurants, there are sput- 
tering trays full of fried and frying potatoes (two sous tffe cornet, and 
excellent!); baignets served by a Bretonne, and made as only a Bre- 
tonne can make them ; crepes and sausages ; long boards covered 
with tempting charcuterie, ham, veal, pies, and pates of every kind; 
there are fish, piles of oysters, lobsters, plain or in salad, scarlet 
ecrevisses and delicious-/0tf/#- escargots de Bourgogne otherwise 
snails each with its little dab of green sauce closing the opening of 
the scraped white shell ; but should one seek to penetrate farther, 
what horrors reveal themselves, of which surely garlic is the least ! 
Besides all these there are the barbicues, where fowls, turkeys, and 
geese, legs of mutton and pieces of beef, revolve slowly over beds of 
burning charcoal ; the white-capped cooks dart about basting the 
meat, and the dark shadows of the trees bring into strong contrast 
the glowing richness of the fires. 

All night long they keep it up the bourgeois, the soldiers, the 
peasants, and the people from Paris ; laughing, shouting, dancing, 
feasting, till one hears with something like emotion that there is not 
a bit more bread to be had for love or money. The trumpets 
blare and the cheap-jacks bawl, the merry-go-rounds shriek shrilly, 
and every man, woman, and child who is neither eating, talking, nor 
singing, blows fiercely at a penny horn. Most marvellous to relate, 
all these people are enjoying themselves as last year and the year 
before, and as they are looking forward to enjoying themselves in 
the years to come. 

AGNES FARLEY MILLAR. 



VOL, XLIX. 44 



684 ON WHAT I OVERHEARD. [Aug., 

ON WHAT I OVERHEARD. 

PAPA. " Why shouldn't some one write a poem about you, darling? " 
DAUGHTER. " O papa ! I'm too matter-of-fact, you know." 
HE. " I know you're just the nicest girl in the street." 
SHE (with a kiss). " Yes, papa, I am to you." 

SHE'S just the nicest girl in the street, 

From the crown of her head to the soles of her feet ; 

And I often say so, too. 
If you* only could know her as well as I, 
And I wanted somebody to certify 

My verdict, I'd come to you. 

"I'm partial?" You're right. So all men are 
To the light of some bright, particular star 

Which they love to call their own. 
For let clouds be heavy, or nights be drear, 
There is always a spot somewhere that's clear 

Where my star is shining down. 

It sheds its mellow, soft light around, 

And, somehow, I feel that it smooths the ground, 

Let the way be e'er so rough; 
Gives the blood in my veins a warmer glow ; 
If you owned just one such a star you'd know 

The feeling well enough. 

My darling is jijst such a star to me, 
With never a cloud 'twixt her and me 

So pure, so bright, so sweet. 
There is nothing in all the world I prize 
Like a ray from one of those clear, calm eyes 

Of my nicest girl in the street 

And when at the close of the long, long day 
I turn my steps down the usual way 

With speed that knows no check, 
I need not look, for I know she's there : 
A moment my hands touch some nut-brown hair, 

And two arms are round my neck. 

Ah! then, if to man is granted bliss 
'Tis given to me in that welcome kiss 

From lips so pure and true ; I 
With often the self- same words to greet 
" You're just the nicest girl in the street!" 

"Yes, papa, I am to you." 



1889.] THE LATE FATHER HECKER. 685 



THE LATE FATHER HECKER. 

To be able to write the life and portray the character of that 
^eminent priest and model Christian would be, indeed, an honor; but 
it is one to which I cannot aspire. That honor is reserved for those 
who have known him longer and better, and can, hence, speak more 
worthily of the events of his active life and his invaluable services to 
religion in the United States. To one who came into personal con- 
tact with him only at that period of his life when the struggle that 
landed him in the bosom of Catholicity was over, when years had 
ripened his comprehensive intellect into the full maturity of man- 
hood, his personality presents itself in a different light than the one 
in which it appeared to those who could watch his onward course 
from the time when his intense mental activity began its first flight. 
I can presume only to recall the impressions which I received during 
a short intercourse, extending only over the last few years of his 
life, but that intercourse, I am free to say, I consider as one of the 
many blessings a kind Providence has scattered along the pathway 
of my life. These impressions are engraved too deeply and too 
firmly upon my mind to be obliterated by time, and for that reason 
do I feel it a pleasure as well as a duty to comply with the request 
to furnish a short estimate of his character, and add thereby my 
mite to the abler and worthier tributes that flow from distinguished 
pens in his memory. 

Orestes A. Brownson wrote about the author of Questions 
of the Soul as long ago as 1855 : "Few men really know him, few 
even suspect what is in him ; but one cannot commune with him for 
half an hour and ever be again precisely the same as before." I, for 
one, do not hesitate to say that these words describe better than 
any words of mine the irresistible personal influence which the un- 
pretending, simple, gay, nay, playful, Paulist Father exercised upon 
me at our very first meeting. And I am bold to assert that those 
who were privileged to be with him and near him will bear me out 
in this assertion. He at once impressed me as one to whom God 
Almighty had given a mission of vital importance and whom he had 
been pleased to equip for that purpose. There was hidden beneath 
the surface an intellect, a soul, a knowledge, a love, a charity such as 
the chosen few only possess. He was, in my estimate at least, the 
instrument selected by Providence to become a medium of communi- 
cation between the Catholic and non-Catholic American world. 



686 THE LATE FATHER HECKER. [Aug., 

And for this' reason : Being himself an American " to the manner 
born," he understood the American character as none before him 
ever understood it. The distinguishing national characteristic of 
the American may be defined as solid, practical, sound common- 
sense. Being himself filled with it, he not only understood the 
times but knew also how to make others understand the times, and 
that gift, let it not be forgotten, is a gift as rare as it is precious. 

Father Hecker's own religious belief was the necessary sequence of 
the application of man's reason to man's religious sense under God's 
grace. Religion with him was, therefore, not merely a matter of 
faith. Belief was but one step, and that, comparatively speaking, 
an easy one, in his conception of religion. Religion with him 
embraced the entirety of life, and hence had to influence thought, 
will, and action. A people to whom religion had become a fashion- 
able cloak, a Sunday occupation, an unsatisfied yet strongly-felt 
want, had to be approached by the practical side. He presented, 
therefore, Catholic truth in an entirely new light to his fellow- 
citizens. Dr. Brownson was, no doubt, a star of more brilliant 
light in the firmament of philosophy. But to refute objections to 
Catholicity with irrefutable logic is one thing, and in that line we 
may readily concede that Dr. Brownson stands without peer in the 
United States. But a man may be silenced and yet remain 
untouched in his innermost heart ; a man may be convinced that he 
is wrong, but that conviction does not convert him. His reason 
may no longer be able to offer any resistance, but his heart still 
aches and longs and yearns. It is not enough, therefore, to look 
down from the heights of philosophy, but it is necessary to re- 
move those stumbling-blocks which to the trained scholar, deep 
thinker, and learned divine are indeed none, but which exist, 
nevertheless, and prove insurmountable to the great majority of in- 
telligent people. Father Hecker's practical mind enabled him to put 
himself exactly in the place of those who cannot follow scholastic 
discussions and philosophical controversies, but who have to reckon 
with life as they find it ; who endeavor earnestly to harmonize the 
innate religious sense of man with a creed satisfying intellect and 
heart, and shedding thereby over life's misery the sacred halo of the 
bright light of eternity. 

The American, though he has no definite credo as a nation, nev- 
ertheless believes ; but how lamentably defective does that belief 
prove in life ! Facts, even against our will, override our most 
cherished convictions, and Protestantism jn any form jars sooner or 
later on the ear which intuitively and instinctively feels harmony to 
be the law permeating the universe from beginning to end. How is 



1889.] THE LATE FATHER HECKER. 687 

that mental misery to be helped ? That was the question to the 
solution of which Father Hecker addressed himself. 

He did not change the unchangeable truths of the Catholic 
Church ; nor did he attempt to put into new forms the faith Christ 
taught. No ; he proved simply that rational thinking implies 
rational believing, and that rational believing, in turn, implies believ- 
ing what Christ taught and still teaches through his church. But 
he did not stop there ; he proved that a sterile faith is no faith at 
all, that believing implies willing and acting, and that hence the 
recognition of what is true must needs penetrate life to become of 
practical value as a means of enabling us to reach our God-appointed 
destiny. The proud citizen of the nineteenth century had, therefore, 
nothing to fear from him. He did not ask any one to give up his 
premises, but he took these up, reasoned out their correctness or 
untenability, and led gently step by step to the perception of what 
alone is and can be true. Sympathy with the age and a thorough 
knowledge of how to reach its ear characterize the path, hitherto 
untrodden, on which he set out, paving thereby the way for others to 
follow in his footsteps. 

As regards the mainspring of his activity, I cannot find its ex- 
planation but in a consistent interpretation of his view of Christian 
charity. Just as a sterile faith appeared to him as no faith worth 
having, so also with charity. Whosoever sees is bound in duty to 
make others see, else he is devoid of that virtue of which divine 
inspiration itself said : " But the greatest of these is charity." Is 
it not as much man's duty to bring the " image of the Creator " to 
recognition, worship, and direct communion with the Creator, as 
it is his duty to feed the hungry and clothe the naked ? Are 
we called upon to be charitable only where the inborn sense of 
human fellowship appeals to our better nature and prompts us to 
open the purse and to assist the needy and bring solace and comfort 
to the bedside of the sick and the dying? He looked beyond 
poverty and deathbed upon that countless multitude which is almost 
hopelessly entangled in the network of error ; he saw in them objects 
of charity, worthy the best and most earnest efforts of a man ; and 
he made others feel what he felt himself so strongly, that those who 
do know the truth are bound to guide those who do not know it 
unto this knowledge. With glowing enthusiasm, with a thoroughly 
independent line .of thought, with singular beauty and clearness of 
expression does he devote his rare gifts to this service for his fellow- 
man that he also may partake of that faith which for ever establishes 
peace true peace in the human breast. 

The study of the life of the soul which yearns after light formed, 



688 . TALK ABOUT NEW BOOKS. [Aug., 

consequently, the one object of his untiring efforts. With an uncom- 
mon penetration did he divine what impeded this fervent soul, what 
troubled that other conscientious mind, and led them on gently to 
the recognition of the warming sunshine of Catholic truth. And he 
did this in a way so happy, so earnest, so pleading, so touching that 
the road became attractive and inviting from the very start. What 
keen insight into human nature, what thorough comprehension of the 
intellectual attitude of his country and of the times, what felicity of 
expression, what power of converting is there not displayed in his 
writings ! What unabating zeal to push onward and forward, what 
steadfastness of purpose, what strange combination of unyielding firm- 
ness and gentlest sympathy does he not exhibit throughout his life ! 
Father Hecker was one of those master-minds to whom it was 
given to shape and form and fashion the work of others after him. 
Thereby, if in no other way, is his name snatched from the fate which 
overtakes the multitude oblivion. He has sunk into the grave, 
but he still lives in the work he inaugurated ; and though he has gone 
to his reward, the continuity of his life may be traced by a grateful 
posterity in the devoted labors of those into whom he infused his 
own spirit. Man is born, lives, and dies, but God perpetuates the 
power of those upon whom he has deigned to pour the fulness of 
his spirit during their earthly career. A. DE G. 



TALK ABOUT NEW BOOKS. 

MR. HENRY JAMES is at his best, we think, in his latest volume, 
A London Life, and Other Tales (Macmillan & Co., New York and 
London). And in certain ways ways not easily attainable to any, 
and no-thoroughfares to most his best is very good. With each 
new trial with it that he makes, English seems to become a more 
facile, a more accurate instrument in his hands. His sentences are 
more limpid, more picturesque, more clear. They convey all that 
he intends. More than that though here we come to the limi- 
tation which to many of his readers, and to the present talker among 
the number, is a permanent bar to anything which resembles sym- 
pathetic admiration they apparently mirror all he sees. And he 
sees too little. He is like a person whose eyes have begun to show 
a constitutional change which no procurable glasses wholly compen- 
sate for. 

The story which gives its name to the present collection is an 
elaborately superficial study of the effect produced upon a young 



l88 9-] TALK ABOUT NEW BOOKS. 689 

American girl, Laura Wing, by the scandalous misbehavior of her 
elder sister. The latter is married to an Englishman of good social 
position and is the mother of two pretty little boys. Selina is riot 
quite a professional beauty, since " her photographs were not to be 
purchased in the Burlington Arcade she had kept out of that ; but 
she looked more than ever as they would have represented her if 
they had been obtainable there." Her husband, Lionel Berrington, 
is first presented to the reader on the occasion when he seeks to 
impart to Laura, in a conspicuously cheerful way, " as if he had got 
some good news and were very much encouraged," his positive cer- 
tainty that he has obtained evidence against her sister which will 
secure his divorce. He has " the air of being a good-natured but 
dissipated boy ; with his small stature, his smooth, fat, suffused face, 
his round, watery, light-colored eyes, and his hair growing in curious 
infantile rings." " I don't see why she couldn't have been a little 
more like you," he says to Laura, with a fine appreciation of her, of 
himself, and of the whole situation in general. " If I could have had 
a shot at you first ! ' 

' I don't care for any compliments at my sister's expense,' Laura said with 
some majesty. 

' Oh! I say, Laura, don't put on so many frills, as Selina says. You know 
what your sister is as well as I do ! ' They stood looking at each other a 
moment and he appeared to see something in her face which led him to add : 
* You know, at any rate, how little we hit it off. ' 

" 'I know you don't love each other it's too dreadful.' 

" ' Love each other ? She hates me as she'd hate a hump on her back. 
She'd do me any devilish turn she could. There isn't a feeling of loathing that 
she doesn't have for me ! She'd like to stamp on me and hear me crack like a 
black beetle, and she never opens her mouth but she insults me.' Lionel Ber- 
rington delivered himself of these assertions without violence, without passion or 
the sting of a new discovery ; there was a familiar gayety in his trivial little tone, 
and he had the air of being so sure of what he said that he did not need to 
exaggerate in order to prove enough. 

" ' Oh, Lionel ! ' the girl murmured, turning pale. * Is that the particular 
thing you wished to say to me ? ' 

" ' And you can't say it's my fault ; you won't pretend to do that, will you ? ' 
he went on. ' Ain't I quiet, ain't I kind, don't I go steady ? Haven't I given 
her every blessed thing she has ever asked for ? ' 

" ' You haven't given her an example ! ' Laura replied with spirit. * You 
don't care for anything in the wide world but to amuse yourself, from the begin- 
ning of the year to the end. No more does she and perhaps it's even worse in 
a woman. You are both as selfish as you can live, with nothing in your head or 
your heart but your vulgar pleasure, incapable of a concession, incapable of a 
sacrifice.' She, at least, spoke with passion; something that had been pent up in 
her soul broke out, and it gave her relief, almost a momentary joy. It made 
Lionel Berrington stare ; he colored, but after a moment he threw back his head 
with laughter. l Don't you call me kind when I stand here and take all that ? 
If I'm so keen for my pleasure, what pleasure do you give me ? Look at the 



690 TALK ABOUT NEW BOOKS. [Aug., 

way 1 take it, Laura. You ought to do me justice. Haven't I sacrificed my 
home ? and what more can a man do ? ' 

" ' I don't think you care any more about your home than Selina does. And 
it's so sacred and so beautiful, God forgive you ! You are all blind and senseless 
and heartless, and I don't know what poison is in your veins. There is a curse 
on you, and there will be a judgment ! ' the girl went on, glowing like a young 
prophetess. 

" * What do you want me to do ? Do you want me to stay at home and read 
the Bible ? ' her companion demanded with an effect of profanity, confronted 
with her deep seriousness. 

" ' It wouldn't do you any harm, once in a while.' 

" 'There will be a judgment on her, that's very sure, and I know where it 
will be delivered,' said Lionel Berrington, indulging in a visible approach to a 
wink. . . . 'You know all about her; don't make believe you don't,' he 
continued in another tone. ' You see everything you're one of the sharp ones. 
There's no use beating about the bush, Laura you've lived in this precious house 
and you're not so green as that comes to. Besides, you're so good yourself that 
you needn't give a shriek if one is obliged to say what one means. Why didn't 
you grow up a little sooner ? Then, over there in New York, it would certainly 
have been you I would have made up to. You would have respected me eh ? 
Now don't say you wouldn't.'" 

And so on for several more pages, admirable, doubtless, in their 
presentation of the materialism underlying certain aspects of English 
social life, and all devoted to the effort of this admirable youth and 
model brother-in-law to convince Laura that it will be to her 
interest and advantage to fully qualify herself as a witness on his 
side in the approaching suit. 

Laura's predicament is, certainly, more than sufficiently delicate. 
As Mr. James says, she is a " dependent, impecunious, tolerated 
little sister, representative of the class whom it behooves above all 
to mind their own business." On the death of their parents she, 
has gone over to London to live with her married sister, taking 
with her a great deal of native, untouched American innocence, and 
not much else except the " dreadfully little ' annual income which 
serves to buy her " uncommonly dressy ' clothes. When her eyes 
begin to open gradually to Selina's enormities she has no idea 
what to do. Shelter is offered her by Lady Davenant, a kindly 
cynic of eighty, in whose own family " the ladies had not inveter- 
ately turned out well," and who has in some not too burdensome 
or binding fashion laid upon herself the care of providing Laura 
with a husband. But the girl is a trifle difficult. She hates to be 
"protected." She thinks, though not very definitely or persistently, 
that she would like to be a governess for young children, and has 
already proposed to Selina to let her assume that relation to her 
nephews, a proposal which her sister laughs at and refuses to con- 
sider. She has thought of flight, but as there were "reasons why 



1889.] TALK ABOUT NEW BOOKS. 691 

she could not escape and live in lodgings and paint fans, she 
finally determined to try and be happy in the given circumstances." 
The " given circumstances," bad as they are, are still endurable so 
long as they do not get into the papers. But " if anything were to 
happen publicly I should die, I should die!" she exclaims when 
Lady Davenant tells her that her sister's house is a bad one " for a 
girl- 
Why, at this crisis, Laura does not take the always possible step 
which at the end of the sketch lands her " with distant relatives in 
Virginia," may partly be gathered from the fact chronicled by Mr. 
James that " she wanted to marry, but she wanted also not to want 
it, and, above all, not to appear to." She belongs, in short, to the 
lengthening but not widening series of Mr. James's young women ; 
her circumstances, her entourage, have the peculiarities which gave 
its incisive quality to the remark lately contributed by a witty New- 
Yorker, in the parlors of his club, to the ever-new parallel between 
Mr. Howells and Mr. James. " Henry James," he said, " touches 
good society with the point of his umbrella. As for Howells, he 
began by describing life in second-rate boarding-house parlors. 
Some convulsion of nature swept him into the kitchen, and he con- 
siders it a great realistic movement." 

Mr. Wendover, the artless, honest, wooden American in London, 
belongs to the same species. He is "thin," not only in person but 
in the presentation of him made by Mr. James. His innocence, his 
desire for knowledge, which bears a curious resemblance to Mr. 
Wegg's penchant for "portable property "; his goodness, the quality in 
him which makes him fail to be equal to the situation when Laura, 
in despair at the scandal which she foresees, throws herself at his 
head in order to secure his promise before he knows how her sister 
has compromised them both, all stamp him as ideal material for Mr. 
James. Does he invent his personages or does he copy them? 
Rather than either process in its integrity, does he not poke real 
subjects about gently " with the point of his umbrella " ? He has 
nerves, one would say. The naked subject, the bloody scalpel, the 
hideous mess of the dissecting-table all that is for those butchers 
the surgeons. There is much to be said in favor of such a view of 
the novelist's function, but it is one against which we believe Mr. 
James has recorded one public protest. His art, however, as he has 
settled to the practice of it, has less and less resemblance to anatomy. 
Perhaps picking flowers in a horticultural garden would come nearer 
to a description of it ; there are even moments when one would feel 
inclined to go to a milliner's window for a closer comparison still. 
His specimens are so frail, so tenuous, so ornamental, so bloodless ! 



692 TALK ABOUT NEW BOOKS. [Aug., 

They recall the boy with a hole in his breeches, in one of Dickens' 
short stories, who wished he was " all front," and they suggest that 
in the world beheld by Mr. James that aspiration must have been 
measurably realized by all the inhabitants. One's thought lingers 
less with them than with their collector. It excites a certain mild 
wonder to find a clever man of Mr. James's years so dilettante, so 
amateurish in his attitude toward contemporary life and thought, 
holding himself so neatly and decorously aloof from the questions 
which are filling the minds of most of the rest of us, content to con- 
sider duty chiefly as a matter which, wrongly understood or care- 
lessly practised, may be expected to land offenders against it in the 
dreadful though temporary hell of newspaper notoriety. 

Perhaps as strong a contrast to the methods and ends of Mr. 
James as could be produced at a moment's notice is to be found in 
the next novel on our list, Divorce; or, Faithful and Unfaithful, by 
Margaret Lee, which forms the eleventh issue of Lovell's Interna- 
tional Series. The book, first published in this country in 1883, was 
brought into renewed notice at the end of last year by Mr. Glad- 
stone, who appears to recreate himself with reading the works of 
lady novelists and to reward them for the pleasure they give him by 
straightway puffing them into celebrity in the magazines. Through 
his influence a London edition of Divorce was brought out by the 
Macmillans. As a matter of mere literary workmanship the novel 
hardly counts at all. Its sentences, often childishly ill-constructed, 
are in addition persistently ill-punctuated to a degree which inclines 
one to exonerate wholly the typesetter and professional proof-reader. 
But, having said that, we have no further word of adverse criticism 
to offer. There can be no doubt that Margaret Lee has made a 
study of certain phases of contemporary American life which is 
Trollopean in its abject, literal fidelity. The milieu she has chosen 
is intensely respectable. Her people are rich, but not too rich. 
They mingle in " good ' society and live on the Fifth Avenue, 
though none of them enters that New York empyrean composed of 
the " four hundred ' best families. They are all Christians even 
the villain of the piece " is a member of our church, he is in a good 
business, he sings exquisitely." "Our church " is, presumably, the 
Protestant Episcopalian. There is nowhere throughout the volume 
any attempt made after brilliancy in conversation or what is called 
cleverness in narrative or description. The conversations, neverthe- 
less, have, besides the very great merit of naturalness, that of con- 
tinuously forwarding the progress of the story at the same time that 
they elucidate and bring out character. Take the following, for 
example, which occurs in the first chapter, between the elder mem- 



1 889.] TALK ABOUT NEW BOOKS. 693 

bers of a family in which the marriage is shortly to occur which 
forms the subject of the novel : 



i. 



' Marriage is a lottery, you know, Gus. Con is in love, and I am sure Mr. 
Travers is unexceptionable. What more can you ask ? ' 

" 'I never could agree to that lottery simile,' said Mr. Parker, joining the 
group. ' Marriage is exactly what the two most concerned make*of it, and that 
depends on their conception of what it means. The truth is, Constance is too 
young to marry; much too young.' 

" ' You are right,' said Mr. Lacy, the words sounding emphatic in the midst 
of a chorus of interjectories. 

" ' She is eighteen,' said Mrs. Gus Morgan, who had married at seventeen. 

" 'Yes ; but she is a peculiar girl,' said Mr. Lacy. 

"'Frank is a great man for studying character,' said his wife, her tone 
satirical, her eyes full of admiration. ' He fancies that Con is an unusual speci- 
men of her sex. I think she is just like other girls of eighteen. Of course she 
has no experience, but that may be all the better for her. She cannot draw com- 
parisons to the disadvantage of Mr. Travers, as he is her first and only love. He 
is perfection in her eyes, and he can stay on his pedestal if he wishes, and that 
will insure Con's happiness.' 

"' Stay on the pedestal that a woman with a soul erects? I wonder how 
many of us could do it, even if we bent all our energies to the work ? ' Mr. Lacy 
shook his head. ' There is the whole trouble in a nutshell. Con has no ex- 
perience ; years count for nothing with a temperament like hers. She loves a 
man, she has an ideal, she thinks he fulfils it, and she marries him under that 
illusion. Now, she is going to be a very happy woman or a very wretched one ; 
there will be no medium for her.' . 

"'Oh! well, Frank, you are too sweeping. Mr. Travers maybe all that 
Constance thinks he is. We know very little about him,' said Mrs. Parker. 

"'Exactly; we all profess to love Constance, and we are all about to be 
present at her marriage to a man that we know nothing whatever of. We shall 
" eat, drink, and be merry " over an action that may turn out unfortunately for 
her. She is about to stake everything she has upon it her whole future and 
we are discussing trumpery presents and what we shall wear, and shirking the 
question that is really perplexing us.' . . . 

'"I think that Travers' love for Con is a strong point in his favor,' said Mr. 
Parker. 

" 'If he loves her,' said Mr. Lacy in a curious tone. 

" ' Why, Frank ! What other motive could he have for marrying her? He 
is very attractive, and he knows a number of girls who are much handsomer than 
Con and equally well off. He is one of the eligibles, you must remember,' said 
Belle Morgan. 

" 'A man likes a wife whom he can trust,' Mr. Lacy continued slowly. 

" 'Well, of course,' was the general assent, laughingly given. 

" 'I wish you wouldn't look so seriously at the matter,' said Gus Morgan. 
' We all know what Con is ; she must be happy ; her nature will make her so. 
I suppose God made such natures as hers to renew our failing belief in humanity. 
She is purity itself.' 

" ' Yes; and she attracts her opposites,' said Mr. Lacy. 

'"That may be a wise provision of Providence,' remarked Mr. Parker. 
' She may influence Mr. Travers for his good, supposing his nature to be the 
reverse of hers, a mere supposition, of course, as we know nothing about him. * 



694 TALK ABOUT NEW BOOKS. [Aug., 

" 'But if his nature is so very different from hers, how can he attract her? ' 
asked Alice Morgan, appealing to Mr. Lacy. 

" ' She is too pure to suspect or recognize evil. She judges others by her- 
self,' was the quick answer. ' But the revulsion may come.' 

" 'What would you do with her were she your daughter?' asked Mr. Parker. 

" ' I would surround her with cultivated people ; let her take up the studies 
she enjoys, and give her the opportunities to understand herself, to sound her 
own nature and appreciate its requirements, its positive needs. The girl has 
aspirations that she has never even dreamed of; she has a great, sympathetic 
heart, to be bruised and broken if she falls into the hands of a man who does not 
value her as she deserves.' 

'"You ought to speak to John,' said Mrs. Parker. 

" 'I have spoken to him. He thinks if a girl is going to marry, why the 
younger she is the better are her chances for happiness. She falls into her hus- 
band's ways and adopts his views without hesitation ; she does not assert her own, 
therefore there is no clashing of individualities. It is a good rule for common- 
place people, but for Constance ' Mr. Lacy shook his head and turned away. 

"'Oh, dear! I wish you wouldn't represent the subject so! Girls marry 
every day and they are happy, or at least appear so,' urged Miss Morgan. 'We 
are all so fond of Con that perhaps we overestimate her goodness.' 

"'Our very affection for her proves her worth,' said Mr. Lacy. 'In a 
family as large as that it is rather unusual for one member of it to be the object 
of general esteem. Why, Con seems to belong to each of us personally, and yet 
she has never tried to win one of us. You see, her individuality is strong, you 
feel it in spite of yourself. She cannot be moulded; I doubt that she will ever 
take an impression.' 

" 'Why worry about her, then? She will hold her own,' said Belle Morgan. 

'"Well, in my experience as a lawyer I have met several such women, un- 
happily married. They are bound hand and foot by their vows, their family 
ties, their conscience Mr. Lacy took a tea-rose bud from a dish on the table 
and held it before his sister-in-law as he spoke. ' I could not change the color 
of this flower nor deprive it of its fragrance, but I can crush it under my foot. ' 

" ' O Frank ! you make me shiver. If we women could argue as you do with 
ourselves, not one of us would ever risk the consequences of marriage. ' 

" ' I can tell you that nowadays a woman ought to think before she does take 
any such risks.' 

We call that a conversation natural, unaffected, probable ; owing 
nothing either to flippancy or real wit, and yet interesting, not 
only in virtue of its very ordinary theme, but for the manner 
in which it is conducted. Margaret Lee, had a serious subject 
on her hands, one which she was entirely competent to deal 
with, but in the treatment of which she entirely subordinated 
herself to her achievement. Marriage in America, as it affects 
or may affect even the purest, the most high-minded and honorable 
of either party to it, at the option of the other, is the most serious 
of our public interests. The author of this novel has taken it 
by its most manageable side. She introduces no complications 
brought about by ante-nuptial jealousy, mercenary motives, or 
conscious mismating on either side. Constance, while a most 



1889.] TALK ABOUT NEW BOOKS. 695 

charming character, deserving more than all that is said of her 
by the admiring family group into which the reader has just 
been introduced, is yet not so rare a type that most women who 
read about her will not be able to produce at least one mate to her 
from their own circle. On a solid foundation of the virtues natural 
to the elite of her sex, purity, sincerity, lovingness, there has been 
reared a solid superstructure of the supernatural virtues which be- 
long to Christianity. Her faith is as real a part of her total equip- 
ment as her modesty or her physical beauty. She marries a man 
whom she wholly admires, and loves intensely and unselfishly. He 
gives her in return the highest feelings of which he is capable. 
Even in betraying her confidence, in squandering her fortune, in 
descending at the last to vulgar brutality and the long deceit in- 
volved in getting a " Connecticut divorce" from her, he never loses 
his consciousness of her superiority nor his absolute trust in her 
undying love for him. What he does is simply to live out his own 
nature, as she does hers. When he comes, as in the course of life 
we all do come, to the touchstones which try our quality, his shows 
for the base metal that it is. In the long run, though divorce were 
unprocurable by any process of law, he must in the end have been 
so far stripped of his veneer that even the faithful eyes of his wife 
would have seen him in his true aspect. We suppose, however, that 
the point aimed at by Margaret Lee was to bring into sharp relief 
the utter helplessness of either man or woman to protect name, 
home, and honor from a partner who can so securely assail them 
under the cover of our existing laws. She has done this in a manner 
admirable for its simplicity, and all the more effective by reason of 
the entire absence of any effort to intensify natural situations. 

Mrs. Mona Caird attacks the marriage question from a point 
diametrically opposed to that of Margaret Lee. Mr. Gladstone 
remarks that it " seems indisputable that America is the arena on 
which many of the problems connected with the marriage state are 
in course of being rapidly, painfully, and perilously tried out" In 
so far as those problems are complicated by the entrance of the 
factor which is sometimes described as spontaneity and sometimes 
as lawlessness, according as the immediate results of it happen to 
strike the observer ; by carelessness or even ignorance of convention,, 
and by almost entire freedom from tradition, the remark is very just. 
But there are certain aspects of the marriage question which are 
almost shut out of consideration here by those very causes, though 
they seem fruitful enough, not only for the novelists of ''effete 
Europe," but for its divorce courts. Such an aspect of it, for ex- 
ample, as supplies plot and motive for the second translation from 



696 TALK ABOUT NEW BOOKS. [Aug., 

the German of W. Heimburg which we have received this year from 
Worthington & Co. (New York). The book is called Two Daughters 
of One Race, and it is so Englished by Mrs. D. M. Lowrey as to be 
pleasantly readable. It would offer no point for comment, however, 
except incidentally, in connection with the divorce question. One of 
the two sisters whose love affairs are dealt with, marries, clandes- 
tinely but legally, a German prince, just before the breaking out of 
the Franco-Prussian war. Prince Otto is a younger son and much 
beloved. The marriage, which would have been prevented if pos- 
sible, is on the point of being acknowledged by his parents, and the 
young wife, whose husband, with his brother the heir-presumptive, 
is at the war, has been summoned to meet his mother. Unfor- 
tunately for the continuance of this desirable state of affairs, the heir 
is killed at Gravelotte. Prince Otto's wife, who might be put up 
with in a younger son, is too far inferior in social station for the 
new position, and in spite of their mutual love and Lotta's desperate 
struggle to retain her wifely rights, she is quietly set aside, and Otto 
takes another spouse. Here marriage is a comparatively simple 
affair. Viewed from the standpoint of Protestantism and caste, it 
becomes so secondary a matter that the hardship involved to the 
wife by the dissolution of it strikes the world about her as not 
greater than the general hardship which would be involved in its 
continued and approved existence. 

Then, again, America gives little sign of affording a solution for 
such aspects of the problem as Mrs. Caird brings up in The Wing 
of Azrael (New York: Frank F. Lovell & Co.) Mrs. Caird has 
won some unpleasant notoriety by plainly stating, in a high-class 
English periodical, not in her capacity as a novelist but as an es- 
sayist over her own signature, her conviction that marriage is a 
failure, and that some more elastic and commodious substitute for it 
must be imperatively demanded by the coming man and woman. 
But when she wrote the novel before us, we observe that she pro- 
vided the woman of to-day whose very dismal story she relates, 
with such an equipment of natural character, unhealthy training, 
abnormal situation in space, if one may so describe the gruesome, 
uncanny, and unwholesome character of her physical "environment," 
besides handicapping her into the bargain with such monstrous 
weights in the shape of a brutal father and a viciously ill-disposed 
husband, for whom she has never had or professed to have anything 
but an invincible aversion, that the author's quarrel with marriage on 
such grounds becomes a mere begging of the question. The novel- 
reader, whether he goes to Thackeray for evidence or to Mrs. Caird, 
is obliged to believe that in England daughters may still be sold by 



1889.] WITH READERS AND CORRESPONDENTS. 697 

their parents to men whom they abhor and loathe, and that society 
pays the penalty therefor in elopements, suicides, murders, and 
divorces. The testimony has one general tendency, but the volun- 
teer witnesses, who are likewise the self-appointed judges, show a 
great diversity as well as breadth of view in their decisions. Mrs. 
Caird would like to get rid of Christian training as well as of Chris- 
tian marriage ; but she is an extremist. One would be glad to see 
grounds for hoping that the incessant tendency of the novels of all 
nations to force into prominence the miseries that await ill-assorted 
marriages would end by producing the only conceivable good effect 
of which they seem even remotely capable. If they could succeed 
in frightening " those about to marry ' into the persuasion that 
nothing less than a strong, mutual love justifies or excuses marriage, 
the effect would be most salutary, whatever one might think of the 
means. It was the persistence with which Anthony Trollope 
pouaded on that string which endeared and endears him to so many 
grateful readers. It is the only healthy view to take of that indis- 
soluble bond, that sacrament of which the recipients are, at the same 
time, the ministers. 



WITH READERS AND CORRESPONDENTS. 

A HANDMAIDEN IN CHAINS. 

The Catholic Church, in fulfilling the end of her being, appeals to the 
whole nature of man, both the corporeal and spiritual side. Therefore she 
speaks to the heart of man not only through the intellect, but also through the 
senses ; using and fostering everything that is honest, appropriating and assimi- 
lating it, no matter from what source it may have sprung, if it will aid her in 
drawing men to the love of God. From the first she made the fine arts hand- 
maidens in the household of faith, on one hand protecting them from the bland- 
ishments of human pride and the invasions of the flesh by giving them a right 
and noble intention : ad majorem Dei gloriam; on the other hand she called the 
faithful to a love of their works a love of the beautiful, using this love of beauty 
to lead souls to the contemplation of the eternal beauty of Go.d. 

The church declared that art can have a far higher end than the mere grati- 
fication of our cultivated senses ; that it can be used to advance man in the paths 
of spirituality,, lifting the soul to highest aspirations ; also to give expression to 
the noblest emotions of the heart, the external manifestation of its sorrows, joys, 
and hopes. At the same time she demonstrated that art is not a realm reserved 
for the select few, the rich, the highly educated, and the connoisseur, but is open 
to all that it is the Biblia pauperum, teaching the poor and the ignorant the 
true philosophy of life and the beauty of faith. The church in calling forth 
Christian art plastic, pictorial, constructive, and musical not only called fort! 
the highest external and material expression of man's love for his Creator, but 
also the most sublime material offering the talents of the creature could possibly 



698 WITH READERS AND CORRESPONDENTS. [Aug., 

render to his Maker. But Christian art, like everything the church has smiled 
upon, has excited the hatred of Satan ; he has attempted to either destroy it 
through iconoclastic heresies or pervert it by paganizing its expression. The 
powers of evil having failed in this, they are now attacking it with two new 
weapons ; one a sensuous realism acccompanied with a total disregard of all tra- 
ditional symbolism ; and the other, by far the more dangerous of the two, the 
commercial spirit, the spirit of money-getting. 

Of course I do not refer to all dealers in church goods ; but there certainly is a 
kind of tradesman, eager for gold and made impertinent by his boundless ignor- 
ance, who has walked into the very sanctuary, pushing the Christian artist to one 
side, ignoring the laws of the church, and boldly offering something which he 
calls art, and so cheap that "you cannot refuse to buy." What is the conse- 
quence ? Money too often squandered on glittering hideosities, our churches 
rilled with inartistic objects and hung with pictures so bad that we would not 
admit them to the walls of our homes ; candlesticks and vases placed upon our 
altars which would be excluded from the parlor mantel as cheap and common ; 
ill-formed, ill-made, and ill-fitting vestments of imitation and flimsy silk worn 
by our clergy ; vulgarity and tawdriness all too often prevailing. How long 
is this kind of thing to last ? I believe its days are numbered, and we are already 
on the threshold of a revival of ecclesiastical art. 

One of the delights in visiting churches in Catholic countries is the study of the 
various expressions of devotion and love portrayed by the faithful in the decoration 
and furnishing of God's house. But with us what food is there to satisfy the artistic 
sense of a cultivated mind ? The instrumenta ecclesiastica in St. Matthew's are 
identical with those in St. Mark's, St. Luke's, and a hundred other churches, all 
equally as bad, and all the children of commerce, not of faith. Have we nothing 
better to offer ? Is the love of the beautiful dead among us, or only asleep ? 
Who will believe that the spirit of the age has blinded us so far that we no 
longer perceive the intimate connection of the fine arts with religion ? I am 
answered that we are too poor to embellish our churches in accordance with the 
true principles of ecclesiastical art. What has that to do with it? Good art is 
only good design and good taste, and costs no more than bad art, bad taste, and 
bad design. Many of the most beautiful monuments of Catholic piety were 
built by the voluntary contributions of the poor, not the rich ; witness the 
cathedral of Rheims and the baptistery at Pisa. Indeed, it is idle babble for us to 
plead poverty and at the same time talk about our love of God, our great 
devotion to the Blessed Sacrament, so long as we give so much for the adorn- 
ment of our houses and persons, and so little for the artistic ornamentation of 
the sanctuary. Will we ever return to simplicity and truth ? Will we once 
again learn to appreciate and love the beauties of Christian art ? Is there no 
way of rousing the interest of the faithful so there may be born within them a 
zeal for the enrichment of all that pertains to the building, furniture, and cere- 
monies of the church ? I believe there is. And it is my purpose in this paper 
to point out a way by which at least one of the handmaidens may be eman- 
cipated from the ignominious chains placed upon her fair limbs by the greed 
of the tradesman. 

Every year numbers of young Catholic women skilled in ornamental needle- 
work come out of our conventual schools only to waste their knowledge upon 
useless knick-knacks that come under the general head of fancy-work. To 
embroider a vestment or prepare linens for the altar seldom enters their minds. 
In the days of old, when " embroidery was the fostering auxiliary of outward 
impressiveness in the ceremonials of the church," it was the delight, pride, and 



1889.] WITH READERS AND CORRESPONDENTS. 699 

pleasure of Catholic ladies to devote their money and time to the embroidering 
of sacerdotal garments as grateful offerings to God. Their hours of recreation 
were hours of innocent work, resulting in material and artistic gain to the 
church and spiritual benefit to themselves. Here is a picture, taken frbm an 
old chronicle, of a faithful woman the mulier fortis of Catholic times, "the 
woman of great aims, of large charities, of ardent faith ; sweet in words, mighty 
in works." We are told of one Jane Dormer that, " in such curioits works of the 
needle as gentlewomen learn, she attained a marvellous skill and perfection, her 
works were sumptuous and precious, wrought for God's service and the use of the 
church. After, that her sight was not so good to work curious works, she passed 
her tune in reading devout and spiritual books or employed her labor to work for 
the poor" 

" She wrought so well in needle-work that shee, 
Nor yet her workes, shall ere forgotten be." 

This was a woman living in the world, a noble wife and a wise mother, yet she 
found time not only to fulfil every duty of her state but also to say the Office 
of Our Lady and hear Mass every day, and to make many vestments resplendent 
with beauteous needle-work. Even queens did not disdain to employ their time 
in needle-work for the church. The beautiful chasuble of red satin, bearing the 
figures of our Lord, St. Peter, and St. Paul worked with threads of gold, and 
worn by Pope Leo IX. at the consecration of the abbey church of St. Arnold, 
near Metz, October 5, 1049, was wrought by the fair hands of Gisela, wife of 
Stephen, King of Hungary. 

Can it be that our women are less devoted to Holy Church than their pious 
sisters of the ages of faith ? I, for one, will not believe it. The truth is, their 
education in needlework has never been given an ecclesiastical turn, and they 
have been taught to look upon embroidery as only an elegant accomplishment 
with which to while away an idle moment. Direct their attention to the subject, 
form them into needle-work guilds, give them good designs to follow, instruct 
them in the laws of the church governing the form, color, and symbolism of her 
vestments, and it can be safely prophesied that our churches in the future will 
be as rich, in beautiful embroidered copes, chasubles, dalmatics, mitres, and 
altar-cloths as those of Catholic Europe. This is not a mere theory of the 
writer. A clergyman of one of our East-side churches, feeling the time had 
come to make a step toward reviving the noble art of ecclesiastical embroidery 
among our Catholic women, formed some time ago a guild on the above plan, 
and it has proved to be a marked success. He found a number of ladies in his 
congregation ready to work, ready to learn, and glad to find they could use their 
needles for the honor of God. He placed before them good examples to 
imitate and designs to follow ; he stimulated their zeal by offering prizes for the 
best work turned out during the year, and by giving each one something to do 
that was within the compass of her skill. And they have already learned to love 
the needle's excellency, and find this incomparable little instrument always 
willing to translate with variety of stitches designs which shall ornament a 
textile to be used in God's holy service. 

Their wise director, not forgetting that he is their spiritual father, has spoken 
to them in the words of -Cennini : " Ye of gentle spirit, who are lovers of this 
art and devoted to its pursuit, adorn yourselves with the garments of love, of 
modesty, of obedience, and of perseverance " ; at the same time he has begged 
them to put far from their minds the hurtful spirit of the age, the desire to 
produce the largest results at the least cost, but each one shall say to herself, 
" Neither will I offer unto the Lord my God that which does cost me nothing." 
VOL. XLIX. 45 



7oo WITH READERS AND CORRESPONDENTS. [Aug., 

I trust that the foregoing remarks will help, if only a little, to revive among 
us the long-neglected traditions of church embroidery, and encourage every 
educated Catholic needle-woman that may chance to read my words to use her 
skill in the adornment of sacerdotal vestments in accordance with the true 
principles of Christian art. In this connection, it is well for our clergy to 
remember that art not only " requires patronage, but, still more, sympathy." 

CARYL COLEMAN. 



THE COLUMBIAN READING UNION. 

ALL COMMUNICATIONS RELATING TO READING CIRCLES, LISTS OF BOOKS, ETC., SHOULD 
BE ADDRESSED TO THE COLUMBIAN READING UNION, NO. 415 WEST FIFTY-NINTH 
STREET, NEW YORK CITY. 

The article by Brother Azarias on " Books and How to Use Them," pub- 
lished in the July CATHOLIC WORLD, has been very widely noticed. One of 
our exchanges suggests that "the Reading Circles already or about to be 
formed might profitably initiate their meetings with the reading aloud of this 
particular essay without skipping from beginning to end." This suggestion 
is well worthy the attention of all the readers of these pages. Many of the 
questions constantly asked by our correspondents are fully answered in choice 
language by Brother Azarias. 

We sincerely hope that all our readers have had the opportunity to peruse 
these books, which should be in every Catholic family and in every library, viz. : 
Patron Saints, Pilgrims and Shrines, and Songs of a Life-time, written by the 
distinguished authoress whose name is appended to the following letter : 

" I am greatly pleased with the first division of the list for the Columbian 
Reading Union, which allows no one to complain who asks for entertainment 
merely, while the serious student finds the historical novel tolling him on to 
researches worthy of a scholar. The arrangement is admirable, leaving each 
one to be 'drawn,' as St. Augustine says, 'by his own special pleasure,' while 
it suggests, prompts even, to that higher attraction of which the same great 
doctor says : ' What stronger object of love can a soul have than the truth ?' 
"299 Huron Street, Chicago, III. ELIZA ALLEN STARR." 

Numerous inquiries have been made in regard to the practical details of 
managing a Reading Circle. It is obviously impossible to write a long letter to 
each inquirer. The better plan is to have a general answer given from time to 
time by some one well qualified for the task. Hence, if there is delay, our 
correspondents should not become impatient. We have no salaried official 
connected with the Columbian Reading Union. All the work done thus far 
and it has consumed many valuable hours has been performed as a labor of love, 
gratuitously. The interesting and suggestive address delivered at the closing 
meeting of the Ozanam Reading Circle, by its president, Miss Mary F. McAleer, 
will give to many others information which they have desired. We gladly give 
space to all communications of this kind based on practical results already 
accomplished : 

" Friends have frequently asked why our society is called the Ozanam Read- 
ing Circle. An answer to that question may be of interest on this occasion. 
As one of the members will read a sketch of Frederic Ozanam, it is only 
necessary now to say that he was a great Catholic layman, who consecrated his 
intellect, his heart and soul to the cause of the church. For this reason it was 



1889.] WITH READERS AND CORRESPONDENTS. 701 

deemed well for a circle of Catholic women to organize themselves under a name 
well calculated to inspire those sentiments of courage and enthusiasm necessary 
to carry on the work of self-improvement. 

" Our Reading Circle has completed its third year, and its members rejoice 
in an association which has been both profitable and enjoyable. Our intercourse 
has been pleasant and instructive, and we certainly have made intellectual pro- 
gress. A description of a meeting may give some idea of the work done in the 
Circle. 

"We have been accustomed to meet every Monday night at eight o'clock. 
The exercises begin with the reading of the minutes of the previous meeting. 
These minutes are not presented in tabular form, but are rather a description of 
what part each member had in the proceedings. This is followed by quotations 
given by all the members. These are not selected from books of familiar 
quotations, but are rather good, wholesome thoughts that impress the members 
in the course of their readings ; an entire evening has often been devoted to one 
Catholic author. This exercise ended, the rest of the time is devoted to recita- 
tions and readings. The latter are not given merely for the sake of elocutionary 
effect alone. The readings are selected from a literary standpoint: hence 
standard periodicals are frequently consulted. For instance, every month at 
least one selection from THE CATHOLIC WORLD is rendered. The members 
subscribe to this magazine and circulate it weekly, so that each member in turn 
is supplied with a copy. 

"We have tried to get every month one or two original writings. These have 
taken the form of letters to the Circle, essays, and reviews of popular books, or, to 
put it more modestly, our impressions of particular works. One of the letters 
gave an account of an actual experience in a Brooklyn hospital, and another, a 
description of mountain scenery. The list of essays included one on Robert Em- 
met and two on St. Patrick, viewed as a religious and as an historical character. 
Two novels from the pen of Rev. J. Talbot Smith, the editor of the Catholic Re- 
view, furnished topics for other papers. Another essay attempted to prove the 
utility of psychology in education. We also discussed the ' Relative Happiness to 
be Obtained from Education and Wealth,' and ' How to Prevent Indiscriminate 
Charity. ' An original story was given as a Christmas contribution. Sometimes 
the whole time of the meeting has been devoted to one special subject. Thus we 
have had Shakspere, Longfellow, and St. Patrick nights. All our efforts have 
tended in some way to acquaint ourselves with Catholic history and Catholic 
literature. 

" The evening's work ends with a criticism from a competent instructor, who 
gives such information on elocution and delivery as our selections demand. And 
here it becomes necessary for me to say we have never aimed at becoming pro- 
fessional readers ; on the contrary, our instructor, Mr. A. Young, has always in- 
sisted on expression chiefly as a means of bringing out the spirit and thought of 
a selection. On this occasion we mean to give a specimen of our ordinary meet- 
ing, so that you, our friends, may enter with us into the exercises, and criticise 
not the manner but the matter of our work. 

"We have enjoyed together many pleasant and social hours. This has 
been made possible by many kindnesses from the Paulist Fathers, to whom we are 
much indebted, particularly to our Rev. Director, through whom we obtained the 
pleasant room in which we have held our weekly meetings, the use of the paro- 
chial library, and various other favors. With his help we hope to do better 
things in the future. 

"Now that THE CATHOLIC WORLD has become interested in Reading 



7O2 WITH READERS AND CORRESPONDENTS. [Aug., 

Circles and has started a department on the subject, the members of the Ozanam 
are more encouraged in their efforts and look forward to an increased member- 
ship and a diffusion of Reading Circles throughout the country." 



As showing how our members may utilize opportunities, even when mak- 
ing social visits, we quote from a letter written while at a town in a Western 
State : 

" I have just had a most charming conversation with Sister-Superioress - 
of the English parish school, really in a thriving condition. She is intensely and 
practically interested in Reading Circles, and had already called a meeting among 
the young ladies to adopt some rule in accord with those to be suggested by the 
Columbian Reading Union. So you see how its influence is already extending in 
unexpected places, and ' lets God's sunlight shine where it never shone before. ' 

" This religious is a very superior woman and has a great influence among a 
large class. She understands their needs and difficulties, and extends a very 
warm sympathy to those whose life is void of brightness, and I think she has the 
faculty of showing them that shadows die oftenest in the sunlight. 

"She is heart and soul interested in the plan, and has long since worked 
with this object in view, but each effort failed of prolonged success. Yet not dis- 
couraged, new efforts replaced the old ones. The ' Union ' is going to aid just 
such workers. It will give authority for all they do. I really enjoyed my visit ; 
it was quite a stimulus. They have an excellent parish library and the books 
are used. The Catholics have a right good spirit, too, and a most zealous 
pastor. 

"The town has many elements growing apart, side by side, the society 
people, the university clique, and the Catholics. They affect one another with- 
out exactly mingling, yet the friction is observable. It is pitiful to see people 
live together with such diverging interests and aims. It seems very marked here. 
In other places pleasure is a rallying point, and opposing forces are obscured. 
The Catholics must come' in contact with the other classes, and to sustain their 
proper place should be fully equipped. They must reach a certain intellectual 
standard to command attention, but many claim they have not the time. It is 
partly true ; still I find they have more time than inclination, and some need of 
immediate suggestion, too." 

According to the prospectus already published, though not yet sufficiently 
understood, no class from the lowest to the highest in society will be excluded 
from the advantages which can be secured by the Columbian Reading Union. 
We want to reach those who are in the greatest need, and to do so with the 
motive of performing a spiritual work of mercy. For those having but little time 
to read, and but little money to spend for books, judicious advice is most neces- 
sary. This department of the work assumes gigantic proportions when we think 
of the vast number dependent for their supply of books on public libraries. 
Our attention has been forcibly drawn to this matter by this letter : 

" Being a member of the Mechanics' and Tradesmen's Library of New York 
City, I recently desired to obtain some Catholic books, but was surprised to find 
that although the writers of other denominations are represented to a large ex- 
tent, the number of Catholic works to be found on its shelves is comparatively 
few, and those unimportant. But still worse is the fact that there are many 
works which, through their titles, recommend themselves to the unwary Catholic 
student, but which in reality are the production of Protestant writers, who not 
only omit all passages bearing on Catholic doctrine, but endeavor to pervert 
their original meaning. 



1889.] WITH READERS AND CORRESPONDENTS. 703 

' With a view to remedy this wrong, I trust the Columbian Reading Union 

will interest itself in the matter, and lay before the library committee the special 

nducements which they offer towards supplying libraries with sound Catholic 

literature. In this manner I am certain they will secure a large representation 

of the works which every Catholic and Protestant should read. T. J. C." 

Without intending any injustice, we venture to repeat what has been often 
asserted before in these columns, that Catholic literature is almost completely ex- 
cluded from the public libraries. It is high time to ask the reason why. This 
is a question which should be promptly brought to the front. We appeal to the 
mechanics and tradesmen of New York City to assist this young man and hun- 
dreds of others like him to get the choice books of Catholic writers from the 
library designated in his letter, and also from the Apprentices' Library, not to 
mention the various branches of the Free Circulating Library. 

The editor of the Catholic Sentinel, Mr. M. G. Munly, has kindly forwarded 
a marked copy of his paper containing a powerful editorial in favor of our work. 
4is testimony shows the condition of things in Oregon and the adjacent country. 
We quote it as another strong endorsement of our plan : 



"AN EDUCATIONAL SOCIETY. 



Several months ago we published from THE CATHOLIC WORLD magazine 
an announcement of a project for the establishment of a Catholic Reading Circle 
similar to the St. Anselm Society in England, or the Chautauqua Society in this 
country. The advantage and necessity for such a society for our Catholic young 
people were set forth in that article. 

'During the intervening time the projectors of this scheme have been in cor- 
respondence with ladies and gentlemen of education, experience, and literary 
tastes, receiving suggestions and discussing the merits of various plans ; and the 
result has been the formation of the Columbian Reading Union, the prospectus of 
which is published on another page. In western communities Catholic books are 
not to be had in the largest' book-stores, are never found in the public libraries, 
and Catholic libraries are nothing to speak of. Catholic books are not advertised 
like the sensational novel, and a Catholic book-store cannot exist outside of a 
4arge city. Is it strange, then, that Catholic literature should languish and that 
the young generation of Catholics growing up outside of Catholic schools are 
ignorant of the extent, value, and excellence of purely Catholic writings ? There 
is absolutely no guidance for Catholics in the selection of sound and wholesome 
reading outside of the Catholic press, and the Catholic press reaches but a frac- 
tion of the Catholic population. Is it any wonder, then, that we find the works 
of ' Ouida ' and Amelie Rives, and even Zola, on the centre-table of the Catholic 
home instead of those of Catholic writers ? 

" The establishment of the Columbian Reading Union, which extends the 
advantage of membership to North, South, East, and, West, which safely guides 
the taste and furnishes matter at a minimum of trouble and expense for the 
Catholic reading public, is an event of real importance. The church sodalities, 
the Catholic Knights, and the Institutes should all establish Reading Circles. 
Every pastor should .put himself in communication with the Columbian Reading 
Union. It is an educational society which should be encouraged by parents, 
pastors, and teachers everywhere." 

We shall be indebted to other editors who will send marked copies of their 
papers with notices of Reading Circles, etc. A lengthy communication from 



704 WITH READERS AND CORRESPONDENTS. [Aug., 

Youngstown, Ohio, informs us that at a meeting of representative Catholics the 
Catholic Educational Union was recently organized, "with the advice and ap- 
proval of many prominent clergymen who have the interests of Catholic education 
at heart." Among other good works mentioned, this new society proposes to direct 
attention to the " text-books of modern history found in many Catholic homes, 
and in all public libraries, written for the express purpose of justifying the so- 
called Reformation. To counteract this evil there can be no more influential 
agent than the Catholic Educational Union." The projectors make no mistake 
in expecting much labor and expense and many difficulties, especially if they 
undertake to start a magazine, as is proposed. 

For the present we would suggest that the Catholic Educational Union con- 
centrate energy on making a thorough examination of the best modern histories, 
and then, by publishing the results of this investigation, a definite first step would 
be taken in the right direction. The Columbian Reading Union would gladly re- 
ceive such a list of historical books, and would endeavor to give it a wide circula- 
tion. We desire to establish friendly relations with all organizations devoted to 
the work of diffusing good literature. Each one can render valuable service in 
proportion to the zeal of its members and the wealth at their command. Our 
greatest need just now is to make known far and wide the good news that in 
many cities and villages, including Youngstown and New York, the movement 
has begun with evident signs of vitality. For the future results much will depend 
on those who will give their time without compensation to prepare suitable lists 
of accessible books, and on those who will make generous contributions towards 
the payment of the necessary expenses. M. C. M. 



THE TEMPERANCE OUTLOOK.* 



From past experience we have learned to suspect the accuracy of the infor- 
mation furnished in many of the books and pamphlets published by the National 
Temperance Society. It has sent forth many volumes bearing on Scriptural 
testimony to the use of wine which have been condemned, not by the Inquisition, 
but by the most profound Biblical scholars of all denominations in the United 
States. We regret very much that the liberal donations of the late William E. 
Dodge and others have been expended in giving permanent and prominent 
recognition to the unwise agitation of prohibitionists. 

It must, however, be said that though it has lent its aid to the dissemination 
of erroneous opinions on certain aspects of the temperance movement, much 
can be claimed for the positive good work done by the National Temperance 
Society during the twenty-four years of its existence. According to the state- 
ment of its plan prepared for the International Temperance Congress in 
September, 1888, "it is non-sectarian and non-partisan, having in its member- 
ship and among its managers representatives of all the leading denominations 
and of all political parties.. It publishes an extended list of books, pamphlets, 
tracts, and leaflets by the million." 

From the report before us we quote a passage to show what value is attached 
to the educational and missionary work which can be done only by the circula- 
tion of literature : 

"At the organization of the National Temperance Society and Publication House the 
following was declared to be its object : 

" ' The object shall be to promote the cause of total abstinence from the use, manufacture, and sale of all 

* Twenty-fourth Annual Report of the National Temperance Society and. Publication House, t 
58 Reade Street, New York. 



.] WITH READERS AND CORRESPONDENTS. 705 

intoxicating drinks as a beverage. This shall be done by the publication and circulation of temperance 
literature, by the use of the pledge, and by all other methods calculated to remove the evil of intemperance 
from the community.' 

' There were temperance societies all over the country, but no temperance literature worthy 
of the name. A few miscellaneous tracts and half a dozen small books comprised its entire in- 
ventory. The work of securing good writers was a most difficult one. Large offers of prizes 
were made, but the responses were few and the efforts feeble. The first years were entirely 
spent in endeavoring to secure a better and higher class of publications. The results as seen 
to-day are most satisfactory. We have over three hundred first-class writers, seventeen hun- 
dred and fifty-six different publications, and have printed over seven hundred and fifty million 
pages. We have spent $130,000 in copyright, literary labor, stereotyping, and engraving 
during the twenty-four years of our existence, and received over a million of dollars for 
publications. 

" The educational work of these hundreds of millions of pages, which have been scattered 
all over the land and in other countries, cannot be estimated. The awakening conscience of 
the nation testifies to its good influence. The extension and growth of the publication depart- 
ment naturally and inevitably led to the development of a missionary work which was taken up 
and pushed to the extent of our ability." 

The Rev. Dr. Daniel Dorchester, who has been recently appointed inspector 
of Indian schools, is mentioned in the report as the writer responsible for this 
statement : 

' ' I have directly learned from the very best authority that a distillery firm within three 
miles of the Massachusetts State-House has a contract to furnish three thousand gallons of rum 
daily to the African trade for the next seven years. This would be equivalent to almost one 
million gallons annually. My interest in Christian missions in Africa and in the proposed 
constitutional amendment in Massachusetts prohibiting the manufacture and sale of alcoholic 
liquors for beverages led me to investigate the internal revenue reports of the manufacture, 
home consumption, and exportation of rum. This, the most powerful of all the distilled liquors, 
containing fifty per cent, and upward of alcohol, is the only liquor exported from the United 
States to Africa." 

We are confident that his "interest in Christian missions'" will lead Dr. 
Dorchester to exert himself to protect the Indians from the dangers of fire- 
water, and in this work he may rely on the active co-operation of the Catholic 
missionaries, who have prescriptive rights on many of the reservations. From 
his previous declarations on the school question, there is a feeling abroad that he 
will make some undesirable changes in the wise policy adopted by his pre- 
decessors in office ; but he will be unable to secure better or even as efficient 
help against intemperance as that of Catholic missionaries and school teachers. 

A valuable part of the report under consideration is that devoted to a 
synopsis of the recent decisions made by religious bodies on the question of 
temperance. The numerous protests against prohibition which have appeared 
in Catholic papers during the past year, especially in Rhode Island, Massa- 
chusetts, Pennsylvania, and New York, are calmly ignored. One priest in 
Minnesota is quoted against high license. The Pope's letter to Rt. Rev. P. 
T. O'Reilly, Spiritual Director of the Catholic Total Abstinence Union of 
America, is given in full; no mention is made of the declarations against 
prohibition from Cardinal Gibbons and Archbishop Ryan. Considerable space 
is allowed to a notice of the work done by the establishment of the " League of 
the Cross " in Brooklyn. Father O'Hare, of St. Anthony's Church, was actu- 
ated by a martial spirit of enthusiasm when he used these words : 

"The banners of the crusade have been flung to the breeze, and its armies have taken to 
the field to conquer or die fighting in the last ditch. The cause is for God, and God is with his 
hosts in battle array. With the Catholic people who have taken so pronounced and deter- 
mined a stand in the cause of temperance and sobriety there is no such thing as failure, 
bishops have given us the watchword, to do or die, and the priests are at the head of this grand 
movement. With them, I must candidly confess, largely rests the responsibility for the 
extirpation of this great evil, intemperance." 



;o6 NEW PUBLICATIONS. [Aug., 

The National Temperance Society's report carefully avoids any allusion to 
the fact that Father Fransioli, of St. Peter's Church, took particular pains to 
put himself on record as opposed to prohibition. Having mature convictions 
coming from his long years of experience, he organized the " League of the 
Cross " on a basis of Christian hatred of drunkenness, and manages it not only 
with zeal, but with practical common sense, and has the gratification of seeing 
his people give unmistakable evidence that they were ready for the movement. 
At one of the meetings Father Barry, the assistant priest of the parish, delivered 
an address, which we are glad to find quoted at length, as it compares favorably 
with any of the other utterances embodied in the report of the National Temper- 
ance Society. We give some specimen paragraphs : 

"We have from twelve to fifteen thousand nominal Roman Catholics in this parish, the 
area of which is eight blocks long by three blocks broad the largest parish in the diocese. 
Every corner of every block almost is decorated with a rum-shop. There are sixty-five saloons, 
about, and we find that drunkenness is constantly increasing. For every drunkard we reclaim 
the rum-shops make ten new ones. The parish is like a ship with strained timbers. The five 
priests here have been laboring to pump it dry, but the water rushes in faster than ever. Now 
we are going to try to stop the leak. 

" The branches of this tree of intemperance sprout faster than they can be clipped, so the 
only thing to do is to strike at the root. We are like an ambulance corps on a battle-field. 
As fast as we fix one wounded man up ten newly wounded are brought to us from the front. 
What is the use of our work when the bullets are allowed to fly as fast as ever ? We are not 
even holding our own, for, as I said before, drunkenness is on the increase. . . . 

' ' There is no use denying the proposition that saloons produce drunkenness and drunken- 
ness produces crime. Against this state of affairs, therefore, we propose to strive. Of course 
we must necessarily hurt the saloon business, and that may antagonize the saloon-keepers. 
We cannot help that. What we are going to do is to save our people from perdition. This is 
our duty, and we must do it, no matter whom we hurt. We have God on our side and have 
no fear of any forces which may array themselves against us. With God's help we must win. 

" Never in the history of our country has the subject of intemperance received such con- 
sideration as at the present time. Light is now shed on it as never before. Religion and 
philanthropy have thrown their rays upon it and laid bare its depths of iniquity. No intelli- 
gent man has dubious views on the subject. The evidence is clear no clearer if written by an 
angel. There are no faltering words. We know it to be one of the greatest vices with which 
man can be afflicted. Perhaps it has never raged more fiercely than now, arid men are organ- 
ized to combat it." 



NEW PUBLICATIONS. 

THE WORKS OF ST. JOHN OF THE CROSS. The Ascent of Mount Carmel, by 
St. John of the Cross, of the order of Our Lady of Carmel. Translated 
from the Spanish, with a life of the Saint, by David Lewis, M.A. Second 
edition, revised. London : Thomas Baker. (For sale by Benziger 
Brothers, New York, Cincinnati, and Chicago.) 

We have long looked for this new edition of St. John of the Cross. The 
first edition, published by the Longmans in 1864, has been out of print for 
several years and had become hard to get. The work, of course, does not reach 
the whole book-market, and yet those who do want it find it indispensable. It is 
the foremost authority of the literature of modern mysticism. St. John was a 
theologian of excellent studies, which were assimilated by a well-ordered intelli- 
gence and supplemented by sufficient experience in the active ministry. This 
has given him peculiar value as an interpreter of the ways of God in the interior 
life. He is not subject to errors of expression. He tells of the divine union of 
the soul in mystical states in terms familiar to instructed Christians, and the only 
mystery about his writings is the mystery inherent in his topics. The use of 



1889.] NE w PUBLIC A TIONS. 



707 



correct terminology does not make altogether intelligible what eye hath not seen, 
ear hath not heard, nor the heart of man conceived. But whatever can be 
expressed, St. John expresses accurately and in the conventional language of 
Catholic usage. With many other mystics one must often affirm that the doc- 
trine is sound because the teacher is saintly ; in the case of St. John an intelligent 
reader knows that he is safe in following him, because he is a leader who points 
to the milestones of well-ascertained dogma. 

This volume, the first of the new edition, contains the life of the saint by 
Mr. Lewis published long after the Longmans' edition of his work as well as 
the treatise on the Ascent of Mount Carmel; this latter was the first volume of 
that edition. The second volume will give us, we presume, the Spiritual Canticle 
between the Soul and Christ, and the poems. If it is intended to altogether 
leave out Cardinal Wiseman's learned and judicious introduction to the original 
edition, we cannot help recording our sincere regret. 

The volume before us is of extreme interest to all classes of Catholic readers 
on account of the life which forms the first part of it. There never was a' ro- 
mance of more absorbing interest than the life of Juan de Yepes, known to the 
world as St. John of the Cross. It is the story of one led by the high paths of 
contemplative prayer up the mountain of God till he is ravished from our gaze 
into the clouds of heaven. But what a journey it was ! What noble aspirations, 
what courageous assaults upon the appetites, what serene composure amidst per- 
secutions and adversities, what marvels of divine interference with the ordinary 
ways of nature and of grace ! Meantime, all this is about a man who by nature 
was extremely lovable ; a man as open as the day, simple, truthful, kindly, but 
especially courageous. We cannot help thinking many of his supernatural gifts 
were at least foreshadowed by a strong natural tendency to seek the deep wisdom 
of God in the common things of life, allied to that species of duality of soul dis- 
tinctively characteristic of the mystical temperament and not wholly wanting in 
unassisted nature itself. 

The Ascent of Mount Carmel, given with the life in the present volume, is a 
very plain statement of all the mystical states of prayer, preceded by an exceed- 
ingly valuable resume of the ascetic methods which commonly go before. All 
who love God fervently may read every word in this volume with intelligent 
pleasure. The volume to come will contain what is more mystical, put into the 
form of verse or of poetical prose. But the Ascent of Carmel is plain walking 
along the highroad of all fervent pilgrims. To think that St. John of the Cross 
is of use only to the heroic few is a delusion. All that he has written may be 
read with profit and pleasure ; but what is contained in this volume is suited to 
every class of souls who have made up their minds to live by the instinct of the 
Holy Spirit. He begins his treatise with the keeping of the Commandments, 
and ends with ecstatic union of the soul and God. But he is everywhere plain, 
and is always soundly orthodox in substance and form. 

To confessors this reprint will be a boon. All who hold the office of spiritual 
adviser of souls should have St. John of the Cross and should read him atten- 
tively. No mistake could be greater than to think that the knowledge of the 
elements of mystical theology belongs to specialists. Religious men and women 
are continually in need of the direction of confessors who, if not by experience, 
at least by study, know the more secret ways of God with souls ; and this is true 
not only of those who live in community, but of very many who live in the 
world. Nor is it difficult to acquire such knowledge ; no more is needed than a 
fair application to such a treatise as the Ascent of Mount Carmel. Schram, 
Scaramelli (Directorium Mysticum}, St. Teresa, Sancta Sophia, Hilton, Lalla- 



708 NEW PUBLICATIONS. [Aug., 

mant, Surin, and others are all excellent, but St. John of the Cross is undoubt- 
edly the best. 

As to the merits of Mr. Lewis's translation, it is hardly too much to say that 
he has done his work perfectly. The life is his own, and is a model of sim- 
plicity of style coupled with a fervor and unction worthy of the theme. 

LIVES OF THE FATHERS. SKETCHES OF CHURCH HISTORY IN BIOGRAPHY. 
By Frederick W. Farrar, D.D., F.R.S., late Fellow of Trinity College, 
Cambridge, Archdeacon of Westminster, Chaplain in Ordinary to the Queen. 
Two vols. New York : Macmillan & Co. 

The name of Father, consecrated to the unique dignity of God's vicegerent 
in the family, is applied in an historical sense to the most conspicuous witnesses 
of the faith of Christ during the first twelve centuries of the Christian era. The 
men who are known as the Fathers of the Church were the most eminent teachers 
of the orthodox and universal doctrine of Christ. In a loose sense the term 
-applies to such writers as Tertullian, who became an apostate, and to a few others 
of evident or suspected heterodoxy, but whose writings contain valuable affirma- 
tions of the truth. But in the stricter sense the Fathers of the Church are only 
those ancient writers whose soundness of doctrine is unimpeachable, whose works 
are of signal excellence, and whose holiness of life is acknowledged. 

These personages are to the intelligent Christian the great witnesses of 
divine revelation. Not many of them were the occupants of the See of Peter, 
and taught the world by the highest divine right ; but most of them were bishops 
and taught by divine right in union with the Apostolic See, and all of them were 
elect souls whom Providence invested with the wisdom of the Holy Spirit and to 
whom popes and bishops looked for guidance. 

The Fathers of the Church are an exemplification of the test "by their fruits 
you shall know them," applying that test to the faith of Christians. They show 
us what was the faith in their day. They are the chosen witnesses of what the 
teaching of Christ actually became among men when delivered from age to age. 
It is from study of them that we learn the development of doctrines once revealed. 
Nearly their entire testimony is on the meaning of Scripture and on the existence 
of Christian custom, or tradition, belief, and practice, but it touches the whole 
system of doctrines and ordinances known as Christianity. It is good to read 
them for edification, but their office is witnessing. 

Christ is the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever, and his faith is as true 
now as when he taught it in Judea, and is as evidently so to an honest mind ; if 
the distance of places and the lapse of ages are urged against this statement, the 
.sufficient answer is the testimony of the Scriptures, of their original interpreters, 
the Fathers of the Church, and the unbroken continuing of the one, apostolic, 
Catholic doctrine and organism. 

Between the Fathers of the Church and great religious leaders outside of her 
pale there is this essential difference : The Fathers witnessed to a truth once and 
for all delivered, and the others taught as original sources of truth. The inter- 
pretations of the Fathers were made in the church, for the church, and with the 
church. Luther and the rest like him interpreted out of the church, against the 
church, and condemned by the church. This difference characterizes the Pro- 
testant and Catholic views of the value of the Fathers. Canon Farrar takes the 
Protestant view, treats the subjects of his history as personages who teach well if 
they agree with him, and teach ill if they do not. He is not acrimonious, but he 
is Protestant. His only source of revealed truth whether he admits it or not 
is Scriptures, held and expounded by what he would deem enlightened reason. 



1889.] NEW PUBLICATIONS. 709 

He is broad-church, and therefore easy on his opponents and good-natured; 
but the Fathers can witness to him only as eye-witnesses of ancient facts, and as 
exponents of antique theories. The essence of religion does not, in his view, go 
out beyond the individual into a great brotherhood, does not make a spiritual 
kingdom, is not organic; religion is exclusively personal as to its essence, and 
organic only as to its proprieties and conveniences. 

Hence the teachings of the Fathers are first discussed by him, approved or 
disapproved, and only then allowed as testimony. The Fathers may be witnesses 
if they agree with him. 

So he can speak in terms of high approval of the many glorious deeds and 
noble traits of Ambrose, Chrysostom, Augustine, Jerome, Basil, and at the same 
time call upon his readers to behold the " clergy exalted into pride of power and 
forced into compulsory celibacy ; to see the pagan world profoundly alienated by 
the worship of spurious martyrs and their yet more spurious relics ; to observe 
the strong stream of unconscious Manichean sentiment which surrounded virginity 
with ecstatic admiration and depreciated marriage as a miserable concession ; to 
deplore the furious outbreaks of ignorant fanaticism, . . . the encroachments of 
episcopal autocracy and the reintroduction into Christianity of Jewish formalism 
and Jewish bondage." In a word, the failure of Christ is proved by the lives of 
the Fathers if Christ taught Protestantism. 

Cardinal Newman says that the study of the Fathers made him a Catholic. 
Canon Farrar has no such use for their lives and writings, as to guide him to a 
knowledge of true Christianity. His book is an attempt to make pleasant read- 
ing out of patristic history, at the same time rejecting the Fathers as witnesses of 
the orthodox Christian faith. The work is indeed pleasant reading enough, 
the style full of fine imagery and graphic word-painting, and the book abounding 
everywhere with eloquent passages. But as to the question : How do the Fathers 
of the Church stand on matters of controversy ? the author generally enough 
admits that they are Catholic, and then in effect says, So much the worse for 
them ; but, true to the easy temper of the broad-churchman, he would add, What 
is the difference ? they are glorious old men after all. 

LECTURES ON ENGLISH LITERATURE. By Maurice Francis Egan, LL.D., late 
editor of the New York Freeman's Journal, and Professor of English Lit- 
erature in the University of Notre Dame. New York: William H. Sadlier. 

The title to this book does not mean that it is a series of lectures systemati- 
cally arranged for a course of study on the topic chosen ; it is a collection of short 
lectures on various literary subjects and personages, dealing with the matter in 
hand in both an appreciative and critical spirit. 

The lectures are certainly entertaining reading. The style is sprightly and 
abounds in pleasant little rhetorical surprises. Mr. Egan is never dull, but he 
would better express his higher quality of honesty if he gave this little volume a 
less aspiring name than Lectures on English Literature. Nevertheless, as speci- 
mens of critical writing adapted to the comprehension of both an average college 
class and the general public, some of the lectures have considerable merit, espe- 
cially the one on Tennyson and Aubrey de Vere. The brilliant author will pardon 
our Doric taste if we-suggest that some matter, quite fit to maintain the attention 
of over-crammed pupils and to amuse them, when put into cold type is open to 

the accusation of flippancy. 

We thank Mr. Egan for this pretty little volume, which we insist upon being 
but an earnest of what he can do when he sets seriously to work to realize what 
his title in the present case only suggests. 



7io NEW PUBLICATIONS. [Aug., 1889. 

GERMANY'S DEBT TO IRELAND. By the Rev. Wm. Stang, D.D. New York 
and Cincinnati: Fr. Pustet & Co. 

The spirit of the missionary has ever been the dominant trait of the Irish 
race. We believe, however, that few of our readers can take up this little book 
of Dr. Stang's without confessing their surprise at the extent and results of Irish 
missionary labors throughout continental Europe over twelve centuries ago. The 
missionary zeal of the Irish monks reaped such abundant harvest in Germany 
particularly that to Ireland is due the title bestowed upon her by the leaders of 
the German Catholics, in their address to O'Connell in 1844, of the " Mother of 
religion in Germany." This month of July will witness an elaborate celebration 
at Wiirzburg of the twelfth centenary of the introduction of Christianity into 
Franconia by these Irish missionaries. And Dr. Stang does well even to briefly 
set forth the names and achievements of the heroic men who had so much to do 
with the Christianizing and civilizing of that foremost of modern races, the 
Teutonic. 



BOOKS RECEIVED. 

Mention of books in this place does not preclude extended notice in subsequent numbers. 

THE APOSTLESHIP OF PRAYER. By Father Henry Ramiere, of the Society of Jesus. A 

new translation, with notes, reference, analyses, and index. Philadelphia : The Messenger 

of the Sacred Heart. 
MERZE : THE STORY OF AN ACTRESS. By Morah Ellis Ryan. Chicago and New York : 

Rand, McNally & Co. 
THE RELIGIOUS STATE. Together with a Short Treatise on the Vocation to the Priesthood. 

Translated from the Italian of St. Alphonsus de Liguori, Doctor of the Church. Edited 

by Rev. Eugene Grimm, C.SS.R. New York, Cincinnati, and Chicago: Benziger Bros. 
ETHICAL RELIGION. By William Mackintire Salter. Boston : Roberts Bros. 
THE HOLY MASS. By St. Alphonsus de Liguori, Doctor of the Church. Edited by Rev. 

Eugene Grimm, C.SS.R. New York, Cincinnati, and Chicago: Benziger Bros. 
THE SACRED HEART OF JESUS. A Sermon by the Rev. J. F. Loughlin, D.D. Philadelphia: 

Published for the benefit of the Church of Our Lady oJ" the Rosary. 
FOUR LECTURES ON ANTHROPOLOGY AND BIOLOGY. By Thomas Hughes, S.J., Professor 

of Detroit College. Delivered under the auspices of the Detroit College Alumni Associ- 
ation. Lecture I., Prehistoric Races ; Lecture II., Actual Races in History; Lecture III., 

Species; or, Darwinism ; Lecture IV., Cells; or, Evolution. Detroit, Mich.: Ferguson 

Printing Co. 
THE HUMAN MORAL PROBLEM. An Inquiry into some of the Dark Points connected with 

the Human Necessities for a Supernatural Saviour. By R. R v Conn. New York: A. C. 

Armstrong & Son. 
LES AVEUGLES. Par Un Aveugle. Avec un preface de M. le Comte d'Hausonville de 

1'Acad^mie Francaise. Paris : Librairie Hachette et Cie. 
A POPULAR HISTORY OF CALIFORNIA. From the earliest period of its discovery to the 

present time. By Lucia Norman. Second edition, revised and enlarged. San Francisco : 

The Bancroft Co. 
THE STORY OF PATSY. By Kate Douglas Wiggin, author of The Birds Christmas CaroL 

Boston and New York: Houghton, Mifflin & Co. 
LES AVEUGLES UTILES, OUVRIERS, ACCORDEURS, PROFESSEURS, ORGANISTES. Par 

Maurice de la Sizeranne. Cinquieme Edition. Paris: Delhomme et Briguet. 
ZEITSCHRIFT FUR ELEKTROTECHNIK: Organ des Elektrotechnischen Vereins in Wien. 

Redacteur: Josef Karcis. Wien, 1889. 
WILLIAM GEORGE WARD AND THE OXFORD MOVEMENT. By Wilfrid Ward. London 

and New York : Macmillan & Co. 

THE FIRST EPISTLE TO THE CORINTHIANS. By the Rev. Marcus Dods, D.D. The Ex- 
positor's Bible. New York : A. C. Armstrong & Son. 
MONSIEUR LE CuRfi : A Drama for Young Ladies. To which is added, Je Parle Franfais, a 

Dialogue. By M. J. Wilton. New York: P. J. Kenedy. 
LEAVES FROM THE ANNALS OF THE SISTERS OF MERCY. Vol. III., containing Sketches 

of the Order in Newfoundland and the United States. By a Member of the Order of 

Mercy. New York : The Catholic Publication Society Co. 
MAJORIE'S ADVENTURE. By Agnes Sadlier. New York: D. & J. Sadlier. 
THE RIVAL MAIL CARRIERS : An Original Musical Sketch for Male and Female Characters. 

By M. J. Wilton. New York : P. J. Kenedy. 
THE SIEGE OF SYRACUSE : A Poetical Drama in Five Acts. By William A. Leahy. Boston: 

D. Lothrop Co. 



THE 



CATHOLIC WORLD. 



VOL. XLIX. SEPTEMBER, 1889. No. 294. 



A STUDY OF MODERN RELIGION. 

AMID so much that is dead or dying in the world of to-day, 
it becomes an indispensable obligation for those who would see 
the fruits of their labors to inquire into the forces that are living 
and likely to shape the after age. Especially does it become 
religious teachers not to fight against shadows, nor to beat the 
air in vain. Now, it is certain, when we look round in this year 
of grace 1889, that two such energizing powers are visible, of 
actual present moment on the world's theatre : I mean the French 
Revolution, and over against it, the wide movement which, for 
reasons to be advanced by and by, I shall call German Literature. 
These two, by antagonism and combination of a most unexpected 
kind, have set their seal upon the hundred years now drawing 
to a close, and stamped them with an unmistakable character. 
All other influences to which the eighteenth century gave birth 
may be said to have merged in these, and these likewise are its 
offspring, though they made an end of it. With pain and anguish, 
increasing at last to convulsive death-throes, the age of Hume 
and Voltaire brought to light in lucem dedit, as the Latin ex- 
pression runs a new social system on one side of the Rhine, a 
new philosophy and religion on the other. If Germany has long 
been the home of speculative Thought, the French race has shown 
itself, beyond all, swift to action as to speech, prompt in seeing 
the consequences of a given system, and reckless in carrying 
them out to the bitter end. That such systems have always been 
imported from abroad has not hindered their enthusiastic adop- 
tion by the light-hearted Gaul, now, as in the time of Caesar, 
novarum rerum appetens. It is true that the French Revolution 
did not adequately realize all that lay in the brain of Berlin and 
Weimar. But perhaps without the rude apostolate of the sans- 

Copyright. REV. A. F. HEWIT. 



;i2 A STUDY OF MODERN RELIGION. [Sept., 



culottes and their entry into the capitals of Europe, the phil- 
osophers, whose right hand they in fact were, might have dreamed 
and written, and mankind have taken little heed of them. It is, 
at any rate, no exaggeration to say that the Revolution put a 
sword into the hands of German Thought, and, after the fashion 
of Mahomet, preached a new Religion amid the thunders of battle. 

These two forces are strikingly represented in the man of 
action, Napoleon, and the man of speculation, Goethe, whose 
destiny it was for an instant, after the cannon of Jena, to meet 
face to face and then to go their several ways. Napoleon pro- 
fessed to disdain " ideologues," but he was nevertheless as sub- 
servient to them as the genie was to Aladdin, which appeared 
when he rubbed his magic lamp. The " armed soldier of the 
Revolution," he, too, was a slave of the lamp; in spite of him 
self, he " wrought in sad sincerity " ; he was unable to break away 
from the fetters of Thought which directed while they set bounds 
to his ambition. If, indeed, the Revolution had achieved a tenth 
part of its programme, we might, as Barrere told the Convention, 
regard it as a new beginning of History. But from a political 
movement, which in the main it has proved to be, we must not 
look for an essential change to come over the world. Nothing 
would be easier than to show, with De Tocqueville, that, con- 
sidered practically, the Revolution altered much less in the France 
bequeathed to posterity by Richelieu, its great creator of the 
seventeenth century, than has been imagined. Nay, it may be 
charged with sharpening the axe of absolute governments, and 
with intensifying social grievances until the conspiracy against 
what is called order threatens to embrace the working classes of 
every land. If we meditate on the three formidable words, Con- 
scription, Nihilism, and Socialism, we shall deem the Revolution 
anarchic rather than creative, and be very shy of dating a new 
constructive epoch from either 1789 or 1793. Lafayette, Robes- 
pierre, Napoleon, Guizot, Thiers, Gambetta what are these but 
the names of men that have not solved the social problem ? 
As saviours of society they have one and all failed. The down- 
ward course of France, which nothing seems capable of arrest- 
ing, is a mighty argument against the Revolution ; and its in- 
terpretation of Liberty, Fraternity, and Equality, issuing in the 
Social Contract, may be left to demonstrate its own impotence, 
and to refute Jean Jacques, by the stern logic of Anarchy justi- 
fying Absolutism, and of Absolutism undermined by Anarchy. 

But the political consequences, however disastrous to princi- 
palities and powers, are as dust in the balance compared with 



1889.] A STUDY OF MODERN RELIGION. ' 713 

the effect of these new movements on the mind and spirit of 
man. What we have to deal with is, in truth, a new Religion, 
as Edmund Burke, with his piercing genius, at once discerned. 
For Religion combines all the elements, social and individual; 
it embraces Nature, Thought, and Action; it is poetry, phil- 
osophy, practice, sublimated to the highest degree and meeting 
in a synthesis whose power touches alike the educated and the 
uneducated, and makes all things according to the pattern shown 
it on the mount the Mount of Vision, whence the world at all 
times is governed. The ancien regime was doomed to pass away, 
and the experiments which have followed may at least result in 
some hitherto unknown species of stable equilibrium, even for 
France. But that is not the question of questions. Not to 
French Revolutions but to German Literature must we turn if 
we care to know what the modern world is everywhere accept- 
ing as its religious creed. And if it could be granted, as I, 
for one, am not prepared to grant, that German Thought in its 
widest extent, as Science, Criticism, History, and Speculation, has 
created the relatively truest synthesis of knowledge, it would 
follow that our allegiance is due to it, and that nothing save 
irrational dislike and prejudice will in the long run keep us 
from owning its sovereignty. What else, indeed, could ? Ought 
we not to be as anxious to follow Reason as Reason is to con- 
vert us ? Let us ask, then, What is the synthesis of German 
Thought, what is the religion proposed by it ? 

We may describe it partly by enumerating the things which 
it denies, and partly by dwelling on those which it affirms ; or 
again, and more fruitfully, by taking a dispassionate view of the 
men who are accounted its heralds and prophets. For, rich and 
varied as is the literature of the Fatherland, there runs from end 
to end a sameness of intellectual style whereby it may be defined 
as a living spirit. Whether we study the Christian Jean Paul or 
" the great heathen ' Goethe, whether we compare Luther with 
Lessing, or Kant with Hegel, or Heine with Angelus Silesius 
(and I purposely choose men of the most opposite tendencies), 
we can always distinguish the peculiar German touch, so unlike 
the English or the classic ; we can recognize the atmosphere 
surrounding them, which once inhaled is never after to be mis- 
taken. During the last sixty or seventy years it has, no doubt, 
impregnated the literature and language of all civilized peoples ; 
and it may be now impossible to quote any author who has not 
received a spark, as Carlyle would say, from its " Baphometic 
fire-baptism." Strauss has justly observed that there is no culti- 
VOL. XLIX. 46 



714 A STUDY OF MODERN RELIGION. [Sept., 

vated German of the present day who does not owe a part of 
his training to Goethe. In like manner we may affirm that the 
most English of Englishmen, and the most French of Frenchmen 
that Mr. Ruskin, for example, and Victor Hugo have been an 
influence in the nineteenth century because they have expressed 
German ideas in a speech their fellow-countrymen could under- 
stand. To attempt a demonstration of this point can be needful 
only with readers who have never looked into the German origi- 
nal texts, whence not merely our books but our daily newspapers 
have derived so much of their wisdom. 

Now, it is not simply that, as the late Mr. Arnold was wont 
to say, "Germany has studied the facts' upon which any fresh 
synthesis may require to be established, but that her leading 
writers have anticipated the general conclusions, and are ready to 
dictate creeds and articles of faith as soon as the multitude cries 
out for them. The new Religion may be learnt, and is commonly 
taken, like a disease, by mere contact with the literature that in 
a thousand unsuspected passages is full of its spirit. Not so 
much by preaching as by reading has it been spread. The en- 
thusiasm it kindles in many hearts, though deep and fervid, is 
often silent. It is a Religion whose incoming resembles a rising 
tide, and which has made a conquest of numbers who, in their 
outward course and conversation, have not betrayed themselves 
except to the initiated. Some have caught the infection while 
prosecuting severe scientific studies ; others in their light reading, 
in poetry as innocent as Wordsworth's, and in stories as pathetic 
as Paul et Virginie. To many it has come as the issue of relig- 
ious conflicts which have almost gone beyond the bounds of im- 
aginable suffering. There is no reckoning the channels through 
which its influence pierces ; and as it floods the soul like waters 
in the night without warning or tumult, as it is a spirit and not 
a set of formulas, as it is a mood consequent on earnest medita- 
tion, or induced by a kind of subduing passion, we cannot 
wonder that it laughs to scorn the polemics of Clarke and Paley, 
the scholastic logic, the cut and thrust of worn-out examiners' 
manuals, or smiles at the ignorant rudeness of disputants that 
have never known its charm. It is not, in the old meaning ot 
the word, an esoteric doctrine, but an "open secret, which 'can- 
not be learnt like mathematics, for it has the individual, the per- 
sonal quality proper to things of the soul." 

Two men, in modern times, I would select as imaging forth 
in their lives and writings the very genius of this new Religion 
Baruch Spinoza and Wolfgang Goethe. Much as in some respects 



.] A STUDY OF MODERN RELIGION. 715 

they differ, their names must be inseparably associated in the 
calendar of its saints and sages. The saint, canonized by an ad- 
miring world, and raised aloft in his marble effigy at Amsterdam, 
is, of course, Spinoza. The sage, who did not care to be a saint, 
has been worshipped as the Shakspere of these latter days, and 
was beyond question one of the most thoughtful and exquisite 
spirits that the world has ever known. Not, therefore, without 
reason have the writings of both been studied as though forming 
the Bible of Humanity under a new Dispensation. Spinoza, with 
his grave mathematical phrase, and Goethe, who had easy and 
playful command of all the styles, betray a most strict, though 
not always obvious, affinity in their manner of thinking, and an- 
nounce the burden of man, Onus Adami, with as strongly-marked 
an accent as ever distinguished a prophet of Israel. It remains 
to be seen, indeed, whether like him they tell of redemption and 
a Messiah. But the undoubted fact that modern culture fmcls 
their meaning inexhaustible and their applicableness at every turn, 
bears witness to their office and function, to Spinoza as the 
bringer-in of a new theology, and to Goethe as the Vates, the 
inspired oracle of its human, every-day significance. As regards 
the Hebrew metaphysician, he is almost officially recognized, in 
the bold words of Novalis, as the "God-intoxicated man." "Spi- 
noza was a penetrating genius," Herder has remarked; "he was 
the Theologian of Cartesianism. To such ^dizzy heights in the 
Empyrean of the Infinite had he soared that all particular details 
lay diminished far beneath his gaze; such and none other was his 
real Atheism." He beheld the universe sub specie ceternitalis, or 
reasoned as though he did. But Goethe would run no risk of 
divine 'intoxication; his mind was essentially the artist's; enough 
for him that the fair domain of Nature and Life was by inheri- 
tance or conquest his own. Yet he read Spinoza eagerly, and with 
a certain reverence, as one that " geometrized divinely," and laid 
rule and compass upon the universe. Goethe saw the human side 
of things, and chants their fading beauty, or, with a gentler mock- 
ery than Voltaire's, portrays their disorder and imperfection, as 
in the great prose comedy (for it is nothing else) of Wilhelm 
Meister. These, however, are complementary aspects of the 
creed which he and Spinoza hold in common, that God is 
Nature in its eternal cause, and Nature is God in his manifes- 
tation or evolution along the ladder of Being. As a French critic, the 
late M. Caro, has very well observed of Goethe's relation to the 
Jew of Amsterdam, Cest V esprit du systcme, moins le systcme. 
So individual a temper as Goethe's could not repeat another 



716 A STUDY OF MODERN RELIGION. [Sept., 

man's creed without adding his own interpretation. "The pros- 
pect, wide and free, over the physical as the moral world," which, 
by his own confession in Dichtung und Wahrheit, he enjoyed 
in Spinoza's Ethics, need not imply a close acquaintance with 
his writings. Not in the relation of master and disciple were 
they to stand, but in that much more intimate connection that 
binds kindred spirits across the centuries. 

Remarkable it is that men of every shade of belief appear 
to have condemned Spinoza especially after the posthumous pub- 
lication of his greatest work, the Ethics, in 1677 as an Atheist. 
Catholics and Protestants agreed with the brethren of his syna- 
gogue in laying him under a ban. Bossuet and Massillon, Huet 
and Fenelon, and the tolerant Leibnitz, representatives of very 
different systems and familiar with the meaning of metaphysical 
terms, denounced his opinions in no measured language. Mas- 
slllon's eloquent outburst in his sermon, Des Doutes sur la Re- 
ligion, is most curious and instructive ; but all, without excep- 
tion, cry him down for an enemy of God and a blasphemous 
upholder of sheer Materialism. It is a small thing, in compari- 
son with such grave judgments, that Voltaire disparaged and 
Bayle slandered him. Meanwhile his books are there in proof 
that he maintained an infinite, eternal Reality, which always has 
existed, unchangeable and necessary ; nay, that he went further, 
and declared that the Infinite alone exists. Moreover, the One 
Substance, though material or extended by nature, he defined 
to be likewise infinite Thought How, then, are we to speak 
of a believer in the Eternal Mind as no believer in God ? The 
answer is that Spinoza's God is one of which, in the last resort, 
human language and human attributes can furnish no analogy 
whatever. Between the faculties of man and the nature of the 
First Cause there can be, according to this father of the Agnostics, 
no conceivable relation. " Would not," he asks with biting sar- 
casm, " a triangle, if it could think, imagine that God was, in 
an eminent way, modo eminentiori, triangular ? And a thinking 
circle, would it not suppose the Divine Nature to be round ? ' 
He passes by the Personal Deity acknowledged in all the churches 
of his time and in the Old Testament, to assert a self-existing 
unconscious Nature, whose modes were Extension and Thought, 
and in whose being the distinctions which seem most real to 
men have no foundation. More logical than Kant, in whose 
system, despite of his metaphysics, the Moral Law has an objective 
validity, Spinoza does not merely pause to teach us that Evil 
is relative Good, but goes boldly on to the assertion that in 



1889.] A STUDY OF MODERN RELIGION. 717 

God neither good nor evil exists at all. They are both human 
conceptions, applicable only to phenomena. I have elsewhere 
pointed out the kinship of this strange and frightful doctrine 
with that which has largely prevailed in German schools of 
mysticism, some Christian, some anti-Christian, from Meister 
Eckhart, in the fourteenth century, to Schopenhauer and Von 
Hartmann, in our own day. It is, I have said, a very precise 
denial of the teaching of St. John, "God is Light, and in him 
is no darkness at all," for it ascribes to the Divine Nature an 
abysmal darkness, and identifies moral evil with moral good in 
the Most High. This is that secret of German Thought which 
some have desired to conceal from the world at large. It is 
the most absolute, and, in the judgment of sound logic, the only 
consistent form of Monism, or the philosophy of Pantheism. It 
is the latest and the most startling of dramatic unities, which 
tends, however, to fall into the worship of revolt and evil for 
their own sake, and from the serene indifference of Spinoza to 
lapse, as Goethe not seldom did, into admiration of the chaotic 
or Titanian deities, of Prometheus, and of Lucifer. In the sym- 
pathetic handling of such themes, whether as real or as expressive 
poetry, it is impossible not to discern the triumph of influences 
that Christianity has reckoned among its foes from the begin- 
ning, and to which it has ascribed a personality more than 
human. How narrow is the interval between glorifying the 
" secret holiness of evil' and setting up a cultus of Satan the 
Adversary? These are things to make one blanch in naming them ; 
but they are not only justified in Spinoza's creed, they are its 
inevitable consequences, and valid if Pantheism be true. Much oi 
their spirit is alive and stirring in Goethe's Faust, but the hold 
they took upon him is still more vividly shown in the fragments 
of Titanic poetry which he left unfinished. This, therefore, is our 
justification if we speak of Spinoza's Atheism. 

What, we may next inquire, is the relation in which Spinoza 
and Goethe, as spokesmen of modern thought, desired to stand 
towards the Christian religion ? Simply indifferent they could not 
be. Even the one of them who never had been a Christian, and 
whose language when combating certain tenets of the Roman 
Church abdicates its usual serenity, has borrowed from the New 
Testament, and in particular from St. John, those beautiful sayings 
which lend to his Ethics no small part of their fascination. He 
has set up the life of Christ as realizing the perfect ideal of virtue. 
Much more did Goethe, though, in a manner which lies open 
to criticism, render again in his artistic speech the human and 



;i8 A STUDY OF MODERN RELIGION. [Sept., 

pathetic elements of the Gospel, so that, as we all know, a thinker 
of Carlyle's genius could seem hardly to have heard of Christi- 
anity as the " Religion of Sorrow" until he came across the parable 
in the Second Part of Wilhelm Meister. A like train of reasoning 
has persuaded many since his day to call themselves Christian, in 
spite of the change their mind has undergone towards much that 
is accounted orthodox teaching, and really is so, though they re- 
ject the supernatural order, miracles, revelation, and the Gospel 
history. Spinoza's conception of Natura naturans implies the 
doctrine called long afterwards Evolution, which to the observant 
eye of Goethe was in so many ways familiar. Evolution, how- 
ever, demands that the new shall rise out of the old, or the old 
be transformed into the new. Hegel would tell us that the earlier 
moments must be reconciled, not abolished ; summed up, not cast 
aside, in the form that succeeds to them. Is it, in truth, possible 
that any one conversant with the New Testament and the Chris- 
tian life would deliberately sink to a lower level ? These men aim 
at "transcending' Christianity, not at falling beneath it. When 
they deny the anthropomorphic, as Spinoza did, they do not mean 
to affirm the bestial. Though it is said of him by a modern 
eulogist that he " did away with final causes and with God along 
with them," it is not implied that he wished to do away with re- 
ligion, strange as the distinction may sound. Of Goethe, again, 
we know the satirical aphorism, " He that possesses neither science 
nor art may betake himself to religion," and how he poured con- 
tempt on Lavater's "finding a refuge in Eternity," while in his 
correspondence he talks of the " fairy-tale," the Mdhrchen, " ot 
Christ." But all this does not hinder his admirers, and many who 
do not admire him, from perceiving as dogmatic a religion in 
his writings generally as the Christian with which he would have 
nothing to do. This newly-invented faith, we are told, is larger, 
grander, and more divinely human than the old, which, however, 
has contributed in no slight degree to its grace and beauty. 
Monism professes to contain in itself the substance of Church and 
Bible. For this, it argues, is not a Personal God revealing him- 
self in the flesh, but the conviction that Truth and Love are as 
necessary elements in the life of the world, and as much bound 
up with the framework of existence, as the law of gravitation or 
the correlation of forces. Vulgar Atheism neither seeks nor finds 
a Divine Presence in things ; and of course I do not deny that 
vulgar Atheism has overrun society, or has become a stupid in- 
difference to all that lies out of the grasp of the five senses. But 
men will have religion, too, as well as art and science ; they can- 



1889.] SOUL AND SENSE. 719 

not live without it as the years go on. And in completing this 
necessarily slight sketch of the tendencies which are working to- 
wards a religious revolution, I propose to inquire how we must 
shape the weapons of our warfare so as to be sure that we can 
use them in battle, and not merely on parade. Christian apolo- 
gists, I often think, would do well to bear in mind the severe 
but manly words of Milton: "I cannot praise a fugitive and clois- 
tered virtue, unexercised and unbreathed, that never sallies out 
and sees her adversary, but slinks out of the race where that im- 
mortal garland is to be run for, not without heat and dust." 
Monism, as was long ago foretold, is the last enemy to be de- 
stroyed. Its roots lie deep in history, and its relation to the ele- 
ments of religion, natural or revealed, demands to be carefully 
searched into, be the toil and pain of the investigation as great 
as the most childlike (and, shall we say, the most indolent ?) of 
devout souls may dream. 

WILLIAM BAPRY. 



SOUL AND SENSE. 

WHEN the hammer of relentless pain 
Doth break the rivets of the fleshly chain 

Which binds the spirit, 
Then she spreads her wings. 
Suffering can dim the mortal sight, 
But makes the eye of faith more bright 

Heaven is more near it, 
Nearrer all celestial things. 



And when he comes from whom the body shrinks, 
Fearing as Death, and into darkness sinks, 
Joyous the soul doth rise 

"Tis Life! 'tis Life!" she cries. 

A. B. WARD. 



720 'VARSITY REMINISCENCES. [Sept., 



'VARSITY REMINISCENCES, BY A CAMBRIDGE M.A. 

SOME eight centuries ago, when a variety of influences were 
arousing a general desire for knowledge in Western Europe, four 
French Benedictines opened a school in the little Roman town of 
Grante-brigge, about fifty miles north of London. Scholars were 
attracted, the religious houses of the town assisted, teachers 
multiplied, and, following the custom of the age, instructors 
and pupils banded together for mutual assistance and protection, 
and formed themselves into a corporation, syndicate, or university. 
They were ruled by a chancellor, who was assisted by the 
graduates or teachers, forming the senate. These were doctors, 
who lectured on theology, law, and medicine ; and masters, who 
taught the liberal arts, logic, grammar, and mathematics; they 
again were assisted by juniors or bachelors. Near two hundred 
years later the bishop of the diocese founded the College of 
Peterhouse for a society of masters, fellows, and scholars ; after a 
time sovereigns, prelates, and nobles established similar houses and 
enriched them with endowments ; the university also obtained 
charters, bulls, and privileges. 

Originally students entered very young and were really school- 
boys ; but about two hundred years ago the present age of en- 
tering Cambridge, eighteen or nineteen, became customary. 
About the same time Aristotle's system paled before the light oi 
Newton, Bacon, Galileo, Kepler, and other modern thinkers, and 
mathematics and natural science became the usual subjects ot 
study. Then, or even earlier, it was made obligatory on under- 
graduates to belong to a college, and this restriction has only 
lately been removed. The university has of late years gained 
marvellously in efficiency, influence, and numbers ; the old re- 
ligious tests have in most cases been removed, and the course 
of studies widely extended. There are now some hundreds of non- 
collegiate students, and poor men can reside for the necessary 
twenty-six weeks a year for three years, and pay all expenses, 
for .150. Of course it is far preferable to be at a college, but 
the cost would be three times as great ; in fact, to be comforta- 
ble a man should have at least ^"200 a year, and ,300 would 
be better. Medical degrees are now given, and though the 
course is five years, as against four in London, this has attracted 
great numbers. Cavendish College, for lads from sixteen years, 



1889.] 'VARSITY REMINISCENCES. 721 

has been recently opened, and trains especially for scholastic 
work. The students here have only one private room each, as in 
an American boarding-house, and take all their meals together, 
but eighty guineas pays all their yearly bills for thirty-six weeks 
of residence. Whereas twenty years ago there were not two 
thousand undergraduates at Cambridge, the number now exceeds 
three thousand. 

Nor is the fair sex neglected. Girton College, two miles from 
town, was founded thirteen years ago ; it has seventy-five sets oi 
rooms, and the pension is one hundred guineas a year. Newn- 
ham, more recent and in the suburbs, is similar, and is presided 
over by a daughter of Mr. Gladstone. The lady students may 
attend university lectures and present themselves for the public 
examinations, and some have gained high honors. 

Moreover, the university conducts local examinations in 
various parts of England, bestowing certificates of efficiency on 
those who qualify ; it also delivers courses of lectures in populous 
places, and its curriculum naturally regulates the course of study 
in a large number of schools. It is hard to estimate the full ex- 
tent of its work, direct and indirect. 

The university year is divided into three parts, the Michael- 
mas, Lent, and Easter terms. To " keep ' a term an under- 
graduate must reside during two-thirds of it, thus spending half 
the year at the university, those reading for honors having the 
additional privilege of residing during two months of the long 
vacation. The great majority of entries are in October, and to 
take a degree (except a medical one) a residence of nine terms, 
or three years, is necessary. About nine hundred freshmen enter 
each October, and more than one-fifth of these go to Trinity. 
There are some three thousand undergraduates in the university : 
seven hundred at Trinity, perhaps half that number at John's, 
the remainder divided between the fifteen small colleges some oi 
which, however, have two hundred students the new Cavendish 
and Selwyn houses, and two or three hundred are non-collegiate 
students. Trinity limits its entries, or it would swamp the rest 
of the university. Men are tempted to other colleges by exhi- - 
bitions from their preparatory schools, by minor scholarships 
offered for competition by the various colleges, by special ad- 
vantages, such as Trinity Hall offers for legal, and Caius for 
medical study, and many men go naturally to the college ot 
their father or tutor. A great deal of pecuniary assistance may 
be obtained by clever men, sometimes more than sufficient to 
meet all their expenses. We knew three brothers, all of whom 



722 'VARSITY REMINISCENCES. [Sept., 

took very high honors at Cambridge, and two ot them at Ox- 
ford as well. They each got about 300 a year one way and 
another, a school exhibition held by one of them being worth 
So a year for four years and ,180 for the fifth. College 
scholarships are sometimes worth ;ioo a year. The pick ot 
the young graduates are elected to fill vacancies as they occur 
on the lists of fellows. There are three hundred and fifty fel- 
lowships at the seventeen colleges. A fellowship is worth ,200 
or 300 a year, besides college rooms, commons, and other 
advantages should the fellow reside at the university. In this 
case he usually holds some college appointment, for which he 
receives a salary, as tutor, lecturer, bursar, etc. Fellows orig- 
inally were college officers, chiefly teachers, therefore until re- 
cently they vacated their fellowships on marriage or on gaining 
an independent income ; but now the alternative (almost always 
chosen) is given at most colleges of retaining the fellowship for 
ten years from graduating as Master of Arts (which is done 
simply by paying certain fees three years after the degree ot 
Bachelor of Arts is taken) with no restriction. 

The time which a fellow spends at the university as a col- 
lege or university official does not reckon for this purpose, the 
object being to keep as many in the place as possible. In the 
old days the greater part of the fellows had to be ordained, 
suited or no to " swallow the bitter pill of orders," as some of these 
victims of an evil tradition termed it but in most cases this 
restriction has now been abolished. A number of livings are in 
the gift of the colleges, and these the fellows confer on their 
noble selves in order of seniority. Consequently, in the old days 
men would idle their best years in college, eating their hearts 
out waiting for a good living, the lady of their choice the while 
losing her youth and spirits in joyless expectancy. Then at 
length the grizzled sexagenarian would marry, and in his de- 
clining days assume the untried role of Benedick and parson 
with indifferent success. There is a lovely lime-tree avenue at 
the back of Trinity, through which, some miles distant, the spire 
of a church may be descried. This used to be called the type of 
the life of a college don : a long, dreary way with a church at 
the end. Now a brighter day has dawned for the elite of the 
university ; the young dons who remain, not constrained k to be- 
come churchmen or remain celibates, often make comfortable in- 
comes and establish themselves happily, though it is whispered 
that a rivalry in houses, dinners, and display has set in. For 
the fellow who declines to reside, but goes up to London to 



.] 'VARSITY REMINISCENCES. 723 

practise at the bar or enter on some other career, a few hun- 
dreds a year for a dozen years tides him over the period of 
waiting when briefs are few and profits slender; it certainly is 
an ample prize for proficiency in scholarship. In selecting a 
college clever youths look out for one where there are fellow- 
ships vacant, for, if possible, vacancies are filled by members of 
the college. 

A fellowship gives a title to holy orders in the Church of 
England, other candidates having to take a curacy to obtain a 
title. The fellow who seeks orders must present to the Bishop 
of Ely a letter from the other fellows of his college stating that 
he is a fit and proper person for the clerical office. There was 
a clever young don at Cambridge some score of years ago who 
had for years studied theology at Munich under Dr. von D61- 
linger, professor of theology there. As some difficulty arose 
about the letters of orders, this young fellow's compeers suspect- 
ing his theological opinions, the bishop refused to ordain him. 
A Hibernian divine, meeting the rejected applicant, rallied him 
on his woful aspect. "Sure, they haven't treated ye worse than 
the holy Apostle St. Paul." " How do you make that out, doc- 
tor ? St. Paul was never served as I have been," was the re- 
joinder. "Why, isn't it written in the holy Scriptures, 'Then they 
that should have examined him departed from him, and the chief 
captain would have nothing to do with him when he knew that he 
was a Roman' "; with which consolation he was fain to rest content. 

Freshmen come up in October, a week or two before the 
other men. If they are lucky enough to obtain rooms in college 
they have to furnish them, but ordinarily they must go into licensed 
lodgings at first. It is usual to take as much of the outgoing 
man's furniture at a valuation as is found useful. The flat, square 
cap or " mortar-board ' must be bought, and the gown of dark 
blue or black, which varies slightly in pattern for the different 
colleges. Some freshmen think it good form to smash their mor- 
tar-board, and rend their gown to remove the freshness of their 
appearance. These badges of university membership must be 
worn at lectures, chapel (except on surplice days), hall, the 
whole of Sundays, and after dark. The university police are 
M. A.'s styled proctors, who prowl about at night attended by 
two " bull dogs ' or retainers, one of whom carries the university 
statutes bound in oak and ^brass, suspended by a chain. Should 
the proctor catch a gownless undergraduate (and chase is given 
if necessary), he asks his name and college, and summons him to 
appear for punishment i.e., a fine next day. 



724 'VARSITY REMINISCENCES, [Sept., 

The college daily routine commences with chapel at 7 or 
7:30, and there is evening chapel at 4:30, before 5 o'clock hall 
(dinner). Freshmen attend one chapel daily, and both on Sun- 
day ; as they advance in standing easier demands are made on 
their devotion. Prayers are read by the chaplain, and lessons by 
the scholars, in turn. On Sundays, saints' days and their eves, 
surplices are worn instead of gowns, and it is a fine sight on 
Sunday evenings at Trinity to see some seven or eight hundred 
men in surplices. One has heard stories about the man who 
concealed a bottle of sherry cobbler under his surplice and duly 
provided himself with straws ; the gurgling sounds produced 
when (during the Litany) he got down to the ice puzzling his 
neighbors not a little. Another man lost his wager to appear in 
chapel in two garments only, it being held that a surplice and a 
pair of boots were three things. The services at King's and 
Trinity are equal to those of cathedrals ; they have schools for 
the choristers, and the lay clerks are well paid ; the ante-chapel 
at King's is open to all comers. Other chapels have services 
more or less ornate, but in one or two of music there is none. 
It was rather difficult to induce some of the old-fashioned 
masters, who had not music in their souls, to allow organs stand- 
ing-room in their chapels. A trembling deputation of musical 
students presented themselves before such an unwilling dignitary : 
"May we sing the Te Deum in chapel, sir?' "Yes," he re- 
plied, "you may sing the We praise Thee." "And may we 
sing the Benedicite?" they added.- "Well, yes; you may sing, 
Oh, all ye." "And may we add the Benedictus ? ' said they, 
waxing confident. " Very well," replied the drowsy master, " I 
don't mind letting you sing the Blessed be." Breakfast, as a 
rule, is .a moderate repast in college ; the bed-maker or the gyp 
(man-servant) brings the commons of roll and butter (the latter is 
sold by the yard at Cambridge, and served in inches), and the 
student makes his coffee and boils his eggs at his own fire, and 
speedily despatches the meal, perhaps^ assisted by his next-door 
neighbor. But on Sundays and Saturdays, when there are no 
lectures, a glorious spread is often laid for a dozen or more 
guests ; cold salmon, game pies, cutlets, turkeys, every luxury of 
the season appears it gives one indigestion to recall it and in 
the centre of the board is a huge silver claret cup filled to the 
brim and requiring some physical power to wield. 

Courses of lectures are arranged for the forenoon; lecture 
takes an hour, and one, two, or even three have to be kept 
daily, freshmen, of course, being especially victimized. Lectures 



1889.] 'VAKSITY REMINISCENCES. 725 

are really classes, and sometimes they do a tale (of vacant pates) 
unfold. But men who read for honors usually supplement college 
lectures by private tuition, going to the tutor for an hour every 
other day. The tutor groups his pupils into suitable classes, and in 
the case of mathematics, the leading " Tripos " (from the stool 
on which the disputants originally sat) at Cambridge gives a 
problem paper to all his men once a week. One tutor had 
eighty pupils, each paying 36 a year, so he lectured to some 
purpose. The Poll men (01 TroMoi), after three or four terms' 
residence, are examined in the Senate House for the first time 
by the university ; this is the previous examination, or " Little 
Go." Honor men have also to pass it, but with some addi- 
tions. No great demand is made on the mental powers, yet 
most of the men used to "be ploughed," probably because 
they despised the whole thing and made no preparation. A 
Greek gospel, a Latin and a Greek classic, a little grammar, 
Paley's Evidences of Christianity, and a smattering of Euclid, 
arithmetic, and algebra, would not seem very trying. Yet this 
modicum of mathematics sometimes discomfits leading classical 
men. At one time so did mathematics tyrannize at Cambridge 
that a man could not compete for classical honors unless he 
had first taken honors in mathematics. Thus an eminent mod- 
ern linguist, who knew thirty living tongues, and was, of course, 
master of the classics, had to content himself with a mere 
poll degree because of his abhorrence for or inability to manipu- 
late the wily X, and had not an American university confer- 
red on him the distinction, he would never have received a 
doctor's degree. Those bigoted old days are happily long past. 
As to Paley, we used to work it up from catechisms, and 
there were doggerel rhymes, blank verses (save the mark ! ), 
and other vile mnemonical aids. Thus the characteristic features of 
Christ's teachings were suggested by something beginning, " Mo- 
ther and Thy brethren, fishers, paps, meat, do the will of," and 

a verse ending, 

"No humbug or quibbles 
Like the Jews, the old divils." 

The sequence of St. Paul's journeys was remembered by the 
following rigmarole, which, however, scans: "Ant Ant Icon- 
ium Lystra Derbe et Jerusalem Phrygia Phil A- -A- 
Thes Ber Athens Cor Ephes Jerusalem." These methods 
have yet to receive the imprimatur of the university. A descendant 
of the author of the Evidences could not refrain from writing 
"Tales of my grandfather" at the head of his paper; a lynx- 



726 'VARSITY REMINISCENCES. [Sept., 

eyed examiner spied out the legend, and not having sufficient 
sunshine in his mental composition to be short-sighted for the 
nonce, "plucked' the irreverent undergraduate forthwith. 

At the end of their second year the Poll men undergo an- 
other examination, similar to, but severer than, the Little Go. 
Their third year they devote to whichever they select out of the 
following subjects : theology, logic, political economy, law, history, 
chemistry, geology, botany, zoology, mechanics, music. There are 
university professors to instruct in these subjects, and excellent 
museums and laboratories. After the Little Go honor men have 
no examination until their ninth term, when they undergo the 
final test by which they are classed. The leading triposes are 
mathematics, founded more than one hundred years ago, and 
classics, established in 1824. A hundred men, more or less, 
graduate annually in each of these triposes ; they are arranged in 
three classes, those in mathematics being known as wranglers, 
senior optimes, and junior optimes. Law is also a favorite tripos, 
and in our day the head place in law was secured by an Ameri- 
can. The natural and moral science triposes were established in 
1851, theology in 1874, and history and the Semitic and Indian 
languages the next year. A number of valuable money prizes 
and medals are given for proficiency in a great variety of sub- 
jects, but the man whose prize Greek essay took the splendid 
chancellor's gold medal showed that he possessed less taste than 
learning by setting it in a lady's waist-belt, and bestowing it 
upon his inamorata. Honor men usually read hard from six to 
eight hours a day, or even more, but a man who has been well 
taught at school need not fatigue himself over-much to take a 
pass degree. 

Some men come up to the university for a year, not to study, 
but to rub off the school-boy before joining their regiment or set- 
tling down to the life of a country squire ; but these are excep- 
tions. For a man not plagued by the desire of university dis- 
tinctions, and with a sufficiency of means, three years may be 
spent at Cambridge very pleasantly, and not without profit. He 
is pretty much his own master, yet not absolutely without con- 
trol ; he knows a great variety of men of his own age, for the 
most part gentlemen, and the spirit of the place condemns any- 
thing mean, dishonorable, or priggish. We cannot help regretting 
the absence of the true religion, but must admit much natural 
virtue. There is not much harm amongst the undergraduates, but 
plenty of life. Years ago poor Gray, the poet, was tormented by 
his comrades. Timorous ot fire, he placed iron bars at his win- 



1889.] 'VARSITY REMINISCENCES. 727 

dows (which may still be seen) and provided a rope ladder. 
Aroused one night by the cry of fire, he adjusted his escape and 
hurried down the precious contrivance in his night attire to fall 
souse into the tub of water placed ready for his reception; the 
poor creature migrated forthwith to a quieter college. We remem- 
ber a nocturnal raid on the rooms of a harmless (and useless) 
little man with more pelf than brain, whose sole delight was in 
ecclesiastical ceremonies and adornments. To him a chasuble pre- 
sented greater attractions than a silver racing-cup, and a Gregor- 
ian chant than a drinking-song. His rooms were gorgeously 
furnished; there were two harmoniums, and he delighted to enter- 
tain his friends of similar tastes at a recherche dinner with a rich 
display of cut glass and choice wines, which discussed, vested in 
surplices, the host and guests would chant Compline in the ora- 
tory contrived out of a spare room. A man who keeps aloof 
from his fellows can hardly be popular ; so after one of his 
" wines ' this youth's rooms were invaded, and table, mirrors, 
cabinets, and altars converted into a shapeless pile of rubbish a 
pretty broad hint to the owner to betake himself elsewhere. This 
suggests that the High-Church party was ecclesiastically the ag- - 
gressive one in our day. A certain deacon, one Brother (or Father) 
Ignatius, established himself somewhere at the head of a handful oi 
disciples, who adopted the dress of Benedictine monks, concluding 
that as they looked like it, monks they must be. One day an appari- 
tion in robe, shaven skull, and sandals visited the university, learned 
who were those men most likely to assist him, and begged from col- 
lege to college for the English order of St. Benedict, receiving money 
here, luncheon there, and many other benefits, none of which came 
amiss to him ; and it was agreed by the faithful that if all the 
order had appetites of the same character as their delegate it was 
no marvel that they needed extra funds. The monk called on 
the arch-priest of the High-Church party, a burly divine scaling 
three hundred pounds, prostrated himself, and devoutly begged his 
blessing, a request so novel that the worthy man was thoroughly 
nonplused. Grasping the monk by the hand, he wrung it 
warmly, saying, " Welcome to Cambridge, sir; glad to see you." 
There was dismay among the faithful when it transpired that 
they had been fleeced by the enemy, the shaveling having been 
none other than a swell nobleman from London, who found ex- 
perimentizing on the pious of Cambridge equally profitable and 
less risky than filching watches in Regent Street. 

Heads of houses are mostly dignified old gentlemen mixing 
little in college affairs. Sometimes an error in election is made; 



728 ' VAKSITY REMINISCENCES. [Sept., 

instance the case of one heavy old dullard, who plodded on and 
on continuously, as such incubi have a way of doing, a burden 
and a drag to his college. He used to entertain the under- 
graduates at " perpendiculars," so termed because one was ex- 
pected to remain standing. Is it a compliment to men of twenty 
to be invited by the master to his drawing-room, there to group 
themselves, awefully round the guests he has dined, to be intro- 
duced to, or snubbed by, unattractive dowagers and blue-stockings, 
finally kept at bay by the tutor till these worthies have partaken 
of some light refreshment in the gallery and departed, and then 
admitted to consume a jelly and discuss a glass of Madeira, out 
of a clean glass if, perchance, one is to be found ? The master 
at this point used to approach each undergraduate and display 
his hospitality by putting to him three well-seasoned questions, 
recalling Artemus Ward's experience as census-taker ; they ran 
as follows : " Hev yer heerd from yer father ? ' " Do they guv 
yer problems at lectur' ? ' " Do yer attend lectur' reg'lar ? ' This 
inquisition completed, the bonhomme passed on to inflict it on 
the next victim. Far more appreciated was another master, a 
very aged and infirm man. Some of his undergrads, on dissi- 
pation bent and heedless of the flight of the enemy, in the small 
hours essayed to enter college by scaling some formidable re- 
volving spikes surmounting a wall. One of the men becoming 
entangled, was caught by the porter, and the party was sum- 
moned to the lodge. " Young men," said the master, " I'm 
ashamed of you ; you bring discredit on the college ; in my 
young days we used to put saddles on the spikes." " Carpe 
diem," " Dum vivimus vivamus," or some such phrase must 
have been the old gentleman's motto, and, truth to tell, there 
are worse. Of similar sentiments was the father of a greenhorn, 
who remonstrated with the authorities for confining his son to 
college on the evening of the fifth of November, and not per- 
mitting him to sally forth and combat with Town like a man, and 
it was a moot point whether of the pair pater or filius was the 
greater idiot. On the last night of his first term the hopeful son 
was humored to the top of his bent. His friends mixed for his 
delectation what they termed milk-punch, a vile compound con- 
cocted by pouring the contents of decanters, milk jugs, and spirit 
bottles into a bowl, and under the influence of this abomination 
they eventually bore him to bed. Waking some hours after, he 
beheld a friend with anxious countenance, who asked him if he 
was ready. " Ready for what ? ' was the reply. " Don't you 
know how you insulted Thomson last night ?' "I've no sort of a 



1889.] 'VARSITY REMINISCENCES. 729 

remembrance of it," was the amazed reply. "Well, that's what 
comes of too much milk-punch ; but never mind, I've arranged it 
all, and you may use my pistols, hair-triggers and perfect daisies. 
I'll order a fly when the gates open, and the meeting will be 
some way out near the Newmarket road." So the poor fellow, 
disconsolate with remorse, apprehension, and the effects of milk- 
punch, ruefully seated himself at his desk and penned a farewell 
to his parent, to be delivered should the rencontre prove un- 
fortunate for him. His second then drove him off through the 
darkness and fog of a December morning, and deposited him in 
the field of combat, an oozy, rush-grown marsh in the fens; he 
then told his principal to wait while he went to make final ar- 
rangements with the other party in the next field, whence, of 
course, he never returned. How the would-be combatant 
wandered, deserted, cold, and mortified, in the meadows; how he 
eventually found a rustic, then a conveyance, and finally returned 
to Cambridge to find that his persecutors had all gone down for 
the vacation, it is sad to contemplate ; so he gained his knowl- 
edge of life. 

The Town and Gown row is a time-honored institution, at 
least five hundred years old ; it is to be feared, however, that it has 
now become a memory of the past, and as Town and 'Varsity 
are natural allies, nothing but resolute conservatism and the love 
of fight could account for its long existence. These rows were 
sometimes acute, and in our fathers' days a certain undergraduate 
was taken down a court and there slain with a spade; the 
Christ's men hurled beer-bottles from their college roof onto the 
heads of the mob with much effect, and the vice-chancellor with 
difficulty restored order, confining the men to their colleges after 
dusk, and threatening to send the whole university down. But 
the writer's experiences were of comedy rather than of gory 
tragedy. On the night of the fifth of November, the day sacred 
to Town and Gown mills and Guy Fawkes celebrations, some of 
us were talking in a man's rooms when appeared the pet of the 
college, only seventeen, and a sprightly Irishman, the former with 
his jaw dislocated and the other with one eye bunged up and 
black as Erebus from the stroke of a stone in a stocking. He 
asked for a Fides Achates to accompany him to his brother at 
Caius (a medical- student), that the damaged optic might be 
tended. Smelling the battle afar off, to pitch on one's gown and 
accompany him was an impulse. By retired lanes and shady 
passages the medico's rooms were gained, but he was elsewhere, 
no doubt in the streets nobly providing cases for the hospital. 
VOL. XLIX. 47 






73O 'VARSITY REMINISCENCES. [Sept., 

So we sought another doctor, and falling in with a friendly party 
of gownsmen, who were keeping five times their number at 
bay, gained our destination, stones whizzing round our ears and 
a charge en masse evidently impending. At length, our pockets 
full of liniments and cordials, we bent our steps towards college, 
the roar of the fight behind us, we conversing on peaceful 
themes. Suddenly we were closed in by a dozen hulking fel- 
lows of sinister aspect, and nothing remained but to pull one's 
self together and die game, for Town has no mercy. But Erin's 
ready wit effected our salvation, for our Irishman accosted the 
leader, vowed he loved a little fun as much as any, but had had 
enough for once, and removing his bandage, displayed his wound; 
with many a big, big D (and B) the captain vowed we had had 
enough, and ordered that we should pass. 

A friend who lodged at a butcher's, hearing a row in the street, 
looked out and beheld a mob unmercifully pounding a solitary 
Magdalen man ; as in duty bound, he rushed to the rescue and 
liberated the victim, drawing down on himself thereby the con- 
centrated fury of the roughs. Overpowered, he retreated to his 
rooms, and from his steaming kettle anointed his assailants. This 
evoked divers shrieks, but failed to disperse the crowd, so he 
emptied the coal-scuttle onto their heads a false move, as it 
provided them with missiles. The landlord, an ex-bruiser, became 
interested on hearing his windows smashing, and sallying forth, 
soon stretched half the storming party on their backs in the road- 
way, and the rest sought safety in ignominious flight. Little real 
harm was done ; a Corpus man was knocked silly, but revived 
next morning, and all were in condition for the second innings, 
which used to take place on the Qth. 

Could Gown now fight as it did, even were it permitted ? Two 
years ago, when revisiting old haunts, we saw with wonderment 
every third undergrad bedecked with pince-nez or spectacles ; eye- 
glasses would surely fare ill in a fistic encounter. We lately 
watched the start of the Oxford and Cambridge boat-race at Put- 
ney, and heard a bargee thus bespeak two or three bespectacled 
oarsmen in the Oxford boat: "Take off them barnacles, guv'nors; 
you can row without them, and it don't look manly, anyways." 
We are grown very scientific, and very broad-minded, and very 
self-satisfied. Question for the Little Go : Will our competitive 
examination system produce a fresh crop of Waterloo and Trafalgar 
heroes ? 

There was plenty of hard study, but also fun galore, at the 
'Varsity; many cared for little else, and, at any rate, they placed 



889.] ' VARSITY REMINISCENCES. 



73 



three jolly years to the credit side of the ledger. Every one 
subscribed to his college boat-club whether he rowed or not, and 
most used as ordinary head-dress its distinctive straw hat and 
ribbon. Crews for the various eights for next day were made up 
by the captains after hall, and the different boats' crews, with 
hour of starting, were posted, with other notices, on the hall door 
or screens. Of an afternoon the streets were gay with oarsmen 
in flannels going to or from their boat-houses, the scarlet jacket of 
the Lady Margaret (the Johnian -boat-club), and the equally showy 
magenta of Corpus and Emmanuel, being notably conspicuous. 
Queen's was verdant in green and gold, King's displayed purple, 
and Downing brown; but nothing looked better than the quiet 
white of Jesus, Third Trinity, or Trinity Hall, a simple binding in 
their honorable colors alone distinguishing them. Then there was 
the " Ancient Mariners," an eight composed of graduates, and 
often did we admire the stalwart figure of Henry Fawcett, the 
late postmaster-general, giving the stroke to this crew, showing 
that the mischance which had deprived him of sight was power- 
less to destroy in him the zest for life. In the October term 
freshmen were coached in rowing, and towards its close the " trial 
eights ' was rowed on the Ouse at Ely, seventeen miles off, where 
the straight, broad river provided a suitable course on which to 
test promising young oars and guide the authorities in filling 
vacant seats in the university boat, to contend with Oxford on 
the Thames at Easter. 

Oh! the memories that come thronging back. There was the 
old schoolfellow at Pembroke, his sideboard groaning beneath a 
long array of racing-cups, that for the jump of twenty-three feet 
seven inches specially demanding notice. Then the 'Varsity cox, 
who steered the boat three different times, and when he came up 
only weighed seventy pounds. On asking the bed-maker for his 
set of rooms, she only jeered at him, telling him to return to 
school and come back in four or five years' time ; yet he gained 
distinction all his own, though the violent language he addressed 
to his crew would not have been tolerated in a less accomplished 
helmsman. It saddens one to dwell on these themes, when each 
memory recalls a dozen others ; the world was young, at least 
for us, in those days, and its evil and hardnesses hardly known. 
And so we will- conclude. Why continue to evoke the ghosts 
of the past, which only 

"Reminds me of departed* joys, 
Departed never to return" ? 



732 CLUES TO ANCIENT AMERICAN ARCHITECTURE. [Sept., 

But haply those placid years, passed with true comrades and kindly 
seniors, and overshadowed by the noble memories of the place, 
have had an influence for good on some of us that we hardly 
suspect, and thus have helped forward the accomplishment of the 
generous intentions of the founders, whose memories will ever be 
green so long as the monuments their piety has reared shall 
continue. CHARLES E. HODSON. 




CLUES TO ANCIENT AMERICAN ARCHITECTURE. 

THE late activity of a clique of sophists intent on belittling 
the grandeur of the ancient Central American civilization has 
had one good effect, to revive the interest of scholars in that sub- 
ject. The attempt, however, to ignore the mute evidence of the 
most imposing ruins on the new continent, and to belie the thou- 
sands of eye-witnesses among conquerers and colonists, upon 
whose testimony that civilization has for over three centuries 
stood unquestioned among us, is manifestly biased and hasty, as 
Hubert H. Bancroft so ably demonstrates in his Early American 
Chroniclers, sustained by the overwhelming array of evidence 
massed within his Native Races, the recognized standard work on 
Western and Central American aborigines. I here propose mere- 
ly to point out some overlooked or neglected principles and 
qualities in the architectural relics, which may assist both to re- 
fute the new chimerical theory and to encourage wider investiga- 
tions in a field so full of still unsolved mysteries. 

Many students have no doubt been guided by the verdict of 
the learned Rau on Palenquean art, forgetting that Palenque pre- 
sents only one among a number of types. Others may have 
been puzzled by the contradictory expressions of travellers, say 
to Mitla presenting one more distinct type here in ecstasy 
over the beauty and variety of facade frets, there sneering at 
poverty and monotony. Both sides were here in the wrong, the 
one in gazing only at details, the other in casting a prejudiced 
glance at the ensemble. I well understand, with Humboldt, that 
appreciation need not be wasted on mere rhythmic repetition of 
form, but there is room for great possibilities when the designs 
are rich and varied. Masters occasionally make hasty or one- 
sided statements. Great was my surprise on beholding in the 
chief gallery at Venice a certain picture, extolled by Ruskin as 
one of the greatest masterpieces, but whose glaringly crude draw- 



1889.] CLUES TO ANCIENT AMERICAN ARCHITECTURE. 733 

ing is there a standing source for ridicule of fitful or dreamy 
judgment. 

Limited sparce forbids more than brief comments on the most sa- 
lient points, such as the grade of excellence in ruins; main features; 
principles underlying the construction of pyramids and dwellings ; 
climatic influence on custom, and consequently on the character of 
buildings; religious, intertribal, and foreign influences; the pre- 
dominating tone in sculpture ; rhythm, asymmetry, and symbolism. 

The first aspect of American ruins gives the impression not 
so much that they are cyclopean, according to Viollet le Due, as 
ponderous; for the true cyclopean form is not common here. 
But, while the term applies to monuments all over the continent, 
there is a vast difference in grade between those of the temperate 
north and those of the semi-tropic zone; between the rude 
mounds of the roaming tribes, and the finished pyramids of the 
southern settled nations, surmounted by artistic palaces. Archi- 
tectural remains of the highest type are concentrated around the 
Usumasinta. Thence they spread in somewhat varying though 
cognate form northward to the Mexican lakes and southward into 
Guatemala, beyond which they dwindle, in Nicaragua, on one 
side, to irregular mounds of unhewn stone, in Zacatecas, on the 
other, to plain structures with undecorated fagades. Still further 
they decline, in New Mexico, to common adobe blocks and rude 
cliff dwellings fashioned by pure necessity, and beyond these to 
mere earthen mounds. This comparison alone might suffice to 
point the vast difference between the cultured Mayas and the 
savage hunting tribes, whom the new theory seeks to place on 
a level. The Nahuas and Mayas rise above the rank of barbar- 
ians by virtue of their advanced political, urban and class organ- 
ization, their councils and academies for the development of 
oratory, poetry, music, and other arts, their astronomic attain- 
ments, their picture-writing, which had entered the phonetic stage 
and served to keep historic records, with designation of names 
and abstract words a crowning stamp of culture. 

The pyramid, the most striking feature of Maya architecture, 
departs frequently from the purely artificial structure of cut stone, 
with more or less rubble filling, to avail itself of cut and faced 
hills. In order to better understand the raison-d'etre thereof, it 
is less needful to assume that it differed from the Egyptian, or the 
more similar Chaldean, in lacking such main features of the Nile 
type as the monumental stamp and astronomic construction. We 
have primarily to recognize that it was the general custom in 
civilized America to found buildings on artificial elevations. This 



734 CLUES TO ANCIENT AMERICAN ARCHITECTURE. [Sept., 

suffices to explain why the pyramid here was truncated, oft irreg- 
ular, and so forth. It was truncated to support edifices. The 
pointed, and probably monumental, pyramid is a rare exception, 
as at Ococingo. Irregularity of form is occasionally due to the 
slope of the ground, as instanced by the Governor's structure at 
Uxmal. At Copan the side fronting on the river is vertical, the 
others sloping. As a rule the character of the summit edifice and 
the builder's taste determined the shape, in steepness, stages, 
angularity, height, and so forth. Steepness was undoubtedly con- 
sidered for strategic, purposes, since pyramids presented admirable 
advantages for defence during the frequent wars. Those at Mexico 
and Cholula were the scenes of many a struggle between Spanish 
conquerors and natives. The Dwarfs pyramid at Uxmal was so 
steep as to be difficult to descend, observes Bishop Landa. At 
Copan and at Centla, in Vera Cruz, the latter a fortress, some 
sides were steeper than others. Klemm gives such importance to 
the military aspect as to assume that the structures originated in 
the defensive earthworks cast up round camps; but this is ques- 
tionable in view of the above fundamental idea. Yucatan affected 
the step form, or pyramids in retreating stages, usually three or 
four ; Palenque adhered to the regular slope, while the Nahuas 
indulged in several varieties. The terrace form suited the tem- 
ples, since it afforded the people below a view from all sides of the 
impressive processions when winding their way up. At Papantla 
sloping and perpendicular outlines are combined in the seven 
different stages. At Guiengola we find a perpendicular base taper- 
ing to a dome. At Tulom, and frequently in Vera Cruz, lines 
strive for the perpendicular, and finally, at Mitla and Xochimilco, 
they pass to the other extreme, to inverted pyramids, with bases 
narrower than the upper parts. The rectangular parallelogram 
predominates, less frequently in square form ; yet rounded corners 
and other departures are not uncommon. The rank of the owner, 
together with the character of the summit structure, must be re- 
garded as the chief factors in determining the height of the 
pyramid, palaces being the most elevated among civil buildings, 
and temples rising as a rule above surrounding edifices, to em- 
phasize divine and religious supremacy. The higher pyramids 
range between eighty and one hundred feet, as at Uxmal, Tical, 
Xcoch, and Copan ; yet the triple terrace structure at Utatlan is 
placed at a hundred and twenty feet, and Nohpat's sloping mound 
at one hundred and fifty feet. The same factor, together with the 
terrace form, assisted to determine the position of the stairway. 
At temples we find the ascent usually on the west, so that wor- 



1889.] CLUES TO ANCIENT AMERICAN ARCHITECTURE. 735 

shippers might face both the sanctuary and the rising sun, which 
occupied so prominent a part in the cult. At Mexico the ascent 
was broken at each terrace, so that the procession of chanting 
priests had to pass entirely round the pyramid to gain each suc- 
ceeding flight. The pyramid served likewise for tombs, partic- 
ularly at Teotihuacan ; the king, as high-priest, and perhaps 
other personages, being allowed to rest in the shadow of divinity. 
The great pyramid at Palenque, and certain others, contained 
chambers and galleries, which may have been used for dungeons 
or treasure vaults. The valuables deposited with the dead were 
no less potent than fanaticism and desire for ready building mater- 
ial, among the conquerors, in prompting the demolition of so many 
pyramids known only to tradition, notary that of Tenochtitlan. 

The political and ecclesiastical despotism indicated by the erec- 
tion of such huge structures may be traced also in the form and 
location of cities, for which pyramids were centres. Among 
Mayas and Nahuas, Quiches or Aztecs, their foundation is ever 
connected with divine oracles. Yet sagacious foresight was re- 
quired to render palatable and respected the paramount religious 
dictum. Thus we find Mexico planted midst the waters, for rea- 
sons not unlike those governing the Venetian founders ; Misteca- 
pan within the sheltering fold of ranges; Yucatec cities in close 
proximity to assuaging cenotes, and elsewhere with a view to 
command a fertile soil and dense population. The last two factors 
served here, as in Egypt, both to originate and perpetuate despot- 
ism in the call for organized direction of ignorant masses. The 
religious influence is affirmed by the existence of a number of 
holy centres, at Cholula, at Palenque, in Nicaragua, and elsewhere. 
Many of the ruins on the Usumasinta, and east and south of it, 
are utterly devoid of warlike relics, in implements or decorations, 
and in Yucatan strategic features seem to have been little studied 
by city founders. The only walled town appears to be Tulom. 
Orientation is observable in connection with most temples, but 
beyond that it is so inexact as to be questionable. As regards 
intertribal influence, trade served widely to pioneer military sway 
as well as peaceful intercourse, with marked effect on art and 
manners. We know from their traditions and picture records that 
the Aztecs penetrated far to the south, and Nicaraguan hiero- 
glyphics and figures certainly abound with unmistakable Nahua 
types. Impressions on and by intermediate nations can, therefore, 
be confidently traced in existing ruins, despite the restrictions on 
form imposed by conservative powers. , 

That transoceanic influence has left its mark is not improb- 



736 CLUES TO ANCIENT AMERICAN ARCHITECTURE. [Sept., 

able. Traditions of foreign visitors existed in different quarters ; 
bearded faces are found among sculptured figures ; traffic seems to 
have been carried on between northwestern Alaska and the op- 
posite Asiatic land ; numerous instances are recorded within mod- 
ern times of vessels having drifted across from Asia, to assist in 
maintaining the claim by French and American writers in behalf 
of an early Chinese expedition to the Pacific shores of America ; 
clearer than this is the discovery of the northeast coast by the 
Northmen. These indications of extraneous intercourse are too 
feeble, however, to permit the assumption of any marked effect 
therefrom. The civilization here may safely be termed autoch- 
thonic in its unfolding, the more so as the northeast and north- 
west coasts, which fell more directly under such foreign influence, 
show little or no trace thereof. The natural conditions, environ- 
ment, which mould development, were here exceedingly powerful, 
be it remembered, as evident in the great longitudinal expanse of 
the continent and the abrupt rise of plateaux, with the conse- 
quent variety in climate and geology, and the compulsory meri- 
ditional trend of civilizing traffic not merely along similar latitudi- 
nal lines ; and herein lies a vast fund for observations on the 
origin as well as development of American culture, into which I 
at one time dipped with much profit. 

The arch ranks perhaps next to the pyramid as a striking 
feature, both on account of its wide use and its peculiar form. 
The ceilings of existing stone buildings, notably among the Mayas, 
are nearly all vaulted to sustain the permanent roof. True, the 
arch belongs to the overlapping grade, but even the Greeks did 
not pass that stage. The greater the superimposed weight the 
more acute is the arch, and at Xul is a room wherein the walls 
actually meet at the soffit. In Yucatan the overlapping edges of 
the stones are bevelled so as to present a straight slope, like that 
at Tiryns, near Mycenae. At Palenque we find the stones arranged 
and rounded to form trefoil and cinque-foil arches and niches, ce- 
ment replacing bevelling for even surfaces. At Lorillard and Labua 
are gateways and apertures the archivolt of which resembles the 
Egypto-Arabic and Persian, or turns to a convex shape. These 
variations indicate a groping approach toward the true arch. Thus, 
at the Bird-house of Uxmal is an arch in which the stones in- 
cline more and more to the vertical as the sides approach, yet 
without uniting at a keystone. The upper interior corner of the 
more vertical stones is cut out, in elbow-shape, for obtaining a 
better hold on the superincumbent mass. At Metlaltoyuca, Vera 
Cruz, are mounds faced with stones in regular arch form, but 



1889.] CLUES TO ANCIENT AMERICAN ARCHITECTURE. 737 

they were evidently not intended to be self-supporting. Somewhat 
similar facings are found at Xochicalco and elsewhere, in connec- 
tion with tombs and reservoirs, some of the latter supplied by 
imposing aqueducts stretching for miles over the rolling country. 
In the Tehuantepec district is a bridge arch of two curved slabs 
meeting at its centre, and at Huejutla is a triangular bridge span 
of vertical stones, which may in truth be termed a keystone arch. 
Its antiquity is questioned, however. These several instances give 
promise that the complemental step would soon have been taken. 

The heavy arch construction points here to the shell wall with 
filling, or the ashlar-faced rubble mass, a stage which the Ro- 
mans did not attain for several centuries. The Aryan dry ma- 
sonry is not uncommon, with remarkably close laying, and there 
are traces of the timber type ; still, the mortar method prevails, 
and of an excellence which betokens long and observing practice. 
Plaster varies in quality according to its use for fine or rough 
surfaces. The transportation of huge stones requires investigation 
here as in Egypt ; likewise the flint and other implements with 
which they were so readily fashioned and on so large a scale. At 
Copan and other places, richer than Yucatan in timber, the substitu- 
tion of perishable beams for arches has been the cause of wide decay. 

The rarity of buildings in more than one real story may be 
due partly to seismic disturbances, which were so common on 
the west coast, at least, although the prevailing outdoor life and 
other customs must have wielded a stronger influence. A real 
two-story structure exists at Tulom, and the Mayan Tower stands 
in evidence. Nevertheless, the Nahuas had gained a step on the 
older Central American architects, for in Mexico such buildings 
were less uncommon. The Maya stories are properly in receding 
form, the upper story resting on a solid base to the rear of the 
lower, as illustrated in particular by the use of terraced hill-slopes 
for such bases. At Yacha Lake is a five-story edifice of this 
class. The stairway is naturally outside. Kabah has a daringly 
isolated perron of overlapping stones, with a clear triangular 
space beneath. Chichen boasts of a winding flight Inside stair- 
ways do exist, however, also among the Mayas, as in the three- 
story house at Lapphak. 

The preceding paragraph touches upon the climatic influence 
which is so widely impressed on architecture. The outdoor life 
promoted by a dry and mild atmosphere should be considered as 
the main reason for several essential features in the buildings, as low 
stories, rarity of windows, and absence of hearths. For temporary 
occupation, or night repose, low and small rooms were evidently 



738 CLUES TO ANCIENT AMERICAN ARCHITECTURE, [Sept., 

regarded as sufficient. The imperfect roof construction, in confin- 
ing rooms to narrow limits, tended also to curtail their length in 
proportion. The neglect of interior decoration is likewise addi- 
tionally explained by the darkness of the little used recesses. 
The assignment of the kitchen to a special outside space is at- 
tributable, not alone to a warm atmosphere and faulty ventilation,, 
but to the belief that fires in close rooms rendered them un- 
healthy a belief from which visitors to Mexico suffer no slight 
discomfort,* even to-day. The first attempts to kindle fires in 
these stone houses naturally produced a repugnant and unhealthy 
dampness. The inflammable material of the huts among the 
masses interposed another obstacle. As in all warm countries, 
fountains are common, likewise galleries and covered walks, and 
the value as well as beauty of cornices were not overlooked. 
Rooms being intended chiefly for occupation by night, window- 
openings were generally absent, the door or a roof-aperture supply- 
ing both light and ventilation. Balconies are correspondingly rare. 
As among Spaniards, the flat roof became a private open-air resort. 

The demand on the door for supplying light and ventilation 
may account for its frequent tan form, since the two upper 
corners of the tau admitted air and light when the main entrance 
was closed by the curtains used for that purpose. The curtain 
hung usually by means of rings on a pole, which probably rested 
on the shoulders of the tau, although in some cases special 
hinges or supports were provided. In this and many other 
instances writers have preferred to grope for a mystic interpreta- 
tion, without even considering a matter-of-fact explanation. As 
the needful precedes the ornamental and symbolic, so the sacred 
meaning may, in course of time, have been applied to this par- 
ticular tau form, as the pathway for divine light and air, aside 
from its resemblance to the cross. 

Columns were in frequent use for galleries and open 
structures, as indicated by remains especially at Uxmal and Ake, 
and still more so for ornament. At Mitla is a rare instance of 
their application as supports for a central roof-beam. They are 
both round and square, commonly of several pieces or of masonry, 
and as a rule heavy plain shafts. Specimens of large round 
.sections with central tenons have been found, ten-feet monoliths 
are not lacking, and at Mitla, Chunhuhu, and Tula exist carya- 
tides, or rather Atlantes. Among* complementary parts the cap 
is noticeable at Chichen and Kabah, and at the ancient Toltec 
centre a corbeil capital, rising from a band, gives token that a 
Mexican Callimachus might, in time, have arisen. Pillars are 






1889.] CLUES TO ANCIENT AMERICAN ARCHITECTURE. 739 

frequently sculptured, as at Chichen ; and at Copan, if we chose 
to include the famous stelae. 

As in Egypt, under similar conventional regulations, sculpture 
was checked in development by its additional subordination to 
architecture. This is apparent in the inequality of the execution 
on all sides, and in the indiscriminate selection of good and bad 
carvings for the same fa?ade. Nevertheless, the art had attained 
to the possession of a special patron deity. Under such condi- 
tions the nude was neglected, and preference given to heavy, 
draped forms, that is in the civilized centres, for in Nicaragua a 
predominant phallic idea turns to the other extreme. Drapery 
may therefore be regarded as the chrysalis stage, whence, in due 
time, was to issue the higher ideal. The chief aim so far, be it 
noted, was not beauty, as in free Hellas, but the presentation of 
the historic and emblematic. The prevalence of the low relief, or 
incision, greatly due to imperfect tools, tended to affirm the pro- 
file delineation, as both clearer and easier. Even where the body 
is occasionally depicted in full front, feet and head remain in 1 
profile. At Lorillard this archaic distortion is extended so far as 
to turn the feet to both sides. 

The retreating forehead on Maya figures has been the source 
of much error, especially in ascribing a foreign origin and a great 
age to the ruins ; under the impression that the flat-head repre- 
sented a race different from the present occupants of the land. 
The artificial compression of the forehead has been applied in so 
many regions of America to distinguish superior rank that it 
hardly requires local tradition here to identify it with nobility. 
Although nobles had the precedence, and often the exclusive right 
to be commemorated in stone, yet straight and regular profiles 
exist both at Palenque and Chichen, while at Copan and beyond, 
on either side of the Mayas, the present type prevails. 

Bearing in mind that the aim here was rarely for portraits or 
ideals, in our sense, but for symbolic figures, many defects and 
objections disappear and many peculiarities become clear, such as 
the preference for depicting the human face in repose, devoid of 
animation even when the body appears in action, emotions and 
other details being explained in the all-significant mask or head- 
dress, in symbols and hieroglyphics. Therein lies also a reason for 
the neglect of the nude. This accords with the prevalent conven- 
tionality, and is as sound as to assume incapacity on the part of 
the artist, for proofs exist in animal and monster figures of ability * 
to impart expression. A sufficient number of human figures like- 
wise sustain the artistic range. At Palenque may be found many 



740 CLUES TO ANCIENT AMERICAN ARCHITECTURE. [Sept., 

a spirited and free figure. At Copan is a head which observers 
declare equal to the best ever discovered in Egypt In inferior 
Nicaragua are several good representations of muscular exertion, 
of sleep, and of terror, with distended or closed eyes, projecting 
eyebrows, and so forth. Moreover, many portions of the body 
are well modelled. The limbs at Palenque have been widely ad- 
mired. Those at Lorillard are still finer, with exquisitely moulded 
hands whereon the nails are accurately outlined. At Copan the 
iris and the roots of the hair are minutely engraven. Instance 
also the priestly figures arrayed in the flayed skin of human vic- 
tims. In these different features lies evidence of progress which is 
further illustrated by the expansion of the rude statue columns in 
Nicaragua to medium or high relief stelae at Copan, and in 
Yucatan to free statues. At Palenque we find the ear in natural 
form, although elsewhere it appears in conventional distortion, 
probably for symbolic reasons, as with the Incas, among whom 
enlarged ears denoted nobility. The lack of fine specimens of 
sculpture in some quarters, as in Utatlan, is chiefly due to vandalism 
on the part of misguided patriots as well as fanatical invaders. 

The preceding instances of inequality serve to affirm the 
supremacy of the symbolic in sculpture, much more so than 
among the Hindoos, whose formalism had been widely overcome. 
A movement which in the Orient took the direction of soft lan- 
gour, in accordance with climate and religion, passed here to the 
monstrous. The fear and abasement impressed by bloody cult 
and tyranny became typified and even idealized, until the artist, 
like Pauson, found delight in portraying the horrible. The ad- 
dictedness to chimeric deformity, however, lies not altogether in 
artistic conception, but largely in the custom among the lowly to 
turn their gaze from the exalted, whose public effigy accordingly 
appeared in masks emblematic of their attributes, particularly of 
intimidating power. Further, an artist was not supposed to be 
capable of delineating the features of divine beings. The Greek, 
striving for composite beauty; the Platonist, intent on a dim, pre- 
mundane type, likewise donned the veil, although rather when 
passing the limits of grace. Masking extended largely to classes. 
Satisfied with a conventional face, the artist left individual attri- 
butes in this case to be depicted chiefly in the head-dress. The 
tiger and eagle hoods so frequent among Aztecs refer to leading 
military orders as well as to virtues. In Nicaragua the idea de- 
generated into placing the head within the jaws of the beast. 
The Egyptians simply assigned a symbolic animal head to the 
human body, and vice versa. 



1889.] CLUES TO ANCIENT AMERICAN ARCHITECTURE. 741 

The subordination of sculpture to architecture and to symbol- 
ism lifts here to considerable importance the other branches of 
plastic art, so that a view of the ensemble is necessary before 
judgment can be pronounced. The Arabs in Spain have not been 
stigmatized as barbaric because they failed in animate forms. 
Their botanic and geometric designs are universally admired for 
artistic beauty. Turn, then, to similar art among the Mayas and 
Nahuas, and behold the infinite variety of outline, the richness, 
the taste. Pass from supremely grand Uxmal to inferior Mitla, 
and find fret decorations which Viollet le Due declared equal to 
the best Greek or Roman specimens in beauty and symmetry. 
Even if prudently modifying such praise, we may safely conclude 
that in the great variety of designs, the fertility of invention, lay 
immense possibilities awaiting the strides of emulation. 

The broad feature in Yucatec wall-decoration is lattice and 
diamond work as a background for other designs, usually divided 
into panels. Lines and animal forms predominate, botanic out- 
lines being rare. Entire facades are at times filled with animal 
heads and bodies. The divine snake takes precedence, in promi- 
nence at least, tigers being probably most numerous for obvious 
reasons, confounded as they moreover are with somewhat similar 
beasts. Charnay found both on the Chichen gymnasium in con- 
nection with the fox and eagle, all symbolic of its aims. In 
several instances the snake enfolds the entire fa9ade or building. 
Both the crocodile and turtle are cherished far down into Nica- 
ragua ; a fine structure is dedicated to the latter at Uxmal. The 
toad, monkey, and other animals swell the list. Lines vary from 
plain engrailed or invected to dancettes and lozenge mouldings ; 
from simple generating frets to Greek, interlaced and meander or 
maze work, with battled crenelle and other variations ; chevrons 
and grecques are favorites ; ovals or eggs and guilloches are 
common ; also palisades and colonnades, together with rosettes and 
diaper-work. In their repetition must often be sought a mystic 
significance, as with sacred numbers. Many of the designs have 
been sculptured in situ, others fitted by the builders ; stucco orna- 
ments are as common, almost exclusively so, at Palenque as they 
are rare at Yucatan. At several places, notably Mitla, the frets 
form a wall mosaic embedded in cement. A miniature specimen 
of such mosaic-work may be seen at the British Museum in the 
handle of an obsidian knife, representing a crouching masked man 
of chameleon-like aspect. The facades were generally painted, as 
in Greece, red predominating, it seems. Gem-carving had reached 
the highest state of perfection, as may be judged from the un- 



742 CLUES TO AA T CIENT AMERICAN ARCHITECTURE. [Sept, 

affected admiration of the Spaniards for the fanciful and artistic 
work of Mexican jewellers in general, and from the approval of 
Lenoir, who places even inferior Aztec art above the Egyptian in 
several respects. 

The cross symbol here stands more closely connected with 
phallic objects than is usually the case, notwithstanding its uni- 
versal phallic origin. It occurs frequently in the corresponding 
position on vestments, with or without ovae, and occasionally with 
masked heads at the extremes, or even enclosing heads and entire 
human figures. An examination of the Palenque tablet with this 
direct application will reveal many new features. Palenque is 
otherwise reserved in this respect, exceptionally so when we ob- 
serve the little disguise practised in surrounding districts. In 
several courts at Uxmal and elsewhere it is more clearly repre- 
sented than in the well-known Hindostan pillar. On the Dwarfs 
pyramid it is exhibited in the most erect form, which, together 
with height and peculiar steepness of that structure, tend to give 
it a significance so far overlooked. Minor relics of stone, terra- 
cotta, and metal, similar to those which tourists inspect in the 
reserved Pompeian chamber at the Naples Museum, are numerous 
in all quarters. In Nicaragua and Costa Rica the larger propor- 
tion of the public statues are conspicuously sculptured in the 
above manner. 

The decoration described as the elephant trunk, so puzzling 
to antiquarians, may with good reason be regarded as phallic, in 
slight distortion like most symbolic figures here. The wide adop- 
tion of the cross idea, especially in Yucatan where the trunk oc- 
curs, is one testimony. Another is the egg and cross engraving 
on several of the trunks, as shown on the sun facade of the 
Uxmal nunnery. The phallic attribute of Helios, be it noted, is 
as clearly appreciated here as in the Danae myth of Greece, par- 
ticularly at Uxmal, .so full of similar fancies. That the trunk is 
raised toward the east and reversed at the west, as Waldeck ob- 
served, is a phallic feature, for life comes with the rising sun arid 
decrepitude with its decline. The reversal is clearly symbolic. 
Curved lines similar to the trunk occur on Copan stelae, and on 
other statues, at or near the phallic position. The trunk append- 
age to mask faces at Chichen may be regarded as a symbolic 
union of two main features, for such distorted combinations are 
well known to students of Nahua art and mythology. This com- 
bination, however, points also to another interpretation of the 
trunk as emblematic of speech, of oratory, which was here so 
highly esteemed. Indeed, the curves denoting speech on Nahua 



1889.] CLUES TO ANCIENT AMERICAN ARCHITECTURE. 743 

pictographs are very similar to the trunk, as are the curves and 
tongues on certain Oajacan figures. 

The symbolic curves are frequent on head-dresses. If the ora- 
torical idea be applied to the reversed trunks at Uxmal, it might 
be so in a hail and vale to the all-inspiring, life-giving sun, and 
in explaining the object of the building as council-hall or academy. 

While the richness and variety of design must evoke ad- 
miration, the ensemble reveals, as in the Orient, a frequent ex- 
cess of ornament. At the same time an adjoining facade may 
present a pattern of graceful simplicity, as instanced by the Ux- 
mal nunnery. Even at the more classic Palenque symmetry is 
glaringly neglected in architecture as well as sculpture. It must 
be remembered, however, that symmetry is a variable essence of 
excellence. It is strongest in classic art in being applied to both 
details and masses, but it reaches a higher development in the 
Gothic, where variation in details is combined with symmetry of 
masses. In China symmetry of the whole is subordinate to varia- 
tion in detail, yet Kathay is not barbaric : she studied asymme- 
try, as Mitla has done. Mitla has gone further than other districts 
of Central America in this respect, yet neither stand below the 
Mongolian range with its fantastic extravagance and irregularity. 
In accordance, then, with the preceding explanation of under- 
lying principles and motives the widely-echoed utterance of Pro- 
fessor Rau, "that the lines at Palenque are faulty in rectitude, 
the design in symmetry, and the sculpture in finish," must not be 
indiscriminately applied; the more so as his condemnation is local, 
without reference to the grandeur, taste, and beauty displayed at 
several other places of different type, notably Uxmal. Still less 
applicable is the sweeping levelling of these relics to one common 
"savage standard" for all America, as required by the "new 
theory." One clear comparative glance at the respective stages 
of culture suffices for rejecting that chimera. 

In judging of Maya and Nahua art, we must regard not alone 
figures, but geometric lines ; not merely details, but the ensemble ; 
not one type, but several. We must consider the aim and motives 
of the artist, as well as the conventional restrictions and natural 
trammels on art ; and, in addition to the peculiar influence of cli- 
matic and social environment, we must take into account the sub- 
ordination of symmetry and other forms of beauty, and the predom- 
inance of symbolism. In short, we must apply a broad, liberal 
comparison, limited not to a European standard, but tempered by 
the Oriental models, which, under varying conditions, sprang from 
. out the same eastern cradle of art. W. NEMOS. 



744 B Y THE RAPIDAN. [Sept, 



BY THE RAPIDAN. 

PROLOGUE. 

IN the days of the thirties, when the theme of public interest 
that most stirred the people of Virginia was the contest between 
the supporters and the opponents of Andrew Jackson, and bitter 
feeling had so entered into the discussion that even kith and kin 
were divided, two at least of the leading families of Orange 
County maintained their natural good temper and kept up their 
old-time neighborly good will, though none differed more de- 
cidedly in politics. Each of these families had but one child, a 
son, and these boys had grown up in the closest companionship 
which could result from congenial temperaments and dispositions 
and 'equality of age. Walter Ormond and Gregory Lynch had 
indulged in boyish games and pranks, and, later on, in youthful 
sports together. They had hunted and fished, had ridden their 
own horses in friendly rivalry at the quarter races at Stevensburg, 
on the other side of the Rapidan, and had reached their majority, 
and passed it, without once having had a cross purpose between 
them. 

But a young lady from beyond the Blue Ridge had come with 
her father on a visit to some of his relatives, and she had smiled 
with nearly equal benignity on the two young friends, whose ac- 
quaintance she had made at a dance given in her honor by all 
the people thereabout. These young men had, in their turn, done 
their best to make her think well of Orange County, and had 
together listened with charmed ears to her fluent account -of the 
stage journey by which she had come from her home, through 
Winchester, Front Royal, across the Blue Ridge by Chester Gap, 
and thence along the eastern slope of the mountains to the Sul- 
phur Springs near the head of the Rappahannock, where also, 
during a stay of some weeks, she must no doubt have produced 
a very favorable impression if there were at the springs any such 
impressionable young fellows as Lynch and Ormond. 

The long and short of it was that both fell head, neck, and 
heels in love with the girl, and she, much pleased with both of 
them, chose one after much coquettish deliberation, and had, of 
course, to reject the other. The rejected one, Walter Ormond, 
imagining himself to be broken-hearted, and, therefore, unable 



1889.] BY THE RAPIDAN. 



745 



longer to bear the sight of the land where he was born, bade 
good-by to his sorrowing parents, and with a full purse, a good 
horse, and, if allowance be made for the condition of his heart, 
with a sound and buoyant young health, set out for the boundless 
West in quest of adventure and fortune. 

I. 

One of the most famous of the training camps during the first 
summer of the Civil War was Camp Dennison, which Ohio had 
opened in April, close to the banks of the Little Miami River and 
fifteen miles to the northeast of Cincinnati. It was situated on a 
level plain of about eight hundred acres that had been planted 
with wheat that season, but that had now ripened, like the 
dragon's teeth of the ancient fable, into armed men. From all 
parts of Ohio regiments of infantry and batteries of artillery came 
to be drilled and equipped before being sent out into the field to 
fight. They came without uniforms ; every man in his own 
clothes some dressed in the highest fashion of the time, others 
in the rough apparel of farmers, others in the every-day garb of 
business men, clerks, or salesmen, or mechanics ; many in work- 
men's overalls. Their dress, like themselves, represented the 
American people in arms to defend the Union. 

Their camp life had been for weeks as strange as their dress. 
Sentinels walked the beats with as much precision as any of the 
Old-World household guards could have displayed, but without 
arms, though sometimes cornstalks were carried in lieu of mus- 
kets, and the most ceremonious of salutes made with them when- 
ever an officer entitled to the sentinel's salute would pass by. 
Indeed, it was not rare then to see officers themselves, when on 
duty, bearing wooden swords with as much dignity, if not as 
much skill, as they afterwards showed when carrying real weapons. 

But all this had been changed by the Fourth of July, 1861. 
The volunteers, and there were ten thousand or. more of them in 
the camp, were now beginning to look really like an army, for 
the government had at last provided them with uniforms, if not 
yet with arms. The ground had meanwhile been so well trodden 
down by the feet of these thousands of willing students, learning 
the first elements of the art of war, as prescribed in Hardecs 
Tactics, daily marching, wheeling, and countermarching over it, 
that, as the volunteers themselves used to say, they were now 
the only " green " things in sight at Camp Dennison. As the 
Fourth of July night closed in bonfires had been lit on the open 

VOL. XT.IX.--4IS 



746 BY THE RAPID AN. [Sept., 

parade grounds in front of each regiment, and the sparks from 
the fires fluttered up through the warm air towards the quiet 
stars that spangled the heavens. The soldiers' quarters, wooden 
shanties laid out in serried ranks of company streets, and extending 
up and down for half a mile on either side of the railroad track, 
from which they were distant the width of the parades, stood 
out in the glare of the fires almost as distinctly as if it were day. 

The whole camp was awake, although " tattoo ' and " taps ' 
had been sounded by the fifes and drums. Brass bands were 
playing the " Star- Spangled Banner," "John Brown's Body," 
"Bould Sojer Boy," "The Girl I Left Behind Me," and other 
patriotic, military, or sentimental tunes. Violins and flutes were 
joining in the musical celebration of Independence Day, while in 
all directions human voices broke out in songs of chorus or solo. 
Each regiment's fire had its crowd of men in brand-new blue 
uniforms, walking, sitting, standing, or dancing around it. 

At the railroad platform, alongside of which a great shed had 
been constructed to shelter the stores of food, clothing, and vari- 
ous equipments, trains, either with recruits or provisions, were 
arriving and departing at all hours of the day and night, so that 
the incessant clangor of the locomotive bells and the rattle of the 
trains ordinarily attracted but little attention from the men at 
large. 

But amid this Fourth of July revelry a sudden and quick 
succession of shrill whistles and a harsh grating sound startled 
the jubilant crowds, which immediately poured in from all direc- 
tions upon the railroad. A freight train from Cincinnati had 
come to grief by the opening of the rails. The engine and its 
tender lay on their side in a damaged condition. The strong and 
willing volunteers lent their help at once, but there was little for 
them to do. The crew of the train had all escaped unhurt, and 
were flitting about with lanterns in hand, when a voice some- 
where amid the darkness of the wreck was heard, " Take me 
out of this ! ' Some men of the Eighth Regiment were the 
first to heed the appeal ; the lanterns were brought up and 
between an overturned car and one of the trucks they found 
a young man wedged in. He was removed without further 
injury, his clothes torn and soiled, and his body sorely 
bruised. But in spite of this, he was seen to be a well-built, 
somewhat slender but sinewy young fellow, of the sort desirable 
as recruits. Quickly the men of the Eighth bore him from the 
track, across the parade to the hospital of their regiment, where 
it was discovered that, though he had received no permanent 



1889.] BY THE RAPIDAN. 747 

injury, care and treatment for some days would be necessary 
before putting him on his feet again. 

By the end of the week he was nearly healed, and, having 
asked to be taken as a recruit, and having satisfactorily ex- 
plained his sudden and first experience in the camp, was en- 
tered on the muster-roll of Co. " B ' as " Private Pierce Ormond ; 
place of birth, St. Louis, Mo. ; age, twenty-three ; occupation 
when enlisted, gold-digger." 

Before the end of another week the Eighth Ohio Infantry 
was in Virginia, making toilsome marches among the western 
ridges of the Alleghanies, and getting their first practical lessons 
in the varied and exacting art of war. 

July, 1 86 1, was an eventful month in the wild, mountain 
region of what is now West Virginia, but was then still a portion 
of the Old Dominion State. The generals on both sides seemed 
to be learning their trade just as much as the raw volunteers, 
for few of them had ever been in command of even a thousand 
men in the field before, while some of them had never until 
then seen a whole brigade of real soldiers together under arms. 
There were, consequently, many futile manoeuvres, the only good 
result of which was to inure all hands to the work that later 
was to assume a more serious turn. 

Ormond found himself in a fighting company, where his 
being a stranger to the rest was of little disadvantage to him, 
for the reason that most of these men had never met until the 
time of their enlistment. His young vigor throve in the moun- 
tains by the direct contact into which he was brought with old 
Mother Nature. No slumber could be more refreshing than that 
which he enjoyed at night with nothing beneath him but a 
rubber blanket to keep him from the moisture of the grass, and 
nothing above but a woollen blanket to keep off the dew. He 
was attentive to the routine of the life, and quickly acquired 
the drill. When on the isolated picket-post far on the lonely 
mountain-side, or under the overhanging gloom of- the forest, 
his coolness never failed, nor was the keenness of his sense of 
sight and of hearing ever at fault. By the time that fall had 
set in he had risen to be a sergeant, and was commonly under- 
stood to be in for the next lieutenancy that should become 

vacant in the regiment. 

But Ormond had not gone far in his experience without 
arousing ill-will among a few of his company, although for the 
life of him he could not remember that he had consciously done 



748 BY THE RAP ID AN. [Sept., 

harm to any of them. Like most men who have both intellect 
and courage, he was simple in his methods of thought and di- 
rect in his manner. Indeed it was because he was a fine and 
handsome fellow, endowed with a sufficient balance of pleasantry 
and dignity to make him a general favorite, that he had become 
obnoxious to these few, chief of whom was another sergeant 
who saw in Ormond an obstacle to his own chances of promotion. 

Sergeant Potter prided himself on belonging to one of the 
first families of northern Ohio, a family which traced its ancestry 
to New England and back to that Noe's ark called the May- 
flower. It was a grievance, therefore, in his mind that Ormond, 
of whose forebears nothing, so far as could be known, could be 
found in New England, should have gone so steadily forward in 
the line of promotion, while he himself remained of the same 
grade as that which had been conferred on him during the con- 
fusion and want of experience of the first days at Camp Dennison. 
Moreover, Ormond spoke good English, but with a certain unde- 
finable Southern fulness of vowel, and that was another source of 
annoyance to Potter. Potter's great confidant was Corporal Jabez 
Mudd, a squat fellow not much short of forty, with a beard that 
grew all over his face, nearly up to his little gray eyes, that were 
set so closely together as almost to squint ; a sour-spoken man 
who had been most of his life a sailor on Lake Erie. 

"Say, Jabe," said Potter one day to the corporal, "what do 
you think about this Ormond ? He has put himself down as 
born in St. Louis, and if he was really a ( gold-digger,' as he 
says, he must have been in California, but he looks to me like a 
Virginian." 

" Well, sergeant, I guess you know as much about him as 
any one in the company," said the corporal. " And I've heard 
him say once that he'd like to get across the mountains away 
down into real ( Ole Virginny,' because there was no spot on 
earth he had more interest in." 

The sergeant reflected. In the first year of the war there 
were, no doubt, many Southern spies in the ranks of the Union 
army both amateurs and professionals and especially in regi- 
ments raised close to the Southern border. Among these organi- 
zations there was a considerable number of young men of South- 
ern origin, who after enlistment began to conceive a dislike for 
the side they had chosen, and not a few of them deserted at the 
first opportunity in order to join the Confederate cause. The ser- 
geant knew this and his suspicious nature, now that envy had 
urged his mind to breed evil thoughts, was immediately possessed 



1889.] BY THE RAPIDAN. 749 

by the corporal's remark. Potter was not altogether a bad man, 
but he was malicious and his ambition was greater than his 
ability. Certainly, if Ormond was either a spy now, or was on 
the way to become one, it was not fitting that he should get pro- 
motion,, and in that case Potter would probably stand a better 
chance. 

Whether Ormond was really a gold-digger or not, he was 
evidently at home in the mountains. He never missed an oppor- 
tunity for a scout, and he had even a habit of straying away by 
himself, often being absent from after oreakfast until time for the 
evening parade. To be sure, this habit was not in itself remark- 
able in a somewhat isolated force such as that to which the 
Eighth then belonged. Many others besides Ormond were ac- 
customed to wander from the camp during the day and not re- 
turn until sunset; but then when they did return they were 
usually loaded down with hams, chickens, eggs, butter, all the mis- 
cellaneous tribute that could be levied off the farmers for many 
miles around. But Ormond appeared to have neither the incli- 
nation nor the special talents of a forager. He always came back 
as he had gone away. 

Late in the fall of 1861 the Eighth was a part of the force 
occupying Romney, which had been won not long before from 
the Confederates after a sharp and brief engagement. One after- 
noon Sergeant Potter and Corporal Mudd were on duty on the 
extreme right of a line of picket posts thrown out a couple of 
miles beyond the town, towards Winchester. Pleasant little valleys 
wind in and out between the rough and forbidding ridges of this 
region. An early snow had that morning thinly powdered the 
unsheltered portions of the surface, rendering the dark green foli- 
age of the pines and hemlocks seem almost black by contrast. 
The line of picket posts crossing the Winchester turnpike, and 
stretching out for a quarter of a mile on either hand, had a clear 
view over the shallow valley that ran along beneath them, and 
across the upper level of the open, low ridge opposite, on which 
were a number of scattered farm-houses. 

Corporal Mudd was descending the hill to the rear of the 
picket line towards a little stream that trickled along a bed of 
pebbles between fringes of snow. He was taking advantage of a 
moment's leisure to fill his canteen for the evening's coffee. His 
eyes fell on a series of footprints that, starting from somewhere 
off to the rear near the turnpike, led around the right of the 
picket line, then following near the course of the stream and go- 
ing towards the open ridge, only ceased where the wind, careering 



75 BY THE RAP ID AN. [Sept., 

along the valley, had swept the snow from the ground. The 
footprints were made by a pair of army shoes, and seemed to 
mark the route of some one going from the Union camp at 
Romney out towards Winchester and desirous of avoiding con- 
tact with the Union pickets. 

The corporal continued on down, crossing the trail, and, hav- 
ing filled his canteen, returned to the line and immediately sought 
Sergeant Potter, whom he found at the outer edge of the wood, 
through which the line extended, leaning against the trunk of a 
tall pine-tree curiously observing one of the farm-houses opposite. 
The sergeant had no sooner heard Corporal Mudd's report than 
he obtained permission from the officer in charge to make an in- 
vestigation. With Mudd and five others he went down the hill 
to the rear, and then followed the ravine through which ran the 
little stream. With their loaded weapons trailing at their sides, 
the party glided swiftly out along the foot of the hill to the 
right and across the valley into another ravine which intersected 
the ridge. Scarcely had they disappeared in the hollow, when, 
several hundred yards to the left of that point, a Union soldier 
was seen to emerge from amid the negro cabins near the farm- 
house and then to descend the ridge and move towards the 
picket post near the turnpike. The contour of the ground was 
evidently, however, such that he could not have seen Potter's 
squad at any time in its movement. He appeared to be sur- 
prised and perplexed as he caught sight of the alert and sus- 
picious countenances of the pickets, eyeing him narrowly as he 
came near. 

Just as the man had approached closely enough for his 
features to be discerned and recognized as those of Sergeant 
Ormond, the crack of a rifle, and then another, and another, and 
the sharp rattle of pistol shots echoed from the ridge and was 
repeated from hillside to hillside, and wood to wood. White 
smoke rising from behind the farm-house showed that Potter 
and his men had come upon the enemy, probably a scouting 
party, and before the picket officer could make any further dis- 
positions, the squad was seen returning straight down the face 
of the ridge. They were less by one than when they went 
away, for one of their party had been captured ; and they were 
bearing Sergeant Potter on their shoulders. Ormond on arriv- 
ing at the line had been arrested and sent temporarily back 
to the spot serving as the picket officers' headquarters, and 
there Potter, also, whose blue lips and sharpening features an- 
nounced approaching death, was set down. But the sense of 



1889.] BY THE RAPIDAN. 

sight had not yet gone out of Potter's eyes nor the ill-will 
for Ormond out of his heart, for he turned his gaze towards 
him, and, endeavoring to motion with his hand, he muttered 
hoarsely, " He's a spy ! ' And then he was still and his look 
of hatred was fixed for ever. 



II. 

Towards the end of November, 1863, the Army of the Poto- 
mac had crossed to the south side of the Rapidan, its com- 
mander intending to strike Lee's force while weakened by the 
sending of Longstreet to take part in the operations before 
Chattanooga. An engagement had been fought at Robinson's 
Tavern by way of reconnoissance, and the Union army had 
then moved during the night some miles to the left, or south- 
east, in the hope of turning the Confederate right flank. 

The sun had risen over the pine woods and lit up the 
ground before the Union army : short parallel ridges with slop- 
ing faces and with wide valleys between, all partly wooded 
and partly cleared in farm lands. The farm-houses were mostly 
of ample proportions, each having massive chimneys at both 
ends. After a brisk encounter, the Union skirmish line had 
gained possession of the nearest ridge and the fine farm-house 
. there had been quickly turned into a hospital for the numerous 
wounded of the affair, and the skirmishers had then pressed on 
down the slope into the wide valley below, through which the 
stream called Mine Run flows. 

So sudden had been the Union advance that although the 
negroes had somehow all made their escape the occupants of the 
house, a gentleman past middle life, and his daughter, a pretty 
and graceful young girl, found themselves shut in amid the 
dangers of the battle-field. The military surgeon who took 
charge of the house found the two hiding in the cellar from 
the storm of missiles that were crashing in above, tearing out 
wide gashes in the walls, splintering the doors, and shattering 
the window-glass. Gradually this had slackened as the fight 
moved further on and finally almost ceased, and the savage 
cheers of the combatants, the terrible war-shouts and the sar- 
castic yells of derision or hatred had vanished away as the 
contending lines had settled down to steady firing far out be- 
yond in the valley. The gentleman then came up-stairs, and 
finding all to be quiet, called his daughter up, and they passed 
a few minutes in looking out of one of the wrecked windows at 



752 BY THE RAPID AN. [Sept., 

the high ridge a mile to the front, on which they could 
plainly make out the fresh red earth of the newly-constructed 
field-works of the Confederate army. Below them, in the hollow 
ground, through which far out the course of Mine Run was 
marked by a line of bushes, they saw the Union skirmishers de- 
ployed in a seemingly endless single line, each man standing, 
kneeling, lying down, or comfortably sitting, according to the op- 
portunities of the ground ; each separated by an interval of sev- 
eral paces from his comrades to the right and left. They were 
individually firing, in a leisurely manner now, and probably with 
sure effect, at the Confederate skirmishers, who were extended, 
similarly disposed to themselves, two or three hundred yards be- 
yond. As far as the eye could reach to the right or left wound- 
ed men were crawling, limping, or hobbling back from the line. 

After their first shock had passed away, the young lady and 
her father had by a rapid glance around obtained an idea of the 
ruin that had come upon their old home. There was not a fence 
to be seen ; all had disappeared^ either for fuel to cook the 
soldiers' hasty meals, or to assist in the construction of the mas- 
sive breastwork that they saw stretching along the entire length 
of their ridge. The barns, carriage-house, corn-cribs, negro 
quarters all had been torn down for their material, or because 
they might prove an impediment to the line of artillery fire. 

The father and daughter looked about within. What a sight! 
The carpets were drenched and the walls, ' and even the ceilings, 
spattered with blood. But what after all was this to the broken 
and bleeding forms of men filling the floors, suffering, dying, 
or dead ? Men of the blue and the gray were mingled indiscri- 
minately in the suffering assemblage, just as at different epochs of 
the contest their comrades had carried them in for better shelter. 
The grim expression of the father as he thought of the irrepara- 
ble damage done to him and his property, to his State and his 
people, by what he regarded as an invading force, was not re- 
peated on the countenance of the daughter; her features were 
softened by sadness and pity as she gazed at the contorted and 
bruised bodies that lay about her. 

Her father understood her feelings and his own deep religious 
nature was stirred in sympathy. " Go on, Penelope," he said to 
her, " and do what you can, and I will render what help is pos- 
sible to the surgeon." 

In an opposite corner of the room from the window at which the 
father and daughter had looked out, a Union -artilleryman, who 
had been wounded in the head, was raving in a delirium, and was 



I88 9-] BY THE RAPIDAX. 753 

crawling on his knees, threatening vengeance against any " Reb " he 
might chance to meet. Just before him lay a helpless Confederate, 
breathing heavily, and all unconscious that a new attack was pre- 
paring for him. The artilleryman's eyes dilated with rage as he 
caught sight of the gray uniform, and he was about to spring 
upon the Confederate, when another wounded Federal, an infantry 
private, dragged himself, by a great effort, along the floor and 
interposed between. 

The young girl, left for the moment to herself, stared with 
horror at this unusual scene, and then, as it came to .a fortunate 
end, hastened over to thank the magnanimous fellow, who, in 
spite of his own hurt, had so generously saved a helpless enemy. 
The poor artilleryman, easily diverted, now sat up in the 
corner, mumbling incoherent words, while the one whom she de- 
sired to thank and to help, if possible, was panting and exhausted 
from the slight struggle. He was, in spite of the dust that some- 
what disguised his features, and of the rough and ragged uniform, 
a handsome young man. His cap bearing the blue trefoil, the 
badge of his corps and division, lay beside him, where it had 
fallen. The blouse and overcoat sleeve of his right arm had been 
cut off by the ambulance men, nearly up to the shoulder, so as to 
leave the wound which he had received in that member ready to 
be dressed as soon as some one might be found with time to do it. 
' Let me do what I can for you," the young lady said, as 
she stooped down beside him. " It was very noble of you to 
save that poor Southern man at such risk to yourself. Oh! what 
shall I do ? ' she murmured, wringing her hands in despair. 

But her womanly instinct and good sense prompted her, and 
after a visit to the room where the surgeons were at their work, 
and aided by her father, she did up the young man's arm well 
enough to prevent further loss of blood or injury, provided he 
were not disturbed. Gradually the rest of the wounded were 
carried out by the stretcher-bearers to the ambulance wagons to 
be sent back across the Rapidan for more careful treatment. 
During the afternoon the fighting near the house had ceased 
altogether; only a few shots at long intervals were heard from 
the skirmish line out near Mine Run. 

As soon as darkness had completely shrouded the country, the 
main Union line extended along the ridge, broke into columns to 
the rear and moved silently off. Almost at the same moment heaps 
of fence-rails and other combustible materials that had been piled 
up on the ground along the line, were ignited to simulate bivouac 
fires, and their glare shot straight up into the thick November 



754 BY THE RAPID AX. [Sept., 

night and could be seen by the Confederate army. The Union 
skirmishers out beyond lay quietly in their line awaiting the pre- 
arranged time to fall back and hasten after the retreating army. 
For this was another of the famous retreats of the Army of the 
Potomac. 



Worn out with the long agony, and by want of sleep and food, 
unnerved by the long strain, father and daughter sat on the 
door-step of the house, in utter darkness, and all alone save for 
the dead whom they knew to be everywhere around them. 

"My daughter," said the man, "I pray God you may escape 
uninjured from all these ills that seem to be pressing on us at 
once. The Yankees have not left us a thing 'to eat. I have 
searched everywhere as well as I could in the dark." 

" Oh ! don't mind that so far as I am concerned, papa," 
was the answer. " But I know you must need some nourish- 
ment. I saw a soldier's haversack in one of the rooms not long 
ago,' and I think I can find it. It will give us food until to- 
morrow at least." 

Before she could be prevented, the brave girl had risen and 
glided into the hall, keeping close to the wall so as to avoid 
the dead bodies on the floor. As she disappeared, a squad 
of Union soldiers came up to the door, and the lieutenant in 
command addressed the man : " I am the officer of the guard, 
and am directed by the commanding officer of my regiment to 
take you along with us." 

" For what reason ? Your men have done harm enough to 
me without this." 

"I am very sorry," was the response. "The object is, I 
suppose, to prevent you from reporting our movements to the 
enemy. I hope that we shall be able to let you go a few 
miles from here." 

" Ah ! you are retreating ? You are afraid I might slip 
through your pickets out there to my Southern friends and tell 
them ? But, sir, I have a daughter here in the house with me, 
and rather than be taken away to leave her all alone and un- 
protected, I will pledge you my word not to stir from the 
house or make any communication to the Southerners until day- 
light, or longer, if you wish." 

" I repeat to you, I am very sorry, but I must obey my 
orders without any delay, and " foreseeing a possible danger of 
alarm " you must not utter a sound, if you value your life." 

There was evidently no time to lose, for the rustle of leather 
belts and the clatter of cartridge-boxes on the moving columns 



l88 9-j BY THE RAPID AN. t 755 

of men had grown more and more faint, and then had ceased. 
The wood to the rear, now deserted by the retiring soldiers, 
resounded with the hooting of owls and the dismal song of 
whippoorwills. The practised ear, however, might still discern 
from the ridge the 1 far-off rumble of wheels belonging to bat- 
teries of the rear-guard. 

Dawn was beginning to penetrate the gloomy Wilderness, 
around Chancellorsville, where six months before a great but 
indecisive battle had been fought, and where six months later 
the bloody contest was to be waged that was to be first of 
the series of final operations of the Civil War. On either side 
of the plank road by which the army had retreated from Mine 
Run thousands of men, in the order of their brigades, lay asleep 
in ranks in the underbrush beneath the gnarled forest growth, 
and other thousands of other brigades were still streaming in 
along the road, and, as they arrived at the points allotted to 
them by the staff-officers, turning into the wood and dropping 
down to the ground to fall instantly asleep. An hour or two 
of rest was to be had before the march in retreat was resumed. 

Last of all the infantry came the rear-guard, the Second 
Corps, and last of that corps came its own rear-guard trudging 
wearily on past a group of horsemen drawn up beside the 
road. In the front of this group sat the then commander of 
the Second Corps, General Warren, a slender, swarthy-complex- 
ioned man, whose keen but pleasant eyes were searching the 
countenances of his men, as the morning sky began to brighten, 
in order to note, if possible, what were their thoughts in regard 
to this second retreat within a few weeks without having tried 
the issue of a set battle. 

" Who is that you have there ?" he called out to the officer 
of a regimental guard which formed the extreme rear of the 
entire column, and which had halted when its regiment halted 
while dispositions were making to afford the men their rest. 
The general had at the same moment turned around and ad- 
dressed one of his staff who had but a few minutes before 
arrived from General Meade with despatches : " Colonel, please 
see into this matter. You know this country about here and 
the people." 

Before the officer of the guard could reply, the man himself 
in question spoke: " My name is Gregory Lynch." His voice 
was faint and tremulous, but indignation lent a little vigor to 
it as he continued : " Your men, after destroying my property, 



756 BY THE RAPIDAA T . [Sept., 

have forced me away from my ruined home, compelling me to 
leave my daughter all alone there among the dead." 

The staff officer to whom the general had committed the 
case had dismounted and walked towards the road. " Merci- 
ful God ! ' he exclaimed as he heard the voice and understood 
the words, " is that Gregory Lynch ?" He ran to the centre 
of the group, where the prisoner was sitting down in the dust, 
completely overcome by the events of the past two days and 
the forced march of the night. 

The colonel stooped down, and took one of the man's hands 
in his own and was silent a moment. " I am Walter Ormond," 
he said. "We were friends once, Gregory. Do you know me?" 
The worn-out man wearily withdrew his hand, which was hot 

and feverish. 

i 

' So you are Walter Ormond that we thought dead years 
ago. God help my daughter ! And perhaps your people have 
killed my only other child by this time, my son. Are these 
your friends, Walter, around you ? If so, you cannot be my 
friend, for they have ruined me and mine." 

The colonel did not reply, but arose, and having procured 
some food and a cup of hot coffee for the disconsolate man, 
briefly explained the situation to the general in a low tone. 
An ambulance was brought up, and Lynch having been com- 
fortably laid out on the cushions to sleep, the colonel, bearing 
a flag of truce and accompanied by his orderly went off with 
the ambulance at a brisk trot back towards Mine Run. 

It is wonderful how, even in the natural order, the doing 
of good to others redounds in the end to our own advantage. 
Had Penelope Lynch had no other woes than those of herself 
and her own belongings to occupy her during the long and 
dreadful night after she had returned to the door with the 
soldier's haversack to find no response to her calls for "Papa!" 
she might have gone insane. 

But a voice within the house spoke to her. It was that 
of the wounded Union soldier whom she had cared for that 
day, and she recognized it at once. She picked her way cau- 
tiously among the dead into the room where the man lay on 
the floor near a window. When she had approached, he said : 
' I have been listening to you calling for your father, and 
when I became certain from there being no reply that he was 
really gone, I thought I would give you some ease of mind 
by telling you that you have nothing to fear for him," And he 



1889.] BY THE RAPID AN. , 757 

related to her the conversation he had heard through the open 
window between her father and the officer of the guard. " Your 
father will be back here by noon to-morrow, if not before," 
he said. 

The young girl wept bitterly as she leaned against the window- 
frame and gazed out upon the stars that were fading one by 
one away as the moon rose over the black woods to the rear. 
The great clock in the entry was striking twelve, and an ex- 
tended line of dark figures moving from the direction of the 
opposite side of the house was hastily but silently closing in 
towards the gap in the wood where the road led off towards 
Chancellorsville. 

The movement was nearly completed when the quiet was 
startled by a shot from the direction from which the line had 
just come, and then another, and another, and then three or 
four together, and all was still again. Instinctiv'ely the girl had 
shrunk down from the window at the first shot, but then re- 
covering herself, she spoke, as if appealing in her helplessness 
to the wounded man at her feet: "I hope poor father was not 
shot then." And she hurriedly explained what she had seen. 

"Your father is miles away from here now and in safety," 
said the wounded man. " What you saw was our skirmish line 
getting away unobserved, if possible. They were left behind to 
keep up appearances. It looks as if some smart Southern officer 
had checked the firing of his men in the belief that they were 
mistaken. But they will find out all about it at daylight." 

No answer came from the girl. She was sound asleep. An 
hour or more passed and then she awoke with a start. " Have 
you slept," she asked gently, by way of trial. 

"No; I have kept awake for your sake." 

"Oh! please don't do that," she said. "You must sleep it 
you can ; you need it. I shall remain awake the rest of the 
night." 

( "I cannot sleep," he protested, and he rose slightly so as 
to look at her. The early morning light was touching the tops 
of the woods outside, and was beginning to enter the windows 
of the house, so that the prostrate forms on the floor were 
becoming discernible. She was sitting on the floor, her head 
resting on the window-sill, her face turned outwards and up- 
wards. "May I ask your name?" 

She answered simply : " My father's^ name is Gregory Lynch. 
My mother has been dead a long while. My brother's name 
is Jeffrey. He is older than I, and is in the Southern army. 



758 BY THE RAPIDAN. [Sept., 

I was baptized Margaret Penelope after my mother, but am 
generally called Penelope." 

" I wonder," said the soldier, half to himself, " if this can 
be the place ? ' 

"What place?" 

"Well, I will tell you," he said. "My father was a Vir- 
ginian, but left the State many years ago and went to St. 
Louis, where he married and where I was born. I was the 
only child, and my mother, too, died a long while ago, so long 
ago that I scarcely remember her. Then my father went with 
me to California and engaged in prospecting for gold. One 
day the Indians surprised our camp and I was carried off. 
I was twelve years old then and the Indians kept me for a 
couple of years, until a gang of cattle-herders attacked the tribe 
and I was rescued and spent some years with them. I will 
not trouble you any further with my adventures, only to say 
that I have never seen my father since, and I have not been 
able to find any trace of him. Two years ago, when I first 
came into Virginia with the army, I formed the habit of going 
among all the likely farm-houses to inquire for the name of 
Ormond, for I never knew exactly what part of Virginia my 
father came from. One day, far to the west of Winchester, I 
came across a family named Tracy, and they had a vague 
recollection, they said, of a family of that name who were 
neighbors to a family named Lynch, connected with them by 
marriage. That was all the information I ever obtained, for 
when the story had reached that point a party of Confederate 
scouts came up and I had to flee. I escaped from them, but 
was arrested by my own men on suspicion of being a South- 
ern spy, and I have never since been able to entirely allay 
the suspicion." 

" All that is very strange," said the girl. " My mother's 
maiden name was Tracy, and she was born beyond Winchester, 
and over on the high ridge where the Southern army has been 
for several days is the old Ormond place. But it was sold 
years ago by old Mr. Ormond, who moved with his wife to 
Richmond, where they both died. I have often heard my 
father speak of their only child, Walter Ormond, as his play- 
mate and dear friend, until some dispute arose and then Walter 
went away that was long years before I was born and he 
was said to have died of fever in Panama some time when on 
his return from California.*" 

"Walter Ormond was my father," the young man said. 



1889.] BY THE RAPIDAN. 759 

: I cannot describe to you how much I have always loved my 
father, although I lost him so early in my life. But perhaps 
your father might be able to tell me something more about him." 

The Confederates meanwhile, having at daylight missed the 
Union skirmish line, had moved forward their own skirmishers, 
and now held all the ridge, and their cavalry were scouring 
the woods where the main Union line had bivouacked. 

" What is this coming up the road from Chancellorsville ?" 
exclaimed Penelope, who was now looking out of the window, 
so as to avoid the horrible sight which was presented to her 
by the interior of the house. " There are two of your men 
on horseback ; one of them is an officer carrying a white flag, 
and behind them is one of your ambulances. I can see the 
clover-leaf on it, such as that on your cap there. Then there 
are some of our cavalry riding on both sides, and I can see 
one of our surgeons in the party, for he has a green sash 
across his shoulder. The officer with the white flag has reined 
up his horse a little, and has lifted the flap of the ambulance. 
He seems to be talking to some one inside, and' now he is 
pointing up to this house." And then suddenly: "I wonder 
if my poor father is in that ambulance ? ' And forgetting all 
else, she let herself out of the window to the ground outside 
and ran forward as the party had halted in front of the house, 
and in the next moment was in the arms of her father, who 
had alighted from the ambulance, seemingly refreshed by the 
sleep which he had taken during much of the long ride. 

"Have you been hurt, papa?" she asked as she scanned 
her father from head to foot. 

" No, Pen ; but I was taken by the Northern soldiers to 
Chancellorsville, and might have died from the fatigue had not 
this gentleman yes, Pen, this dear, long-lost friend, Walter 
Ormond been there to help me." And Gregory Lynch looked 
towards Ormond, who had dismounted and was approaching the 
father and daughter. "How can I ever sufficiently thank him?" 

" Did I understand rightly, papa ? Walter Ormond ?" Pen- 
elope inquired in astonishment. 

"Yes; that is my name," was the Union officer's reply. 
"I was born on that ridge yonder. Your father and I were 
like brothers once. Gregory," he said, turning towards Lynch, 
"how can any one doubt that there is a Providence of God 
when he brings together in this way friends who should never 

have been separated ?" 

Penelope's thoughts had been rapidly running over her con- 



760 BY THE RAPID AN. [Sept., 

versation during the night with the wounded soldier, and she 
had at the same time been studying the features of her father's 
old friend. " Let us go into the house at once," she said, 
"and you shall see a still further proof that God does provide." 

Her father gazed at her curiously, fearful that the night of 
anxiety amid such surroundings might either have unhinged her 
mind or have embittered it for life. But she seemed almost gay as 
she tripped ahead of them and the Confederate surgeon, and, 
while daintily keeping her skirts clear of infection, led them 
into the house and to the room where the one living man of 
all the soldiers in blue or gray that strewed the floors lay in 
the corner, his suffering face beaming with expectancy. 

Penelope's eyes met his as she entered the room, and the 
message that unconsciously passed between them in that glance 
could have but one purport if understood ; but the generous 
girl was not thinking then of herself, but only of the love 
between father and son that now was to take renewal of life 
in this house of woe. " That is .your son ! ' she said to Colonel 
Ormond, pointing to the wounded man whom the Confederate 
surgeon had already espied and was approaching to relieve. 

But why dwell on such a scene ? Ye who find fault with 
fiction that it overdraws have known but one phase of life, 
and measure all fact by that The father and son who had 
searched for one another in vain were here reunited, and the 
son was carried off by . his father in the ambulance to be 
thoroughly healed in time by good care. The suspicion of 
treason against the son was removed by the return to his 
company from the long Southern imprisonment of that one of 
Sergeant Potter's squad who was captured by the Confederate 
scouts. And so this fine young fellow, whose early life had 
been one of misfortune, who, for want of money, had ridden 
on the trucks of railroad cars, and so once came near losing 
his life at Camp Dennison, seemed now ennobled by the hero- 
ism which always shines amid the horrors of war. 

As Pierce Ormond was carried into the ambulance, his father 
stood with his foot in his stirrup grasping the hand of Gregory 
Lynch, and as the Confederate officer gave the signal for de- 
parture Pierce drew the tips of Penelope's fingers to his lips, 
and, remembering the words of a song then in vogue in the 
North, he looked into her eyes with questioning gaze and 
murmured, " When this cruel war is over?" She could not 
speak, but the tears that flowed down her cheeks were answer 
enough. THOMAS F. GALWEY. 



.] CHRISTIANITY INDEFECTIBLE. 761 



CHRISTIANITY INDEFECTIBLE. 

THE title I have given to this article is vague and ambiguous, 
because I have not found any phrase in which to express briefly 
and distinctly what I intend to be the thesis of my argument. I 
must therefore define my terms and state precisely what I pro- 
pose to prove, that the reader may perceive the exact point at 
which I am aiming. 

By " Christianity ' I mean the doctrine and law which Christ 
committed to the apostles to be announced to the world. By 
" indefectible ' I mean unalterable and permanent, by a divine 
provision giving continuous existence to the genuine Christianity 
of Christ ; like the law which preserves the human species in its 
typical essence, and the law which secures the permanence of 
the solar system. A wide field is here opened to our view, 
upon which the universal Christian controversy is waged. The 
questions : What is the genuine Christianity of Christ ? What is 
apostolic Christianity ? What is the earlier and later historical 
Christianity ? What are the mutual relations of all these to each 
other ? all these questions are matters of contest and discussion. 
Evidently, the question first in order is : What is the Christianity 
of Christ ? Whoever attempts to affirm or deny the indefecti- 
bility of Christianity must have a definite idea of that term which 
is put in comparison with apostolic and historical Christianity. 
There are two general answers to this question given by two 
opposite divisions into which the numerous distinct species of 
disputants on Christianity may be classified. One answer is : 
That Christianity is a human philosophy. The other : That it 
is a divine revelation. With the first class I have no present 
contention. My contention is with one section of the second 
division, in respect to one point, viz. : whether a certain supposed 
alteration and lapse from the original type could have taken 
place or did take place during the earliest centuries after the 
apostolic age. 

I maintain that Christianity is indefectible, in opposition to the 
theory tjiat it was altered from its original, genuine form as the 
pure gospel of Jesus Christ and the apostles, by those who suc- 
ceeded to their office of teaching and ruling the church, during 
the second and third centuries. The Christianity of the church 

founded by Christ perseveres, unaltered and unalterable, during 

VOL. XLIX. 49 



762 CHRISTIANITY INDEFECTIBLE. [Sept., 

the apostolic, early, mediaeval, and modern periods, and will con- 
tinue to the end of the world. Historical and Catholic Christian- 
ity, in its faith, law, and order, is the Christianity of Christ, 
and no other form of religion has in it anything of the 
genuine Christianity, except what it has received from this 
original source. 

Those who deny this statement are obliged to define their 
own conception of genuine Christianity, in order to show what is 
the alteration which took place in the process of transformation. 
They are obliged to prove the truth of their own conception, and 
to show the causes, periods, authors, and methods of the altera- 
tion which, according to their theory, must have taken place. 

I am only concerned with those whose conception of Chris- 
tianity presents it as a divine religion, a revelation of truth and 
grace through a divine redeemer and saviour, by whom and in 
whom all who are saved are made children of God and heirs of 
everlasting life. Thus far there is no contention between us. 
Neither do I care to contend with those who accuse the Catholic 
Church of essentially altering this gospel and substituting another 
in its place. Those evangelical Protestants who are, in my view, 
the most worthy of respectful consideration, will readily admit 
that Christianity, in its essence, is indefectible, and was not 
altered essentially, but only accidentally, in the supposed 
transformation which it underwent from apostolic into Catholic 
Christianity. The contention arises in respect to the distinc- 
tion between the essence and the accidents; that is, in respect 
to what are the essentials and what the non-essentials of 
Christianity. Those who restrict the essentials to certain funda- 
mental articles of the apostolic creed and precepts of the divine 
law, can recognize essential Christianity as existing under various 
and widely different forms. Guizot is a good representative of 
this class. 

There is, however, a further question of contention, besides the 
definition of the essence of Christianity. It relates to all which is 
supposed to have been changed or added in the concrete system 
of Christianity. If this alteration is supposed to affect only the 
environment and not the pure essence of Christianity, the con- 
tention still remains, concerning all which is included in this en- 
vironment, whether belonging to doctrine, rites, or polity. Sup- 
pose one says: the difference between a Catholic, a Lutheran, and 
a Calvinist regarding the Holy Eucharist does not relate to es- 
sential doctrine, he must nevertheless admit that in fact the 
apostles taught the doctrine they received from Jesus Christ. The 



1889.] CHRISTIANITY INDEFECTIBLE. 763 

contention, therefore, remains in the agreement or disagreement of 
ecclesiastical with apostolic doctrine. So, also, aside from the 
question whether the controversy concerning the episcopate re- 
lates to the essential or 'the non-essential, it is a question of 
fact whether the episcopal polity was or was not established by 
the apostles. And so of other matters of discussion. 

The precise nature and limits of our present contention may 
now be defined. It is admitted that the conception and actual 
form of Christianity universally prevalent before the First Council 
of Nicaea, setting aside manifest heresies and schisms, was, in a 
broad and general sense, Catholic, in the received, technical sense 
of that term. That is, the way of salvation appointed by Jesus 
Christ was believed to be a visible, organic, universal church, the 
medium and instrument through which the Holy Spirit imparted 
faith and grace to the disciples of Christ ; and the great Chris- 
tian body called the Catholic Church really existed, claiming 
lineal descent from the apostles. This ideal and actual form of 
Christianity was sacramental, sacerdotal, and hierarchical. What was 
the origin of this part of historical Christianity ? Was it divine 
or merely human ? I maintain, of course, that it was divine, and 
as such, an essential part of the genuine Christianity of Christ. 
That is, Jesus Christ instituted the episcopate as a binding and 
perpetual polity, gave the sacerdotal character to the priests of 
the New Law, instituted a true and proper sacrifice in the Eucharist, 
made baptism the ordinary means of regeneration, transmitted to 
the apostolic hierarchy teaching authority and the power of the 
keys ; in a word, created the body as well as the soul of the 
church. This is not an exact enumeration, but a selection of 
salient points sufficient to indicate the meaning of my thesis of 
the indefectibility of Christianity, and to mark the opposite 
theory in the contention. 

The opponent must deny all I have affirmed, and assert the 
human origin of all that whose divine origin is explicitly or 
implicitly asserted in my thesis. Therefore, even if he ad- 
mits that the essence of Christianity remained unchanged, he is 
. obliged to suppose a change, and a very gre#t alteration to 
have taken place in the integral conception and actual form of 
the Christian religion. 

I deny the fact and the possibility of such an alteration. 
The opponent who maintains that the alteration respected non- 
essentials, and not only might, but did take place, the essence 
remaining unchanged, has a certain apparent advantage. For, 
change in environment, in accidents; development in doctrine, 



764 CHRISTIANITY INDEFECTIBLE. [Sept., 

ritual, and administration, variations and differences in all these 
respects, must be allowed to be compatible with the perma- 
nence of the faith and the divine order of Christianity. Never- 
theless, in the argument upon the direct question whether a 
certain supposed alteration is or is not a probable hypothesis 
or a provable fact, if the Catholic thesis be successfully main 
tained, the whole case is gained. What I contend for as of 
divine origin and right, is necessarily of the essence of Chris- 
tianity if it belongs to it at all. And all the arguments which 
overthrow our more moderate opponents, fall with tenfold force 
upon those who are more extreme, and accuse either the an- 
cient church, or even the apostles, of having essentially altered 
the genuine Christianity of Christ. 

Let us begin, then, from a term of departure which we have 
in common. There is a doctrine and a rule of life centred in 
faith in the divine person and authority of Jesus Christ, the re- 
deemer and saviour of mankind,, received by divine revelation, 
and made efficacious by divine grace. This is of the essence 
of the Christianity of Christ and the apostles ; it is its spirit 
and soul, and therefore more noble than any other part of 
integral Christianity, whether regarded as pertaining to its essence, 
or to the integrity of its constitution, or to its accidents, or en- 
vironment. 

* 

Those who maintain that it is the whole essence, if they 
admit the necessity of some kind of visible church and eccle- 
siastical order, must and do admit that the apostles and disciples 
were formed into a society by Jesus Christ. They admit that 
the apostles gathered their converts into fellowship with them- 
selves in this society, in which there was a rule of faith, a 
rule of life, a ministry, the administration of sacraments and 
discipline, the preaching of the word, and common worship. 

Let this be regarded as merely the environment of the spir- 
itual essence of Christianity. Nevertheless, it is incredible that 
Jesus Christ and the apostles should have left it undetermined, 
so that the form and order of Christianity, as a religion, should 
be liable to variation in different times and countries, and sub- 
ject to the will of whatever power, whether of the people or 
of a ruling class, might either justly or unjustly have control 
over ecclesiastical affairs. Sectarian divisions and disputes among 
Christians are obviously a great evil and hindrance to the 
efficiency and progress of Christianity, and notably to its mis- 
sionary work. This state of confusion cannot be ascribed to 
the apostles and Christ, any more than evil in general can be 



1889.] CHRISTIANITY INDEFECTIBLE. 765 

referred to God as its cause. As sin and its penalties have 
their origin in disobedience to the law of God, confusion, schisms, 
and sects in Christendom have issued from disobedience to the 
teaching and precepts of Christ given through the apostles. 

The apostles, most assuredly, had a clear idea of the com- 
mission given them as teachers of truth and founders of the 
church. It is certain, also, that they fulfilled it faithfully. They 
taught their disciples what was the genuine, essential Christi- 
anity, in respect to the revealed truths which they were bound 
to believe and profess, and the precepts they were bound to 
obey. They gave them a rule of faith and practice, sufficient 
to keep them in unity of doctrine and fellowship, and to pre- 
serve this unity until the end of the world. 

Let us suppose, now, that this original, genuine Christianity 
of the apostles was substantially the same as that form of it 
which now subsists among orthodox Presbyterians and Congre- 
gationalists, and Protestants generally, with the exception of 
those, on the one side, who are High Churchmen, and of those, 
on the other side, who are rationalists or erratic sectarians. It 
is plain that the principles and the plan of the external organ- 
ization of the church, according to this theory, must have been 
in harmony with the doctrine and the rule of faith, and adapted 
to the preservation and universal propagation of the genuine 
gospel of Christ in its purity. Our opponents universally con- 
tend that it was substantially a presbyterian order under which 
the primitive church was constituted. Whether or no, one uni- 
versal form was prescribed ; whether the external model of asso- 
ciation was the looser and simpler congregational order, or the 
more compact order of presbyterian polity, or episcopal, or 
more or less conformed to these various types with a certain 
latitude and diversity in different regions and places ; the theory 
of o f ur opponents demands that the church be regarded as a 
society of equal brethren, in which the presiding officers are 
only elder brethren. This is the basis of the ecclesiastical 
polity of the variously organized Protestant churches. The church 
is a congregation of the faithful. The ministers of the church 
are elders who preside over smaller or larger societies, in which 
they may or may not have a presidency over subordinate min- 
isters. The ecclesiastical principle is, therefore, congregational 
and presbyterian, even though the form of government be epis- 
copal. It is with reason, therefore, that the form of church 
government, regarded as a merely external order, is declared 
by the most eminent Protestant authors to be a non-essential. 



766 CHRISTIANITY INDEFECTIBLE, [Sept., 

Some, who maintain the apostolic origin of the episcopal order, 
disclaim the pretension that episcopal succession is necessary 
to the being of the church, though they assert its importance to 
the church's well-being, and the obligation of adhering to it. 

Others have maintained that the apostles established an order 
of which the stricter presbyterian or looser congregational polity 
is a copy, and that this polity was made obligatory, for the sake 
of the well-being of the church, although not essential to its being. 

Now, all these various opinions, ranging between opposite ex- 
tremes of strictness and latitude, have this in common, that they 
exclude the Catholic idea of a sacerdotal hierarchy, first constituted 
by Christ in the apostles, and continued in the episcopate. The 
hierarchical idea is incompatible^ with that doctrine of the pure, 
original essence of Christianity which we are considering, and 
which its advocates qualify as evangelical and scriptural by con- 
trast with the legal and traditional system of Catholicism. They 
do not recognize the hierarchical character even in the apostles. 
According to their theory, the apostles were only persons appointed 
to give a message from Jesus Christ to mert, and particularly to 
true believers, a message which they were inspired and moved 
by the Holy Spirit to deliver, teaching men what they must be- 
lieve and what they must do, in order to be true Christians. 
While they were delivering their message viva voce, they were 
the living, speaking rule of faith, or rather their spoken word 
was that rule. When they had committed that revealed and in- 
spired word to writing, it became the New Testament, and with 
the Old Testament made the complete Bible, the written Word 
of God, henceforth the only and sufficient rule of faith and prac- 
tice, for all believers, taken singly and collectively. On this sup- 
position, the apostolic commission was merely personal, extra- 
ordinary, and temporary, expiring with the last of the apostles, 
St. John. 

Now, whether more or less latitude is supposed to have ex- 
isted, in respect to the method and rule giving form and orderly 
arrangement to the visible society of Christian believers, it is cer- 
tain that the apostles must have impressed their own idea of 
their commission, their message, the true genius and nature of 
Christianity ; the essential doctrines and precepts of the gospel ; 
and the principles of association and common action which should 
direct and govern the Christian community in its inward and 
outward working for the preservation and increase of its spiritual 
life, and for the salvation of the outlying world. 

By the supposition, the idea of a hierarchy in the apostolic 



1889.] CHRISTIANITY INDEFECTIBLE. 767 

order, to be transmitted and continued in a line of successors of 
the apostles, was excluded, with all involved in and following 
from it as a principle, both doctrinally and practically. This ex- 
clusion could not have been merely negative. The preaching of 
what a Congregationalist understands as the pure essence of 
Christianity must have involved a positive exclusion of all Jewish 
sacerdotalism as a part of an imperfect, superseded law, and of 
everything similar in paganism, as a mere counterfeit of genuine 
religion. Moreover, the Lord must have inspired his apostles and 
prophets, whom he filled with his Spirit, to safeguard the infant 
church against the danger of detrimental innovation and alteration. 

We come now face to face with the question : Could a great 
and momentous change and alteration have taken place, silently 
and universally, between A.D. 100 and A.D. 300, by which the 
apostolic association of local Christian congregations was trans- 
formed into a corporate, organic body, under a hierarchical polity? 

It is against common sense, against human nature, contrary to 
all historical experience, to make such a supposition. If the apos- 
tolic model was simply congregational or presbyterian, and pre- 
scribed universally as obligatory, it must have taken such a deep 
root in the virgin soil of the first century, and attained such a 
sturdy growth and stability as to be ineradicable. 

If there had been a latitude in local arrangements, leaving 
particular churches free to determine for themselves the manner 
of their constitutions, so that different models, such as the epis- 
copal, the stricter presbyterian, and the congregational had been 
followed in certain cities and districts, this liberty and diversity 
would have become traditional and historical. The habits, mem- 
ories, and affections of the faithful would have clung tenaciously 
to their particular usages, and for all, apostolic precedent would 
have made them sacred. In either case, the universal establish- 
ment of an episcopal polity could not have been quietly and 
imperceptibly affected. A common consent and agreement to 
adopt such a polity, and a concerted plan of leading men among 
the clergy to impose this episcopal government, extending 
through so many and widely separated countries, are alike im- 
possible hypotheses. Equally impossible is the hypothesis of a 
gradual development, without any preconceived plan, simultane- 
ously in all places, resulting. in one uniform episcopal constitution. 

This is only . touching the exterior surface. The ecclesiastical 
polity is considered only as a way of providing for mutual com- 
munion and co-operation among particular Christian societies, in 
which bishops are chief overseers and magistrates. The world- 



768 CHRISTIANITY INDEFECTIBLE. [Sept, 

wide confederation divided and sub-divided into greater and lesser 
provinces, dioceses, and parishes, with the Roman primacy over 
all, particular and plenary councils, and the oecumenical council of 
Nicaea, representing and legislating for the universal church ; in 
this aspect, is only a grand Evangelical Alliance, but not by any 
means what Catholics believe to be the Catholic Church. 

If we could suppose that even this kind of a confederation 
and constitution could have been devised and effected in a human 
mode, it would be an event of such magnitude that it would 
be conspicuous in the early history of the church. It is not pos- 
sible, however, to make such a supposition reasonably. The only 
sufficient cause which can be assigned for this wonderful and uni- 
versal constitution of the church, is the concerted action of its 
founders, the apostles, instructed by Jesus Christ, its supreme 
head, and directed by the Holy Spirit. 

But we have as yet touched only the outer surface, the shell 
of the living, organic body, animated by the spirit of Christianity. 
When we go deeper, we find that the hypothesis of a change 
from simple Congregationalism to episcopacy implies more than 
a mere change of the outward form. It is necessary to suppose, 
not only that in lieu of a parity among presbyters, and an ag- 
gregation of small particular communities united in common fellow- 
ship, there was established a presidency or primacy of superin- 
tendents, and a stricter organic union of smaller and larger parts 
into a universal whole, but that a much more important change 
took place, altering the whole idea of the church and the ministry. 

That is to say, not only does episcopacy present itself in the 
earliest history as the sole and universal order, and of apostolic 
institution, but as being the continuation of the apostolate, which 
is, in the apostles and their successors, a strictly hierarchical order. 
Bishops alone have received the power to ordain, and they have 
received it by a consecration distinct from ordination to the pres- 
byterate, together with the other qualities which appertain to the 
episcopal character. The idea of the sacramental nature of holy 
orders is involved in this doctrine, and the idea of the sacerdotal 
character communicated by Christ to the apostles and through 
them to all priests of the New Law is indissolubly connected with 
it, as also the idea of the Holy Eucharist as a true and proper 
sacrifice, and the idea of sacramental grace in all its extension. 
The church, being founded on a sacerdotal hierarchy, and being 
sacramental through and through in its essence, is totally diverse 
from that which Protestants call the visible church. And if Christ 
really founded this One, Holy, Catholic, Apostolic Church, it needs 



1889.] CHRISTIANITY INDEFECTIBLE. 769 

no argument to prove that it is a part of the essence of Chris- 
tianity, as the body, equally with the soul, is a part of the essence 
of humanity. 

The sacerdotal hierarchy begun in the apostles and inherited 
in all the fulness of its gifts by the episcopate, was also believed 
to continue as the living and perpetual rule of faith. There is 
no trace of that supposed transposition of the rule of faith from a 
living authority in the apostles to a written record of their teach- 
ing in the canonical books of the New Testament. Scripture and 
Tradition are alike acknowledged as the sources whence the knowl- 
edge of revealed truths is derived, the immediate rule being the 
teaching authority of the church. The rule of faith is manifestly 
an essential principle in Christianity. 

If, therefore, the idea of a sacerdotal hierarchy, with its ac- 
companiments and consequences, was not a part of genuine, ori- 
ginal Christianity, but a false development or a human addition, 
there was certainly a great change in respect to the essence of 
Christianity. The conception of the essence was changed by ad- 
dition. Although the pure, original essence remained in the com- 
posite, the composite was very different from the simple essence, 
and tfie other element necessarily affected its action. Water is 
very different from oxygen and hydrogen ; and oxygen in water 
is very different from oxygen by itself. Historical Christianity is 
very different from what apostolic Christianity is supposed to have 
been in its original simplicity. If it was the result of change, and 
a composition of divine and human elements, the change was a 
disaster. It was detrimental, and the successful enterprise of 
changing Congregationalism into Catholicism was criminal. 

Will it be said that it was all done in good faith, without 
deliberate intention, preconceived and concerted plan, and so 
not criminal ? Catholicism must have been, then, either an un- 
conscious evolution from apostolic Christianity, or a work of 
chance. A little boy once asked another and smaller boy if he 
knew how to make a corn-stalk fiddle. " Yes," said he. " How 
do you do it ? ' " Take a corn-stalk and whittle it and whittle 
it, and sling it away. Then take another and whittle it and whit- 
tle it, and sling it away. Then take another and whittle it and 
whittle it, and its a fiddle ! ' Behold an epitome of the early 
history of the church, according to our evangelical brethren ! 

If Jesus Christ could not and did not give his apostles power 
to declare the revealed truth, to prescribe the rule of faith, and 
to constitute the church, in a manner adequate to the end pro- 
posed, indefectible, durable, superior to everything human, he did 



7.70 CHRISTIANITY INDEFECTIBLE. [Sept., 

not have divine wisdom and power. If he could not give them 
the plan of a religion capable of keeping its genuine form during 
any notable period, he was inferior to Moses and several other great 
founders, even in human wisdom and power. A Christianity so 
feeble and evanescent- in its original form that it speedily disap- 
peared to give place to a transformation, must have been ex- 
tremely vague and indeterminate. In no other case could the 
innovations in doctrine and polity which are supposed to have 
arisen and prevailed have gained their universal sway, in good 
faith and sincerity. This kind of reasoning leads irresistibly to 
rationalism and naturalism, and to the destructive theories of Renan, 
Prof. Green, and Mrs. Ward. 

If the church did not drift unconsciously into Catholicism, 
how did it arrive there ? The historic fact of a solid, compact, 
world-wide Catholicism in the year 300 stares us in the face. It 
is not a novelty. It goes back indefinitely towards A.D. 200, 
100, and 70. There are no signs of any revolution, or peaceable 
reconstitution, or of controversy on matters of primary import- 
ance, except with manifest heretics, schismatics, Jews, and pa- 
gans. Apostolic men, saints, martyrs, fathers of the church, the 
vast multitude of the faithful are all in it. They have no ^oubt 
that it is scriptural and apostolic. The notion of a departure 
from or an improvement upon apostolic Christianity is totally 
absent from the mind of every one who professes to be a Cath- 
olic. Tertullian, indeed, preaches a new dispensation more per- 
fect than any which went before it. But he places himself in the 
position of an open rebel and schismatic, a violent enemy of the 
papacy and the episcopacy. He admits that the papal and epis- 
copal church is identical with the apostolic church, and was the 
genuine embodiment of Christianity before the pretended advent of 
the Paraclete, and the new revelations of the prophets of the Mon- 
tanist sect. All the early heresies are marked by the notes of 
private speculation, disregard of tradition and authority, and the 
spirit of innovation. The early Catholic Church is marked by the 
traditional spirit, reverence for antiquity and authority, and submis- 
sion of private judgment to universal consent whose most formal 
and solemn manifestation is expressed in ecclesiastical decisions. 

It is evident that bishops, ecclesiastical statesmen, theologians, 
if they had wished and attempted to change the pure, apos- 
tolical Christianity by alteration or addition, could not have suc- 
ceeded in gaining the consent of the universal episcopate and 
the mass of the faithful. Much less could they have persuaded 
the whole church that this alteration was no change, but only 






1889-] CHRISTIANITY INDEFECTIBLE. 771 

the development and expansion of genuine, apostolic doctrine and 
order. 

The apostolic preaching was clear and definite, and its sound 
went forth through and beyond the bounds of the world of the 
Roman Empire. The early Christian church was imbued with 
it and stamped by its impress. Besides the thirteen apostles, 
there were prophets endowed with supernatural gifts, evangelists 
and missionaries, teachers and pastors, trained by apostles and 
apostolic men. There is credible testimony to the continuance 
of extraordinary gifts in a certain number of Christian teachers 
for some time after the apostolic age. St. John survived until 
the end of the first century to warn the church against de- 
parture and innovation. Faith and charity were intensely vivid 
in the nascent Christendom. Fervent love of Jesus Christ, fer- 
vent love of the Christian brotherhood, fervent zeal for the sal- 
vation of the world, burned in their hearts, and their minds 
were illumined by the light of heaven. As time went on, the 
noble army of martyrs, with ever-increasing ranks, pressed for- 
ward with dauntless courage to face tortures and death, fructify- 
ing the earth with their blood. The constellations of fathers and 
doctors shone out with brilliant splendor in the sky. Apostolic 
men went forth in crowds to evangelize the heathen nations. 
Idolatry was conquered, barbarism was gradually subjugated, the 
grand edifice of Christendom was built up. The history of these 
great achievements, the history of Christianity, of the church, 
of civilization, is the history of Catholicism. Our learned and 
large-minded opponents record this history, and they confess 
that the organic system of Catholicism centred in and crowned 
by the papacy was not only useful but morally necessary for 
carrying out the work begun by the apostles. 

Now, all the vital force and energy of Catholicism was de- 
rived from faith in its divine origin. What an absurd theory 
is that, and how fatal to belief in the divine origin of Christi- 
anity and the divine character of its Founder, which supposes 
that the Christianity of Christ failed after its first beginning, 
and was superseded by a new form, more powerful than the 
original religion. On this supposition, a human invention, in 
which genuine Christian principles, doctrines, and institutions 
were combined with delusions, errors, usurpations, and alien 
elements, was the instrument of Divine Providence for establish- 
ing that kingdom of God on the earth, whose foundations Christ 
and his apostles failed to lay in a solid and durable manner. 

It is absurd to suppose that the sages, saints, and martyrs 



7/2 



THE MOZARABIC RITE. [Sept., 



of early Christianity were either the subjects or the authors of 
a hallucination so extraordinary that it surpasses even the vis- 
ionary cosmogony of the Gnostics. 

It is equally absurd to suppose that Luther, Calvin, Cran- 
mer, Knox, and their compeers, re-discovered the lost type of 
genuine, apostolical Christianity. If Irenaeus, Cyprian, Athana- 
sius, and the Cyrils were so seriously mistaken as to ascribe 
to the apostles what was really a vast innovation on genuine 
Christianity, what value have the confused and conflicting theories 
of the disciples of the Reformation? It is still for them a matter 
of literary and scholarly research, of fine-spun criticism, and 
antiquarian investigation, what Christ and the apostles were sent 

by the Father to do and to teach. 

A. F. HEWIT. 



THE MOZARABIC MTE. 

THE Catholic Church points with pride to its past and pres- 
ent, distinguished alike by oneness of faith and practice ; and 
this unity is not marred or broken by such slight variations in 
detail as may exist, without the least prejudice to any one funda- 
mental principle relating to faith or morals. One of the greatest 
lights of the church in the generation just preceding our own 
remarks as one of the signs of its divine origin that, while never 
swerving from the straight line of faith and morals, in all times 
and amongst all peoples, it possesses an adaptability to all races 
and circumstances. In no episode of history is this more clearly 
shown than in that phase of its ritual called the Mozarabic Rite, 
in the cause of its existence, its continuance, and practical ex- 
tinction when the need for it had passed away. 

This name is associated with a long-continued struggle, last- 
ing for centuries, between devotion to duty on the one hand, and 
power and wealth and the influence of seductive surroundings 
on the other ; when to yield their faith meant a gain of all the 
world prizes most highly, and to adhere to it involved ridicule 
and oppression and being regarded as belonging to a conquered 
and hated caste. The central and most prominent point of this 
struggle was one of the oldest and most interesting cities in 
Spain, Toledo the venerable. After crossing the muddy Tagus, 
that almost encircles the city in its folds, the tourist who passes on 



.] THE MOZARABIC RITE. 773 

through the Moorish gateway covered with Arabic inscriptions 
and verses from the Koran, and reaches the grand old cathedral, 
massive and stern without but replete with decoration and grace 
within, is all unmindful of what its memories could teach him, 
of the courage and constancy of the small body of Christians 
whose principal place of worship this was. 

The war waged by the Moors to establish their supremacy 
in Spain was carried on with great cruelty. Their rule was to burn 
or slay, and if a few captives were spared, they were reserved for 
a worse fate, forced into servitude and employed in the lowest 
occupations. The destruction of churches, the massacre of the 
clergy, and the suppression of every external mark of religion 
were the sure consequences of Arabian success. Such severity 
roused the Christian population or at least that remnant which 
had not already fled with Pelayo to the mountain fastnesses of 
the northwest to the courage of despair ; and after their first 
easy victories the Moors were confronted by such obstinate re- 
sistance, especially in the siege of Toledo, a city whose possession 
was of vital importance to them, that they entered into com- 
promises with the inhabitants, which they had hitherto utterly 
refused to do. The city was forced to surrender, but on condi- 
tion that the Christians who wished to remain should be permitted 
to retain their property and allowed the free exercise of their re- 
ligion. These conditions were in part fulfilled, but in such a 
way as to increase their temptations to apostasy and render their 
steadfastness a subject of admiration and surprise. They were 
few in numbers, surrounded by a victorious and intellectual race 
willing to tolerate any difference that did not extend to religion ; 
if the Christians would but relinquish that, there was no bar to 
their advancement or identification with their conquerors. Their 
adherence to it caused them to be treated as a vanquished peo- 
ple, for while they retained their own churches and monasteries, 
had their own bishops, and were judged by their own tribunals 
when the matter to be decided related only to themselves and 
did not involve capital punishment, they were compelled to pay 
double the amount of tribute paid by the Moors, were heavily 
taxed for their church property, obliged to submit to circumcision 
and attend those schools where only Arabic was spoken, and 
their social position for some generations was intolerable. It was 
impossible that these circumstances should not influence their 
daily lives. In time they wore the Moorish dress, served in the 
Moorish armies, adopted Moorish manners ; hence they were given 
the name which has since distinguished them, and from them 



774 THE MOZARABIC RITE. [Sept., 

been attached to the liturgy in which they worshipped, of 
Mozarabes or Mu9arabes, meaning mixed Arabs. 

This liturgy was far more ancient than the name would 
imply, dating from the foundation of the church in Spain, and 
in its earlier form bearing slight traces of the Gothic ten- 
dency towards Arianism. It is sometimes incorrectly attributed 
to St. Isidore of Seville, who merely revised and rearranged 
it, a work entrusted to him by the Council of Toledo. A copy 
of this revised edition was given to each priest on his ordina- 
tion, to which he bound himself to adhere in the exercise of 
his ministry ; and it is said to have received the formal ap- 
proval of Pope John X. in 918. To this ritual the Catholics 
of Spain clung with tenacity during the long period of Mos- 
lem ascendency. Apart from the intrinsic merits of this rite, 
and they are universally admitted to be of a high order, both 
as to- its literary beauties and as a means of inspiring piety, 
it has a peculiar interest as a proof of the readiness of the 
Catholic Church to recognize the varying wants of her spiritual 
children, and to shape * her devotional exercises in conformity 
to these. Spiritual ends are advanced and encouraged by 
merely human means, and here a body of people kept true, 
under adverse surroundings, to their faith by concessions in 
mode of worship in which there was no question of a sacrifice 
of principle, but merely an acquiescence in race needs and con- 
ditions. Thus, more than once, when to insure uniformity 
throughout the Catholic world a strict revision of ritual was 
carried on, this little church was allowed to continue with its 
own ritual, alike indeed in spirit, but differing in form and 
expression from the established liturgy. Despite the efforts of 
some recent Protestant writers to see in the Mozarabic ritual 
the source of a non-Catholic church of the present, it contains 
repeated evidence, most clearly and expressly stated, of points 
denied by Protestants, such as the adoration of the Eucharist, 
Purgatory and prayers for the dead, the invocation of saints, 
the honor paid to relics, and the use of images, and breathes 
throughout the spirit that animates the Catholic Church of to- 
day. 

The ritual was characterized by wealth of imagery and 
fervent piety clothed in rich and glowing diction. It was longer 
and much more charged with ceremonial than ours, while being 
eminently popular in tone, both in the nature and form of its 
devotions, even to the point of making- the laity respond to 
the priest during part of the Mass ; and following the three 



1889.] THE MOZARABIC RITE. 775 

biblical lessons which preceded their offertory there was always 
an address to the people especially appointed for each day, 
always short and explanatory or illustrative. So careful were 
the pastors that this flock should have its spiritual sustenance 
in easy reach of all, that, Latin having fallen into almost entire 
disuse, so that few could read it, John, Bishop of Seville, 
translated the Bible into Arabic, the universal language of the 
people. It would be impossible in a magazine article to give 
any detailed account of so extensive a subject as the ritual of 
a church, or the copious extracts necessary for the full appre- 
ciation of its individualities and beauty, but a passing notice 
of some of the differences in the celebration of the Mass may 
not be without interest. 

The Introit varies with the festivals, but is always unlike ours; 
the Gloria follows, and on certain feasts the Canticle of the Three 
Young Men in the Fiery Furnace. Three lessons were appointed for 
great festivals. The lessons were taken not only from the his- 
torical and poetical books of the Old Testament, but even from 
Jesus Sirach ; and between Easter and Pentecost the lesson from 
the Old Testament was replaced by portions of Revelations. 
Two books were used in the celebration of the Mass, and the 
one called Liber offerentium was placed on the altar during the 
Gospel. The Creed was not said until just before the Pater 
Noster, in order "that the people might receive the Body and 
Blood of our Lord in Holy Communion with hearts full of 
fresh faith and love." The Preface was called the "Inference," 
it is supposed from the fact that the priest infers from the 
responses of the people that it is " meet and just to give 
thanks to the Lord." In pouring water into the chalice the 
priest said : " From the side of our Lord Jesus Christ blood 
and water are said to have flowed, and therefore we mix them 
that the merciful God may vouchsafe to sanctify both for the 
salvation of our souls." The' consecration began^ immediately 
after the Sanctus and a short prayer called the Post Sanctus, 
and during it the priest prayed : " Come, Jesus, good high- 
priest, in our midst as thou wast in the midst of thy disci- 
ples ; sanctify this oblation that it may be sanctified to us by the 
hand of thy holy angel, holy Lord and Redeemer. . . ." The 
celebrant divided the consecrated host into nine particles, each 
having a name corresponding to some incident in the life of 
our Lord, such as incarnation, birth, circumcision, transfiguration, 
death, resurrection, etc., and these he arranged on the paten, on 
which were engraved seven small circles forming a cross, in such 



776 THE MOZARABIC RITE. [Sept., 

a manner that each circle received one of the seven parts of 
the host ; the other two were placed on the paten to the right 
of the cross. After the breaking of the bread prayers were 
said for the afflicted, for the sick, for prisoners, and for the 
dead, during which the priest struck his breast as with us at 
the nobis quoque peccatoribus ; then taking one particle, he let it 
fall into the chalice, reciting certain prayers. The benediction 
of the people was now given, and then followed the commun- 
ion while the choir chanted, " Taste and you shall see how 
sweet is the Lord." 

The priest then took another particle, saying: " I receive 
the bread of heaven from the table of the Lord ; I will call 
upon the name of the Lord"; prayed for all sinners, recited 
Domine, non sum dignus, and consumed the particles in a 
prescribed order. Instead of the Missa est, he said: "The 
solemnities are finished, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ ; 
may our offering be accepted and peace vouchsafed." Con- 
stant supplications for peace are scattered throughout and in- 
corporated in the ritual, a touching reminder how precarious 
and longed for such a gift was to a subject people. 

So attached were the people and clergy to this ritual in its 
entirety that when, after the expulsion of the Moors and the 
return of Toledo to Christian rule, the king tried to take it 
from them and substitute the Roman in its place, there were 
uprisings among the people, and it was finally decided to have 
recourse to "the judgment of God." The king, court, and clergy, 
and an excited multitude gathered in the great plaza, in the 
centre of which a fire was lit; into this a copy of each liturgy 
was thrown. We are told that immediately the Gregorian book 
slid from the pile and laid to one side, while the other re- 
mained unburnt in the midst of the flames. This result of the 
ordeal caused exultation among the adherents of both sides, 
each maintaining that the fact of their book coming forth un- 
injured was convincing proof that Heaven favored it. To satisfy 
both parties, it was decided that the Gregorian liturgy should be 
used all over Spain, with the exception of six churches in Toledo 
and Leon, which should continue the use of the Mozarabic Rite. 
This permission was never retracted, but hotly as it had been 
contended for, it was not long before it ceased to be exercised. 
The Mozarabes soon became absorbed in their fellow-countrymen 
and co-religionists; and through intermarriages, and the gradual 
moulding into a national form, these differences rapidly died out; 
and in time the ancient rite was only celebrated on certain 



1889.] THE MOZARABIC RITE. 777 

festivals, and then as a "memorial service." Such was the case 
when Cardinal Ximenes visited Toledo. This great man, whose 
zeal for the increase of piety and learning was unflagging, had 
just built the beautiful library at Alcala, and while inspecting the 
documents of the Cathedral of Toledo was so impressed by the 
beauty, piety, and nobleness of thought of the Mozarabic liturgy 
that he set earnestly to work to save it from destruction. At 
his own expense he caused careful copies to be made, replaced 
the Gothic characters by Castilian, and printed both a Missal and 
Breviary. Both were formally approved of by Pope Julius II. 
These copies were so highly esteemed that Pope Paul III. sent 
to Toledo expressly to obtain some, which he placed in the Vat- 
ican Library as valuable monuments of the Spanish Church. In 
less than fifty years after the death of Cardinal Ximenes the 
books he had disseminated at the cost of much labor and money 
became so rare that a single missal sold for thirty ducats. In 
1755 a fresh publication was made, and it is stated that there is 
scarcely a Continental library of any repute that does not pos- 
sess a copy. 

Ximenes, not content with rescuing this liturgy from oblivion, 
determined to provide far its continuance as an office of the 
church in actual use, and to insure this end he erected a beau- 
tiful chapel to his cathedral at Toledo, gave it the name Ad 
Corpus Christi, instituted a college of thirteen priests called 
Mozarabes Sodales, which still exists, or at least did some three 
years ago. They were each day to celebrate the divine office 
and recite the canonical hours according to this rite. 

The formal approbation of Pope John X. to this rite has 
been questioned, and it is said that the proofs on which it rests 
are not beyond criticism, and Alexander II. and Gregory VII. 
contemplated replacing it by the Gregorian. But the fact re- 
mains that in its revised form it was approved of and enforced 
by the Council of Toledo, that for centuries it was recognized 
and countenanced by the Holy See, that it was regarded as a 
form of worship grateful to the people and as such allowed, 
until the strong prejudices of the people in its favor had yielded 
to the pressure of new surroundings, and they accepted with 
willingness the Gregorian liturgy ; that when in the process of 
time it fell into desuetude it was rescued by one of the 
greatest prelates of the church, who in this instance but com- 
pleted the wish of his predecessor in the primacy of Spain ; 
that his efforts in this direction were highly approved of by 
the pope, and that its beauties have received the commenda- 

VOL. XL1X. 50 



778 THE CLOSED HEART. [Sept., 

tion of many learned writers, ecclesiastical and laic. These facts 
are significant of a great vivifying principle which the Catholic 
Church acts on, to appreciate and correspond to the wants of 
its children, and make use of such external aids and methods 
of devotion as may in different times and under changed cir- 

I 

cumstances suit their exigencies. 

G. S. LEE. 



THE CLOSED HEART. 

IF I could enter in that heart, 

And for a season there abide, 
Its bolts and locks I'd rend apart, 

Its doors and windows open wide, 
And let the sunlight of God's sky 

Shine in each recess dim and cold, 
And let the breezes of God's earth 

Blow through its cobwebs oid : 

The music of this busy world 

Should through its dungeon bars be whirled, 

Its warmth and light should penetrate 

And draw each captive to his grate ; 

If slaves of sin or slaves of pride 

They be that in those cells abide, 

I'd free the slaves, the dungeons raze, 

Till one wide room with warmth ablaze 

Should there be found, and with the rest 

The fount of love within that breast, 

Placed there by Him, should be unsealed 

And all its plenty be revealed ; 

Its blood-springs leaping up therein, 

And love's and life's unceasing din 

Like music through the changed rooms pealed. 

Thus garnished, warmed, and opened wide, 

What royal guests might there abide ! 



MARGARET H. LAWLESS. 




1889.] THE LOVELINESS OF SANCTITY. 779 



THE LOVELINESS OF SANCTITY. 



.II. 



Is it necessary to say that the loveliness of St. Philip waxed 
brighter and more irresistible as the years of his beautiful life sped 
away ? Those years of his Christ-like ministry were an almost 
unbroken succession of miracles, crowned with the sweetest of all 
rewards, the winning of souls to serve God with a cheerful spirit 
We shall see how our saint succeeded in beguiling men of all 
ranks and of all ages to strive for righteousness. 

It is St. Philip the priest, and the founder of a community 
of priests, that we have to deal with now. As during the past 
few years, we shall still have to look for him in the hospitals, in 
the streets and shops, in the schools and churches of Rome ; but 
often, too, in his little room, either at San Girolamo or at the 
Valicella. There it will be ours to see him intimately, talk with 
him freely, learn from him the lessons we need most. He will 
teach us, this humble priest, whose delight was to be with the 
poorest and lowliest, and who never betrayed the least sub- 
servience to the highest, how to be humble, how to be dignified. 
The kind Padre Filippo will show us what the saints mean when 
they speak of "the easy ways of divine love." When we last 
saw him he was a simple layman at the age of thirty-six, with 
no thought of taking upon himself the awful responsibility of the 
priesthood, and this notwithstanding two distinct visions with 
which he was favored during his last year in the world, both 
seeming to intimate that it was under the consecration of holy 
orders he was to work henceforth. The first of these visions 
lasted but a moment. He saw St. John the Baptist, the beloved 
Florentine patron. Philip's soul was distressed with uncertainties 
as to the mode of immolation by which he should give his life to 
God. He was in doubt as to whether he should retire com- 
pletely from among men and work out his salvation in solitude, 
by prayer and fasting, or continue the busy life in which he 
had been engaged for the past sixteen years. In the fervor 
of his prayer for enlightenment, his heart hot within him> his 
mortal eyes were miraculously strengthened to see his beloved 
saint. The same instant he felt as a certainty that he should go 
on in the service of his brethren, work out his own salvation 



780 THE LOVELINESS OF SANCTITY. [Sept., 

and that of others through labor unceasing and through love that 
should know no rest. But he did not understand from all this 
that he was to be a priest. The whole ambition of his life at 
the close of his thirty-fifth year was to live mixed up with and 
lost in the crowd of men, poor amongst the poor; to do some 
little good, and to hope that from this might come some profit 
to the church of God. His hope was realized, as we can all at- 
test, but not exactly through the means that he, in his humility, 
had deemed the best. The charity of St. Philip has been beauti- 
fully manifested. Now for the supreme test of sanctity, his 
obedience. What must have been his consternation when, with- 
out any premonition, his confessor, Persiano Rosa, told him he 
must devote the remainder of his life to the service of God in 

i 

the sanctuary. Most respectfully but most firmly did Philip de- 
clare that such a step was not to be taken, could not be taken. 
However, on the command of the guide of his conscience he 



yields, and against his wishes he disposes himself to enter upon 
this holy state. 

Gladly and most profitably would we dwell upon the first year 
of St. Philip's priesthood ; but that initiatory year of his sublime 
ministry was to know no falling off, was .to be repeated with 
undiminished zeal and fervor, throughout all the forty-five 
years of his beautiful consecrated life. His first Mass and his 
lasj;, and all the Masses he said, were "like the opening of the 
heavens, a real foretaste of the eternal ecstasy." Whatever 
may have been the mystic yearnings of his soul for solitude, 
his will be a career of unbroken activity. His life shows us 
the true .meaning of the words, so mischievously interpreted to- 
day, idealist and realist ; he will show us how the ideal and 
the real may blend to make the perfect man. His biographer 
tells us that " Philip saying Mass was a sight of wonder and 
of awe ; his countenance was unwontedly animated, its expres- 
sion as of one looking into heaven. In all his movements 
there was great modesty, but at the same time a something 
that riveted the beholder. When he poured the wine into the 
chalice his hands trembled so he was obliged to support his 
arms upon the altar in order to perform the rite. When he 
took the chalice into his hands, a joy as of paradise filled his 
heart During the Offertory his whole body trembled visibly. 
When he had consecrated the sacred Species he felt himself 
rapt in God. Sometimes he could hardly lower his hands 
after the Elevation. At the Communion his joy overpowered 
him and he unconsciously betrayed it outwardly. . . . Very 






1889.] THE LOVELINESS OF SANCTITY. 781 

often his tears would flow abundantly during the Epistle and 
Gospel. ... In a word, although Philip did all he could 
to prevent anything out of the common way in saying Mass, 
and even forbade those who were present from kneeling where 
they could see his face, yet for more than forty years Philip's 
Mass was regarded as a miracle of holy fervor." 

If this be St. Philip at the altar, what must he be in the 
confessional, where it is given to the priests to realize those 
words, " Ye are other Christs " ? Let us go to him as he 
sits there, at that mystical well, waiting to give us of those 
living waters. " Philip was a confessor who was all charity 
and sweetness, and his charity and sweetness had a power 
which amazed all. He knew how to act as judge and teacher 
and physician of souls ; but his great delight was to feel him- 
self and to be felt by others a father. . . . Only to see 
him in the confessional diffused through the heart a mysterious 
and ineffable consolation. As a confessor he was irresistible. 
There was that about him that compelled all who came near 
him to love him, and in very truth, to love Philip was to be 
drawn mightily towards God." Nor need we wonder that his 
penitents were many and " of every rank in life." It was as a 
confessor he realized his desire of helping towards a holy 
reformation. He did not abandon the ministry of the word, 
in spite of the multitudes besieging his confessional ; nor did 
his mode of preaching differ after he became a priest from 
what we have already noted while he was only a layman. In 
all his exhortations his one desire was to set men's hearts 
aglow with love for God. Hence his sermons were familiar 
talks about the sweetness of God's service. The same guide 
who has led us to the saint's altar and to his confessional tells 
us how that " Philip's face, when he talked of God, was bright, 
almost fla~ning, with emotion, and the trembling and beating of 
his heart often shook the whole room. Often his emotion 
suspended his power of speaking; but then his look, his eyes, 
his tears, his agitation itself spoke more eloquently still to the 
heart and will of those who saw him. He divested his preach- 
ing of all that was abstruse, of all pomp of words." Need we 
query what was the fruit of such eloquence ? The more we 
study the evils of the sixteenth century the more we under- 
stand in what, sense St. Philip was an instrument of Provi- 
dence working for true reform, for the classic renaissance had 
gone far towards the total destruction of that simplicity which 
is the true characteristic of apostolic preaching. 



782 THE LOVELINESS OF SANCTITY. [Sept., 

We know through what means St. Philip's work was to pro- 
long itself even unto our day, nor can we here more than 
hint at the interesting details of the founding of his congrega- 
tion. In his abject opinion of himself, he could not easily face 
the fact that he was to be the founder of an order that in 
his own lifetime was to assume such proportions, to score such 
success as to deserve the formal approbation of papal authority ; 
but from the first year of his ordination his apostolate expanded 
and spread. He was the originator of an association that takes 
place with the valiant soldiers led on by Ignatius, the soldier- 
saint ; and yet St. Philip's children are bound by no other vows 
than those every priest makes. They scale the heights of 
evangelical perfection, luring multitudes after them, and yet 
make no formal profession of monastic life. He carried on his 
great work without proclamation, but he steadily and permanently 
kept his aim in view viz., to make men glad in the service of 
God. Not in vain has he been called "The Apostle of Rome," 
for he has already begun to change the face of the city, begun 
to show that the real reformation required is in the moral 
order, and that the teachings of the church, if put into practice, 
are all-sufficient to insure the note of holiness which belongs 
to her alone. Trent would formulate her dpctrine in such simple 
terms that the most unlettered can comprehend, and St. Philip 
has taught us how to express that doctrine in our daily lives. 
This was his share in the Reformation to show the possibility 
of holiness. The means he most successfully used was the fre- 
quent reception of the sacraments. He succeeded in bringing 
multitudes to confession, and many to daily Communion. 

The social position and character of those with whom we 
find him in ceaseless intercourse during this part of his life 
show us that his sphere of action was greatly extended. Not 
to the poor and ignorant alone did he now confine his minis- 
trations. He continued to go out to them, but the rich and 
the learned and 'the high-placed came to him, many of them 
to remain with him as co-laborers and as docile subjects. He 
was in closest relation with popes and cardinals, their friend 
and often, at their request, their counsellor and guide in matters 
the most important. Cardinal St. Charles Borromeo, and his 
nephew after him, the Cardinal Frederic Borromeo, were surely 
among those outside his spiritual family whom we may call 
his very dear friends. So were several eminent men of learn- 
ing in Rome, to say nothing of some of the popes and several 
cardinals. At* least twenty or thirty of the most remarkable 






1889.] THE LOVELINESS OF SANCTITY. 783 

among the members of the Sacred College are spoken of by 
his biographers as his "dear friends." 

Philip was far from dreaming that he would be looked upon 
and indeed be the central figure of a distinct organization, 
having rules and constitutions of its own. So far was he from 
realizing the exact lines which were to trace his work that a 
very short time before the definite assembling of his first 
Oratorians he was all on fire with the desire to go to India 
to share with St. Francis Xavier and so many others the 
labors of that great and dangerous mission. It became almost 
a settled determination with him to go with twenty zealous 
companions on the heroic expedition to those new fields. 
Obedience, the test of all true inspirations, must settle his 
anxieties on this question, as it had settled his doubts about his 
ordination. A holy priest, held in great sanctity by all Rome, 
and whom Philip consulted, received this answer for him from 
God after many prayers and serious consideration : " Your India 
is in Rome." Philip and his twenty companions at once en- 
tered heartily into the labor required of them in Rome. The 
Oratorians from the outset dwelt with St. Philip without any 
special rules, continuing their "labor of love" in the hospitals and 
schools, in the streets and churches. The period between 1558, 
the date of their organization, and 1584, when the formal papal 
approbation of the congregation was granted them, must be 
looked upon as the formation period. Not all the members 
were priests. Laymen were free to join them in the pious 
exercises, and, as Philip had done before his ordination, they 
frequently joined in the ministry of preaching, always, however, 
under the guidance of the priests. We may pause here to say 
that these times also demand above all things the harmonious 
co-operation of the laity with the clergy, " the glad unity of 
priests and people." "In this year 1558," says Philip's biographer, 
" the great change was that Philip would not any longer be the 
only preacher ; he charged Tarugi and Modio, both laymen, to 
speak on some Christian virtue, or on the lives of the saints, 
or on the history of the church. And shortly after this he 
chose three other laymen to preach ; chief of these was Cesare 
Baronio, now known as Cardinal Baronius, author of the Eccle- 
siastical Annals. All these followed with loving fidelity the style 
of preaching which Philip had introduced ; they preached almost 
every day, and always with great effect. When they spoke of 
God and of his kingdom it was as if Philip were speaking. 
Nor did the fact of their being laymen detract from the good 



784 THE LOVELINESS OF SANCTITY. [Sept., 

effect of their discourse, because their holiness clothed their 
words with authority, and every one recognized on them the 
impress of the master, whom all Rome regarded as a saint" 

Was St. Philip an exception to that law by which all the 
works of God are tried in the fire of tribulation? It would 
almost seem so, judging by the immediate happy fruits of his 
endeavors so far. But let us not be mistaken. St. Philip, who 
stands pre-eminent among the saints as the model of what we 
might term perennial cheerfulness, was not exempt from the 
law of suffering. H"e, too, must purchase that gladness of heart 
at the same price we have all to give for it sacrifices, humili- 
ations, trials of mind and heart and body. We can merely 
allude here to the sorest of all his tribulations, the accusation 
of innovation and novelty. Such a life as he and his com- 
panions were leading, such a seemingly new way of propagat- 
ing piety and all good works, the daily preaching, the frequent 
reunions for prayer and the singing of hymns, above all, the 
enthusiastic and ever-growing multitudes following him on those 
pilgrimages to the seven churches all these looked like inno- 
vations. By dint of well-schemed calumnies a storm of perse- 
cution burst upon him, all the more painful to him as the 
severest censures came from persons in authority, the very ones 
to whom he would naturally have turned for protection. We 
do not know exactly what the personal share of Pope Paul IV. 
was in thus afflicting the holy man, but certain it is he was 
for some time under the most unfavorable impressions relatively 
to the ways and means employed by the Oratorians, so artful 
and so seemingly discreet were the representations that had been 
made to him by some of the cardinals, who in their turn had 
been deceived. Many of these censors no doubt were in good 
faith, and were justified in exercising the severest prudence 
relatively to all that looked like individual initiative in matters 
religious, so extravagant were the pretensions of the would-be 
reformers. It is equally certain that the storm raised against 
these well-meaning and most submissive men was in its origin 
due to a wicked determination on the part of a few, and that 
they prevailed for a time. Philip was summoned by the car- 
dinal-vicar to answer the charges brought against him. This 
cardinal seems to have been of a violent disposition. He forbade 
Philip going with his companions to visit the seven churches, 
suspended him for a fortnight from hearing confessions, pro- 
hibited the exercises of the Oratory, ending his sentence with 
these words : " I am surprised that you are not ashamed of 



1889.] THE LOVELINESS OF SANCTITY. . 785 

yourself; you, who affect to despise the world, and yet go 
about enticing such numbers to follow you, all to win favor 
with the multitude and to work your way under the pretext 
of sanctity to some eminence or other." If this painful interview 
has been reproduced, it is solely for the purpose of enjoying 
the example of a saint meekly bowing before unmerited blame, 
and meekly, but at the same time grandly, defending himself. 
Silence in this case would seem a confession of guilt. Let us 
hear him : " I began these exercises for the glory of God, and 
for his glory I am ready to give them up. I look upon the 
commands of my superiors as above all things, and I gladly 
obey them now. I began the visits to the churches to recreate 
the minds of my penitents and to withdraw them from those 
occasions of sin which abound during the carnival. This was 
my purpose and no other." Is not this the very ideal of 
humility and manliness ? The judge was not, however, con- 
vinced. Let those who have suffered the unspeakable pain of 
rinding no trust where most of all they had reason to expect 
it say whether such a gentle, loving, trusting heart as Philip's 
was pierced with sorrow at his failure in convincing the car- 
dinal of his innocence. No blow could have hurt Philip more 
than this ; to be suspected of ambitious motives, of self-advance- 
ment, when his sole aim was to sacrifice himself for the advance- 
ment of God's kingdom. It was hard for him to see many of 
those who had followed him with the warmest expressions of 
devotedness now join in the cry against him. He gave up, 
as had been enjoined, the hearing of confessions, abstained from 
his beloved exercises. But not all his friends turned against 
him ; his penitents were not influenced by the evil reports ; 
warmly, almost indiscreetly, did they protest their unshaken 
trust in him. But so great was his respect for authority that 
he forbade them to throng about him, or to speak in any way 
of his enemies. This was putting their love to a sore test ; 
nor were they all as obedient as he was, and they would 
linger in the streets to look at him with affectionate sadness 
and then follow him afar off. The words by which he explained 
to them these trials it were well for us to commit to memory: 
" God desires to make me humble and patient, and when I 
have gathered from this trial the fruit he wills me to gather 
it will pass away." 

He was right. The trial did not last very long after that, 
yet he used no other means than prayer. His enemies acknowl- 
edged their wrong. Not only all the restrictions were removed, 



/86 THE LOVELINESS OF SANCTITY. [Sept., 

but Philip, till the end of his long life, had only one thing to 
fear, too much joy of heart. After the great storm of oppo- 
sition had passed, his followers became more numerous than 
ever ; many distinguished scholars sought admittance to the 
Oratory, and after due probation were gladly enrolled as his co- 
workers. It was Pope Gregory XIII., in 1584, who definitely 
and in a full brief gave the seal of stability to the beloved 
congregation of the holy priest by a formal approbation. Most 
delightful and profitable would be a digression here in favor 
of that noble brotherhood. Most edifying are the insights 
Capecelatro gives us into the beauty of heart and intellect of 
those earliest fathers of the Oratory, especially of that profound 
genius and child-like admirer of St. Philip, the learned Baronius. 
Nor can we, in a necessarily condensed sketch, tell of all the 
works of St. Philip himself as a founder, as a counsellor of 
men in high places, as a great and effective reformer. Our 
study is perforce more intimate ; it is to St. Philip as our teacher 
in matters of daily practice. St. Philip was especially com- 
missioned to show God to the world as a loving Father. We 
have long , since found that out in the gentleness of the saint, 
in his love so incessantly manifest, in his joyous interpretation 
of life. We must, if we cultivate the friendship of Philip, get 
nearer to a realization of those sweet words, " My delight is 
to be with the children of men." He teaches us also how 
much more effective for the cure of pride and obstinacy are 
the mortifications of the spirit than the mere macerations of 
the body. Nor need we fear any illusion. If we readily adopt 
his direction the flesh will not be pampered, though he ever 
leans to clemency. He was of an extraordinary considerateness 
in regard of fasting and abstinence, of watching, and other bodily 
penances. But what appalling compensations do we observe 
when it comes to the mortifying of the spirit ! Here the 
gentle saint was merciless. Baronius and Galloni and many 
others of the most brilliant scholars of his community would 
tell us that the most rigid fasts, the severest scourgings, seemed 
luxuries compared with some of the practices he enjoined on 
them as calculated to give them practical illustrations of what 
St. Paul means when he speaks of the " foolishness of the cross," 
Let us gather a few of this sublime master's maxims. He says : 
The whole stress of a Christian life is in the mortification of 
the razionale" "All the holiness of a man lies here, within 
the breadth of three fingers," touching his forehead. "My sons, 
humble your minds, submit your judgments." "See that you 



1889.] THE LOVELINESS OF SANCTITY. 787 

conquer yourselves in Tittle things." From him, as from no 
other, may we learn how to be sad and how to be glad. 
There is a Christian sadness, but there is nothing morbid about it. 
The longer we shall have lingered in St. Philip's " school of 
Christian mirth," as his humble room was called, the more 
correct will be our definition and use of sadness. The pre- 
vailing tone of our nineteenth-century literature is not exultant. 
St. Philip knows better ; let us hear him. His own glad, merry 
heart dictated such principles as the following: "Don't want 
to do everything in a day, or dream of becoming a saint in four 
days." " My sons, be cheerful. I want you never to commit sin, 
but to be always gay of heart." " A cheerful spirit attains to per- 
fection much more readily than a melancholy one." "I will have no 
scruples, no low spirits." Perhaps we could have caught his secret if 
we could have seen the smile on his face when he said these things. 
A proof that his theories were realizable is that innumerable were 
the cures he effected on souls suffering from melancholy and 
scruples. We are told that many felt their vapors vanish by 
merely looking at him. All agreed that in the art of com- 
forting there was none like him- in all Rome. Perhaps the 

* 

lesson almost as hard to learn as perpetual cheerfulness is 
simplicity. Philip's age, like ours, was an age of extremes ; 
with all his unworldliness, with all his child-like artlessness in 
dealing with the astute, the ambitious and the learned, he 
knew how to say the right word at the right time ; he had 
but to respond simply and at once to the dictates of his 
great heart. It would be necessary to do violence to our 
sense of harmony to doubt for a moment of the truth of what 
his biographers tell us when they say " he was all his life 
long absolutely frank, plain, and simple simple in his dress, his 
gestures, his walk, and in everything." 

St. Philip, like all the saints, had the spirit of prayer. 
There can be no exaggeration in speaking of his extraordinary faith 
in prayer. He tells us that " to learn to pray, the best means 
is the sense of our unworthiness ; that he who wishes to pray 
without mortifying himself is like a bird trying to fl>* without 
being fledged." " Be humble and obedient, and the Holy Spirit 
will teach you to pray." He used often to say: "Now that 
I have time to pray, O Lord, I can obtain from thee all I 
want." If his preaching was talking of God, surely his pray- 
ing was the most confidential talking to God. Yet he was ever 
lowly in mind, and urged others often to say his own much- 
repeated prayer : " O Lord, put no trust in me, for I shall 



788 THE LOVELINESS OF SANCTITY. [Sept., 

surely fall if thou uphold me not." He saw God mirrored in 
the beauty of the universe, and loved to pray in the open 
air, drawing from nature his incentives to make " Sweet melody 
in his heart," to "rejoice always," which is a high form of 
prayer. He particularly loved the scriptural words of praise 
and invocation. His great object seems to have been to famil- 
iarize men with God through attractive devotions. Nor can we 
question his success. He popularized the church services by 
bringing the people together often and in great numbers for 
prayer and the singing of hymns. He brought them to daily 
Mass and frequent Communion. He ignored no means that 
might help to teach men to love the beauty of the house of 
God. All the world knows what he did to secure the highest 
musical genius of his day to co-operate with him ; the good 
and great Palestrina was on the friendliest terms with St. Philip 
and the Oratory. Philip's gentle, loving, and tender nature, 
together with his vivid imagination, disposed him from his youth 
to love music. He found in it both the source and the nature 
of his holy inspirations. His intimate relations with the best 
musicians of Rome, especially with Palestrina, 

" Who o'er the others like an eagle soars," 

brings St. Philip in close connection with the reforms and ad- 
vances music made in the sixteenth century. 

Had we not already noted what may be called so many 
predominant passions in this great heart, we might say his love 
for children was his passion. He loved to go from church to 
church followed by troops of them, and many a frolic he en- 
joyed with them in the pleasant halting-places during those pil- 
grLnages. Their noisy mode of enjoyment never wearied him. 
Those who iiave lived in Rome tell us of the surpassingly 
beautiful prospect that spreads before the eye from the Jani- 
culum hill, where stands the church of Sant' Onofrio. The 
lovers of Tasso go there to visit the spot where the great 
poet rested while awaiting the crowning honors which at last 
were to be conferred upon him, and where he died on the 
day he was to receive the laurel wreath. But especially inter- 
esting to the Romans is this beautiful place on account of the 
pleasant memories of San Filippo that hang about it ; here is 
where he most of all loved to lead up his followers for those 
open-air devotions and recreations ; here is where he would often 
have one of his boys preach a short sermon he had learned 



.] THE LOVELINESS OF SANCTITY. 789 

by heart; where they would sing and then play. How could 
the young help but love him? he was always so sprightly and 
gay, even veiling his miracles with gentle jests. He had a 
smile and pleasant word for each ; he would put up with all 
their pranks that he might keep them near him ; they might 
be as merry , and as noisy as they liked, provided they did 
not sin. He knew how to keep them from danger by cease- 
less activity. They played with such zest because he had made 
them work with diligence. He feared nothing more than melan- 
choly and idleness. 

This man, whom we saw at the debut of hie career in 
Rome sell his books and renounce the charms of study, knew 
too well the needs of the times to ignore the powerful in- 
strument for good that was to be found in learning; hence, 
with the same eagerness with which he for a time deprived 
himself of books did he return to them and enjoin study as 
one of the most serious obligations of his brethren. We have 
but to read the history of the Oratory better still, the works 
of its great scholars to feel that with all his simplicity and 
humility St. Philip was a leader in the ways of knowledge. 
The saint himself, though always so devoted to the ministry 
in the churches and hospitals, was ingenious in finding time 
for such mental relaxations as the writing of graceful sonnets 
and the reading of valuable books. We have to deplore, how- 
ever, the humility which led him to destroy many treasures. 
We have but few of his letters, sufficient, though, to prove 
that he possessed the charm of comforting and enlightening 
and saving no less through his written words than through his 
spoken utterances. The few letters we possess are addressed chiefly 
to the members of his congregation after the Oratory had be- 
come established in Naples and elsewhere. Some delightful 
ones we find to his nieces (children of the two sisters he left 
in Florence so many years ago). Two of these nieces were 
nuns, and what a kind though rigid director he was ! Even 
in our day of vaunted learning, of German and New-England 
transcendentalism, St. Philip, considered as a scholar and a lover 
of scholars, would be justly entitled to the so often misap- 
plied term of "a strong intellectual personality." What poor 
figures some of our sages would cut beside this man, who 
really can enjoy the simple joys of life, whose enthusiasm lasts 
all his life long! 

This Philip, in whom miracle, prophecy, vision, and ecstasy 
combine to reveal his sanctity, the saint in whom " the pro- 



790 THE LOVELINESS OF SANCTITY. [Sept., 

phetic light had become the habit of his soul," is for the 
nineteenth century as he was for the sixteenth, a teacher, a 
messenger sent from God. " In season and out of season, 
through good report and evil report, he was vigilant and faith- 
ful in his ministry. Raised far above his fellow-men by the holi- 
ness of his life and the greatness of his gifts, he was yet the 
lowliest of men, acquainted with infirmity and suffering. The 
greatest marvel of his long life is the amount of labor accom- 
plished by one so frail in body, and so often afflicted with 
most painful trials of illness. He suffered almost without ceas- 
ing from the day of his miraculous enlargement of heart in 
the catacombs of San Sebastiano to the day of his release 
from earth. Many times his physicians pronounced him at the 
point of death." 

Reluctantly omitting many more aspects of his loveliness, it 
remains for us to witness the departure of his gentle soul from 
this world, which he loved for the sake of Him who died to 
redeem it, and in which he had proved himself a good and 
faithful steward. We have tried to learn from him how to 
live ; let us now learn from him how sweet is death for those 
who have rightly understood life. " His last days," says his 
biographer, " were beautiful as the close of a serene and 
cloudless day. . . . He died on the 26th of May, 1595. As early 
as the month of February of that year his children knew they 
must resign themselves to lose him. Frequent hemorrhages 
brought him several times in that interval to what seemed his 
last agony ; and as many times was he given back, seemingly 
with all his vigor and power of action ; but, the end was 
indeed drawing near. The light of prophecy that had 
shone in his soul all those long years of his career in Rome 
was brighter than ever. He spoke with unhesitating assurance 
of the exact time of his death, foretold several events of im- 
mediate occurrence, was present at the death of some of his 
friends, although he was unable to leave his room. Many 
startling things are told us in connection with the last few 
months of his sojourn among his dear ones. The affection that 
glowed in his heart for all his beloved Filippini seemed to 
grow more intense, and eagerly did he grasp every opportunity 
to show those who were so soon to lose his visible presence 
that he lo.ved them unto the end. He said his last Mass on 
the 25th of May. It happened to be the Feast of the Most 
Holy Sacrament, having heard many confessions before, and 
spoken lengthily with some of his penitents, giving them such 



1889.] THE LOVELINESS OF SANCTITY. 791 

instructions as would lead them to understand he was .speaking 
to them for the last time. He embraced all who came to him 
that morning with great tenderness, with more than was his 
usual way.'.' From the little chapel where he said his last 
Mass he could see the beautiful hill where stood his most 
loved resort, Sant' Onofrio. He was observed to stop and look 
long and fixedly at the hill to which he had so often led his 
happy children. "At the Gloria in excelsis he began to sing' 
as one would whose feet already stood on the threshold of 
everlasting jubilation. " Throughout the rest of the Mass the 
joy of his heart modulated his voice at times to a chant, so 
that his last Mass stands alone and without parallel in his life. 
It impressed all who were present with amazement and a mys- 
terious delight ; after giving Communion to a large number of 
friends, some of the fathers brought him a little soup to re- 
vive his strength. As he took it he turned to those who 
were standing by and said : ' These men think I am quite 
cured; but they are mistaken.' The whole day was one of 
more than usual activity, hearing confessions, receiving his friends, 
and participating in all the offices of the festival ; his manner, 
however, clearly indicated that he was bidding farewell to all 
for the last time. His physician, who came to see him in the 
evening, assured him he was better 'than he had been for ten 
years ; yet a mysterious awe dwelt in the hearts of all the 
fathers. As he retired late that night he was heard to say : 
'Well, last of all, one has to die.' Shortly after he asked 
what time it was, and when, he was told that the third hour 
of the night had just struck he said, as if talking to himself: 
' Three and two are five, three and three are six, and then 
we shall go away.' He would allow no one, however, to watch 
with him, but ' d* the sixth hour of the night,' says Father 
Galloni, ' he began to walk about his room, whereon I, wjiose 
room was under his, awoke and ran quickly to see what was 
the matter. I found him sitting on his bed, his throat so full 
of blood that I feared he would choke. He told me simply 
that he was dying.' The alarm naturally was soon given, but noth- 
ing his mourning sons or his devoted physicians could do for 
him brought any relief; it was indeed his last struggle. He 
begged them to trouble themselves no more about remedies, 
for he was to die. He was sitting upright on the side of his 
bed when the angel of deliverance came. Baronius, his beloved 
friend, his docile son, read the prayers. He heard the physi- 
cians' assurance that their dear father was dying ; he turned 



792 THE LOVELINESS OF SANCTITY. [Sept, 

from them to Philip, and with a loud, appealing voice, said : 
' Father, father, we entreat you, give us at least your blessing. 
Are you leaving us without a word ? ' Philip had closed his 
weary eyes to this world, but at the appeal of those he had 
always loved so warmly he opened them once more, raised 
them towards heaven, kept them fixed there a while, and then 
with a loving smile, as ii his prayer were heard, he looked 
around upon them and slightly moved his hand as if in bless- 
ing ; and then, without another sign of effort or pain, he heaved 
one deep sigh and gently fell asleep in the Lord." Philip's 
formal canonization was pronounced by Pope Gregory XV. on 
the 1 2th of March, 1622, at the same time with Isidore 
Agricola, Ignatius Loyola, Francis Xavier, and Teresa. 

The popularity of the " dear father ' has not decreased in 
Rome ; the Valicella is a place of constant pilgrimage. He lives 
in the memories of his dear Romans, and his works continue 
as if he were there among them in person as of yore. Gui- 
de's painting of the saint is the one most prized; it has about 
it an air and a fragrance of Paradise. It represents him in 
ecstasy. It was repeated several times by Guido himself. We 
may see a copy of it in the saint's room at the Valicella, and 
it is beautifully reproduced in the exquisite mosaic of his 
chapel. There are many paintings of the darling saint in 
Rome, all vying with each other in expressing that nameless 
charm which in life he used so successfully in luring souls 
after him to learn how sweet is the service of God and how 
lovely are his tabernacles. 

M. L M. 






1889.] I79 1 A TALE OF SAN DOMINGO. 793 



A TALE OF SAN DOMINGO. 

CHAPTER IV. . 
A DISCUSSION. 

UPON the departure of his guest, Colonel Tourner at once 
sought his daughter, and learned the character of the communi- 
cation Henry Pascal had made to her. They agreed it would 
be better to defer speaking to Madame Tourner of the expect- 
ed removal till the morrow. She was taking, as usual with 
her, a lively concern in the preparations for the " Crop Over." 
A lady of fashion though she was, she had at heart warm, 
tender sympathies, and, sincerely interested in the welfare and 
happiness of the slaves, and personally attached to many of them, 
the " Crop Over ' was just the event to awaken her kindheart- 
edness. On these occasions her best stores were spread with- 
out stint before them, and she was now busily adding to her 
stock of guava jelly and other delicacies, and superintending 
with great spirit the general arrangements for the feast to the 
great delight of her husband, who was well known for his hu- 
manity towards his slaves, and encouraged to the utmost such 
exhibitions of domestic zeal. 

The colonel expressed his determination, in view of the in- 
creasing lawlessness, to ride over to the Cape early next morning, 
and, if proper provisions had been made, to remove thither im- 
mediately, in which proposed step his daughter warmly sus- 
tained him. 

The afternoon brought an unexpected and, under all the 
circumstances, an unwelcome visitor in the person of M. Tardiffe. 
He had that morning ridden over to Doudon to see some 
friends. Calling at Belle Vue on his way back to the Cape, he 
accepted a pressing invitation from his bonne amie, Madame 
Tourner, to stay to the "Crop Over." 

M. Tardiffe was a thorough type of the Frenchman of the 
period. A retrousse nose and a pair of small, bright eyes oc- 
cupied their usual place in an oval, clean-shaven, and secretive 
countenance. He was marked by a stoop in the shoulders, 
used glasses, and addressed one with a suspicious kind of smile 
and turned-up cast of the eyes. The ordinary conception of a 
VOL, XLIX. 51 



794 7 7P 7 A TALE OF' SAN DOMINGO. [Sept., 

t 

gentleman he very well realized, being skilled in the accomplish- 
ments of the day, well-informed, polished, and agreeable, but 
withal was vain, insincere, vindictive, and dissolute though his 
pretensions were otherwise. 

Preparations in hand for the " Crop Over ' gave Madame 
Tourner and her daughter satisfactory excuses for absence, and 
during the afternoon Colonel Tourner and his guest were together 
alone. Conversation almost necessarily turned upon politics and 
colonial affairs, which, though apparently not so threatening as 
they had been a month or two before, were yet threatening 
enough, and were in the heart and on the lips of every 
one. 

It was a period when the strifes of factions had become 
merged into a sentiment of intense hostility to the mother 
country. At the beginning of revolutionary activity, and with 
an eye to the preservation of slavery, the planters were a unit 
for legislative independence, it being justified in their view by 
the intelligence and wealth of the colony and the impossibility 
of speedy communication with France over the wide ocean 
between them. They argued that the local affairs of the planters 
would be best administered by the planters themselves, and that 
in periods of excitement and danger prompt and prudent action 
by those on the ground and familiar with all the circumstances 
might often be essential to the life of the colony. 

But as the tendency towards enfranchisement of the colored 
races developed in the National Assembly, other parties arose. 
Some and among these was Colonel Tourner favored a British 
protectorate ; others desired colonial independence under the gen- 
eral guardianship of the European powers ; others were monarchists, 
or friends of the late regime; whilst others were republicans. 
To the latter party belonged M. Tardiffe, who was conspicuous 
for championing the shifting sentiments of the National Legis- 
lature. 

These divisions greatly weakened the cause of the whites. 
They were suddenly healed, however, by the effect of the I5th 
of May decree, which terminated the embittered struggle in the 
enfranchisement of the mulattoes. For two years the colony had 
been in uproar, often in arms ; but the storm that burst upon 
receipt of the news of this decree was unparalleled. With the 
exception of a few inveterate republicans, all parties at once 
became consolidated against the mother country. In the North- 
ern province, and especially in its capital, Cape Fran9ois, the 
feeling was exceptionally intense. A motion was made in the 






.1889.] 179 1 A TALE OF SAN DOMINGO. 795 

Provincial Assembly, then in session at the Cape, to reject the 
-civic oath and raise the British flag. A deputation was forth- 
with despatched to France to intercede for the repeal of the 
obnoxious decree, the execution of which the governor-general 
at the peril of his life was forced to suspend until the result of the 
embassy should be ascertained. The hopes thus raised had abated 
.somewhat the outward agitation ; a deep and wrathful feeling 
nevertheless remained. 

The mulattoes, on their part, furious at the palpable in- 
justice done them and the cowardly conduct of the governor- 
general, sullenly awaited the aid of the French government 
The disastrous issue of former conflicts alone restrained them 
from open hostilities. The two parties thus stood at daggers 
drawn, and a dreadful sense of uncertainty and insecurity per- 
vaded the colony. 

At this crisis M. Tardiffe, alone among the prominent 
-citizens of the Cape, remained attached to the republican cause, 
-even up to the point of justifying the I5th of May decree. 
A close observer of events in France, he foresaw the triumph 
of the extreme republicans, and having no property interests 
in San Domingo to be affected by the immediate results of 
the Jacobin policy towards universal liberty, he was influenced 
by a not uncommon political incentive, the wish to be on the 
winning side. He predicted the speedy emancipation of the 
^slaves, and even went so far as to hold that it would be to 
the ultimate benefit of the colony. These opinions, freely ad- 
vocated in public, drew upon him an excessive degree of odium. 
On more than one occasion violence was offered him, and his 
life being seriously threatened, he took the advice of friends 
and for a period withdrew from the Cape, remaining at Dou- 
<don, where he had relatives. Under these circumstances, he 
became exceedingly popular with the mulattoes and blacks, 
and suddenly rose to great influence over them. His name 
was everywhere on their lips, and far and wide he was 
known as Vami des noirs. He was now at the Cape again, 
for the excitements had sensibly declined. But his opinions he 
Jheld very quietly, and, though no craven, deemed it advisable 
to withdraw almost entirely from 'public view. 

Restless under this mental repression and seclusion, it was 
with a sense of relief that he discussed affairs with Colonel 
Tourner. Their opinions differed widely. But on former occa- 
sions they had amicably debated their differences, and though 
the colonel understood the character of his guest, and had no 



796 //P 7 A TALE OF SAN DOMINGO. [Sept.,,. 

special admiration for him, yet M. Tardiffe's manner was con- 
ciliating, and the latter felt safe in giving free expression to* 
his views. 

On Colonel Tourner's part the conversation at the outset 
was reluctant and cold. The interview with Henry Pascal 
had left him abstracted and moody, and he would greatly 
have preferred his visitor's absence. His heart, however, held 
a heated current of thought, which, struck by M. Tardiffe,,,. 
soon sent glow into the dialogue. 

The discussion bore upon negro capability and the effects, 
of emancipation in San Domingo, topics on which the colonel 
bristled with points. He had given the " negro ' thorough 
consideration. For a number of years his leisure hours had 
been employed in researches into San Domingo history, and 
he had become deeply -interested in the character and pitifull 
fate of the indigenes ; so much so, indeed, as to have en- 
tertained thoughts of writing a history of the island. The 
negroes, who were introduced to replace the exterminated 1 
natives, had been embraced within these studies, and the recent 
wretched condition of affairs and the tendencies towards emanci- 
pation had naturally stimulated inquiry into the capabilities; 
and future status of the race. 

The conversation towards the close was upon the effects of 
emancipation in San Domingo, and waxed warm indeed, es- 
pecially on the colonel's part. A knowledge of the brewing 
plot gave his words a peculiar point and bitterness which, ira 
view of the apparently improved condition of affairs, was a, 
constant source of surprise to M. Tardiffe. He could not: 
understand it, and was often astonished at the vehemence ot 
his host. 

For an hour or two the discussion ran on, for and against: 
emancipation, M. Tardiffe representing the radical sentiments,, 
of the French National Assembly, the colonel those of the Sam 
Domingo planters. Warned by the stroke of the six o'clock 
plantation-bell, the . latter brought the conversation to a close,, 
as follows : 

"But, monsieur, I must allow time for your toilet. A word 
more: You are not to think I am in any sense a foe to the: 
blacks. My life as a master is a pledge the other way. t 
know some noble negroes. My opinion of the race, as drawn* 
from long observation and study, has been given. I hold that; 
the three great divisions of the human family black, yellow ;> 
white should develop within themselves towards their respective 



'1889.] ijqiA TALE OF SAN DOMINGO. 797 



bounds, these being a half-civilized, civilized, and enlightened 
state." 

With these words Colonel Tourner rang up the valet and placed 
M. Tardiffe in his charge. The latter was soon busy at his 
toilet, which he elaborated with true French art and under the 
-stimulus of meeting Emilie Tourner; and if thoughts in regard 
to her predominated, he yet retained a vigorous impression of 
the conversation in which he had just participated, and the, 
reflection would come up that Colonel Tourner was a needle-witted 
'Opponent, and bristled all over with " negro ' points. 



CHAPTER V. 
THE "CROP OVER." 

It was an hour later when M. Tardiffe entered the draw- 
ing-room. His dress was strictly fashionable, and in the style, 
as far as tropical climate allowed, developed with the advance 
of the French Revolution: the coat long, and buttoning at the 
waist, whence it sloped off" upwards and downwards, with a 
collar spreading upon the shoulders ; the waistcoat open at the 
throat; breeches rather close-fitting and extending to the middle 
of the calf, where they were met by half-top boots ; the cravat 
was tied loosely in bows, and the hair was worn long and 
gathered in a queue. 

Emilie Tourner appeared in a style of simple elegance. The 
light muslin dress was short- waisted, and fell in straight, loose 
folds to her feet The sleeves, tight on the upper arm, ex- 
panded from the elbow, and terminated in a fringe of rich lace. 
About the throat a white handkerchief, with a flavor of lav- 
ender-water, was adjusted in such a. manner as to represent, 
according to the fashion of the times, the breast of a pigeon; 
her coiffure was made en boucles, after the prevailing mode, the 
front hair forming a light mass of short curls with the back 
hair flowing, and she displayed a few pieces of rare bijouterie, 
a style of adornment for which Creole young ladies generally 
:show a passion. The only addition to the company was the 
manager in white dittoes, M. Fanchet, the usual guest of the 
proprietor on these occasions. 

Tea was taken rather quietly. The colonel had been so free 
in speech during the afternoon that rest was natural. Emilie 
Tourner was noticeably abstracted, and wore a pensive look. 



798 ifyiA TALE OF SAN DOMINGO. [Sept.,, 



The conversation was chiefly confined to M. Tardiffe and Madame 
Tourner, the latter being in high spirits, and entertaining her 
guest in the gracious and charming manner of which she was 
the mistress. 

After tea, she invited the company to an inspection of the 
festive tables. M. Tardiffe escorted Emilie Tourner, the latter 
protected against the dangerous dew by a hat trimmed with 
bows of ribbon and of great expanse of border, and the former 
by a peculiar palm chapeau, which among San Domingo- 
fashionables replaced the flat, round brim and tall, conical 
crown of the Parisian beaver. 

The scene illustrated the proverbial loveliness of moonlight 
evenings in the West Indies. The clouds had all fled. The 
atmosphere, purified by the recent rain, was perfectly clear, and 
sweet with the odor of roses and lemon-flowers. The stars- 
shone brilliantly. Myriads of fire-flies sparkled in the trees, and 
the mild radiance of the rising gibbous moon was paling the 
light of the many-colored lanterns that at every turn illumi- 
nated the grounds. 

Cooking in the West Indies is done in small charcoal fur- 
naces and out-of-door brick ovens, and for the two preceding days 
Madame Tourner had been taxing her resources in this direction. 
The result was the rich and bountiful feast spread beneath a 
branching mango. Fowls, hams, Guinea-birds, turkeys, flying- 
fish, butter-fish, pastry, tarts, guava jelly, preserved ginger, 
custard apples, pineapples, melons, etc., with jorums of lemon- 
ade and tamarind water, made a feast fit for a king. 

Two dishes prepared especially for the negro taste were 
opossum and agouti, the latter larger than a rat and less than 
a rabbit, somewhat resembling both, and eaten by West India 
negroes with the gout of an alderman for turtle. A small 
table of honor was arranged apart for the " drivers ' or field 
overseers. These commonly were old negroes of tried fidelity, 
who, under the white manager, superintended field-work. The 
single addition of turtle, served with rum punch, varied its. 
viands from the general cheer. 

The tables were in charge of a number of trusted servants, 
to whom Madame Tourner now gave some parting directions, 
when the company proceeded to the lawn in front of the 
mansion, where, as the boisterous mirth indicated, a large 
assemblage of jovial " darkies ' were having a " high ' time. 

The negro disposition is eminently social, and convivial, and 
the beautiful moonlight evenings in the tropics are their de- 



1889.] //P 7 A TALE OF SAN DOMINGO. 799 

light. They are great chatterers, and will keep late hours spin- 
ning yarns and telling " Nancy ' stories, or tales of ghosts and 
goblins, which West India negroes call "jumbees." The slaves, 
too, often gave "parties "or balls, to which not uncommonly, 
it must in truth be added, the larders and wardrobes of their 
masters and mistresses were made to furnish liberal contribu- 
tions. Dancing is a passion, and on these occasions they fre- 
quently " do ' with skill and grace the prevailing styles, which 
their imitative powers have caught from their owners. During 
the soiree at the mansion one might often see the slaves on 
the green beneath the open windows, executing with extra 
agility and chuckling delight the various " sets ' at the call of 
the musician. 

Near the centre of the lawn, in front of the mansion, the 
carpets had been spread for dancing. The musicians 1 a fiddler, 
a tambourine-player, and a man beating what is called a tri- 
angle were seated on an elevated platform, where they did 
duty with a gravity befitting their office. Beneath them was 
a crowd of lively blacks, looking as pleased as Punch, and all 
in holiday rig. The slaves were excessively vain of their per- 
sonal appearance, and, if necessary, would go in rags during 
the week to have something to wear on a fete day or at a 
" party." The men on this occasion wore woollen caps, the 
dews being heavy and dangerous. The women were tricked 
out in different styles of flashing kerchiefs twisted into high 
turbans, gaudy gowns, many-colored sashes, and a profusion of 
cheap ornaments. 

In the midst were the dancers " doing, ' in their turn, 
Scotch reels and quadrilles with intense gout and joyousness. 
Encircling these was a throng of blacks constantly moving in 
and out among themselves and giving vent to a thousand gay 
sallies, cracking their ready jokes upon the manners and cus- 
toms of the " buckras," and breaking now and then into loud 
and glad laughter at some of their witticisms, the point ot 
which it was often difficult to see. The jabber was immense 
On the outside crowds of little blacks as plump as puddings 
were gambolling and cutting capers over the green. 

They were a lively set free and easy, for the occasion, was 
privileged, yet perfectly well-ordered bubbling over with the 
merriment born of a jovial temperament and superb physique ; 
and their healthy, contented, happy countenances reflected the 
care of a benevolent master. 

At the instance of her maid, who was a reigning belle, 



8oo 7/p/ A TALE OF SAN DOMINGO. [Sept., 

and now craved the aid of her young mistress in completing 
her personal adornment, Emilie Tourner returned for a few 
moments to the mansion. The colonel, in expectation of a so- 
journ at the Cape, was conferring with Manager Fanchet in re- 
gard to plantation affairs ; and M. Tardiffe saw the coveted op- 
portunity for a word in private with Madame Tourner. 

He had kept himself thoroughly informed as to the circum- 
stances both of the elder and the younger Pascal, and was 
cognizant of their unsatisfactory condition. This, indeed, was a 
common remark among the Pascals' acquaintances. For Henry 
Pascal he professed friendship, was not unfrequently in his 
company, knew of the Harrison offer, and had discovered by 
adroit and apparently casual inquiries that acceptance was not 
improbable. He often ' dropped in at the Hotel de Ville, it 
being a news centre and resort for men of wealth and leis- 
ure, and was aware of the elder Pascal's arrival and taking 
apartments an hour after the event Putting all this and the 
on dits of the Cape together, his shrewd and interested intelli- 
gence had drawn conclusions and concocted insinuations which 
he was most desirous to communicate to Madame Tourner. He 
therefore at once joined her and proposed a turn in the 
grounds. 

" Verily, I must congratulate you," he said. " The banquet your 
kindness has prepared for these blacks is really sumptuous." 

"The colonel, monsieur, allows me a carte blanche on these 
occasions." 

" I trust, too, madame, your efforts will be justly appre- 
ciated, and that the black taste may not discard your delica- 
cies for 'possum fat and agouti." 

The expression, though highly ill-bred, was a natural one 
under the circumstances, and had a logical connection in M. 
Tardiffe's mind. His aim was to lodge among Madame Tourner's 
thoughts an objection against matching a daughter reared in lux- 
ury with a man the worldly fortunes of whom were in so critical 
a condition as those of Henry Pascal. The general idea upper- 
most was the unwisdom of joining things ill-suited for each other, 
and, without reflecting on the impropriety, he seized upon the 
illustration before him, in the spreading of such delicacies before 
the gross appetites of negroes, and not rather allowing their 
plate and palate to accord. 

He had no sooner spoken, however, than he perceived the 
faux pas as being an uncalled-for fling at the slave, as well 
as a stricture upon Madame Tourner's judgment, and was not 



.] //p/ A TALE OF SAA? DOMINGO. 80 1 



surprised, therefore, at the evident displeasure conveyed both in 
the substance and the manner of her answer. 

" They are negroes and slaves, I know, monsieur, but they 
have human hearts, and will be grateful for at least having 
offered to them what is rare and costly.'' 

" Pardon me, dear madame ; but I was reflecting pardon my 
saying so that the times are not the most propitious for reveal- 
ing to slaves the difference between cabin fare and the luxury of 
the mansion." 

It was a clumsy effort to extricate himself, and Madame 
Tourner rejoined with an arch smile : 

What danger can follow, monsieur, when the slave, as you 
are aware, disdains the higher style of living ? ' 

" I own the thrust," he replied laughingly. " But pray, ma- 
dame, tell me why mademoiselle appears like one bereaved. Tis 
her wont to charm us all with her grace and high spirits." 

" I cannot tell, and it troubles me not a little. Monsieur 
Pascal made a hurried visit this forenoon, but I was so busy at 
the ovens you see, monsieur," she parenthetically remarked in 
her winsome way, " I have quite a range of aptitudes that he 
left before I could speak with him. Since then Emilie has been 
depressed." 

" Ah ! Ah 1 I perceive an affaire du cceur a case of mel- 
ancholy la maladie sans maladie" 

" I haven't had an opportunity," Madame Tourner continued, 
" of speaking with her fully ; and she seems to be reticent I 
trust Monsieur Pascal brought no alarming news from the Cape." 

" I have heard of none," M. Tardiffe replied, " except what 
relates to the Pascals themselves." 

" The Pascals ! ' cried Madame Tourner excitedly, stopping in 
her walk, and turning in astonishment upon the speaker. " What 
can have happened to the Pascals ? ' 

"Ah! madame, la langue na fourche" insidiously answered 
M. Tardiffe. " It repents me to have awakened your curiosity, 
since 'tis mere street gossip, and may be unjust to our friends." 

"It is no curiosity, but matter of deep personal interest, 
monsieur; let me know what this gossip is." 

"After all, madame, it scarcely comes within the category of 
'alarming,' remarked M. Tardiffe who had reached the point 
for disclosing his beguiling news, but held it back with a kind 
of orator's pause, that he might give it with increased empha- 
sis. 

" Explain yourself, Monsieur Tardiffe," spoke up his com- 



8o2 1791 A TALE OF SAN DOMINGO. [Sept., 



panion with symptoms of impatience. " What concerns the 
Pascals concerns us." 

" Well, Dame Rumor has it, if it must be spoken, that 
Monsieur Pascal is unable to meet his obligations and may 
lose his estates." 

" Mon Dieu ! Can it be true ? ' cried out Madame Tour- 
ner. " But, monsieur," she added with a sudden lowering of 
tone, " the rumor may be an error, or at least ( overdrawn." 

" It has probably originated," replied her guest, " in another 
rumor that Monsieur Henry is about to become a clerk in a 
Kingston counting-room." 

" He has had such an offer, I know," remarked Madame 
Tourner with a serious air, and apparently regaining composure. 

" It is surmised," continued M. Tardiffe, " that he would not 
accept so poor a position, and one so remote, if his father 
had cash to spare." 

He glanced at his companion, but she said nothing and 
he went on : 



" Monsieur Pascal has left San Souci, and taken apartments 
at the Hotel de Ville." 

" Indeed ! ' spoke up Madame Tourner. 

" And the on dit is that, under all the circumstances of the 
family, he will probably emigrate with his son." 

" The Pascals to leave San Domingo and we know nothing 
of it ! Monsieur, it is impossible ! ' exclaimed Madame Tourner, 
again arresting her steps and facing her companion. " And yet," 
she continued after a moment's consideration, and as if com- 
muning with herself, "it would explain this abrupt visit and 
Emilie's dejection." 

" I'm very sorry for the Pascals," remarked M. Tardiffe in 
his bland, oily way. " But, after all, madame, virtue is the 
only nobility." 

" True, monsieur, yet for those who have known affluence 
to shrink themselves into the fittings of poverty is a difficult 
and a painful task." 

" Ah ! madame, Jamaica is a prospering isle, and Monsieur 
Henry is young and capable. He will speedily win fortune 
for mademoiselle." 

" My daughter, Monsieur Tardiffe, has no occasion to be 
solicitous for fortune," answered Madame Tourner with dignity. 
1 Pardon me, dear madame, mademoiselle is richly and 
doubly endowed, I know, in person as in purse." 

For a moment or two Madame Tourrfer remained silent and 



1889.] /7P 7 A TALE OF SAN DOMINGO. 805 

in thought, when with a sudden and remarkable change of man- 
ner, abruptly answering her own reflections, and breaking away 
as if from a spell, she gaily cried : 

" You shall not cloud our 4 Crop Over,' Monsieur Tardiffe. 
That such reverses and proposed changes should exist, and we 
have heard not a word concerning them is perfectly incredible,. 
monsieur, and I will give no credence to these idle Cape on 
dits. Come, we will rejoin our friends ; they are awaiting us." 

Notwithstanding her assertion of incredulity, as the party 

became one again M. Tardiffe was not unobservant of the 

significant glances Madame Tourner gave her daughter, and 

felt satisfied he had lodged in the mind of the former some 

judicious trains of thought. 

West India dews, as has been already remarked, are heavy 
and dangerous, and upon the coming up of Madame Tourner 
with her guest the party repaired to the piazza. 

In the meanwhile the negroes had been doing fine service 
at the tables, and were now, in jovial bands, returning to the 
dance. At a signal the sounds suddenly ceased, and all be- 
came expectant, as four young dusky fellows took a position on 
the green, midway between the piazza and the carpets, and sang 
in their patois, to a plaintive air and with really fine effect :: 

" Me be a nigger-boy, born in de hovel,* 

What plantain da shade from de sun wha da shine ; 
Me learn to dig wid de spade and de shovel, 

Me learn to hoe up de cane in a line. 
Me drink my rum in de calabash oval, 

Me neber sigh for de brandy or wine ; 
Me be a nigger-boy, born in de hovel, 

What plantain da shade from de sun wha da shine. 
Me be a nigger-boy, 
Me be a nigger-boy : 
When me live happy, wha for me repine? 

" Me neber run from my master's plantation. 

Wha for me run? Me no want for get lick. 
He gib me house, and me no pay taxation ; 

Food when me famish, and nurse when me sick. 
'Mancipate-nigger, he belly da empty ; 

He hab de freedom ; dat no good for me ; 
My massa good man; he gib me plenty, 
Me no lub free-nigger better dan he. 
Me be a nigger-boy, 
Me be a nigger-boy, 
Me happy fellow; den why me want free? ' 

*A song current throughout the West Indies in slavery days. 



804 1791 A TALE OF SAN DOMINGO. [Sept., 

It was a delightful incident, expressive of the simple truth, 
and to Colonel Tourner, cognizant of the brewing plot, espe- 
cially pleasing. The French planters, generally, were capricious 
masters, by turns excessively indulgent and severe. The power 
to control was in consequence diminished, while their sensual, 
sybarite habits spread an evil example among the slaves, and 
rendered them less controllable. Colonel Tourner was a man 
of pure, unsullied character; a firm, just, and generous master; 
and the tender, sympathetic nature of his wife had endeared 
herself and family to the slaves by a thousand kindly little acts 
in sickness and on other occasions. The effect upon them was 
not only an exceptional reputation for character and efficiency, 
but a deep personal attachment to their master, to whom not un- 
frequently they would kneel for a blessing when he visited the 
cabins, as he often did, in looking after their welfare ; and Colonel 
Tourner felt justified in the opinion he had that morning ex- 
pressed to Henry Pascal, that should the negroes rise, he was 
confident his slaves would defend him. 



CHAPTER VI. 



THE OUTBREAK, 



While Colonel Tourner's negroes were thus regaling them- 
selves and making merry, another body had assembled at no 
great distance off, and for a far different purpose. The meeting 
was at the cabin of one Sharper, a sawyer by trade, who, like 
many of the more intelligent negroes, was allowed to hire his 
time, he accounting to his master for so much per month. He 
lived in an out-of-the-way spot in a forest, as suitable to his 
trade, at the declivity of the high range of hills between Doudon 
and Grande Riviere. His cabin of two rooms was made of wat- 
tling, plastered on the inside with clay, and roofed with a thatch- 
work of palm, the walls being adorned with paper cuts of all 
shapes and sizes, many of bizarre design, and irregularly arranged 
after negro fashion. Here were met a score of insurrectionary 
leaders. They dropped in one by one, and having assembled, 
placed sentries, with watchword, upon every possible avenue of 
approach. 

The plot was widespread and well organized, the general plan 
being to murder the plantation whites and fire the buildings ; sur- 
prise, if possible, the smaller interior towns, and, when pressed, to 



1889.] IJ9 1 A TALE OF SAN DOMINGO. 805; 

retire to the mountains, where they could concentrate and drill, 
and secure arms, as they hoped, from their Spanish neighbors. 
For a commissariat they looked to the labor of their women and 
the natural bounty of the soil. 

The special objects now were to decide upon the date and 
the scope of the impending massacre. To lessen the chances of 
discovery it was important that the date should be as early as 
possible, allowing time for the runners to speed the word. The 
second day from the meeting was accordingly agreed upon, Au- 
gust 22 the hour, midnight. 

As for the other question who should be the victims ? some 
favored sparing women and children. A majority, however, at 
the outset, pressed for indiscriminate massacre, and the sentiment 
became unanimous after an harangue from a notorious runaway. 
This fellow bore the name of Welcome ; and one Latour was the 
monster master from whose cruelties he had fled and who had 
lost, it was alleged, within three years, fifty of his negroes from 
inhumanity. Welcome harangued as follows : 

" Some of you sabe 'bout me. I tell you all. My massa, he 
da sen' me out to hunt he runaways. I hunt day an' night, an" 

i 

me no fin' 'em. I go home, an', my massa, he da lick me an 
hour wid a cart lash. De lash, it da go roun' my body, an' 
break de skin eb'ry time. Den, my massa, he sen' me out ag'in.. 
I hunt up an' down, an' me no fin' 'em. I go home, an', my 
massa, he da lick me ag'in till I faint. I be laid up one whole 
week in de sick-house. Den, my massa, he sen' me out ag'in, 
an' now I be runaway, too. 

"I git plenty to eat an' hab good time. But I want fur to 
see my mammy, Elsee. My mammy, she be good to me. She 
be de only one dat lub me. One night I stole in to my mam- 
my's cabin ; but she be dead. My Massa, he say to her, ' You sabe 
where Welcome be ' ; an' he da lick her, an' he da pour bilin* 
water down her throat. An' my mammy, she be dead, an' I be 
fur blood. Ef we doan lick de buckras, you all sabe it'll be de 
same to de nigger, ef he hit sof or ef he hit hard. De buckras will 
lick us an' torment us an' string us up all de same. I be fur to 
hit hard. Ef we doan git to be free, we'll hab blood for^ blood." 

The 22d of August began with sunshine, but closed in furi- 
ous storms. Until noon the day was clear and still and the sun 
shone with unusual splendor. An hour later a freshening breeze 
blew from the south-west. Presently, in that direction, the sky 
became overcast. The cloud rose with a whitish, clearly-defined 
border, and deepened in color until near the horizon it assumed 



;8o6 1791 A TALE OF SAN DOMINGO. [Sept., 

a uniform purplish black, through which lightning flashed, and 
above whose line a mass of broken cloud, angrily moving within 
itself, rolled rapidly forward. As it neared the* zenith its velocity 
apparently increased. A few v spiteful gusts disturbed the perfect 
stillness, when, with abrupt and furious onset, the storm burst. 
Clouds of driven dust filled the air. The wind roared through 
the trees, which bent and groaned and lashed their strong arms 
in the struggle of resistance. Suddenly the darkness deepened, 
and the flying leaves and branches could scarce be seen. The 
.sequence, however, was but a heavy rainfall. The fury of the 
storm had passed ; yet at intervals other storms followed, with 
lightnings and mighty thunderings, making such a night as is sel- 
<lom seen beyond the tropics. Wind and rain ceased towards 
midnight, though the heavens remained shrouded. It was an 
evening typical of the frightful passions swelling in the breasts of 
thousands of the blacks, and about to burst forth in scenes of 
uproar, butchery, and beastly outrage without a parallel. 

Shortly after midnight confused and dreadful rumors of a negro 
.rising began to prevail at the Cape. The first intimation were 
the conflagrations that suddenly started up over the Plaine du 
.Nord, as observed from the Vigie, or signal port, on the summit 
of the Morne du Cap, the lofty eminence on the southwestern 
outskirts of the city. 

It had been the day appointed for the Tourners' coming. Till 
a late hour Henry Pascal had remained at the Hotel de Ville, 
surmising that if a start had been made before the storm they 
might possibly arrive after its subsidence. Its continued violence, 
however, dispelled this view. His father having retired, he went 
-down to the office, and as the storm gave tokens of passing off, 
concluded, before venturing out, to await further abatement. The 
hour was late ; besides the drowsy clerk no one else was in, and, 
seating himself, he became buried in his own reflections. The 
non-arrival of the Tourners strangely oppressed him, and his 
fancyings took every possible drift. Madame Tourner may have 
interposed objections, he thought, or the preparations may not 
have been completed ; if the start had been made before the 
storm, where had they found shelter? Suppose the delay should 
prove fatal ; what if the negroes should rise to-night ? It would 
be, he thought, a fit night for such work; and the idea took 
possession of him, and drew around him a spell, and the elements 
grew weird and evil-looking, until the flashings and distant thunder- 
rolls from the receding storm seemed in his brooding imagination 
the gleam of knives and the groans of the dying. 



1889.] iJ9 1 A TALE OF SAN DOMINGO. 807 

The rain had ceased, and rousing himself out of such reveries, 
Henry Pascal sought his lodgings in la rue St. Simon. He 
had slept perhaps a couple of hours when a gun from the arsenal 
awoke him. A second brought him to his feet in a tumult ot 
apprehension, and, rushing to the window, he learned from a 
citizen hurrying by that the negroes oh the Plain were murdering 
the whites and firing the plantations. To throw on his clothes 
and rush out was the work of an instant. Fugitives from the 
immediate estates, affrighted by the conflagrations, had arrived, 
alarm guns were booming, and the streets already in commotion. 

Henry Pascal's first care was to rouse his father, for he knew 
the Cape itself was in danger. Hastening along la rue St. Simon 
and passing into la rue St. Louis, he reached the Hotel de Ville 
to find his father up and expecting him. They were aghast at 
the dreadful fate that most probably had overtaken the Tourners. 
A faint hope remained that the colonel's slaves had proven faith- 
ful, and that he had escaped with his family to some neighboring 
town or settlement, as Doudon or Petite Ance, . whence the fugi- 
tives might make for the Cape in sufficient numbers for defence 
before the negroes could concentrate. 

Wrung with anguish, Henry Pascal hurried forth again to get 
tidings from the Plain. By this time the city had become 
thoroughly aroused. Mistrustful of the large mulatto element 
among them, the whites generally remained at home under arms, 
in dread uncertainty awaiting day-break and the action of the 
authorities. Many with friends and kindred on the Plain were 
upon the streets in quest of news. Some were making for the 
Morne du Cap, the summit of which commanded an ^ extended 
view. With others Henry Pascal sought the thoroughfare by 
which fugitives would enter. Hastily traversing, therefore, la rue 
St. Louis, and turning north into a crossing street at the Place 
Royale, he entered the broad la rue Espagnole, along which he 
pressed past the Cimetiete, past the base of the Western Morne, 
till he reached a point to scan the Plaine du Nord. Towards 
the south in every quarter the horizon was aglow. What scenes 
were occurring beneath the light of those flames ! He stood 
spellbound, transfixed by a horrible fascination. 

Commencing without a sign of warning on a plantation owned 
by the Count de Noe, in the parish of Acul, where fourteen ne- 
groes murdered the overseers and fired the buildings, the rising 
spread with the utmost rapidity and overwhelming force. Ex- 
cepting Cape Francois and one or two other ports, the entire 
northern province was overrun and at the mercy of ferocious and 



808 " SHOULD AMERICANS EDUCATE THEIR [Sept.,.. 

lusty negro bands. Instances were not wanting of remarkable 
devotion to their masters, but the general conduct of the insur- 
gents was unexampled for brutality and heartrending outrage. 
Within four days, two-thirds of the magnificent Plaine du Nord 
lay in ruins, and the wretched remnants of hundreds of white 
families,- suddenly reduced from opulence to beggary, fled, terror- 
stricken and barely clothed, to the Cape. 
What had been the fate of the Tourners ? 

E. W. GlLLlAM, M.D. 

[TO BE CONTINUED.] 



"SHOULD AMERICANS EDUCATE THEIR CHILDREN 
IN DENOMINATIONAL SCHOOLS?" 

Paper read before the Convention of the National Educational Association 

at Nashville, July 19, 1889. 

IN accepting the courteous invitation of the president of the 
National Educational Association to treat before it the ques- 
tion of denominational schools, my motive has been the firm 
conviction that a candid statement of facts and an honest 
weighing of arguments must naturally redound to the advantage 
of the truth and tend to the promotion of the kindly feelings 
which ou^ht to exist among fellow-citizens. 

At the outset it is obvious that the question may be consid- 
ered as limited to schools which profess to be distinctively Chris- 
tian schools. While the term " denominational ' might indeed be 
applied to other forms of religion, yet it is so commonly employed 
to designate the various professions of the Christian religion only, 
and this is so evidently the idea here principally had in view, that 
I trust I may with propriety limit these considerations to Chris- 
tian schools. This generic name, Christian schools, would be 
clear enough if all Christians were united. But since Christians 
are divided by their various understandings of Christianity into 
different denominations, the term " denominational schools ' con- 
veys the idea more explicitly. 

This limitation as to the class of schools intended implies a 
corresponding limitation as to the class of parents regarded by 
the question. It obviously applies only to Christians of the sev- 



1889.] CHILDREN IN DENOMINATIONAL SCHOOLS? 809 

eral denominations. And in asking whether they should educate 
their children in denominational schools, it regards them not only 
as Christians, but also as Americans. Under these two aspects, 
therefore, we will seek the correct answer. And we will seek it 
by the .light of facts, the light which beams from the very nature 
of things. 

In the hard and unequal struggle of human existence every 
budding life stands sorely in need of wise unfolding, of judicious 
direction. In the life of nearly every child there are wrapped up 
endless capabilities of both good and evil, for himself and for 
others. In which of these two directions the life is to be devel- 
oped, which of these two sets of capabilities is to rule it, which 
of these two sets of results it is to produce here is the great 
problem facing each human being at the threshold of existence. 
And its solution for each child must, above all, depend on its 
parents, or on those who hold towards it the place of parents. 
Human society is indeed provided with many wise helps and en- 
couragements for the good capabilities and tendencies, with many 
restraints for the evil ; but upon parents it must especially de- 
pend to what influences the child shall be subjected, and how he 
shall be fitted to receive their action. The office of parents lies 
at the very root of character, at the very basis of civilization. 
This is the dictate and plan of nature itself, the universal law 
which in the harmonious arrangements of Divine Providence 
reaches from end to end of the visible creation, through all the 
economy of life. 

And this is especially true in the plan of Christian civilization. 
The systems of civilization which existed before the time of Christ 
counted the individual life as of little moment, save as it was a 
cog in the machinery of the body politic. The grandeur and 
domination of the state was the ruling consideration ; the individ- 
ual and the family were of importance in proportion as they were 
factors towards that result. Christianity reversed this, and gave a 
new direction to social ideas and civil polity. Its initial idea is 
the worth, the dignity, the welfare and destiny of the individual. 
It is no longer he that belongs to the state, but state and church 
belong to him, exist only for his good. " All things are yours," 
writes St. Paul to the Christians of his day " all things are yours, 
whether it be Paul, or Apollo, or Cephas, or the world, or life, 
or death, or things present, or things to come; all are yours, and 
you are Christ's, and Christ is God's." And that self- same glori- 
ous declaration Christianity shall proclaim to the children of men 
for ever. No amount of state grandeur or of state domination 
VOL. XLIX. 52 



8 1 " SffO ULD A M ERIC A NS ED UCA TE THEIR [Sept. , 

can henceforth be considered praiseworthy which costs the welfare 
of the individual citizens. They indeed must be ever ready to 
sacrifice their means and even their life for their country ; but 
this is no longer loyalty towards a domination to which all be- 
long, but loyalty towards a common weal by which all are bene- 
fited, towards a community of homes by which all are blessed. 
The glory of a Christian nation is not in its ability to surpass all 
around it in martial prowess and in the returns of trade, but 
, in the intelligence, the morality, the comfort and contentment of 
its people. These are its true honor ; nay, these are also its 
impregnable rampart, for that nation must be invincible which is 
strong in the grateful devotedness of a happy, prosperous, and 
virtuous people. This is the idea of Christendom. This is the 
reign of the Prince of Peace. Hence the true notion of a Chris- 
tian community consists in these two elements : first, individual 
lives aiming at their best development and best welfare here be- 
low, and at their eternal destiny hereafter ; and then every form 
of social organization, from the family up to the church and the 
state, helping them toward the realization' of one or other or 
both of theSe aims. 

But before the individual can know and will these aims for him- 
self his parents must will them for him, and shape the moulding 
nd direction of his character and life towards them. It is the 
constant care of a good parent that his child's intellect should be 
stored with sound knowledge, enlightened with correct ideas, 
formed to clear and true and firm convictions ; and that at the 
same time his morals should be resolutely turned away from the 
vicious tendencies which would debase his character, offend his 
Creator, and injure his fellow-beings, and be as resolutely turned in 
the way of the upright and virtuous qualities which will ennoble 
his nature, make him a credit to his family and a benefit to the 
community, and bring him safely at last to his destiny in the 
bosom of his Creator. 

Well he knows that this life-moulding of his child is no easy 
task, that all the time of childhood and youth will not be too 
long for its thorough and lasting accomplishment, that a judicious 
employment of all the influences which surround the young life 
and tell on the young mind and heart will be none too much to 
secure it. It must be the aim of home, of companionships, of 
books, of church, of school. In all these agencies there is one 
influence which he considers indispensable, which he wishes to be 
the habitual element of his child's life, since on it above all things 
else must the moulding of the child's character, the securing of 



1889.] CHILDREN IN DENOMINATIONAL SCHOOLS?' 811 ' 

his temporal and eternal welfare, depend and that is the influence 
of Christianity, the guiding and helpful action of the Christian 
religion. He knows from history and experience that without 
the light of Christianity the human intellect is in darkness as to 
the all-important questions which well up from the depths of the 
human soul, as to the all-embracing vital problems which ever 
force themselves on the attention of mankind. He knows, too, that 
without the restraining, chastening, and elevating influences of 
Christianity, human morals never have been, and never can reason- 
ably be expected to be, honorable to human nature and condu- 
cive to either private or public welfare. He is deeply convinced 
that its principles and its helps can alone make the relations of 
man with man and of man with God what they ought to be. 
He is sure that without its intimate and abiding and all-pervad- 
ing influence human life must wither and civilization rot. There- 
fore is he above all things desirous that the mind and heart and 
life of his child should be gently, sweetly, steadily, all the time 
penetrated and shaped by the action of Christianity, that it should 
grow in him with his growth and be the life of his life, that so 
his life may approach the nearer to that great Model Life which 
beyond all others honors God and humanity, an.d which says to 
every Christian life: " Follow' Me." 

But now, like a sensible man, he fully understands the impor- 
tant part in the shaping of his child's mind and character which 
the school is to have the school, in which is spent so large a 
portion of the moulding time of childhood and youth ; the school, 
which among all the influences that tell on life is, or ought to 
be, so specially efficacious. What, then, could be more natural 
than that he should wish for his child a school in which, besides 
all other educational excellences, the light, the tone, the spirit of 
Christianity should sweetly influence and mould the child all the 
time ? 

If there were any necessary incompatibility between secular 
instruction and Christian training in a school, if one of these ad- 
vantages had to be secured at the cost of some sacrifice of the 
other, his principles as a Christian would be apt to make him 
decide that the sacrifice should be of the material and worldly 
rather than of the spiritual and eternal. But he knows full well 
that there is no such necessary incompatibility, since God is the 
author both of the material and the spiritual, both of the temporal 
and the eternal, and that, as the apostle writes, " Piety is profit- 
able unto all things, having the promise both of the life that is 
and of that which is to come." A school is not made, a. Christian 



8 1 2 ' ' SHO ULD A M ERIC A NS ED UCA TE THEIR [Sept. , 

school by taking up a great deal of time in doctrinal instruction 
or in devotional exercises which would otherwise be spent in ac- 
quiring secular knowledge. Some time, indeed, must be given to 
these, and it ought to be, and can be made, the most instructive 
and beneficial part of the school hours. But that time need not 
be, and should not be, so long as to be wearisome to the pupils 
or damaging to other studies. What above all make it a Chris- 
tian school are the moral atmosphere, the general tone, the sur- 
rounding objects, the character of the teachers, the constant 
endeavor, the loving tact, the gentle skill, by which the light and 
the spirit of Christianity, its lessons for the head, for the heart, 
for the whole character, are made to pervade and animate the 
whole school-life of the child, just as the good parent desires that 
they should animate his whole future life, in all his manifold 
duties and relations as man and as citizen.- This is the kind of 
a school which a parent, anxious, as in duty bound, to give his 
child as thorough Christian training as possible, will naturally 
choose. 

But will he judge differently because, being a Christian, he is 
also an American ? Let him suppose so who imagines that be- 
tween being a good Christian and a good American there is any 
incompatibility. But such, assuredly, is not my conviction, nor 
that of any member of this association, nor that of any one who 
has an intelligent understanding of what is meant by the terms 
Christian and American. On the contrary, the ideas which, as 
said this moment, were given to the world and to civilization by 
Christianity, are the very ideas on which has been reared the 
edifice of American liberties. Our social structure rests on the 
declaration of man's natural worth, of the inalienable rights be- 
stowed on every individual by his Creator, of the great principle 
that the government is for the governed, not the governed for 
the government. The intelligent Christian parent knows well that 
what ought to be true of every nationality within the pale of 
Christian civilization is pre-eminently true of ours, that the best 
Christian is sure to be the best American, and that the school 
which aims at sending forth his child a model Christian in equal 
degree tends to send him forth a model American. And he 
knows besides that if under every form of government a man 
needs to be a good Christian in order to be fully trustworthy 
and self-sacrificing and faithful as a citizen, much more is that 
true in our blessed land of popular institutions, where the virtues 
or the vices of each individual must tell more than elsewhere on 
the healthfulness or the unsoundness of the whole system. 



1889.] CHILDREN IN DENOMINATIONAL SCHOOLS? 813 

Hence his convictions of duty towards his child as a Christian 
parent are intensified by his principles as an American. The 
schools of America ought to be the most truly Christian schools 
in the world. Our civilization is essentially a Christian civiliza- 
tion. Our country, indeed, should tyrannize over no one's con- 
science, but she herself ought to be consistently, fearlessly, always 
Christian. Should she ever ignore this fact, should she ever, 
yielding to clamor from any quarter, turn her back on the Prince 
of Peace and declare herself indifferent or neutral as to Christ and 
Christianity, then will she have cut from beneath her feet the 
groundwork of her prosperity and her glory, and surrendered 
the guarantee of her liberties ; which may God forefend ! But 
Christian civilization has for its natural foundation Christian homes 
and Christian schools. Again, therefore, a good Christian-Amer- 
ican parent, if he is true to his principles, will be sure to choose 
for his child a good Christian- American school. 

Doubtless he will find many to differ with him and to urge 
objections. It will be said to him: " Can you not trust religious 
training to the church and home, and let the school have for its 
function the imparting of secular knowledge ? ' Consistently with 
his view of human life and of the training needed by a child's 
character, he must say No ; while home and church are potent 
agents in the formation of character, the school counts for very 
much in the work. Why, then, should I not wish to have the 
influences of the school thoroughly Christian, as well as those of 
church and home ? The school fills so large a part in the serious 
hours of a child's life that it would be fatal to omit from it the 
all-essential element in character-moulding. There is not such a 
superabundance of Christianity in the lives of men to-day that 
we can afford to omit it from school-training, on which the shap- 
ing of life so largely depends. No, says the Christian parent, 
Christian common sense warns me to give my child Christian 
schooling. 

" But," retorts his friend, " had we not better, according to 
this logic, have Christian banks and Christian shoe-stores, too ? ' 
Surely, he answers, you must be jesting. A bank or a shoe-store 
is not intended for forming the character of youth, while a school is. 
Pardon me if I call it silly to institute a parity between them. 
Please let us have an argument with some seriousness in it. 

"Well, then," it will be urged, "does not experience show, as 
in France and Germany, that the mixing of religious instruction 
with secular learning in the schools acts to the detriment of 
Christian belief? " Not at all, he will reply ; this could not be 



8 14 "SHOULD AMERICANS EDUCATE THEIR [Sept., 

said by one who has seriously examined the facts. The decline 
of religious belief in France and Germany is not owing to the 
presence of religious instruction in the schools, but to its absence 
from the high-schools and universities, where religion is pushed 
aside into some obscure corner and is openly or covertly scoffed 
at by the bulk of the professors. " No wonder," boastfully ex- 
claimed a radical leader in the German Parliament not long since 
" no wonder, when the leaders of public thought are thus formed 
by the state itself that the thought of the nation should follow 
in their wake." No ; let the light of Christianity be the radi- 
ance of the school-room, that the feet of the children may learn 
to walk always by its guidance ; and let it, not less but all the 
more, be the radiance of the institutions of highest learning, that 
brilliant and influential minds may not, from materialistic one- 
sidedness in their studies, topple over into an abyss of darkness 
and drag the minds of the many with them. 

" But," it is objected, " does not your theory turn over edu- 
cation to the control of the church ?' Truly, he. replies, if your 
understanding of Christianity convinces you, as in fact it convinces 
the bulk of Christians, that the Christian religion and the Chris- 
tian church are made inseparable by the divine Founder of Chris- 
tianity, that his " fulness of grace and of truth ' is for ever to be 
dispensed to the world through the agency of his church, then 
indeed your conclusion that the Christian church should be a 
recognized spiritual influence in the school is a logical one. And, 
in fact,, you must know that such has been the conclusion of the 
Christian world in all ages, that the contrary notion is quite a 
recent invention, which has by no means proved its right to 
supersede the old Christian idea, and which, in the nature of 
things, never can prove it. And, he would add, if in the spir- 
itual atmosphere of my home and of my own life I love to feel 
the influence of my church, why should I not equally love to 
have it felt throughout all the school-life, throughout all the char- 
acter-moulding, of my child ? 

"But," it is urged, "is not this encouraging sectarianism, to 
which the spirit of our age and of our country is so opposed ? ' 
No one, must a sincere Christian reply, can regret more than I 
the divisions existing among Christians. But we have to accept 
the fact, and do the best we can with it. When I go to the 
church of my belief on Sunday rather than to the church of 
some other denomination, I am following my conscience and do- 
ing no harm to any one else. And surely the same may be said 
of the school to which I send my child. 



1 889.] CHILDREN IN DENOMINA TIONAL SCHOOLS ?' 815 


" But," it is still objected, " will not the child's education be 

thus made narrow and one-sided and without freedom of thought, 
whereas a broader view and a broader system would give greater 
largeness to his mind's development ? ' Really, must a Christian 
parent of good sense reply, this is most singular logic. Am I 
then to conclude that clearness and definiteness narrow the mind, 
and that vagueness . and indefmiteness broaden it? Or am I to 
forget that there is a broadness which leaves the mind a wide, 
trackless moor, over which life's journey can be made with but 
little security ? Horace was right when he said : 

" Sunt certi denique fines, 
Quos ultra citraque nequit consistere rectum" 

"For certain metes and bounds there are in things 
Which mark the limits of the true and right." 

These plausible generalities, about largeness and broadness are 
lurking-holes of fallacy, and I want none of them. Truth cannot 
be too clear and explicit for me. There was nothing vague and 
indefinite about Christ, and there is nothing vague and indefinite 
about Christianity. And as to freedom of thought, surely true 
freedom of thought, like the freedom of the American people, is 
not license, but supposes law and order. There can no more be 
a liberty that is, a right to think as you please, than a right to 
do as you please. No one can claim the right to do wrong, and 
no one can claim the right to think wrong. This is by no means 
to appeal to coercion, but to avow the need of a guide in thought 
as well as in action; and I rejoice to find that guide in "the 
fulness of truth ' given fay Him who truly calls himself the Light 
of the World. 

" But," persists his adversary, " could you not be content with 
that inculcation of Christian morality which exists in our public 
schools, or which, at least, it is proposed to introduce into them?" 
My answer, he replies, is furnished by an abundance of competent 
and unexceptionable witnesses. You must know how, again and 
again, and almost continuously for the last twenty years, thinkers 
of every religion and of no religion have lamented that the inculca- 
tion of morality and religion in the public schools was not what 
it ought to be. The discussion now widely prevailing about the 
possibility and means of needed moral and religious training in 
them is sufficient acknowledgment of the lack hitherto existing. 
You must then excuse me, a Christian parent will logically say, 
from considering their training just what I want for my child till 



8i6 " SHOULD AMERICANS EDUCATE THEIR [Sept., 



the methods now "urged shall have been tried and proved effica- 
cious. And, he would add, that the result ever can be satisfac- 
tory I am not prepared to believe. The whole of Christianity is 
needed as the basis, the mould, the restraint, the incentive of a 
Christian life. There is nothing in it superfluous, nothing that is 
not eminently practical in its bearings ; and no minimized compro- 
mise Christianity can ever suffice in its stead. Such moral teach- 
ing as you might get from Cicero and Seneca can never suffice 
for the moral teaching of Christ, and for the motives, means, and 
sanctions of morality which he bestows. All this vague, indefi- 
nite, non-committal moralizing and religiousness is simply religious 
moonshine, which might be useful if we were in the darkness of 
religious night, but which it is absurd to wish to substitute for 
the Light of the World. No, I want his radiance clear and full in 
the school-room where my child spends his days. 

" But," it is still argued, " do you not see that a denomina- 
tional system of schools could never suit America, where a hete- 
rogeneous population needs a unifying and not a dividing system 
of education, and where it is all-important that a right under- 
standing of our republican institutions and hearty devotedness to 
them should be inculcated ? ' And do you really believe, our 
good Christian parent will answer, that because I go on Sunday 
to a different church from my neighbor he and I will therefore 
meet less trustingly and cordially on Monday in the ways of 
trade and of social relations ? Surely not if in his church and 
mine the spirit of Christianity is inculcated, which is that of uni- 
versal charity and justice. Suspicions, antagonisms, animosities 
ought never to be instilled in any Christian church ; and if they 
are, that church has not the spirit of Christ in it, and ought to 
be deserted. And, once more, what I say of the church I say 
of the school. Every Christian school should teach justice and 
charity towards every fellow-citizen, and you may be sure that I 
will choose no school for my child where that spirit is not im- 
parted. And as I, in all the walks of life, meet all decent mem- 
bers of the community with amity and public-spiritedness, so will 
my child, trained to the character of a true Christian, go forth 
into the walks of practical life looking kindly on every decent as- 
sociate and eager to co-operate with all for the public good. Be- 
yond that the homogeneousness of our people never can go in 
the nature of things. We are not aiming at. the communism of 
Sparta. Home will be distinct from home, and circle from circle 
in society, say what you will. It is nature, and you cannot 
eradicate it. But social distinctions are no reason for popular 



1889.] CHILDREN IN DENOMINATIONAL SCHOOLS?" 817 

dissension ; and least of all should religious distinctions be such. 
Do you suppose that it was in any public undenominational 
schools that Washington and the founders of our liberties, our 
models of patriotism, were reared ? You know it was not so. And 
do you suppose that there will be a Christian denomination in all 
this land that will not vie with every other in inculcating de- 
votedness to our country, to her liberties, to her institutions ? 
The supposition is contrary to all existing facts and to all good 
sense ; so away with it ! 

" But," urges his friend, " is not the Catholic Church, at least, 
committed to the Christianity of Hildebrand and of the middle 
ages, and is it not, therefore, antagonistic to the Christianity of 
the nineteenth century and of the American Republic ? " In the 
name of the Catholic Church I answer that she is committed 
neither to Hildebrand and the middle ages, nor to the policy of 
any man or of any age whatsoever ; because she is for all men, 
and therefore for all ages, and for all forms of social conditions. In 
the middle ages she blessed the social and religious conditions 
then existing, the only ones possible in that transition period of 
human society; and through the mouth of Hildebrand she pro- 
tested against the feudal despotism which would fain have turned 
the ministers of God into tools and minions of Caesar. Caesarism 
and feudalism are gone, thank God ! or going fast from the whole 
world ; they have no place surely in our America, and the church 
has no desire for them, nor for the conditions and relations which 
they implied. Wherever, in other lands, those conditions partly 
linger, she has to treat with them as best she can, ever saying 
to them as she said to Henry IV. : " Render to Caesar the 
things that are Caesar's, but to God the things that are God's." 
The same will be her lesson to every age, and every age will 
need it. But she could no more wish to put the nineteenth 
century and our American Republic back into the swaddling 
clothes of the thirteenth century and feudalism than you could 
wish to take the full-grown man and condemn him to the frock 
and cradle of babyhood. She is as fit to deal with the mature 
manhood of humanity as with its childhood ; and she loves the man- 
hood best because its development is the plan of Providence, the will 
of God. It is the lively imagination of our kind objectors which 
would apply to the conditions existing in our country facts and 



utterances referring only to circumstances of ages and countries 
totally different. And you know that there have not been want- 
ing hot-headed and mistaken men, animated, as the apostle says, 
with " zeal, but not according to knowledge," who have fostered 



8 1 8 SlIO ULD A M ERIC A NSED UCA TE THEIR CHILDREN, E TC. ? [Sept. , 

and disseminated these unjust impressions concerning the Catholic 
Church by publications teeming with perverted facts, garbled 
quotations, and absurd, oft-refuted inventions. But our confidence 
is in truth, in justice, and in the good sense of the American 
people, who, instead of heeding these dreamers, will look for 
themselves and hear for themselves, and discover, as they assuredly 
must, that in all our land there is no element more identified with 
America, more devoted to our country and her institutions than 
the clergy and people of the Catholic Church. And as our 
good Christian parent has just shown us, we are all this not one 
whit the less, but all the more, because of our giving our 
children the blessing of a thoroughly Christian as well as thor- 
oughly American education. 

I beg leave to conclude with words uttered by me last Novem- 
ber in the cathedral of New York : 

"In our blessed America God has opened to the nations of the earth a 
New World, in which social readjustments should be wrought out without 
strife and confusion, in which the fullest freedom should be wedded to author- 
ity and peace, in which the rights of man should be inviolable tinder the 
aegis of the rights of God, in which the power of the masses should be ex- 
erted for the welfare of all. 

"But the fulfilment of that high destiny depends necessarily on the true 
enlightenment of the masses. Here, more than anywhere else, the popular 
might, if misguided by influences of darkness, would plunge the nation into 
hopeless ruin. But here, too, more than elsewhere, the sovereignty of the 
people must conduce to general prosperity and happiness, if only the minds 
and hearts of the people are guided in ways of light by the Light of the 
World. A distinguished orator of our day has truly declared that the civili- 
zation and prosperity of our country depend on its Christianity ; and that its 
Christianity depends on education. But, alas ! how illogically he concluded from 
these premises that therefore the welfare of our country was to be safeguarded 
by a system of education in which it is not permissible to teach Christianity ! 
Surely the logical conclusion from such evident premises is, that the prosperity 
and civilization of our country depend on Christian education. 

"Look now at the people of our country, and we see them divided into two 
classes. On the one side the Catholic Church emphatically declares for Christian 
education ; and with us side all those non-Catholics, whatever may be their de- 
nomination, who believe in Christian schools, and in them are giving their 
children an education leavened and animated by Christianity, as they understand 
it. On the other side are the upholders and advocates of a national system of 
schools in which Christian truth and duty cannot be taught. Can any one in 
his senses hesitate which of these two sides is for the real welfare of our country ? 

"We must cling to this sacred cause and uphold it at any cost. We must 
carry aloft before the eyes of our country the banner of Christian education. We 
must multiply and perfect Christian schools till all our children and all our youth 
can have in fullest abundance all the blessed intellectual and moral advantages 
which are the essential condition of Christian civilization. We must stop at no 
difficulties ; we must count no cost. At any cost the work must and shall go on, 



1889.] THE NEW MANUAL OF PRAYERS. 819 

for we are called to it both by love of God and love of country. Our country 
may for a while misunderstand and misjudge us ; she may treat us unfairly ; she 
may tax us doubly ; may suspect our motives ; but, like the Grecian hero of 
old, we will look her lovingly in the face and say : ' Strike, but hear me ! ' And 
we will persevere until the good sense and the noble heart of the American 
people give the victory at last where it is rightly due, and all ranks of our fel- 
low-citizens who believe in Christian civilization will join with us in securing it by 
Christian education, will vie in guiding all the youth of the land in the gladsome 
ways of Him who alone is or can be the Light of the World." 

JOHN J. KEANE. 



THE NEW MANUAL OF PRAYERS.* 

IT might appear that the work of preparing an official Prayer- 
Book was superfluous when so many and such excellent manuals 
of devotion, with prices and sizes to suit all pockets, are to be 
had. And, in truth, much is to be said in praise of many of these 
books, both as to the prayers necessary to follow the public offices 
of religion, and those which were added to assist the faithful in 
their private exercises of devotion. Some of the best bishops, 
priests, and laymen in Ireland, England, and America have had 
to do with compiling some of these prayer-books. Our fathers 
and mothers took a solid delight in the use of those manuals of 
devotion which are now cherished as relics in our families. Some 
of the best of these were prepared by English Catholics far back 
in the days of persecution, the earliest editions having been printed 
on the Continent. For simplicity and unction of style and for 
substantial worth of matter it is not too much to say that their 
successors in popular favor have not excelled them ; many of 
them have not equalled them. In many instances, too, these 
prayer-books were translations into homely and sweet English 
of formularies us^d by the saints St. Thomas, St. Gertrude, St. 
Bernard, St. Bonaventure. 

Here in America much of the best of these prayers were se- 
lected for the prayer-books first published. The earliest of these, 
and in some ways the most worthy of commendation, was the 
Key of Paradise, compiled by the saintly Bishop David, of Bards- 

* A Manual of Prayers for the use of the Catholic Laity. Prepared and published by order of 
the Third Plenary Council of Baltimore. New York : The Catholic Publication Society Co. 



820 THE NEW MANUAL OF PRAYERS. [Sept., 

town. It was followed shortly by The Catholic Manual, an 
American edition of that excellent book, The Garden of the Soul, 
and a book got out under the supervision of the Jesuits, named 
True Piety. These four are the pioneers of prayer-book literature 
in this country. Why have they not sufficed ? Why has the 
Third Plenary Council found it needful to order a new and official 
prayer-book ? One reason is that they were followed by a de- 
luge of all feorts and sizes and caricatures of Catholic prayer-books, 
edited in many cases by totally incompetent persons, full of 
blunders, full of sentimentality, exaggeration, and affectation, with- 
out approval or with the name of the ordinary printed without 
his consent in some cases using the imprimatur of a dead 
bishop wretchedly printed and bound, full of typographical er- 
rors, sometimes printing prayers which had been condemned. 

But if every one of them had been compiled by a competent 
editor and really inspected and approved by authority, there would 
still be need for the book before us. It is official, and therefore 
fulfils a first requisite laid down by Archbishop Kenrick more 
than thirty years ago (see Brownson's Review, April, 1857, ar- 
ticle " Prayer-Books ") : " Without catering to a vitiated taste for 
novelties," says the archbishop, " a large prayer-book can be formed 
abounding both in instruction and edification." This is one, and 
has been formed by express decree of -the highest ecclesiastical 
authority among us, carrying with it every mark which notes an 
official character. The compiler was appointed by his ordinary, 
the Archbishop of New York, and by the Apostolic Delegate 
who presided at the council, Cardinal Gibbons, in pursuance 
of the decree. His official approval, together with the impri- 
matur of the Archbishop of New York, appears on the title 
page. As the matter came from the press the proof-sheets were 
sent to every bishop in the United States, and every correction 
or suggestion was embodied in the text as finally printed. Neither 
time nor money nor labor has been spared in this process, that 
the claim the book makes of being really official may not be 
a vain one, and that it may be a worthy exponent of the devo- 
tion of intelligent Catholics. Here is a manual of devotion which 
we can place in the hands of our non-Catholic friends and say 
there is nothing in that book we dare be ashamed of; that is a 
Catholic prayer-book by excellence. It is, too, something fitting 
our American Catholicity, which, gathering its devotions with its 
people from all lands, is 'addicted to none in particular. It ignores 
none, but it selects from each only what is essentially Catholic. 
It is not cumbered with the particular devotions of all sorts of 



1889.] THE NEW MANUAL OF PRAYERS. 821 

sodalities, confraternities, leagues, and the like, excellent but local 
and restricted to the small numbers who are enrolled in such 
societies. 

The reader can hardly expect us to give even a reasonable 
summary of the contents of this book. We believe that of the 
seven hundred and ninety-two pages there are not a score of them 
taken from any other source but the Roman Missal, the Roman 
Breviary, and the Roman Ritual, the purest and most copious 
fountains of divine praise and springing from the everlasting rock 
on which Christ built his church. The morning and night prayers 
are a translation of Prime and Compline, acknowledged to be the 
most poetical and devotional parts of the Divine Office ; added to 
these are some other morning and night prayers consecrated by 
immemorial usage among the laity. The devotions for Mass are a 
complete translation of the entire ordinary as it is in the Missal, 
accompanied by the Latin text. There is also a variety of pray- 
ers and reflections for use during Mass if one desires to exercise 
his liberty in choosing his special devotions during the holy Sac- 
rifice. The Vespers is especially complete, having not only the 
usual Sunday Vespers, but the psalms, hymns, versicles, prayers, 
etc., proper for all the seasons and principal feasts of the whole 
year; to this is affixed a directory which ingeniously enables one 
to select those proper for use. 

Throughout the book are placed solid and clear instructions 
for guidance, especially in preparing for and receiving the Sacra- 
ments. These embrace a considerable body of doctrine, and are 
supplemented in various parts of the manual by equally com- 
pendious and lucid explanations of other points of Catholic prac- 
tice not connected with the reception of the Sacraments. The 
brief chapter devoted to fasting and abstinence is specially worthy 
of praise for the clearness with which the principle and the prac- 
tice of these often wrongly understood requirements of Catholic 
life are discussed. All these instructions are in some degree 
necessary, for even though a prayer-book is principally taken up 
with formulas of prayer, it should possess and is often referred to, 
in the absence of a particular treatise, for what might be called 
the memoranda of Catholic belief and practice, and in this feature 
the book before us is most commendable. A further excellence, 
and one we feel sure will be appreciated by both priest and 
layman, is the , incorporation of the Roman ritual both in Latin 
and English for the administration of the sacraments of Baptism, 
of Matrimony, of Holy Viaticum, of Extreme Unction ; the 
form for imparting the Plenary Indulgence at the hour of 



822 



THE NEW MANUAL OF PRAYERS. 



[Sept., 



death, and the complete burial service are also given. The laity 
can, therefore, follow the ritual with greater facility and have a 
more intelligent appreciation of the beauties of the authorized and 
consecrated prayers, the church employs, while in the hands of 
the priest the book will serve in case of any accident as a ritual 
for the administration of the Sacraments. 

We cannot conclude without some words of praise for the 
publisher's part of the work. In paper, press-work, and binding 
it is the perfection of the bookmaker's art ; the calendar borders, 
the initial letters, and the tail-pieces being especially beautiful, 
and, what is of most importance, appropriate. These features have, 
of course, added a great deal to the expense of getting out the 
work. The book, while it contains so much matter, is not bulky, 
except by comparison with those mean and wretched little prayer- 
books that are so often, we regret, to be found in the hands of 
our Catholics at Mass. We trust that the time is near at hand 
when such " vest-pocket ' prayer-books will no longer cater to 
the laziness of Catholics. There is no reason why this prayer- 
book, sanctioned as it is by the highest ecclesiastical authority, 
full of solid instruction and beautiful prayers, should not be most 
popular with our American Catholics. 



1889.] TALK ABOUT WILLIAM AND LUCY SMITH. 823 



TALK ABOUT WILLIAM AND LUCY SMITH. 

ONE of the most interesting of recent publications is The 
Story of William and Lucy Smith, which is edited by George S. 
Merriam, and published by Houghton, Mifflin & Co. No 
fiction of the year, at all events, compares with this memoir of 
two real lives, either in its power to attract and charm by the 
vividness and reality with which it sets forth individual characters, 
or in the hold it takes on the emotions by the romance which 
it so simply chronicles. Dr. Holmes's saying, that the life of 
every man and woman would furnish materials for at least one 
three-volume novel, was never better illustrated than by this 
double biography. If, for the credit of human nature, one does 
not seriously entertain a doubt that the simplicity, the purity, the 
elevation which characterized this " perfect pair ' are silently 
matched on all sides of us, and have been so, and will be, yet 
that must be confessed a singular good fortune which in them 
married a perfect expression to a perfect feeling, and thus made 
the record of their experiences so worthy that the world of letters 
is permanently enriched by it. 

From what has just been said it would be easy to conclude 
that the story of these lives is the joint production of its subjects. 
So it is in a certain sense, but that sense is not the ordinary one. 
Although large portions of the book are composed of most read- 
able extracts from the published tales, poems, and essays of Wil- 
liam Smith, yet the narrowly personal note is not only seldom 
struck in these, but even from such of his letters as are quoted, 
charming as the specimens given are, the jealous affection of the 
widowed Lucy, almost as anxious to hide as to reveal her treas- 
ure, has pretty thoroughly effaced it. 

" Ah, dear bundle before me as I write," she says in one place, " fifty let- 
ters, in not one of which is there one sad note all serene hope, tender, unutter- 
ably precious, confident affection not from one of these shall an extract be 
made. Sweet letters that I shall burn some day, when the parted years are 
nearly over there are one or two of you that I will lay apart, and my dead hand 
shall be folded over them in unutterable thankfulness." 

For the general reader the interest of this memoir will hardly 
become engrossing until he reaches the second of the three parts 
into which its contents are divided. The first part is almost en- 
tirely devoted to a biography of William Smith, from his birth 
in 1808 until he was half way. through his forty-ninth year, at 



824 TALK ABOUT WILLIAM AND LUCY SMITH. [Sept., 

which period he first met his future wife. This record, so far as 
it deals with personalities, is chiefly compiled from a memoir 
which was written by his widow shortly after his death in 1872, 
for private circulation among their friends. But his life was one 
so empty of personal adventure or external incidents, that no just 
conception of him could be formed which did not have for its 
basis a tolerably thorough acquaintance with his mind, as reveal- 
ed in his published volumes. 

These were few in number. Two tales, Thorndale and Graven- 
hurst, neither of which can be called a novel in the ordinary 
sense, since they owe their interest wholly to the discussion of 
philosophical and religious problems ; a Discourse on Ethics of the 
School of Paley, published in its author's thirty-second year ; a 
couple of poems, one of them a drama called Guidone, which 
preceded the Discourse by three years ; and a second drama, 
Athelwold, issued in 1842, comprise them all. William Smith 
was, however, a constant contributor of critical essays upon gen- 
eral literature to Blackwood's Magazine from 1839 to J 87i, and 
much of his best work presumably lies hidden in the volumes of 
that series. Mr. Blackwood at one period proposed to issue a 
book of selections from these essays, but the plan was vetoed by 
their author. Copious extracts are given in the present memoir* 
from Athelwold, Thorndale, and Gravenhurst, all of which will 
eminently repay careful study. We have had no access to the 
originals from which these specimens of thoughtful dialogue in 
prose and verse are taken, but from their general character it 
seems easy to infer that a closer idea can be formed from them 
of the wholes of which they form a part, than would be possible 
in the case of works less dependent on careful thought and close 
expression and more on incident, character, and plot. From Athel-. 
wold, a play based on the story of King Edgar, Athelwold, and 
Elfrida, as Hume relates it, we give, as a good example of an uncom- 
mon sort of common sense, put into a compact and admirable shape, 
the reply by which Dunstan defends himself against Athelwold when 
accused of having been too lenient to the " vicious Edgar," and too 
severe to the "innocent Edwin for a virtuous marriage": 

" Mark you not, 

My Athelwold, how in the faith of all, 
Each child of frailty, each poor worldling, finds 
The path he treads to Heaven ? On the broad base, 
By ages strengthened, of a nation's creed, 
As on some mole immense and palpable, 
Wrought o'er the abyss, fast to the doors of Heaven, 
Each solitary foot treads firm; the flock 



.] TALK ABOUT WILLIAM AND LUCY SMITH. 825 

Of men pass on they pause they fail they fall 

But on the road itself, and where it leads, 

Or who contrived, they waste no bootless care, 

No sad, unequal scrutiny. Therefore 

We punish error as we punish crime, 

Lest by the perverse freedom of a few 

Truth lose her hold on the gross, giddy world. 

And hear me out with patience, my good lord 

And fortunate, I deem, are men thus ruled, 

Who reason not, but in belief obey, 

Or with the reason happily confound 

A foregone sense of duty ; fortunate, 

In my esteem, that subject-multitude 

The monarch-priest, by his bold government, 

Protects from worst of anarchies, from doubt, 

And its undying fear: their creed lives in them 

Like blood within their veins, and glows or thrills, 

As questionless. Know this that he who towers 

Above his kind, nor can be taught of 'them , 

Who trusts his faith to solitary thought, 

Who strains his ear for accents from the skies, 

Or tasks the wavering oracle within, 

Shall feed on heavenly whispers, few and faint, 

And dying oft to stillness terrible ! " 

We have italicized these lines, not so much on account of 
their general truth as because of their special applicability to the 
mental and spiritual condition of their author throughout his life. 
For it is not wholly, nor even chiefly, the exquisite personalities 
of William and Lucy Smith, and the entirely charming character 
of the relation between them, which gives this volume its deepest 
interest. To us that interest centres in the strong relief into which 
the study of these lives throws the total result of a rejection of 
historical Christianity upon souls who belong by their nature to 
the elite of the human race. The question can nowhere be put 
and answered on more favorable terms. There is here no mawk- 
ish sentimentality to offend the taste, as in M. Renan ; no at- 
tempt like Mrs. Ward's to preach philanthropy and brotherhood in 
the name of a mistaken but well-meaning Jew who was cruci- 
fied for his fidelity to an ideal higher than his age and race were 
capable of, ' but who, in spite of his limitations, has become a 
symbol for the noblest aspirations ; no moral solecisms to raise 
side-issues, as in the case of George Eliot. There is, instead, not 
only a fidelity to the inward light, striking both intellect and 
conscience, but .an adoring attitude toward the personal God re- 
vealed in nature and consciousness, and a longing for union with 
him and for immortality which is only not sure faith because 
faith is the gift of God Incarnate, and can be imparted by him 
VOL. XLIX. 53 



826 TALK ABOUT WILLIAM AKD LUCY SMITH. [Sept., 

alone. So great and unfeigned is this reverence toward God the 
Creator, and so persistent this timid hope, from which not right 
reason but purblind reasoning has cut away its sole substantial 
ground, that he would be overbold who should presume to weigh 
its merits or number its defects. Compassion, not censure, is the 
note evoked by lives like these. And it is a great compassion, for 
the object-lesson Which they teach is costly. All the data af- 
forded to human hope by human reason, aided by modern science, 
but with no other prop ; responsive to conscience but deaf to 
revelation, they possess in a fulness which only displays the more 
absolutely its tenuity. 

William Smith was born at Hammersmith, early in 1808, of 
parents in good circumstances and of a strong religious bent. 
His mother, who was of German descent, is described as being 
of an "eminently saintly character." She trained this youngest 
of a large family in the practice of reading the Bible and prayer, 
and he responded to the teaching so well that on his first de- 
parture from home to boarding-school, at the age of nine, he suf- 
fered martyrdom in a small way at the hands of his companions 
rather than abandon his ordinary custom. But at the next school 
he attended, as his pious practices not only excited no adverse 
comment but would have been sure to have secured approval, 
"one is not surprised," writes the wife, "that the feeling of de- 
votion, which opposition had only stimulated, now retired out of 
sight." At the age of fourteen he was sent to Glasgow College, 
where an elder brother, who afterwards took Anglican orders, 
was likewise a student. Here William "got thinking" says the 
memoir, and " as a consequence, the old theological foundations 
became gradually disturbed." He has, himself, in Thorndale, 
given the rationale of this disturbance in a passage over-long to 
quote, but of which the gist is this : The father of Cyril took a 
great interest in the subject of reformatory punishment. It formed 
the great topic of conversation in his home. The house was full 
of books treating the subject in every possible manner, and no 
guest was allowed to escape from an exposition of what his host 
deemed to be the true principles of criminal jurisprudence. 

" As I understood (Cyril), the perusal of these books, together with the constant 
reiteration in the family circle that the reformation of the criminal himself was 
never to be lost sight of as one of the ends of punishment, forced upon his mind 
the perception of a strange contrast between the ethical principles which his 
father advocated when discoursing upon this favorite topic, and the ethical 
principles which he advanced or implied when he expounded his Calvinistic divin 
ity. Cyril, at least, could not reconcile the two. He could not help saying to 
himself, though he recoiled at first with horror from his own suggestions, that his 
father claimed for a human legislator principles more noble and enlightened than 



1889.] TALK ABOUT WILLIAM AND LUCY SMITH. 827 

those he attributed to the Divine Governor. The idea was at first repudiated ; it 
was thrust back ; but it would return. . . . That the future punishments ot 
God should have for one end the reformation of the offender does not appear to 
be a heresy of a very deep dye, nor one that ought to have disturbed a pious mind ; 
but it shook the whole system of theology in which Cyril had been brought up. 
If punishment has in itself wise and merciful ends, if it is conducive, or accom- 
panied by measures that are conducive, to the restoration of the criminal, what 
becomes of all those ideas attached to the word salvation, in which he had been 
educated ? I only indicate the train of thought awakened in Cyril's mind. Those 
only who have been educated as he was can understand the terror and anguish of 
heart which such a train of thought brought with it. ... The first murmur 
of dissent he ventured to raise against the system in which he had been educated 
was on the doctrine of eternal punishment. It was the doctrine he most fre- 
quently discussed with me. The more he studied it, whether in works of ethics 
or works of religion, the less he could assent to it. Yet the denial of it shook all 
the rest of the system ; his doctrine of atonement must be entirely remodelled / in 
short, he was plunged into the miseries of doubt. ... To appreciate the 
distress of Cyril it must be borne in mind that he had been brought up in the 
conviction that unbelief was a sin of the greatest magnitude ; that it could not 
fail to incur all the penalties of extreme guilt, as the unbeliever was cut off from 
the only means of salvation. Say that he was wrong, then his very denial had 
sentenced him directly or indirectly to that final doom he called in question. 
His unbelief had incapacitated him from seizing upon the sole means of escape* 
This terrible responsibility was for ever with him. A voice would peal incessantly 
in his ears, ' You may be wrong, and then . . .' With some few men this, 
gloomy contest, carried on apart and alone, has absorbed all the energies of their 
intellect. Coerced into silence, they gain no help from other minds; the cloud 
hangs over them perpetually ; no word from another disperses it for a moment ; 
perhaps they are ashamed to confess the secret terrors they more than occasion- 
ally feel. They seek no distraction ; for them there is no oblivion ; they must 
front their enemy with a steady eye, or they sink vanquished, and lose entirely 
their self-respect. Perhaps there is no interest or pleasure so absorbing as t> 
shelter them during one whole day from some recurrence of their sad and intei - 
minable controversy. They live on, knowing nothing of philosophy but its 
doubts, and retaining nothing of religion but its fears." 

In this description of the early mental struggles of Cyril, 
William Smith closely indicated the nature of his own first doubts. 
But the end to which he finally attained was not that of Cyril. 
The latter finds peace in accepting the Catholic faith,, and enter- 
ing a Cistercian monastery. But his creator, while possessing a. 
spiritual insight keen enough to descry that there are souls, fine 
and well-tempered, who after floundering in the marsh of doubt 
can find secure footing on that " mole immense and palpable a 
nation's creed," was permanently hindered from doing so himself. 
The hindrance was a certain congenital intellectual blindness com- 
mon to so many men that it is not singular to find them mis- 
taking it for the perfection of vision. If we say that by instinct 
and by training he was a sceptic, we mean only that by nature 
he was timid ; afraid, on the one hand, to lose touch with the 
mass of his kind as to their great hope, and afraid, on the other, 



828 TALK ABOUT WILLIAM AND LUCY SMITH. [Sept., 

to lose it with that minority to whom has been carelessly con- 
ceded the name of " scientific," and to whom his habit of mind, 
critical not creative, acute but not adventurous, linked him as a 
disciple. The moral difficulties presented by the problem which 
is called " eternal punishment," he has elsewhere shown himself 
entirely capable to overcome. The philosophy in which he finally 
rested, and which included belief in a " personal God, an Intel- 
ligential Power through whom all is, and has been, and will be," 
and hope that man's conscious identity may be preserved after the 
death of the body, while rejecting absolutely, and with just horror, 
the notion of vindictive punishment, nevertheless found room in it 
for a clear conception and full expression of the truth that " the 
Furies will live for ever in the imagination of guilt and crime." 

But William Smith's difficulties were not moral ones. The 
timidity of which we have spoken as his characteristic was purely 
intellectual. We can best indicate its nature by quoting from one 
of his early essays his definition of a mystic. Though written before 
he was twenty, it shows a radical and permanent tendency of his 
mind. It is a tendency common to so many of the educated 
classes that to follow it seems the most recognizable evidence ot 
enlightenment and good judgment. And yet, to follow it is not 
only to cut off all tangible ground for that hope of immortality 
to which men cling blindly, in despite of "science," but to deny 
the value of human testimony and reject the possibility of reve- 
lation. Weighty things, these, to cast away in order to guard, in 
their stead, the puerile belief that to the mind and soul of man 
there is no avenue but his five senses, and that for his deepest 
and most imperishable longings no provision has been made but 
through that world of gross matter to which only they bear witness. 

" I apprehend that he is strictly a mystic who arrives at any sentiment or be- 
lief by any other than those modes of reasoning common to all mankind. It is not 
necessary that this belief should be unintelligible, or peculiar to himself; it is 
enough that he has reached it by a method which the rest of the world cannot 
pursue. All inspired people, all who appeal to the influence of some spiritual 
agent upon their minds, all who discover in their own consciousness what others 
look in vain for in theirs, however good, however fortunate, however sincere 
they may be, are essentially mystics. Be it remembered, however, that in at- 
taching this name to them, I do not charge them with any deception or any 
error. I imply only by it that with regard to that subject on which their con- 
sciousness has been otherwise informed, it is impossible to reason with them ; as 
impossible as to argue upon external objects with one who should have more 
senses than five." 

Now, with such a statement, taking it just as it stands, it is, 
of course, impossible to cavil. Nobody denies that the mystic, 
the seer, the prophet, is more open to spiritual agencies than the 



1889.] TALK ABOUT WILLIAM AND LUCY SMITH. 829 

mass of men. So far as the things of the soul go, he stands to 
them in much the same relation that a great inventor does to 
the ordinary mechanician. The qu^Prel that the Christian has 
with men like William Smith men, that is, who have a deep 
longing after God, the Container, the Transcender, the Being who, 
even in the inadequate conception formed by the soul striving 
after him through nature, must be the source and origin of all 
those aspirations of which the world of the senses can give no 
account, and to which it affords no satisfaction is that they are 
either too timid to trust their instincts, or too unwisely bold in 
their final conclusion that the five senses of the natural man 
supply what one might call the standard measure of the final re- 
ceptiveness of the race. There is a sense in which they do. 
Since the race has had a written history, the pages of that his- 
tory have testified with one accord, first, to the existence of the 
mystic and his providential purpose as a message-bearer from on 
high, and second, to the native impulse of his brother-man to ac- 
cept his message and to receive from him the elevating influence 
which has fostered progress. The natural man, pure and simple, is 
not a creature unwilling to be taught. Faith comes by hearing 
to him. All knowledge of the laws and the purposes of his Cre- 
ator, so far as these are not visibly contained in his own acUp- 
tation to his physical environment, has come to him through the 
medium of providential men and by means of revelation. To 
deny this is to deny the ability of the race to write its history. 
Holy men of old wrote and spoke and acted as they were moved 
by the Holy Ghost, and though the messengers usually met sad 
treatment at the hands of their immediate hearers, yet their mes- 
sage was preserved and their credentials finally honored. That 
not every seer has seen aright, that the messages are confused 
and contradictory, is not the question. The first denier, the first 
experimenter, who proposed to bring all truth before the tribunal 
of the senses, stands in all records of the race as the immediate 
suggester of the " scientific ' method of dealing with revelation. 
No sane mind has any quarrel with a science which is willing to 
take account of all the facts. It is only " science, falsely so 
called," because it refuses to recognize not merely the actual fact 
of revelation, but denies its possibility, against which the soul of 
the guileless man revolts. To him, all that lies beyond the sight of 
his own eyes, the circle of his own touch, comes as a matter of 
revelation from better instructed, wider-travelled men. But there 
is a region into which the natural eye has not seen, into which 
mortal foot has not trod, and yet toward which the natural heart 
aspires with a longing beyond all others which it has ever known. 



830 TALK ABOUT WILLIAM AND LUCY SMITH. [Sept., 

" If a man die, shall he live again ?" It is the eternal question 
of desire baffled, of love unsatisfied, of purblind reason, seeking 
vainly in the world of sense^for a foundation solid enough to rear 
upon it the eternal habitation its capacities demand. 

For now nineteen centuries the most enlightened, the most 
highly civilized portion of the race Christendom has answered 
that question in the affirmative. Life and immortality, it says, 
have been brought to light in the only way conceivable by mor- 
tal men. One of their own race, man in all senses, " tempted at 
all points like as we are, yet without sin," was assumed in his 
full human nature by the God who created him. He "who at 
sundry times and in divers manners spoke in times past to the 
fathers by the prophets, last of all, in these days hath spoken 
unto us by his Son, whom he hath appointed heir of all things, 
by whom also he made the world." The apostle begins by as- 
suming as proven the point which the " science ' of our genera- 
tion commonly professes to regard as settled in the negative. 
Knowledge which cannot be attained by the average man through 
the cultivated use of his natural faculties, cannot be attained by 
any man, is as good a formula as any to represent the agnostic 
attitude. And as no optician's lenses will aid man's eyes to 
pierce the veil of death, no man can say that conscious life exists 
beyond it. For him, in his present state, immortality must re- 
main at best a great Perhaps. 

Now, against agnostic science and philosophy the natural man, 
whose belief they have done their best to overthrow, and whose 
hope they have tossed onjy a contemptuous and exceedingly dry 
crust, finds himself constrained to protest, sometimes in behalf of 
his own consciousness of facts, and again in behalf of that recorded 
consciousness of the race which is called history. His faith has 
lived too long, his hope is too dear to him, his anguish is too keen 
in the face of death, above all, his strong human love, when it 
touches him in its pivotal relations, is too persistent in its longings 
to allow him to acquiesce in the teaching which at its best throws 
into irredeemable doubt all that has made life precious in its 
higher hours. On what authority, he must needs ask of the new 
and self-appointed guides who are beckoning him onward to what 
the most advanced of them are the most ready to describe as an 
abyss on what authority do you bid me discredit the abundant 
testimony which, in our own day, as throughout all ages of which 
history is cognizant, has proven that God has not only spoken 
through prophets things above the natural cognizance of men, but 
by his Son has made known the fact of immortality ? If it is on 
that of the order and unbroken continuity of nature, I deny that 



1889.] TALK ABOUT WILLIAM AND LUCY SMITH. 831 

such an order is broken by the introduction of the prophet or the 
incarnation of Jesus Christ. I deny it for the same reason that I 
would deny the possibility of an inventor who should surpass 
Edison on his own lines. Not that I put the great discoverers of 
truths belonging strictly to the natural order in the same category 
as the revealers of truths which lie beyond man's natural ken, 
although the knowledge of them is as strictly necessary to his 
happiness as the food he eats is to his mortal body. I say only 
that just as surely as experience proves man's inextinguishable 
desire for eternal life, so surely does natural reason demonstrate 
that only from the farther side of the grave could valid testimony 
to his continued existence come. The question cannot be settled 
a priori, and on the authority of a philosophy which . begins by 
denying a whole order of facts, an unbroken catena of evidence, in 
the abused name of "science." What is science but the best attain- 
able record of all the facts in every case ? The law you lay down 
is one that excludes evidence, the justice you administer is like 
that of the Hoosier judge who found that as only four witnesses 
had seen the prisoner at the bar commit the murder he was 
charged with, while sixteen had been produced who had seen 
nothing of the kind, the balance of testimony required his ac- 
quittal. By the very nature of the case revelation must be made 
to the few whose inner senses have been unclosed. The mass 
of men, whose representatives you pre-eminently are by virtue of 
that new-fangled " science ' which classes as unknowable all that 
its votaries do not know, are, nevertheless, in their ordinary, un- 
scientized condition, amenable to the weight of testimony. By so 
much as you are prepared to discard it wherever it collides with 
your theory, that the world of matter cognizable by the five senses 
is the only valid source of knowledge open to any man, you sink 
beneath the mass. 

It was on that rock that the bark William and Lucy, so richly 
freighted with happiness and so desirous to enter the safe harbor 
of eternal life, struck and went down outside it. Desire for God 
they had, and that intense longing for union with him which is 
the seal he has set upon the heart of all his rational creatures. 
Hope, too, they had, in that infinite, fatherly mercy to which no 
man may set limits narrower than those set by Him who on the 
night before he gave himself for the ransom of the race said : 

"I pray not for the world, but for them whom thou hast given me, because 
they are thine. . . . And not for them only do I pray, but for them also who 
through their word shall believe in me." 

From that belief each of them fell away he for the reason 



832 TALK ABOUT WILLIAM AND LUCY SMITH. [Sept., 

we have tried to indicate, and which, in his special case, ardent 
lover of truth as he essayed to be, we take to be a timidity, an 
uneasiness at the notion of letting go the skirts of " advanced ' 
thought which truth resents, and to which she will never wholly 
yield. As for his wife, what she lost of assured Christian faith 
a faith never possessed in its entirety by either, because mal- 
formed by its issue from the womb of heresy she lost through 
love of him in the first place, and never regained. She also was 
timid too timid to advance one step beyond the spot where he 
left her at his death. She could not go back to her old belief, 
she said; Christianity was "unthinkable," the evidence for it rested 
on too narrow a basis ; from some of its dogmas the heart re- 
volted. Nevertheless, she hoped, because, as she avowed, this 
present life would have been intolerable to her without the hope 
of reunion of hearts in one beyond it. 

And just there, in the nature of that intense and perfect love 
which existed between these two souls and welded them into so 
complete a whole, lay, one would have said, a reason sufficient 
in its own unaided strength to sweep away the one thin veil 
which prevented their acceptance of tlje Christ of God and 
hindered their secure peace within the shelter of his promise. 
Love like theirs is always a rare phenomenon. No one who has 
not felt its like can accept the possibility of it except on testi- 
mony. Can any man or woman, reading of it or beholding its 
counterpart, say : This is the crown of human felicity I also 
will seek for and attain it ? Does it lie within the power of 
choice ? Do complements of each other live in the next street, or 
may they be found by advertising in the matrimonial columns of 
the Sunday journals ? Is not love in its higher and purer sense 
as mystic, as incommunicable, as unshared a gift as individual 
life itself is ? We say this, of course, not in the sense that human 
love in its highest natural development is either argument or 
evidence for the historical truth of Christianity. We mean, simply, 
that as it was William Smith's one desire to " know things 
definitely ' which lay at the root of his unwillingness to base 
faith or hope on anything less wide than the consensus of the 
mass of men, or to accept as true anything at which all could not 
arrive by " those modes of reasoning common to all mankind," 
the bare fact that he also was one of that elect few who have 
had an experience so rich in happiness, so singular, so proof in 
its essence against being either made known or shared, should 
have caused his faith in the first article of the agnostic creed to 
waver. 



1889.] WITH READERS AND CORRESPONDENTS. 833 



WITH READERS AND 'CORRESPONDENTS. 

FRANCE RELIGIOUS, POLITICAL, AND SOCIAL.* 

THE author of this monograph of forty-five pages has taken as its motto the 
following affirmation from a discourse of Ernest Renan, delivered before the 
French Academy on the 2ist of February, 1889: "La Revolution est con- 
damnee, s'il est prouve qifau bout de cent ans elle en est encore a recommencer, a 
chercher sa voie, a se debattre sans cesse dans les conspirations et F anarchic "\ 
Renan is evidently far sounder in his political than in his religious views. 

Count de Nanteuil opens by stating that moral anarchy is widespread 
throughout France, all its various productive interests are suffering, religion is 
most unjustly attacked, and, what is very sad, conservative men seem to be with- 
out energy and courage to perseveringly undertake to mend things. France's 
trouble is organic and social in its character, and has been brought about by 
radical transformations in the former fundamental laws of the realm, and by per- 
nicious innovations due to the first Revolution and maintained ever since in the 
status of. the domestic, civil, and political elements which compose the French 
nation. Universal suffrage, uniform and equal, and which takes no account of varied 
and important social interests, does not work well in that country. Eminent 
writers of the present day (as appears from an editorial from the pen of M. 
Reinach, chief editor of the Republique Frangaise] are found to assert this. It 
elevates to government weak, mediocre men, chosen in preference to others of far 
superior ability, and who, when in power, have to reward their partisans, by 
whose votes and influence they have benefited, by distributing among them 
government patronage and offices. Another passage is quoted from Renan's 
address above referred to, in which he says that "his country, having allowed 
its intellectual and moral centre of gravity to fall too low, has seen its destinies 
handed over to the caprices of an average public opinion which in soundness 
and reliability does not come up to the mental abilities of even a very ordinary 
sovereign called to his throne by the chances of hereditary succession." Renan 
on this point seems to be in accord with Professor Huxley, who has somewhere 
expressed the opinion that " government by average public opinion is merely a 
circuitous way of going to the devil." 

The status of the family has been injured in this wise : by depriving parents 
of the power of willing their own property, which, with a slight exception, must 
be divided, 'wholly and equally, amongst their children, whether dutiful and of 
good habits or the contrary ; and by interfering with the parental right to edu- 
cate children according to the dictates of the parents' conscience and judgment. 
As to the civil or administrative element, the mischief was begun by the central- 
izing policy of Louis XIV. and his successor, and confirmed and extended by the 
republican and imperial governments, and all others that have followed up to the 

* Le Peril Social, gue faire pour le conjurer en assurant a la France la prosperity et le calme ? 
By Count de la Barre'de Nanteuil. Paris : E. Plon Nourrit et Cie. The Social Peril ; what 
is to be done to avert it by restoring to France prosperity and tranquillity? 

t The Revolution must be condemned as a failure if it can be shown that after the lapse of a 
century it finds that it has to begin anew, that it is at loss what course to follow, and is in un- 
ceasing struggle with conspiracies and anarchy. 



834 WITH READERS AND CORRESPONDENTS. [Sept., 

present day; it consists in the appointment of too numerous functionaries and em- 
ployees of the general government, and in some other ways which there is no space 
to explain here. In the political order the absolute royal power of Louis XIV. 
had prepared the way for the work afterwards done by the Revolution. From 
1614 to 1789, a period of one hundred and seventy-five years, the Pltats-Generaux 
had not once been convoked. Men of noble or high social standing, residents of 
the provinces, were given no chance to take part in local administration, which 
was mainly given over to government agents. Louis XVI. had no right to 
change the fundamental law in 1789, by requiring the representatives in the 
Etats-Generaux of the nobility and clergy to go into and form one assembly with 
the Tiers Etat, where they were sure to be outvoted and lose all the power 
they could have otherwise exerted as a conservative counterpoise, then so much 
needed, in the work of national political reform. Everybody knows about the 
revolutionary ordeal through which France was afterwards made to go. The 
church in France lost all its autonomy and means of independent self support, 
and finally had to consent to be salaried by government. The present republican 
regime is responsible only for the evil which it has done since 1871 by pernicious 
legislation. This comprises laws legalizing divorce, which subverts the stability 
and sanctity of the family ; other enactments for the purpose of persecuting the 
church and the religious orders, and doing harm to the cause of religion ; and for 
permitting the removal by government of office-holders at will and without 
showing cause therefor, and often for no other reason than because of a candid 
expression of political opinions. The aggregate result, after a century's expe- 
rience, is that in France, at the present day, instability has become a permanent 
feature in the status of the family, of religion, and of civil and political institu- 
tions, and until it is cured by restoring independence and stability to the four 
national elements above mentioned there can be no prospect of ever founding a 
good and durable government. As an instance of instability in the political 
order, Count de Nanteuil points out the too great facility possessed by parliamen- 
tary majorities, past and present, to turn a ministry out. He thinks this should 
be remedied by making the fall of a ministry carry with it, ipso facto, a dissolu- 
tion of the legislative chambers, and an appeal to the country by calling a new 
election, just as often has taken place in England. Legislators would then be- 
come more chary of combining through political caprice or intrigue to upset the 
ministry in power. He suggests that the senate would be better composed if 
there were virtually represented in it, by prominent men of each class, besides 
the religious and moral interests of the realm, those of the army, the judiciary, 
and the varied and permanent interests of property, agriculture, commerce, and 
other industries. He contends that universal suffrage, uniform and equal, as at 
present in France, represents only an aggregate of individuals, indistinctive of 
classes, is subversive of personal independence in the elected, promotes neither 
governmental nor legislative science, but principally a constant political agita- 
tion and machinations to secure votes, and should be amended so as not to leave 
unrepresented the great interests of the nation. 

He instances the system followed in Prussia, and probably also in other parts 
of Germany. In Prussia the House of Deputies is divided into thirds, one of 
which is elected respectively by electors paying the first, second, and third highest 
shares of direct taxes. The writer suggests for France a system somewhat 
similar in theory and its main features to the German, but comprehensive of more 
interests, and leaving one-third of legislators to be elected by wage-earners. He 
points out that the population of France is falling in number so much below 
other European nations that, in view of future safety and defence, a sound and 



1 

1889.] WITH READERS AND CORRESPONDENTS. 835 

stable government, bringing with it prosperity and tranquillity, is now of para- 
mount need. The population of France, which was 26,000,000 in 1779, has after 
the lapse of a century increased only one-third. At the beginning of this century 
the annual increase was 6.02 per thousand ; it had fallen to 3.34, in 1879, and has 
further decreased during the past five years to 2.86 per thousand, and if this rate 
of diminution continues, will become in time stationary. 

The monograph before us gives evidence of careful thought and diligent 
study, and is cleverly and elegantly written. It has been highly commended by sev- 
eral of the leading journals of the provinces, and by La Reforme Sociale, founded 
by M. Le Play. It contains many forcible and interesting citations from eminent 
French publicists ; one of these, a prediction by the celebrated M. de Bonald, is 
deserving of mention here " that France, the eldest of revolutionized nations, 
will be the first to either be born anew or to perish." B. 



THE COLUMBIAN READING UNION. 

ALL COMMUNICATIONS RELATING TO READING CIRCLES, LISTS OF BOOKS, ETC., SHOULD 
BE ADDRESSED TO THE COLUMBIAN READING UNION, NO. 415 WEST FIFTY-NINTH 
STREET, NEW YORK CITY. 

The Catholic Young Men's National Union, which was mentioned and ap- 
proved in the pastoral letter issued by the prelates of the United States in 1884, 
has given considerable attention to the formation and development of Catholic 
libraries. At each of the annual conventions the societies were requested to make 
a report of the number of volumes accessible to their members, and such other 
information as would tend to promote the general welfare of Catholic literature. 
Much good has been already done in this direction ; many fine libraries have 
been formed by the literary societies, which provide their members with abundant 
facilities for self-improvement. From the young men, therefore, the Columbian 
Reading Union rightly expects valuable co-operation in the work of diffusing 
good literature, and of demanding recognition for our Catholic writers in all the 
public libraries of the land. The time has arrived for an aggressive movement all 
along the line. By a combination of forces, such as we propose, results hitherto 
unattainable can be achieved. Within the past year we have gathered evidence, 
of awakened interest from many correspondents in various parts of the United 
States and Canada. It has been shown conclusively that the reading clubs 
formed by young ladies are willing and able to take an important part in the 
good work. The object we have in view will establish friendly relations between 
Catholic authors and their readers, and lead to a better understanding of the 
practical methods which will advance the best interests of the reading public at 
large. 

The extensive outline of reading courses for young men published in this 
issue of THE CATHOLIC WORLD is worthy of attentive perusal and study. It 
shows a wide range of reading, and has been very favorably criticised by several 
competent scholars to whom it was submitted. Unanimity of opinion on all the 
points mentioned is scarcely to be expected. We shall be pleased to get com- 
ments or further information on any of the topics suggested. The paper is well 
deserving the notice of the delegates at the coming convention of the Catholic 
Young Men's National Union, to be held at Providence, Rhode Island, in 
September. 



836 WITH READERS AND CORRESPONDENTS. [Sept., 

READING COURSES FOR YOUNG MEN. 

"Permit me to express my great pleasure in observing the interest which 
THE CATHOLIC WORLD is awakening in the question of Catholic Reading Circles. 
The scope of the project will be beneficial to young men. For them it is espe- 
cially necessary, since they are brought in closer contact with the great tide of in- 
differentism and unbelief which surrounds us. 

" I would suggest that the reading should consist of certain definite courses, 
each having unity and completeness in itself, and yet related to the others by 
the dominating idea of illustrating the operation of divine truth, and the great 
social organism which is its guardian, as the dynamic element in the upward pro- 
gress of mankind. The greater part of the subjects chosen should be of practical 
significance in connection with the current life and thought of the world. 

" I have drawn up an outline, arranged historically, of the subjects which, it 
seems to me, ought, as far as possible, to be covered in the courses for young 
men, making only occasional references to individual books, but more often, es- 
pecially in the case of the present century, mentioning the names prominent in 
the epoch or class in question. Most of the persons named are converts to our 
holy religion. The whole is meant merely by way of suggestion. I think that 
the subjects are deserving of the attention of any young author-errant in search 
of literary adventures in which to employ nobly and usefully his talents. How- 
ever dry and weighty some of the topics may appear to be, it would be within the 
possibilities of skill and loving interest to invest them with such charms that their 
study will become as delightful as a page of Manzoni. 

" i. The geological history of the planet on which we live. 

" 2. Archaeological lights on the remote history of mankind, with care to 
avoid the assumption of a universal succession of palaeolithic, neolithic, bronze, 
and iron ages, which was intended for the purpose of discrediting religion, and 
has been discarded by the most advanced science. 

"3. Bible history of the patriarchal age. 

"4. Bible history of the Hebrew nation. 

"5. The early history of the Aryan race, with special attention to the Rig 
Veda and the Zend Avesta as containing remains of the primeval revelation. See 
Gentilism, by the Jesuit Father Thebaud. 

"6. Greek history and literature, as illustrating the transmission and de- 
cadence of the divine traditions of the patriarchal age. The Amphictyonic 
Councils, the writings of Plato, ^Eschylus, etc. 

" 7. Early Rome. With the special prominence given to Numa Pompilius 
shown by Father Formby to be his due as a possessor of the divine traditions. 
See Monotheism, the Primitive Religion of Rome. 

"8. Rome under the Caesars : the gradual spread of Christianity, its subtle, 
unrecognized influence, illustrated by the works of Marcus Aurelius and others, 
and its final triumph. Wiseman's Fabiola, Newman's Callista, Mrs. Dorsey's 
Palms, the historical works of Allies, etc. 

"9. Reconstruction of Europe by the church and the monastic orders. 
Allies' Holy See and the Wandering of the Nations, Montalembert's Monks of the 
West, etc. 

' 10. The Gregorian Reformation of the twelfth century, and the rise of 
the Scholastic philosophy. 

' ii. The Middle Ages, showing, in opposition to the popular notions of to- 
day, the high and rapidly progressing intellectual, social, and political condition 
of Europe at that time. Works of Balmes, Maitland, Digby, Ozanam, etc. 

' 12. The Classic Renaissance. 

' 13. The Borromean Reformation of the sixteenth century. 

' 14. The moral degradation, social disintegration, political centraliza- 
tion, and other evils which resulted from the Protestant Revolution. 

'15. Erastianism : the evil effects of the encroachments of the state upon 
the rights of the church, from the time of Constantine to the present, producing 
a long series of abuses, aggravated by Protestantism, which culminated finally in 
the atheistical Revolution of the eighteenth century. 

* 16. Social and intellectual history of Italy and Southern Germany, the 



1889.] WITH READERS AND CORRESPONDENTS. 837 

centres of European culture, during the sixteenth, seventeenth, and eighteenth 
centuries. * 

" 17. Catholic Revival in Germany in the nineteenth century. Schlegel, 
Gorres, Werner, Stolberg, Hahn-Hahn, Gaforer, Lewald, etc. 

" 1 8. Revival of art in Germany (under Catholic auspices) in the nineteenth 
century. Cornelius, Overbeck, Shadow, Veit, etc. 

''19. Catholic Revival in France in the nineteenth century. Lacordaire, 
Chateaubriand, Ozanam, Montalembert, Maine de Biron, Royer-Collard, Veuil- 
lot, Ampere, Droz, Lenormant, Thierry, etc. 

"20. Catholic Revival in Great Britain in the nineteenth century. Newman, 
Faber, Wilberforce, Coleridge, Spencer, Digby, Paley, Arnold, Ward, Oakeley, 
Howitt, Bute, Biady, etc. 

"21. Artistic Reaction in Great Britain towards mediaeval Catholic models. 
Preraphaelitism. Ruskin, etc. ; also Pugin, John Rogers Herbert, etc. 

" 22. Premonitions of Catholic Revival in the United States. Brownson, 
Hecker, Bishop England, the Spaldings, Huntington, Taney, Haldeman, Ives, 
McLeod, Preston, etc. 

" 23. Premonitions of Catholic Revival in Scandinavia. Zoega, etc. 

"24. Premonitions of Catholic Revival in Russia. Madame Swetchine, the 
Princes Gallitzin, the Princes Gagarin, etc. 

"25. Premonitions of Catholic Revival in Switzerland. Hurter, Miiller, etc. 

" 26. Catholicity among the Jews. Bernard Bauer in Hungary ; Hermann, 
the Abbes de Ratisbonne, and the Abbe Lemand in France ; Baron d'Eckstein 
in Denmark ; Liebermann in Germany, etc. 

"27. Travels. Ozanam's Cid; Lady Herbert's Cradle Lands and Glimpses 
of Spain; Fairbanks' Visit to Europe and the Holy Land; Baron Geraud's Pil- 
grimage to Palestine, Egypt, and Syria, etc. 

" 28. Social problems. Leo XIII., Cardinal Manning, Count de Mun, 
Prince Lichtenstein, Baron Wambold, Baron Vogelsang, Ballanche, Father 
Weiss, Jannet, Drumont, Mallock, Powderly, etc. 

" 29. Current scientific controversies. Mivart, Lilly, Gmeiner, De Concilio, 
Ward, Mallock, etc. 

"30. Ingersolliana. Lambert, etc. 

"31. War of Freemasonry against the church. Works of Dupanloup, Par- 
sons, Mgr. Dillon, etc. Masonry as the mainspring of the Revolution. Its 
temporary successes in France, Italy, Mexico, etc., and its overthrow in Belgium, 
Holland, Spain (Balmes), Germany (Windhorst), Ecuador (Moreno), etc. 

"32. Contemporary Catholic poets of England and America. Aubrey de 
Vere, Coventry Patmore, Father Ryan, Eliza Allen Starr, Joaquin Miller, 
Maurice F. Egan, Eleanor C. Donnelly. 

"33. Contemporary Catholic fiction. Christian Reid, Rev. J. Talbot 
Smith, Hendrik Conscience, Lady Fullerton, Lady Herbert of Lea, Anna Han- 
son Dorsey, Kathleen O'Meara, etc. 

"MERWIN-MARIE SNELL, 

" Member of the Philosophical and Anthropological Societies of Washington.''* 

" The operation of divine truth, and the great social organism which is its 
guardian," have been powerfully displayed in Ireland. In no part of the world 
has the conflict between truth and error appeared more unequal. Another course 
of reading should be added to the list as given above, showing how Catholics ac- 
count for the triumph of the church among the children of St. Patrick. We hope 
that the author will give as soon as possible detailed lists of the books suitable for 
the courses outlined. 

There is so much apathy prevalent, like a mental malaria, that we felt in- 
vigorated by the perusal of this letter, which has a clarion ring in it. 

" I have read what has been published in reference to the Columbian Read- 
ing Union in THE CATHOLIC WORLD. The plan is a good one and the demand 
for Catholic reading cannot be urged too strongly. It is the duty of the church 
to educate the ignorant, especially in reference to her own divine teachings. 



838 WITH READERS AND CORRESPONDENTS. [Sept., 

Non-Catholics are accused of being unfair ; they are not so always. Many are 
simply ignorant, stupidly ignorant, on Catholic belief and practices: To verify 
this ask a non-Catholic about the Jesuits ; he may masquerade as an expert, but 
you will discover very soon that he knows not of what he speaks, though he may 
be generally well informed ; he is warped and twisted by bad literature and false 
history until his knowledge is an injury to him, because it shuts out the truth. Ask 
your next non-Catholic about ' indulgences,' and if you are not loaded with 
falsehood and foolishness you will be more fortunate than I have been. Ask an- 
other about absolution, and he may not know what it means, unless you mention 
that it relates to the forgiveness of sins. Here, again, you will observe his ignor- 
ance, not unfairness, not prejudice alone, but deep, dark ignorance sixteen ounces 
to the pound. 

" Ignorance is the dark wall between the Catholic Church and other Chris- 
tian people, and we are in fault for many reasons. We are not as intelligently 
aggressive as we should be. Our warfare should never be upon the faith of an- 
other or form of another man's belief, but our work should be to show the beauti- 
ful features of the Catholic Church. Put books into the hands of those we re- 
spect ; supply them with the Catholic side of each question, and when you open 
the mental door once it can never be completely closed again. I have often said 
to non-Catholics : ' If you open your mind honestly God's angels will capture 
you and land you inside the confessional.' ' The Columbian Reading Union ' 
is a step in educating the people. Gentlemen will study your plan and read 
your books instead of asking their stableman or their cook what the Catholic 
Church teaches. The Catholic, too, will add information to faith, and be able to 
answer honest inquiry or refute ignorant assertion. He will do more thinking 
and less fighting for his church. The parish priest, too, will discover the neces- 
sity of assisting the congregation to become better informed so that greater at- 
tention will be given to able discourses. I do not think the Union will produce 
any evil, not even the evil of discussion ; it may induce comparison of views and 
suggest inquiry, all of which will lead to sure victory for the church if honestly 
and vigorously pressed. < Q , BRIEN ; ATKINSON> 

"Fort Gratiot, Mich." 

Will some of our readers answer the question proposed in this letter ? 

" I have been reading Hypnotism, by D. H. Tuke, M.D. ; also Loveland's 
Lectures. May I ask, Have Catholics written anything directly on these subjects, 
and when published ? I am unable to get some books on the subject for others 
to read." 

Here is a plan described in one of our exchanges which involves extra work 
for teachers, but much profit for scholars : 

"Superintendent - submitted an interesting report on the work of the 
teachers in distributing books from the public library among the children. In 
compliance with a resolution passed by the library board, he said, twenty-nine 
teachers had applied for the privilege of drawing books from the public library 
for distribution among their children. Pupils receiving books from teachers were 
required to secure the necessary library cards, and the books were issued in the 
same manner as in the public library. The cards were stamped and the dates of 
return and reissue of the books to pupils were recorded. From the library 830 
books were taken and distributed among the teachers, and 2,498 issues of these 
books to pupils were made. The results achieved by this new system of provid- 
ing the pupils with reading matter were excellent, according to the unanimous 
testimony of all the teachers. The pupils by this system were being accustomed 
to reading select literature. The selections made by the teachers were especially 
adapted to the capacity of the child, and the opportunities for reading thus 
offered removed, in a great measure, the temptation' to read trashy literature, 
which was too easily obtained by young readers. A decided improvement in the 
taste of the children was noticeable. Many complimentary remarks were re- 
ceived from parents. Among the suggestions made were the following : To in- 



1889.] WITH READERS AND CORRESPONDENTS. 839 

elude magazines among the books sent to the schools ; to make it optional with 
the teachers to keep the books in the schools as long as they choose ; to increase 
the number of standard books and furnish several copies of those most in 
demand; to permit holders of school cards to draw books only at school; to 
establish a distinct department in the library for furnishing books to the schools ; 
and to extend the privilege of book-borrowing to one or two of the lower grades 
the third and fourth, for example and to lessen the grade work to enable the 
pupils to devote more time to reading." 

In a recent address Judge Richard O'Gorman, of New York City, gave elo- 
quent utterance to some thoughts which should be eagerly absorbed by all who 
are working for the diffusion of good books. We hope the address from which 
we quote will be published in pamphlet form for general circulation. 

" It is something to know what were the thoughts and hopes and fears and as- 
pirations of great men in great eras of the world, and to hear them speak in their 
own language. Instead of decrying these studies now, the time, as I think, has 
come for cultivating them with greater ardor. The conditions of life and thought 
and public action in America are changing fast. * The old order changeth, giving 
place to the new. ' The serious problems to be considered will demand all the 
knowledge that can be gathered from any source, as well as all the wisdom that 
is native and to the manner born. And it is not just to say that there is in liter- 
ature no practical value. The literature of a nation, to a great extent, directs 
its purpose, spurs it to activity, and chronicles its progress. The silent nations 
of the past have lived, died, and are forgotten. It is a nation's literature alone 
that keeps the memory of a nation's career for ever green in men's souls. So it 
will ever be. Thus literature is very practical. It is thought, not force, that 
rules the world. 

" ' A pebble cast into the sea is felt from shore to shore, 

And a thought from the heart set free will echo on for evermore.' ' 

From Appleton's Literary Bulletin we borrow a paragraph on the historic 
novel, which will be of interest to those following the course of reading suggested 
in the first book-list of the Columbian Reading Union : 

" The difficulty of the imaginative writer," says the Athenceum, "who 
attempts, whether in prose or verse, to vivify the past, seems to be increasing 
every day with the growth of the scientific temper and the reverence of the sa- 
credness of mere documents. The old-fashioned theory the theory which 
obtained from Shakspere's time down to Scott's, and even down to Kingsley's 
that the facts of history could be manipulated for artistic purposes with the same 
freedom that the artist's own inventions can be handled, gave the artist power to 
produce vital and flexible work at the expense of the historic conscience a 
power which is being curtailed day by day. The instinct for vivifying by im- 
aginative treatment the records of the past is too universal and too deeply in- 
woven in the very texture of the human mind to be other -than a true and 
healthy instinct. But so oppressive has become the tyranny of documents, so 
fettered by what a humorist has called ' factology ' have become the wings of the 
romancer's imagination, that one wonders at his courage in dealing with historic 
subjects at all. A bold writer would be he who in the present day should make 
Shakspere figure among the Kenilworth festivities as a famous player (after the 
manner of Scott), or who should (after the manner of Kingsley) give Elizabeth 
credit for Winter's device of using the fire-ships before Calais." 

The prospectus of the Columbian Reading Union has been mailed to the 
hierarchy of the United States, to the academies and select schools, and to all 
the papers and magazines on the exchange list of THE CATHOLIC WORLD. We 
hope to get comments, suggestions, and advice from these sources. A good 
word in favor of our project coming from those in authority will render great 
assistance to the movement. 



840 WITH READERS AND CORRESPONDENTS, [Sept., 

The Catholic American, of New York, has given prominent editorial sanction 
in words of hearty commendation of our efforts. As an exposition of our plan it 
deserves a careful perusal from our readers : 

"THE READING CLUBS. 

" One of the best ideas which has moved the Catholic body in many years is 
that which has lately made its appearance under the name of the Columbian 
Reading Union. We commend its aim and its methods to the attention of every 
reader of the Catholic American. 

" Its aim is to unite the host of Catholic readers in one determined body, 
for the purpose of encouraging Catholic literature, and of bringing within knowl- 
edge and reach of its members the best Catholic books and periodicals, and also 
the purest and most useful of secular publications. Its methods are so simple 
that children can be easily organized into clubs and given all the advantages of 
the idea. 

"In every town Catholics are to-day more or less strong, and have in com- 
mon with their Protestant and infidel neighbors a taste for reading only too 
easily gratified. It has been the policy of literary Americans to neglect and 
ignore and discourage everything in the shape of Catholic literature. Catholics, 
by their indifference, have -assisted them in this ignoble work, and if the former 
have suffered much from their venomous bigotry, the latter have almost extin- 
guished themselves by stupid neglect of their own. 

"We have in every department of literature and art and science the most 
distinguished names, but they are rarely or never known to be Catholic. When 
their faith comes to the front in their art they are quickly sat upon by their anti- 
Catholic patrons, and find no defenders among their own brethren. They are 
not known by their brethren, and they gradually drift away from Catholic in- 
fluences and come, perhaps, to have a sort of artistic scepticism with regard to 
Catholic culture. 

" This sad state of things the Reading Union' purposes to change with more 
or less success. Its design is to gather together the readers in every district, and 
to make out for them courses of reading which will bring them into intimacy 
with Catholic authors and artists and scientists, which will enlarge their horizon 
of thought, and by systematic work leave them at the end of the course a resi- 
duum of culture and some ideas which were not theirs before. 

" For instance, ten or twelve persons with a taste for reading meet at the 
residence of a friend, form themselves into a branch of the Columbian Reading 
Union, and send one dollar to the central bureau of management. In return 
they receive .regularly for one year copies of reading lists, where courses suited 
to differing tastes are made out. These reading courses are very simple, and 
yet very thorough. 

" The simplicity of the plan is the surest indication of its practicability and 
future success. It should be taken up at once by all the Catholic journals, and 
given as much publicity as possible. And every energetic Catholic who wishes 
to do a modest and useful share towards the awakening of our people to a sense 
of their needs can choose nothing which will conduce more to that end. Schools 
and colfeges and convents should all be represented in the Union. The neces- 
sary information can be obtained by sending letters to the Columbian Reading 
Union, No. 415 West Fifty-ninth Street, New York City." 

We naturally expect the graduates of Catholic institutions of learning to 
show a profound appreciation of whatever has a bearing on intellectual develop- 
ment. It is hardly necessary to appeal to them for their active support of the 
enterprise started by this magazine. If the matter is properly brought before 
them by their officers we feel confident that they will cheerfully use their in- 
fluence in a way that will make itself felt. 

Le Couteulx Leader, of Buffalo, N. Y., tells how it maybe done practically : 
' A meeting of the Holy Angels' Academy Alumnae Association was held 



1 889.] 



WITH READERS AND CORRESPONDENTS. 841 



last week, chiefly to arrange for the annual reunion of its members, which this 
year is to take plade on the day preceding the commencement. The change has 
been made to accommodate members from out of town who wish to remain for 
the closing exercises of the school year. A secondary object of the meeting was 
the consideration of the question of 'Reading Circles,' of late so much discussed 
in our Catholic journals. It was decided that the society should take the neces- 
sary steps to be represented in the ' Columbian Reading Union,' now formed, an 
outcome of the many articles upon this subject published in THE CATHOLIC 
WORLD under the heading of ' Reading Circles.' " 

From the same source we quote a statement fully in accord with the opinions 
presented by many writers in these pages within the past year. It seems incredi- 
ble that any one with ordinary intelligence could fail to understand the main out- 
lines of the plan originated by the founders of the Columbian Reading Union. 
We commend the statement to those whom it may concern, and extend our 
thanks to the writer : 

"A long communication from Youngstown, Ohio, describes the organization 
of a Catholic Educational Union in that city and sets forth the need of such an 
institution. It is to work on lines similar to those of the Columbian Reading 
Union. The prospectus of the latter had not been read, apparently, by the 
writer of the letter mentioned, as he alludes to ' a proposed society for the benefit 
of the Catholic women of the United States, etc., etc.,' and asks why 'young 
men should be excluded from the scope of the plan.' They are not. The 
Columbian Union proposes to extend its advantages to men and women of both 
leisured and working classes. The important field of juvenile literature will 
receive due attention. In fact, nothing could be broader and more comprehen- 
sive than its proposed working plan. In view of this it seems a pity that there 
should be more than the one central organization, and particularly a pity that 
any 'official organ or magazine' should be established. It is an unnecessary 
dispersion of forces. Local Reading Circles throughout the country can find 
everything they need in the guide-lists of the Columbian Reading Union, while 
their ' organ,' already made and influential, exists in THE CATHOLIC WORLD it- 
self, a magazine which counts among its contributors many of the best writers in 
America, England, and Ireland. In the department of Reading Circles space is 
allotted for the ' references, queries, answers, explanatory notes, valuable sugges- 
tions, etc.' . . . and all matters of interest profitable to the various 
clubs and their central association. However, whether there be unions within 
unions, circles within circles, affiliated or not to a head organization, it is consol- 
ing to see all along the line a real awakening to the importance of encouraging 
among writers and readers a high and pure literature ; and an earnest effort to 
insure its propagation." 

M. C. M. 



THE ARCHBISHOP OF GLASGOW AND THE LEAGUE OF THE CROSS. 

It is gratifying to notice the strenuous efforts that are being made at present 
by the Archbishop of Glasgow, in union with the priests of his diocese, to 
institute an organized religious crusade against the great vice of intemperance. 
During last Lent a series of missions was given in the various churches, and 
as a result it was determined that special united efforts should be made against 
the sin of drunkenness. The archbishop, taking the initiative, summoned 
a conference of his 'senior priests, in which the matter was fully discussed, and 
they resolved to begin a complete organization of the League of the Cross 
throughout the diocese. It is proposed to establish a branch of the League 
in every parish and mission of the diocese, with a central council in Glasgow, 
VOL. XLIX. 54 



842 -WITH READERS AND CORRESPONDENTS. [Sept., 

over which the archbishop will preside. A further proposal states " that where 
total abstinence societies exist, or branches of the Total Abstinence League, they 
shall be converted into branches of the League of the Cross, and the pledge 
readministered to the members according to its regulations." The archbishop 
himself launched the new organization, in which he is taking the deepest per- 
sonal interest, by issuing a circular letter in which he says (we quote from 
a report printed in an excellent Catholic journal, the Glasgow Observer) : 



" No one can doubt that amongst the evils of great cities intemperance 
is perhaps the most dangerous,, from the rapidity with which the habit of it is 
contracted, and the terrible results that follow it. Every one has had under his 
own eyes, some amongst their own friends and relations, many cases in which it 
has led to immorality and dishonesty, ruined promising lives, and broken up 
happy homes. We feel that it must be kept in check if true Christian life is to 
continue amongst us; that intemperance must be reduced, and all of us guarded 
against its temptations. Therefore, in every one of our missions our priests are 
struggling against it by preaching, by pastoral visits, and by the establishment 
of societies. But now they all desire that the united effort of the general 
mission against evils of every kind should be followed by united effort against 
this particular evil. After consultation with them, therefore, we have deter- 
mined to establish a total abstinence society to be known as the League of the 
Cross of the Archdiocese of Glasgow, with a branch in every district of the city 
and suburbs, and a central council over which we shall preside. And we trust 
that before long branches will be established in every mission of the diocese." 
After enumerating the rules of the League, His Grace continues: "We desire 
that the benefits of this society should be extended to the women as well as to 
the men of each congregation, and we leave k to the senior priests to do what 
in their discretion may seem best to accomplish this object in so far as it can be 
done without interference with the duties of domestic life. We feel sure that 
the good which has been done hitherto by the societies of the various missions 
will be largely increased when they are gathered together and strengthened by 
united efforts and mutual sympathy and encouragement." 

This was issued last May. Reports "since given to the public show how 
earnestly the priests have gone to work, and how enthusiastically the people 
have taken up the good cause. In St. John's Church, at one of the usual 
weekly Monday night meetings, Father Macluskey, the pastor, gave the League 
pledge to ten new members ; in St. Mungo's, the church of the Passionists, at 
two consecutive meetings it was given to forty-six new members ; in St. Mary's 
to twenty ; in St. Aloysius, Glasgow, the Jesuit's church, Father Gordon 
received twenty-nine new members into his branch of the League; in Baillieston, 
at the first meeting under the new constitution, 25 1 men, women, and children 
took or renewed the pledge under the new form ; and so on in other churches 
the same quiet and steady enthusiasm is manifested. 

Much good may be expected from a movement begun so auspiciously, and 
which has already shown signs of such vigorous life. It puts the temperance 
cause on a proper religious basis. Intemperance is a sin and can be fought 
efficaciously with the religious weapons God puts into our hands, prayer and 
sacramental grace. This movement, moreover, has an impulse from the 
"powers that be." It has the whole organized force of the Catholic Church 
behind it. Individuals, zealous for the good of the people, may do much, and 
often work reforms in neighborhoods or parishes. But they as often wear them- 
selves out in a hopeless warfare with this degrading vice. Widespread organiza- 
tion is necessary for solid and permanent results, and the encouragement of 
persons of conspicuous ability, or of those enjoying the opportunities for good 
incident to high office, is of incalculable benefit. 



1889.] NEW PUBLICATIONS. 843 



NEW PUBLICATIONS. 

FRENCH TRAITS. An Essay in Comparative Criticism. By W. C. Brownell. 
New York : Chas. Scribner's Sons. 

This is a studious and appreciative book, made up of some nine or ten 
essays on such subjects as the Social Instinct, Morality, Manners, the Art 
Instinct, Women, Democracy. These topics are diverse, and their unity, so far 
as they need and have it, is occasioned by the continuous contrast and com- 
parison in each essay with the corresponding Anglo-Saxon principles, ideals, and 
habits of thought and action. Mr. Brownell has made his observations with 
much care and study; he has marshalled his information and made it effective, 
and has leavened the whole with critical generalizations and a philosophy which, 
if not always sound, is broad and kindly. The author possesses one of the 
mental traits of the people he treats of, viz., an interest so real, and a desire for 
the truth so genuine, that he is impartial and impersonal in his judgments. 
While the book will always have a value for its information, its cleverness and 
fairness, it has a special opportuneness just now ; we may be allowed to doubt, 
however, if many of the thousands of Americans now visiting the Paris Exposi- 
tion will take the time or have the interest and ability to follow Mr. BrownelFs 
careful and pointed essays. In treating of manners and life, in the domain 
of art, in criticising literary and social habits, we find the author more reliable, 
happy, and satisfactory than when he discourses of morality itself, and makes 
judgment of the application of its principles to a Catholic people. Indeed, we 
do not know where to find him. Having admitted that morality is a funda- 
mental matter, he says: "We understand morality in many different ways. 
French morality is morality in the etymological sense. The chief distinction 
between us, the chief characteristic which in this sphere sets off the Frenchman 
from the Anglo-Saxon, and from the Spaniard also, and the Italian, over whom 
he triumphs morally, perhaps, is his irreligiousness. " This is wonderful indeed ; 
it is strange that having enumerated the various moralities, rational, utilitarian, 
and religious, he has not favored us with his own code. If we could conjecture 
his favorite, it would seem to be that of Voltaire. In concluding this funda- 
mental matter he propounds the following query: " Which best serves the cause 
of social morality, the Salvation Army or Girard College, Mr. Moody or Har- 
vard University ?" We think for a man so enlightened his enumeration might 
have comprised institutions and persons better known ; the work could be better 
ascertained, as it has stood the test of time and man's ignorance and passions. 
We find the same uncertainty, the same eclectic and shallow treatment of the 
church. True, he is complimentary to its expansiveness, its humanizing and 
unifying power ; he points out in a graphic way the contrast of this to the narrow 
concentration, the lack of sympathy, the exaggerated individualism, with its 
varying and contradictory standard of duty, which is a tenet and a practical 
result of Protestantism ; but he says the predominant influence of the Catholic 
Church has been to destroy individualism, to assume entire charge of the 
conscience, and to put the centre and standard of our moral nature outside our- 
selves. Mr. Brownell is sometimes hard to be pleased as well as understood. 
On page 305 he says that Catherine de Medici is the creator of modern France, 



844 NEW PUBLICATIONS. [Sept., 

as Henry VIII. is of modern England and Philip II. of modern Spain, in the 
sense, that is to say, of having preserved it Catholic, and made Catholic 
influence solely predominant. This he considers a very great benefit ; it har- 
monized society and thought, it prevented narrowness and provincialism; univer- 
sality, the agreement of the many, is both an argument for faith and a support 
and sympathy in its practice. He might have added many more tangible tem- 
poral and spiritual blessings, yet for all this the massacre of St. Bartholomew 
was the greatest misfortune that ever befell France. And this not in itself, not 
for any restriction of liberty, but because of the potentialities of the France of 
Coligny's time. The blessings of peace and development ; the avoidance of all 
the evils suffered, for example, by Germany before and during and after the 
Thirty Years' War ; the rapine, lust, the murders and tortures of Henry and his 
successors in England ; all this, forsooth, is no compensation for the potentialities 
of the France of Coligny's time and post-revolutionary France is something 
of a disappointment. 

As Catholics we should have liked to see more care in some statements 
touching on the present power and influence of religion. But with these defects 
the book is a careful and fair-minded study of an interesting and wonderful 
nation, attractive in itself, and dear to us by many and sacred ties. 



THE POPE AND IRELAND. Containing newly-discovered historical facts con- 
cerning the forged Bulls attributed to Popes Adrian IV. and Alexander III., 
together with a sketch of the union existing between the Catholic Church 
and Ireland from the twelfth to the nineteenth century. By Stephen J. 
McCormick, editor of the San Francisco Monitor. San Francisco : A. 
Waldteufel ; New York, Cincinnati, and Chicago : Benziger Bros. 

The questions treated in this book are of vital interest to the student of 
history, especially those who are of Irish lineage. Did the Holy See make 
Ireland, or attempt to make Ireland, a fief of the English crown? The Bul- 
larium Romanum contains a Bull of Adrian IV., conferring upon Henry II. 
of England the sovereignty of Ireland, and another Bull of Adrian's suc- 
cessor, Alexander III., confirming the grant. Both Bulls are of suspicious 
brevity and obscurity, were never known to the public till several years 
after their supposed issue, and were claimed and used by one of the most 
unscrupulous and brutal, though one of the ablest, of the Norman monarchs 
the murderer of St. Thomas Becket. A document of this sort, unused and 
unknown until twenty years after its date, should be void from staleness, and that 
would be a sufficient answer to its allegation as anything in the nature of a 
grant of power. But the controversy runs deeper than pleas to the validity 
of the Bull ; it concerns its genuineness. Mr. McCormick has collated the 
authorities on the subject, has investigated the question at the Vatican 
library itself, and has established a fair historical doubt that at least ; an im- 
partial reader will, we feel certain, readily concede that the Bulls were forgeries. 

Geraldus Cambrensis has been the chief reliance of those who have accepted 
the Bull, he being a contemporary writer, or almost contemporary with the 
seizure of Ireland by Henry. The fact that he wrote when he did, a time when 
literature had little influence and no criticism outside of the monasteries, has 
given him all too much credit. The fulsome laudation of Henry by this monk is 
enough to cast suspicion on him : "the Alexander of the West," "the invin- 
cible," " the Solomon of his age," "the most pious of princes," "who had the 
glory of repressing the fury of the Gentiles not only of Europe (that must mean 



1889.] NEW PUBLICATIONS. 845 

the Irish) but likewise of Asia beyond the Mediterranean," are specimens of his 
loquebar in conspectu regum. But when the king was dead, the courtier chron- 
icler abused him with an extravagance of condemnation and invective in 
excess of his previous flattery. It is clear that Cambrensis was a mendacious, 
and perhaps a bribed, witness, as is fully enough gathered from his preface to the 
book, The Conquest of Ireland. 

Mr. McCormick's book is one of much interest to all intelligent readers of 
history, and of absorbing interest to members of the Irish race, whose fidelity to 
conscience stimulates their loyalty to both Rome and Ireland. 



MEMOIR OF THE LIFE OF THE REVEREND FRANCIS A. BAKER, PRIEST OF 
THE CONGREGATION OF ST. PAUL. By Rev. A. F. Hewit. Seventh 
edition. New York : The Catholic Publication Society Co. 

For some time past this book has been out of print, and the present new 
edition is in answer to a steady and growing demand. Father Baker was pastor 
of an Episcopal church in Baltimore, and although he became a Catholic seven 
years after Cardinal Newman's conversion, he reached the truth, as did so many 
others, by following the same lines. This shows that he was no follower of men. 
He was a spirit of much independence, excellent good sense, but was particularly 
remarkable for what is called unction, a mingled power and sweetness which 
made him a splendid preacher. He reached men and he reached women. He 
was tender and strong ; he was manly and gentle, full of a charm which seldom 
failed to produce a profound religious impression upon his hearers. 

After becoming a Catholic he entered the Redemptorist Order and became 
a missionary. He was one of the original Paulist Fathers, and died in 1865, a 
death so premature as to be widely and deeply lamented. 

A special value is attached to this book because it gives a graphic account of 
what a missionary's life is and how missions are given. 



THE HOLY MASS. The Sacrifice of Jesus Christ ; the Ceremonies of the Mass; 
Preparation and Thanksgiving ; the Mass and the Office that are hurriedly 
said. By St. Alphonsus de Liguori, Doctor of the Church. Edited by the 
Rev. Eugene Grimm, Priest of the Congregation of the Most Holy Redeemer. 
New York, Cincinnati, and Chicago : Benziger Brothers. 

This well-known book contains a doctrinal, historical, and liturgical exposi- 
tion of the sacrifice of the Mass, especially addressed to the clergy. The volume 
has four parts. The first treats of the sacrifice of Jesus Christ, showing briefly 
its figures in the old law, its accomplishment on the cross, its continuation on our 
altars, and its eternity in heaven. St. Alphonsus then adds a short explanation 
of the prayers of Mass. To this is added a detailed explanation of the rubrics of 
Low Mass, which is supplemented by an appendix of the reverend editor, drawn 
from the rubrics of the Missal and St. Alphonsus' theology. Several interesting 
questions are then discussed on the subject of the honorarium. The third part of 
the volume is made up of a large and varied collection of considerations, affec- 
tions, acts, aspirations, and prayers for every day in the week. The book con- 
cludes with an urgent exhortation to priests to worthily fulfil the duties of their 
holy calling, especially that of standing for Christ at the Christian altar and 
offering the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass. Altogether it is an extremely useful and 
edifying hand-book for the clergy. 



846 NEW PUBLICATIONS. [Sept., 

THE STORY OF PATSY. By Kate Douglas Wiggin. Boston and New York : 
Houghton, Mifflin & Co. 

We cannot penetrate the dominant motive which actuated the writer in 
planning this book. It is interesting as a study of slang phrases arranged with 
considerable literary skill, though many parents seriously object to any influence 
which makes their children familiar with such language. There are several 
points of resemblance in The Story of Patsy evidently copied from Mrs. 
Ewing's exquisite Story of a Short Life. The latter deserves to rank as a 
classic in juvenile literature. 

Patsy is made the central figure of a kindergarten established for the poor 
children of San Francisco. Among many well-informed people the erroneous 
opinion is prevalent that the kindergarten system can do nothing more than pro- 
vide harmless recreation for the children of wealthy parents. Whether The 
Story of Patsy is based on fact or not, one thing is very plain, namely : that 
a kindergarten school managed according to the plan described could be made to 
exert a powerful influence in favor of missionary work. For this reason we 
recommend it to those in charge of Catholic schools, in the hope that they will 
utilize the advantages of the kindergarten system as soon as possible. 

By an unpardonable stretch of imagination little Patsy is compelled by the 
writer to say some strange things on the subject of religion, and is doomed to die, 
like a Boston bigot, without the priest. This part of the book will be especially 
approved by Mr. Vincent, the youngest of the so-called Methodist Bishops. No 
doubt Patsy's religious opinions will be read aloud with various intonations of 
voice and suitable gestures in the schools of the Children's Aid Society. And it 
is quite natural to suppose that the teachers may use the opportunity to make a 
few supplementary remarks showing how the horrid little papist was brought by 
Christian endeavors from rags and dirt to see the effulgent light of the blessed 
Reformation. 

We received lately from the publishers of this Story of Patsy a circular 
asking for the patronage of Catholic schools. If they wish to build up a trade 
among Catholics they must give a guarantee that Boston bigotry will be sternly 
excluded from their publications. It is not without good reason that our leading 
New York publishers no longer attack the Catholic Church. From a business 
point of view anti-Catholic literature is unprofitable. 

THOM.E A KEMPIS, DE IMITATIONS CHRISTI. Libri Quatuor. Textum edidit, 
Considerationes ad cujusque libri sigula capita ex ceteris ejusdem Thomae 
a Kempis opusculis collegit et adjecit Hermannus Gerlach, Canonicus Ec- 
clesiae Cathedralis Limburgensis utriusque juris Doctor. Opus posthumum. 
Freiburgi Breisgoviae et S. Ludovici : Herder. 

This is the Imitation in the original Latin text, supplemented by extracts 
from the other works of Thomas a Kempis. It is only those who have read a 
Kempis in the original who know how much is lost by the translation, how much 
of unction and expression. To print a book of devotional reading with devotional 
comments of an editor has always seemed to us a species of profanity, and hence 
certain French and English editions of the Imitation have the air of impertinence, 
thrusting the prayers and other pious matter of obscure writers into the company 
of such a master of souls as a Kempis. But Dr. Gerlach does no such thing as 
this. He gives us the author as the author's commentary. He does not, indeed, 
*give his references, and this we regret ; but the work is posthumous, and if its 
editor had lived he might have remedied this defect. 



1889.] NEW PUBLICATIONS. 847 

ESSAYS, CHIEFLY LITERARY AND ETHICAL. By Aubrey de Vere, LL.D. 
London and New York : Macmillan & Co. 

These essays are written in a pleasing style, clear, appreciative, and with 
that melodious rhythm which is the peculiar gift of the poet. The book is largely 
a poet's estimate of poetry, and who can so justly measure the worth of poetry? 
Of Archbishop Trench as a poet Mr. de Vere says that among contemporary 
Anglican poets he will probably be one day ranked among the best ; he is sure 
that there has been none other who combines with the devotional spirit so many 
excellences not generally included in religious poetry. The poems referred to 
are little known in America. This high commendation should be sufficient to 
introduce them to a more extended reading among us. One of these essays, 
that on Sir Samuel Ferguson, is very appreciative. The readers of THE CATHO- 
LIC WORLD will remember an able critique on this writer in our pages several 
months ago. According to this critic and to Mr. de Vere he is entitled to a 
higher place than has been given him, " for he has added the Gaelic string to the 
great English harp." 

Coventry Patmore, we are glad to see, has an essay in this volume. He is 
one of the best of English poets. Mr. de Vere well calls him "the poet of the finer 
emotions of modern society; 'The Angel in the House' a poem the exist- 
ence of which is better than a thousand a priori arguments in favor of the school 
to which it belongs." We are decidedly of opinion that Patmore's poems will 
assume a great and ever-increasing popularity among those whose suffrage is beet 
worth having. 

The author of this book is on the wrong side of the Irish question. We re- 
gret that he has bound up in the volume some unpleasant reading on that topic, 
ill sorted as such matter is with his graceful and kindly essays on literary sub- 
jects. 

WHAT TO DO IN CASES OF ACCIDENTS AND EMERGENCIES, etc., etc. By 
Joseph B. Lawrence, medical and surgical nurse. New York : J. H. Vail 
& Co. 

To recommend this most useful little volume to parents for home reading 
would be, we fear, to set the mothers worrying all day long in the absence of 
their children. We do not deny that it would be good for them to have it within 
reach for consultation. But we do heartily recommend it to those in charge 
of schools, and especially to all superiors of colleges, convents, asylums, protec- 
tories, and similar institutions which have care of the young. 

LESSONS FROM OUR LADY'S LIFE. By the author of The Little Rosary of the 
Sacred Heart. London : Burns & Oates ; New York : The Catholic Publi- 
cation Society Co. 

We regret that this pretty volume did not reach us in time to recommend it 
to our readers for the month of May, for it is specially arranged with a view to 
this end. It is a welcome addition to the literature, by no means too abundant 
and often too jejune, for the use of the faithful during the month specially dedi- 
cated to Our Lady. There are thirty-one lessons derived from the history of the 
life of The Blessed Virgin, brief enough to meet the leisure of the busiest, and 
yet full of an unction and earnestness, of plain and homely lessons that can readily 
be absorbed into the practical life of the reader. 



848 NEW PUBLICATIONS. [Sept., 1889. 

BOOKS RECEIVED. 
Mention of books in this place does not preclude extended notice in subsequent numbers. 

DEPENDENCE ; OR, THE INSECURITY OF THE ANGLICAN POSITION. By Rev. Luke 
Rivington, M.A. Magdalen College, Oxford. London: Kegan Paul, Trench & Co. 
(For sale by the Catholic Publication Society Co., New York.) 

MORES CATHOLICI ; OR, AGES OF FAITH. By Kenelm H. Digby. Vol. II., containing 
Books V. and VI. New York: P. O'Shea. 

REVISED AND AMENDED RULES OF PRACTICE IN CASES AND PROCEEDINGS BEFORE 
THE INTER-STATE COMMERCE COMMISSION. Adopted June 8, 1889. Washington : 
Government Printing-Office. 

THE RAND-MCNALLY OFFICIAL RAILWAY GUIDE AND HAND-BOOK. Chicago : The 
American Railway Guide Co. 

PAGES CHOISIES DES MEMOIRES DU Due DE SAINT-SIMON. Edited and annotated by 
A. N. Van Daell. Boston : Ginn & Co. 

THE SERMON BIBLE. Vol. III. From Psalm Ixxvii. to Song of Solomon. New York : 
A. C. Armstrong & Son. 

TEMPERANCE SONGS AND LYRICS. By the Rev. J. Casey, P.P., author of " Intemperance," 
"Our Thirst for Drink," etc. Second edition, revised and enlarged. Dublin: Jas. Duffy 
&Co. 

Is ONE RELIGION AS GOOD AS ANOTHER ? By the Rev. John MacLaughlin. London : 
Burns & Gates. 

THE SALT CELLARS. Being a Collection of Proverbs, together with homely notes thereon. 
By C. H. Spurgeon. New York : A. C. Armstrong & Son. 

THE PARNELL MOVEMENT. With a sketch of Irish Parties since 1843. With an addition 
containing a full account of the great Trial instigated by the London Times, and giving a 
complete history of the Home Rule struggle from its inception to the suicide of Pigott. 
By T. P. O'Connor, M.P. Authorized version. New York, Cincinnati, and Chicago : 
Benziger Bros. 



i 









AP 

2 

G3 



The Catholic world 



PLEASE DO NOT REMOVE 
CARDS OR SLIPS FROM THIS POCKET 

UNIVERSITY OF TORONTO LIBRARY