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Catholic world
Paulist Fathers, Making of America Project
(i.?z3"^
fk r », Y , p r\ o
JIarbarli College 2.ttirars
FROM TH£ BEQJj'BST OT
JAMES WALKER, D.D., LL.D.,
(Class of 18x4),
FORMER PRESIDENT OF HARVARD COLLEGE;
" Preference being given to works in the
Intellectual and Moral Sciences."
^jf (^. I&f^'Ai. %I. /^A.
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THE
CATHOLIC WORLD.
MONTHLY MAGAZINE
OF
General Literature and Science.
vol.. LXVI.
OCTOBER, 1897, TO MARCH, 1898.
NEW YORK :
THE OFFICE OF THE CATHOLIC WORLD,
120 West 60th Street.
1898.
Digitized by VjOOQLC
I r /
c?i:5.:i
Copyright, 1897, by The Missionary Society of St. Paul
THE Apostle in the State of New York.
The Columbus Press, 120 West 60th St., New York.
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CONTENTS.
Allen, Right Rev. Edward P., D.D.,
Bishop of Mobile, {Frontispiece,^
America as seen from Abroad. — Most
Rev, John J, Keane^ Archbishop of
Damascus, 721
American Artists in Paris. {^Illus-
trated.) — E. L, Goody . . . 453
Ancestor-Worship the Origin of Reli-
gion. — Rev, George McDermot,
C.S.P.y ao
Ancient Rome, The Ruins and' Excava-
tions of. — Rev, George McDermot,
C.S,P, 465
Anglican Orders, Since the Condemna-
tion of. — Rev. Luke Rivington^
D.D., 367
Aubrey de Vere, The Recollections of.
{Portrait.)— I, A. Taylor, . .621
Be ye Cultured. — Anthony Yorke, . . 188
Bible Student came to be a Catholic,
How a. — Rev. R, Richardson, , 82
Bonhomme, Pledges made at. — Sallie
Margaret O'Malley, . . . .548
Books Triumphant and Books Militant.
— Carina B. C. Eaglesfieldy , . 340
Bosnian Moslem at Prayer, A,
{^Frontispiece.)
Catholic Authors, Authentic Sketches
of Living, 135, 281, 421, 571
Catholic Exiles in Siberia, The Hard-
ships of. {^Illustrated,) — A. M.
Clarke, 528
Catho4ic Men of Science, Living, 714, 856
, Catholicity in the West. — Lelia Hardin
Bugg, 302
, Catholic Life in Washington. {Illus-
trated.)^Mary T. Waggaman, . 821
Child-Study Congress, The. . . . 689
Christmas Eves, Three. {Illustrated.)
— Agnes St. Clair, .... 475
Christmas Day in Dungar. — Dorothy
Gresham, 350
Christmas Eve, {Frontispiece.)
Christmas at St. Dunstan's. {Illus-
trated.)—Marion Ames Taggart, . 289
Church and Social Work, The. {Illus-
trated), 393
Church in Britain before the Coming of
St. Augustine, The. {Illustrated.)
— /. Arthur Floyd, . . , .173
Citizenship, Practical.— -^<?*^r/ J. Ma-
hon 434, 680
Colored People in Baltimore, Md.,
Twenty Years' Growth of the. —
Very Rev. John R. Slat tery, . , 519
Columbian Reading Union, The, 141, 284,
427, 575, 7191 860
Customs, Races, and Religions in the
Balkans. {Illustrated.) — E. M,
Lynch, 596
•* Democracy and Liberty" Reviewed.
— Hilaire Belloc, .... 105
Deshon, Very Rev. George, Superior-
General of the Paulists, {^Frontispiece,)
Disease in Modern Fiction. — J, J. Mor-
rissey A.M., M.D., , 240
Editorial Notes, 134, 279, 420, 570, 713, 855
Eliza Allen Starr, Poet, Artist, and
Teacher of Christian Art. {Por-
trait.)— Walter S. Clarke, . . 254
Evolution, The Hypothesis of. {Por-
traits.)— Willtam Seton, LL.D., . 198
'Famine in the Diamond Jubilee Year, 205
Father Salvator's Christmas. — Marga-
ret Kenna, . . . . . 364
Fiction against the Church, The Wea-
pon of. — Walter Lecky, . . .755
Flying Squad, The.— -(4 /y»Vj/, . .119
French Expedition to Ireland in 1798,
The. — Rev, George McDermot,
' C.S.P. 94
Fribourg Congress, The. — Rev. Edward
A. Pace, D.D., Ph.D., ... 261
Friendship, A YsXaX.— Grace Christmas, 156
Henryk Sienkiewicz, . . . , 652
•'I come," the New Year saith, ^'un-
« bid by Man," {Frontispiece.)
Indian Government and Silver, The, . 510
Infidelity, The ** Cui Bono?" of.— ^.
Oakey Hall, 505
Irish Cathedral, The True History of
an. {Illustrated), .... 636
Judgment Lilies, The. {Illustrated.)
— Margaret ICenna, .... 195
Lettice Lancaster's Son.— Charles A. L.
Morse, 662
Lying, The Art of. — Lelia H. Bugg, 109
Master William Silence," *'The Diary
of. — Rev. George McDermot,
C.S.P., 810
Napoleon, Unpublished Letters of. —
Rev, George McDermot, C.S.P, . 380
New-Englander, How shall we win the ?
—Rev. Arthur M. Clark, C.S.P, . 231
Noted Persons, Happy Marriages of. —
Frances Albert Doughty, . . . 587
Old Portsmouth, A Romance of. —
Charles A. L. Morse, . . . i
Padre Filippo's Madonna. — Margaret
Kenna, 748
Parisian Socialism, A Phase of. {Illus-
trated.)— A. I. Butterworth, . . 64
•'Patrick's Day in the Morning ^^—Doro^
thy Gresham, 766
Primacy of Jurisdiction, Dr. Benson
on the. — Rev. George McDermot,
C.S.P, 146
Remanded. — Rev. P. A. Sheehan, . . 437
Roman Sculptor and his Work : Cesare
Aureli, A. {Illustrated.)— Marie
Donegan Walsh, . . . -731
Savonarola — Monk, Patriot, Martyr.
{Portrait.)— F. M. Edselas, . . 487
Scourging and the Crowning with
Thorns in Art, The. {Illustrated.)
—Eliza Allen Starr, . . -795
'• Seeing the Editor."— ^ct/. Francis B.
Doheriy, 249
Shakespeare, Early Critics of. — Wil-
liam Henry Sheran, ... 74
Socialism, Altruism, and the Labor
Question.— -^«;. George McDermot,
C.S.P. 608
Spiritual Development vs. Materialism
and Socialism.— ^<?i/. Morgan M.
Sheedy, 577
Station Mass, The.— /)<7r<?///j^ Gresham, 615
Sunday-School, Work of the Laity in a.
— Montgomery Forbes, . . . 355
Superior-General' of the Paulists, The
New, 139
Talk about New Books, 122, 267, 406, 556,
699.839
Teachers' Institutes, National Catholic.
{Illustrated), 3^9
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IV
Contents.
Temperance Question, A Study of
the American — Rev, A. P. Doyle ^
C,S,P.y 786
♦•The Old Mountain." {Illustrated.)
—John Jerome Pooney^ . .212
Theosophy : Its Leaders and its Lead-
" ings. (^Illustrated.)— A. A. McGin-
iey, 34
Truth, A Lay Sermon on. — A Lawyer^ 29
Un Prltre Manqu6.— iPrt'. P, A. Shee-
han^ 52
Ursulines, Leaves from the Annals of
the. {Illustrated.)— Lydxa Sterling
Flintham^ 319
Visitandine of the Nineteenth Century,
A. {Portrait), , . . -773
POETRY,
Art. {Illustrated.)— Mary T. Wagga-
many 634
Autumn, The Miracle of. {Illustrated.)
— Charles Hanson Towne, . 33
Ave, Leo Pontifex ! {Portrait.) —
Teresa, 619
Century Plant in Bloom, To a. — Rev.
William P. Cantwell, . . 607
Christ in the Temple. {Illustrated.)—
John Joseph Motion,
Epiphany.— yiffjj/'i? Willis Brodhead,
464
509
782
Gethsemani. — Bert Mart el.
Immaculate Conception, The. {Illus-
trated.)- Rev. William P. Cantwell, 378
Ireland, Pictures of. — Joseph I. C
Clarke, 238
Judgment.— Azm^j Buckham, 145
Memento, Homo, quia Pulvis es, . 772
New Year Prayer, A. {Illustrated.)^
F. W. Grey,
New Year's Day. — Eleanor C. Donnelly,
Ordination, An. — Mary Isabel Cramsie,
Passion-Tree, The. {Illustrated),
Pure Soul, A. — Harrison Conrard,
Purple Aster, io8
Quid Sunt Plagae istae in medio
Manuum Tuarum ? {Illustrated.)
—F. W. Grey
Robert Emmet. {Portrait.)— /oh n /e-
rome Rooney,
Royal Messenger, TYit.— Charles Han-
son Towne,
Virgin's Robe, The.— Claude M. Girar-
deau,
Vis A mods. {Illustrated.) — Bert Mar-
tel, 301
518
474
104
783
747
808
92
433
405
NEW PUBLICATIONS.
Abb^ Demore's Treatise on True Polite-
ness, 418
Angels of the Battle-field, .705
Anglican Orders, Ten Years in, . . 129
Barbara Blomberg, . . .271
Benedictine Martyr in England, A : be-
ing the Life and Times of the Venera-
l)le Servant of God, Dom John Rob-
erts, O.S.B., 708
Beth Book, The, 560
Blessed Virgin, Illustrated Life of the, 710
Book of Books, The ; or, Divine Reve-
lation from Three Stand-points, . 419
;Brother Azarias : The Life Story of an
American Monk, 126
Buddhism and its Christian Critics, . 702
Canonical Procedure in Disciphnary
and Criminal Cases of Clerics, . . 712
Carmel : Its History and Spirit, . . 568
Catholic Church, A Short History of
the, 710
Chatelaine of the Roses, The, . . 844
Christian, The, 123
Christian Mission to the Great Mogul,
The First, 556
Church History, Studies in, . . 699
Convent School, A Famous, . 273
Conversions, and God's Ways and
Means in Them, 565
Commandments Explained according
to the Teaching and Doctrine of the
Catholic Church, The, . .275
Comm'entarium in Facultates Apostoli-
j£as concinnatum ab Antonio Konings,
C.SS.R., 133
43orleone, 562
Crimea, Memoirs of the, . . 272
Eucharistic Christ, The, . . . 274
Fugitives and other Poems, The, . .411
|i\story of England, «... 412
Iliad, Some Scenes from the, . 841
India : Sketch of the Madura Mission, . 851
Ireland, Beauties and Antiquities of, . 267
Isaiah : a Study of Chapters I.-XII., . 565
Jesus Christ, The Story of, . ... 564
Jewish History from Abraham to Our
Lord, Outlines of, ... . 567
Mary Aikenhead, Foundress of the Irish
Sisters of Charity, The Story of, . 276
Memoir of General Thomas Kilby Smith, 853
Monks of St. Benedict, English Black, 406
Moral Principles and Medical Practice, 410
Mosaics, 711
Notes on the Baptistery, . . . 851
Novelists, A Round Table of the Repre-
sentative Irish and English Catholic, 416
Obligation of Hearing Mass on Sundays
and Holydays^ The, .... 276
Our Country's History, First Lessons in, 273
Our Lady of America, .... 845
Our Own Will, 852
Passion Flowers, 850
Patrins, 268
Pessimist in Spain, With a, . . . 852
Pink Fairy Book, 415
Princess of the Moon, The, . . . ^07
Sermons for the Holydays and Feasts of
Our Lord, the Blessed Virgin, and the
Saints, 278
St. Anthony, 854
St. Augustine of Canterbury and his
Companions, 416
St. Ives, 706
Thomas Ruffin, 268
Thoughts and Theories of Life and
Education, 839
Varia, 4^3
Wayfaring Men, 847
Woman of Moods, A, . . . . 270
Woman, The Power of, ... 414
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VERY REV. GEORGE DESHON,
Elected Superior-General of the Paulists, September 9, 1897.
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THE
CATHOLIC WORLD.
Vol. LXVI. OCTOBER».j«97r^--.^ No. 391.
SEP ?5 13^7
A ROMANCE OF ^LD PORTSMQkfTH.
BY CHARLES A. L. MORSE.
OUNG Lcttice Jaffrcy was descend-
ing the broad staircase of her
father's mansion in Pleasant
Street, in the city of Portsmouth,
of his Britannic Majesty's New
England Colonies, one February
afternoon, in the year 1717, when
the sudden clang of a bell, buffeted
by the wind into strange muffled
bursts of sound, struck on her
ears. She paused upon the upper
landing of the stairs and listened, a finger pressed against her
red lips, her blue eyes widened in anxious questioning. The
alarm-bell might bear tidings of calamity on land or sea, and
the young girl listened with hushed breath to count the strokes.
But the wild wind so played with the bell's notes, now deaden-
ing them into silence, and again throwing them out crashingly
over the roofs of the towns in one long, jangling scream, that
the listening girl could make naught of their message. The
great wood-panelled hall ' was peculiarly sombre, in the pale
wintry light that filtered reluctantly through the small diamond-
shaped panes of greenish-hued glass filling the narrow windows
on each side of the oak entrance door, and Lettice tripped
swiftly down the stairs and across the polished, gleaming floor
with a little shudder. Pausing before a closed door midway of
the hall, she rapped gently. No response greeted her summon.*?.
Copyric:bt. Very Rev. A. F. Hewit. 1897.
VOL. LXVI. -I
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2 A Romance of Old Portsmouth. [Oct.,
She pressed the heavy brass latch and opened the door. The
room she entered was a long, high-ceiled apartment with broad,
low windows opening towards the south. The walls were
wainscoted with oak, and a huge mantel-shelf of wood stretched
its carved and fretted length above the fire-place. Two sides
of the room were lined with glazed book-cases full of thick
volumes bound in calf-skin, while from another wall looked
down the painted portraits of three generations of the house of
Jaffrey. Rigid gentlemen in wigs and ruffles were those dead-
and-gone Jafifreys, their painted effigies posing pompously before
a dull red curtain, or seated beside an open window through
which one glimpsed a view of Portsmouth harbor and ships at
anchor — reminders of the India trade in which the Jaffrey
wealth had been accumulated. Before the blazing logs in the
fire-place, an open book upon his knees, a decanter of good old
port by his side, dozed George Jaffrey the third, a thick-set, full-
lipped old gentleman, with a tendency towards excessive cor-
pulence, and the purplish red marks of a too great indulgence
in the pleasures of the table upon his face. His stout legs
were encased in black silk stockings and fine cloth knee-breeches.
His shoe-buckles were of silver, richly chased, and the ruffles
adorning his shirt-front and wrist-bands were of starched lace.
On his left hand was a ponderous signet-ring of beryl, en-
graved with the Jaffrey crest.
Lettice closed the door and stole across the quiet, fire-lit
room to her father's side. She looked down at him a moment
and then laid a slim white hand upon his shoulder. Her touch
aroused him and he opened his eyes sleepily, saying :
" Hey ? what ? Oh ! it is you, child. I must have lost myself
for a moment over my book. Hum ! "
He shook himself together and took a swallow of the wine.
It was one of Mr. Jaffrey's notions that he never fell asleep
over his book of an afternoon — he might possibly "lose him-
self " for an instant, but that was quite a distinct thing from
falling asleep. Lettice was entirely too familiar with the quick
Jaffrey temper to express her doUbts as to the difference
between sleeping and ** losing '* one's self. So she only smiled a
little behind his back as she answered :
" Yes. The fire makes one a bit drowsy — "
** Not drowsy, child ! " interrupted her father. " I was lost in
— in thought over my book.**
" Ah ! and that was it," replied the girl, with a saucy
puckering of her lips. " I am sorry, sir, that I broke in so rude-
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1 897-] A Romance of Old Portsmouth. 3
ly upon your thoughts. But the town-bell tolls right loudly
and I fear some evil menaces the place."
" So, so ! " exclaimed the man, leaning forward in his chair
and listening. " I hear nothing, Letty — your ears deceive you.'*
" No, father. The wind plays such mad pranks with the
bell that one can hear its sound but sadly in the hall and in
this room not at all/'
"Is't of evil on land or water?"
" That I cannot tell, sir — the wind's so fierce."
"Well, well. Whate'er it be, we need not fret. If 'twas
fire threatening my warehouse in the town, word of it would
be brought quickly enough to me ; and if 'tis a ship in distress
off Kittery Point, 'tis none of mine." With which comforting
reflection Mr. Jaffrey settled himself again in his chair and took
another sip of wine.
" But, father," persisted Lettice, " others may be in dire
distress even if your property is safe."
" Then let the lusty young men of Portsmouth to the rescue.
I'd do no good amongst them."
" But, sir, you have lusty men in your service ; and in truth
'twill look ill if our townsmen are in trouble, on land or sea, and
the house of Jaffrey does naught to aid them/*
•* God bless my soul ! but you've a glib tongue in your
head, child. Mayhap you're in the right, though. At any rate,
'twill not harm the lazy vagabonds who drowse in my kitchen
to bestir themselves a bit. Though, in truth, I think 'tis your
womanish curiosity prompts your pleading more than your love
for your fellows or your concern for the good repute of the
Jaff reys," cried her father, wagging his head knowingly. " How-
ever, have your will, child, and bid some of the men go learn
the cause for the alarm."
With a smile and a courtesy Lettice sped to give her orders,
and soon thereafter two grumbling, well-wrapped-up serving-
men were shuffling through the snow to the town-house.
The short winter afternoon dragged irritatingly for Lettice.
She strummed now and again upon her harpsichord (the only
one of those quavering instruments in Portsmouth save that
belonging to Lieutenant-governor Wentworth's daughter), and
worked fitfully at her tambour-frame, and wandered repeated-
ly to the windows to look out upon the white, silent street.
The alarm-bell ceased to toll shortly after the men's departure,
but the twilight settled down upon the town and had deepened
into darkness ere they returned. George Jaffrey and his
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4 A Romance of Old Portsmouth. [Oct.,
daughter wer^ at supper, with the heavy Jaffrey plate making
a brave show in the mellow candle-light, when the men came
back. Mr. Jaffrey had been fretting at their delay, as one of
them was accustomed to wait upon his master at table, and his
absence nettled the old man, as in fact did any change in the
solemnly correct routine of his daily life. A great stickler for
routine was George Jaffrey, as too had been his father and
grandfather before him, the latter of whom was the first George
of the name and one of the original settlers of. old "Strawberry
Bank." Orderliness had been worshipped by this worthy man
and his descendants as a sort of god — a fact which had had no
little to do with the steady growth of the Jaffrey fortune and
the Jaffrey name in the snug little, aristocratic, royalistic
colony. In the midst of her father's complainings, Lettice's
quick ears caught the crunch of feet upon the snow outside,
and then the house resounded with the thumping of the huge
iron knocker upon the outer door. Slipping from her chair,
the girl ran to the dining-room door and opened it. The sound
of men's voices in eager expostulation reached . her, and then
she heard old Deborah, who had opened the hall door, say:
" But I tell ye, ye can't come in. Whatever would the
master say? The impudence of you, to be sure! Get your big
foot away and let me shut the door."
Then a voice which Lettice recognized as that of good Dr.
Aldrich, the town's famous physiciai\, answered : " Stand aside,
wench, and cease your talk. I'll answer for the consequences
with your master. Where is he, then ? "
" Quick, father ! " cried Lettice, hurrying into the hall, where
she spied Dr. Aldrich in his cloak trying to force his way past
the stout Deborah, who guarded the open door with a deter-
mined clutch on both jambs, while behind the doctor huddled
a group of men supporting among them a muffled, tottering
figure.
" For the love of heaven," called Dr. Aldrich's deep bass,
as he caught sight of the girl's startled face — *' for the love of
heaven, Lettice, call this grim vixen away and let us come in
out of the cold. In truth, we've got a precious burden here
that needs warmth right sorely. Where's your father, lass?"
" Here," replied George Jaffrey, bustling out of the dining-
room, napkin in hand. " By the gods, doctor, a pretty row
you're raising at my door! Don't you know, man, this is a
gentleman's supper hour? Get your great back out of the door,
Deborah, and let me see what 'tis they have."
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1 897-] A Romance of Old Portsmouth. 5
Thus admonished, the stubborn Deborah drew to one side
and the doctor came stamping in.
"A poor fellow half-frozen by wind and brine, Master Jaf-
frey — that's what we have."
" Stop ! stop ! " shouted the master of the house. " This is
no inn. Take your pfatient to the Sign of the Earl of Halifax,
doctor. This is no vagrant's lodging-house, I tell you."
Master Jaffrey's word was law with a great number of the good
people of Portsmouth, and the men halted upon the threshold.
"Hoity-toity!" quoth Dr. Aldrich. "The Earl's Inn is
full; and even if 'twere not I'd not risk this poor fellow's life
carrying him so far. He's near to death as 'tis, and unless you've
enough of the milk of human kindness in your old veins to
succor him he may die in your door-yard. A pretty thing that
would be, to be sure!"
" Stuff and nonsense ! " retorted Jaffrey, growing purple.
" I'm not to be frightened by your old wives* tales, Aldrich.
Take him away — take him to your own house if the inn's full.
I'll have none of him here."
Lettice, who had been a wide-eyed spectator of this scene,
stole to her father's side and clasped his arm with one hand while
with the other she pointed to the wan, white face of the stranger.
" Look, father," she whispered, " surely that pale face gives
truth to the doctor's words. And, too, if I know aught of such
things, 'tis the face of a gentleman and no vagabond."
The old man glanced contemptuously at the muffled figure
in the doorway, and shook the girl's hand from his arm.
" Gentleman or no gentleman, he doesn't cross my threshold ! "
he cried.
But just then, the men in their confusion having separated
a little and loosened their hold upon him, the stranger swayed
suddenly and then lurched forward, falling prone upon the hall
floor and quite across the threshold. With a pitying cry Let-
tice sprang forward and knelt beside the fallen man, while even
her father was frightened into acquiescence, as the men lifted the
stranger from the floor to the hall settle and Deborah, at Dr.
Aldrich's command, hastened to light a fire and warm the
sheets in one of the bed-rooms of the house.
Two hours later the doctor descended from the second floor
and entered the library, where Lettice and her father sat wait-
ing for him. After sipping, with many an approving sigh of
contentment, the steaming rum-punch which the girl had brewed,
he proceeded to relate to George Jaffrey the incidents of the
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6 A Romance of Old Portsmouth. [Oct.,
afternoon. It was the not uncommon story of a ship wrecked
off the Isles of Shoals, and of the heroic efforts of the fisher-
men, aided by such of the Portsmouth men as could reach the
Isles in the heavy sea that was running, to rescue the ship's
men. So far as known they had rescued all of them, and they
were being housed by the fishermen at Newcastle — a little set-
tlement opposite Kittery Point, at the mouth of the Piscataqua
— all, that is, save the young man who now lay in George
Jaffrey's house. He being, according to Dr. Aldrich's notion,
in a more exhausted condition than the others and, more-
over, of evidently gentle blood and more delicate nature than
they, the doctor had feared to leave him to the rough hospi-
tality of the fishermen's cottages and had started to carry him
to his — the doctor's — home in Portsmouth. But the stranger
had grown weaker so rapidly that he dared not take him so
far as his own home, and had stopped at the Jaffrey mansion,
which was nearer the scene of the accident. " Knowing," con-
cluded the doctor, with a sly twinkle in his deep-set eyes, " that
George Jaffrey's door was quick to open to the sick and suffer-
ing, and emboldened to seek an entrance by the fact that two
of the Jaffrey serving-men had arrived at the beach with the
information that their master had sent them forth to offer that
aid which the house of Jaffrey had ever been glad to extend
to those in need."
At mention of the serving-men Mr. Jaffrey looked accusing-
ly at his daughter, as if to say, " This is your doing ! " and
Lettice had smiled back the answer that she was not conscious-
stricken if it was. Then, with directions for the care of the
sick man and prophesying that he would be all right in a day
or two. Dr. Aldrich stamped away into the night.
The doctor's prophecy, however, proved false, and for two
months the stranger lay ill of a fever in George Jaffrey's house.
Mr. Jaffrey, in spite of his selfishness and choler, was by birth
and breeding a gentleman, and once his unwelcome guest was
actually lodged under his roof, he was treated with kindest con-
sideration — a bit grumblingly for a time, but later with pom-
pous good will. This change in the host's temper was caused
by the discovery that Dr. Aldrich and Lettice had done wisely
in judging the stranger to be of gentle blood, a fact proved
easily enough by sundry papers which, with a considerable
amount of money and a fat little leather-covered book, had
been enclosed in a stout wallet fastened to his belt. His
name was Gerrard Lancaster, of the good old Lancashire family
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1897.] A Romance of Old Portsmouth. 7
of that name long settled in Maryland. He had been the only
passenger on the ship Albatross^ sailing from Boston to England,
and, driven out of its course, wrecked off Kittery Point. What
the nature of his mission might be in England, and why he
was travelling thither from Maryland by way of Boston, the
young man refrained from stating, until one day when he was
growing stronger and his host, in the course of conversation,
had recited with much solemn verbosity his own political creed.
Upon which Lancaster confessed that he had been involved,
on the loth of June preceding, in a demonstration at Annapo-
lis by some hot-headed youths in favor of the exiled House of
Stuart. It was the birthday of " James the Third " (as he called
the Pretender), and he and his companions had gained posses-
sion of the cannon of Annapolis and fired a salute in their
"rightful king's honor." Whereupon they were promptly ar-
rested by the Maryland authorities and thrown into prison.
Among his companions was a nephew of Charles Carroll, Lord
Baltimore's agent, and thanks to that gentleman's authority in
the colony they were released from confinement after a few
months, but he, as a supposed leader in the movement, was
advised to withdraw from Maryland for a time. So he had
shipped from St. Mary's with the friendly captain of a coasting
bark, and in due season had landed in Boston, whence he had
attempted to proceed to England, with the dire consequences
which his present kind host so well knew. All of which raised
the young man 'mightily in George Jaffrey's estimation, that
gentleman being a stout Jacobite and not at all, as he was
fond of saying, " one of your psalm-whining Puritan hypocrites
and regicides ; no, by the gods, sir ! the Jaffreys had always
been sound Church-of-England men and loyal subjects of the
legitimate King of England, and " — with a round oath — "so
was George Jaffrey the third."
All of this conversation was duly reported to Lettice. A
vehement little aristocrat was Miss Lettice, with extravagant
ideas of loyalty and a gentle pity for persons who were obliged
to struggle through life without the blessing of ** family " and
with the burden of vulgar Nonconformist religious views. De-
lighted that her instinctive opinion that Lancaster was a gen-
tleman should have proved a correct judgment and regarding
him as a martyr to the " sacred " cause of the Stuarts, the girl
awaited with impatience his recovery ; paying, meantime, deli-
cate attention to his presence under her father's roof by daily
inquiries at his bed-room door of the now devoted Deborah
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8 A Romance of Old Portsmouth, [Oct.,
concerning her patient's health, and leaving with that grimly
faithful attendant sundry dainty dishes concocted by her own
deft hands, together with such stray volumes of poetry and old-
fashioned romance from her father's library as she fancied might
interest a sick and loyal subject of " King *' James the Third.
At last, one fair April day. Dr. Aldrich pronounced his
patient able to descend to the lower floor and enjoy the society
of Mr. Jaffrey and his daughter for a few hours. Great, indeed,
was the polishing of mirror-like floors, the scouring of already
shining brass, and the keen-eyed hunting of imaginary dust-specks
that went on that morning under Lettice's imperious supervision.
It was afternoon when Lancaster descended the stairs, sup-
ported carefully by the watchful Deborah, and was settled in
a great hooded chair in Mr. Jaffrey's library, smiling gratefully
at that gentleman's prodigious bustle of a welcome. The young
man noted with keen disappointment the absence of his host's
daughter, whose soft voice he had listened for right longingly
at his chamber door each morning of the past month. He was
asking anxiously for her when the door opened and she stood
before him.
A pretty picture was Lettice, in the doorway with the dark
hall looming at her back — a dainty figure in crimson padesoy,
the long, pointed bodice quite too snug and stiff, 1 fear, for
comfort, but giving its wearer a strangely trim and jaunty air,
while the full, wide-distended petticoat was short enough to
display two little feet encased in French shoes with preposter-
ously high heels and glittering paste buckles. Her fair hair,
piled high over a cushion, with a rebellious curl or two on either
temple, was partly covered by a large hood, like a Capuchin
monk's in shape, of blue cloth lined with crimson, from
the loose folds of which her young face looked out brightly,
with welcoming eyes and a tint of rose in her cheeks caused
by the fresh spring air of the out-door world from which she
was just come. In her hands she carried a bunch of trailing
arbutus, and to Lancaster its tender fragrance seemed to drift
about her like incense. In an instant the young man was upon
his feet, bowing low, while Lettice courtesied to the ground as
her father pronounced her name.
As the girl removed her hood and placed the flowers in
water she studied the invalid out of the corner of her eye, and
gave a little sigh of contentment when she decided he was all
such a hero should be in appearance — a dark, well-made
young fellow, with thick black hair rolled back over his fine
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1897.] A Romance of Old Portsmouth. 9
head, and tied with a ribbon above his collar. He was clad
in a suit of dark blue cloth, fashioned for him by a Portsmouth
tailor — an up-to-date tailor who produced the latest fashions for
the Portsmouth gentry only six months after their first ap-
pearance in London. The waistcoat of figured velvet reached
nearly to his knees, while the square-cut skirts of his coat dis-
played a reckless waste of material. His lace ruffles were full
and deep, and his buckles big and bright. Two points in par-
ticular Lettice noted ; that his eyes, which in her hurried view
the night of his arrival she had taken to be black, were in
fact dark blue and as clear as a child's, and that his brown
hands were the hands of a gentleman, strong and supple.
Afterwards, each afternoon found Lancaster snugly ensconced
by the library hearthstone with Lettice and her father, and
the latter gradually relapsed into his old habit and fell placid-
ly asleep in his chair, lulled, perhaps, to deeper slumber by the
soft murmur of the young people's voices. They talked of
many thingfs, and often the young man spoke of his Southern
home on the west shore of the beautiful Chesapeake Bay, and
of the neighboring planters and the gay doings of the gentry
thereabout; and of his sister Hilda, who was being educated in
the "old country," and whom he expected to bring home with
him when he should return to Maryland from England ; and
of his dear old father, Humphrey Lancaster, and of his mother —
of whom he spoke with hushed voice, for she had died five
years before. And Lettice, bending low over .her tambour-
frame, listened eloquently. Once she spoke of his imprison-
ment, and, turning her bright eyes to his, expressed her
admiration for his devotion to the " holy " cause of thfe Stuarts.
Lancaster laughed a little at her notion that he was a hero,
and had confessed quite frankly that he feared the firing of
the salute had been but the silly prank of hot-headed young
men a bit inflamed with wine, an act that could have done no
good to the Stuarts and which had brought needless trouble
and sorrow to his dear old father. And George Jaflrey, awaken-
ing just then, had loudly affirmed his belief that it was a noble
thing always and under all circumstances to protest against the
miserable German usurper whom a set of rascally Whigs had
thrust upon the English throne ; and as for him, he only
wished he was young enough to offer his sword and life to
his majesty. King James the Third — even though they did say
that gentleman was a Papist, a sad thing to say of an English
king. Upon which Lancaster glanced quickly at Lettice and
her father, and then took to studying the fire with troubled
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lo A Romance of Old Portsmouth. [Oct.,
eyes. Finally, one day in May, Lancaster was strong enough
to venture out of doors, and, with Lettice by his side, wan-
dered away from the old gambrel-roofed house towards the
sea. They stood at length upon a little hillock and looked
eastward. Sky and water were serenely blue under the pale
Northern sun ; far away towards the east the blanched rocks
of the Isles of Shoals gleamed pearly white, and beyond
was the faint, ghostlike hint of a ship's sails outward bound.
They watched it with their hands shading their eyes until it
dropped from sight beneath the sea's rim. Then the young
man said :
" It reminds me that I too must soon be going. I have
already taxed too sorely your father's hospitality. I have been
very happy in your home, and I wish that I could thank you
both as I desire."
"We too have been happy," replied the girl. "We wish
no thanks. I — I shall be sorry when you go." Her voice
trembled a little, and Lancaster stooped and looked into her
face. Their eyes met for a moment, and the old story had
been told once more.
That night the girl slipped away and left Lancaster and
her father alone together. The young man told of his love
for Lettice, and asked her hand in marriage. George Jafifrey
was strenuous in declarations of astonishment and in objec-
tions, but in his talk there was, to the suitor's eager ears, an
undertone of something other than displeasure.
"Of course, sir," he replied to the old gentleman's remon-
strances, " my family is unknown to you, but there are many
of the first quality, of both birth and station, in my own colony
to vouch for me. And the Lancasters are no paupers, sir.
Your child's comfort will be assured in that way. We have
lands in plenty — although," he added with a sudden shadow in
his frank eyes, " we have been burdened these thirty years
with double taxes and divers unjust penalties."
"And why, pray?" demanded Jaffrey in amazement. "Law-
abiding folk are not used to such treatment."
" Not if the laws be just men's laws, sir," said Lancaster.
"But in my unhappy home, alas! there's but little justice for
those of my faith."
" Your faith ? " quoth the old man. " Surely, young man,
you are no dissenter — you, a gentleman born, and a loyal ad-
herent of King James the Third ? "
" No, sir ; I am no dissenter. My religion is the old reli-
gion of Englishmen — the religion of our rightful king."
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1 897-] A Romance of Old Portsmouth. u
" A Papist ? " cried George Jaffrey, starting to his feet.
" A Catholic,'* replied Lancaster with set lips.
" And you dare ask my daughter's hand ? You, a wander-
ing vagabond of a Papist, marry a Jaffrey?" shouted the now
enraged old man. "Out upon you! Marry her? No! I'd see
her in perdition first."
** I am no wandering vagabond, as you well know," replied
the young man, striving to speak calmly ; " as for my religion —
the Lancasters have been Catholics always, and with God's
help I'll not be the first apostate of the race. But I promise
you upon the honor of a gentleman that Lettice shall never
suffer from me or mine for religion's sake."
" That she shall not ; for by heaven she never will be
yours ! " cried Jaffrey. Then he broke forth into loud denuncia-
tions of his guest, calling him a liar and a deceiver and such
like names, and ordering him forthwith to leave his house.
And as Lancaster listened, with clenched hands and scornful
eyes, Lettice glided suddenly between him and her father.
" Father ! " she said, " you forget that he is yoar guest. I
pray you speak less cruelly."
" Do you know, girl, what he is ? A two-faced Papist, who
has crawled into my house to deceive you and me ! "
" I did not know it until your loud words reached me in
the hall," replied the girl, growing whiter and trembling a
little. "'Tis a sad thing, I know. But I think we should not
judge him fiercely for it; remember, sir, he has been so bred.
And he has not deceived us, for when the time came he
acknowledged his religion frankly."
" Hold your wheedling woman's tongue, so quick to make
excuses! Would you be pleased to marry this fine gentleman
of yours? Speak up and let us know; for by the Lord, if 'tis
so, then you and he go out from my roof to-night, and my
curse goes with you ! "
For a moment Lettice stood with her hands clasped tight
upon her bosom, looking with frightened eyes from one man
to the other; and then she turned toward her father, sobbing
wildly.
That night Lancaster left the Jaffrey house and went to
the Sign of the Earl of Halifax in the town, while Lettice cried
the brightness out of her young eyes, her head pillowed on old
Deborah's sympathetic breast. A week dragged slowly by, and
then one day to the young girl, listlessly dreaming in her
room, came Deborah, bustling mightily and saying, with much
mysterious wagging of her old head, that the wild-flowers in
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12 A Romance of Old Portsmouth. [Oct.,
the grove behind the house were simply crying for . some one
to pluck them, and Lettice, looking at the woman's significant
eyes, gfuessed her meaning and fled swiftly from the house.
Lancaster stood waiting for her in the grove. The place
was very still — a place of soft, violet shadows, streaked with
cool, green shafts of light from the sunbeams piercing the first
tender leaves of spring. Quickly the young man told her of
ineffectual efforts on his part the past week to weaken her
father's prejudice against him. His efforts proving fruitless, he
had at last begged Deborah to arrange a meeting for them.
Then with eager words he begged the girl to brave her father's
wrath and marry him. But Lettice, with white face and
mourning eyes, said " No ! " A girl's first duty was to obey
her father. She dared not brave his curse ; 'twould be an aw-
ful thing to do, and worse than awful when that curse was
brought down upon one in the name of religion.
"If only," she murmured wistfully, "your faith were other
than it is."
" Ah, dear one," he replied, '* you would not have me deny
what I know is the truth ? "
And Lettice, shuddering, sighed " No."
** But you do love me, Lettice ? "
" You know that, sir," she returned, flushing rosy red.
" Then promise me that you will wait until I return. For I
will return — it may be many months, but I shall come back.
I will return with proofs of my identity and of my family's
worth. Your father's objection must grow less if he knows
you arc true to me. In the end we must conquer. Will you
promise ? "
"Yes, I promise."
Suddenly the young man knelt and kissed her hand rever-
ently. Then rising, he gave to her the little book which he
had brought with him from the wreck.
" It was my mother's," he whispered ; " keep it for her sake
and mine, and sometimes read in it, I pray."
Another moment, and he was gone. That night Lettice
opened the book, and read upon the fly-leaf, in delicate, old-
fashioned writing, the words : " Barbara Gerrard, Saint Inigoes,
Maryland." She turned the leaf and looked curiously at the
title-page, upon which, in heavy, antique type, was printed
" The Imitation of Christ. Translated out of the Latin, and
printed at Douai, Anno Domini MDCLVI."
The months that followed were dreary months for the deso-
late girl, grown suddenly into a woman with grave eyes and
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I897-] A Romance of Old Portsmouth. 13
drooping mouth. But as the summer drifted into autumn a
subtile change came over her. At first her sorrow had been
demonstrative and she had wandered restlessly, aimlessly about
the old house, but now she was become strangely calm, and
her eyes had grown thoughtful, but with a questioning, half-
puzzled note in their depths. George Jaffrey viewed with com-
placency his daughter's calmness of manner ; her eyes he did
not notice, and was too dense to see their new look even if he
had. Her changed manner, he thought, could mean nothing
but a gradual forgetting of her insane infatuation for the
Maryland *' Papist," and he set himself to arranging a plan for
her future with a smug security which would have suffered a
rude shock could he have guessed the true cause of the girl's
growing calmness. The truth was that the old monk of St.
Agnes had spoken across the centuries to Lettice's torn heart
and brought peace to her soul. Day after day she had pored
over the words of ^ Kempis, until the divine message to tired
souls of the Imitation had entered her heart and strengthened
her spirit. But as she drank in the teachings of the marvellous
book, there gradually came to her the question that if such
were the books which " Papists " wrote and loved, then could
it be possible that. their religion was the horrible thing she had
been taught to think it ? This thought half terrified her, and
she strove to put it away, but could not, and the questioning
look in her clear eyes deepened and remained.
In November, when the bleak New England winter was
beginning to close in upon the old house and its silent inmates,
two incidents ruffled the sad monotony of Lettice's life. The
first was a letter to her from Lancaster under cover to Deborah.
It was written from Brussels, where, he wrote, he had gone to
get his sister, who had been there in the convent school of the
English Dominican nuns — a Catholic education in England
being impossible on account of the penal laws against the old
faith in force in that country. They were about leaving for
England, where they would be the guests of kinsmen in Lan-
cashire until such time as he could safely return to Maryland ;
a time, he hoped, which would be short, as he had heard from
his father that the feeling against the Jacobites was cooling, and
Governor Hart had himself hinted that by spring the excite-
ment would be blown over entirely and the ringleaders in the
foolish outbreak on the Pretender's birthday might return in
safety to the colony. Meantime he begged Lettice to be brave,
saying that by the end of the summer he would come again and
in due form demand her hand in marriage from her father once
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14 A Romance of Old Portsmouth. [Oct.,
more. Letters, he knew, were dangerous things for her to
receive, even under Deborah's name, and they must both be
brave and hold their hearts in such peace as the good God
n^ight grant them until he came. This letter, I suspect, Let-
tice cried over and kissed, and kept constantly about her
person.
The second incident followed quickly upon the heels of
this first one. It was nothing less than the announcement
by George Jaffrey that he had arranged a marriage for his
daughter. Lettice listened with fear and- horror as her father,
with much pompous dignity and loudness of voice, detailed
his plan. The man chosen by him was his sister's only son,
George Jaffrey Jeffries, a shifty-eyed, thin-lipped personage
for whom his uncle had hitherto expressed the profoundest
contempt and dislike, and the girl's horror was blended with
bewilderment at her father's choice. But the matter was,
in truth, easily explained. Mr. Jaffrey, like most fathers, had
remained blind to the fact that his child was grown into
young womanhood until the Marylander's suit had awakened
him to the knowledge of that fact. Fearing a repetition
of that, to him, unpleasant episode, and resolved at all hazards
to for ever block the way to a renewal of the " papist's " de-
mand for his daughter's hand, he had cast about for a suit-
able husband for her among their friends. With happy thought
he hit upon Jeffries, a young fellow half Jaffrey by blood,
possessed of a fair fortune, just graduated from Harvard College,
and above all a weak-willed creature who was safe to submit
unquestioningly to his father-in-law's dictation. One of the
crosses of George Jaffrey's life had been the fact that he was
the last male of his name, and when, upon questioning Jeffries,
he learned that that gentleman would have no manner of
objection to dropping his patronymic and becoming George
Jaffrey the fourth (in consideration of Lettice's hand and the
Jaffrey fortune), the old man mentally patted himself on the
back as a person of shrewdness and fine judgment, and lost no
time in acquainting his daughter of her sentence. That Lettice
forthwith refused flatly to accept that sentence as final, declar-
ing absolutely that she would not marry her cousin, disturbed
him not a whit. He was her father ; a father's word was law ;
she was a sentimental, undutiful child, but willy-nilly she was
to be the wife of George Jaffrey the fourth. The winter
dragged on without bringing to the unhappy Jaffrey household
any hint of a peaceable solution of the problem which con-
fronted them. Lettice remained firm in her refusal to recognize
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I897-] A Romance of Old Portsmouth. 15
her cousin as a prospective husband, while her father main-
tained doggedly his assumption that the marriage was to be
celebrated before another year was lapsed. Meantime the
object of their disagreement, divided between a wholesome fear
of Lettice's scornful eyes and a very decided hankering for the
Jaffrey estate, sustained as best he might the somewhat difficult
r6le of an affianced man whose bride-to-be recognized the fact
of his existence only to ignore it unyieldingly. At length, when
another spring was breaking into warmth and life, George
Jaflfrey, thinking the proper time was at hand, announced to
his daughter that she might make up her mind to wed her
cousin in St. John's Church within the month. Whereupon the
girl, grown white and stern, replied that while he might take
her by force to that sanctuary of the Church of England, no
power on earth could make her wed her cousin ; for at the
place in the ceremony where the clergyman should ask her if
she took George Jaffrey Jeffries to be her wedded husband she
would cry out a " no " so long and loud that the old rector
would dare not pronounce them man and wife. And her father,
looking into her wan young face, believed her words and said no
more, but grew sulkily severe towards her as the days lengthened,
while the girl, withdrawing more and more into the silent com-
panionship of k Kempis, prayed constantly that with the sum-
mer Lancaster might come and that with his coming strength
might be given her to do what should be right and just to all.
But before the summer came another cloud darkened her life
and set her plans adrift. Her father, called to England upon
urgent business, commanded her to get ready to accompany
him. In vain she plead to be left at home with faithful
Deborah. Mr. Jaffrey had a new plan for compassing his ends
with which the voyage to England promised to work well ;
besides, he suspected old Deborah's taci^ approval of his
daughter's course and was glad enough to separate them, a
'thing he would have accomplished by turning the old woman
from his door had he not realized how essential her services
were to his . well-ordered establishment. So with many tears
and with reiterated petitions to Deborah to explain to Lancaster
(should he appear in Portsmouth during the summer) how help-
less she had been to do otherwise, and penning a brief little
letter for delivery to him, Lettice prepared to do her father's
bidding. And one peaceful June day she left the old house
which had been the home of so much happiness and so much
trouble, and, clinging to Deborah's strong arm, went down to
her father's good ship Princess Anne^ lying to at Portsmouth dock.
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George Jaffrey was waiting for them, and beside him stood his
nephew. The startled, questioning look that passed between
the girl and her companion did not escape him. " Your cousin
goes with us,'* he said, frowning darkly. " Tis a long voyage
and he'll be good company for us both." And old Deborah
glared at him in reply over Lettice's shoulder as she folded
the girl in her arms in fond farewell, whispering to her to be
of good cheer and advising her, with sad vindictiveness I fear,
*' to shove that ugly, cringing Jeffries overboard if he gave her
any of his impudence."
For us, to whom a journey across the Atlantic is but a mat-
ter of six days of luxury and rest, it is difficult to realize what
that voyage meant to our great-grandfathers. Weeks of confine-
ment in narrow and uncomfortable quarters, at the mercy of
wind and wave, the dreary monotony of the journey was re^
lieved only by the sense of ever-present and unavoidable danger.
And to Lettice's fate was added the burden of the close and
never-to-be-avoided companionship of a sullen and estranged
father and of a distasteful and mercenary suitor. Intolerable
as was her position on shipboard, the girl dreaded with some-
thing akin to terror their arrival in England. Well-nigh before
they had lost sight of the American coast she had guessed her
father's intention in bringing Jeffries with them, and, having
little hope that Lancaster had not already returned to Mary-
land, her future was indeed dark to her young eyes.
At length one night, near the end of their journey, her father
dropped all disguise and told her plainly that with their land-
ing upon English soil the long-deferred wedding would take
place. He pictured in strong language her undutifulness and
his patience, dwelling long upon the advantages and suitable-
ness of a marriage with her cousin, and ending with the threat,
if she again defied his authority, to disown her and set her
adrift among strangers in a strange land. Lettice listened in
terror-stricken silence, too crushed to reply to him, and when*
he had finished she stole away to the ship's stern and stood
there silent, with dry eyes and cold, still hands. The night
was very calm ; the spangled, dark-blue vault of the sky above
her seemed strangely vast and awesome ; the black, writhing
waters beneath her, stretching away in the pale starlight
until lost in the mysterious shadows of the night, at once fas-
cinated and terrified her; the intense silence of a night at sea,
broken only by the stealthy wash of the water against the
ship's sides and the mournful creak of the rigging high above
her head, enfolded her like a soft, thick, stifling veil. For one
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wild, wretched moment she dreamed of slipping quietly over the
ship's rail into the beckoning sea, and then with sudden tears
she hid her face within her now hot hands and prayed.
A drizzling, drifting rain was falling when at last the Pr/«-
cess Anne completed her long journey and moored in the Avon
River just off Trail's whad, in the old town of Bristol. Her
three passengers were soon taken on board a rowboat and de-
posited safely upon the wharf, whence they passed to " The Mer-
maid," the famous water-side tavern of the place. The house
of Jaffrey was well known among the wharf-masters and impor-
ters of Bristol, and a word from Mr. Trail to the rubicund
landlord of " The Mermaid " secured for George Jaffrey and
his companions an amount of obsequious attention wonderful
to behold. .After a tremendous banging of doors and stamp-
ing of clattering pattens across the glistening flag-stones of the
inn-yard, the distinguished Americans were duly installed in the
best rooms of the house — rooms distinguished, after the fashion
of the day, by such fantastic titles as the " LHy *' or the ** Dol-
phin." George Jaffrey had business to transact with some of
the importers of the town, and, after informing his daughter
that next day they would proceed on their way to London,
where a certain event of great interest to her was to occur,
he went majestically forth, with his nephew in tow, deeming it
proper that that prospective inheritor of the Jaffrey fortune
should learn something of the Jaffrey business.
Left alone in the dark old inn, Lettice's forebodings of the
coming struggle in London quickly merged into absolute panic,
and she paced her room excitedly. Knowing only too well the
uselessness of appealing to her father to spare her the dishonor
of such a marriage as he proposed ; realizing that her cousin,
with all the cruelty of a petty soul intent upon accomplishing
its own selfish ends, would stoop to any infamy to gain pos-
session of the Jaffrey fortune, and fearing that Lancaster — her
only friend in all England — was already on the other side of
the Atlantic, her plight indeed seemed hopeless. As the long
English twilight began to steal into her room the feeling of
helpless isolation became unbearable to the young girl, and re-
membering the landlady's cozy nook off the public room down-
stairs, in which she had rested while her father had examined
critically the quarters assigned to his party by their loquacious
host, she resolved to go thither, desperate as she was for some
human companionship in her desolate mood. The low-ceiled,
oak-panelled room was empty when she opened the door and
VOL. LXVI.— 2
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1 8 A Romance of Old Portsmouth. [Oct.,
peered into its shadowy depths, save for the presence of a man
who loitered by one of the open windows looking out at the
sunset. His back was towards her, and she slipped quietly
across the silent room to the glass-enclosed corner which she
sought. That, too, was empty, and she heard the sharp chatter
of the landlady's voice in the kitchen at the rear, where, with
much berating of flurried maids, she superintended the prepara-
tion of the evening meal. The rain had ceased falling, and
Lettice's eyes travelled listlessly across the still wet and glisten-
ing cobble-stones of the street, passing thence to the shining
water of the Avon River, and then to the red western sky. She
wondered if perchance any other eyes looked out at that sun-
set splendor so full of fear as her's — if possibly any other soul
in Bristol dreaded the morrow, and in truth all future days, as
she dreaded them.
The solitary watcher in the outer room had seemed to her
to wear a melancholy air, and her weary mind went back to
him. She turned and looked towards his window, and as she
did so the man left his place and passed to the inn door. As
he lifted the latch he turned and looked idly back into the
room, the sunset light falling full upon his face, and suddenly
a strange, low cry — half sob, half articulate speech — startled the
silence.
In a moment the man had crossed the dim room and was
standing with bewildered eyes beside the half-fainting girl,
crying softly : " Lettice, Lettice, speak to me ! It is I — Ger-
rard."
Quickly then she told him of her coming to England, and
of the marriage which her father so stubbornly persisted in
forcing upon her, and of her terror and helplessness. And
Lancaster, listening with hushed breath, grew white and stern,
but with a glad light in his face as he guessed her constancy
to him. With rapid words he told her that he was just quitting
England for his home ; that already his sister was on shipboard,
and that he, led by some kind providence, had accompanied
the ship's captain to land for an hour or two before they sailed,
and had been loitering idly in the inn until the hour was come
for their return to the ship. Then eagerly he begged her to
go with them, saying that already Hilda knew of her and loved
her, and would be a sister to her during the long voyage, and
when at last they were come to Maryland they would be mar-
ried in his father's house and with his father's blessing, adding
gently, "And, Lettice, fear naught for religion's sake. I and
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mine are Catholics, but never, never shall you be made unhap-
py by that. And, dear one, when you know more of our faith,
you may, with God's help, see its truth."
And Lettice, looking up at him with her pure eyes, replied
simply : " I have read your mother's little book right diligently,
and, Gerrard, I would I knew more of the old faith."
" Then you will come ? " he whispered.
For what seemed to him like long, slow minutes the girl
stood silent, with her look fixed upon the fading sunset light.
He saw her lips move as though she prayed. And then she
turned and looked intently into his anxious eyes. With a sigh
like a tired child she held her hands towards him.
" May God have mercy on me if I am doing wrong!*' she
whispered. "Yes, I will go."
The next morning a sullenly furious man and his silent
companion journeyed eastward through the placid English coun-
tryside towards London. George Jaffrey had found, upon his
return to the inn, a little tear-stained, beseeching note from his
daughter, telling him that she was gone with Lancaster, beg-
ging for forgiveness, and praying him to write to her in Mary-
land. For a time the tavern had rung with the old man's
wrath. He had cursed everybody and everything, from Jeffries
to the landlady, and had declared by all the powers that he
would charter a ship and overtake the Maryland-bound vessel,
if he had to follow it across the Atlantic. But finally his rage
had worn him out and quiet had descended upon the Bristol
tavern. In the morning, however, his ill-humor again vented
itself, and his nephew was the victim of much abuse as they
journeyed Londonwards — abuse which that young man was able
to bear with considerable equanimity, since he shrewdly sur-
mised that by her flight his cousin had for ever forfeited all
claim upon her father's estate, and that he, George Jaffrey
Jeffries, was destined to succeed to that rich heritage as George
Jaffrey the fourth ; and he chuckled a little to himself in his
corner of their travelling. carriage at the thought of Lettice's
vain regret when she should realize that she was a pauper.
But, standing on the deck of the good ship Calvert^ with
her hand tight clasped in Hilda Lancaster's, Lettice, looking
towards the west and towards Maryland, dreamed of better
things than the money and lands and the rich India trade of
the house of Jaffrey.
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20 Ancestor- Worship the Origin of Religion. [Oct.,
ANCESTOR-WORSHIP THE ORIGIN OF RELIGION.
BY REV. GEORGE McDERMOT, C.S.P.
N its social side religion has been treated as a
branch of the science of anthropology ; and we
opine with very unsatisfactory results. We
share the objections of religious men to the
handling of man's relations with his Creator in
the same manner as the connection of physical phenomena or
the laws that govern the development of society would be
dealt with ; but, fortunately or unfortunately, nothing is sacred
in our time from the application of what are called scien-
tific methods. We think, then, that a word or two examining,
according to their own methods, the views of leading men
of science on the origin of religion may show that their views
cannot be deemed satisfactory.
In all that we purpose saying we put aside revelation as an
authority. We mean to treat the subject on the natural plane,
and if we refer to revelation at alJ, it will be only as an his-
torical fact, as an incident — like a war, or the promulgation
of a code, or any other influence that has affected the fortunes
of the race. In taking this course we are not prepared to
concede that an assumption is an established fact or an inviola-
ble law. We do not intend to concede that Christianity is only
fetichism professed by white men not yet intellectually free.
Until this is proved, we intend to retain our own opinion of
the origin and meaning of Christianity. The mere statement that
religion is a fungus grown on the old stem of ancestor-worship
has to be made clear before we acknowledge that millions of
men bore incredible hardships, faced dangers of every kind to
propagate their opinions, sealed their belief in them in their
blood, and did all this for a delusion.
The theory just mentioned has a plausible appearance.
Men have an affegtion for the memory of their dead. They
bury them with circumstances of respect. Time purifies and
elevates the sentiment into a worship. The grandfather becomes
a tutelary deity; later on, he is a national god wielding the
powers of nature, or delegating the control of them to subor-
dinates whom he has created for the purpose or raised from
humanity for the purpose. In this evolution we have four
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1 897-] Ancestor-Worship the Origin of Religion. 21
stages: first, the ancestor reverenced from affection; second,
made awful by time to the poor savages, helpless amid the forces
of nature and confronted by the great beasts of the early
earth; third, fetichism developing in the savage's employing
him to counteract the agencies of nature and the might of the
brutes ; fourth, animism, in the spirits created or elevated to
the tasks imposed upon them by the dead ancestor for his
naked descendant's benefit.
This is the evolution of religion presented by the intellec-
tual Titans of the nineteenth century. A vast collection of
experiences drawn from savage and semi-civilized peoples has
led them to this conclusion. We are not pressing our suspicion
that the old exploded theory, that the religion of civilized na-
tions was the product of priestcraft, helped them to reach this
conclusion. It is for the present sufficient to point out that
this genesis of religion effaces God as a reality while incon-
sistently making a belief in him a fundamental principle of
human nature. This extraordinary contradiction in the mem-
bers of the theory is obvious to every one except the philoso-
phers who propound it. It is not our business to reconcile a
universal belief in the existence of God with the denial of his
existence. Nothing will convince us that the external world
does not exist, even though Hume and Mill give very ingenious
reasons for denying its existence ; and, in a somewhat similar
manner, though Haeckel, Herbert Spencer, Huxley, Romanes,*
and, last and least, Mr. Grant Allen pooh-pooh religion as un-
worthy of an enlightened mind ; still the mind insists upon be-
lieving in the Object of religion. This, we think, is very impor-
tant and justifies us in assuming the attitude that, as religion
is in possession, it must be conclusively shown that there is no
warrant for it, that the reason revolts at it, that it degrades man
to the level of the savage, that it makes intellect sterile, that
owing to it the world has advanced with slow and difficult
steps, and that there will be no real progress until religion is
effaced from the life and the memory of mankind ; — all this, we
say, must be proved before we are called upon to surrender
God to the enemies of man. •
No ; we are not going to be deluded by clap-trap, under the
titles of freedom of opinion, boldness of inquiry, emancipated
thought and intellectual liberty, into accepting the dreary
♦ Romanes returned to a belief in God in his later years ; though at one time he stated his
disbelief with the passionate air of a zealot. We are not by any means sure that his disbelief
was genuine. Notwithstanding the recent admiration expressed for this gentleman's charac-
ter, we think he was not quite fair in his reports of the result of his observations.
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22 Ancestor-Worship the Origin of Religion. [Oct.,
negation which annihilates hope of immortal life in the world
to come and destroys social obligation, the very essence,
the bone and marrow, of our life on earth. It is singular, the
flippancy of those savants when they refer all the worships of
the world since the earliest times to ancestor-worship as their
source ! Various as the worships are in ceremony, inspiration,
moral content and history, our men of science, with a wave
of the hand and a supercilious lifting of the lip and eyebrow,
fling them back to the naked savage of ages ago, jabbering and
howling over the hole into which he has put his father. Chris-
tianity and fetichism have their common origin in this ; the only
difference is the stage of evolution each has reached. The
Christianity of the elect is the anthropoidal stage from which
the bathed, perfumed, sartorized, and barberized biped of no
feathers save his wife's, looks to heaven or to hell for the
call to become anthropical, to become a worshipper in the
temple of nature which is to be set up by the religion of
humanity.
As we have been saying, we require proof that Christianity
is a development of Mumbo-Jumboism, or Indian devil-worship,
or any kind of fetichism. We must again lay down, pace the
evolutionists, the position that in social forms evolution* may
mean change and not progress. We express no opinion con-
cerning physiological types ^ they are not in question. What we
say is, that when evolution is predicated of a social or intel-
lectual type, it may even express retrogression. It matters'
nothing that the etymology of the word seems against this ; we
have not invented it; the unrolling or unfolding of a social
type is often in the direction of decadence. The Roman Empire
was an evolution from the republic, the polytheism of Virgil is
not a higher religious fact than Homer's a thousand years be-
fore, but the continuum of evolution is found in the political
and religious facts named, all the same.*^
We require proof of the hypothesis that Christianity is such
a development as that mentioned above. Objections to the
divinity of its Founder and the practical attainment of the
morality of the GcApel are not- in point. The phenomenon is :
a creed and a worship such as that described in the Sacred
Books and the history of the Jewish people, culminating in the
world-wide Christian Church and its revolted sects, springing
from the clouded brain of a savage drawn in some unexplained
* We owe these two illustrations to Dr. Jevons's Introduction to the History of Religion^
but a multitude may be supplied by the reader himself.
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1 897-] Ancestor-Worship the Origin of Religion. 23
way to believe his grandfather was a god. We are in the do-
main of nature now. We stand on the same level as our ad-
versaries ; we say nothing of revelation ; we confine ourselves
to facts of the individual mind and facts of society. We have
the fact of the Christian Church and the antagonistic sects.
We have the hypothesis of the savage adoring his grandfather.
The hypothesis must explain all the facts of the development.
We must know how the savage came to worship his ancestor,
and why it was the ancestor was an atheist ; how the descen-
dant's positive belief in the supernatural came from the negative •
of the non-belief of his ancestor. This is the evolution we
want accounted for; of something from nothing, an evolution,
to use the jargon of Agnosticism, simply unthinkable, or, as
we should say, in defiance of the laws of thought. We must
have every step of the evolution explained. We must know
how the ancestor came upon the stage, and whence ; what were
his physical, mental, and moral qualities. We are not to be
deluded by an assumption of the infinitely potential influence
of time.
We state, in broader terms than we have yet used, the
method by which, according to our adversaries, a belief in the
supernatural has been evolved. In some way, as they explain
it, the first death in the family caused terror. Pathetic stories
are told of the effect produced on infant apes v/hcn they find
they can no longer arouse the attention of their mother. A
change which they cannot comprehend, and which at the same
time frightens them, has taken place. The primitive man, for
the first time face to face with death, experienced something
more than the fear of the infant ape ; he had the germs of the
mysterious, until then latent, and they unfolded themselves into'
awe of the dead as of something that went beyond him, in the
case of one who had hitherto been most closely associated with
his life. So extreme a change in a familiar object, a newness
of aspect so extreme, a condition at the opposite pole from his
experience, must have affected him as nothing had done before.
Whatever he did with the body — whether he ate it, after apply-
ing the comparative method, by which he arrived at the conclusion
that its lifelessness was like that of the animals he had killed, or
whether he buried it — the recollection of his previous terror was'
a fact stored away in his consciousness to be recalled in some
emergency. The first injury which after this he experienced
from conflict with an animal, or sustained from the action of
some force of nature, he attributed to the influence of his dead
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24 Ancestor- Worship the Origin of Religion. [Oct.,
father. It became necessary to propitiate this malignant spirit by
some kind of offerings and rites. In the next generation it seems
there was an advance, for not only was the dead man prayed
not to interrupt his descendant's action, but to aid it. He is
now a fetich that can work miracles by controlling the powers
of nature, so that we have the magic of rain-making, sunshine-
making. As the number of men increase, family invocation of
this spirit gives way to professional, and so the sorcerer appears
upon the scene. But at this stage primitive man began to con-
ceive all activity that affected him as endowed with a will like
his own ; so the world became peopled by spirits like his, but
with greater powers. The sorcerer gives way to the priest, the
fetich becomes an idol — that is, the dead ancestor becomes a
god — and at length the worship of the house becomes the reli-
gion of the district and the state. We omit totemism from
the stages of evolution, because it has been introduced by the
theorists very much as an after-thought. We shall consider it
in another article, where we hope to show that whatever it
may mean in a theory of religious evolution, it is apart from
and independent of ancestor-worship. We should like to have
some theory of the selection of crests: why had the proudest
house that ever lived a twig of broom as its cognizance, while
another house, not remarkable for reckless courage, has a lion ?
The humility of the Plantagenets and the boldness oi the How-
ards, as represented by their crests, strike us as the most refined
irony. What totemistic mystery is hidden in them in relation
to either family the savants should tell.
This is the account we have. We do not mean to trouble
ourselves with an analysis of the evolution as here stated,
though it can be distinctly proved that the fetich is a decadent
idol, and that the priest preceded the sorcerer, or, in other words,
that religion preceded magic. We are simply dealing with our
adversaries on their own ground, and combating them with
their own materials. We are not satisfied with the theory that
the process originated in fear. The experience of mankind is
in favor of the existence of family affection in savages, and
undoubtedly all the cults of which we have any knowledge ex-
hibit a veneration of the family dead. We should like to know
•why love of the dead should not be as manifest in the savage
standing by his parent's corpse as the dim sense of loss ex-
pressed in the lamentation of the infant ape. However, we
pass this by and examine the history of ancestor-worship as it
is presented by our opponents.
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i897«] Ancestor-Worship the Origin of Religion. 25
If the ancestor stepped out from an inferior type of life, he
was at one time an infant and must have differed from his
brothers and his cousins. How did he escape their jealousy in
his weaker infancy, his less hardy and resourceful childhood,
-with his greater susceptibility to physical pain superadded to a
monopoly of mental pain ? Where did he get his mate, as-
suming that he passed through these dangers? Suppose she
ivas an accidental differentiation, like himself passing through
the like ordeal, and that natural selection brought them to-
gether. Were they driven out from their simian tribe as out-
laws, to combat with the great beasts of the night of time, ages
and ages before the dawn of history ? What is their story? They
must have multiplied with rapidity in spite of everything, for
their descendants, whether savants or savages, are in every
quarter of the globe ; but we would fain know how the first
two guarded their offspring, what sent into the offspring a ten-
dency to worship their parents, what fashioned in the third
generation a cult out of this tendency, why the cult was
directed to the degraded grandfather rather than to the son,
-who was an improved type ; and why at all to beings more
degraded than themselves? These questions being hypotheti-
cally answered, we wish to *know why four thousand years have
not developed a similar cult among our simian cousins ? Until
all this is satisfactorily shown, we shall hold the opinion that
the theory of accidental veneration is physically improbable ;
and that this genesis of worship, this evolution of the idea of
God and our relations to him expressed by worship, is the
most absurd of all the stupidities of science.
It will appear from the foregoing that we could have rested
content with the suggestion that the assaults on religion im-
plied in the accounts of its origin criticised above are of no
solid character, only that we fear certain hypotheses of our ad-
versaries on the nature of religion in general, and inferences
from the rites and customs connected with worship to be found
at present in various parts of the globe, have made some kind
of lodgment in the minds of a considerable circle of readers to
whom novelty and a spurious science are attractions. On the
threshold such readers would reject the idea that religion in
some aspect is a fundamental principle of human nature, because
we are told that there are peoples or tribes so degraded as to
have no conception of a God ; that there are peoples or tribes
who have an idea of something outside visible nature which
possesses a malignant power, the exercise of which is to be
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26 Ancestor-Worship the Origin of Religion. [Oct.,
deprecated. We do not think it is material to the argument
whether this is true or not. It must be borne in mind that
what our adversaries profess to do is to explain the origin of
religion, and this presupposes the existence of a fact called
religion. We are aware that there are religions of various
kinds over the globe ; and of no people of whom we have
read, in history or works of travel and discovery, has it been
said that they had no relation of any kind with the unseen
world of spirits exercising* an influence on this. Devil-
worshippers, if there have been any such persons, suit our
purpose as well as any others when ^hey are taken along
with the worship of piety so universally found in time and
place.
But the truth is, the notion that any people exists which
is without some idea of God and some mode of expressing
it, has been for some time exploded. It would not advance
the theory of our adversaries one hair's-breadth if such a
people were found, but such a people has not been found ;
and the contrary notion is grounded on one of those so-called
facts directed against belief in the principles and sanctions that
have done so much to mitigate the lot of mankind ; facts which
owe their authority to incomplete oBservation. In other words,
settled convictions, based on principles which have held the
moral elements of the world together since the earliest recorded
time, are expected to give way to data that fuller examination
may pronounce valueless. This has been the case so often
that we are justified, when we hear of a new theory that seems
to strike against some moral law or some fact of revelation, in
inquiring whether discovery has said the last word concerning
the material on which the theory rests. Now, if it happened
that a tribe existed which had no idea of a God and of religion,
it would seem that it had descended to a lower grade, the low-
est protably, instead of being on the road of ascent. At least
such a theory is the sounder one tried by the test of intelligible
explanation.
Any one can conceive that an isolated troop of nomad sav-
ages, degenerating from generation to generation, might lose all
recollection of the customs of a higher life. No one can un-
derstand how, if the whole of mankind were at one time in
the lowest scale, the idea of religion should spontaneously
spring up in all except that one. If the idea of religion has
not found its way from an external source, there is no con-
ceivable reason why such a troop should not possess it as well
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1 897'] Ancestor-Worship the Origin of Religion. 27
as the rest of the world. The quality of the religion is beside
the question. It is quite immaterial whether it was monotheism
or polytheism at first ; whether it was God conceived by the
pure intellect or an anthropomorphous deity, alone or with a
legion of subordinates to whom worship was offered through
the motives of hope and fear. The fact of such an idea of reli-
gion is the material thing. Does the idea exist practically in
the whole human race, and what is its source ? If the source
be external, one sees how it could be lost ; if it be not exter-
nal, one cannot understand how it could remain unevolved
at this advanced stage of the life of the race among the men
forming any social unit, however low in the scale of civiliza-
tion.
We are expressing no opinion concerning the source of
religion. We are told that it has been formed from within,
that it revealed itself in ancestor-worship, in animism, and what
not. If so, why are the degraded savages we suppose without
it ? It will not do to say that they stand in the exact position
of the ancestor first worshipped or of Mr. Spencer's fetich-
worshipper who chastises his god for not obeying him. There
must be some limit to the gestation of mental products ; we
cannot be for ever feeding on hypotheses. The evolution of
the capacity for god-creatipg, if there be such' a mental
growth at all, must have done something, in the long time
between the present godless savage we are supposing and
that ancestor who issued from an anthropoidal womb. But on
our assumption nothing has been done ; then has evolution
become sterile in this social unit? That cannot be, however,
for evolution is an inexorable law under which there is
no rest. The intellect can conceive a void, despite Mr.
Spencer's dogmatic decree that it is unthinkable ; but we admit
that the moment we fill it with the universe and its activities,
the mind refuses to believe in rest. Change is on everything,
and this is the same as to say there is nothing which is not
subject to the law of evolution. We are so far at one with our
adversaries, but that does not free them from the necessity of
accounting for the failure of the evolution of religion among
any section of the human race. As long as it could be main-
tained that there was such a section, they pointed to it as a
proof of their theory of the origin of religion. This theory, so
far as it is not a begging of the question, stands or falls with
the statement of the so-called fact ; while, on the other hand,
our position is unaffected by such casualties.
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28 Ancestor-Worship the Origin of Religion, [Oct.,
We have no theory on the subject ; we believe in divine
revelation, and deem the knowledge of our destiny derived from
it not only sufficient for the demands of our intellectual and
moral nature, but the only knowledge able to save from despair
in the future of the human race. The value of our opponents*
theory of moral and religious evolution may be easily tested by
a little introspection, coupled with our knowledge of societies in^
the highest conditions of civilization and much that we know
of in the life of our age. The most a Roman plutocrat could
hope for in the first century after our Lord's coming was an
intimation that the emperor permitted him to die. Let men
look into themselves and truly answer what stays their hand
when the bare bodkin is so near. Certainly, no phantasy of an
indefinite advancement of humanity, whose primal root is the
unconscious altruism of a savage barely distinguishable from the
ape he so much resembled in face and figure, and the wolf he
so much resembled in disposition. But, of course, the savage,
with his germinal altruism, is a hypothesis whose predicate, if
not by the very force of the words the direct denial of the
subject, is at least the denial of it, if there be one shred, one
particle of value in the experience of mankind. We hope to
return to this subject in a future number.
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i897-] A Lav Sermon on Truth. 29
A LAY SERMON ON TRUTH.
BY A LAWYER.
^N the course of the study and pursuit of truth,
and when we deem ourselves, perhaps, to have
entrenched our convictions by hard and patient
labor upon a solid ground-work of logic, learning,
and reflection, there comes at times such a sense
of utter inadequacy, imperfection, and indefiniteness in our con-
ception of the truth so long pursued, that we feel brought
back to the very starting-point — no more informed after all
than the least of our fellows; as though we had been merely
juggling with words all the time, and following an ignis fatuus
which mocks us at the last almost to scepticism and despair.
Courage, O lover of truth ! philosopher under whatever
designation you may otherwise be called. Truth is no deceiver,
and man is made for truth. Suddenly there will come a
moment when, quietly perhaps and silently, an overwhelming
realization will in turn seize upon you that you stand in
the very presence of the cherished truth.
The mind is quickened to a new faculty ; no longer a mere
ratiocination, but an intuition, so to speak, midway between
sight and faith ; a realization of a knowledge no more to be
eradicated, by which the exulting spirit exclaims: Inveni te —
at last I have found thee ; Scio cui credidi — now I know in what
I have believed.
Who can describe the intellectual joy of the experience
— ^the mental view, as from afar, of various results and conse-
quences of the truth acquired, its fitting place in the harmonies
and consistencies of other truths, its beauty and the admiration
and the love which it inspires ?
But if this be true in mere intellectual pursuits and re-
searches, as it has indeed been so repeatedly felt and expressed
by the investigators of the things of physical nature, what must
be the rapture and the consolation of a like sincerity and per-
severance in spiritual things, religious truths, the primary inter-
ests of the eternal and infinite Divinity?
Such an experience in physical matters has echoed down
the ages in the famous " Eureka ! " of Archimedes. We seem
to hear it now in all its exultation. In intellectual ones we are
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30 A Lav Sermon on Truth. [Oct.,
familiar with the rhapsodies of Plato ; and the illuminations of
St. Augustine treading the sea-shore come promptly to the mind.
Indeed, all searchers in one department or another of human
endeavor have become acquainted with phases of the fact which
it is sought here to imperfectly portray. God has not excluded
any steadfast inquirer after truth from the operation and the con-
solation of this inducing and loving dispensation of his provi-
dence. How many of us but could relate examples of such a feel-
ing in all sorts of .directions, and such a realization of some truths
" Which we cannot all express, yet cannot all conceal."
If, then, we reflect upon this assured and easily demonstrated
fact, how cavil at the relation of experiences so similar in
intrinsic principle, however higher or intenser in degree, which
we are told of by those spiritual searchers after truth — the
saints? Truly, so far from wondering at their ecstasies and rap-
tures, one can almost at the mention feel the necessity and
certainty of the result, and long, like Lazarus, for even the
crumbs that may fall from mere perusal. Here are searchers of
most honest purpose, of most persevering effort, with the utmost
singleness of will and purity of intention, seeking after the .
noblest truths — not seeking only with the mind but with the
will ; not simply in thought but in deed. All the thaumaturgies
recited of them are not equal to the thaumaturgy of their life
itself. What revelations of eternal truth, what apprehensions of
spiritual harmonies, what intuitions of the Divinity itself, must
necessarily have rewarded their aspirations and contemplations !
But, leaving this aside and returning to the more ordinary
and natural course of human experience, a lesson which im-
presses itself is the law and promise of intellectual endeavor
in the pursuit of truth ; the fact that we are born with fa-
culties inherently made to seek the truth ; and sincerely seek-
ing, to acquire it : homo capax veritatis. There is a natural re-
ward of intellectual exercise, a growth, power, and fruition, as
certain as that which comes from the exercise of the physical
faculties, cheering us on to its contests and its delights —
pleasure in the attempt, satisfaction in the outcome, if we be
both sincere and persevering.
Again, all of us, however humble, are called to the perform-
ance of this search ; and all, however modest, can realize some
of its siveets. Let, then, our homage be that of rational beings
— obsequium rationabile ; seeking in ^all humility doctrine in de-
votion, in practice, and perseverance.
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Lastly, we shall find that the distance between faith and
scepticism, under all its names and shades, is only a step ;
but what a chasm between! — the abyss between everything
and naught ; between the whole order of existence, life, light,
and love on the one hand, and primordial chaos, death, dark-
ness, and despair on the other ; between reason and unreason ;'
between faith and its negation. And this step depends in part
upon the honesty of the will and the exercise of faculties divine-
ly implanted in us, working from a native capacity of truth to
a natural result of faith, knowledge, and possession. To deny
it logically implies a negation not only of the Divinity, but of
ourselves, our nature, and everything else besides.
How wonderful, and yet how natural, are the effects of this
willing search of truth ; what horizons it opens up and spans ;
what fitnesses and coherencies it discloses; how it confirms,
comforts, and consoles ; and how it satisfies and reconciles the
littlenesses we may know with the great things we conceive!
And pursued to its complement and completion, how it brings
home solace to the heart as well as conviction to the mind,
rounding up every faculty, answering every need, and filling us
with the certainty of faith, the ardor of love, the joy of antici-
pated possession ! What more, O man ! wilt thou have in any
order of thy devising ? And with what counsel readvise the
Creator in " laying the foundation of things that are '* ?
What matter, then, the inadequacy, imperfectness, and in-
definiteness of human apprehensions and capacities ? Poor glow-
worms ! Are things less true, that we know not more of them
than we do ; or less sure our knowledge that they are, because
in the darkness we do not see all they are? Thankful in
the wondrous gift that we do see, happy in the sight as it is
given us to see ; assured that we shall see more as we strive ;
rather should we exclaim, with the same faith which brought
its sure reward : Domine ut videam — Lord, that I may see ;
Naverim ie — would that I may know thee more and more.
Let us, then, use the gifts made unto us, instead of cavilling
at their limitation and rejecting the testimony which they im-
port. Let us employ the talents that we possess. Freely and
confidently let us use and trust the sight by which we see and
the mind by which we know ; and through all the faculties
which we have received let in the light, and seek the truth and
deny it not. Seeking the truth and believing, we shall know
the truth, and the truth shall make us free.
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' Now WHEN THE AUTUMN GRIEVES.'
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I897-] The Miracle of Autumn. 33
THE MIRACLE OF AUTUMN.
BY CHARLES HANSON TOWNE.
HEN earth awoke in Spring-time and
the Jeavcs
Came one by one upon the naked
hill,
I said unto my heart, " Hush, and
be still ;
Winter hath fled, and lo! a spirit
weaves
A wondrous change." Now, when
the Autumn grieves.
And hushed is every woodland
stream and rill,
I marvel once again. The daffodil
Has vanished, leaving death and wasted sheaves.
The same high power that wroughtfthe change of Spring
Bids us behold this miracle. *Twas Love
That roused the world at^April's wakening,
And Love through Autumn's sorrow still doth. move.
Yea, He who gave the earth its springtide breath.
Gave also this — the mystery of death.
TOL. LXVI.— 3
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34 Theosophy: its Leaders and its Leadings. [Oct.
THEOSOPHY : ITS LEADERS AND ITS LEADINGS.
BY A. A. McGINLEY.
UR age has proved itself
an adept in many things
— though coming centur-
ies may prove it but a
tyro — but it does not seem
credible that it could be sur-
passed in its "way of saying
things." It is not with us
as it was with our fore-
fathers when a heresy was to
be refuted or a policy con-
demned ; that out from their
; musty storehouse must come
j the ponderous tomes of the
[ ancients, and forthwith must
be summoned a convocation
of scholars and sages to dis-
cuss and write out at length
the impeachment that the mul-
titude were waiting to accept
with respectful faith. In our
day the rise or fall of a creed,
the success or failure of a
party — religious, political, or social — may hang on some face-
tious phrase which has in an instant caught in crystallized form
the thoughts and feelings of millions ; while the origin of the
phrase may not so much as be asked about. It may have been
evolved from the fertile brain of a news-reporter, or caught in
a crowd from the lips of a street urchin.
And so it has come to be in this language-loving age that
the thing which " sounds well " need make no other effort to
get a hearing from the multitude ; only let it be careful that it
learn to manipulate the phraseology of the multitude cleverly
and pleasingly, and its success is assured, its standard is planted,
it gains followers that will swear themselves to rise or fall with
its cause.
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ITS PLAUSIBLE FACE.
Knowing with their highly developed intuitions this very
actual fact peculiar to our time, the astuteness of the modern
Theosophists in selecting the texts for the standard which they
carry might receive the same invidious compliment that the
Lord of the vineyard bestowed on the unjust steward for his
wisdom in making friends of the mammon of iniquity.
It would not do for the propagandist of the teachings of
Theosophy to put before the eyes of the uninitiated world some
of the astounding assertions that are made to those who, hav-
ing accepted its first plausible theories, are lured to penetrate
beyond into the inner circle of a teaching which may be termed
the accumulated sophistry of all the ages. So it joins its
voice in the psean that altruistic humanity is sending forth to-
day, and sings loud and long the refrain of the hymn which
has for its chorus " Liberty, Equality, and Fraternity," or
"Truth, Light, and Liberation for Discouraged Humanity." The
only conceivable object in life is to learn how to live. It picks
up the cant and the threadbare platitudes with which socialis-
tic madmen have fired the brain of the insensate multitude and
clothes them anew in the flowery garb of rhetoric, and sets
them up on high as messages of the deliverance it promises to
the race. With high-sounding words and bombastic expressions
it has paraphrased the sweet and simple language of the Ser-
mon on the Mount into the grandiloquent language of the nine-
teenth century altruist, and now proclaims that it has found,
or resuscitated, a doctrine far greater, better, and more divine
than that of the meek Nazarene, to whom it concedes an alle-
giance and respect no greater than it does to one of its made-
up Mahat;mas.
MAKING STEADY GAINS.
And yet it is winning followers. Steadily and confidently
its advance guard is marching forward, and at every proclama-
tion of its pretentious claims is gathering recruits to its stand-
ard, promising anything, everything that may tempt onward
aspiring humanity ; stealing from them the image of their Re-
deemer and pretending to offer themselves as redeemers in his
stead — and redeemers not for their souls alone, but for their
bodies and every ill which flesh is heir to. "They would give
their very lives," they declare, " if life might serve as redemption
for the poor, the outcast, and the vile. Into the blackness of
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36 Theosophy : ITS Leaders and its Leadings. [Oct..
darkness wherein humanity is submerged steps Theosophy once
more with word of hope, nay, of certainty of cure. It explains
the evils while it points the sure way of escape. With the
glorious truth of Reincarnation the good of every effort up-
ward stands unchallengeable, for every effort means one step
upward on the ladder up which our race is climbing. Theoso-
phy lifts the hopelessness from social conditions ; it shows the
way to perfect self-sacrifice; it teaches Reincarnation, Karma,
Brotherhood. These are some pf the reasons why you should
be a Theosophist."
ITS PRETENSIONS.
And what would the practical acceptation of its Reincarna-
tion, Karma, Brotherhood, mean to the world if Theosophy
realized its ambitions and persuaded humanity into this modern
fetichism ? There is not a vagary that the human mind can
conceive but it is possible to capture other human minds by
it. And so it is with this belief in reincarnation, conceived by
the vague fancies of man's intellect when the race was in its
primal stage and nature was so near to man that he endowed
it with his own life, thinking that in the clod of earth and the
brute that crouched at his feet, he recognized the same force
that stirred within himself, and not realizing in his yet unen-
lightened intellect the soul that made him master of creation.
How could humanity to-day accept a doctrine from which the
heart and mind revolts by every instinct of nature ? Think
of the mother bending for the first time over the babe of her
bosom, with her heart full of the sweet consciousness that it
is all her own, bone of her bone and flesh of her flesh, and
that its infant soul came as a fresh and pure breath of God,
and then remembering that it is, after all, only the Ego
of some soul that has been reborn again for the millionth
millionth time, perhaps; doomed once more to the travail of
the flesh ; stained with the sins and scarred by the errors of
numberless previous existences ; that though it is now clothed
in all the exquisite beauty of infantine nature, it had once per-
haps been encased in the form of a hideous monster or trodden
under foot as a reptile of the earth. And this is one of the
three truths with which Theosophy would redeem the world, and
the greatest of the three!
And Karma? What meaning does that word hold to the
Theosophist ? — a word which literally signifies action. It means
the power through which he manipulates hidden forces in na-
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ture and works his way outside the veil that hides the invisible,
and ventures into the unhallowed regions where man should
tremble to tread unless the Angel of God lead him by the
hand ; and sees visions and dreams dreams that sound, heal-
thy, normal human nature shrinks back from aghast.
These are the things which one finds within the veiled
Mrs. Katherine Tinoley, High-Priestess of Theosophy in America.
inner tabernacles of the temples of this ** Hidden Wisdom,"
when he has passed beyond the allurements of its outer courts.
No wonder the faces of its high-priestesses and ministers grow
dark and their eyes wear the look of those whose inner vision
is troubled by sights that are unwelcome to human kind.
Such are the pretensions of Theosophy, however. So much
has it assumed and assimilated to itself of the teachings and
principles of Christianity, that it might seem at first sight im-
possible to find a flaw in the stronghold behind which it has
entrenched itself. It has soared far above and away from the
reach of the arrows of controversy by accepting everything and
denying nothing, by having no dogmas to be attacked, no be-
liefs to profess, no church to defend, no party to support. ** It
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38 Theosophy : ITS Leaders and its Leadings. [Oct.,
takes no sides in the endless quarrels that rend society, and
embitter national, social, and personal life. It seeks to draw
no man away from his religion, but rather impels him to seek
in the depths of his own religion for the spiritual nourishment
he needs.*'* Thus does it address itself to the uninitiated, thus
does it make concessions to the liberalism of the day, and by
such pretensions does it win adherents to its theories. So colos-
sal is its belief in its own tremendous assertions that honest ar-
gument retreats in scorn and leaves as unanswerable a spiritual
egoism which is unimaginable to a practical mind.
Most theories that are born or " reincarnated " into our
modern world are, some time or other, put upon the witness
stand and made to suffer the quizzing of a curious public.
But Theosophy has so loftily pursued its way onward through
the crowd, and has played so much the will-o'-the-wisp among
the religions, that only those who have long since forsaken the
beaten paths of common sense in their religious beliefs find
time or pleasure to pursue its preternatural wanderings into
the domain beyond the material world.
MADAME BLAVATSKY, THE FOUNDER.
Modern or reincarnated Theosophy, as it is taught to-day by
the Theosophical Society, was born in New York in 1875.
Previous to that time its disciples or its teachers were almost
unknown to the Western world, or what is almost the same,
were not talked about either in the press or lecture-hall. Its
teaching had, of course, some secret followers among European
nations — the absurdly mystical society of the Rosicrucians in the
seventeenth century were followers of this teaching — but its un-
popular practices and extraordinary beliefs could not find a com-
fortable home within the pale of European civilization until the
last quarter of this century, which has, perhaps, witnessed more
incredible and widespread manifestations of the versatility of the
human mind in its acceptance and rejection of religious beliefs
than any century in the Christian era. However, in order to be
presentable to the practical modern mind, it would not do to
bring forward this " Wisdom Religion ** in its unfamiliar and un-
couth Eastern dress. It would not do to import in all his
native excellences one of its veiled prophets from the valleys
of Thibet. Its rebirth in Western form was realized through
the medium of Madame Helena Blavatsky, who, though repul-
sive to both the popular mind and the popular eye from her
♦ Introduction to Theosophy. By Annie Besant.
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1 897-] Theosophy : its Leaders and its Leadings. 39
Mme. Helena P. Blavatsky.
very unattractive personality and unlovely appearance, is de-
clared by her followers the high-priestess of Theosophy, and
described by them as one of " clean life, of open mind, a pure
heart, an eager intellect, an unveiled spiritual perception, a
brotherliness for all, a constant eye to the ideal of human
progress and perfection.*' The devotion and zeal of her fol-
lowers was, however, unable to shield her from the jibes of the
popular, materialistic mind. The enterprising modern reporter
found too good capital in her extraordinary manifestations of
the spirit world to let her escape from his clutches. Through
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40 Theosophy : ITS Leaders and its Leadings. [Oct.,
such a medium her philosophy, a strayling from the Orient,
would never have thriven in the hardy atmosphere of Western
civilization had not this unwieldy and ill-tempered Russian
mystic found a successor on whom to drop the mantle of
her esoteric wisdom ; one who had sufficient apprehension of
the religious characteristics of our day to present her phil-
osophy^ in a form that would be pleasing and welcome to the
popular mind. Such a disciple did Mme. Blavatsky find in
Mrs. Annie Besant — " one of the most remarkable English-
women of the apostolic type of this generation,*' some one has
said of her. She who was called at the time of her conversion
to Theosophy " the Saul of the materialistic platform " became
the leader, and has continued to be the exponent, of a spiritual
philosophy incomprehensible in its conceptions to a materialis-
tic mind.
ANNIE BESANT, THE APOSTLE.
The success of Theosophy, at least in our time, it does not
seem too much to say, is so centred around this one woman
that a study of her character and the peculiarity of her men-
tal and spiritual gifts and tendencies may in itself be a suffi-
cient index in tracing the causes which have led to the
development of Theosophic philosophy — a philosophy which has
so leaped over the barriers of orthodox Christian belief that
none of the ordinary methods of refutation of the latter seem
able to compass it or explain it.
Annie Besant is the living embodiment of that spirit which
broods over the face of the non-Catholic world to-day. The
history of her soul is an allegory of the birth, the develop-
ment, and the maturity of nineteenth-century Protestantism.
She once declared that "the deepest craving of her nature
was a longing to serve as a ransom for the race.*' Her life
may, indeed, prove a prophecy that will point the way to a
world gone astray and wandering from the fold of Christ. The
annals of religious biography do not contain a life-story more
touching, more full of heart-penetrating pathos, than hers.
She had a happy, healthy girlhood, spent in companionship
with her kind in an ideal home in Devonshire, England. No
morbid influences, no unhealthy associations either in childhood
or youth, can be discovered as responsible for the development
of her extraordinary tendencies towards occultism in her later
life. She had a nature so religious, a mind so orthodox in its
habits of thought, that those who knew her even in her days
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of professed atheism said that " it was the reh'giousness of her
irreligion that alone made the latter formidable." Her tem-
perament, although versatile, seemed well balanced and nor-
mal, there being blended in her nature the staidness of the
British on her father's side and an Irish emotionalism inherited
from her mother's side.
The perversion of her nature from Christianity may not be
accountable to any of the ordinary causes that first lead scep-
tical minds away from orthodox faith. She followed no calm,
logical course of reasoning in her progress from evangelical
Protestantism to infidelity. She had none of the traits of the
sceptic in her nature ; her mind and heart and soul were too
wide and deep for irreligiousness to fetter them within its nar-
row limits. There was not the pride of intellect in her which
made her scorn to conform to the outward religious symbolism
which she believed expressed an inward grace. She tried to
find satisfaction, and she did find some pleasure, though it was
short lived, in an adherence to and a practice of Anglicanism.
Before she had been led on thus far, she had sifted out for
herself the untenable teachings of her early evangelicanism from
the writings of the Fathers, and wrote that "the contrast be-
tween these and the doctrines of the primitive Christian Church
would have driven me over to Rome had it not been for the
proofs afforded by Pusey and his co-workers that the English
Church might be Catholic, although non-Roman. But for them
I should certainly have joined the Papal communion ; for, if
the church of the early centuries be compared with that of
Rome and Geneva, there is no doubt that Rome shows marks
of primitive Christianity of which Geneva is entirely devoid."
What comfort this anchorage to Pusey and his pseudo-Catholi-
cism proved to her in the supreme moment before she took
the final plunge into the blackness of unbelief and atheism is
recounted in a sketch of her at that time. *' There are few
pages in contemporaneous annals," says the writer, " more
touching, more simple, and more dramatic than those in which
Mrs. Besant tells of her pilgrimage to Oxford to Dr. Pusey, to
see whether, as a last forlorn hop«, the eminent leader of the
High-Church party might happily be able to save her from the
abyss. She recounts the comfortless interview, and adds :
'Slowly and sadly I took my way back to the railway station,
knowing that my last chance of escape had failed me.'"*
They were rather natural than supernatural causes which
* Would that her visit had been to Newman Instead of to Pusey !
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42 Theosophy : ITS Leaders and its Leadings. [Oct.,
were obviously the occasion of this unhappy condition of
her religious state. Out of loyalty to her church, and thinking
that through it she might satisfy her aspirations to devote her
life to the service of her Master and the poor whom he loved,
she consented to become the wife of one of the ministers of that
church, believing that in such a relation she would realize her
religious dreams more fully. "She could not be the Bride of
Heaven," as one of her biographers remarks laconically, and
therefore she became the wife of Rev. Frank Besant. " If she
had been a Catholic," this same writer declares, " she would
have become a nun and spent the rest of her days in ecstatic
devotion, finding all the consolation that worldly women find
in husband and lover in the mystic figure of the Crucified."
It seems that the mistake of her life was a proneness to
invest human nature with the divinity of the Christian ideal as
she conceived it, and towards which she herself aspired, and
then, after having deified human nature, to find that her idols
had feet of clay. She felt within herself the capacity for
illimitable ambition towards the attainment of this ideal, and a
burning desire to sacrifice herself and all things for it, and with
the humility of a great soul could not conceive that she was
singular among her fellows in the nobility of her purposes and
aims; that they were satisfied with a lower standard and she
was not ; that the erroneousness of their interpretation of the
Christian teaching was not manifest to their less spiritual and
less truth-loving natures as it was to hers.
The revolt of her intellect, heart, and soul against what
was incapable of satisfying them came at last, worked out
through a series of human experiences little short of a pro-
longed moral martyrdom.
DRIFTING INTO ATHEISM.
Suppressing the almost uncontrollable aspirations within her
for a spiritual food of which her narrow Protestantism was
barren, she fettered herself with the duties entailed upon her
by her position as wife of a vicar of a small Anglican commu-
nity, and struggled along with secret doubt and craving for the
light torturing her inmost soul. Down into the deepest depths
of spiritual darkness and horror was her spirit led, with no
hand stretched out to draw her back again to the Way, the
Truth, and the Life. Like one to whom a stone is cast when
hunger is gnawing at his vitals, they offered her the dry bones
of their false doctrines to nourish her starving soul.
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1897.] THEOSOPHY : ITS LEADERS AND ITS LEADINGS. 43
Her physical strength at last broke under the mighty stress
of her spirit in its vain struggles, and she was prostrated for
weeks in helpless sickness caused by the suffering of brain and
nerves for which no solace seemed to be had from human skill.
When nature struggled back again, and rest and sleep came to
her, she set herself to work once more in search of a way by
which to refute and conquer the temptation to unbelief that
was working such havoc in her soul. Hither and thither
she went, reading, conversing, searching for proofs upon which
to rebuild the basis of her faith, but came no nearer to the
central point than before. She tried to disengage her mind
from the ceaseless strife within her by occupying herself more
and more with the external works of charity which she found
at hand to do in her husband's parish. Once again her health
gave way. During a visit to London she met an exponent of
Theism who attracted her for awhile to that belief, which, how-
ever, gave her only temporary satisfaction. This led her to the
next step, the rejection of the beliefs of the Christian faith,
"all but one," says her biographer. "Not all her reading of
Theodore Parker and Francis Newman and Miss Cobbe had
been able to rob her of her faith in the Deity of Christ. She
clung to it all the more closely because it was the last, and to
her the dearest of all. She at first shrank from beginning an
inquiry the result of which might entail upon her, the wife of
a clergyman, the necessity of repudiating all pretence of be-
longing to the Christian Church. Hitherto her warfare had
been in secret, her suffering solely mental. But if this last doc-
trine were to go, 'to the inner would be added the outer war-
fare, and who could say how far this would carry me.* She
shivered for a moment on the brink and then took the plunge.*'*
HER YEARNING FOR A SOUL-SATISFYING SPIRITUALITY.
Then came the time of her real crucifixion of spirit. She
was given the choice between a life of professed hypocrisy by
remaining a member of the church of her husband and follow-
ing, externally at least, its formula and creed, or banishment
from home and children and friends. Could she accept the
latter, when to be even present at the administration of the
"Holy Communion overcame her with a deadly sickness," so
that she could not remain in the church ? Though at this time
but twenty-six, and inexperienced in any lines of professional
work through which she might earn a respectable living for
* William T, Stead in Review of Reviews^ December, 1891.
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44 Theosophy : ITS Leavers and its Leadings. [Oct.,
herself, she did
not hesitate to
face the world
alone with her
baby daughter,
whom the law had
permitted her the
custody of on her
separation from
her husband. She
^ took refuge with
her mother, be-
tween whom and
herself was a deep
; and tender attach-
' ment ; but the
t former dying soon
after this, she was
left again alone,
. r> rr^ severed from all
Annie Besant when she became a Theosophist.
human ties, with
a woman's heart full of a woman's yearning for trust and sym-
pathy and love with her fellow-creatures ; seeking and finding
no way through which to give expression to this yearning and
to satisfy the aspirations of her nature. It was during this
period of struggle
against actual poverty,
and even deprivation of
the necessaries of ex-
istence, that she learn-
ed her first lessons in
the Socialistic doctrine
of which she afterwards
became such a fierce
exponent. The cause
of humanity, as ex- .^ — v,
pounded by Socialism,
got into her head and f - ^,^^
affected her like new | */ .^t^^""'^^
wine. From one phase I / / /
of it to another she f ,i / .L^
was hurried on, until ' -.-- - - . ^._^ — ^-
an expressed advocacy annie besant tc-day.
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I897-] Theosophy : its Leaders and its Leadings. 45
of neo-Malthusian principles brought upon her a storm of pub-
lic censure which thrust her again outside the pale of popular
sympathy. She had got as far as Atheism, and had like-
wise become associated with Charles Bradlaugh in the ''sacred
cause " of free thought, as a lecturer and also as a writer on the
National Reformer. She had reached the farthermost limit of
unbelief ; the last vestige of faith in the supernatural had been
wrested from her. And yet, as she has since written of her-
self, at this time she did not say "There is no God," but she
felt that she herself was " without God." She could not con-
ceive him as the being whom she had to accept as manifested
in the doctrine and lives of those who had presented re-
ligion to her. She could not pray to such a one, as she would
not profess what her heart denied. But she said sadly of this
loss of faith in prayer : " God fades gradually out of the daily
life of those who never pray ; a God who is not a providence
is a superfluity. When from the heavens do not smile a lis-
tening Father it soon becomes an empty space, whence resounds
no echo of man's cry."
No wonder that a God-loving soul such as hers should be
thrown back again, as with the force of desperation, into a be-
lief in the supernatural which, though false and non-Christian
in its character, yet promulgates a philosophy which to her
seemed the full and sufficient answer to the materialism of the
day from which her intellect so strongly reacted, and which
teaches so zealously that love for her fellow-creature which
burned so strongly in her own heart.
In this new philosophy she seems to have reached the ulti-
matum of all her aspirations. She has brought into what was
nothing more than an esoteric system of belief, cultivated by a
few students of Eastern occultism, a spirit that has developed
in this system a life and a power which have produced, in a
decade of years, results that at most stand as evidence of the
natural tendency of the human heart towards belief in the
supernatural.
CHRIST IDEALS THE STRENGTH OF THEOSOPHY.
It is, however, not because of the extraordinary gifts with
which she seems to be endowed, according to the belief of her
followers, in acting as a medium between them and the " Great
Masters " whose teaching she imparts, that Annie Besant is to-
day the leader of this altogether too widespread religion. It is
because she has still innate within her the same desire to realize
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46 Theosophy : ITS Leaders and its Leadings. [Oct.,
the ideal for which she sought in vain in those first days of
her striving for the truth, and she has clothed the bare bones
of the old Theosophic teaching, which is no more than Bud-
dhism modernized, with the beauty of Christian truth and Chris-
tian ideals. It is not from the indefinable and unimaginable
spirits of the Theosophic heaven that she has learned those
lofty sentiments regarding the welfare of the human race. It is
because her life, as the life of every child of Adam who in
the darkness of its earthly pilgrimage cries out for the light,
has been touched by that " light that enlighteneth every man
who Cometh into the world." It is the Christian soul within her
that speaks ; her ideals are but the reflections caught from the
Christ ideal, her teachings but the borrowed sentiments of the
Gospel truths.
It would not have been possible for Annie Besant to have
diverged so far ffom Christianity if she had learned the alpha-
bet of its teachings more correctly in the beginning. What she
knows and has experienced of it, seems to have been made
up of a most incongruous mixture of Calvinistic and of Angli-
can doctrines. She aflfirms that "the theory of popular and
ecclesiastical Christianity (now being so rapidly outgrown) re-
gards mankind as a race essentially corrupt, cursed at its fall by
its incensed Creator, and thenceforth lying under the wrath of
God. In order that some of this race may be saved, God be-
comes incarnate, and, suffering in the place of man, redeems
him from the consequences of the fall."
It is easy to understand how the revulsion from such doc-
trines as total depravity and its corollaries would so react upon
such a nature as to bring her to the extreme view of the
Theosophic teaching, which regards "every man as a potential
Christ," that the " divine in man is an essential property, not an
external gift."
She goes on to argue that Theosophic teaching comes into
conflict with Christianity, because "if man's heart be naturally
corrupt, if that which is deepest in him be evil and not right-
eous, if he turn naturally towards the bad, and can with diffi-
culty only be turned towards the good, it seems reasonable to
allure him to the distasteful good with promises of future hap-
piness, and to scare him from fascinating bad with threats of
future pain. Whereas, if man's nature be essentially noble, and
even in its darkness seeks for light, and in its bondage yearns
for liberty, then all this coaxing with heaven and threatening
with hell becomes an irrelevant impertinence, for man's inner-
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1897.] THEOSOPHY : ITS LEADERS AND ITS LEADINGS. 47
most longing is then for purity and not for heavenly pleasure,
his innermost shrinking is from foulness and not from hellish
pain."* Herein has she defined the true Catholic doctrine, as in
the former definition she has given the perverted one as for-
mulated by Calvinism. "Well done, Luther,*' Father Hecker
used to say, " well and consistently done ; when you have pro-
claimed man totally depraved, you have properly made his reli-
gion a Cain-like flight from the face of his Maker and his kin-
dred by your doctrine of predestination."
" Existence cannot- be conceived otherwise than as good,
without outraging the divine perfections of the Creator," Father
Hecker wrote in his Aspirations of Nature. " To think of the
essence of our being, or existence, as wholly corrupt or evil,
or evil at all^ is to make God the authgr of that which is
contrary to his nature." Man is, and can but be, essentially
good; and the doctrine of essential or total depravity, taught
by Protestantism, makes God the author of evil.
"The corruption of human nature," says Bellarmine, "does
not come from the want of any natural gift, or from the acces-
sion of any evil quality, but simply from the loss of a super-
natural gift on account of Adam*s sin." All of which is the
drawing out of the teaching affirmed as de fide by the Council
of Trent, that the nature of man, body and soul, was not
poisoned, corrupted, depraved ; but was simply changed from
something better to something worse. " Secundum corpus et
animam in deterius commutatum fuisse." Deprived, to be sure,
of the gifts of original justice which were gratuitously super-
added to man's nature by a generous Creator, and in no sense
essential to it, so that in the fall man's nature was not left
totally depraved, but essentially good.
Oh ! the pity of it, that human souls so yearning for the
truth and essence of Christianity should try and try in vain to
slake their thirst at those streams from the fountain head which
have been fouled by the taint of heresy, and that they should
have drunk poison where they sought the waters of life !
ITS VOICE THE VOICE OF JACOB.
Whatever is admirable in Thepsophy can easily be paralleled
by something more admirable in Christianity. In fact, its most
attractive dress and its most winning ways are but the garb
and teachings of the lowly Nazarene.
In Mrs. Besant's definition of virtue the keynote of the
* Theosophy and Christianity. By Annie Besant.
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48 Theosophy : ITS Leaders and its Leadings. [Oct.,
Catholic spirit has been struck: ''It is not a blind submission
to an external law imposed upon man by an extra-cosmic
Deity ; it is the glad unfolding of the inner life in conscious
obedience to an internal impulse, which seeks expression in
the external life."
In the words of a Hindu, in his death agony, she thinks
she has found the highest expression of heroic virtue : " Virtue
is a service man owes himself ; and though there were no heaven
nor any God to rule the world, it were not less the binding
law of life. It is man's privilege to know^the right and to follow
it. Betray and persecute me, brother men ! Pour out your
rage on me, O malignant devils ! Smile or watch my agony
with cold disdain, ye blissful gods ! Earth, hell, heaven, com-
bine your might to crush me ! I will still hold fast by this
inheritance.'* *
" There," she exclaims, " speaks the heroic soul ! . and what
need has such a soul of promise of happiness in heaven, since
it seeks to do the right and not to enjoy ?" And has the
Christian struck no higher note than this in spiritual heroism ?
'* O Deus, ego amo Te ;
Nee amo Te ut salves me,
Aut quia non amantem Te
iEterno punis igne.
** Non ut in coelo salves me,
Aut ne aeternum damnes me,
Nee praemii ullius spe,
Sed sicut Tu amasti me." —
cried St. Francis Xavier; and in his cry he has uttered the
deepest, truest sentiments of the Christian heart : " My God, I
love thee ; not because I hope for heaven thereby, nor yet
because who love thee not are lost eternally ; not for the sake
of winning heaven, nor of escaping hell ; not for the hope of
gaining aught, nor seeking a reward ; but as thyself has loved
me, O ever-loving Lord ! "
AN OLD HERESY REVIVED.
Theosophy tries to prove the antiquity of its moral and
spiritual teaching, and to show that Christianity is but a new
expression of what long antedated Christianity and was mani-
fested in other religions as in Buddhism and Hinduism.
It is but a fresh form of an old heresy, a new weapon that
* Theosophy and Christianity. By Annie Besant.
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I897-] Theosophy : ITS Leaders and its Leadings. 49
Satan has employed to work against the spreading of the
kingdom of Christ and belief in his divinity. If the disciples
of Buddha or of Krishna realized in their lives the same teach-
ings which animate the Christian and lead him to heavenly
things, it was not because of Buddha or of Krishna but because
of Christ ! The Incarnation of the Son of God began in its
effect not on Calvary but in the soul of Adam, and the
merits of his Precious Blood belonged no less to the countless
millions who lived before his coming than to those who stood
beneath his cross.
The Buddhist in his devotion to ideals of purity and self-
sacrifice, the Hindu in his passion for heroism and suffering,
were but the manifestations of the essential good in man's
nature which was one day to be shown forth in full perfection
in the Christian ideal.
Theosophy has planted itself at the outposts, and as the
fragments from the wreck of Christian beliefs work their way
outside, it allures them within its exoteric temples with prom-
ises of making them disciples, and who knows but in time
Mahatmas, even the Great Teachers of its esoteric wisdom?
AND WHAT WILL BE THE END?
When it shall have led those who have sought refuge from
Protestant Christianity through its devious ways ; when it shall
have made them believe that they have passed through a
series of re-births for myriads of years ; that they have reached
a state beyond all desire ; " have entered and passed, by the
Path of Knowledge, to that lofty state wherein a soul serene
in its own strength, calm in its own wisdom, has stilled every
impulse of the senses, is absolutely master over every move-
ment of the mind, dwelling within the nine-gated city of its
abode, neither acting nor causing to act — a state of isola-
tion great in its power and its wisdom, great in its abso-
lute detachment from all that is transitory, and ready to
enter into Brahman; when even beyond this the soul passes,
by the Path of Devotion or of love, to the realization of
Brotherhood, above the state of isolation, to that of renun-
ciation wherein it has become even free from Karma — free
because it .desires nothing save to serve, save to help, save
to reach onward to union with its Lord, and outward to union
with men." * Ah I at the end of it all, note how the climax
reaches again, though led by false and unfamiliar ways, to
* Devotion and the Spiritual Life, By Annie Besant.
TOL. LXY.— 4
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so THEOSOPHY : ITS LEADERS AND ITS LEADINGS. ^Oct.,
nothing less and nothing more than that supreme aspiration of
the human heart — " union with its Lord " ; how naturally, how
almost inadvertently, do the very terms and common expres-
sions of the Christian lend themselves to voice the soul-yearning
of the creature for the Creator, of union with him. Yes ; but
not by the unnatural exercise of his faculties as taught by
Theosophy, not by the wrenching from their places in the
natural order of things the forces of nature to produce phe-
nomena revolting to the normal state of man.
From all this these perverted human souls will react, and
return again to tread the Christian road to God, when the mes-
sage of the world's salvation— ET INCARNATUS EST— ET HOMO
FACTUS EST — shall once more be accepted by them in the full
sense that the Catholic Church alone accepts it ; and in which
no creed, no church, no philosophy to-day accepts it ; that
truth which means no less than the bridging over of the
chasm between the Creator and the creature, the Infinite and
the finite, the hypostatic union of the Divine with the human ;
that union which had been in the view and purpose of God
from all eternity, and to effect which the Incarnation would
have taken place even had there been no fall of man, for
Christ would have come to us as our Brother, even had he not
come as our Redeemer.
Against belief in this, and to pervert and blind and deafen
man's consciousness of this, has Satan striven from the day
when the scofiing Jew passed under the cross and mockingly
bade Christ, if he be the Son of God, descend and save him-
self, unto these days of polished heresies under whose high-
sounding and pretentious praise of " the Christ " is no less hid-
den the scoff of Satan at Him who came to destroy his reign
over men's hearts and to therein establish his own kingdom.
But surely the malice of Christ's enemy has aimed a blow
more cutting than the buffet of the soldier's hand in the court
of Annas, when he has used woman's heart and brain to con-
ceive and propagate teachings which have as their conclusion
only another affront to the august divinity of the Son of God,
by presenting him merely as one among the leaders or founders
or exponents of the " Hidden Wisdom," which was conceived
as well by Krishna, Osiris, Confucius, or Buddha. Thus .does
it give expression to its blasphemy against the Son of God.
Buddha reposing in his harem, and the hideous idol of the
Hindu god, presents to the Theosophic mind objects as worthy
of esteem as the majestic form of the thorn-crowned Man of
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1897.] THEOSOPHY : ITS LEADERS AND ITS LEADINGS. 5 1
Sorrows. Surely Satan has accomplished the last insult which
in that day he failed to fling at Christ. He could not, so the
Gospel story proves, turn the heart and hand of woman against
Jesus from his cradle to his tomb.
** Not she with traiVrous kiss her Saviour stung^
Not she denied him with unholy tongue;
She, when Apostles shrank, could danger brave-
Last at his cross and earliest at his graved
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52 Un PrJ^tre ManquI. [Oct.,
UN prEtre manque.*
BY REV. p. A. SHEEHAN.
I.
E kept his school in a large town in the County
Waterford. His range of attainments was
limited ; but what he knew he knew well, and
could impart it to his pupils. He did his duty
conscientiously by constant, unremitting care, and
he emphasized his teachings by frequent appeals to the ferule.
However, on one day in midsummer it would be clearly seen
that all hostilities were suspended and a truce proclaimed.
This one day in each year was eagerly looked forward to by
the boys. The master would come in dressed in his Sunday
suit, with a white rose in his button-hole, and a smile — a deep,
broad, benevolent smile — on his lips, which, to preserve his
dignity, he would vainly try to conceal. No implement of
torture was visible on that day ; and the lessons were repeated,
not with the usual rigid formalism but in a perfunctory manner,
ad tempus terendum. Twelve o'clock struck, the master struck
the desk and cried :
" Donovan, take the wheelbarrow and bring down Master
Kevin's portmanteau from the station."
Then there was anarchy. Forms were upset, desks over-
turned, caps flung high as the rafters, and a yell, such as might
be given by Comanches around the stake, broke from three hun-
dred boys as they rushed pell-mell from the school. The master
would make a feeble effort at restoring order, but his pride in
his boy, coming home from Maynooth, stifled the habitual
tyranny which brooked no disobedience nor disorder. In two
long lines the boys, under the command of some natural leader,
would be drawn up in front of the school. In half an hour the
wheelbarrow and trunk would be rolled up the gravelled walk ;
then the expected hero would appear. One tremendous salvo
of cheers, and then a glorious holiday !
* There is no word in the English lang:uag:e to express the failure of a student who has
just put his foot within the precincts of the sanctuary, and been rejected. Up to quite a
recent period such an ill-fated youth was regarded by the Irish peasantry with a certain
amount of scorn, not unmingled with superstition. Happily, larger ideas are being developed
even on this subject ; and not many now believe that no good fortune can ever be the lot of
him who has made the gravest initial mistake of his life.
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II.
There was, however, amongst these young lads one to whom
the home-coming of the Maynooth student was of special
interest. He was a fair-haired, delicate boy, with large, wistful
blue eyes, that looked at you as if they saw something behind
and beyond you. He was a bit of a dreamer, too ; and when
the other lads were shouting at play, he went alone to some
copse or thicket, and with a book, or more often without one,
would sit and think, and look dreamily at floating clouds or
running stream, and then, with a sigh, go back to the weary
desk again. Now, he had one idol enshrined in the most sacred
recesses of his heart, and that was Kevin O'Donnell. It is
quite probable his worship commenced when he heard his
sisters at home discussing the merits of this young student in
that shy, haIf*affectionate, half-reverential manner in which
Irish girls were wont to speak of candidates for the priesthood.
And when he heard, around the winter fireside, stories of the
intellectual prowess of his hero, in that exaggerated fashion
which the imagination of the Irish people so much affects, he
worshipped in secret this "Star of the South," and made
desperate vows on sleepless nights to emulate and imitate him.
What, then, was his delight when, on one of these glorious
summer holidays, the tall, pale-faced student, " lean," like Dante,
" from much thought," came and invited all his friends to the
tea and music that were dispensed at the school-house on
Sunday evenings ; and when he turned round and, placing his
hand on the flaxen curls of the boy, said :
"And this Httle man must come too ; I insist on it."
Oh ! these glorious summer evenings, when the long yellow
streamers of the sun lit up the dingy school-house, and the
master, no longer the Rhadamanthus of the ruler and rattan,
but the magician and conjurer, drew the sweetest sounds from
the old violin, and the girls, in their Sunday dresses, swept
round in dizzy circles ; when the tea and lemonade, and
such fairy cakes went round, and the hero, in his long black
coat, came over and asked the child how he enjoyed him-
self, and the boy thought it was heaven, or at least the vestibule
and atrium thereof ! But even this fairy-land was nothing to
the home-coming, when the great tall student lifted the
sleepy boy on his shoulders, and wrapped him round against
the night air with the folds of his great Maynooth cloak, that
was clasped with brass chains that ran through lions' heads.
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54 UN PrI^tre Manque, [Oct.,
and took him out under the stars, and the warm summer air
played around them ; and in a delicious half-dream they went
home, and the child dreamt of fairy princesses and celestial
music, and all was incense and adulation before his idol and
prodigy. Ah ! the dreams of childhood. What a heaven they
would make this world, if only children could speak, and if only
their elders would listen !
So two or three years sped by, and then came a rude shock.
For one day in the early summer, the day on which the stu-
dents were expected home, and the boys were on the tiptoe
of expectation for their glorious holiday, a quiet, almost inau-
dible whisper went round that there was something wrong.
The master came into school in his ordinary dress ; there was no
rose in his button-hole ; he was quiet, painfully, pitifully quiet ;
he looked aged, and there were a few wrinkles round his mouth-
never seen before. A feeling of awe crept over the faces of the
boys. They feared to speak. The sight of the old man going
around listlessly, without a trace of the old fury, touched them
deeply. They would have preferred one of his furious explo-
sions of passion. Once in the morning he lifted the rattan to
a turbulent young ruffian, but, after swishing it in the air, he let
it fall, like one paralyzed, to the ground, and then he broke
the stick across his knees, and flung the fragments from the
window. The boys could have cried for him. He dismissed
them at twelve o'clock, and they dispersed. without a cheer.
What was it all ? Was Kevin dead ?
By-and-by, in whispers around the hearth, he heard that
Kevin was coming home no more. Some one whispered : " He
was expelled "; but this supposition was rejected angrily. " He
would never be priested,'* said another.
" Why ? "
" No one knows. The professors won't tell."
And some said they expected it all along ; ** these great
stars fall sometimes ; he was too proud and stuck-up, he wouldn't
spake to the common people — the ould neighbors." But in
most hearts there was genuine regret, and the deepest sympathy
for the poor father and mother, to whom this calamity meant
the deepest disgrace. They would never lift their heads again.
Often, for hours together, Kevin's mother would linger around
the fireside, receiving such sympathy as only Irish hearts can
give. Her moans sank deep into the soul of the listening
child.
'* Sure I thought that next Sunday I would see my poor
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boy in vestments at the altar of God, and then I could die
happy. Oh, wirra, wirra ! oh, Kevin ! Kevin ! what did you do ?
what did you at all, at all? When he was a little weeshy fel-
low he used to be playing at saying Mass — • Dominus vobis-
cum,' and his little sisters used to be serving. Once his father
beat him because he thought it wasn't right. And I said :
* Let the boy alone, James ; sure you don't know what God has
in store for him. Who knows but one day we'll be getting his
blessing.' Oh, my God, thy will be done ! "
" How do you know yet ? " the friends would say ; " perhaps
he's only gone to Dublin, and may be home to-morrow."
"Thank you kindly, ma'am, but no. Sure his father read
the letter for me. * Good-by, father,' it said, ' good-by, mother ;
you'll never see me again. But I've done nothing to dis-
grace ye. Would father let me see his face once more ?
I'll be passing by on the mail to-morrow on my way to
America.' "
"And did he go to see him?"
" Oh, . no ! he wouldn't. His heart was that black against
his son he swore he should never see his face again."
" Wisha, then," the women would say, " how proud he is !
What did the poor boy do ? I suppose he never made a mis-
take himself, indeed ! "
But the young girls kept silent. They had mutely taken
down the idol from their shrine, or rather drawn the dark veil
of pitying forgetfulness over it. A student refused orders was
something too terrible. The star had fallen in the sea.
His little friend, however, was loyal to the heart's core.
He knew that his hero had done no wrong. He was content
to wait and see him justified. He would have given anything
to have been able to say a parting word. If he had known
Kevin was passing by, shrouded in shame, he would have made
his way to the station and braved even the hissing engine, that
was always such a terror to him, to touch the hand of his
friend once more and assure him of his loyalty. He thought
with tears in his eyes of the lonely figure crossing the dread
Atlantic ; and his nurse was sure he was in for a fit of illness,
for the boy moaned in his sleep, and there were tears on his
cheeks at midnight.
But from that day his son's name never passed his father's
lips. He had passed in his own mind the cold, iron sentence :
"Non ragionam di lor."
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56 Un PrItre Manqu£. [Oct,
III.
The years sped on relentlessly. Never a word came from
the exiled student. In a few months the heart-broken mother
died. The great school passed into the hands of monks,
and the master, in his old age, had to open a little school in
the suburbs of the town. Families had been broken up and
dispersed, and event after event had obliterated every vestige
of the little tragedy, even to the names of the chief actors or
sufferers. But in the heart of the little boy, Kevin O'Donnell's
name was written in letters of fire and gold. His grateful mem-
ory held fast its hero. Then he, too, had to go to college —
and for the priesthood. On his very entrance into his diocesan
seminary he was asked his name and birthplace. When he
mentioned the latter a young professor exclaimed :
"Why, Kevin O'Donnell was from there!"
The boy nearly choked. A few weeks after, his heart in
his mouth, he timidly approached the professor, and asked :
" Did you know Kevin O'Donnell ? "
" Why, of course," said the priest ; " he was a class-fellow
of mine."
" What was — was — thought of him in Maynooth ? "
" Why, that he was the cleverest, ablest, jolliest, dearest
fellow that ever lived. You couldn't help loving him. He
swept the two soluses in his logic year, led his class up to the
second year's divinity, then fell away, but again came to the
front easily in his fourth. We used to say that he 'thought
in Greek.' "
" And why did he leave ? Why wasn't he ordained ? "
" Ah ! there's the mystery ; and it is a clever man that could
answer it. No one knows."
They became great friends by reason of this common love
for the disgraced student, and one evening in the early sum-
mer the professor told the boy all he knew. He had an atten-
tive listener. The conversation came around in this way.
Something in the air, or the glance of the sun, or some faint
perfume of hyacinth or early rose, awoke remembrances in the
mind of the boy, and he said, as they sat under some dwarfed
elms:
"This reminds me of Kevin and his holidays at home. The
same summer evening, the same sunlight — only a little faded
to me — the old school-room lighted up by the sunset, the little
musical parties, the young ladies in their white dresses, my
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1897.] UN PrAtre Manquj^. 57
head swimming round as they danced by in polka and schot-
tische— "
" Ha ! ■ ' said the professor. But, recovering himself, he
said hastily:
"Well, go on!"
" Oh, nothing more ! " said the boy ; " but my homeward
rides on Kevin's shoulders, and the long folds of his cloak
wrapped around me, and — and — how I worshipped him ! **
There was a pause, the professor looking very solemn and
thoughtful,
"But, father," said the boy, "you never told me. How did
it all happen ?"
"This way," said the professor, shaking himself from his
reverie. "You must know, at least you will know some time,
that there is in Maynooth one day — a day of general judgment,
a * Dies irae, dies ilia' — before which the terrors of Jehosaphat,
far away as they are, pale into utter insignificance. It is the
day of the * Order list ' — or, in plainer language, it is the dread
morning when those who are deemed worthy are called to Or-
ders, and those who are deemed unworthy are rejected. It
is a serious ordeal to all. Even the young logician, who is
going to be called to tonsure only, looks with fearful uncer-
tainty to his chances. It is always a stinging disgrace to be
set aside — or, in college slang, 'to be clipped.' But for
the fourth year's divine, who is finishing his course, it is the
last chance : and woe to him if he fails ! He goes out into the
world with the brand of shame upon him, and men augur no
good of his future. Now, our friend Kevin had been unmerci-
fully ' clipped * up to the last day. Why, we could not ascer-
tain. He was clever, too clever; he had no great faults of
character ; he was a little careful, perhaps foppish, in his dress ;
he affected a good deal of culture and politeness ; but, so far as
we could see, and students are the best judges, there was noth-
ing in his conduct or character to unfit him for the sacred of-
fice. But we don't know. There are no mistakes made in that
matter. Students who are unfit sometimes steal into the sanc-
tuary, but really fit and worthy students are never rejected.
There may be mistakes in selection ; there are none in rejection.
Well, the fateful morning came. We were all praying for poor
Kevin. The most impenetrable silence is kept by the profes-
sors on this matter. Neither by word nor sign could we guess
what chances he had ; and this added to our dread interest in
him. In fact, nothing else was talked of but Kevin's chances ;
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58 Un Pr&tre Manqu£, [Oct.,
and I remember how many and how diverse were the opinions
entertained about them. The bell rang, and we all trooped into
the Senior Prayer-Hall. We faced the altar — three hundred
and fifty anxious students, if I except the deacons and sub-
deacons, who, with their books — that is, their breviaries — under
their arms, looked jaunty enough, I was one of them, for I
was ordained deacon the previous year, and I was certain of
my call to priesthood ; but my heart was like lead. Kevin
walked in with me.
" ' Cheer up, old man,' I said ; ' I tell you it will be all
right. Come sit near me.' His face was ashen, his hands
cold and trembling. He picked up the end of his soutane, and
began to open and close the buttons nervously. The superi-
ors — four deans, the vice-president, and president — came in and
took their places in the gallery behind us, and at the end of
the hall. An awful silence filled the place. Then the presi-
dent began, after a brief formula, to call out rapidly in Latin
the names of those who were selected *' ad primam tonsuram."
He passed on to the porters, lectors, the acolytes, the exorcists.
Then came the higher orders, and hearts beat anxiously. But
this was rapidly over. Then came the solemn words : ' Ad
Presbyteratum.* Poor Kevin dropped his soutane, and closed
his hands tightly. My name was read out first in alphabetical
order. Kevin's name should come in between the names O'Con-
nor and Quinn. The president read rapidly down the list,
called :
Gulielmus O'Connor, Dunensis ;
Matthaeus Quinn, Midensis ;
and thus sentence was passed. Kevin was rejected ! I heard
him start, and draw in his breath rapidly two or three times.
I was afraid to look at him. The list was closed. The superiors
departed, apparently heedless of the dread desolation they had
caused ; for nothing is so remarkable in our colleges as the
apparent utter indifference of professors and superiors to the
feelings or interests of the students. I said 'apparent,' be-
cause, as a matter of fact, the keenest interest is felt in every
student from his entrance to his departure. He is not only
constantly under surveillance, but he is spoken of, canvassed,
his character, talents, habits, passed under survey by those
grave, solemn men, who preserve, in their intercourse with the
students, a sphinx-like silence and indifference, which to many
is painful and inexplicable. Well, the ordeal was over ; and we
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rose to depart. Then Kevin turned round and looked at me.
He smiled in a ghastly way, and said: 'This little tragedy is
over.' I said nothing. Words would have been mockery
under such a stunning blow. Nothing else was talked of in
the house for the remaining days. There was infinite sym-
pathy for poor Kevin, and even the superiors dropped the veil
of reserve and spoke kindly to him. It is customary to ask
some one of the superiors the cause of rejection. To keep
away from them savors of pride. Kevin went to the vice-
president, a kindly old man, and asked why he was deemed
unfit for orders. The old priest placed his hands on Kevin's
shoulders and said, through his tears :
"Nothing in particular, my dear, but some general want of
the ecclesiastical manner and spirit."
"I haven't been a hypocrite," replied Kevin; "I wore my
heart on my sleeve. Perhaps if — " he said no more.
The examinations were over. The day for the distribution
of prizes came on. The bishops assembled in the prayer-hall.
The list of prize-men was called. Kevin was first in theologfy,
first in Scripture, second in ecclesiastical history, first in
Hebrew. It was a ghastly farce. Kevin, of course, was not
there. Later in the day a deputation of the students of the
diocese waited on their bishop. It was a most unusual pro-
ceeding. They asked the bishop to ordain Kevin, in spite of
the adverse decision of the college authorities. They met under
the president's apartments. The bishop, grave and dignified,
listened with sympathy, and when their representations had
been made, he said he would consult the president. It was a
faint gleam of hope. They waited, Kevin in their midst, for
three-quarters of an hour, hoping, despairing, anxious. The
bishop came down. With infinite pity he looked at Kevin,
and said : " I am sorry, Mr. O'Donnell, I can do nothing for
you. I cannot contravene the will of the superiors." Then
the last hope fled. Next day Kevin was on his way to
America. That is all. You'll understand it better when you
go to Maynooth."
He did go in due time, and he understood the story better.
Like a careful dramatist, he went over scene after scene in the
college-life of Kevin. He found his desk, his cell; he sought
out every tradition in the college concerning him ; and that
college, completely sequestrated from the outer world as it is,
is very rich in traditions, and tenacious of them. He stood in
the wide porch under the president's apartments and pictured
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6o Un PrAtre Manque. [Oct.,
the scene of Kevin's final dismissal from the sacred ministry.
And the first time he sat in the prayer-hall, at the calling of
the Order list, although he himself was concerned, he forgot
everything but the picture of his hero, unnerved, despairing,
and saw his ghastly smile, and heard : " This little tragedy is
over." Once or twice he ventured to ask one of the deans
whether he had ever heard of Kevin O'Donnell, and what was
the secret of his rejection.
"Ah! yes, he knew him well. Clever, ambitious, rather
worldly-minded. Why was he finally thought unfit for orders?
Well, there were various opinions. But — no one knew."
It happened that one of the old men-servants knew Kevin
well.
" Mr. O'Donnell, of C ? A real gentleman. Wouldn't
ask you to clean his boots without giving you half-a-crown.
Heard he was a doctor, doing well ; was married, and had a
large family."
" You heard a lie," said the student, the strongest expres-
sion he had ever used. But the thing rankled in his heart.
Was his hero dethroned ? or was the veil drawn across the
shrine ? No ; but he had seen the feet of clay, under the
drapery of the beautiful statue. The Irish instinct cannot un-
derstand a married hero.
IV.
The years rolled by. Ah, those years, leaden-footed to the
hot wishes of youth, how swiftly, with all their clouds and
shadows, and all their misty, nimble radiances, they roll by
and break and dissolve into airy nothings against the azure of
eternity ! Our little hero-worshipper was a priest, and, after
some years, was appointed temporarily to a curacy in his native
parish. I am afraid he was sentimental, for he loved every
stone and tree and bush in the neighborhood. He lived in the
past. Here was the wall against which he had played ball —
the identical smooth stone, which he had to be so careful to
pick out ; here was the rough crease, where they had played
cricket ; here the little valleys where they rolled their marbles ;
here the tiny trout-stream, where they had fished. How small
it seems now ! What a broad, terrible river it was to the child
of thirty years ago ! But he loved to linger most of all around
the old school-house, to sit amongst the trees again, and to
call up all the radiant dreams that float through the "moon-
light of memory." Alas ! all, or nearly all, the companions of
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his childhood had fallen or fled. The few that remained he
interrogated often about the past. This, too, with them, was
fading into a soft dream. Their children were around their
knees, and life was terribly real to them.
One night, again in the soft summer, he was suddenly called
to the sick-bed of a dying woman. He hastily dressed and
went. The doctor was before him, but reverently made way.
" It will be slow, sir," he said, " and I must wait."
The young priest performed his sacred duties to the dying
woman, and then, out of sheer sympathy, he remained sitting
by the fire, chatting with the husband of the patient. It ap-
peared that the dispensary doctor was away on another call,
and they had taken the liberty to call in this strange doctor,
who had been only a few months in the country, and had
taken Rock Cottage for a few years. He was a tall, angular
man, his face almost concealed under a long, black beard,
streaked with white. He was a silent man, it appeared, but
very clever. The " head doctors *' in Cork couldn't hold a
candle to him. He would take no money. He was very good
to the poor. His name was Dr. Everard.
The young priest had seen him from time to time, but had
never spoken to him. Perhaps his curiosity was piqued to know
a little more of him ; perhaps he liked him for his kindness to
the. poor. At any rate, he would remain and walk home with
him. Late in the summer night, or rather, early in the summer
dawn, the doctor came out from the sick-room and asked for
water to wash his hands. He started at seeing the young priest
waiting; and the latter passed into the sick woman, who, now
relieved, looked pleased and thankful. He said a few kind words
and came out quickly. The doctor was just swinging on his
broad shoulders a heavy military cloak ; and the priest, lifting
his eyes, saw the same old lions' heads and the brass chain clasps
that he remembered so well in Kevin's cloak so many years ago.
" Our roads lead in the same direction," said the priest.
" May I accompany you ? "
" Certainly," said the doctor.
It was a lovely summer morning, dawn just breaking roseate
and clear, preluding a warm day. The birds were up and alert,
trying to get out all the day's programme of song and anthem
before the dread heat should drive them to shelter and silence.
The river rolled sluggishly along, thin and slow and underfed,
for the mountains were dry and barren and the fruitful clouds
were afar. No men were stirring. The shops were closely shut-
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62 UN PRI^TRE MANQU&. [Oct.,
tered ; but here and there a lamp, left lighted, looked sickly
in the clear dawn-light. Their footsteps rang hollow with
echoes along the street, and one or two dogs barked in muf-
fled anger as the steps smote on their ears. They had been
talking about many things, and the young priest had men-
tioned casually that this was his native place.
"And there's the very house I was born in." The doctor
stopped, and looked curiously at the shuttered house, as if re-
calling some memories. But he said nothing. At last they left
the town ; and the priest, rambling on about his reminiscences,
and the other listening attentively, they came at last opposite
the old school-house, and by some spontaneous impulse they
rested their arms on a rude gate and gazed towards it. Then
the young priest broke out into his old rhapsody about the
summer twilights, and the violin, and the merry dances of
the girls, and all those things round which, commonplace
though they may be, memory flings a nimbus of light that
spiritualizes and beautifies them. And then his own secret
hero-worship for the great Kevin, and the ride on his shoul-
ders home from the dance and the supper, and the great cloak
that enveloped him —
" Just like yours, with the same brass clasps and chains, that
jingled, oh ! such music in my memory."
The doctor listened gravely and attentively ; then asked :
"And what became of this wonderful Kevin?"
And he was told his history. And how the heart of one
faithful friend yearned after him in his shame, and believed in
him, and knew, by a secret but infallible instinct, that he was
true and good and faithful, although thrust from the sanctu-
ary in shame.
" We may meet yet," continued the young priest ; " of course
he could not remember me. But it was all sad, pitifully sad;
and I am sure he had grave trials and difficulties to overcome.
You know it is in moments of depression, rather than of exal-
tation, that the great temptations come."
" Good-night, or rather good-morning," said the doctor.
"What did you say your hero's name was? Kevin — I think — "
" Yes ; Kevin O'Donnell," said the priest.
V.
A few weeks after the doctor disappeared, and Rock Cot-
tage was closed again. Twelve months later the young priest
was dining with his bishop, and the latter asked him :
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1897O UN Pr£tre Manque. 63
" Did you ever hear of a Kevin O'Donnell, from your
town ? "
" Yes, of course, my lord. He was a Maynooth student
many years ago."
"Well, here is a letter from him, from Florence, asking his
exeat, in order that he may be ordained priest."
A rush of tumultuous delight flushed the cheeks of the
young priest, but he only said : " I knew 'twould come all right
in the end."
He went home. There was a letter on his desk. Florence
was the post-mark. With trembling fingers he read:
CeRTOSA, FiRENZE, July 12, 1 87-.
Friend and Child : You have saved a soul ! And it is
the soul of your early friend, Kevin. Embittered and disap-
pointed, I left Ireland many years ago. Not one kindly word
nor friendly grasp was with me in my farewell. I came back
to Ireland, successful as to worldly affairs, but bitter and angry
towards God and man. I had but one faith left — ^to do good
in a world where I had received naught but evil. Your faith
in me has revived my faith in God. I see now that we are in
his hands. If a little child could retain the memory of small
kindnesses for thirty years, can we think that the great All-
Father has forgotten ? You are puzzled ; you do not know me.
Well, I am the doctor with the great cloak, who accompanied
you from a sick-call some months ago. I did not know you.
I had forgotten your name. But while you spoke, and showed
me how great was your fidelity and love, my heart thawed. out
towards God and man. I left hurriedly and hastened here. I
am, thank God, a professed Carthusian, and the orders denied
me in Maynooth prayer-hall thirty years ago I shall receive
in a few days. Farewell, and thank God for a gentle heart.
You never know where its dews may fall, and bring to life the
withered grass or the faded flower.
Yours in Christ, Kevin O'Donnell,
{late Dr. Everard.)
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64 A Phase of Parisian Socialism. [Oct.,
A PHASE OF PARISIAN SOCIALISM.
BY A. I. BUTTERWORTH.
There are two sides to this beautiful city which many know
only as bright, sunny Paris ! The one I wish to show you, when
' ^ ' *^ ^ing.
this
;ery
od!
you
any
ere.
ose
pre-
aris
rely
me
in
xty
A Glimpse of Poorer Paris.
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A Phase of Parisian Socialism.
65
thousand individuals awake in the morning without knowing
how they are to find food, nor where they are to sleep at night.
Men and women flock he^-e from the provinces, as well as from
other countries — and how soon their little all is spent! Then
follows despair. Day after day work is sought in vain, and
many fall so low, especially the women, that nothing remains
for them but the prison of St. Lazare. Wishing to help these
poor creatures, some ladies conceived the idea of a home**where
all women who applied would
be received, and allo'w
remain, if well behave
three months, thus
them time to recuperati
strength.
A subscription was
a house hired, and th(
work put under the dii
of the nuns of Notre
du Calvaire, an order
cent date founded fa
Abb^ Bonhomme, at G
in 1833. Many hundr
outcasts come, either o
own accor4 or sent 1
police, who daily find y
in the streets completel;
come by hardship and f;
All receive a welcome
the superior of the he
Auteuil, and there
find a refuge until
a place is secured
for each, either as
servant, shop-girl, or
in whatever position '-.
It is thought the per-
son in question can - •«.
best fill. Five hun-
dred is the usual
number of inmates c
(not counting the
nuns), and of these
many have seen bet-
VQL. LXVI.— 5
An Old Hotel, Rue de Bucherie.
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66 A Phase of Parisian Socialism. [Oct.,
Hospitality de Nuit.— Men waiting Admission.
ter days. Teachers form no small proportion of those who ap-
ply for admittance, for they find it as difficult as any other class
to get employment. Young girls who have passed the higher ex-
aminations of the Hotel de Ville, and obtained their certificate,
after trying in vain for pupils either in schools or families, are of-
ten at last discouraged, and glad to find a shelter at the Hos-
pitalitL All of the women are expected to work. Those able
to sew are put in the work-rooms. But the greater number of
those who come are good only for the roughest work.' These
are employed in the wash-house, and in a short time become
capable laundresses. Linen is sent to this laundry from colleges,
convent schools, and private families. This is one of the sources
whence money is derived for the support of the house. A sub-
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o
X
H
<
r
c
X
o
n
as
sidy from the minister of the interior, another from the pre-
fecture of police, together with private contributions, help the
Hospitality to provide nourishing food for its inmates.
Upon entering the building you find on the right the wait-
ing-room, communicating with the parlor. On the table is the
book in which is registered the name, date of entrance, pro-
fession, and age of each person who comes to live in the
house. Every day this book is examined by an inspector sent
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68 A Phase of Parisian Socialism. [Oct.,
ec-
ice.
' is
use
ion
the
as
ng-
At
)ay
^ut
;en
hat
ity
An Old Street near St. Germain des Pr^s. authorities SOOn
realized the great
service that it was rendering to the poorer population of Paris.
On looking over the registry one sees that the greater part
of those received are not Parisiennes, They come from the
provinces and from all parts of the world. Upon entering, the
women are required, after giving their names, etc. (it frequently
happens that they know only their ^^ petit nonty' and in many
cases are surprised when asked for their family name, never
having known one), to pass into an adjoining room where one
perceives a strong smell of sulphur. Here every article is dis-
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infected, and every new-comer obliged to take a bath. This
is strongly objected to by many, but the rule is enforced.
Four meals a day are always given. For breakfast, soup
and bread are furnished ; for dinner, soup, meat, and vegetables ;
bread is given at four o'clock in the afternoon, and for supper,
soup and vegetables. The food is all well cooked and an
abundance is given to each.
The dormitories are thoroughly comfortable, well ventilated,
and spotlessly clean. In one of the dormitories are some small
beds beside the larger ones. Often a woman applies for ad-
mittance holding in her arms an infant. As the sister said to
me, "We must have a place for the little ones, for frequently
the mother comes to us direct from the Maternity Hospital,
so feeble that she is unfit for work. We cannot turn such away.'*
A touching precaution is taken. All of the women who are
admitted are addressed as madame, and to the mothers who
Street-Life of Paris.— Rue de Fouarre.
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^o A Phase of Parisian Socialism. [Oct.,
have no wedding-ring the superior gives a brass ring, thus
assuring them respect among their comrades.
Sister Antoine, the superior of the order, is a remarkably
clever woman, and under her skilful direction the HospitaliU
has been awarded the prize "Aud^oud" by the French
Academy. She is not satisfied with helping only the inmates
of the house. Within the past three years she has organized
two new works that she thinks will tend to raise the morals
of the poorer class, one of them being " LCEuvre du Travail a
Domicile,'' which furnishes work to the mother of a family to
be done in her own home, and for which she is paid more than
double the price given by the large shops. The superior told
me how the idea of this new " work " occurred to her. I trans-
late her words as nearly as possible:
" One day I by chance met a manufacturer of linens,
from Armenti^res, with whom I had dealt at times. He
asked whether I wished for some work for n\y poor people,
adding that he had just received an order from one of the
large shops for twelve thousand towels. He could send them
to me to be hemmed, if I cared to undertake it, for the
same price he would pay elsewhere — thirty-five centimes a
dozen (seven cents). I had no time to think it over, so
accepted the offer. The linen arrived; the lengths had to be
measured off and cut. All this, which took time, was included
in the price paid. But it was the dead season, so that when
the poor women applied for work I could at least offer it to
them, to take or leave as they saw fit, as, had they not accepted
it, the hemming could have been done in the institution. I
assure you I blushed when I told these poor creatures the
small sum that I was authorized to pay them. But all of them
said, ' Oh, ma soeur ! the few sous will at least buy milk for
our little ones.* The thought came to me then, Why should
not I become a ' commerqant * ? I wrote to several wholesale
linen houses for samples of towelling, etc.; then visited various
large shops and became acquainted with the prices of sheets,
pillow-cases, aprons, etc. I found that by buying at wholesale
prices in large quantities I could afford to sell the same goods
at the market price, and pay the women for hemming from
fourteen to twenty-four cents a dozen for towels, twenty-five
cents for sheets, etc., thus doubling, and in some cases more
than doubling, the pay given by the shops."
And in this way originated LCEuvre du Travail a Domi-
cile, which has proved a great success. In addition to the
shop at rHospitalitdy where one sees the linen piled up to the
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72 A Phase of Parisian Socialism. [Oct.,
A Bit of the Wall of Philippe auouste. indeed all the Custom-
ers of the laundry, have
been asked to send any chairs or mattresses that require repair
to the Hospitality The vans that take home the fresh linen bring
back anything that is given them, and the poor women fetch them
in turn to their own homes. I must add that great precaution is
taken against infection. Everything which could carry microbes
is thoroughly disinfected after leaving the women's hands.
The third ** oeuvre " that has been lately added is the
^^ Maison de TravaiV for men, known as the '^ Fondation Lau^
bispiny A magnificent donation permitted the purchase of an
adjoining piece of land, and subscriptions soon enabled Sister
Antoine to open a carpenter's shop, where men without work
find employment for the space of twenty days. They are paid
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I897-J A Phase of Parisian Socialism. 73
two francs (forty cents) a day, and buy their food at a sort of
food-depot connected with the "oeuvre," which is one of the
largest and cleanest kitchens I have ever visited. The breakfast
and dinner cost, the sister tells me, about eighteen cents a day.
The men pay seven cents more for a coupon that entitles
them to a bed in a neighboring lodging-house, where arrange-
ments have been made to receive them. By the time their
twenty days are up nearly every man has saved and put aside
a small sum of money, and feels himself no longer a beggar.
Their stay in the Maison de Travail has also given them the
habit of work, and nearly all succeed in finding steady employ-
ment. In 1893 eleven hundred and fifty-six men passed through
the work-rooms. It takes them but a short time to learn to
handle the tools, under the direction of a skilled workman.
They make all kinds of kitchen furniture, also school-benches,
pries-dieu, etc. During the first year the sale of articles made
by the men and delivered to large shops brought in 72,539
francs. The total expenditure, including salaries, the cost of
material, and general expenses, amounted to 90,963 francs.
This past year the deficit was not so great, but I am unable
to quote the exact figures.
In the women's Hospitality^ though a longer term is allowed
than is granted to the men, it often happens that when an in-
mate's three months are up she begs to remain longer, and
exceptions to the rule are frequently made, in cases where the
superior thinks a longer sojourn under her care would prove
beneficial. But generally positions are found for those whose
time is up, and the reverend mother sees them off with many
parting words of advice.
How many souls these good nuns save it is impossible to
know, but they have every reason to feel that they accomplish
much permanent benefit. A proof of this is the fact that rarely
does one of their women fail to return from time to time to
see the superior, and thus show appreciation of, and gratitude
for, the help given them.
Space compels me to leave other charities that I wish to
speak of, but I long to bring to light in America the amount
of thought and attention paid to the suffering poor in Paris, as
I know that much ignorance exists on this point. Let us give
credit where it is well deserved, and acknowledge that in other
countries, as well as in our own, many people are making a
study of the ways and means best calculated to relieve the
misery that surrounds us!
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74 Early Critics of Shakespeare. [Oct.,
EARLY CRITICS OF SHAKESPEARE.
BY WILLIAM HENRY SHERAN,
Oxford^ England,
HE history of Shakespearean criticism begins with
the literary career of the great dramatist; for,
from his first appearance as an author, con-
temporary writers freely expressed their opinions
about the man and about his work. Obviously, a
playivright of his merit — "whose deeds so took Eliza" — could
not long grace the English stage without winning critical at-
tention as well as public applause. That men of his genius
should quickly provoke criticism, both friendly and unfriendly,
is not to be wondered at ; for there were other playwrights —
giants in those days — who sought the highest honors, and, we
may believe, heartily hated any successful rival. Along with ful-
some praise have come down to us some of this jealous hatred,
some unequivocal expressions of envy ; and thus we may account
for these lines from the pen of Robert Greene written at the
close of the sixteenth century and at the beginning of Shake-
speare's dramatic career : " There is an upstart Crow, beautified
with our feathers, that with his Tygers heart wrapt in a Players
hide, supposes he is as well able to bombast out a blanke
verse as the best of you ; and being an absolute Johannes Fac-
totum, is in his owne conceit the onely Shake-scene in a
countrie;" Here are choice arrows from the quiver of literary
jealousy: "plagiarism,** "sham," "presumption" — and the one
drawing the long bow is none other than a rival play-
wright.
But without al liberal interpretation of the term criticism,
we cannot include under this term many early Shakespearean
references ; for as a rule this early opinion is crude, at times
offensively partial, and always superficial and incomplete.
Shakespeare seems to have impressed contemporary minds as
nature impressed the primitive man. In either case there was
awe, wonder, and spontaneous expression of delight, but the
critical faculty came not into play; there was no insight, no
analysis, no looking behind the veil for causes of delight or
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surprise. The wonderful magician called up a dead world
and made it live and speak before their astonished eyes ; yet
they caught not a glimpse of his wand, they could appreciate
neither the artist nor his art. Like Miranda, they simply
looked on and exclaimed : " O brave new world ! that hath such
people in it."
Some instances we will cite, as showing the feeble apprecia-
tion of the great . master in early times. In 1592 Henry
Chettle combined personal and literary qualities of Shakespeare
in the following profound observation : " My selfe have seen
his demeanor no lessfe civill than he exelent in the qualities he
professes: divers of worship have reported his uprightness of
dealing and his facetious grace in writing." Gabriel Harvey,
six years later, made an observation equally valuable from a
critical point of view : " The younger sort take much delight
in Shakespeare's Venus and Adonis ; but his Lucrece, and his
tragedy of Hamlet, Prince of Denmarke,'have it in them to
please the wiser sort." Ab uno disce omnes. The same feeble
note runs through Drayton and Weever and Marston and
Meres ; they utter glittering generalities ; they say Shakespeare
is wise or witty or honey-tongued or great, but they do not
cite any proofs of his being so ; they give no reasons for the
faith that is in them. It is difficult, therefore, to allow such a
liberal interpretation of the term " criticism " as will embrace
their crude estimates of the man and of his work ; yet a part
may fittingly find place here, as showing the attitude of the
English mind toward Shakespeare at the rise of the seventeenth
century, and as throwing some light on that vexed question
why the great dramatist was for so long unappreciated by
critics in his own country.
For it is a strange though undeniable fact that from the
date of the production of his plays to the time of Dryden — fully
half a century — Shakespeare received no adequate appreciation
from any critic, however much the public may have applauded
during his life-time and during the half-century that immediately
followed. The fault lay not so much with the public, for
English audiences, as a rule, welcomed the plays of Shakespeare.
It lay with the writers and savants who professed to sit in
critical judgment on the literary productions of their time.
How hopelessly inadequate their critical judgment was, becomes
clear in the following opinions taken from their writings.
Richard Barnfield in 1598, praising Spenser, Daniel, and Drayton,
has this to say of Shakespeare :
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"And Shakespeare, thou whose honey-flowing Vaine
Pleasing the world thy Praises doth obtain,
Live ever you, at least in Fame live ever."
In 1610, John Davies of Hereford composed the following
lines, dedicating them to " our English Terence, Mr. Will
Shakespeare " :
" Thou hast no rayling, but a raigning wit :
And honesty thou sow'st which others reap ;
So to increase their stock which they do keepe."
Just five years earlier, William Camden, in his " Remaines
concerning Britaine," classifies William Shakespeare with
Sidney, Daniel, Drayton, Jonson, Holland, Chapman, as "the
most pregnant wits of these our times." Thomas Freeman
wrote in 1614 a much-quoted passage concerning Master
William Shakespeare :
" Shakespeare, that nimble Mercury thy braine.
Lulls many hundred Argus-eyes asleepe —
So fit, for so thou fashionest thy vaine,
Virtue or vice the theame to thee all one is ;
But to praise thee aright I want thy store :
Then let thine owne works thine own worth upraise
And help t' adorn thee with deserved Baies."
In a preface signed by John Heminge and Henrie Condell,
and affixed to the first folio edition of Shakespeare, is this
bright observation, strange for the time : " He (Shakespeare)
was a happie imitator of Nature, was a most gentle expressor
of it." Of the same date, 1623, and in the same edition, a re-
markable poem by Ben Jonson appears, and heralds the dawn
of criticism properly so-called. This poem is so refreshing as
compared with the mass of contemporary critical verbiage that
an extensive quotation will be easily pardoned :
" Soul of the Age !
The applause ! delight ! the wonder of our Stage !
My Shakespeare, rise ! I will not lodge thee by
Chaucer or Spenser, or bid Beaumont lye
A little further, to make thee a roome :
Thou art a Monument, without a tombe.
And art alive still, while thy Booke doth live
And we have wits to read and praise to give.
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For, if I thought my judgment were of yeeres,
I should commit thee surely with thy peeres,
And tell how fame thou didst our Lily outshine
Or sporting Kid or Marlowes mighty line.
And though thou hadst small Latine and lesse Greeke,
From thence to honour thee I would not sceke
For names; but call forth thundring Aeschilus,
Euripides, and Sophocles to us,
Pavius, Aceius, him of Cordova dead.
To life againe, to heare thy Buskin tread
And shake a Stage: Or, when thy Sockes were on,
Leave thee alone, for the comparison
Of all that insolent Greece, or haughtier Rome
Sent forth, or since did from their ashes come.
Triumph, my Britaine, thou hast one to showe
To whom all Scenes of Europe homage owe.
He was not of an age, but for all time.
And all the Muses still were in their prime
When like Apollo he came forth to warme
Our ears, or like a Mercury to charme !
Nature herself was proud of his designs.
And joy'd to weave the dressing of his lines!
Which were so richly spun, and woven so fit
As since she will vouchsafe no other wit.
Yet must I not give Nature all : thy Art,
My gentle Shakespeare,, must enjoy a part.
For though the poets matter Nature be,
His Art doth give the fashion.
Sweet Swan of Avon ! what a sight it were
To see thee in our waters yet appear,
And make those flights upon the bankes of Thames
That so did take Eliza and our James!
But stay, I see thee in the Hemisphere
Advanced, and made a Constellation there !
Shine forth, thou Starre of Poets, and with rage
Or influence, chide or cheer the drooping stage ;
Which, since thy flight fro' hence, hath mourned like night.
And despaires day, but for thy Volumes light."
In a choice bit of prose written two years later, Jonson
pushes his critical inquiry still further : " Is it an honour to
Shakespeare, that in his writing (whatsoever he penned) he
never blotted out a line? My answer hathe beene, would he
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78 Early Critics of Shakespeare. [Oct.,
had blotted a thousand." Again : " He (Shakespeare) was in-
deed honest, and of an open and free nature; had an excel-
lent Phantasie, brave notions, and gentle expressions ; were-in
he glowed with that facility, that sometime it was necessary
he should be stopped. His wit was in his owne power; would
the rule of it had beene so too. But he redeemed his vices
with his virtues. There was ever more in him to be praysed
than to be pardoned." Jonson could have given to posterity
a better critical estimate than these lines contain ; but he has
written enough to justify the claim that appreciation for the
Sweet Bard was growing. It was a step in advance to recog-
nize Shakespeare's art ; it was a further step to see that
Shakespeare was not for his own age but for all time; then,
too, an acknowledgment of his superiority over all classical
predecessors whether Greek or Roman, along with an admis-
sion that he had vices as well as virtues, plainly indicates the
working of the critical faculty, however inadequate and incom-
plete the results as yet attained may be. Obviously, Jonson
caught the real outline of his towering grandeur amid the
mists and shadows which concealed him from other critical
eyes.
Milton follows Jonson with his meed of praise, and his
Epitaph on the ''admirable Dramaticke Poet" is valuable in
this connection, as showing how poorly Shakespeare was esti-
mated in the period now under consideration. "The leaves of
thy unvalued Booke," is a sad commentary on the immediate
heirs of Shakespeare's literary wealth. But they might defend
themselves in the style of Cicero : Culpa non est nostra sed tern"
porum. Yet Milton realized that Shakespeare "had built him-
self a lasting monument," "that kings would wish to die for
such a Tombe," and, moreover, he pays as high compliment to
the facility of the poet whose " easy numbers flow to the shame
of slow-endeavoring Art," as he does to the natural grace of
"Sweetest Shakespeare, Fancy's child, warbling wildly his
native woodnotes."
Like Milton, Sir John Suckling (1642) subscribes to the
opinion that Shakespeare wrote with wonderful ease:
"The sweat of learned Jonson 's brain
And gentle Shakespeare's easier strain
A hackney coach conveys you to."
Here, the contrast between Jonson's laboring art and Shake-
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speare's easy warbling is emphasized. Doubtless the audience
often helped the critic to decide: the houses drawn by the
lumbering classical plays of Jonson must have been small,
and the critic naturally sought for the cause! In his time
Shirley notices the waning popularity of Shakespeare : " many
used to come to enjoy his mirth, but he hath few friends
lately." His statement harmonizes with Milton's observation
concerning "thy unvalued Booke." In a poem prefixed to the
first edition of Beaumont and Fletcher, Denham is disposed to
rank the art of Fletcher above that of Shakespeare: "In
Shakespeare one could easily see where Nature ended and
where Art began; but Fletcher's Art mixed with Nature 'like
the elements ' and one could not be distinguished from the
other." In 1647 Sir George Buck gushes forth:
" Let Shakespeare, Chapman and applauded Ben
Weare the eternall merit of their pen."
His preference is still for Fletcher, and James Howell, another
critic, his contemporary, shares the same opinion. At our dis-
tant day, when Beaumont and Fletcher are seldom opened
save by savants, the preferences of Buck and Howell are diffi-
cult to understand. Birkenhead had a like preference:
" Brave Shakespeare flowed, yet had his Ebbings too.
Often above himselfe, sometimes below.
But Fletcher ever kept the golden mean."
A redeeming note is found in Samuel Sheppard's beautiful
lyric on Shakespeare, part of which may be quoted :
"Thou wert truly Priest Elect,
Chosen darling to the Muses nine.
Such a Trophey to erect
By thy wit and skill Divine.
"Where thy honored bones do lie
(As Statins once to Maro's urne)
Thither every year will I
Slowly tread, and sadly mourn."
Sir Ashton Cokaine (1660) asks Honeyman "to lessen the
loss of Shakespeare's death by thy successful Pen and fortun-
ate fantasie " ! Posterity is not aware that Honeyman succeeded
to any appreciable extent. More critical than Cokaine, Fleck-
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noe discriminates between Jonson, Shakespeare, and Fletcher:
"Shakespeare excelled in a natural vein, Fletcher in wit, and
Jonson in gravity. Comparing Jonson with Shakespeare,
you shall see the difference between Nature and Art; and
with Fletcher, the difference between Wit and Judgment/*
Still more substantial and savoring of the modern critical
spirit are the views expressed by Margret Cavendish, 1664. In
her " sociable letters to the Dutchess of Newcastle ** she made
frequent incursions into the field of dramatic literature, and
her observations on Shakespeare are worth recording, for as a
critical estimate they are superior to anything yet produced,
and as a critic their author is a worthy precursor of John
Dryden. The following letter (No. 26) contains in part her
appreciation of the distinguished author:
" I wonder how that person you mention in your letter
could either have the conscience or the confidence to dispraise
Shakespeare's plays, as to say they were made up oncly with
clowns, fools, watchmen, and the like ; but to answer that per-
son, though Shakespeare's wit will answer for himself, I say,
that it seems by his judging, or censuring, he understands not
playes, or wit; for to express properly, rightly, usually, and
naturally a clown's or fool's humor, expressions, phrases, garbs,
manners, actions, words, and course of life, are as witty, wise,
judicious, ingenious, and observing, as to write and express the
phrases, actions, garbs, manners, and course of life, of kings and
princes. It declares a greater wit, to express and deliver to
posterity, the extravagances of madness, the subtility of knaves,
the ignorance of clowns, and the simplicity of naturals or the
craft of feigned fools, than to express regularities, plain honesty,
courtly garbs, or sensible discourses, for 'tis harder to express
nonsense than sense, and ordinary conversations, than that
which is unusual; and 'tis harder, and requires more wit to
express a jester, than a grave statesman ; yet Shakespeare did
not want wit to express to the life all sorts of persons, of what
quality, possession, degree, breeding or birth soever; nor did
he want wit to express the divers and different humors, or
natures, or several passions in mankind ; and so well he hath
expressed in his plays all sorts of persons, as one would think
he had been transformed into every one of those persons he
hath described ; and as sometimes one would think he was
really the clown or jester he feigns, so one would think he
was also the king and privy councillor ; also one would think
he was the coward and the most valiant ; for example, Falstaff
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or Caesar. Antonio and Brutus did not speak better to the
people than he (Shakespeare) feigned them. One would think
he had been a woman, for who could describe Cleopatra bet-
ter, or Nan Page or Mrs. Ford or Quickly, Doll Fearsheet?
And so on for the others. Shakespeare had a clear judgment,
a quick wit, a spreading fancy, a subtile observation, a deep
apprehension, and a most eloquent elocution ; truly he was a
natural orator as well as a natural poet. Unlike lawyers who
can talk eloquently on one subject and on none other, Shake-
speare rather wanted subjects for his wit and eloquence to
work on, for which he was forced to take some of his plots
out of history, where he only took the bare designs, the wit
and language being all his own."
So much for the scope and character of early Shakespearean
criticism. Not all has been adduced here, but enough is quoted
in illustration of the first half-century; and from these extracts
one may learn how feeble and unpromising were the origins of
that appreciation which began with Greene and Chettle and
struggled for existence during the following fifty years. It
seemed as if Shakespeare's work was doomed to oblivion. The
seed buried in the soil gave no promise of life. The winter of
Puritanism was over the land, and Art fled from his icy em-
brace. Church and school and stage became bleak and deso-
late. The voices of music and of song were changed to an
agony of lamentation,
"Like a wind that shrills
All night in a waste land where no one comes
Or hath come since the making of the world."
But the winter, however long and cold, finally gave place to
spring. The drama blossomed once more. English audiences
wept again over the misfortunes of Desdemona and laughed at
the follies of Falstafl. There was a Renaissance — Shakespeare
appeared again, to remain, let us hope for ever, the pride and
glory of the English stage. For his reappearance the English
world is indebted, most of all, to John Dryden.
VOL. LXVI.— 6
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82 How A Bible Student caa/e to be a Catholic, [Oct.,
HOW A BIBLE STUDENT CAME TO BE A
CATHOLIC.
BY REV. R. RICHARDSON.
I.
WHY I CEASED TO BE A DISSENTER.
T the age of seventeen I found myself a regular
attendant at an Independent, or Congregational,
chapel in Manchester. I did not know why I
was a member of that congregation ; in fact, I
had never reflected. I had always been brought
up an attendant at a dissenting place of worship, though I had
occasionally gone to the Church of England. My father's rela-
tions were all Baptists, my mother was brought up a Unitarian,
but somehow the family as a rule attended an Independent
chapel. For aught I knew, I belonged to the true religion ; I
had, however, to learn why I was " Nonconformist."
I believed the Bible to be the word of God, and read it
diligently every night with Scott and Henry's Commentary, in
which I often saw quotations from the Fathers, St. Augustine,
St. Jerome, and others ; but I knew nothing about the Fathers,
and took their opinion for what it was worth.
I attended chapel regularly, listening attentively to the minis-
ter, the Rev. Mr. Griffin, who was a clever speaker, and I should
say a fairly well-read man. I was actively engaged in the Sun-
day-school, and had charge of the upper class, consisting of
young men, who would sometimes ask puzzling questions. I had,
therefore, carefully to read up and prepare my Bible lesson
every week.
I had also charge of the congregational library and large
tract cupboard, where the distributers came to change their
tracts every Sunday. I was myself also a tract-distributer and
had a regular district, where I made the acquaintance of the
diff^erent families. I remember I used to call at one house where
they were Catholics, who used to bang the door in my face
and exclaim, "Be off^! We want none of your rubbish here!"
After that I would push the weekly tract under the door, and
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1897.] How A Bible Student came to be a Ca tholic. 83
hope and pray for these poor benighted souls. I learned after-
wards that these people had taken an interest in my salvation,
and had expected my conversion, though theirs was certainly a
queer way of showing it.
In my district I also found a young man in the last stage
of consumption, bed-ridden so long that his bones had worn
through his skin. I saw that he could not last long. Accord-
ingly I called upon one of the deacons, who was known for his
conduct of a prayer-meeting, and was considered a really pious
man, asking him to come and help the sick youth to die well;
but he replied that he did not believe in attending death-beds,
for as a man lived so would he die. So, sore at heart, I called
again and again, to see and try to comfort the poor dying
youth and his sorrowing mother, telling her to call me any
hour, day or night, when she thought he was going. At an
early hour one morning, according to agreement, she threw
some small pebbles at my window, and I got up and went to
visit the dying youth. But what could I do, who had never
seen any one die in my life? The youth was breathing hard,
still conscious, but unable to attend to the reading of the
Scriptures or to prayer. What was to be done? Well, to tell
you the truth, after exhorting him to take courage and trust
in his Saviour, I stood and watched him dying like a poor ani-
mal, saying afterwards to myself : " Surely, there must be a
better religion and one supplying more help at the hour of
death."
I had not then read the account of the death of Martin
Luther's mother, who, when she saw her last end near, asked
her son to fetch the priest that she might make her confession,
receive the Body and Blood of Jesus Christ, and be anointed,
that her sins might be forgiven her, according to St. James
V. 14. In reply to which Martin said : ** I thought, mother,
that we had done away with all that long ago.** It is nar-
rated that his mother answered : '* Yes, the new religion may
be very well to live by, but the old one is the best for the
hour of death.**
Thus it came about that this death-bed scene of the young
man made an impression on me, just imperceptibly, shaking
my confidence in the religion in which I had been brought up.
It was about this time that I asked to be admitted as a
regular member of the church, and was for the first time
baptized. I was then about twenty-one. It is, however, worthy
of remark that the minister^ who baptized me, though he pub-
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84 How A Bible Student came to be a Ca tholic. [Oct.,
licly poured the water upon my head and said the words, " I
baptize thee, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and
of the Holy Ghost," added his own words : " Now, remember,
I have not done anything to your soul ; I have only done
what our Lord commanded as an external act for admitting
you into church-membership," thereby implying that he did
not believe baptism to be a sacrament, of which our Lord had
said, " Except a man be born again of water and of the Holy
Ghost, he cannot enter into the kingdom of heaven " ; or as when
again, sending his apostles and their successors to preach until
the consummation of the world, he also said, " He that be-
lieveth and is baptized shall be saved."
So I went away with a confused idea of that last command
which our Lord had given to his apostles.
Amongst other books, I came across one called The Spiri-
tual Combat, an ascetic treatise on the conduct of the soul in
her conflict with the world, the flesh, and the devil. Here, to
my surprise, I found this holy warfare reduced to a real
science; things that had puzzled my mind, questions about the
conduct of the soul, were all treated of and handled as by one
who understood the science of salvation. I used to read pas-
sages of this book at our prayer-meetings, without mentioning
the author or the title of the book.
At length came the question, not why was I a member of
a Congregational chapel, but why was I Protestant? I wished
to be an honest Protestant. Accordingly I spoke to my
brother, who was a Catholic and with whom I had often
argued, endeavoring to show him that the Catholic religion
was simply a religion of poetry, music, and painting, sculpture
and architecture, haying nothing in it but what the devil or
the world might supply, and probably had supplied.
I asked him to lend me a book which stated the doctrines
of his church plainly and clearly, my purpose being that I
might know against what I was protesting and thus become a
sincere Protestant, D'Aubign^'s History of the Protestant Refor-
mation having sufficiently shown the folly and the wickedness
of popery. He accordingly lent me Milner's End of Contro-
versy, and, with much prayer for light, I began seriously to
put down in a book I kept in my pocket all that I could see
against popery, and, to be honest, all that I thought in its
favor. But I clung to my Bible, and I imagined I was follow-
ing the teaching of the Bible when searching for texts to con-
firm me in the religion in which I had been brought up.
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When, however, I came to look seriously into the question, I
found that almost all Protestants followed tradition, and not
Scripture alone : I had received the Bible on tradition ; I
had kept Sunday instead of the Bible Sabbath on tradition ; I
had believed in infant baptism, without a single text in support
of it, on tradition ; and also held the manner of baptizing by
pouring or sprinkling (although the Scripture seemed in favor
of immersion), on tradition. I had rejected the anointing
with oil for the forgiveness of sin prescribed by St. James as
a Christian duty, still on tradition.
Thus, in the end, when I came carefully to look at the
question, I found that parents brought up their children in
their own creed, and according to the tradition of their sect.
The Baptist taught his children not to be baptized until they
had arrived at an age to understand what they were doing;
the Unitarian told his that Jesus Christ was not God, but
only a divine man ; all confirming their doctrines by reference
to the Bible.
What was I to do ? The Anglican assured me that his
doctrine was according to the Bible ; the Methodist taught me
that his view was quite scriptural, and the Swedenborgian, that
his were the only people who understood the Scripture pro-
perly.
Here, then, I saw a great difficulty, for unless I understood
the Scripture rightly how was I to know that I had the word
of God ; but where was I to find a trustworthy authority for
the true interpretation of the Bible ? Where was I to find a
correct translation of Scripture? I saw that there were various
translations — Trinitarian, Unitarian, Lutheran, and even Catholic.
In my own family, besides my parents, who had been brought
up in different religions, one brother was an Independent,
another a Swedenborgian, another a Catholic, and my sister a
member of the Church of England. Was I to read Scrip-
ture with my mother or my father, with my sister or my three
brothers, all differing very widely ?
There was nothing for it but prayer, and, though I did not
know it then, my Catholic brother was not only praying for
me himself, but had got hundreds of his fellow-Catholics to pray
for me.
At last I saw clearly that I had been cheated into suppos-
ing the written word of God, the Bible by itself, was a suffi-
cient guide, and I felt convinced that our Lord, who came on
earth to teach truth till the end of time, must have provided
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86 Ho w A Bible Student came to be a Ca tholic. [Oct.,
some means by which his truth should continue to be taught,
as clearly and as certainly as if he himself spoke.
This simplified the question. I had not to take upon my-
self to try to understand the true meaning of Scripture, but
to find that body of men whom our Lord sent to teach. He
did not send them to distribute Bibles but to teaCh, saying :
" He that heareth you heareth me." " Going, therefore, teach
all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of
the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.** And calling together his
apostles, he sent them to teach " all things whatsoever he had
commanded," and added, " Behold I am with you all days, even
to the consummation of the world " (Matt, xxviii.)
I saw then that the path of safety and of truth was to be
found only in a living, speaking, visible teaching body of men
sent by Christ, with whom alone our Lord promised to remain ;
not anybody, but those only coming down by direct mission
and authority from men chosen, and as he had himself been
sent by the Father (John xx. 21).
These were to teach, not as the scribes and pharisees, by
arguing and wrangling, but with authority, like to Christ
himself (Matt. vii. 29).
Evidently there must be such a body of teachers in the
world, because our Lord had said : " I am with you always to
the consummation of the world." Now, I found that the ancient
Catholic Church was the only church that, actually professed
to teach with such dogmatic authority ; the only church that
everywhere taught the same meaning of Scripture ; the only
church that had come down from the time of the apostles ;
and so I began to think that this might be the true way to
learn what to believe and what to do to save my soul.
I was assured from history that though in the beginning,
when there was no New Testament written and the Old was
very difficult to get at, such a teaching church did really exist,
it had overlaid the doctrine of truth and had failed long ago.
It was, however, quite clear that if the body of teachers
sent by Christ, having a regular organization, such as he made
it, had failed, then the promises of Christ must have failed
also ; which is impossible.
And now, having advanced so far, I had to contend with
my " Bible Christian " friends, who asserted that the Church of
Christ consisted of those souls who believed in Jesus and whose
outward life bore testimony that they were his disciples. This
theory at first sight appeared very plausible, and calculated to
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relieve one of a thousand difficulties; leaving each one to follow
his own ideas, believing himself to be enlightened and guided
by God. But in such a case, I asked, who is to teach with
authority and who is to be the guardian of truth as revealed
by Jesus Christ ? How am I to know for certain what our
Lord taught to his apostles, which he commanded them to
teach until the consummation of the world (Matt, xxviii. 20).
This theory of a purely spiritual church, without teachers,
having none of the authority that the apostles and their suc-
cessors were to have, was certainly not the church theory by
which St. Paul speaks when he writes to Timothy, saying:
"Stir up the gift that is within thee by the imposition of
my hands : preach the word, be instant in season and out of
season ; reprove, exhort, rebuke in all patience and doctrine ;
for there shall come a time when they will not ^endure sound
doctrine; let no man despise thy youth" (I. Tim. 4v. 12).
And we find, in reading the history of the early church,
these visible teachers, the bishops, had authority and taught like
our Lord ; because the promise was with them that they should
be guided by the Holy Ghost.
Here my friends opened out another question. " What,'*
they asked, " was a bishop, and what were his duties and how
was he made a bishop ? '* But these questions were not for me
to answer. I had to find a church which I had learned
historically was sent by Christ, who was God, and having found
that body of men, that organization — call it by what name you
will — it was from that church I was to learn the whole teach-
ing of Christ ; she alone could tell me who were her ministers,
she alone could stand forth and forbid false teachers, because
that was her office.
When I came to read the history of heresies, I saw that,
but for the protection and preservation of truth by the Catholic
Church, all the doctrines of Christianity would have been lost
long ago, especially my much valued, my much revered Bible.
Thus I began to look with reverence on the church against
which I had so long fought.
II.
WHY I BECAME A CATHOLIC.
At the age of twenty-one, then, after fighting vigorously
against what I regarded as popish errors, I found myself read-
ing and studying the question, What Rule of Faith was safe
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88 Ho IV A Bible Student came to be a Ca tholic. [Oct.,
and reasonable to follow?* I had seen that the Protestant rule
of deciding for yourself what doctrines were true was neither
safe nor reasonable, because those who thus acted indepen-
dently came to every possible variety of creed.
Up to this time I had always held it as certain that the
Bible and the Bible only, with such help as I could get from
others as fallible as myself, was the right rule of faith ; and
when I came to consider the Catholic Church as possibly the
true Teacher, sent by Christ, I said to myself : " If I should
ever become a Catholic, I shall always stick to my Bible, and
no one shall prevent me reading the word of God "; repeating
my favorite words :
" Holy Bible, book divine.
Precious treasure, thou art mine, for ever mine."
This was still my sheet-anchor — the Bible and the meaning
that seemed to me right.
When, however, I came to look seriously at it, and ask my-
self the question, Whence did I get my Bible, which I read daily
with so much devotion and reverence ? Where was my guaran-
tee that I had the right copy of the Sacred Scripture? Here
was quite new ground for me : Was my text the very word
of God? The Old Testament, originally written in Hebrew,
had been lost and rewritten by Esdras, and this copy had again
been translated into Greek by seventy learned scholars. As for
the New Testament, some of it was originally written in Syro-
Chaldaic and Greek, and probably the Acts of the Apostles
was written in Latin, and the originals of these were most of
them lost or the MSS. doubtful, and these had been translated
and retranslated, revised and corrected again and again, during
eighteen hundred years, copied and recopied with interpolations.
What security had I that I had got in my English translation
the pure word of God ?
How was I to be sure that I had all the books of Scripture?
In some old copies of the Scriptures, still to be found in old
country churches, there is at the end what was called apocryphal
writings, and these were accepted by the Catholic Church as
inspired, and rejected by the publishers of the Protestant
Bible.
How, then, was I to be certain which was the inspired word
of God, and which was the correct translation ?
During all these eighteen hundred years who had watched
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1897.] How A Bible Student came to be a Ca tholic. 89
over and guarded this Holy Bible of mine ? To my surprise, I
learned that this had been done by the Catholic Church alone.
*• Surely," I said to myself, *' those old monks were not such
bad fellows after all," though I had always been taught that
they were an idle lot of ignorant people.
But here was evidence of two things — their great love for
the Bible and their wonderful plodding industry in multiplying
copies of the word of God.
The English edition which I had was published by " the
authority of his dread Majesty King James," and was translated
by the Reformers, and altered here and there to make it fit in
with the new religion. Still I clung to my Bible, But here
arose another difficulty : How was I sure that I understood the
text according to the mind of the writer guided by the Holy
Ghost, even supposing I had a faultless translation? And un-
til I did, I had not the pure, unadulterated word of God ; be-
sides, there were so many texts which I had, with others,
passed over and left aside as having nothing to do with me or
my salvation ; such, for example, as : "I give unto thee the
keys of the Kingdom of Heaven." "Whatsoever thou shalt
bind on earth shall be bound in heaven, and whatsoever thou
shalt loose upon earth shall be loosed in heaven." "There is
a sin that is not unto death, and there is a sin that is unto
death." ** Receive ye the Holy Ghost : whose sins you shall
remit, they are remitted; whose sins you shall retain, they are
retained."
Thus text after text which I had read so often now stood
before me asking to be understood. In the Acts of the Apos-
tles we read that when Philip overtook the eunuch reading the
prophets in his chariot, he asked him, " Understandest thou
what thou readest ? " who replied, "How should I unless some
one show me."
I found myself, after reading the Scripture, in somewhat
the same position as the eunuch, feeling that I too required a
teacher in the study of Holy Writ.
Of course I had been brought up a thorough-going opponent
of the Visible Church idea, and had no idea of a living, speak-
ing, teaching church. My idea was, that each congregation was
a church in itself, and that all such different churches, what-
ever their creed, constituted Christianity ; that there were good
and bad in all the different churches, and that none was infal-
lible. But this did not help me at all. I wanted to know for
certain what I was to believe as true beyond a doubt, and what
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90 How A Bible Student came to be a Ca tholic. [Oct.,
I was to do to save my soul. I was sure that Jesus Christ
came on earth to teach me these things, and I was now anxious
to learn all that he had taught.
I had really nothing to go by but history. I had learned
to be afraid of interpreting the Bible for myself ; so I took
the history as given in the Gospels, and there we learn that
Christ sent a body of men, an organization which he called
his church, giving them power to teach truth with such pre-
cision that whoever heard them heard him, and with power also
to forgive sin. This body of teachers I had to find.
I could not find this in the Anglican Church, because it did
not profess to teach with authority — that is, with dogmatic cer-
tainty as the infallible teacher sent by Christ ; and, moreover,
I saw that the bishops and the clergy of the Anglican Church,
far from teaching with any kind of certainty, differed amongst
themselves upon the most important doctrines, and that the
members of that church chose which minister they would sit
under, somewhat like the dissenters, who, according to their
own desires, heap to themselves teachers, having itching ears
(II. Tim. iv. 3), and who I knew, when they wanted a minister,
had men sent for inspection to see if they liked their doctrine
and preaching.
It was not, therefore, ritual that brought me into the
church, but a sincere desire to know the truth taught by Jesus
Christ when upon earth. You may, therefore, imagine my con-
fusion when I went to Mass for the first time ! I had not
been trained to ceremonie's and music. My whole feelings
rebelled against it all, and I began to think of retreat. But
unto whom should I go? Here was the church sent by Jesus
Christ, and I could only say, in the words of St. Peter when
our Lord asked his apostles if they would go back : " Lord,
unto whom shall we go? Thou hast the words of eternal life."
To go back was impossible, for there was nowhere to go.
There was nothing for it but to go on, and I must at that time
have realized what Mr. Gladstone since then said of the church:
" Our Redeemer founded upon earth a visible and perma-
nent society, cohering, and intended always to cohere, by means
not only of a common profession of faith, but also of common
and public ordinances, which by their outward form constituted
and sealed the visible union of all believers ; while by the in-
ward spiritual grace attached to them, they were also destined
to regenerate man in Christ and to build them up in him.
*' If a society founded by Christ, does not this imply the
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I897-] How A Bible Student came to be a Catholic. 91
foundation of a government? If ordinances of grace were
established, did they not require to be entrusted to the hands
of persons constituting that government for their permanent
conservation ? "
And every day since then, when for a moment I lookecj
back, I have been studying and admiring the wonderful unity
of the teaching of the Catholic Church, bringing peace to mind
and heart.
This is the one wonderful miracle placed daily before the
eyes of the outside world : that in all ages and all places
wherever there is a Catholic priest, he invariably teaches the
same truth as every other priest or bishop in the world, no
matter to what nation he may belong or what language he
may use. No flaw can be found in the authority and doctrine
of the church which is thus perfectly one.
By this all men may know that Christ, her divine Founder,
w^as sent by the Eternal Father (John xvii. 21).
These, then, are some of the reasons why I sought admis-
sion into the Catholic Church, of which it is said " And the
Lord added to the church daily such as should be saved.*'
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ROBERT EMMET.
On seeing John Mulvany's portrait of the Irish patriot, now in the possession
of Dr, Thomas Addis Ethmet.
BY JOHN JEROME ROONEY.
EE ! how the lightning flashes from his eye,
And hark ! the rolling thunder of his tone.
There — there he stands, defiant and alone.
Fronting his fate and unafraid to die !
Behind him Life's enchanted pathways lie, —
Before — the noose — the cap — the fall — the groan —
Death's bitter agony — the spirit flown,
To pass, perchance, unwept, without a sigh !
Say, doth he shirk his destiny forlorn ?
Hath Terror claimed a heart subdued and awed.
Or bade a quiver steal across those lips?
See, how he wings the arrows of his scorn !
See, how he smites the tyrant's ermined fraud
With words that crash like volley-thundering ships !
Note.— Mr. John Mulvany, the artist who painted the large historical picture of ** Sheri-
dan's Ride," has recently produced for the writer a portrait of Robert Emraet which in all
probability will be accepted in the future as the most truthful representation of Emmet's gen-
eral appearance now to be obtained. This portrait is made from a study of the death-mask
and from a combination of Comerford'sand Petrie's sketch. This plan has been undertaken in
the past by others, but each effort heretofore proved unsatisfactory and was abandoned. The
artist has followed chiefly Petrie's sketch, as it indicated the most character. The expression
exhibited by it was undoubtedly caught by Petrie at the moment while Emmet had been
speaking, and in one of the pauses when the judge is insinuating that he had made his terms
with the French for his own personal advantage. The supreme degree of contempt which
Robert Emmet felt for the course pursued in conducting the trial, which was but a libel on
justice, and his righteous indignation at the charge made by the judge, is shown in the
picture.
It is true that the expression is not one which would be selected as a prominent feature in
the likeness of a friend. But this represents a special incident in an historical scene which
will be held ever dear in the memory of the Irish people ; moreover, Mr. Emmet was not only
vindicating himself at this moment, but also the action of the Irish people themselves, who
were in sympathy with his cause, and from this stand-point the likeness will probably be ac-
cepted. Dr. Thomas Addis Emmet.
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** See, how he smites the tyrant's ermined fraud
With words that crash like volley-thundering ships!"
The above picture of Robert Emmet, by Mulvany, has been copied in the History of
tk£ Emmet Family^ and is described by Dr. Thomas Addis Emmet in the words of the note on
the opposite page.
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94 The French Expedition to Ireland in lygS. [Oct.,
THE FRENCH EXPEDITION TO IRELAND IN 1798.*
BY REV. GEORGE McDERMOT, C.S.P.
R attention has just been called to an article in
the Dublin Review on the expedition sent to
Ireland in 1798 by the French Republic. We
opened it in the expectation of finding a tem-
perate dissertation on the system which then
governed the relations of France to other countries. We can-
not call it a policy, any more than we can call the irruptions
of the barbarians a policy. It was a system of aggression, born
of necessity and pursued without respect for the past, without
thought for the future. We had hoped to find in the article
some instructive suggestion concerning this particular instance
of the universal assault on the monarchies of Europe — instruc-
tive in the special circumstances of Ireland. We have nothing
of the kind. We have, instead, a fragmentary account of Hum-
bert's descent at Killala Bay in August, an allusion to the de-
scent on the English coast by "the second legion of Franks"
in February, 1797, the entrance of a French fleet into Bantry
Bay on the coast of Ireland in the previous December, the
second appearance of a few French ships in Killala Bay in
October, and the expedition in the same month which was
defeated off Lough Swilly. This last is interesting because
Wolfe Tone, the founder of the United Irishmen, was taken
prisoner while fighting desperately on board the flag-ship
Hoche,
We have in the article nineteen pages of matter purporting
to be the essence of six works — the first published in 1800, the
last the republished Autobiography of Tone. The meaning of
the insurrection could be gathered from the last-named book,
as the origin and hopes of the United Irishmen are there fully
stated ; but the writer in the Dublin Review brushes them away
as of no moment in comparison with his own theory — that the
insurrection was an insensate revolt of shoeless, ignorant, and
ferocious peasants of hideous aspect, fomented by the Direc-
tory of the French Republic.
*- Dublin Rivuw^ July.
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THE ENGLISH POLICY WAS TO CREATE ANTAGONISMS.
We say nothing just now concerning the justice of a rising
against the government of Ireland at that time. We can only
express astonishment that an article calculated to cause national
exasperation should appear in a review founded to assert Irish
and Catholic claims. We deprecate efforts to perpetuate the
old hostility between the people of Ireland and of England.
Whatever may be said against Mr. Gladstone's policy of Home
Rule as a conception of the relations between the countries, it
cannot be denied that he succeeded in conciliating the vast
majority of the Irish people. It has been said that the Irish
lack gall to make oppression bitter ; no matter how they are
treated, they will only clamor a little or whine, in which moods
enough of the " stick " can always secure silence, or, in case of
any real danger, a sop of some kind may be thrown to them
until the next period for the stick.
This is not our interpretation of the moods of ministers.
The word " stick " has been insolently used in the English press
and on the platform ; men highly thought of in Ireland, and by
personal friends out of Ireland, have been libelled in the Eng-
lish papers, without regard to decency, because they espoused
the interests of their country ; the comic journals have exhibited
Irishmen in their cartoons as gorillas armed for assassination,
and the whole press has held them up time and again as men-
dicants begging for what brave men would have taken or died
in the attempt to take. It would be a mistake to suppose this
scorn was reserved for the poorer classes or the disloyal classes*
No class in Ireland was safe from the malignity of the scribe
who ate this bread of infamy, or the limner who spread his
meaningless caricature on a page of Punchy or Judy, or the
Tomahawk^ or some evangelical paper more funny than the
comic journals. We wish Irish gentlemen who are now flattered
as the garrison to remember how, in their young days, they
were described as fortune-hunters of swaggering gait, brutal eyes
and brazen forehead, haunting English watering-places. The
poor imbecile Costigan or the truculent ruffian Barry Lyndon
represents one or other of Mr. Thackeray's types of the well-
born Irishman. Now, it is in the interest of these Protestant
gentlemen that the great Catholic review, the Dublitiy holds up
the poor peasants who joined Humbert as filthy savages, the
predecessors in manners, means, and intelligence of the Parlia-
mentary Party. In a word, the article from beginning to end
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96 The French Expedition to Ireland in lygS, [Oct.,
is a covert attack on the policy inaugurated in the Disestablish-
ment Act, intended to be expressed in the Land Code beginning
with the great act of 1870, and which we think would have
been a security for the empire if it had been completed by the
passage of the Home-Rule Bill.
We see no reason for the article as it stands. As we have
hinted, there could have been written a valuable paper exam-
ining the action of the French Directory in a country circum-
stanced as Ireland then was, with a Catholic population inclined
to be loyal if it had any encouragement ; a numerous body of
Presbyterians alert, almost unbelieving, sharp and enterprising,
determined to rebel ; an Established Church whose members
were strangely divided between theoretical traitors and loyalists
secured by bribes — theoretical traitors to-day who would be
practical loyalists to-morrow for a consideration, while handy-
dandy the practical loyalists would embrace the theoretical trea-
son in their turn. Of course we have nothing of this; nothing
but a partial, distorted, and almost unintelligible jotting down
of selections from prejudiced authorities of the events in a
campaign which of itself has no lesson to teach — a campaign
barely above a marauding expedition. Newspaper correspon-
dence made to order is severe history when compared with the
review of matters given in this article.
THE REBELLION OF '98 OF HISTORICAL VALUE.
Yet, we doubt, is there anywhere to be found more valua-
ble material for a chapter in the philosophy of history than the
rebellion of 1798. If rulers sow the wind, they must expect to
reap the whirlwind. No phenomenon of society is without a
cause, and if we find a disturbance it must have had its source
in men's passions, in unalterable conditions of their nature. At
this time of day we do not value even an accurate account of
events a century old, unless the events give us some guide to
the perplexities of the present. The marching of the King of
France and his twenty thousand men is as profitable a perform-
ance in the development of society as the invasion of Humbert
in our essayist's hands, and quite as exact history. We regret
to open the old story. The seven centuries of wrong was be-
coming a plirase, practical men had become tired of it ; the
younger men were beginning to relegate the old cruelties to
the adornment of a tale, the fierce conflicts were, in the better
day, to serve no purpose but that of a theme for the poet, the
playwright, or the novelist. In Ireland, as a part of the em-
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pire, they would serve as a subtle reminiscence of her nationality,
like the songs of Scotland, and, like them, an influence of at-
tachment to the power that so far respected the national senti-
ment. It is astonishing to find how little knowledge or talent
is needed to injure a great work of any kind. A child can
blow up a powder magazine in a beleaguered city, a Dublin
reviewer defeat the policy of the greatest statesman.
THE ROLE OF FROUDE.
We presume the writer of the article is a Catholic, for no
Protestant would select a Catholic organ in which to ventilate
his contempt for the poor peasants who told Humbert that
they came " to fight for God and the Blessed Virgin " ; no Protest-
ant would venture to say in such a publication that they fought
" with the crucifix at their head," and that their " chief object
was the extirpation of heretics." We ourselves fail to see the
iniquity of Catholics claiming the protection of Our Lady if
they think they are fighting for a good cause. It is not neces-
sary now to maintain that the cause in question was a good
one — we may offer considerations before we are done to show
that the " peasants " might have reasonably thought they were
fighting for a good cause — but the point is that Irish peasants
in 1798 had as good a right to rush to death with the name of
our Blessed Lady on their lips as Irish gentlemen in the
Great Civil War of 1641-53, and as those who fought against
the Protestant League of Europe, headed by the Prince of
Orange, in 1689-91. The fact that the Pope was a member
of the Protestant League does not affect the matter. We
respectfully submit that Lord Lucan, Sir Neal O'Neil, Lord
Mountcashel, and the other gentlemen who fought for Holy
Church were as good Catholics as His Holiness the Pope, as
good Catholics as the Crusaders, to whom the name of our
Blessed Lady was a prayer and inspiration, as good Catholics
as Simon de Montfort and Don John of Austria, who in their
need found her the Help of Christians.
We speak in this manner because it is obvious that the
writer in the Dublin Review has tried, in a small way, to
play the rSle of Mr. James Anthony Froude. Froude in
his effort to excite American prejudice against the Irish
cause spoke from Protestant platforms and under Protest
ant auspices. He was clearly within his rights in doing
so* We have no objection to fair discussion ; anything that
knowledge fairly presented would have enabled Mr. Froude to
VOL. LXV. — 7
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98 The French Expedition to Ireland in ijgS. [Oct.,
urge against the hopes of the Irish people should command
attention. We think he was unfair, that his authorities were
selected, that his extracts were garbled ; but he did not attack
the stronghold from within, he was not in charge of the de-
fences, he did not betray the garrison. It may be thought
good policy for the Dublin Review to heap contumely on the
peasants of 1798, the predecessors of the Land League peas-
ants, of the Plan-of-Campaign peasants, and, by rhetorical im-
plication, of the entire National party. The filthy savages who
robbed and murdered all the loyalists that fell into their hands
in the short term of success that Humbert enjoyed, acted ac-
cording to their Irish nature ; the same that shoots landlords
from behind hedges, drowns bailififs in bog-holes, intimidates
foreigners entering into possession of evicted holdings, stones
the police when breaking up a public meeting, refuses to pay
exorbitant rents, and is guilty of the incredible wickedness of
lodging originating notices* in the Court of Land Commission.
We fear that Mr. Gladstone was mistaken when he denied that
the Irish had received a double dose of original sin.
THE ENGLISH CATHOLICS OWE NOT A LITTLE TO THE IRISH.
Nothing else, to our mind, can account for the fact that
Irish influence guarded the interests of English Catholics with
unswerving fidelity and zeal during the entire of the present
century. When the cowardly Shrewsbury showed his loyalty to
the Ecclesiastical Titles Act by insulting the most beloved of
the Irish prelates, Irish members of Parliament were working
to secure the rights of English Catholics to a share or an
equivalent in the educational, charitable, and social endowment
of their country. When the father of the present Duke of
Norfolk could not find a seat in England, he was elected one
of the members for the most national of Irish cities. When
Lord Robert Montagu was hunted from an English constitu-
ency because he became a Catholic, Mr. Butt, an Irish Protest-
ant, representing the noble liberality of his Catholic followers, se-
cured his election for an Irish county. To express our belief in
the inheritance of the double dose of original sin in the shortest
form — we say that English Catholics were emancipated by Irish
sacrifices as fully as were the Irish themselves, although they did
what they could to defeat the broad scheme which O'Connell
*The orig^inating notice is the first proceeding either by landlord or tenant to have a fair
rent fixed. We do not hear that the landlord is condemned for trying to have the rent
increased.
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i897-] The French Expedition to Ireland in lygS. 99
maintained to be the least concession that could be accepted.
We owe to the intrigues of English Catholics that the religious
bodies are illegal societies, that a bequest or devise for Masses
for the dead is a popish and superstitious use, and that but
for O'Connell the paltry measure of emancipation the English
Catholics wanted would be the insidious and gratuitous slavery
of a state-appointed episcopate without an endowment. We
could understand these English Catholics agreeing that the
bishops should be appointed, say by Palmerston, the friend of
Italian revolutionists; or by Russell, the author of the Ecclesias-
tical Titles Act, if a state endowment had been secured to
them. A price would then have been paid by a Protestant
nation for the sinister services of Catholic bishops, but the
gratuitous betrayal of their flocks was, we think, an excessive
demand on those English shepherds of the people. Yet it
would be compensated for if the few Catholic peers could once
more take their place in the House of Lords — doubtless in
order that a few of them might rebel with more authority
against a dogma of the church. We should like to know what
the writer of this article thinks of the appearance and manners,
the hopes and aspirations of the Gordon rioters who sacked
London in 1780 because there was a possibility of some little
repeal of Catholic disabilities? Does this writer think that such
a repeal sprang from the liberality of his own countrymen, or
from some dread of the Irish Volunteers? He refers to the
expedition in which Napper Tandy bore a part, that of the
single ship Anacreotiy to which the desperate Irishman had
committed his fortunes and those of the exiled friends with
him, sick of the imbecility and fraud of the Directory's coun*
sels ; does he not think that his English predecessors owed some
emancipation to the menacing motto aflfixed to his guns by the
same Napper Tandy as they galloped through the streets of
Dublin in 1779? ^^ think these same guns and their motto
fluttered them in their dove-cotes of the Castle ; and talk about
them crossed the Channel, so that even a Dublin reviewer of
the future inherited some citizenship owing to their suggestive-
ness.
THE MAYO PEASANTS NATURALLY LOYAL.
We care nothing about this writer's misrepresentations of
the campaign. As an Englishman he can hardly relish the
Races of Castlebar; what we object to is the view he tries to
present — that there were no grievances under which the Irish
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Catholics suffered, that those Mayo peasants joined the French
in order to enjoy the license of their savage disposition uncon-
trolled, and that the present movement in Ireland, in its two
branches of social and political, is a recrudescence of the old
madness. We have the testimony of an Irish Protestant gen-
tleman* to the fact that at the time of the Gordon riots the
Catholic clergy of Ireland possessed unlimited influence over
their people, and were at the same time " cheerfully submis-
sive '* to the laws, penal though they were. If a change took
place in the attitude of the clergy and the people, or if the
first lost their influence upon the people in the succeeding
years, there must have been a cause. We are not justifying
the submission of the clergy and people under the penal laws ;
we are only stating a fact. But if that spirit of submission
passed away, there must have been some power at work through
the whole population. An armed descent of a few Frenchmen
on the coast of Mayo would not have attracted the lower
classes of the people, if these lived on friendly terms with
those above them. There was, no doubt, a revolutionary spirit
over Europe, and England had not escaped its influence. To
what extent the English people were pervaded by the doc-
trines of the French Revolution it is somewhat difficult to
decide, because there is a wide difference between theoretical
acceptance and practical adoption. That the Directory relied
upon support in England, is plain from the expedition to which
we have referred in the beginning of this paper. There were
men belonging to both houses of Parliament deeply implicated
in relations with the French, the mass of the Dissenters was
fully leavened by Paine's Age of Reason^ the agricultural interest
below the great owners of property was discontented. The
commercial and banking interest and the followers of the court,
with their spiritual and economic adjuncts of the church and
the bar, formed the loyal classes. We have the same social
phenomena to-day ; we are glad that the gentleman of the
Dublin Review has compelled us to speak plainly, and say that,
as then happened to be the case, a plutocracy ruled the
empire for its own purposes and was loyal to the throne. The
money-brokers were then as now an integral part of the adminis-
tration, though a new part ; they are now not merely an integral
part, but the controlling influence. The rise of this power be-
gan with the expenses of the American war, which every day
made demand upon the resources of the people ; it has been an
♦Sir Jonah Barrington, Rise and Fall of the Irish Nation.
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i897«] The French Expedition to Ireland in lygS. loi
instrument of every minister since, or rather a familiar, which
can only be appeased by concessions at the expense of every
other interest. For it black men are slaughtered in Africa,
starved to death in India, weak nations invaded and plun-
dered ; its influence is seen in a Jameson raid, an Afghan ex-
pedition, a Venezuelan treaty, an Irish coercion act. The
landed interest in England is upheld by its contemptuous aid
in the shape of subsidies to sons-in-law, and even Princes of
the Blood or their connections are its servants.
EFFECT OF THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE.
It is idle to suppose that the American war had no influence
on Irish sentiment. We know that it had, but even without
that knowledge we should have been of the opinion a priori.
We are, therefore, unable to understand how any man could
suppose that the insurrection of 1798, as a whole or any part
of it, was due solely and exclusively to French influence. An
Irish judge whose duty it is to assign a wrong cause for
every social phenomenon that threatens to disturb the solitude
of his country must find an external source — French influence
it used to be, American it has become — but in the Dublin
Review we look for light and leading, for something to encour-
age the Catholic people, who have been so faithful in their
struggle for education, for guarded public charities, for equal
laws, for economic opportunity ; and if the only way to obtain
these advantages be autonomy, to encourage .their efforts to
obtain it. Instead, we have an article full of bitterness and
scorn published without perceptible cause — at least we know of
nothing which has occurred these few years past, if ever, to arouse
the jealousy or alarm of English Catholics — and published at a
time when it was calculated to stop the progress of reconcilia-
tion among the sections of the Irish party.
The whole of the eighteenth century was a period of ter-
rible oppression and suffering in Ireland. The writer of the
article cannot efface the penal laws, of which Hussy Burgh, a
Protestant and a friend of the English connection, said to the
ministers of his day : You have sown them and, like dragon's
teeth, they have sprung up armed men. The story of that
century is crystallized in Olympiads of famine, in evictions, in
exactions of tithe, in rents " squeezed from the vitals " of the
people. The evidence is to be found in the writings of humane
men who told what they had witnessed, in state papers which
set down those calamities in the language of official extenuation.
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There can be no question of it ; consequently we may find
without seeking far a cause for the sympathy of the Mayo
peasants with the expedition of Humbert.
THE CAUSE OF THE REBELLION.
The fact is, that the rebellion was produced by Mr. Pitt's
measures of repression, following a great breach of faith
towards the Catholics ; and it is provable, with the intention
of forcing the Act of Union on the dismayed country. We
say that the Catholic priests all along exercised their influence
in favor of submission, and if the government had any concern
for law and order it would have found support in that influence.
But what could be done when torture was inflicted on their
flocks for any cause or no cause? Everything included in the
meaning of free quarters enjoyed by a licentious soldiery
placed among a hated and despised population was suf-
fered. So far as we can understand, in t^e county of Wex-
ford the only disloyal men in 1797-8 were the gentry. We
know of a dinner in which a dozen gentlemen of the fore-
most rank in the county expressed their hopeS and dis-
cussed their plans in the presence of a British officer in the
confidence of after-dinner wine. This gentleman, a Captain
Keogh, was related to some of them. He communicated to
the Castle what he had heard ; we do not suggest that he should
hav^ concealed the treason, but we think that he ought to
have stopped the speakers and informed them that his duty
would not permit him to overlook the matter. The military
were let loose upon the people, Catholic churches were
burned, villages set on fire and the flying inhabitants slaughtered,
women outraged as in Armenia the other day. Then rose such
characters as the Walking Gallows, that giant who placidly
strangled by means of a rope over his shoulder the wretches
he came across ; Captain Armstrong, who dandled on his knee
the children of the man whose blood he was selling; Sir Judkin
Fitzgerald, who flogged those whom he thought fit over a large
area of Munster until the entrails would protrude ; that host of
petty officials who possessed the right to try at the drum-head
whoever displeased them and hang him from the nearest bough.
It was boasted of by a regiment in the County Wexford that
not a woman through the whole of one barony escaped violation.
It was no wonder that the people seized their pitchforks and
scythes, and we do not wonder that there were some priests to
head them. Why should the recollection of such horrors be
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1 897-] The French Expedition to Ireland in lygS. 103
forced upon us ? We could have no difficulty in referring to
the rising of 1798 as an episode in the history of misgovernment,
to be regretted as such, but also to be taken as a warning to
governments and subjects. We could have shown that when the
Fitzwilliam administration entered office in Ireland, in 1795,
the Catholics were full of hope and loyalty, that the Presbyter-
ians alone plotted in irreconcilable hostility to overthrow English
authority. We condemn or blame neither Catholic nor Presby-
terian. It may be as Wolfe Tone suggested, that the Presbyter-
ian religion is calculated to make men ardent republicans, and
that nothing could reconcile them to the inferiority included in
an episcopal established church whose head was a king. This
is an interesting subject and we may consider it at another
time. For the loyalty of the Catholics we have no praise, no
censure. If they were loyal because they knew from experience
how hopeless rebellion was, we can only regard their inactivity
as proof that government had a good corporal security for the
peace ; but there was no merit in that loyalty. On the other
hand, if they were loyal, as every authority of the time says
they were, because they had promises of emancipation and
parliamentary reform, we can only ask our readers to judge
what credit must be given to a writer in a great Catholic
quarterly who would have us believe that they were ferocious
savages whose occupation, when it could be pursued safely, con-
sisted of robbery, arson, and murder ; and that as for loyalty,
they had no conception of it?
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AN ORDINATION.
BY MARY ISABEL CRAMSIE.
VOICE through heaven's arches rang,
" Rejoice !"
Responsive, myriad angels sang,
Rejoice !
The burst of song, with rapturous swell.
Divine, ecstatic, rose and fell;
Fell softly through the listening space
To find on earth a dwelling-place.
Before God's altar, bending low.
With heart of fire and soul of snow,
A priest ;
So freshly crowned, the spirit's glow
In circling radiance seemed to flow.
His soul the wandering echoes find.
Nor miss the heaven they left behind.
O heavy years ! O thorny way !
Your shadows reach him not to-day.
His hand within the clasp divine.
His wordless prayer, " Thy will be mine."
While sweet and clear the echoing voice
Thrills through his soul, ** Rejoice, rejoice!"
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1897-] " Democra c y and Liber ty*' Re vie wed. 105
"DEMOCRACY AND LIBERTY" REVIEWED.
BY HILAIRE BELLOC.
; NGLAND has had the honor of producing a
school of writers who have, throughout the
century, adopted a new method of historical
inquiry. That method was to some extent a
reaction against the idealism of the revolution-
ary period which preceded it. Possibly it also came into promi-
nence on account of the purely material developments through
which the nation successfully passed, at the epochs immediately
preceding and succeeding the Reform Bill. Presumably it was
also brought into existence to a considerable degree by the
growth of those great and novel theories which Darwin, by a
purely material method, ultimately imposed upon the meta-
physics of our time.
Mr. Lecky has ever been among the most prominent of
this school of writers ; Buckle's is another name that, in a
somewhat different connection, will occur at once to the reader.
Sir Henry Maine in the domain of political science, Herbert
Spencer in the domain of philosophical inquiry, represent the
same school.
Its methods are almost purely inductive. It proceeds to
collect a mass of facts under the explicit declaration that the
writer has no particular bias. When this mass has been once
collected, he proceeds to examine it in what he calls the most
impartial spirit. Then and only then the writer determines
upon some theory which he is now in a position to say ex-
plains these various phenomena.
To the younger men of the present day, the chief interest
of this melancholy episode in the history of intellectual effort
is to watch its obvious decay and the ludicrous final attempts
to bolster it up in our modern literature. The books of a
type which at one time were capable of profoundly moving
the thoughts of the universities, have been succeeded by books
of a similar type, which merely produce weariness and a demand
for definite ideal and for clear principle.
It might have been supposed a priori that a method so
different from the actual workings of the human mind would
never have a permanent success. It might have been imagined
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io6 ^'Democracy and Liberty*' Reviewed. [Oct.,
(without waiting for time to give the proof) that it was convic-
tion, faith, principle — what you will — which really formed with
these writers, as with all others, the motive of inquiry; and that
the facts they collected, for all their protestations of an unbiased
mind, were nothing but the carefully edited proofs of a pre-
viously conceived theory.
The fact which might, we say, have been imagined in any
case has been most convincingly proved in the last efforts of
this school, and in none more convincingly than in Mr. Lecky's
book on " Democracy and Liberty."
Just as Sir Henry Maine shows his hand in the " Demo-
cracy " after his careful attempts to veil it in the " Ancient
Law " ; just as Mr. Herbert Spencer has appeared as a militant
and not over-rational materialist in political science, after the
many protestations of an open mind in the "Sociology," so
Mr. Lecky follows up the " open mind " of his history of the
eighteenth century with the unhappy exposition of prejudice,
and of facts carefully edited to exhibit that prejudice, in the
" Democracy and Liberty."
What is the meaning of the democratic movement of our
century? Is it a revival of the old states of the Mediterran-
ean basin in the pre-Christian time ? Is it a reaction towards
the sublime ideals of self-government based upon high indi-
vidual character, which formed the glory of the thirteenth cen-
tury ? Is it a natural and blind evolution of the economic
circumstances of to-day? Is it the mere result of the immense
increase of population swamping the older traditions of the
nations? To all of these fundamental questions Mr. Lecky
offers no reply. That prime factor in the evolution of the
modern state, the Industrial Revolution, passes through the
whole of Mr. Lecky's book without one clear acknowledgment.
Some light as to the character of the men who led the re-
form, some analysis of a Charles James Fox, of a Jefferson, of
a Danton ; some guide, however paltry and insufficient, to the
determination of the quality of the revolutionary ideal, might
surely have been afforded ! It is simply omitted ; and we have
in its place, running throughout the work, a querulous complaint
against democracy as it is, without any appreciation of its
transitional quality, without any forecast of the stupendous
effects which the centralization of capital, on the one hand, or
its better repartition, on the other, might effect.
We are given the impression that Mr. Lecky personally does
not like to see men of education or of material interests less
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1 897.] " Democra c y AND Liber ty" Re vie wed. . 107
than that of his own class possessed of any political power; and
a huge volume of more or less disconnected facts, and even of
contradictory interpretations, is arraigned as the basis of his
complaint.
In an article so short as the present review it is impossible to
do more than give a few characteristic instances of this, but these
should be sufficient to prove the main contention of our thesis.
First, let us take the passage in which Mr. Lecky deplores
the attack upon the English landed aristocracy. What is one
of his main arguments in favor of its continuance ? Is it the
statesman-like appreciation of the importance of a continuous
body of men bound up with local government and dispersing
the already sadly concentrated populations of our time ? Is it
something based upon the strong argument of the immorality
of touching private property ? These certainly enter into his
arguments, but side by side with them, and of equal importance,
is the ridiculous plea for a class "which can be early trained
in the exercise of hospitality " ! Could anything be more hope-
lessly the result of a personal bias? Does Mr. Lecky imagine
that the slipshod and not over well-bred hospitality of an Eng-
lish country-house is the best type of good feeling to be found
in modern England ? Does he know nothing of the home of a
cultured merchant, of professional and non-territorial houses?
He should, for no small part of his advancement was due to
the fact that he, an Irish landlord, was taken up by the middle
class Liberal leaders of the '40*s and '50's.
Again, Mr. Lecky tells us that the votes exercised by the
ignorant mass of a newly enfranchised electorate do not repre-
sent the national feeling, but are merely the chance action of
a whim or of some petty material interest ; and then he tells us
in another place that the great heart of England rose in a re-
cent election and swept away the Home-Rule Bill !
Again, Mr. Lecky characterizes, with full bias, the efforts to
destroy the unjust and the unhistorical power of the landed
classes in Ireland. He talks of their property as though it had
the absolute quality of uncontested personal property. He
must surely know that such a presentation of the Irish village
community is a wilfully false one. The writer of England in
the Eighteenth Century cannot be ignorant of the fact that there
has been, during the short time that this unjust aggression upon
national rights has existed, a continuous protest against its
continued exercise, and that a man might as well talk of his
absolute immunity from an old debt that had constantly been
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io8 Purple Aster. [Oct.,
pressed, as of the absolute property of a Smith Barry or a
Clanricard in his land.
In fine, though the name is great and the authority attach-
ing to it is enormous ; though the man is of the highest culture,
and possesses the most profound knowledge of the details of
recent history, we may surely borrow from the methods of
his own school a sufficient contempt for authority and a suffi-
cient independence of judgment to conclude that this book is
rather the proof of the failure of his methods than a work
from which the younger minds, and the justly eager minds, of
our time can draw any definite conclusions as to what our
modern state is, will be, or should be.
PURPLE ASTER.
now to earth the wintry shadows near,
Thy purple tints reflect the doleful light
That flickers soft above the spot where blight
Hath carved queenly Autumn's sepulchre.
Thou ! last of blooms below, sweet Aster dear.
In vain I plead with roses, lilies white —
Those blossomed sympathies — to glad thy sight
So wooed of Solitude's unfettered tear.
As coppice violets immerse the shore
Of Spring in petal-waves of limpid blue.
So let thy crests of color o'er me flow.
Oh, what a prophecy of light before
The dawn art thou ! For, lo ! thy sombre hue
Forestalls the fairer blossoming of snow.
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1897.J The Art of Lying. 109
THE ART OF LYING.
BY LELIA HARDIN BUGG.
NE of the strongest feelings of my childish heart
was a love of truth. With me it was not a virtue
but an inborn characteristic, reflecting no more cre-
dit than would the talent for sculpture or languages
with which some highly gifted children are en-
dowed by the good angels at their entrance on the stage called life.
The very word falsehood — I never said lie even in thought,
for that represented the abyss of vulgarity as well as depravity
—conveyed depths of horror simply unfathomable. It was the
one thing of which no absolution could ever make one entirely
free, because it was a stain on the honor as well as on the soul.
I thought one might be very naughty, and by repentance and
a firm though fragile resolution to sin no more, be forgiven ;
but — a falsehood ! One might get well of the fever and be the
same as ever, but of the small-pox the marks would remain no
matter what one did.
" The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth,**
was an article of my youthful creed as firm, I believed, as the
pyramids. As I grew older this was modified to " the truth
always, but not always the whole truth." I was gradually ini-
tiated into the mysteries of conventional "taradiddles** — a
phrase adapted probably from the Sanscrit. I learned that
" not at home ** meant simply not at home to the person call-
ing; that pleasure expressed at a visit or delight over a pre-
sent, when the present was not wanted and the visit a nuisance,
was only " politeness,*' and of course everybody, and especially
little girls, must be polite. Then, when I passed into long
frocks and the possession of real hair-pins, the mysteries of
ethics were unfolded to me, and I learned all about mental
reservations, natural secrets, secrets of trust, and the keeping
of one*s own affairs to one's self, till it seemed to me that one
might be on the borderland of falsehood every day and still be
literally truthful. The most dreadful and blood-curdling ethical
problems presented themselves to my imagination. I heard all
about the monk, pursued on the heinous charge of being a
Christian, who turned and walked towards his pursuers, and
when interrogated about the object of their quest declared, with
perfect truth, ** I have never seen his face.*'
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no The Art of Lying. [Oct.,
In reading of the penal days in England, when it was treason,
and therefore death, to harbor a priest, I puzzled over the
problem whether one could not deny the presence of a clergy-
man in the house, and if it. would not be a secret of trust, and
I decided that one could say she did not kno\^ Humanly
speaking, it was reasonable to suppose that the priest was in
the underground chamber or the secret vault ; but he might
have been stricken with heart-disease within the last ten min-
utes and be then in heaven, so I fell asleep with the comfort-
ing conviction that had I been in the place of Edith Howard,
the heroine of a very thrilling tale of those times, I could have
saved my conscience and the head of my dear old confessor as well.
Of course, George Washington and his hatchet were old
friends. It never occurred to my childish imagination to doubt
that if he had prevaricated about the cherry-tree he never would
have been the Father of his Country, nor have had his picture
taken in powdered cue and a white apron, to adorn the par-
lors in the rural districts and to fire the ambition of good lit-
tle boys and girls to save their country. The discovery was
reserved for later years that the path of rectitude was not al-
ways the path of glory, and that Washington, a hundred years
more modern, might have been asked to sacrifice truth, not for
his country but for his party and his party's spoils. Then
natural secrets and mental reservations were twisted into all
sorts of fantastic tales ; and when I got the opportunity to put
my hypothetical cases to a clerical friend, I was assured that
my conclusions were generally ethically correct, so that it really
did not seem such a very difficult matter to tell the truth.
And yet the conviction grew, as I reached slowly but surely
those years supposed to be years of discretion, that truth
as a virtue, or even a sentiment, was fast getting to be, with
hoop-skirts and Quaker bonnets and stage-coaches, out of date.
I see falsehood to the right and to the left, in high places
and in low, in Arcadian regions and the market-place, until I
am tempted to wonder if it will not be discovered to us, through
some highly stupid and eminently proper novel of the class to
which we are invited to go for ethical food, that falsehood is,
under certain conditions, not a vice but rather the highest kind
of virtue. To be sure, the reviewers have not informed a wait-
ing and patient public of the discovery, but that may be merely
an oversight.
Another illusion of my innocent youth was the belief that
anything put in a book was true, and history especially the
essence of truth. It no more occurred to me to doubt the
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i897-] The Art of Lying. hi
thrilling anecdotes of Caesar and Napoleon and Cleopatra and
Washington and Braddock than it did to doubt that I wanted
my dinner to-day and should probably want it to-morrow. His-
tory, according to the dictionary to which, in the absence of
an American Cambridge or Oxford, we appeal in matters of
doubt, is a narration of facts, and simple-minded ones among
us believe the dictionary ; but the documents in the case prove
the definition to be wrong. History is the narration of theories
materialized into facts by the art of certain writers, called his-
torians. Mr. James Anthony Froude is not alone in the dis-
tinction of writing fiction in the guise of acceptable history ;
he is only following a very common example.
Recently we have been given a most interesting book, called
Some Lies and Errors of History. We expect errors in the
work of fallible men, but lies in history seem like a phenome-
non. At the hands of the learned author certain current tales
which have long passed for history are demolished.
Tourists have for ages spent reverent moments in the grim
prison of Tasso, and poets, from Byron to college freshmen,
have immortalized the narrow cell. Now we learn that Tasso
was never there at all. Alexander VI. and the Borgias have
furnished the most lurid pages of history, and after regretting
human weakness and growing hot with indignation over such
awful depravity, we now find that our sentiments have all been
wasted ; the tales are for the most part a fabrication which
rests on a journal of a master of ceremonies of the Papal court
— a most wonderful journal, begun the year of his appointment
to office and continued a year after his death. Even poor little
Marie Bashkirtseff, of our own times, with her candid and volu-
minous diary, could not match this post-mortem creation !
The Inquisition and Galileo are current coin ; the horrors nar-
rated thereof are not true, but a little thing like that does not
affect their circulation or their value. It was Tasso himself
who said that men's minds are ice for truth but fire for falsehood.
We pick up one book and find that Elizabeth, the " virgin "
monarch of England, was a wise, prudent, virtuous sovereign ;
we read in another of her intrigues and jealousies, her perse-
cutions and vindictiveness, and can only conclude that one or
other of her biographers is jesting. We read of the awful do-
ings of " Bloody Mary," and expect every moment to see the
very ink turn red ; and then when we timidly ask for proofs,
we find that she was only eminently human, with conflicting
currents of good and ill. One historian (?) lashes himself into
a fury over the Bourbons, till we wonder that the horrors of
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112 The Art of Lying. [Oct.,
the French Revolution were not redoubled and precipitated a
century sooner ; we meet with another gentleman enthroned in
a musty corner of our libraries who tells us that they were, on
the whole, fairly able and Christian men. We have shuddered
over a most dramatic description given us of King Charles
firing on the Huguenots from a part of the Louvre not built
until thirty years after the massacre. In the midst of our mag-
nificent preparations to honor Columbus, the man who, we were
taught as children, gave a new world to humanity and a haven
to the oppressed of all nations — the man who set out on his peril-
ous voyage with a prayer in his heart and God on his lips — he
was " shown up," to borrow an odious newspaper expression,
in one of our leading magazines as a buccaneer, a slave-dealer,
a pirate, a tyrant, and a miser.
Some day a writer will prove that our own Washington
was not a hero at all, but only an unscrupulous diplomat, a
cowardly soldier, a traitor in thought, and that will be the
last historic straw — our national heart will break.
Sadly, and almost with tears, we are tempted to paraphrase the
famous question of the Areopagus : *' What is truth, and where ? "
We can easily imagine in this progressive age, which never
stops and generally gets what it wants, and when we have
bureaus for the supplying of everything from a cook or a
grandfather to a congressman's speeches, the establishment of
a historical bureau where history will be made to order. We
can picture a school committee going in to leave an order for
school history : *' We want the French Revolution made very
strong. Give Louis XIV. as an example of vice and weakness,
devote a whole chapter to the profligacy at Versailles, make
Elizabeth a representative character and suppress Dudley ; give
a dramatic setting to the Huguenots, and throw a red light on
the orgies of the Borgias. And, by the way, leave the years
following the Civil War in the United States blank ; it is not
well for children to know too much.*'
We can fancy further this same committee returning in a few
days or weeks to examine the proofs as we commoner mortals do
bur negatives at photographers : ** Well, on the whole the work is
tolerably satisfactory. We want Mary Stuart retouched ; you
seem to have missed the malignity which we want to go with
her character. Rub out the spots in Voltaire and put a back-
ground all black for the Bourbons. In posing the group of
representative men, put Marcus Aurelius more to the front,
holding a torch to light St. Paul on his way ; give a full page
illustration to the murder of Hypatia; and oh! the chapter on
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the beginnings of Christianity you might suppress altogether.
It is so hard to please every one in this matter, and we want
to avoid all cause of oifence.** And then, with a bland smile
and a learned remark about the weather, we picture the com-
mittee filing out of the bureau and stopping for interior irriga-
tion at the first corner.
That men in the heat of party strife, personal ambition, or
temporal gain are tempted to do many things which cannot be
tested by the golden rule, we understand soon enough in our
education ; but to find lies bold and persistent is a horror
which dawns on us at a later stage. To carry a point by mis-
representing the other side and traducing an adversary, seems
worse than the practice, in pagan warfare, of poisoning the
wells.
I began first to read the newspapers intelligibly and with
any degree of interest during a presidential campaign. It
seemed strange and perplexing to me that the greatest villain
the country afforded outside the penitentiaries should be
allowed by respectable people to be put up by a set of vil-
lains, only differing in degree from the candidate, for the high-
est office in the land. But a love of fair play made me read
.the organs of the opposition, only to find that the leaders on
the other side were the rogues and the scoundrels, and the
parties of the first* part Solons for wisdom and Pericles for
justice, Washington and Adams and all the early Revolution-
ary fathers together for patriotism. After the election it was
admitted that both candidates were very worthy and able
men.
Since no one's reputation is safe who ventures out of the
obscurity of private life, 1 would like to suggest another tri-
bunal, officially founded at Washington as a sort of supreme
court, composed of men of the highest ability and most unim-
peachable integrity, before which any one could have the privi-
lege of presenting himself for a certificate of character, this
certificate to be left in the archives of the tribunal and care-
fully guarded night and day. Our' presidents after a campaign
might show that their past lives had been honest, upright, and
pure, their deeds noble, their patriotism unquestioned, their
statesmanship of a high order.
It seems like a paradox to imagine men lying in the cause
of truth, but facts speak louder than theories; a history of re-
ligious controversies will reveal to the most cursory student a
regular tournament of lying.
VOL. LXVI.— 8
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114 The Art of Lying. [Oct.,
"Maria Monk," the escaped nun, still lingers in the rural
districts of certain sections ; a high-school professor, supposed
to be learned, recently informed the youth of his city that
confessions were from a dollar up, according to the sins of the
penitent ; still more recently a popular newspaper correspon-
dent, who signs himself " Gath," told the hundred thousand
more or less intelligent people who read his letters, that in
Spain indulgences are sold, and that the sacrament of matri-
mony comes so high that poor people are compelled to dis-
pense with it altogether as a prelude to the joining of young
hearts and scant fortunes.
Grave ministers in certain sections still warn their congre-
gations of the encroachments of a foreign potentate, and in
glowing words and mixed metaphors, punctuated with the deep
amens from pious old deacons, thunder anathemas at the foe
" in our midst." When by chance we pick up a denominational
paper containing these tirades, we are tempted to wonder if
we really are living in the age of the telephone and the tele-
graph, the limited express and the elevated car, and the Asso-
ciated Press ; the age of Ibsen and Browning Clubs and Uni-
versity Extension and Christian Endeavor Societies ; yet when
we see these moss-grown slanders so fresh and so full of vital-
ity, we are forced to conclude that as they flourish now, so will
they continue to flourish when some lone Briton takes his stand
on a broken arch of the Women's Building to sketch the ruins
of Chicago!
Lies in every-day life are too common to excite much
notice. We are accustomed to bankrupt sales, to goods never
before so cheap, or* given away at half price ; to women made
beautiful by Madame Fraude's preparations, and the old made
young by Doctor Quack's elixir. Only the innocent or the
very stupid are deceived in the spacious verandas, the shady
lawns, the beautiful view, and the rich cream of the average
farm-house where city boarders are wanted for the summer.
Even the boarding-school prospectuses, with their full corps of
experienced teachers, their modern improvements, and the un«
surpassed advantages of their art departments, are accepted
with a full allowance of salt. No one expects a woman to
tell the truth about her age, a hunter about his game, or a
returning tourist about his adventures. Well-to-do women with
a penchant for appropriating other people's goods are called
kleptomaniacs; I do not know what euphemistic title has been
coined for natural liars. Modifications of this same trait, pre-
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tending to be what one is not, extends through many upward
ramifications of the social strata. In its higher forms it is
pathetic, and in all absurd. Miss Jewett's old maids bravely
pressing their dainties on their guest, with the effect of having
plenty more in reserve, come very near our tears ; the brass
logs painted to look like wood, with concealed gas-jets, em-
balmed in Mr. Warner's pages, call forth a smile.
I have always admired the little girl who, upon being asked
by a young lady how she liked her gown, the gown being
ugliness unrelieved, replied that the buttons were very pretty ;
her desire to be truthful and her desire to be polite were very
evenly balanced and the compromise most ingenious. More
blunt and more material, as might be expected, was the boy's
answer to the visitor at whom he had stared longer than good
breeding would permit. "Well, my little man, what do you
think of me ? " No answer being given, the question was
pressed : " And so you won't tell me ; and why. not ? " " 'Cause
I'd be spanked if I did."
Some well-meaning but tactless people seem to have an
idea that perfect truthfulness and perfect breeding canoot
flourish in the same soil. As a matter of fact, the people who
are the most truthful and sincere are generally the people
with the most beautiful manners. It is not necessary to be
always projecting disagreeable truths, like so many pin-thrusts,
at a helpless victim. You may not admire my gowns, or my
temper, or my ideas, but it is not your place to tell me so. I
may not care for you or your opinions, but I am not going
out of my way to inform you of the fact.. There are self-
constituted mentors in the world whp take a melancholy pleasure,
or at least it ought to be melancholy, in telling one all the
disagreeable things she knows and repeating ill-natured remarks ;
she never gossips ; oh, np I' She only warns — from the highest
motives of course.
A real friend wilj sometimes speak unpleasant truths ; but
the pill is gilded with so much love, and compounded so
daintily by gentle fingers, and made so small by admiring eyes,
and given with such a mass of the sweets of appreciation and
tenderness that we hardly recognize it as a pill at all.
Talleyrand's epigram, " Words are given us to conceal our
thoughts," has taken its place in a dozen languages, and yet
words are capable of such delicate manipulations that thoughts
may be concealed and still no falsehood told. A prudent man
will keep his secrets by dissembling. He acts as if there were
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no secrets to keep ; an imprudent one will simulate. The one
shuns notice, the other courts it ; the one merely conceals the
truth, the other acts a lie. One learns generally through per-
sonal experience that candor and prudence may really be
united.
Only a supremely stupid person will find a falsehood lurk-
ing in the conventional phrases : " The prisoner pleads not
guilty " — not guilty in the eyes of the law until proven so ;
** glad to see you " — planting one's self on the gospel precept to
love one's neighbor ; " dear Sir, or Madam " — dear in the
sense that we are all members of that universal brotherhood
of man which includes women also. " His Most Christian
Majesty," to the greatest profligate who ever wore a crown, is
only an arbitrary title, and " Defender of the Faith " is now,
of course, purely Pickwickian. We are all familiar with im-
promptu speeches prepared a month in advance — with the un-
expected honor, sought for night and day.
Imagine the racket that would be made in the world if an
automatic electrically charged cock were to crow every time an
untruth was uttered ! Bedlam would sink to a second place
immediately. A book has recently been issued dealing with
the fortunes of a group of men who pledged themselves to
absolute truthfulness for only one day. The results were high-
ly disastrous.
It would be interesting to study the mental operations by
which prevarications are justified — the mental reservations by
which they are hedged. Fortunes have been spent on Arctic
explorations, and explorations in other regions natural and
scientific, which proved of no great benefit to the world. I
should like to suggest to some ten-millionaire — we all have a
weakness for playing philanthropist with other people's fortunes
— the desirability of a fund for the investigation of secrets,
mental reservations, and lies. To find out, in a word, how lies
are justified to the consciences of liars. A whole psychological
vista might be opened before us.
We all know people who are naturally secretive, just as
others are naturally quick-tempered ; only in the one case the
trait is recognized as a fault and in the other it is nursed as a
virtue. The secretive man considers himself a model of pru-
dence and discretion ; he makes a mystery of his most ordinary
acts, conceals his likes and his dislikes, never ventures on a decided
opinion unless sure of sympathizers and supporters, and is not
above employing spies ; he is given to signing articles for the
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press with a fictitious name, or better still, to having some one
else, less important than he thinks himself to be, bear the
responsibility.
Serious indeed has been the effect of the spirit of falsehood
on certain phases of our social life. Our papers teem with
broken engagements, breach of promise suits, squabbles over
technicalities. Promises are lightly given and lightly kept. No
one is greatly surprised when a new cook fails to come, a gown
not sent home on time, a bill left unpaid, an appointment
broken. As a reaction against such universal mendacity in real
life, fiction is going to the other extreme. The all-compre-
hensive canon of literary art is : " The truthful treatment of
material." The oldrfashioned romanticism has gone out, except-
ing with certain gentle old ladies who cling to the idols of
their youth, and some very young girls who live quite beyond
the charmed radius whose poles are Doctor Ibsen and Mr.
Howells. Unfortunately, it does not seem to occur to some of
our realists that intelligence, while not so plentiful, is just as
real as stupidity, companionable people as commonplace. It
must be a perversion of mind which asspciates realism only
with something ugly, if not positively wicked. "A rose is as
real as a potato," some modern sage has remarked ; but he is
probably not a writer of novels.
It is a question whether lies are really increasing as the
world grows older, or whether they are only found out more
readily. Solomon's testimony was not flattering to his own age,
and that takes us back three thousand years ; while certain little
transactions which Biblical and profane history bring to light
do not square at all with our ethical ideas. It would be inter-
esting to know whether Marcus Aurclius ever encountered
what in modern times is know as a " confidence man "; whether
papyrus-rolls posted on the Roman Forum advertised corner
lots or boomed an Apian suburb ; whether small boys were
stationed by the Athenian portico to cry in the ears of the
philosophers the merits of somebody's hair-dye. If all the evil
that has been wrought in the world by lies could materialize
in one long procession, what an array of tragedies would pass
before our sorrowful eyes ! Desdemona dying, and the Indian
of our own times, stung into frenzy by broken treaties and
barefaced lies, would not be the least pathetic of figures in
the vast array. The procession of liars would be too long to be
reviewed at one sitting.
It is not given to every liar to attain the unenviable immor-
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ii8 The Art of Lying. [Oct.,
tality which overtook the Rev. Mr, Kingsley in the trenchant
pages of the great Cardinal Newman. The impugning of his
veracity was cause grave enough to goad the gentlest of men
into one of the finest bits of sarcasm in the English tongue.
Would that unwarranted attacks on another always met the
same fate !
The American love of fair play, when not blinded by preju-
dice, usually acts on the motto ** Hear the other side." For
myself, a perverse desire to know what the accused has to say
in defence, whether men or measures are at the bar, has led
to the discovery, which doubtless every one makes for himself,
that most questions have not only two sides, but sometimes a
dozen besides the right and the wrong side.
I have sometimes longed for a transparency motto, " He
who proves too riiuch proves nothing," to flash before certain
impassioned orators. We are living in an age of progress, as
college valedictorians annually tell us ; we are even informed
that the march of mind is commensurate with the march of
matter ; so surely it is not an optimistic dream to look to the
promising Twentieth century to inaugurate an era of truth and
honor and honesty, when Damon will find another Pythias, and
that highest of tributes be deserved by men — " His word is as
good as his bond."
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1897.] The Flying Squad. 119
THE FLYING SQUAD.
BY A PRIEST.
HIS summer I was walking one day along a
lonely road, near a small village in the moun-
tains, when I was overtaken by a boy driving a
fast horse attached to a dusty buggy. He drove
furiously towards me and cried out "Father,
father ! will you come and see my father, who is dying ? "
" Yes/* I replied, leaping into his wagon and riding off at a
tearing pace till we reached a white, comfortable-looking farm-
house, shining in the fields. I entered and heard the mao's
confession, but I could give him neither -Communion nor Ex-
treme Unction, because I was only a visitor in the neighbor-
hood, and the church and the parish priest were seven miles
away. After I had done what I could, I said to the sick
man's wife and son :
" Now you must send for your pastor to give Holy Com-
munion and Extreme Unction."
**0h ! " said the boy, with tears rolling down his cheeks, ** can't
you give them, father, for I think we have them in the house ? "
None of these people had been to church in years.
A few days after, while taking another stroll, I found a
family of fourteen children — white-haired, bare-legged, dirty-
faced urchins, the eldest of whom was a boy of sixteen. The
father was a French Canadian and the mother a Swede. Both
were still young and strong. But they, as well as the children,
were grossly ignorant of the very elements of Christianity.
The father, originally a Catholic, had forgotten the lessons and
given up the practice of his religion. The mother had none ;
and the children were only a degree removed from the condi-
tion of the young pigs which I saw wallowing in the yard
near the stable. Knowing that there were many Catholics
scattered through the hills and valleys of the vicinity, I sought
out the most prominent of them. He was a Canadian of Irish
descent, born and brought up among French Canadians, so that
his accent when he spoke English was a comical cross between
a Cork brogue and a Quebec patois. His wife was a French
Canadian, who had taught school in her early days, and who
told me that she could sing the whole choir-part of the Mass
through, ixovti^Kyrie Eleison to Agnus Dei inclusively, if I would
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I20 The Flying Squad. [Oct.,
gather the people in a hall which she named, and agree to
sing the Mass for the farmers. I declined her offer, but did
gather the people and say a Low Mass for them on three
Sundays. To the astonishment of every one, we had a con-
gregation of two hundred souls the first, and of three hundred
and fifty the second Sunday. They came from the hill-tops
and from the deep valleys. They were Irish, Canadians, and
Americans, some of very old stock. The Protestant community
was astonished, and the Catholics themselves were surprised at
their own numbers. But how ignorant they were ! There were
farmers' sons of eighteen who had never made their First Com-
munion, farmers and their wives who had not gone to Mass in
years. There were young people who, by constantly frequenting
services in non-Catholic churches, had learned the hymns and
forms of worship, and had lost the knowledge of their own reli-
gion. They had no Catholic books, no Catholic pictures, no
Catholic newspapers. Their life was without true religious influ-
ence, and they grew up like animals. Some of them had intermar-
ried with Protestants and become bad Protestants, as they had
been bad Catholics. These are our pagani^ stupid, ignorant, but
not through their fault. There is no one to enlighten them, for
the task is a hard one ; and no one yet seems to have a
vocation for this work.
Can we help them — these masses of our own people, scat-
tered in remote and secluded parts of the whole country, and
condemned to involuntary deprivation of priest, church, instruc-
tion, and sacraments ? Simple, good-natured, grateful souls they
are, if some one would only come and instruct and serve them.
It is among these that good books should be scattered. How
I longed for a thousand of Father Searle's Plain Facts or of
Cardinal Gibbons's Faith of our Fathers^ or of some of the old
tracts that zealous Father Hecker wrote in his early days, as I
looked at the upturned faces of these unsophisticated rustics
while I preached ! After a few days, I taught the boy whose
dying father I had attended to serve Mass. No city boy in
the end could do it better, and none could be more fervent.
On the first Friday of the month I said Mass in a farm-house,
and although it was known only to a few that there would be
Mass, a dozen went to confession and Holy Communion. I
have said Mass in cathedrals in Europe, and sung it when the
harmonies of Gounod and of Haydn filled the aisles of the city
church, but I have never said it so devoutly as in that shanty.
Meeting the pastor of the place a short time before I re-
turned home, I asked him how these people could be helped.
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" Send us books," said he, " and we can distribute them.
Catechisms, prayer-books, little works explaining the doctrines of
the church, small volumes of lives of the saints ; send us these.
We shall give them to the farmers, and they and their families
can and will read them." When he told me this I promised
to help him, and at the same time I thought how good it
would be if some of the young priests who ride bicycles and
are fond of mountain tramping would form a "Flying Squad"
of missionaries ; of men not satisfied with merely evangelizing
the towns, but desirous of evangelizing the isolated farmers, the
log-rollers of the remote rivers, the hewers of trees and the
workers in saw-mills in the wooded mountains. Besides an in-
crease of faith and piety, I promise those who may form such
a " Flying Squad " great pleasure and good health.
And as I have begun my screed by a sad story of ignorance,
let me close with one of enlightenment. Rambling among the
woods one morning towards the end of my vacation, I thought
I would increase the strength of my lungs by singing the
gamut in the open air. Neither human being nor house
was visible ; but suddenly, in answer to my top note, I heard
the tune of a familiar hymn floating through the trees. I
stopped to listen, and there distinctly in the solitude two ex-
cellent voices, evidently of young girls, sang the " Regina
Coeli " as it is sung in many of our parish schools. I hastened
in the direction whence the sound proceeded and soon saw a
farm-house, from which the voices came. One voice was a so-
prano, the other an alto, and they sang the whole hymn through
in Latin without missing a word. When they had finished it,
they began the "Adeste Fideles." It was strange to hear them
sing a Christmas hymn in midsummer. But they thought it
appropriate for all times. They did not know that any one
was listening, and they did not care. They were singing to
please God and themselves. The reader can imagine the holy
thoughts that filled my mind, standing in that silent wood
and listening to hymns that bring back all the associations of
Christmas and Easter. Here was the Grand Old Church assert-
ing her doctrines in the very forest ; here was the dogma of
the divinity of Christ and of the veneration of his blessed
Mother proclaimed to the very birds and beasts. I went to
the farm-house, where I found the two sweet singers, ex-gradu-
ates of a German Catholic parochial school, and refreshed
myself with a glass of good milk. " The Flying Squad " would
meet with such pleasant incidents of travel all over the country.
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can impart no information to be relied upon, is that it pos-
sesses elements of fancy, pathos, humor, and power to purify
the heart by sympathy with the moods, and strengthen the will
by the exercise of judgment on the whole life and conduct of
the fictitious characters that play before the reader. Some
such view of his mission Mr. Hall Carne has taken : he gives a
note at the beginning to fix the period of his drama and to
define the time of action spent in the books, and he gives a
note at the end to inform us that he has sometimes used "the
diaries, letters, memoirs, sermons, and speeches of recognizable
persons, living and dead.'* His object is plain enough : he
asks the public to take his novel not as a work of fiction at
all in the ordinary sense, but as a study of social problems
from the higher view of individual responsibility to God. When
in the note at the end he mentions that he has ** frequently
employed fact for the purposes of fiction," his teachings must
be recommended by such fact. That is, he distinctly puts his
novel forward as a reflex of the "last quarter of the nine-
teenth century." Mr. Hall Caine has collected a good deal of
information from the seamy side of London life, and we think,
though general, it is offered with as much regard to reality as
a newspaper report. But there is no enthralling interest in his
experiences of the low streets and the music halls, and why
we have them we are at a loss to discover. They serve as the
stage and scene for the young clergyman, Mr. Storm, and the
girl. Glory, to rant or speak naturally, to play their parts or
to live according as the author's histrionic pulse rises or falls.
It may be that in some dim way Mr. Hall Caine caught hold
of a fragment of truth — that the lifelessness of religious institu-
* New York : D. Appleton & Co.
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I897-] Talk about New Books. 123
tions, supposed to sway the mind and conscience of great masses
of men, kills faith in the institutions first and in all religion
afterwards, unless in some few hearts — unless in five good men
like those asked for in the Cities of the Plain, or the seven
thousand that worshipped God amid the backsliding of Israel.
It is on such a fragment of truth suspended in the air,
isolated as a lonely cloud and for practical speculation just as
solid, that the author erects his work. Still, if the characters
were drawn with force and fidelity, and if there were some
sort of proportion between motive and action, an artistic rela-
tion between character and setting — that is, between each life
and the world of the book, we might have a work of fiction as
well as an illustrated philosophy. We have neither.
The book opens with the sailing of the steamship that plied
between Douglas, the capital of the Isle of Man, and Liver-
pool. Mr. Hall Caine, it may be interposed, lives in the Isle
of Man, and dates the note from a place in it, Gruba Castle.
There are three persons, two of whom are Mr. Storm and
Glory, on the deck of the Tynwald^ the steamer about to sail ;
the third, Parson Quayle, Glory's grandfathe?r, seeing them off.
Mr. Storm — or, as he should be presented, the Honorable and-
Rev. John Storm, is the son of Lord Storm, who is a peer in
his own right, whatever that may mean, and the nephew of
the Earl of Erin, Prime Minister. The earl is the elder brother
of the lord, and one way or another we are rather reminded
of Victor Hugo's curious titles and confusions of English no-
bility in the Man who Laughs^ but indeed we are reminded of
nothing else in that wonderful work. The opening scene is
not ineffective, and probably owes the successful mounting to
the fact that the writer had often witnessed a similar one, when
the vessel was about to start on its trip to Liverpool. Here
we have Glory for the first time. She is sixteen years of age,
somewhat developed" in secular wisdom and physique, and may
represent a product of the Isle of Man ; but we can only put
her down at this interview as a forward, vulgar young person,
and not a clever girl with audacious wit, as Mr. Hall Caine
intends her to be. Parson Quayle bids his grandchild and her
young and reverend protector good-by, goes on shore, and the
steamer throbs away from the white water that seems to fly
from her. We may dismiss the grandfather, who has not a
touch of interest in him — he is a mawkish old dotard ; but Mr.
Hall Caine would try and make us believe him a man whose
advanced years typified all that was dignified, amiable, and
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124 Talk about New Books. [Oct.,
wise in age. Mr. Storm we cannot dispose of so lightly, for
he is the wizard and the spirit, both in one, by which the
author works his wonders.
With the utter improbability of Lord Storm's life since the
birth of John, as springing from the motives found for him by
the author, we need not deal — it is bizarre, grotesque, anything
but natural — and in this life and its counsels we have the
moulding nf John's character and the explanation of his life.
It cannot be too strongly insisted upon that the improbable
has no place in fiction. We mean in fiction written according
to the rules of art which have their foundation in immutable
principles of human nature. The paradox, which we understand
newspaper-men, mantua-makers, and medical students who read
novels are so fond of expressing — "Truth is stranger than
fiction " — is a testimony to the soundness of the principle as a
canon of taste. Now, there is no explanation of John's, life
in his father's life of selfish isolation, any more than in the
maxims which he propounded for the guidance of the young man.
We pass by the early relations between him and Glory —
those during her childhood and the dawn of girlhood — which
are told with some, vigor, and shall go at once to Storm in
his first curacy in London. He has undertaken the charge of
Glory, who, young as she is, is accepted as a probationer for
the office of hospital nurse. She loves him and he loves her ;
but at a critical period for her amid the snares and temptations
of London, he enters an Anglican monastery and leaves her un-
protected. This is the cold statement of the manner in which
he fulfils the trust repo.sed in him by the girl's grandfather,
and realizes his own ideals of the sacredness of love, the
claims of a soul dependent on his counsel and protection,
the demands of duty on the heart and intellect. It is in vain
that Mr. Hall Caine views him as a man pure, lofty, and single-
minded ; he shows himself an ill-tempered, shallow, conceited
egotist, and not the less so that he proves himself a fool. We
can understand the rector Canon Wealthy — name too sugges-
tive of an a.bstraction — to whom riches and society and a com-
fortable religion fill the measure of life. He does not want to
mend the age, he does not trouble himself about the hideous
facts of a dissolving society; he is content to go to heaven in
a coach and four, and possibly regards his place there as a kind
pf bishopric to compensate him for the mitre he failed to
obtain on earth. But Storm is a Boanerges without thunder, a
prophet who mistakes hysterics for zeal. He pours himself out
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1897.] Talk about New Books. 125
on London sin and misery with the passion of Jonas, he reads
the great city's doom, but the citizens are unappalled. They
cannot see what is so plain to him, and we rather sympathize
with them in their blindness, as we hold that men are not
required by any law of the emotions to take bathos for inspira-
tion. For instance, when he informs Mrs. Calendar that he
intends ** to tell Society over again, it is an organized hypocrisy
for the pursuit and demoralization of woman, and the Church
that bachelorhood is not celibacy, and polygamy is against the
laws of God ; to look and search for the beaten and broken
who lie scattered and astray in our bewildered cities, and
to protect them and shelter them whatever they are, how-
ever low they have fallen, because they are my sisters and I
love them," we give him credit for good motives, but we can-
not help thinking him windy and boastful ; that he is all words ;
though the good old Scotchwoman seems to believe he is as
the voice crying in the wilderness that drew all to hear, and
not a voice listened to by a man out of employment, three
idle women, and five small boys, in a corner like a place aside
from the traffic.
We cannot deny there are flashes of true manhood and
womanhood here and there from the badly-jointed and not
"all-compact" characters he furnishes. Storm's jealousy is
truthful, and the impulse to kill Glory under the idea that he
would thereby save her soul, has genius in it. " I thought it
was God's voice ; it was the devil's " — as if throwing off a
madness that had been gradually working its way into his
brain. But where we have Mr. Hall Caine in his most signal
instance of unfitness for work such as he has attempted is in
his report of John Storm's message on the Derby Day. We
know how Nineveh was affected by the prophet's iteration of
the few words of doom, the refrain of a denunciation sounding
through the infinitudes and irreversible for ever; and when
we contrast with that cry the minutes-from-the-last-meeting-
like commencement of Storm's message to the wicked, we
can only wonder that men of intelligence should try their hand
on the working out of conceptions so certain to suggest com-
parison with the unapproachable.
We are sure that the novel will interest many, and we con-
sider that the author possesses remarkable powers of description,
apart from the relation of scene to character. Glory's letters,
as we have already hinted, are dull and flippant, though intended
to be witty and graceful, elaborated obviously where their pur-
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126 Talk about New Books. [Oct.,
pose is to flash out the splendid audacity of the writer; and in
truth Glory has this audacity in the artistic sense, for she is a
real woman, wild, attractive, and eminently natural at times.
The life story of Brother Azarias* could not be better told
than it is by Dr. Smith. He possessed special qualifications
for the task. A personal friend of Azarias, he was nearer to him
than the writer who ordinarily executes this class of work ; a
literary man and a priest, he should know something of the
ac^ipns and reactions that fill so large and trying a part of the
life of the religious who is a literary man, and, finally, his mind
is cast in that somewhat critical mould in which the bump of
veneration is not abnormally developed, although a rich spirit of
appreciation may be found in it at the same time. He very
clearly shows love of the memory of his dead friend, but the
attitude inseparable from the critical turn we speak of does
not permit him to say more than he would take from another
without some objection. Throughout the book there is this
tone of reserve, and it makes the volume one to be relied upon
to the extent of the writer's knowledge.
Azarias* life is of value as evidence of what simple strength
and earnestness can accomplish in the removal of prejudice.
This is a great step towards the instruction of our age. Men
seek truth, but it is hard to find it by the light of reason when
so many influences are present to obscure it. We have it
abiding in the world in the Catholic Church ; yet in this
country the vast majority look upon the church as its enemy,
the best among them believe that the church only possesses
that amount of it inseparable from any system which has,
even for an hour, won acceptance from bodies of men, and that
the good lives of Catholics are to be explained to a large
extent by a theory of natural virtue operating in opposition
to the tenets of the church. They are good men, not because
they are Catholics, but in spite of their being Catholics. Such
a man as Azarias, whose life and writings are the expression
of the practical thought of the church, helps to correct such a
view ; because he himself, with a clear hold of sound philosophy,
lived and wrote in accordance with that philosophy, which in
its turn is the church's interpretation in secular language of the
problem of life and of society.
The reasonableness of morality can only be understood as
something eternal and immutable — that is, something prior to
* Brother Azarias: The Life Story of an American Monk. By Rev. John Talbot Smith,
LL.D. New York : William H. Young & Co.
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society and independent of it — a rule of life to be followed by
Robinson Crusoe on a desert island, where he has no social
obligations, as strictly as the rule which attaches obligation to
his fellows the moment he returns to his place among them.
This is the Catholic attitude which the Founder of the Church
directed in and by his life, and which she is bound to insist
upon, because she is the continuing instrument of his life on
earth- He still lives on earth in his church, and the philosophy
of life which she consecrates is his philosophy. It seems very
plain that it is the only sound one; and with a simple truth
like this realized by a man with Azarias' power of exposition,
and underlying all that he says, we are not surprised at what
Dr. Smith tells us about the effect that his ways produced on
men who met him, and his essays on those who fairly read them.
He thought clearly because the fundamental principle was
clear, he spoke and wrote so as to convince because his wide
and accurate knowledge enabled him to see where the errors
of others' reasonings lay, and he did both with such a spirit of
charity that it was obvious he did not aim at victory but per-
suasion. So we have a very beautiful character amid the
aesthetics which are only lovely by convention. We have a
testimony to the beauty of the soul, which is a beauty apart
from the external garb, which owes nothing necessarily to
material conceptions of harmony, though these are the chief, if
not the sole, sources of the modern science of the beautiful.
From the conception of beauty within him, Azarias found in
poetry such as Browning's a grace and depth where others dis-
covered obscurity and want of harmony. It is more than
likely in such passages Browning himself did not take in the
full suggestion of his own thought, that he had only the
partial discernment of the truth he preached — a . degree of it
which every poet must possess if he stirs one heart or arrests
one intellect ; but to Azarias they seemed so clear through their
inter-relations that he thought all should see them as well.
The reader will be delighted with this biography. Even if
Brother Azarias were not as successful in literature as he proved
himself, we should be thankful for the affection which caused
Dr. Smith to give us this biography. We see a good deal of
his own frank character in the performance — not obtrusively,
riot unconsciously either, for he very distinctly knows the effect
of every sentence — and this gives it a great charm almost like
that of a conversation with the subject of the memoir him-
self. The effect produced upon Dr. Smith by his intimacy
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128 Talk about New Books. [Oct.,
with the man is reflected throughout ; so that we have a pic-
ture of him as real as Boswell's Johnson or Fitzpatrick's Life
of Dr. Doyle. Our impression is that Mr. Fitzpatrick never met
Dr. Doyle — could not have met him, in fact — but by the marvel-
lous power of assimilating materials for biography he was gifted
with, he produced a work hardly second to BoswelFs. Dr.
Smith enjoyed the advantage of close contact with his subject,
and we think he can handle materials left as skilfully as Fitz-
patrick. We have in the result a most agreeable, and in some
respects a very instructive work.
Just to slightly indicate our meaning, we refer to the chap-
ter entitled •* Table-Talk." In this Dr. Smith tells what Azarias
thought would be the great epic that should leave Homer, Vir-
gil, Dante, and Milton ** far behind." The editor and the sub-
ject of the biography were only discussing the possibilities for
such an epic. Azarias gave the opinion that the great epic of
human history would be a summary of the spiritual life : " a
soul carried through the purgative, illuminative, and unitive
conditions, and closing its career in heaven, whose splendid ac-
tivities would find some description in the poem."
There is a revelation of the man, with regard to his age, in
this observation, which could only be transmitted in the casual
utterances of acquaintance. No man would say a thing like
this in a work for publication ; the scoffer of all things is abroad
as well as the school-master, and so ridicule would kill it. But
it has a profound meaning. He thought that such a poem would
be the manifestation of the triumph of Christianity over a god-
less and material world ; in it he heard the song of the heart
so long imprisoned in formulas whose sanction was an irresisti-
ble force of social wrong that quenched the spirit of the just
and humane, and compelled them to close their ears to blas-
phemies against God and shut their eyes on inhumanity to
man. In bringing about such a consummation Azarias has done
a man's part, though great quarterlies have not thundered about
him, or learned societies of the old world and the new admit-
ted him to their honorary freemasonry. Indeed, it is because
he sought that consummation he was not noticed by them — no
more than, as he well pointed out, the whole circle of Catholic
thought was noticed by them. He saw how the men of science
and the literary men of great cities, the lights of the world
who knew so much, missed the great fact of the Church among
them ; one hand resting on the vanished civilizations of the
remote past, the other on the little child born in poverty and
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carried to the baptismal font amid the curses, the thefts, the
loud lies, the profligacy, and the race for wealth which con-
stitute the civilization of to-day. With wonder and pity he saw
these guides of a moribund world leading it down the primrose-
path with their sophisms of convenient morality, interested jus-
tice, complacent virtue, with their theories of legislative might
constituting right, their creed of free competition being the rob-
bery of the poor, with their apotheosis of wealth, their false
aesthetics, with all that renders that which is tangible to the eye
and hand the only beauty and truth.
We recommend Dr. Smith's work with confidence to our
readers. Those who had the good fortune of knowing Azarias
will meet him again in these pages with his wise smile, his charity
that spoke no evil, his rare conversational powers that delight-
ed ear and mind, and to others as well as to these will come
the ripe scholar, the sage and saint of his writings.
The preface to this book* is- by Father Rivington, who say
he has no hesitation in introducing it to the public. Coming
recommended by such an authority, the book must be a safe
one, and, moreover, it must have value of some kind as the tran-
script of experiences in the evolution of thought and the action
of grace, the combined influence of which led a minister of ten
years standing in the Established Church of England to the
Catholic Church. Historical conversion is, of course, a most im-
portant study from the ecclesiastical and political points of view;
but its utility to the inquirer, bewildered in the midst of contend-
ing claims, is not so obvious. There are minds so constituted
that they would be led into the church by the history of great
movements ; but there are not many such minds, precisely for
this reason, that as the basis for faith any useful inference from the
conversion of masses of men, surrounded by different conditions
from one's own, requires the most exact knowledge of the events
of the time and the power of seeing their relations to each other.
But there is one class of evidence which he who runs may
read ; and that is the honest account of mental experiences, the
unfolding of one's struggles, of his troubles of all kinds from
the contact of the spirit within with the facts without, or, as
our friends the evolutionists would say in their jargon, often so
unmeaning, the adjustment of the individual to his environ-
ment. How is an honest man to become adjusted to a great
injustice ? a truthful man to an established lie, even though it has
* Ten Years in Anglican Orders. By ** Viator." London : Catholic Truth Society ;
Catholic Book Exchange, 120 West 6oth St., New York.
VOL. LXVL— 9
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130 Talk about New Books, [Oct.,
its worship in the high places, and priests who eat of the fat
of the land and drink of the sweet and strong, even the sweet
wine upon the lees? We believe there are honest and truthful
men in the English Establishment, men who have no doubt of
their position; but when doubt begins and grows into certainty
with one, that one is in the wrong place, we should like
to know how a weak man's life is to react upon and mould the
huge mass of a fabric whose prestige is great and whose wealth
immense ? He must escape from it, or surrender his soul to
formulas cold andcruel to himself because of their falsehood, and
to the crime of insisting upon them as the guides to others in the
one matter which is the supreme concern of existence. The
writer of the little book before us is a witness to such a conflict.
There is a terrible, a tragic interest in this story of strug-
gle, the most valuable years of a life apparently blighted as by
some malignant power, but in reality controlled by God, until
the difficulties and trials ended in the land promised to all who
are obedient to his calls. The rest that descended upon him
when he found the truth is the reward below, and the presage of
the reward in the world to come if he be faithful to his grace.
In his first chapter, which tells of his ordination to the
ministry by the Established Church, he states that he was older
than men usually are when they seek ordination in it, that his
mind was open in the matter of doctrinal religion and the sys-
tematic definitions of revealed truth ; but that he was anxious to
gain a real insight into the system and principles of the church
whose minister he was about to become. We have his word for
an early tendency to think seriously of life and death and of in-
dividual moral responsibility. He was fortunate in clearly re-
cognizing facts of moral consciousness involving primary truths
for which the rationalistic philosophies of life failed to account.
This mental attitude, we think, is important in dealing with
his testimony concerning the processes by which his conversion
was wrought under the operation of God's grace. So far as
the naked facts testify to the quality and condition of his
mind, we see no reason, in the light of experience of other
minds, why he was not led to atheism, or why he did not find
in the Establishment the contentment of a respectable exist-
ence. Given the limited and rudimentary knowledge of God
and our relation to him which the facts of the inner conscious-
ness bring to the mind, this knowledge is only logically con-
sistent with a fuller revelation than the facts of consciousness
can supply. But men are not always logically consistent, and
there are some who, strangely enough, would find in so small a
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1897-] Talk about New Books, 131
degree of knowledge the pessimistic conclusion that life is a
tangled affair at the best, so hopeless a puzzle that there is
nothing to be relied upon except science ; and there are others
who would rest content with making the best of what they
had, treading in their father's footsteps to the extent of imita-
tion, even though they had secretly abandoned their father's
belief, and leaving to death the solution of the problem.
We have said so much to help our readers in coming to our
conclusion that '* Viator " is a valuable witness to the truth
that God has revealed himself, and guides his church in the
preservation and definition of what he has revealed. If there
be problems involved in the facts of the consciousness, if there
be a knowledge of divine things carried by them to the intel-
lect, and this knowledge only leaves a hunger in the soul, a
yearning for fuller and more explicit knowledge, it would seem
that God must have provided some means to supply such
knowledge. This, we hold, is the way to argue the matter;
and this is what our author has evidently done, although he
does not give, he has no need to give, us all the steps of the
process. The moment we get from the facts within the con-
sciousness, the knowledge of certain relations to them, we have
some law that condemns one class of acts and approves of
another, and the responsibility of the individual for his acts.
Where is the account to be demanded ? It is only for known
acts that responsibility to the external forum attaches; it is
more than conceivable that for acts condemned by conscience,
but only known to it, or at least not provable in the external
forum, a man may escape punishment in this life. But respon-
sibility attaches to his acts ; consequently it must be exacted
in the life to come. Now we are face to face with the mys-
teries of life and death, and the relation of man to God, who
governs these mysteries — man's relation to a Power that sways
all that is folded in them ; but we want more light, and we
think such a Power should, from the law of his being, give it.
He must be just : that much we have in the fundamental prin-
ciples of morality. We have it in the sense ^l duty we all
possess and from which we know there is no escape ; in that
spirit of justice to which we appeal in others, though we so
often violate it ourselves ; we have it in our admiration of vir-
tues entailing sacrifice, though we may not practise them ; in
our reverence for great souls, though we cannot or we will not
imitate their heroism. But we are groping in the dark; why
does not such Power give light ? The pale beam of reason
within me only makes the misery, the sin and crime, the suffer-
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132 Talk about New Books. [Oct.,
ing and sorrow darker still. Better the blind life within the
brutes, because not vexed by such problems of despair.
Consequently, it is to be expected that such light would be
given by God ; and we think that the system which says he
has given it is the only rational philosophy, and that having
given the light, it should be seen. We say that this is the true
Light that enlighteneth every man that cometh into the world;
and taking this fact of the coming of the Light and the history
of the church, with the revelations inherited by her from the
primal world, the philosophical test of a sound theory is satis-
fied, namely : Does it account for the phenomena we want to
have explained ?
Our author in this early time had, as he informs us, become
convinced that Christianity was the one power in human life to
ease the pain, to fill the void which lay at the root of all the
evils by which it is beset. The reader may perceive that the
temper of his mind was rationalistic, though he was no mere
Rationalist, and that to such a temper a narrow view of the
scope of revelation and of the direct continuous action of God
on the church would commend itself. To such a mind the
severe outlines of Evangelical practice would be preferable to
the stately ceremonial which seems best placed in "the dim
religious light " of Gothic windows, the forest-like gloom of
upper spaces, the long vistas of the columns, the solemn gran-
deur of a thousand years. Therefore he comes out with the
superadded credit of a hostile witness anxious to believe an-
other thing and tell it ; and for this and the other considera-
tions mentioned we accept him as a capable witness to facts
of an intellect under the action of God's grace. These facts
themselves are very consoling when we see in society so much
to foster the despair of the pessimist and afford food for the
mockery of the sceptic.
We are sure our readers have not come across for some
time anything more likely to interest and instruct them than
Ten Years in Anglican Orders, We have a chapter telling the
difficulties of his second curacy, another with the title, almost
pathetic — "Drifting." Here we find him on the right track,
having become convinced that in a religion so distinctly histori-
cal as the Anglo-Catholic it should be possible to ascertain,
by an historical method of research, what the early undivided
church had taught ; and he enters on such a method to obtain
the requisite information.
The remaining chapters are : " My Incumbency," " Almost
Persuaded," " On the Threshold of the Church," " At Peace,"
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I897-] Talk about New Books. 133
and we ask our readers of all classes to obtain this little work,
which we have no hesitation in saying will be found a very
valuable manual of Catholic as distinct from Protestant doc-
trine, without purporting to be such, and a very entertaining
autobiography of ten years of a life torn by conflicts of the
mind and heart — conflicts that made for him a very confessor's
robe of pain and fidelity.
A COMMENTARY ON THE APOSTOLIC FACULTIES.*
Of the value and importance of this work, now in its fourth
edition, there can, of course, be no doubt. It is by no means
something merely of use to those who are learned and spe-
cially interested in canon law ; but it is eminently practical, and
we may say necessary, at any rate as a work of reference, for
all who have occasion to use the faculties of which it treats ;
that is, to the great majority of the clergy of this country.
The cases in which these faculties are to be used are often
necessarily very complicated, and even in the simpler ones grave
mistakes may easily be made by those merely familiar with the
treatment of these subjects found in the ordinary manuals.
Numerous improvements and additions have been made in
this edition over those which have previously appeared, and
the work is probably as perfect and satisfactory as anything
which could have been prepared on the important subject with
which it is concerned.
To give some idea of how very practical this manual is to the
priest engaged in active ministerial work, a cursory view of the
subjects treated may be useful. There are very fully discussed
the intricate questions of matrimonial dispensations — questions
that are now growing more and more important owing to the num-
ber of converts received into the church as well as to the in-
creasing laxity of the marriage obligations of those outside the
church ; the important question of dispensation from interpella-
tion ; and there are also chapters referring to the establishment
of confraternities and the aggregation of the same. All these
important questions come more or less frequently into the lives
of clergy who have even an ordinary parochial charge, and to
those with the most limited cure of souls these questions are
often up for discussion in the conferences of the clergy. For
these and for many other reasons this Commentary on the Apos-
tolic Faculties is extremely useful to the priests of the country.
* Comment arium in Fjcultates ApostoHcas concinnatum ab Antonio Komngs, CSS.R.
Editio qaarta curante, Joseph Putzer, CSS.R. New York : Benziger Brothers.
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s fair to be one of the fads
les with a good deal of the re-
, -.,_ ..^ ..J,... w. istianity, and will attract, there-
fore, many of the intellectual moths. But all is dark within
and the other side is scarred with the burnt-out fires of passion.
We commend the thoughtful article published in this number.
The recent Catholic Scientific Congress at Fribourg, in
Switzerland, is commanding international attention. The rev-
erent spirit which animated the members of the congress in
their discussion of the religious problems which lie on the bor-
derland of science, as well as the profound up-to-date and ex-
haustive knowledge manifested in the discussion of purely sci-
entific subjects, show that the Catholic scholars of Europe are
fully awake to the great questions of tlie day. Social ques-
tions came in for a very large share of attention. It is in such
gatherings as these, when one studies the broad and progressive
spirit displayed, that one sees to what extent the master-mind
of Leo has dominated the intellectual life of the age. For the
first time American scholars took a large part in the discus-
sions. The University at Washington, young as it is, is making
itself felt in the intellectual and scientific world.
We shall publish in the near future a masterly review\of
the religious situation in England from the pen of ReV.
Luke Rivington. The movement towards ecclesiasticism, in**
volving a clearer idea of sacrifice and the need of a con-
secrated and consecrating priesthood, has been going on with *
ever-increasing momentum during the last fifty years. It has
intellectually and spiritually changed four-fifths of the Anglican
ministry. While rushing on with all the height and strength of *
a tidal wave, it has met with a rockfaced barrier in the Papal
Encyclical condemning Anglican orders. What will be the .
outcome? Father Rivington, and there is none more capable, V
will discuss this burning question in an early number of this i
magazine. i
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1 897-] Living Catholic Authors. 135
AUTHENTIC SKETCHES OF LIVING CATHOLIC
AUTHORS.
Henry Austin Adams was born in Santiago de Cuba on
September 20, 1861, and baptized on the Feast of the Circum-
cision next following, in the cathedral of that ancient Spanish
city. His father was William Newton Adams, of the firm of
Moses Taylor & Co., of New York, whose interests were
largely in the West Indies. His mother was Maria del Carmen
Michelena, of the old and powerful family of that name in
Venezuela. She lived and died a Catholic. After the death of
his parents Henry Austin Adams was sent to school in Balti-
more, and there received his first external impressions of Catho-
licism. He was educated by private tutors after leaving school,
until ready to enter the General Theological Seminary (Epis-
copalian) in New York. He was graduated with honors from
this college in 1892, and was soon after ordained to the- minis-
try of the Episcopalian Church. He was successively rector of
churches in Wethersfield, Conn., and Great Barrington, Mass.
After being a few months in charge of All Saints* Cathedral,
Albany, he was appointed preacher at " Old Trinity," New York
City, where he remained over three years. He then became
rector of St. Paul's Cathedral, Buffalo, which he left to come
to his last charge, the Church of the Redeemer, New York.
While connected with this parish Mr. Adams became con-
vinced of the divine claims of the Catholic Church, and resigned
his position in July, 1893, in order to seek admission to the
one fold.
Mr. Adams married, in 1883, Miss Flora Carleton Butler, of
Brooklyn, and a son and two daughters have blessed their
union. He had the happiness of seeing his wife become a
whole-souled Catholic at the time of his conversion, and, need-
less to say, the children are being educated under Catholic in-
fluences. Mr. Adams is now lecturing professionally.
Miss Lilian A. B. Ta,ylor began to compose at the age
of seven. She " lisped in numbers " before she was able to
commit the "lispings" to paper. It was as wondrous as it was
interesting to see her in those early years, when called
from playing "horsey*' or "pussy," stand up and deliver.
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136 Authentic Sketches of [Oct.,
"trippingly on the tongue," her last composition. If there
should happen any defect in rhythm or metre, she was the
first to detect the fault, and she alone was permitted to make
the correction.
Her mother generally com-
mitted to paper her lines, after
she (Lilian) had composed and
polished them. These com-
positions had so accumulated
that it was thought well by her
friends to preserve them. So
in her fourteenth year a col-
lection was made of these verses,
and they were published by G.
P. Putnam's Sons, in a neat lit-
tle volume, under the appro-
priate title of May Blossoms^ by
" Lilian."
While the child's most ar-
dent admirers would not claim
LILIAN A. B. TAYLOR. j^^ ^j^^^^ pj^^^^ anything
bordering on perfection, and while some, as might be ex-
pected, betrayed the simplicity and inexperience of the mere
child, yet others, even of those written before her twelfth
year, are truly remarkable, and lead one to believe that the
genius of Poesy must have been present with her guardian
angel at her entrance into this world of prose. Although
not yet out of her "teens," some really beautiful pieces from
her pen have appeared in our leading Catholic magazines —
The Catholic World and others.
Miss Lilian is of good descent, her mother being a daughter
of the distinguished Commodore Bullus, of the United States
Navy ; and her father. Dr. Taylor, also of the Navy, being a
cousin of the poet, Bayard Taylor.
In consequence of a delicate constitution and highly nervous
temperament, in her earlier years Miss Lilian could not, with-
out injury to her health, be sent to school. Her first rudi-
ments were received at home, at first under the care of a loving
mother, and later under the tuition of a governess.
At the age of thirteen she entered the Academy of Mount
de Chantal, Wheeling, West Virginia, conducted by the Sisters
of the Visitation. After a distinguished course of four years at
this institution. Miss Taylor was graduated with the highest
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1897.]
Living Ca tholic A uthors.
m
honors of the academy on June 13, 1894, when but seventeen
years old, having been born September 4, 1876.
Since her return to her home in New York Miss Taylor has
written some, chiefly for her own amusement, or for the pleas-
ure of the earlier admirers of her genius. She is now, how-
ever, naturally ambitious to occupy a place among the writers
of the day. She has all the necessary ability, and with a little
encouragement we doubt not that she will succeed in attaining
that eminence for which she is so well fitted by her natural
genius and acquirements.
E. M. Lynch describes herself,
"an object-lesson in Irish history."
uncle, Warren Johnson, an en-
try explains the anglicizing of
" MacShane " into " Johnson,"
and the previous arbitrary sup-
pression by English policy of all
historic, patriotic names which
had forced his ancestor — son of
that O'Neill who fought against
Elizabeth and was murdered by
Scots at Dungannon — to call
himself simply Mac (son of)
Shane (John). It is not com
monly known that at one period
England forbade the use of all
such patronymics as had historic
or martial associations for the
Irish. In pursuance of this sys-
tem, the dwellers in one Irish
district were ordered, one and
Green; in another, Black; in
in a recent racy letter, as
In the diary of her great-
Mrh. E. M. Lynch,
Warrenstown, County Meath, Ireland.
all, to assume the name of
part of Ulster, White. The
statute took no account of former appellations.
"Thus," says Mrs. Lynch, " I was born Johnson by the power
of England, but O'Neill I am by favor of Heaven ! *'
Another great-uncle was Sir William Johnson, known in
American-Indian warfare, and the " Sir William " of Robert
Louis Stevenson's Master of Ballantrae.
Mrs. Lynch has delighted in writing from her childhood.
At thirteen she was busily writing a novel which a merry.hearted
governess used to extract piecemeal from her school-room desk
and read aloud to the family, when th« juvenile aspirant was safe
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138 Living Catholic Authors. [Oct.
in bed. Later on she began to write successfully for monthly
magazines, but the final stamp was perhaps given to the char-
acter of her work by an interview with the then editor of a
great London daily, whose identity will easily be guessed by
our readers. Mrs. Lynch having written an article for his
paper which had been accepted, presented herself with the
proof and was sent for by the editor, with the explanation that
he liked to know his contributors personally. He delivered
" a most eloquent sermon " to her on the aims and duties of a
journalist, winding up with the query, " Is it for mere vanity
you wish to write? Or why do you want to be a journalist?"
She replied that she wished to be a journalist because she
would thus be able to ** help every cause she cared about," and
that she especially looked towards his paper because it was
always fighting for justice to women and justice to Ireland,
and she, in her humble way, was also fighting for both.
"Whereat the great man bade her go on and prosper, and so
long as he edited a daily paper made her free of its columns
occasionally. She wrote for the same journal under his suc-
cessor and for other newspapers.
Mrs. Lynch published her first book. The Boygod^ Trouble-
so7ne arid Vengeful^ three years ago. She has also adapted
A Parish Providence from a novel of Balzac's for the ** New
Library of Ireland," and a third work, Killboylan Bank — an ac-
count of how some Irish peasants and other characters con-
cerned themselves about " co-operative credit " — has just been
published in the " Village Library."
Mrs. Lynch's permanent residence is in Warrenstown, Coun-
ty Meath, Ireland ; but she is at present staying in Italy and
writing steadily for the periodical press.
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THE NEW SUPERIOR-GENERAL OF THE
PAU LISTS.
Rev.* George Deshon was elected Superior-General of the Paulists during
the sessions of the General Chapter which closed Thursday morning, September 9.
At the close of the last session the affecting ceremony of " installation *' took place.
The newly-elected Superior, seated, received the members of the Community one
by one, each one as he stood before him kissing his hand in token of obedience-
and receiving from him the fraternal embrace in token of the bond of brother-
hood existing in the Community.
Father Deshon is the last surviving member of the original founders of the
Paulist Community, and the superiorship fell to him by natural lot. Although a
man of seventy-five years of age, he wears his years well, and is as active in mind
and as vigorous in step as men twenty-five years his junior. He was born in
New London, Conn., of Huguenot stock. In his adolescence he was sent to the
West Point Military Academy, entered the same class with General Grant and
others of military fame, was graduated with distinction, and for five years was
professor at the Academy. About this time, as happened with so many of his
generation, the deeper thoughts of the religious life entered his soul ; he sought
for the truth and found it in the teachings of the Catholic Church. Desiring a
more perfect life, he entered the novitiate of the Redemplorist Fathers, and was
ordained a priest among them in 1855. After his ordination he immediately en-
tered on the work of giving missions, and continued to be exclusively so occupied
until the separation from the Redemptorists of the five missionaries who or-
ganized themselves into what is now the Congregation of St. Paul, or the Paulist
Fathers.
As a Paulist, Father Deshon 's life-work began in reality. He continued as a
missionary his efficient work begun as a Redemptorist, and became known from
one part of the country to the other as a preacher and instructor of exceptional
ability. The work of giving the early morning instruction fell to him on account
of his peculiar talents and his general adaptability, and thousands throughout the
country will recall with interest the sturdy form and high, strong voice giving the
five o'clock instruction, and remember the many touching and interesting stories
told by him, from " the man overboard " to the serving girl who struck the impru-
dent suitor with the fire-tongs.
Besides his career as a missionary, Father Deshon was always the matter-of-
fact man of affairs about the Paulist establishment at Fifth-ninth Street. He was
gifted very largely with the constructive faculty, and the big stone church of the
Paulist Fathers, as well as the surrounding buildings, have all been built under
his immediate superintendence. It was a familiar sight fifteen or twenty years
ago, when the church was in course of erection, to see Father Deshon in and
out among the working-men, directing here and advising there ; and if the people
of the Paulist parish can point with pride to a massive church and splendid school
and printing-house, it is because Father Deshon has had a very large share in the
management of things. His practical turn of mind very largely supplemented
Father Hecker's original views and Father Hewit's scholarly talents. What is
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I40 The Ne w Superior-General of the Pa u lists. [Oct.,
said of Father Deshon's talent as a builder may also be said of his economical
and prudent management as a financier.
Father Deshon's military training at West Point seemed to be so inbred in
his bones that it has become a marked feature, both of his physical bearing and
his mental make-up. The cognomen of " soldier priest " has had a peculiar fit-
ness in its application to him. The strict discipline of his early life has given him
a hardy nature, a brusque manner, an austere exterior, but under all this there is
the warmth and affection of a generous and devoted heart. To maoy, on first
acquaintanceship, he seems cold and severe, but once the external reserve is
penetrated, one finds within a cordiality and friendliness that are very attractive.
During the last years of Father Hewit's superiorship, what with a disinclina-
tion to interest himself in practical affairs, a residence at the University at Wash-
ington, and later on, the declining years of feeble health, the immediate manage-
ment of the affairs of the Paulists was delegated to Father Deshon, and his
election as Superior-General means in no sense the inauguration of any new
policy, but the carrying on with greater vigor of the special works that have been
already initiated by the Paulists. The parochial works, with their large element
of social betterment and their endeavor to bring to the masses the blessings of
the religious life ; the temperance work, which has in it the possibilities of the
social uplifting of the people, and other features of social reform so absolutely
necessary in this city if we would save it for God, and the people to a Christian
life — all these will be continued with greater practical effectiveness. Besides
these home works, the work of the non-Catholic missions, which have met ivith
such marvellous success during the last few years, will be pushed with the same
energy as in the past, and the work of the Apostolate of the Press carried out
through the printing-house, which was started under Father Deshon's direction,
will claim more an)d more the endeavors of the ones who have it immediately
under their superintendence.
If Father Deshon could indulge a little vanity, he might look back with pnde
to the special works that have been started under his direction during the last
few years. An article in the September number of the American Ecclesiasitcai
Rrview S2c^s Xh^i "the activity of the Paulist Fathers in the fulfilment of their
external vocation has radiated chiefly ip eight directions," and mentions these
eight avenues of work to be — ist, The preaching of missions to the faithful; 2d,
The splendor and exactness in carrying out the church's ceremonial ; 3d, In the
reform of church music ; 4th, In opposition to intemperance and the liquor-traffir ;
5th, In the elevation of sermonic stancjards and the encouragement of Catholic
literature ; 6th, The Apdstolate of the Press, represented by their printing-house,
which during the last year sent out over a million books, pamphlets, etc. 7th,
The preaching of missions to non-Catholics ; 8th, The formation of the Catholic
Missionary Union and the publication of The Missionary, its official organ. It is
not claimed in any sense that Father Deshon originated all these special move-
ments, but under his broad, liberal, and approving administration they have
grown of themselves and are calculated in the years to come to work out their
best results.
The aforementioned article in the Ecclesiastical Review concludes by say-
ing : " The Paulist Congregation is not stagnant. Not in purpose, in numbers,
nor in good works is it quiescent. It is steadily moving forward, according to its
means, its opportunities, and the co-operation of the rest of the Church in the
United States, towards the consummation of its apostolic vocation — the conver-
sion of noTi-Catholic America."
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1 897-] The Columbian Reading Union. 14;
THE COLUMBIAN READING UNION.
READING Circle Day at the Champlain Assembly was celebrated on August
20. Short addresses bearing on the reports presented by the representa-
tives of Reading Circles were delivered by the President of the Sumnjer-School,
Rev. M. J.Lavelle, LL.D. ; Rev. John Talbot Smith, LL.D., and the Rev. Thomas
McMillan, C.S.P., representing the Columbian Reading Union. Fourteen Read-
ing Circles were reported from New York City, while Philadelphia showed
twenty-three, with a membership of over six hundred. Rev. Morgan M. Sheedy,
of Altoona, gave an instructive statement of the assistance rendered by the
Reading Circle under his charge in the work of university extension lectures.
Mr. Warren E. Mosher, in his annual report, announced the gratifying news that
four hundred and thirty-six Reading Circles had been formed. His statement
opened an animated discussion on the best ways and means to extend the
movement. The fact was developed that in many family groups the Reading-
Circle plans are followed ; the same is true of numerous individuals living in
small towns and rural districts where the formation of a circle is impossible.
It was announced that the following subjects would be outlined in the pages of
the Reading Circle Review during the coming year :
Poetical Epochs,
Practical Art Studies,
English Literature,
Controverted Points in Church History,
Current Social Problems,
Scientific Studies,
French Language and Literature.
Any one desiring more information regarding the plan to be followed in
starting a Reading Circle, or in getting suggestions on new lines of study for
self-improvement, should enclose at least ten cents in postage and write at once
to Mr. Warren E. Mosher, Youngstown, Ohio. From him also may be obtained
sample copies of the Reading Circle Review, and the official report of the
Summer-School Lectures.
* « *
One of the most interesting reports was presented by Miss Anna M.
Mitchell, representing the F^nelon Reading Circle of Brooklyn, N. Y. It is here
^ven to aid others in forming plans for the coming year :
The work that the F6nelon Reading Circle has accomplished during the past
year shows no retrogradation, but a continuous movement onward and upward.
The membership at present is three hundred and twenty-five, two hundred and
seventy-five associate and fifty active members, with a waiting list occasioned
by the fact that our active membership is limited. The subject which received
careful attention from the members during the past year was Buddhism, con-
sidered chiefly from the stand-point of its relation to Christianity. Ten carefully
prepared papers were read by the members at the business meetings during the
year. They comprised such subjects as reviews of Schlachtenweit's work on
Buddhism, and Father Clarke's Essay on Theosophy, and the Abbe Huck's
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142 The Columbian Reading Union. [Oct.,
Journey in Thibet. We closed our year's work with a study of Edwin Arnold's
two poems, " The Light of Asia " and " The Light of the World," on which a
critical essay was written. We had six lectures during the year, which were
given by prominent laymen and clerics of Brooklyn and New York, and two
distinctly social entertainments, one of the latter being a reception to the Rev.
M. J. Lavcllc, LL.D., president of the Catholic Summer-School, and the other
was a reception to the Right Rev. Charles McDonnell, D.D., Bishop of Brooklyn.
During the past year we became affiliated with the New York State Federa-
.tion of Women's Clubs. We are the only distinctly Catholic society in this organ-
ization and joined it at the earnest solicitation of the officers of the Federation.
This indicates that the F^nelon has a well-recognized position among the leading
women's societies of the State. We endeavor to always keep in mind that as a
representative body of Catholic women we should preserve somewhat of a con-
servative position among women's clubs ; and while showing at all times a ready
and willing spirit to engage in any movement that will tend to enlarge the
sympathy of women, and call into play the noblest instincts for the uplifting of
our sex, we systematically frown down the blatant element, which makes
woman a spectacle for public ridicule rather than a refined and quiet influence
for good in the community. In this respect we hope to prove an object-lesson to
some of our sister societies of non-Catholic women. The Fdnelon is fast
assuming proportions that will make it, in the very near future, far too un-
wieldy. We were, therefore, pleased to observe during the past year the birth of
new Reading Circles in Brooklyn which were offshoots of the parent stem. There
is abundant material in our city for many circles, and if the F^nelon succeeds in
generating leaders who will take up the good work and form local branches in
different parishes, we shall regard these circles with a spirit of parental pride and
at all times extend to them the assistance which our greater experience, rather
than our greater wisdom, has enabled us to dispense to others. The F6nelon
stands out somewhat conspicuously among the Reading Circles for its rather
unique plan of organization, and its vitality is largely, if not entirely, due to this
system of organization. Under it each member feels that she has a governing
voice in the proceedings of the society. Individual hobbies must be kept sub-
servient to the will of the majority, and it is only by giving every member an
opportunity to voice her sentiments in executive session and seal it by a yea and
nay vote that this can be accomplished. Parliamentary tactics, if judiciously
used, cannot fail to facilitate the transaction of business. Like every other good
thing it may be abused, and it then behooves the members to bring into use the
leaven of common sense and administer the check that will adjust the pendulum
if it has swung too far in one direction. Organization is looked at askance by
some promoters of Reading Circles, because they fear it will cause the develop-
ment of what is labelled the " strong-minded woman." In this age of the higher
education of women, when even our Catholic University is throwing open her
doors to us and urging us to come in, surely no woman worthy of the name of
Catholic desires to be considered feeble-minded. Between the blatant woman of
the public platform, who keeps up a constant clamor for her rights, and the super-
ficial society woman there is a happy medium which might be designated the
common-sense woman. It has been said that " common sense is a most un-
common thing"; but there is nothing that will develop this desirable quality
more effectively among our women than a judicious method of organization and
legislation in our Reading Circles. The assignment of different matters pertain-
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1 897-] The Columbian Reading Union. 143
ing to the interests of the society to small committees divides up the labor and
enables more ground to be covered than could possibly be compassed by one
person. When the chairman of a committee makes a report, she is obliged to
formulate the information received in concise language, and this is of as much
educational value as the writing of an essay. She learns the value of promptness
when she is obliged to have this report ready at a specified time. Methodical
discipline of this nature is sadly needed among our women. The F6nelon not
only aspires to develop literary taste among its members but to develop all the
best faculties in the possession of women for the transaction of business matters.
The term of office is limited by our constitution to one year, and no officer can
hold the same office more than two consecutive terms. This necessitates the
development of new leaders who will be ready to take the reins of government
in hand at the expiration of each term. In this way we act somewhat in the
capacity of a training-school, not only utilizing for ourselves the talent we have
developed, but sending out from our midst zealous workers to found other circles
on the same plan. If the foundation of Reading Circles were solidly laid in this
manner they would be able to withstand the storms of adversity.
That is what the F^nelon has showed itself able to do ; and it has grown from
a little band of wavering women five years ago to a powerful phalanx of three
hundred and twenty-five women to-day, who stand ever ready to do earnest
battle in the interest of Mother Church.
« « in .
The Ozanam Reading Circle of New York City was represented by Miss
Mary Burke. She read the following report for the season of 1896-97 :
Addison says, "Reading is to the mind what exercise is to the body." To
determine how much of this intellectual exercise to take is one of the duties of
the directors of Reading Circles.
In the selection afid guidance of its studies during the past year the Ozanam
Reading Circle has had these points kept constantly before it by its worthy
Reverend Director. Some of the principles that have been inculcated might be
stated as follows :
Read something every day. Think deeply while reading.
" Learn to read slow ; all other graces
Will follow in their proper places."
Read so as to be able to reproduce what has been read. Do not read to kill
time. Mr. Henry Austin Adams remarked in one of his lectures that some peo-
ple are so astonished at having an hour of leisure that they immediately proceed
to kill it.
The plan of holding a public meeting each month, to which were invited the
honorary and associate members, has been carried out during the past year.
The circle has been entertained and instructed at these meetings by many able
speakers and lecturers, among whom were : Miss Helena T. Goessman, Ph.B.,
who chose as her subject " My Impressions of the Summer-School " ; Rev. Fran-
cis W. Howard on " The Development of Industries " ; Henry J. Heidenis, Ph.B.^
read a paper on " The Periodical Press " ; Mr. Alfred Young gave a masterful
interpretation of "A Midsummer Night's Dream"; and Thomas S. O'Brien*
Ph.D., at the closing meeting on June 7, gave an appreciative exposition of the
books and selections in a vast literary field which [would be most profitable
reading.
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144 T^^^ Columbian Reading Union. [Oct., 1897.
As heretofore, the social gathering was held on Washington's Birthday,
February 22, when Mr. John Malone recited an original poem.
The regular meetings were held every Monday evening, beginning at eight
o'clock and lasting one hour. At these meetings the members have become
familiar with some of the works of John B. Tabb, Richard Malcolm Johnston,
James M. Barrie, Mrs. A. Craven, George Meredith, Dante, Keats, Bryant, and
Hawthorne. The severer work of critically examining the book or selection
assigned for an evening's discussion was given to three members. The lighter
task of selecting passages for quoting was left to the remaining members. In
some cases a copy of the questions to be asked about an author's life and works
was presented to each member, so that if the appointed member failed to give a
correct answer, the others would be prepared.
The aniount of time given during the previous year to the reading of Church
History was this year devoted to the book by Brother Kizxiajs, Phases of Thought
and Criticism. Five minutes each meeting were assigned to the actual reading,
and the following five minutes were for the reproduction and individual com-
ments on the selection read. A clear conception of the purpose and scope of this
collection of essays is awakened by the fascinating pen of Rev. John Talbot
Smith, LL.D., in his recently published book on the life of Brother Azarias.
Dr. Smith holds that " * The criticism that busies itself solely with the literary
form is superficial. For food it gives husks.' . . . What a contrast to this
spirit and method does the Phases of Thought and Criticism offer! Topics
which usually awaken the hidden prejudices of writers aroused in this monk no
display of feeling. The spiritual sense, its nature and use, being his theme, he
lays down his principles in the opening chapter. He devotes the second chapter
to the reason, and gives suggestive paragraphs on thinking ; but he seems most
concerned with hearty denunciation of mental lethargy as displayed in routine
thinking, teaching, and studying. The chapter on habits of thought is one ol the
best in the book. With the essay on the spiritual sense the constructive part of
the book comes to an end. Brother Azarias next proceeds to illustrate his princi-
ples by seeking out the spiritual significance of three master-pieces — the Imita-
tion of Christ, the Divina Commedia, and In Memoriam."
All who would know the early social environment of Brother Azarias, its
effect upon his character, his tenacious adherence to intellectual work and his
love of study, and how accurately he prepared his criticisms of books, should read
Dr. Smith's keen and scholarly presentation of the life and works of that great
American monk, as he is called m this volume. ^
Aside from the regular work on Monday evenings, the circle held a section
for the reading of works on pedagogy. Those of the members and their friends
who were interested in this study met Friday afternoon, twice a month, for six
consecutive months. The meetings were presided over by Rev. Thomas McMillan,
Director of the circle. The aim was to encourage the thorough study of four
books, and by a close examination to select the most practical and profitable
passages.
The good that has accrued to each individual member from the many advan-
tages which the circle has enjoyed during the past season cannot be measured in
a report. Emerson wisely says : " *Tis the good reader that makes the good
book. A good head cannot read amiss. In every book he finds passages which
seem confidences, or asides, hidden from all else, and unmistakably meant for
his ear." ♦*♦
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Judgment.
Dr. Benson
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Famine in the Diamond Jubilee Year.
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Rt. Rev. EDWARD P. ALLEN, D.D.,
Bishop of Mobile,
Sometime President of Mount St. Mary's College.
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THE
CATHOLIC WORLD,
J\|o (^judgment lljay? ^1] (god, the dole
©f endless sinning of a soul! ,
I 0-day, to-morroW, for ev^ermore,
•A starless deep and an unseen sl]ore.
I \epentance — qone ;
^ust new sin when the old one's dope.
(giod Witl] a\?erted face —
(yod's sF|adoW on the race.
I errible is judgment — yeo,
But more terrible no Ijudgment ]^oy\
If I be judged, 'tis Well;
I he hea\7en 1 WrougFjt, 1 wrought the hell.
iDut if no judgment on me fall.
Worse hell for n^e, and Worse for all.
I he ^udge shall be the sinner's friend,
Who of his sinning makes aq end.
I errible is judgment — -j'ea,
But more terrible no (judgment i^ay !
James Buckham.
Copyright. Very Rev. A. iF. Hewit. 1897.
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146 Dr. Benson on the Primacy of Jurisdiction. [Nov.,
DR. BENSON ON THE PRIMACY OF JURISDICTION.
BY REV. GEORGE McDERMOT, C.S.P.
HE late Archbishop of Canterbury at the close
of thirty years of labor finished his life of St.
Cyprian.* He did not live to see it through
the press, so it comes with a certain melancholy
interest to the public, but spoiled, we fear, to
candid minds by frequent touches of polemic bitterness. In
the Introduction, which is an essay separated from the body of
the book, he shows himself at home in that Proconsular Africa
of which the Latin African was as proud as a Roman citizen
of the Urbsj which he truly regarded as the centre of power and
law.
If we had a fair history of St. Cyprian's life the work would
interest scholars as an account of the contact of a command-
ing intellect with the political and social influences about him.
Benson, however, uses Cyprian to assail the primacy of juris-
diction of the Roman See, and he founds his arguments on
some words which, he maintains, were interpolated into the
text and used by the advisers of the Holy See at the Council
of Trent. He illustrates his argument by a reference to the
ancient Gallican liberties, but the connection of St. Cyprian
with ** the ancient Gallican liberties ** f — that is, the so-called liber-
ties of the Church of France — seems as close as the union between
Nabuchodonosor and Columbus, which Max Adler weaves in
one of his amusing papers. But people animated by religious
prejudice will fail to see the absurdity, while the view Dr. Ben-
son takes of the principles enunciated in Cyprian's writings in
respect to a particular discussion at the last sitting of the
Council of Trent owes all its controversial value to his blind
or deliberate selection of an unscrupulous guide. :{: But we see
nothing of the formative influence of St. Cyprian on the Church
of Africa, though we are told of its power upon the universal
Church ; and we are bid to believe that it survives in the epis-
copate of the Church of EngFand. Yet, we think, if that influ-
*St. Cyprian: His Life, Times, and Work. By Edward White Benson, D.D., D.C.L.,
some time Archbishop of Canterbury. New York : D. Appleton & Co.
t This matter, though irrelevant, is most unfairly stated. \ Sarpi.
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i897-] Dr. Benson on the Primacy of Jurisdiction. 147
ence were powerful anywhere it would have been so in Africa ;
but the morality of its masses was hardly touched, so that
when the Moslems came such Christianity as existed became
easily their prey.
Of course the church had done work in that proconsulate.
The " unknown people " were among the population as in the
city of Rome under the twelve Caesars. . They were in some
way recognizable before the time of St. Cyprian, in Carthage
and the surrounding country. They Were peaceful and law-
abiding, but they stood in tranquil hostility to pagan rites and
observances. Before the public they were free from reproach,
yet the public believed them guilty of secret crimes and abomi-
nations. But coming to St. Cyprian's time, among the Latin
stock, men of wealth and learning were beginning to be caught
hold of. He himself is an instance of the kind. Among the
lower ranks of the Latins the faith was spreading; no house
without a Christian son or a Christian slave, until at length
we find traces of the faith even among the descendants of the
Phoenicians and other ra^es of which that population was com-
posed.
CYPRIAN^ THE LAWYER, ON UNITY.
The most brilliant lawyer of Africa, "nursery of pleaders,"
became a Christian and Bishop of Carthage. There is one for-
mative influence which cannot be denied to the great convert :
the power to define accurately according to the time and its
needs, and a mastery of argument in support of doctrine and
ecclesiastical policy which has not often been surpassed. In his
tract on the Unity of the Church and in the letters of which this
subject forms the burden we see two things very clearly — great
insight and great clearness of exposition. We recognize the
evolution of doctrine in the sense of unfolding as distinguished
from that of innovating ; we see that the views expressed are
the fuller statement, according to the time and subject, of what
had been always held, and not the note of novelty. If St.
Cyprian be right in his views. Dr. Benson was wrong in his
whole life as a clergyman and a bishop of the Church of Eng-
land. If the episcopate begins with the successor of St, Peter,
resting upon him as the foundation and the corner-stone, both
together binding the undivided b6dy into one,* what part of
the edifice is occupied by the living stone that now wears the
mitre of St. Augustine and St. Thomas of Canterbury ?
* This is St, Cyprian's view.
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148 Dr, Benson on the Primacy of Jurisdiction. [Nov.,
In the treatise on Unity St. Cyprian finds the cause of heresy
and discord in this, that men do not go to the successor of
him to whom it was said: "Thou art Peter; and upon this rock
I will build my Church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail
against it. And I will give to thee the Keys of the Kingdom of
Heaven." " Upon one he builds His Church/' * says St. Cyprian,
and to this proposition is mentally linked this other as the mo-
tive, "in order to exhibit f unity." To gather the meaning of
the passage, the words " and although he gives to all the Apos-
tlei after his resurrection equal power, yet," are not in poini.
They express a divine truth rather than an opinion of St.
Cyprian, but they are irrelevant to the matter in hand, and are
simply introduced by way of parenthesis, lest an inference
should be drawn that Cyprian meant the other Apostles had
no authority save what they derived mediately through Peter
from our Lord, instead of immediately from our Lord. We dis-
cern something of the lawyer's reserved habit of mind here, a
habit often calculated to suggest inferences of a kind foreign
to the question. That is, in his desire not to overstate, the
lawyer so fences round his propositions by safeguards that the
mind of the opponent may go off at a tangent. So much the
worse for the latter if he have a purpose to serve in treating
irrelevancies as chains in the reasoning. The forensic victory
is gained on the real point at issue. However, we have no hesita-
tion in saying ours is the true interpretation of the text, the cor-
rect mode of handling it. Consequently we wonder, with the pro-
ceedings of the Council of Chalcedon before him, that Dr. Ben-
son did not see this. In fact, he lost sight of a great question,
a great truth, owing to his intense desire to prove forgery, fraud,
and tyranny against the Holy See and its advisers in 1563 be-
cause they decided to retain a text deemed authentic in 581,
and which has not even yet been shown to be an interpolated
one. But suppose he established his allegations of forger}',
* " Upon one he builds his church *' is a disputed reading, but Benson admits it as gen-
uine. Clearly it belongs to the text. There is another reading : " Upon that one he builds his
church." He disputes the authenticity of the demonstrative "that." In another note we
show that the thought expressed in the line is simply a cardinal principle of Cyprian's teach-
ings. The undisputed text seems somewhat pointless. The edition of Erasmus leaves out
the words-; another Protestant, Fell, follows Erasmus. They are contained in Rigault's
(Paris, 1648), an edition carefully compared with ancient manuscripts ; in Pamelius and other
editors. Another disputed line is "The primacy is given to Peter, that the Church of Christ
may be shown to be one and the chair ore." These words are quoted by Pope St. Pelagius in
his second letter to the bishops of Istria, in 581— and neither pope nor bishops questioned
their authenticity ; this being so, they could not have been manufactured for use in 1563, but
to establish this is mainly the purpose for which Benson compiled his volume.
t Manifest.
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i897-] Dr, Benson on the Primacy of Jurisdiction, 149
fraud, and tyranny in bringing out that text in 1563, he would
have gained nothing, for the supremacy of Peter's successors is
a divine institution which cannot be effaced by crooked methods
of policy adopted by individual pontiffs or their counsellors, any
more than by lives badly lived by them. However, he has
failed in his proofs ; but more than that, he has used them
dishonestly in every way that unfairness could enter into the
presentation of proofs.
THE QUESTION WAS ON THE SOURCE OF JURISDICTION.
We shall see the grounds for the hard things he says about
the Holy See and its advisers with reference to a passage in
the tract on Unity. This passage he regards as having exer-
cised overwhelming influence in forcing the decision of the
Council of Trent on the question whether bishops possess their
powers as of divine right or of papal right. He informs us that
to secure a decision that they were of papal right, certain words
not found in the best manuscripts were retained, against the
advice of scholars employed by the Holy See to bring out the
edition of 1563. Now, the disputed words could only be of
value if the question were as to the nature of the origin of the
episcopate, namely, whether it was papal or divine. This is
what Dr. Benson tries to make out the question to have been.
But he is quite mistaken. The question was one not of the or-
der of bishops at all ; it was a question of the source of their
jurisdiction. The divine origin of the order was never in dis-
pute ; it was assumed by all as the basis of debate on the
source of jurisdiction, and if St. Cyprian's writings could come
in at all as an authority — and we doubt that they did — they
only came in as such on what was largely a dispute about
words — at most a speculative point of no practical utility. It
would seem to any sensible man that it is of no consequence
whether it is said the jurisdiction of bishops is directly from
the Lord or mediately from Him through His Vicar, pro-
vided that unity is secured by beginning with and resting on
the Vicar, who is Peter still, though called Pius, "the rock,"
" the one.** As we said, it is a question of phraseology, or at
the most a speculative one, though we may admit that the
debate on the point was warm ; but bishops in a council
are still men and are liable to excitement in the course of
controversy. It is a mistake to suppose that men will not
become heated on a purely speculative question. Dr. Benson
himself, critically examining manuscripts alone in his study, is
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1 50 Dr. Benson on the Primacy of Jurisdiction. [Nov.,
not free from that fever of partisanship; no, so far from that,
he permits himself language that might have been heard in
Exeter Hall when fools ranted about the Pope and the Scarlet
Woman, her seat upon the seven hills and the cup of her
abominations!
. EPISCOPATE LIKE A "JOINT-TENANCY."
Now, why does Dr. Benson lay such stress on this warmth?
Clearly that it might be inferred that there was a party in the
council who felt that the existence of the episcopate was at
stake, and that it was right in thinking so. There was no dan-
ger to the episcopate ; nothing but crass stupidity or a pro-
found regard for the temporalities of sees would say so. The
sovereigns were at that time, as well as at all times, desirous
that the livery of sees, the investiture, should spring from
themselves. The Holy See all along had waged a war against
the princes on the right. It was in maintenance of it that
Gregory VII. endured years of anguish and died in exile,
and that the great St. Thomas was assassinated — murdered
for defending the rights of the very see the temporalities and
privileges of which gave an enormous income to Dr, Benson
and placed him first of the peerage after the royal dukes.
There was no party which felt the existence of the divine insti-
tution was in danger, but there were men who desired to
please their sovereigns, and they may have thought, or have
tried to think, that their verbal independence of the Pope in the
origin of jurisdiction was consistent with their union with and
dependence on him in the matter of doctrine. For this view
no countenance can be found in St. Cyprian, although very
plainly this is the position which Dr. Benson's monumental
work endeavors to assign him. He quotes a passage without
grasping its significance when read with " the church was built
on one," a passage which he declares is the position concern-
ing the episcopate maintained in all the writings of that
Father: "The episcopate is one, of which a part is held by
each, in one undivided whole";* but if it be the position of
*This is best interpreted by such passages as "There speaketh Peter, on whom the
church was built " (Cyprian, Ep. 69). This is the thought running through St. Cyprian's
writings. In the letter to Antonianus he uses the expression " place of Fabian," meaning a
recently deceased pope, and explains it by the words, " the place of Peter and the rank of the
sacerdotal chair." In the same letter he makes communion with Saint Cornelius, the pope,
communion with the Catholic Church (Ep. 53). In £p. 55, to St. Cornelius, he warns him
against schismatics '* who dare to cross the sea " " with letters from schismatical men to the
chair of Peter, and to the governing church, the source of sacerdotal unity." Writing of the
lapsed (Ep. xxx. in) he says : " Our Lord, whose precepts and warnings we ought to observe.
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1 897.] Dr. Benson on the Prima cy of Jurisdic tion. i 5 1
St. Cyprian, it is no wonder that Protestant divines and scholars
of distinction find the Cyprianic doctrine irresistibly leading to
Roman supremacy. This passage describes a moral entity resem-
bling the legal one called by lawyers "joint-tenancy," meaning
that as the title in the latter case was one, so the origin in the
former ; as the possession was undivided in the latter, so the
corporate existence in the former was shared by each. Read in
this way we understand the meaning of the words in the Same
passage : " Yet there is one head," which is intended to be
the common origin of the episcopate, a title springing from
the "one" who sits in the "one chair" which the Lord estab-
lished to be "the origin of the same unity." That Dr. Benson
had some uneasy sense that there might be an interpretation
leading by another route to the conclusion we have just ex-
pressed is probable, for he laments that St. Cyprian failed to
see the "invisible church," the "invisible unity."* Of course
he did, for there is no such thing as an " invisible unity " in a
society of men, there is no such thing as an " invisible church,"
ecclesia, assembly on earth, any more than there is an invisible
Congress, an honest thief or a chaste prostitute. If the dictum,
" The episcopate is one, of which a part is held by each in one
undivided whole," were taken to heart by a predecessor of Dr.
Benson, he would not have allowed himself to be ordained arch-
bishop while the imprisoned bishops of the province were pro-
testing against thq authority that ordained him. Then Canter-
bury was separated from its suffragan sees, from the world-wide
episcopate ; and it was separated because its occupant chose to
build upon a king, or rather to receive power from a king, than
to build " upon the rock," f " upon the one," or to receive his
authority from the "governing church whence episcopal unity
has taken its rise.":|: Now, this governing church is the equiva-
lent, in the same sentence, for "the chair of Peter."
determining the honor of a bishop and the ordering {ratio, Oxford translation) of his own
church, speaks in the Gospel and says to Peter, ' I say unto thee, thou art Peter, and upon
this rock, etc' " To this point he is always returning, and when he asks Peter's successor to
excommunicate Marcian, Bishop of Aries, he must have believed that "the rock" meant,
among other things, a primacy of jurisdiction, because deposition would necessarily follow
excommunication.
*This is not intended to be a gibe, but the distinct effect of Dr. Benson's observation. If
the reader prefers '* grasp," he may put it in place of '* see."
t St. Cyprian's words.
t'* Principalis" means governing, and not "mother" or "ancient," very distinctly,
according to the use of the word by TertuUian, Cyprian's " master." We are breaking a fly
upon the wheel.
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152 Dr. Benson on the Primacy of Jurisdiction. [Nov.,
first four councils.
The fact is. Dr. Benson ruled in Canterbury on the term,
among other conditions, of accepting the first four councils of
the church. We have no choice but to say that the authority
of Chalcedon bound him to recognize in St. Peter's successors
a primacy of jurisdiction as well as of honor and precedence.
To another man the objection might be open that Leo's asser-
tion of authority and its unque.«tioned acceptance by the coun-
cil were based upon a straining of St. Cyprian's teachings, or
on an undue development of power not morally different from
usurpation or on any other principle of action, or from accident,
or from some mysterious source, or from any influence whatever
under whichtinstitutions come into being in this chance-ruled or
demon-ruled world ; but the objection does not lie in the mouth of
him who has taken the authority of that council as springing from
the Holy Ghost, and in consequence of that belief has filled a
great place in the social and religious life of his country. If Dr.
Benson on entering orders in the Church of England swallowed
this article while he did not believe it, he cannot be considered
a man of stern, inflexible morality ; if he enjoyed good things
for many years in important though subordinate positions in
the Establishment because he could only do so by pretending
to believe that article, it would seem that he could for a per-
sonal interest bend essentials to the standard of the indiff^erent,
and if when, at the end, he was called to the place of a high
priest and judge in Israel, he could reconcile the irreconcilable
in doctrine, we think he ought to have practised towards the
memory of Pius IV. and those about him some measure of
charity in construing their acts at a time of great anxiety
about and of peril to the countless souls depending upon their
counsels.
What has he done instead? He has taken up a passage in
one of the writings of St. Cyprian,* a passage from which we
have quoted one or two dicta already, and has put forward
the charge that the text was corrupted by the interpolation of
statements, and this was done by "princes" and ** dukes " and
** cardinals " and ** Roman advocates " against the protests of
" broken-hearted scholars." Now, the portions we have cited
are part of the text that he admits to be genuine, so the
alleged fraud cannot affect what we have said. But something
more remains: we deny that there has been any fraud in the
*On Unjty.
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1 897.] Dk, Benson on 1 he Prima cy of Jurisdiction, i 5 3
matter ; and we have already stated if there had been, it could
have been only to decide an academical question as to the
origin of episcopal jurisdiction, and not the profoundly practi-
cal and the divine one of the primacy of the Pope.
ST. CHARLES BORROMEO AND THE INTERPOLATED TEXT.
There can be no question but that St. Charles Borromeo
was the principal influence on Pius IV. in his cares for and
watchfulness over the deliberations of the council at this its
closing session, and when all its work had been accomplished
except the small matter of declaring the source of a bishop's juris-
diction. The Holy Father's health had given way under the
strain of great anxieties. If he should die before the acts of the
council were ratified, all its labor would have been in vain. In
the condition of Europe then it was impossible to predict
when another council could be summoned ; the Protestants were
everywhere fierce, aggressive, desperate, unscrupulous. Eliza-
beth a few years before had said to her own Bishop of Peter-
borough, protesting against the. granting of the demesnes of
his see to Cecil : ** Proud prelate, you know what you were
before I made you what you are ! If you do not immediately
comply with my request, by God I will unfrock you ! " Scot-
land had trampled the Church under its feet, France was drift-
ing to Protestantism, almost the middle and the south having
practically gone over. Northern Germany was lost, so were -
almost all the Swiss cantons ; and everywhere disorder, licen-
tiousness, spoliation marked the triumph of the new doctrines.
Dr. Benson gives St. Charles Borromeo credit for desiring to
restore what he is pleased to call the genuine text of Cyprian
by, we suppose, the exclusion of the disputed words. It is
as plain as daylight that St. Charles could not be a party to
an intrigue for any purpose ; he could not be a party to a con-
spiracy to foist upon a general council, sitting under the
guidance of the Holy Ghost, a false text to secure a particular
declaration. No doubt the matter in question was not dogma-
tic ; as the Cardinal of Lorraine truly said in his noble address,
it was only a speculative point on which opinion was divided ;
but there would have been an impiety nothing short of sacri-
legious to attempt what Dr. Benson insists Pius IV. and his
advisers accomplished, even though the point was only specula-
tive.
The truth is that the passage appeared in manuscripts with
the w^ords which Dr. Benson would have omitted. It appeared
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154 Dr. Benson on the Phimacy of Jurisdiction. [Nov.,
in manuscripts without them. St. Charles may have been of
opinion that the latter contained the more genuine text, but
he would not have been guilty of the folly and presumption
of requiring the Holy Father to decree that words coming
from antiquity, as these words came, did not belong to that
text. As reasonably might it be asked, on Dr. Benson's
principle, that the words describing Josue's command to the
sun should be expunged from his book on scientific grounds.
Now, if the " broken-hearted scholars," Paulus Manutius and
Latino Latini, arrived at the conclusion that certain words did
not belong to the text of Cyprian, they had doubtless good
critical grounds ; but they were in the service of the Hbly See,
they were treated with great distinction and liberality, as all
scholars have ever been by that most munificent patron of
learning, unchangeable in this whatever changes in the men who
held the place, and their duty was to edit an edition for their
employer and not for themselves.
Dr. Benson thinks he makes a good point by telling us that
Charles Borromeo "procured " '^'the Verona manuscript" " for the
restoration of the text of Cyprian to its primitive integrity," and
the inference must then be that his uncle, Pius IV., was a crafty
politician who waived aside the honest counsel of his nephew.
St. Charles would be entitled to have the edition he thought
purest published, as any private scholar might ; he was not
. weighted by an awful responsibility such as then pressed on
the shoulders of his uncle ; but for the Pope to subordinate
his great place in the church to the pettishness, capriciousness,
and overweening vanity of thankless servants, and that merely
on an open question of text, would be as fatuous as mischiev-
ous. The very technical and querulous disposition of these
scholars can be judged by their complaint that some of the
manuscripts of St. Cyprian had been so copied as to give the
words of the Vulgate in the commission to Peter rather than
the words found in the older manuscripts ; that is to say, because
some copyist preferred the best Latin version of our Lord's
words to the Latin of the earlier manuscripts, the text had
been tampered with ! Latino refused to take the Vulgate
words, and in doing this he showed the spirit of a con-
ceited and insolent pedant ; but of course Dr. Benson weeps
tears of ink over his broken heart. We think any honest man*
will say the Pope and his advisers would have been criminal if
they published an edition calculated to protract a debate on a
point of no practical value at a time when it was of vital im-
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1 897-] Dr. Benson on the Primacy of Jurisdiction. 155
portance the council should conclude its work. But will it be
believed that the edition had no particle of influence on the
debate, that many of the bishops had seen no texts except
from manuscripts without the words, that most of the bishops,
probably all of them, were aware that there was a dispute as
to their, genuineness, and that the debate dropped by the adop-
tion of the view of the Cardinal of Lorraine ?
BENSON RELIES ON SARPI.
For the intrigue in bringing out this so-called corrupt edition
of Cyprian, Dr. Benson's authority is Sarpi's History of the
Council of Trent. He seems fond ftf dishonest witnesses. He
tells us nothing about Sarpi, nothing about the auspices under
which, or the place where, his work was published. The
work was published in London and dedicated to James L, who
claimed to be the head of the Church of England. Long be-
fore this time Sarpi had been excommunicated. He had
manifested from his early days, when a Servite friar, a rebel-
lious and intractable disposition ; later on he won the praise of
being "the Hater of the Papacy and the Popes." Dr. Benson
introduces with a flourish of trumpets the edition of Baluze
because it appears without the disputed words. We need say
no more of Baluze than that Dr. Benson thinks it necessary on
his behalf to perform the office of compurgator; we therefore
decline to receive him as an untainted witness.
The doctrine of the supremacy of the pope is in no way
affected, because it in no way depends on the words which are
questioned. A primacy of order or bare dignity is asserted by
Dr. Benson, and by many Anglicans far more Catholic in
thought than he is. But this is beating the air. From Tertul-
lian, whom St. Cyprian calls " Master " ; from Cyprian himself,
who speaks of the pope as sitting in the place of Peter ; from
St. Irenaeus, seventy years before Cyprian, through all the Fathers
witnesses to the primacy of jurisdiction, down to to-day, when
men of every race and tongue acknowledge it, the doctrine
stands clear in its exercise of authority and clear in its definition.
We shall waste no time in .discussing it ; we shall conclude by
expressing our amazement that the greatest dignitary of the
English Church, a scholar, a man charged with grave responsi-
bilities, should devote thirty years of his life to prove what is
of interest to no one, and even if it were of interest would be
of value to no one.
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156 A Fatal Friendship. [Nov.,
A FATAL FRIENDSHIP.
BY GRACE CHRISTMAS.
I.
'* The more thou knowest, and the better, so much the heavier will thy judgment be,
unless thy life be also more holy."'— Imitation 0/ Christ.
fONSTANCE NEVILLE was one of the cleverest
girls at the Ct)nvent of the Sacred Heart at B .
She was one of the handsomest too, but her
talents were of far more account to her than her
beauty ; perhaps because she had not as yet real-
ized her possession of the latter gift.
For eight years she had carried off all the prizes, acted as
ringleader in various escapades, laughed, romped, studied, and
occasionally wept, in that gray old building with its high stone
walls and cool, green gardens ; and now it was time to bid its
inmates farewell, to ** put away childish things ** and become a
woman.
The idea was distinctly displeasing to her. The path of
knowledge, which many of her companions found so rough and
objectionable, was to her a pure delight, and every fresh ob-
stacle she greeted with joy, for here was something to be mas-
tered and eventually overcome by the force of her intellect.
In addition to her dislike of abandoning her studies, the
future, so far as she could see, held nothing especially attrac-
tive for her in its outstretched arms. Her parents, who were
converts, had both died when she was very young ; she was an
only child and possessed no Catholic relations, and her life
was to be spent under the roof of a Protestant aunt, a woman
in whose estimation this world was the only one worth think-
ing about, and whose ambitions were limited to giving smart
receptions, wearing Paris frocks, and shining as a social suc-
cess.
Attractive or not, however, the unknown future had to be
faced. The last few weeks of her school-girl's existence fled
by with lightning-like rapidity and now it was the eve of her
departure.
" Constance," said one of her companions, coming up to
where she sat listlessly on a bench in the rose-garden, ** Rev
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erend Mother wants to see you in her room. A farewell con-
ference, I expect," she added with a laugh. ** How she will im-
press on you to avoid the pomps and vanities of this wicked
world, etc."
There was no answering smile on the girl's finely-cut lips
as she rose to obey the summons. In her present mood the
"pomps and vanities" which she saw looming in the near dis-
tance were eminently distasteful to her ; and she felt, for that
reason, that no virtue would lie in their avoidance.
" Come in," said a sweet voice in answer to her knock, and
entering a plainly-furnished room, which looked out upon the
sunny garden, she found herself in the presence of the superior
of the convent. Sister Mary Francis was a woman of a marked
personality, which impressed itself upon all with whom she came
in contact. Her governing powers were of no mean order,
her bump of organization was strongly developed, and at the
age of forty she ruled over the community, many of whom were
her seniors, both wisely and well. Like her namesake of Assisi,
she was thorough to the core. There were no half- measures
about this calm-faced nun, with her ethereal beauty and her
speaking eyes. She lived up to her own standard, which was a
lofty one, and though she could sympathize with those whose
aim was lower, and whose efforts at perfection more feeble, there
was, perhaps, underlying the sympathy just a touch of contemp-
tuous pity for those who were cast in a weaker mould than
herself.
"So you are going to leave us, Connie?" she said, stroking
the girl's golden brown hair as she knelt beside her. " Going to
take your place in the world . and make it all the better for
your presence in it, eh ? "
" I don't know, mother," was the somewhat dubious reply.
** I do not want to have anything to do with it at all. I would
far rather go on with my studies and not be bothered with
society and all that kind of rubbish."
The nun smiled. She had heard this phrase so often from
girlish lips, and knew by experience how effervescent are the
ideas and moods of youth.
** So you think now," she returned quietly, " but I fancy
by this time next year you will have a very different story to
tell. You are placed in the world, so far as we can judge at
present, and you must fulfil your social duties and live accord-
ing to your position, always bearing in mind that God and
your religious observances must come first."
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158 A Fatal Friendship, , [Nov.,
"I didn't mean I wanted to be a nun, mother," said Con-
stance naively. " I meant I would rather go on studying by
myself, instead of being bothered by balls and dinner-parties."
" Your love of study is a little inordinate, my child, and you
are far too much inclined to neglect more absolutely essential
matters on its account. A brilliant intellect is an immense
gift, but you must always remember that it is a gift, and that
none of its merit is due to yourself. Beware how you use your
talents, Connie, and never lose sight of the fact that the clev-
erest men and women are invariably the most humble also.
Above all, remember that your life, at any rate for the next
few years, will be passed in an heretical atmosphere, and live
up to the high standard of your religion. Let the world see
that a Catholic woman may be bright and clever and attractive
and play her part gracefully in society, and at the same time be
absolutely uncompromising where her religious principles are
concerned. You need not go about with a puritanical expression
and a dowdy gown, as is the mistaken custom of some pious
souls. Catholics should be as well dressed as any one else. There
is no reason why they should hide themselves in the background,
and every gift of mind and person should be developed to its
farthest extent for the greater glory of God. More is always
expected of those who belong to the one true faith, and " — with
a smile — *' it must be your part to see that the supply is equal
to the demand."
There was a brief silence while the speaker's words sank d^ep
into her listener's heart. This was an entirely new theory to
her. Her mother, on becoming a Catholic, had acted in the
injudicious manner affected by a certain class of converts, and
had tabooed dances, theatres, and well-fitting frocks from the
hour of her conversion. She spent the greater part of the day
in church, to the utter neglect of both her social and domestic
duties, and was never entirely happy except in the society of
priests or friars. This had been Constance Neville's first child-
ish idea of Catholicity, and now here was a cloistered nun ad-
vocating dinner-parties and encouraging the wearing of pretty
gowns !
"With regard to your studies," continued the superior, "a
girl's education in many cases only begins when she is sup-
posed to be * finished off,' and a course of serious reading will
increase your stock of knowledge enormously, and besides, you
must keep up your languages and accomplishments. But, my
child, again I say beware of your choice of books, and never
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1 897-] A Fatal Friendship. 159
under any circumstances allow any one to induce you to dabble
in the pernicious free-thinking literature of the present day
and the scientific treatises which profess so glibly to explain
away everything in heaven and earth. I will pray each day
that you may live the life of an earnest, fervent Catholic, in
the world and conforming to its usages, but not of it, and do
you, child, pray also for help and strength, for if you fall, it will
be through your intellect I^^
Then, after a few more tender, motherly words of counsel
and advice, Constance was dismissed, and returned to the school-
room with the nun*s warning ringing in her ears : " If you fall,
it will be through your intellect."
" Well, Connie, how about the pomps and vanities ? "
inquired her special chum, Agnes Lisle, whom she met in the
long corridor. " Did you promise never to ride a ' bike ' or
dance a waltz, when you go out into the wicked world ? '*
" Not I," was the unexpected rejoinder. " The mother says
I am to go to balls and dinner-parties, and have a 'good
time ' all round ; at least she implied the latter part of it."
And, with an amused gleam in her hazel eyes at her friend's
mystified expression, she disappeared through the swing door.
II.
** If it seem to thee that thou knowest many things and understandest them well enoug^h, •
yet know that there are many more things of which thou art ignorant." — Imitation.
It was six months later, and Constance Neville had made
her curtsy to Her Majesty and been formally launched on
society, under the* auspices of her mother's sister. Lady
Langton. So far the reality exceeded her anticipations, which
had never been of a very lively nature so far as social dissipa-
tions were concerned. The never-ending discussions on " chif-
fons," as well as the interminable hours spent with her aunt's
dressmaker, bored her excessively, and the daily visits and after-
noon "at homes," the salient features of which consisted in
weak tea and strong scandal, proved a distinct weariness of the
flesh to the young debutante, whose heart was still in her
studies. On the other hand, she was not too learned to enjoy
a good waltz with a skilful partner, his other claims to attrac-
tion being for the present immaterial, and she was thoroughly in
her element seated beside a leading scientific light or an
eloquent, long-haired professor at one of her aunt's dinner-
parties.
With the golden youth of the day Miss Neville was not
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i6o A Fatal Friendship, [Nov.,
altogether a success. The " Berties " and " Algys " whom she
met at dances and receptions, with their hair parted in the
same way and all wearing "the latest thing'* in collars, ap-
peared to her to be formed on the identical pattern of a score
of others, and, what was fatal to her chance of attracting them,
she made no efforts to conceal her weariness in their society.
By degrees she learned to know exactly what they would say
to her on a given occasion, and the effect which her remarks
would produce upon them, until she grew to regard them in
the light of so many musical boxes warranted to play a limited
number of tunes when you pressed the spring. There was one
man, however, amongst those she met who appealed to her in
a distinctly different manner.
Hugh Radcliffe was an atheist and a free-thinker, a brilliant
conversationalist, and magnetic to his finger-tips. Just the type
of man to interest a clever, impressionable girl in her teens,
who valued her acquaintances according to their intellectual
powers. The inherent refinement of his nature, rather than any
lofty motives, restrained him from indulging in ordinary mascu-
line vices, and it may have been this exemption which caused
him to consider himself in only a microscopic degree "lower
than the angels," and to look down upon the common herd
from a pedestal of calm superiority. He had lately retired
from the army, where he had commanded a smart cavalry regi-
ment, finding the life uncongenial to his tastes and ideas, and
was now living by himself in an artistically furnished flat in
Kensington, dabbling a little in literature, and leading the
somewhat desultory existence which he preferred to any other.
It was at one of the little dinners for which Lady Langton
was so famous that he first met Constance Neville, and some-
thing in the girPs proud, fearless expression and bright, racy talk
attracted him even more than her undeniable beauty of feature
and coloring. She was an anomaly in that Hyde Park minage^
where materialism was apt to shunt spirituality into a very-
remote place in the background, and a pretty girl who neither
flirted, smoked cigarettes, nor talked slang was a distinct novelty
to this blasd man of the world, and appreciated accordingly.
Before very long they had struck up a tremendous friendship,
rather to Lady Langton's dismay, for Colonel Radcliffe, though
fairly well off, was by no means eligible from her point of view,
and his attentions would, she argued, " spoil Connie's chances
in other directions." Matrimony, however, was very far from
Hugh Radcliffe's thoughts, and it had certainly not entered into
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1 897-] A Fatal Friendship. i6i
Constance Neville's calculations so far as he was concerned.
This " episode " was over long since in the days of his hot-
headed youth, and all that remained was a handful of dead
embers, which not even the many charms and talents of this
convent-bred girl had the power to rekindle. They were
friends, therefore, without a particle of sentiment on either side ;
for such a condition of affairs, though rare between two persons
of different sexes, is still perfectly possible under exceptional
circumstances. Lady Langton, however, was dubious. Platonics
did not enter into that volatile lady's scheme of existence, and
her fixed idea at present was to bring about a brilliant marriage
for her handsome niece. The fact that this would be no easy
task had already dawned upon her. Constance had lost no time
in informing her that she would never consent to marry a
Protestant, and six months' daily intercourse with the girl had
taught her that what she said she invariably carried out. Rich
unmarried Catholics were few and far between ; indeed she
could only number one amongst her acquaintances, and he was
a confirmed bachelor, with, it was said, strong leanings towards
the priesthood. -Her only hope was that Constance herself
would lose her heart to some eligible heretic to an extent
which would render her willing to renounce her principles on
the subject, or else that she might meet with some wealthy and
accommodating young lordling whom it would be possible for
her to convert to her own ideas. With regard to Lady Lang-
ton's own religion, her beliefs were many and varied, according
to the views of her last pet preacher. She had even been
known to speak in approving terms of the Catholic faith —
** Such a pretty, poetical religion, don't you know, especially in
dear Italy, where they have such charming festas of the
Madonna " — but lately she had sat at the feet of a celebrated
theosophist, and sang the praises of esoteric Buddhism to any
one who would listen to her.
" What are you reading, Connie ? " she inquired one hot,
drowsy afternpon in July, when she and her niece were, for a
wonder, alone together in the former's dainty boudoir.
A faint flush rose to Constance's face as she glanced up
from the pages of her book.
"It is one Colonel Radcliffe lent me, The Downfall of the
Creedsr
Lady Langton held up her white, jewelled hands in affected
horror.
*' W^AEri" a title ! " she murmured. "I thought you Papists
VOL. LXV.— II
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i62 A Fatal Friendship. [Nov.,
were so particular about what you read. It is as bad as that
fearful pamphlet The Triumph of Materialism^ or some such
name, which you and he were so excited about, the other day,
at Mrs. Blake's *at home.'"
" Oh ! but I did not agree with that at all," put in her
niece quickly. " This is very different, and takes a much wider
view of things."
"Well, my dear, I suppose you know best. Of course it is
very nice to see you take such a liberal view of things — Roman
Catholics are so one-sided usually."
As she spoke, a picture from the but recently vanished
past rose up before Constance Neville, and, as in a vision, she
saw the sweet, grave face of the mother superior, and listened
to her prophetic words, ^^ If you fall, it will be through your
intellect." Her childhood's guide had warned her with regard
to the so-called " liberality " of this end of the century, which
like a false beacon flickers before the eyes of even good, prac
tising Catholics, leading them on to the rocks of unbelief.
And now she, a girl brought up in a convent, was accused of
this vice by the lips of a Protestant ! For the past month or
so Hugh Radcliffe bad, as he expressed it, "taken her educa-
tion in hand." The sight of so much faith was as obnoxious
to him as was that of the other angels to Lucifer when he
fell from heaven, and by dint of delicately administered doses
of flattery concerning the present waste of her intellectual
powers — her most vulnerable point — he had succeeded in in-
stilling into her mind a longing to eat of the fruit of the tree
of knowledge of good and evil. It is undoubtedly only the
first step which costs. The whispers of conscience, which had
assailed her ears while she read the first book Hugh gave her,
were becoming fainter and more stifled every day. Now she had
the tenets of the " New Rationalism " at her fingers' ends, and
there had been moments when she wondered whether, after all,
it was possible that the Sacred Scriptures were merely a pret-
tily invented fable. So many of the events mentioned therein,
so Colonel Radcliffe told her, tallied exactly with the legend
of Buddha; and she had a very exalted opinion of her men-
tor's discriminating powers. Another fact which was against
her, at this critical period of her spiritual existence, was the
total lack' of intercourse with members of her own religion.
With the exception of her confessor, with whom she was
on slightly reserved terms, she never spoke to a Catholic
from one week's end to another, and the "heretical atmos-
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phere " spoken of by Sister Mary Francis was beginning to
tell.
"What a bore it is, having to go to this dance to-night,"
remarked Lady Langton suddenly.
Constance roused herself with a start from the reverie into
which she had fallen.
** What dance ? Oh, the Damers* ? Must we really go ? "
"Why of course," returned her aunt briskly, slightly irritated
at being taken at the foot of the letter. " Besides," she added
a trifle maliciously, " your dear Colonel Radcliffe is going."
The girl's eyes lit up with pleasure.
"Is he really? He said he had another engagement, when
I asked him yesterday."
" Well, I had the fact from his own lips this morning in
the park, while you were talking to young Fortescue ; that is
all I can tell you. And I do hope, my dear" — with a sudden
change of tone — "that you will not make yourself as conspicu-
ous with him as you did the other evening at Blair House."
" Conspicuous ! What do you mean, aunt ? He is my friend^'^
was the indignant rejoinder.
"Nonsense, child! Friendship is a fable in most cases, but
especially so between a man and a woman. Mark my words,
Connie — one of these days you will regret your friendship, as
you call it, with Hugh Radcliffe."
And it was with this warning ringing in her ears that Con-
stance Neville left the room to dress for Mrs. Damer's dance.
III.
" I am He that in an instant elevateth the humble mind to comprehend more reasons of
the Eternal Truth than if any one had studied ten years in the schools." — Imitation,
Three years had gone by since Constance Neville had left
her convent home, and now it was early autumn, and she and
Lady Langton were revelling in the gorgeous tints of an Um-
brian landscape, and enjoying the delights of a sauntering tour
through the fairest province of beautiful Italy.
It was principally upon Constance's account that they had
come abroad. For some time she had been looking pale and
drooping, and out of sorts generally, and her aunt's medical
adviser — a bland, pompous person, with a silky manner which
constituted a little fortune in itself — had pronounced her to be
" wanting in tone," and recommended " immediate change of
air and scene." It was Lady Langton's private opinion, however.
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that mental trouble, and not physical ills, was at "the'root of
her niece's altered looks and listless demeanor; and for once
that sprightly little lady was correct in her estimate. Constance's
friendship with Hugh Radcliffe, the avowed atheist, had indeed
proved a fatal one, and her eager and prolonged study of
works which breathed rationalism and open infidelity in every
line had finally culminated in her soul's shipwreck. Her doubts
had, under his skilful tuition, resolved themselves into a cer-
tainty that religion was a mockery and faith a delusion, and
at one-and-twenty this girl, brought up and educated by pious
and devout women whose lives were one long "Credo," had
arrived at the conclusion that man's reason and intellect were
his only reliable guides, and that in her scheme of existence
there was no place for an Almighty and Creative power. She
had abandoned God and cut herself adrift from his church,
and she no longer feared, because she had lost all belief in an
eternity when he in his turn would abandon her. She had
fallen, and it was through that intellect which she magnified
into something abnormal in its grandeur ; but the warning words
of her childhood's counsellor had long since ceased to haunt
her, for she had severed herself from all connection with her
old associations.
Lady Langton was anything but pleased with this alteration
in her niece. In common with a great many Protestants, she
had a lurking respect for genuine Catholics, and felt that, as
their standard was a more lofty one than that of other people,
it was only fitting that their lives should correspond. As we
have said, her own convictions were in a highly unsettled con-
dition, but it went quite against her ideas of respectability that
a woman should be without any religion whatsoever.
" If Connie was determined to leave the Romish Church,"
she would complain pathetically to her dozen or so of dearest
friends, ^^why could she not have come with me to St. Mary
Magdalen's, where they have such dear little boys in white sur-
plices and burn such delicious incense? But no; she calls that
' humbug,' and says that when the age of reason comes there
will be no church services anywhere. I am sure, according to
her theories, that it will be a very uncomfortable time when it
does come."
Then there would ensue a sympathetic murmur from the
tea-drinking circle, and the conversation would veer round to
" chiffons " and the merits of the last new tenor.
Constance was still Miss Neville. She had been admired by
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a certain class of men who had grown a little weary of the
yielding feminine type of womanhood, but on the whole she
was not popular with the other sex. She had refused one oifer,
greatly to her aunt's chagrin, and had lately announced her
intention of retaining her own name to the end of the chap-
ter. Contrary to society's expectations, Hugh Radcliffe had re-
mained contented with his position as friend and mentor, with-
out making any attempt to exchange it for a nearer and dearer
tie. Lady Langton averred that his perpetual presence pre-
vented aspiring suitors from declaring themselves ; and as men
usually " fight shy " of " platonic friendships," it is possible that
there may have been some foundation for this belief.
For the last week the two travellers had been indulging in
a " feast of frescoes," as the elder lady put it, in the quaint old
town of Spello ; and now their thoughts were turning towards
the Birthplace of the Friars, which would be new ground to
both of them.
" You would like to see Assisi, I suppose, wouldn't you,
Connie?" inquired Lady Langton one morning, when they had
been gazing for the twentieth time at Pinturicchio's lovely
frescoes in the ancient church of San Lorenzo.
" Oh, yes ! as we are so near it we may as well," replied
her niece in the listless manner which had become habitual
to her,
"But you used to be so enthusiastic about St. Francis, and
his roses, and his little birds, and all that ! " exclaimed her
aunt volubly ; and then, as recollection came to her — •' Oh ! of
course, that was when you were a Roman Catholic. Now^ I
suppose, you disapprove of him ! "
Constance Neville's already ivory pale face grew perceptibly
paler. Her conscience was not as yet so entirely deadened
but that a chance allusion to her former faith had still the
power to stab her.
" I admire St. Francis now," she said quietly. " He was in
earnest, if mistaken in his convictions, and he was intensely
thorough." As she spoke, there flashed across her a sudden
memory of the saint's namesake and her fervent devotion to
her glorious patron. Sister Mary Francis was an eminently
clever woman — that was an undeniable fact — how was it, then,
that she possessed such blind, unreasoning confidence in what
she called " divine revelation " ? It was a problem which baf-
fled even the intellectual powers of this newly avowed young
atheist !
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i66 A Fatal Friendship. [Nov.,
"How dull you are, Connie," remarked Lady Langton im-
patiently. Thought of any kind was abhorrent to her lively,
superficial nature, and gloomy reflections, which prohibited the
exchange of small chatter, especially so. With an effort Con-
stance roused herself, and, as she mentally expressed it, " talked
down to her aunt's level *' until it was time to return to their
apartment for lunch.
Two days later they were established at a picturesque little
hotel within a stone's throw of the tomb of St. Francis, and
the nameless, undeiinable charm of Assisi had enfolded them
in its magical embrace. Even Constance felt its. influence.
Something of the spirit of the Seraphic Friar lingers still to-^
day in the steep, cobble-paved streets, and dim old churches,
where the exquisitely tinted frescoes, painted by the mighty
masters of old, gleam from the sombre walls. To Catholics
every inch of the ground is hallowed by countless associations
and tender memories, and those outside the church are insen-
sibly impressed with sentiments of veneration hitherto undreamt
of in " their philosophy."
It was at the " Angeli," the afternoon after their arrival, that
Constance encountered a "ghost from the past'* in the person
of her former school friend, Agnes Lisle, now developed into
a fair-faced young woman with a quantity of fluffy hair and a
bright, winning manner.
" Connie, how delightful ! " ^as her enthusiastic exclamation
as they met. " What luck ! Fancy meeting you here ! What
have you been doing all these ages since we last saw each
other? Tell me directly."
" That is a large order," replied Miss Neville calmly. She
was by no means charmed at this unexpected meeting.
" Isn't this place too utterly sweet ? " went on the girl, her
blue eyes sparkling with delight. "And what a lot of prayers
you must have said there," pointing to the Portiuncula Chapel,
"for your dear Sister Mary Francis!"
For a moment Constance hesitated. Should she allow her
friend to remain in ignorance of what had befallen her since
they parted, or would it be more honest to boldly proclaim
the change which had taken place within her? Perhaps it
would.
The happy smiles faded from Agnes Lisle's face and were
replaced by a half incredulous look of horror and bewilderment
as she listened.
"Is it possible, Cqnnie? You\.o renounce your faith? You
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1897.] A Fatal Friendship. 167
must be mad." Then in a softer tone, "God help you, you
poor foolish girl ; how I pity you ! "
Constance drew herself up proudly. She was accustomed to
the commendation of Hugh Radcliffe, and others of his ilk, for
having " freed herself from the degrading shackles of religion,"
and this was the first occasion on which she had met with any-
thing that savored of reproof. " Foolish I " this girl had called
her. The idea of Agnes Lisle, whose prizes had been few and
far between^ and whose intelligence was on a distinctly low
level, daring to "pity" her, the brilliant student and the inde-
pendent free-thinker! She listened in scornful silence to a
few earnest, pleading words, uttered from the depths of her old
school-fellow's trusting heart, and, seizing the first opportunity,
bade her a hasty farewell.
The drive home was a very silent one, and it was only when
they reached the hotel that Constance volunteered a remark:
** Colonel Radcliffe talks of joining us here. I heard from him
this morning; he is at Rome."
" Oh, does he ? " answered Lady Langton carelessly. She
had learned wisdom where her niece was concerned, and con-
sequently refrained from any further comments on the informa-
tion imparted to her.
IV.
" And the fool says in his heart, * There is no God.» "
That same evening Hugh Radcliffe made his appearance on
the scene. He professed to be weary of sight-seeing and long-
ing for purer air, and absolutely declined to crane his neck
gazing at Giotto's frescoes, or to go into raptures over any-
body's Madonnas. He had taken up his quarters at the small
hotel midway between the town of Assisi and the Church of
the Angeli, but the greater part of his day was spent with
Lady Langton and her niece — or, to put it more accurately, with
her niece alone.
" I wash my hands of you, Connie," said her aunt plain-
tively, when the girl had announced her intention of going for
a long, rambling walk with her newly arrived friend. " It seems
to me you will soon' throw propriety overboard as well as reli-
gion. What the poor natives will think I don't know. I sup-
pose you must have your own way, as you always do, and one
consolation is that all the English are considered more or less
mad ! "
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i68 A Fatal Friendship. [Nov.,
Which Speech, freely translated, signified that Lady Langton
did not at all relish the prospect of acting chaperone on a hot
sunny morning, and was rather relieved than otherwise at her
niece's openly expressed contempt of Mrs. Grundy.
**You are not looking well, Constance," remarked Colonel
Radcliife, as they began to ascend the hill leading tO/ the Poor
Clare Convent of San Damiano.
He had adopted the habit of dropping the formal prefix when
there were no strangers present.
"I might return the compliment," she answered playfully,
glancing up at the pale, powerful face, with its clearly cut^
strongly marked features, which impressed her afresh each time
she saw it. ** Have you been ill, or worried, or* what?"
" I have had a pretty sharp touch of my old malady, the
heart," was the careless reply. " It is quite on the cards, you
know, that I may ' solve the great problem,* as they call it, at
any moment. As if there were any problems left to solve," he
added musingly.
"Why did you not tell me sooner?" exclaimed Constance,
with a reproachful look in her hazel eyes. " You ought not to
be going up hill at all ! Oh, do be careful of yourself ! "
Hugh Radclifle laughed lightly. "Don't look so concerned,
child," he said caressingly ; " we old fellows must move on to
make room for the younger generation."
"Old! — at forty-five ? " she exclaimed indignantly. "What
nonsense clever men can talk sometimes ! "
"Besides," he went on, "why should you grudge me my
well-earned rest? I have been buffeted about the world long
enough, and am of no use to any one in it ; why not be anni-
hilated then, and sink into a restful nothingness, an intermina-
ble sleep, which shall know no waking?"
" To sleep ? Perchance to dream ! " murmured the girl half
to herself.
" What heresy are you muttering, Constance ? " asked her
mentor sharply. "After death's icy finger has once touched us
there will be neither dreams nor awakening. I hope the ro-
mantic associations of this place and all its saintly legends have
not been putting foolish ideas into your head."
" No, Hugh, I think not," she answered simply. " The
quotation only happened to come into my mind at that mo-
ment."
" It was not a particularly apt one," he remarked with a
slight trace of irritation in his manner.
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Colonel Radcliffe felt that in robbing Constance Neville of
her early illusions, and destroying her faith, he had achieved
a distinct triumph, and he was therefore proportionately fear-
ful of any backsliding on the part of his pet pupil.
The remainder of their walk was spent in a discussion on
the respective merits of Kant and Hegel's doctrines, but an
indefinable shadow had clouded the brightness of that autumn
morning as far as Constance was concerned, and the thought
that her friend's days on earth were numbered weighed heavily
upon her spirit. It sounded so dreary as he put it — to end in
nothingness ! Of course she believed it too, but — there was no
denying that it was an unpleasant theory to hold. Then came
the reflection, //", on the other hand, immortality should prove
to be no fable, what would be the eternal fate of herself, and
Hugh Radcliffe, and the thousands of men and women in the
world who daily denied their Creator?
She gave a little shiver in the sunshine and turned her
thoughts to other subjects ; but the idea, once presented, kept
perpetually recurring to her mind during the days which fol-
lowed. Notwithstanding Colonel Radcliffe's objection to sight-
seeing, he resigned himself to the inevitable, and consented to
admire the stately Church of San Francesco, to gaze incredu-
lously upon the blood-stained rose-bushes in the friar's garden,
and to visit the stable where the Seraphic founder of the Fran-
ciscan Order first saw the light, and the little cell whence his
pure spirit winged its flight to heaven.
" There was something distinctly impressive about Francis
of Assisi," he said one evening, as he and Constance stood on
the balcony of Lady Langton's sitting-room, watching the dying
sun sinking to its rest in a glory of gold and crimson. '* There
were no half-measures about his Christianity. I do not won-
der that superstitious, impressionable people are taken with the
Catholic religion. After all, it is the only logical one."
Constance gazed at him in bewilderment. " Are you defend-
ing it ? " she inquired.
" Not I, child," he answered lightly. " I defend no religion,
for I have learned the shallowness and unreality of every creed.
I only mean to say that of all the many forms of superstition
clung to by the human race, which Carlyle describes as * mostly
fools,' it is the most venerable, and the only one which will
hold water. It is more ingeniously invented than the others,
that is all."
Constance remained silent, her eyes fixed on the purple
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I/O A Fatal Friendship. [Nov.,
mountain tops and drinking in the exquisite beauty of the
scene before her. , Assisi had impressed her, as well as her com-
panion, though she would have died rather than acknowledge
the fact, especially to him. In her school-days St. Francis had
always been the object of her particular devotion, contrary
though the whole spirit of his life was to her self-willed nature,
with its reckless impulses and pride of intellect; and every
step in the quaint little town sanctified by his presence, and
every incident recorded of his words and actions, were familiar
to her as household words. According to Colonel Radcliffe's
theory, and — yes, of course — hers too, the Friar of Assisi no
longer existed. He had died several centuries ago, and been
annihilated, for there was no life beyond the grave — that ended
everything !
** Why are you so silent, Hugh ? " she asked suddenly, wish-
ing to be directed from her own thoughts, and turning to look
at him as he leant beside her with his arms folded on the
railing of the little balcony. Then, as she noticed the ashy
grayness of his face, she gave a horrified exclamation, which
immediately brought Lady Langton upon the scene.
" Ring the bell, aunt, quickly ! " she said hurriedly as she
half led, half supported him into the sitting-room. " Tell them
to bring some brandy. He is fearfully ill ! "
Hugh turned towards her with a faint attempt at a smile on
his agonized features. " I am dying, Connie," he murmured.
" Going to nothingness, sinking — sinking — ah ! — " and with one
long-drawn breath his head fell back on the sofa-cushions, and
the soul of Hugh Radcliffe, the atheist, went before the judg-
ment seat of God. .
A second resounding peal of the bell brought a group of
agitated waiters, who bore the lifeless body to another room
to await the arrival of the doctor, and Lady Langton and her
niece were left alone, stupefied by the events of the last few
minutes, and feeling as though they were the victims of some
hideous nightmare. Constance stood motionless, gazing before
her with unseeing eyes, her thoughts rendered almost stag-
nant by the sudden shock. A moment ago her friend was here
by her side, avowing his unbelief in God and religion, and now
— where was he?
" He has gone to nothingness," she murmured at last in the
manner of one talking in her sleep.
"He has gone to hell more likely," said her aunt, her over-
strung nerves finding sudden relief in decisive speech. " For
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goodness' sake rouse yourself, Constance! The doctor and
those odious municipality people will be coming presently to
ask us all sorts of disagreeable questions. It is a most
tragical affair altogether, and so horrid for us to be mixed up
in it ! "
Her niece still continued to stare blankly in front of her,
with the perplexed air of one striving to understand the drift
of what was said, and then, as nature suddenly reasserted its
sway, she sank down on the sofa where her friend had died
and burst into an agony of tears.
A year had passed away since that glowing October evening
when Hugh Radcliffe and Constance Neville had watched the
sun set behind the Angeli, and the superior of the Convent of
the Sacred Heart at B was kneeling in the little chapel
where the sanctuary lamp gleamed redly through the gathering
gloom. Presently one of the sisters interrupted her at her de-
votions. "A lady is waiting for you in the parlor, Reverend
Mother," she said. " She wishes to speak to you in private."
It was past the usual hour for receiving visitors, but some un-
definable impulse prompted the superior to accede to the re-
quest. As she entered the room the slight, graceful figure of
a woman dressed in black rose to her feet and stood before
her.
'• Have you forgotten me, mother ? " she said in a voice which
trembled with an uncontrollable emotion.
*' Forgotten you, child ? No, indeed ! " was the nun's reply,
as she clasped both Constance Neville's hands within her own
and drew her towards her. Then all at once a sudden chill
crept into her manner. " What brings you here ? Agnes Lisle
told me you had renounced your religion and denied your
God!"
The quiet tears started to the hazel eyes, whose beauty had
become somewhat dimmed with much weeping.
" What she told you was true, mother," she faltered, " but
since then God, in his marvellous mercy, has opened my eyes
and given me back my faith."
Then she briefly told the story of the past five years: of her
doubts and waverings, her friendship with the atheist and his
fatal influence upon her life ; of her visit to Umbria, and of how
the holy associations of Assisi had worked in her behalf; of
Hugli Radcliffe's sudden death at sunset, and her own long
and dangerous illness, which followed closely on the heels of
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\J2 A Fatal Frieatdship. [Nov.
that tragical event, and resulted in her conversion, brought
about through the intercession of the Mother of Mercy.
" When I was so ill," she said, " my aunt insisted upon my see-
ing a priest— she never approved of my unbelief — and though I
was too proud to ask for one, it was what I had secretly been
longing for. He came, a pious, learned Dominican, one of the
cleverest men I have ever met, but simple and holy as a little
child, and I told him everything without reserve. The devil
still had some amount of possession over me, however, for my
ideas had been so deeply rooted, and a foolish feeling of loyalty
to Hugh Radcliffe's memory stood in my way. Then Father
began a novena to our Lady of Mercy, and persuaded
several pious people to join in it, and before the ninth day
she had brought me back again to her Divine Son. Now I feel
that a lifetime will not be long enough in which to atone for
my sin."
•* God be thanked ! " murmured the nun as she folded the
penitent in her arms. "There are two roads to heaven, my
child — Innocence and Penance. The latter path is still yours
to follow, and, with Mary's help, it will lead you safely on to
the glorious end."
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St. Joseph's Chapel, Glastonbury Abbey. Erected between iioi and iiao,
BY Abbot Herlew^nus, on the site of St. Joseph's Cell.
THE CHURCH IN BRITAIN BEFORE THE COMING
OF ST. AUGUSTINE.
BY J. ARTHUR FLOYD.
HIRTEEN hundred years have passed since St.
Augustine and his companions landed in Eng-
land, and sending to its ' pagan Bretwalda —
Ethelbert of Kent — "signified that they were
come from Rome, and brought a joyful mes-
sage, which most undoubtedly assured to all that took advan-
tage of it everlasting joys in heaven, and a kingdom that would
never end, with the true and living God/* It was essentially
an " Italian Mission," due in its inception to Pope St. Gregory
the Great, and brought to a successful issue by the Papal mis-
sionary, St. Augustine.
The land thus benefited by the great Pontiff's vigilance lay
without the then bounds of civilization, wrapt in that environ-
ment of mystery and awe with which the deeds of its Saxon
conquerors had invested it. Ages before, its people had been
subjected to Roman rule, and the Roman policy of draughting
the pick of the nation's manhood into the legions entrusted
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174 The Church in Britain before [Nov.,
with the protection of the distant provinces of the empire had
drained the island of its chief means of defence. The day
came when the imperial eagles were withdrawn, and " the south
part of Britain, destitute of armed soldiers, of martial stores,
and of all its active youth, which had been led away never to
return, was wholly exposed to rapine, as being totally ignorant
of the use of weapons." Thrown on their own resources, the
Britons fell an easy prey before the pagan tribes — the "sea-
wolves," as they were called — who swarmed over from the
Low-German lands on the Frisian shore and the mouth of the
Elbe. The culture and refinement introduced by the Romans
soon became a thing of the past, and the worship of Woden
and Thor supplanted the teaching of the Cross. A desire to
recover for the church the land thus wrenched from its bosom
had long filled the mind and heart of St. Gregory. At last it
found practical expression in the mission of St. Augustine, and
the recently celebrated thirteen hundredth anniversary of its
arrival renders not inopportune some account of the earlier
British Church which had existed from time immemorial, and
which in St. Augustine's days still flourished in Wales and
those parts of Britain in possession of its ancient inhabitants.
No documentary evidence contemporary with the dawn of
the early period of which we write is extant to tell us when,
and by whom, Christianity was first introduced into Britain.
About the year 547 the native writer Gildas breaks the long
silence ; Nennius writes in the seventh century, and in the
eighth Venerable Bede composes his Ecclesiastical History and
other works. Our information is, in the main, derived from
the above writers, from certain ancient Welsh MSS., and a
series of mediaeval legends expressing the belief of ages much
nearer the events they record than our own, the accuracy of
which the chroniclers could test by reference to documents
which have since disappeared. Whilst subjecting such legend-
ary information to a critical examination, it is well to bear in
mind the dictum of the Protestant historian. Dean Milman.
" History, to be true," he says, " must condescend to speak the
language of legend," for " the belief of the times is part of
the history of the times."
Certain such legendary accounts of missions said to have
been conducted to Britain by one or other of the Apostles are,
both by Lingard and the Anglican authorities Haddon and
Stubbs, discarded as incapable of proof. ** It is, however, cer-
tain," says Lingard, **that at a very early period there were
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Christians in Britain," and that " before the close of the second
century it (Christianity) had penetrated among the independent
tribes of the north." " From the beginning," Gildas tells us,
Part of the Interior of St. Joseph's Chapel, Glastonbury Abbey.
'^ the Christian faith did entirely remain in Britain till Diocle-
tian's persecution." Commenting on our Lord's words, " I will
build my church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against
it," St. Chrysostom tells his readers : " The British Islands,
situated beyond the sea, and in the very ocean, have experi-
enced the force of the promise, since churches and altars are
there erected." We have also the interesting testimony of cer-
tain documents of Syriac origin now preserved in the British
Museum; by competent authorities they are said to date back
earlier than the year 325. "The City of Rome . . . and
Britain," so they record, " received the Apostle's ordination to
the priesthood from Simon Cephas."
It is probable that the earliest introduction of Christianity
into Britain was in a great measure a result of the Roman
conquest, for where the Roman soldiers marched the priests of
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the church followed, and thus by their hands Britain may
have received "the Apostle's ordination from Simon Cephas."
A consideration of the intimate relations between the British
provinces and the imperial city supports this view. " Whilst,"
says Camden, " I treat of the Roman Empire in Britain . . .
it comes into my mind how many colonies of Romans must
have been transplanted hither in so long a time ; what num-
bers of soldiers were continually sent from Rome for garrisons ;
how many persons were despatched hither, to negotiate affairs,
public or private; and that these, intermarrying with the
Britons, seated themselves here, and multiplied into families."
They civilized the Britons, introduced their laws, customs,
and arts, and without doubt spread abroad that holy faith to
which an ever-increasing number had become zealous converts.
The Roman stamp on the church of the period is indeed so
unmistakable that a recent writer has broached the theory —
untenable on other grounds — that the church of the fourth-cen-
tury Britain was '' the church of the resident Roman popula-
tion, not of the people of Britain," and that on the departure
of the Romans, in 410, a new Christis^n church, that of the
Celts, arose and developed so rapidly that it was already
flourishing in 450.
The imperial authorities allowed many of the subject British
chiefs to retain the title of bin^, *as^ well as part of their terri-
tories, but under conditions that rendered them well-nigh power-
less. Of one of these native princes **it is related in annals of
good credit," says William of Malmesbury, " that Lucius, King of
the Britons, sent to Pope Eleutherius, thirteenth in succession
from St. Peter, to entreat that he would dispel the darkness
of Britain by the light of Christian instruction. ... In con-
sequence, preachers sent by Eleutherius came into Briton."
" Eleutherius was raised to the apostolic seat at Rome," says
Fabius Etheiwerd, " and for fifteen years he constantly perse-
vered in his glorious preaching to the Christian people, and his
holy doctrine went forth, not only through the cities subject to
him, but from the rising to the setting sun. For the same
most blessed servant of Christ visited even Lucius, king of this
island, both by message and by letter ; instructing in the faith
and in Catholic baptism." The incident, substantially the same
as related in the earlier history of Bede, is accepted as an his-
torical fact by Dr. Guest, late master of Caius College, Cam-
bridge, whom as an archaeologist Professor Freeman placed
foremost of his time, although Abb^ Duchesne treats it as an
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interpolation, which subsequent chroniclers are supposed to have
copied. Anyway, the chronicle of Ethelwerd — so far as the
period in question is concerned — is pretty certainly known to
represent a recension of the Saxon Chronicle no longer extant,
which, when Ethelwerd wrote (between 975 and loii), could
claim such high antiquity that it may be taken as embodying
the living tradition of the Anglo-Saxon Church in its earliest
age. The interpolation in Bede — if such it be — must have found
its way into his pages almost before the ink was dry on the
vellum on which his amanuensis had been engaged up to within
a few hours of Bede*s death, in 735. It certainly did not give
birth to the tradition, for long before the days of the venerable
monk of Jarrow, in the Liber Pontificalis, dating back to about
527, we find that Eleutherius " received a letter from Lucius, King
of Britain, that he might be made a Christian by his orders/'
Lucius was prince or king of Morganwg, a dominion co-
extensive with the diocese of Llandaff, and his appeal to Rome
resulted in the sending thence of two bishops, St. Faganus
and St. Duvianus, and with them returned the messengers
who had been sent out by Lucius — Elvan and Medwy. Elvan
is said to have received episcopal consecration in Rome, and
succeeded Theanus as second Bishop of London. These early
missionaries acquainted Lucius "with the great joy caused at
Rome by his happy conversion, and how in compliance with
his desire they were sent by the holy Pope Eleutherius to ad-
minister the Rites of Christianity. And hereupon both the
king and his whole family, with many others, received Baptism
according to the course and ceremony of the Roman Church."
In a lecture recently delivered by Mr. Francis King before the
Historical Research Society of London, it has been pointed
out that " Lucius was the first Christian sovereign in the whole
world, and was, therefore, the eldest son of the church." He
ultimately laid aside his crown, and setting out as a missionary
to Germany ended his life by martyrdom at Augsburg.
The teachers sent from Rome " dedicated to the honor of
one God and his saints those temples which had been founded
to the worship of many false gods, filling them with assemblies
of lawful pastors." Bede tells us that " the island was formerly
embellished with twenty-eight noble cities"; m ancient times
they had been the seats of as many Druidical Flamens, or
chief priests, to counteract whose false teaching the Roman
missionaries decreed that they should be made episcopal cities.
In process of time this is said to have been done, and the
VOL. LXVI. — 12
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178 The Church in Britain before [Nov.,
Bishops of London, York, and Caerleon seem to have been in-
vested with what afterwards became known as archiepiscopal
jurisdiction in their several provinces. Ralph de Diceto, ap-
pointed Dean of London in 1181, informs us as to the extent
of the three provinces. " In the time of the Britons," he tells
us in his History of the Archbishops of Canterbury, " there
were three archbishoprics in England : one in the City of Lon-
don, to which Loegria and Cornubia were subject ; another in
York, to which Deira and Albania were subject ; the third in
the City of Legions, that is Caerleon, which is now called St.
David's, to which Cambria was subject." The River Humber
divided Loegria and Cornubia from Deira and Albania, and
Cambria embraced Wales and that part of England west of the
Severn and Wye. In the province of York there were seven
sees, the same number in St. David's, and fourteen in London.
Evidence pointing to the very early establishment of these archi-
episcopal sees is afforded by the decrees of the celebrated coun-
cil held in 314 at Aries, in France. Three British representa-
tives were present and signed the decrees : Eborius of York,
Restitutus of London, and the third, Adelphius, was probably
Bishop of Caerleon.
Amongst the remains of the church of the period of the
Roman occupation the ruined church of St. Mary-le-Castro at
Dover may well claim first attention. By some authorities it
is said to have been built by the Romans themselves, others
suppose it is the work of native converts. Built of Roman
brick, probably in the fourth century, its foundations are in
the form so venerated by Catholics — that of a cross. It is
probably the most ancient piece of Christian architecture in
England. A church of somewhat later date was that of St.
Pirian (friend and contemporary of St. Patrick), which was
built on the coast, near St. Ives, in Cornwall. The building
was 29 feet in length, i6j4 feet in width, and 19 feet in height.
It consisted of a nave and chancel, was furnished with a stone
altar, and was erected earlier than the sixth century, since St.
Pirian was buried within its walls before the year 500. The
remains of this church were for long buried beneath an accumu-
lation of sand and shingle, and thus preserved till brought to
light some sixty years since.
On the site of the ancient Roman city of Calleva, some
eight miles from Reading, there have been discovered what the
Society of Antiquaries recognize as the foundations of a church
which may date from about 350. " Its extreme length was 42
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I897-] THE Coming of St. Augustine. 179
Llandaff Cathedral.
feet. It had a semi-circular ending (apse). It was divided
into a small nave and two aisles. It had a very large porch at
the east end. The church stood east and west, the altar being
at the western end, not at the eastern end, as is usual now.
The floor was laid with brick tesserae an inch square. The
position of the altar is marked by a large square of mosaic.
The colors in this mosaic are quite fresh, and are black, white,
red, and greenish gray. The red is of the usual brick, the
greenish gray is Purbeck marble, the white hardened chalk, and
the black is limestone. • . . The plan of the building is
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perfectly marked by the foundations. To the east of the
church is a little tiled platform, believed to have been a
receptacle for water with which those who were about to enter
the building might perform the usual ablutions."
Speaking of the Church of Glastonbury, from its antiquity
called by the Angles, by way of distinction, " Ealde Chirche " —
that is, the Old Church — William of Malmesbury says: "It is
certainly the oldest I am acquainted with in England, and from
this circumstance derives its name. In it are preserved the
mortal remains of many saints. . . , The very floor, inlaid
with polished stones, and the sides of the altar itself, above and
beneath, are laden with the multitude of relics." It is said to
have been built of " wattle-work " and roofed with dried rushes.
It was 60 feet long, 26 feet broad ; had a window at the west
end, one at the east, three on each side, and two doors. A
drawing of this old church may be seen in a document pre-
served in the British Museum, and is said to have been
copied from a still more ancient brass engraving from the
abbey church of mediaeval times.
The traditional account of the association of St. Joseph of
Arimathaea with Glastonbury is thus recorded by a recent writer :
The life of St. Joseph was in imminent danger from the
Jewish priests on account of his attention to the body of our
Lord after the crucifixion. In the same number of persecuted
ones were St. Philip, Lazarus, St. Mary Magdalen, Martha
her sister, and Marcella their servant. Banished from the Holy
Land by the Jews, they reached Marseilles in France ; and here
Philip remained preaching the Gospel, but sent Joseph of
Arimathaea, his son, and ten other faithful companions into
Britain to convert its pagan inhabitants. On the spot where
they landed St. Joseph planted his staff ; it took root, and ever
afterwards blossomed at Christmas-time ; and near at hand the
first church at Glastonbury was erected and dedicated to Our Lady.
The year 449 saw the landing of the Jutes, under Hengist
and Horsa, in Britain. Saxons and Angles followed in their
wake in ever-increasing numbers, and soon these pagan allies
developed into terrible foes. "They plundered all the neigh-
boring cities and country, spread the conflagration from the
eastern to the western sea, and covered almost every part of
the devoted island. Public as well as private structures were
overturned, the priests were everywhere slain before the altars ;
the prelates and people, without any respect of persons, were
destroyed with fire and sword ; nor was there any to bury those
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i897-] THE Coming of St. Augustine. i8i
who had been thus cruelly slaughtered/* At length, towards
the end of the sixth century, the archbishops of London and
York, seeing all the churches which had been subject to them
destroyed, with many other ecclesiastics, retired into Wales,
carrying with them the sacred relics of the saints ; and England
relapsed into pagan^m.
The Welsh province of Caerleon — subsequently known as
St. David's, or Menevia — is thus invested with peculiar honor,
since it alone never lost its faith down to the time of the so-
called Reformation. During the three centuries following that
calamity the Welsh sees remained vacant. Then, in 1850, at
the command of Pope Pius IX., the hierarchy was restored, and
again a successor to St. David occupied the throne of Menevia
by favor of the Apostolic See. By the authority of Peter's
voice that see was first established in Caerleon when the mar-
tial tramp of the Roman legions resounded within its walls,
and by the authority of that same voice its authority has been
finally merged in the newly-created Welsh vicariate.
In ancient times there were in Caerleon two other churches
in addition to the metropolitan church of the province : one
dedicated to St. Julius, to which was attached a community of
nuns; the other, served by an order of canons, was dedicated
to St. Aaron. The lives of these two tutelar saints bear wit-
ness to the influence of the See of Peter on the church of
early Britain. The authority of that see drew them on, and,
journeying over land and sea, they "applied themselves to
sacred studies" at the foot of the Apostolic throne. On their
return to their native land the Diocletian persecution broke out.
They were seized as adherents of the proscribed faith, and,
'• when they had endured sundry torments, and their limbs had
been torn after an unheard-of manner, yielded their souls up,
to enjoy in the Heavenly City a reward for the sufferings which
they bad passed through." After St. Alban and St. Amphi-
balus they h^ve ever been esteemed the chief of the proto-
martyrs of Britain.
The storm of the Diocletian persecution ceased. Then " the
faithful Christians, who, during the time of danger, had hidden
themselves in woods and deserts and secret caves, appearing
in public, rebuilt the churches which had been levelled with
the ground ; founded, erected, and finished the temples of the
holy martyrs, and, as it were, displayed their conquering en-
signs in all places." The churches erected to commemorate
the sufferings of St. Alban, St. Julius, and St. Aaron were
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1 82 The Church in Britain before [Nov.,
doubtless c^mongst those referred to in the above passage from
Bede, and within their walls, associated with the cross, the
emblenis of their martyrdom may well have been depicted in
characters of gold as amongst the " conquering ensigns " of
the faith of early Britain.
Very interesting, too, is the history of the cathedral church
of Llandaff. From an ancient list of the bishops of this see,
published as an appendix to the Book of Llandaflf, we find
that the earliest rulers of the diocese were the Roman mis-
sionaries, St. Duvianus and St. Faganus. St. Dubricius, its
earliest bishop of whom we can speak with historical certainty,
is thought by Cardinal Moran to have been consecrated by
St. Germanus of Amiens — a martyr bishop, of Irish nationality,
not to be confounded with his spiritual father, St. Germanus
of Auxerre. About the year 490 St. Dubricius succeeded to
the archbishopric of Caerleon. For some time the district had
been troubled by the spread of the errors of the Welsh heresi-
arch, Pelagius ; then St. Germanus of Auxerre, commissioned
by Pope Celestine, had come over from France, accompanied
by St. Lupus of Troyes, in order that, after having confuted
the heretics, he might direct the Britons aright in Catholic
faith. For a time peace was restored to the church ; but now,
when the episcopate of the venerable archbishop was drawing
to a close, the old trouble again cropped up and threatened
to pervert the land. A council of bishops, abbots, and reli-
gious men of several orders, together with certain of the laity,
met a Brevi in Cardiganshire. Exhortations were made and
sermons preached, but "the people were so deeply and in-
curably poisoned that no reason or persuasion could reduce
them to the right path of Catholic faith.*'
In this emergency the council turned to St. David, who
was not present, but whose eloquence, learning, and sanctity
were known to all, and who had but recently been raised to
the episcopate. To him St. Dubricius first sent messengers,
then went in person, filled with confidence in his power to
refute the heretics and restore peace. St. David perhaps fore-
saw how the matter would eventuate, and that Dubricius would
endeavor to transfer to his own shoulders the weighty archi-
episcopal cares which had become too great a burden for his
own advanced years. There could, however, be but one path
to follow when duty marked out the way, and so St. David
sacrificed his desire to spend his days in the cloister and set
out for the council. His power to sway the minds of his
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1897.] THE Coming of St, Augustine. 183
countrymen fully justified all anticipations, and his matchless
eloquence was assisted by the far more eloquent appeal of a
pure and holy life. The Divine grace co-operated with his
Llandaff Cathedral, Interior, looking west.
exposure of the errors of Pelagius, and ** the said heresy van-
ished almost at once and was extinguished." A second council
followed, which ratified the decrees of the first ; those decrees
" became the guide and rule of all the churches of Wales," and
St. David took care to procure for them the " approbation of
the Roman pontiff."
With the concurrence of St. Dubricius, by the general elec-
tion and acclamation both of clergy and people, St. David was
elected archbishop of the province, and Dubricius ended his
days in a monastery that had been long established in the
island of Bardsey. ** As his survivors had venerated him, so they
afterwards applied to him as an intercessor with God, and the
defender of all the saints of the whole island and of the whole
country." So great was this veneration that the old British
kings and princes associated his name with that of St. Peter in
their bequests to the church. *' I grant," so such bequests read,
*'to Almighty God, to St. Peter, to holy Dubricius acres of
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1 84 The Church in Britain before [Nov.,
land, that the holy Sacrifice of the Mass may be offered up for
my soul and the souls of my wife, children, and forefathers."
The desire to shut himself off from worldly aitibition and
unnecessary distractions induced St. David to make it a con-
dition of his acceptance of the primacy of the Cambrian Church
that he should be allowed to translate the metropolitan see
from Caerleon to Menevia, "a place which, from its remote-
ness, solitude, and neighborhood of many saints and religious
persons in the islands and territories adjoining, was most ac-
ceptable to him." There the archiepiscopal residence was placed.
At once it developed into a monastic establishment of the great-
est service in- carrying on the work of the diocese, and the life
of its founder invested it with such sanctity that in after ages,
** when any one had a desire to go in devotion to Rome, and
was hindered either by the difficulties or dangers of the jour-
ney, he might equal the merit of such a pilgrimage by twice
visiting the church of St. David's."
Another monastic house, that of Bangor-Iscoed, in Flint-
shire — which place must not be confounded with the cathedral
city of Bangor, in Carnarvonshire — is spoken of by Bede as the
*' most noble monastery of the Britons." According to report,
he says, ** there was so great a number of monks that the
monastery, being divided into seven parts, with a ruler over
each, none of those parts contained less than three hundred
men, who all lived by the labor of their hands." The monks
"were their own masons, carpenters, and blacksmiths. Their
life consisted of a round of prayer, work, and study. True to
their Celtic instincts, they spent much time in singing and at the
Holy Sacrifice, and in the evening, when they returned from
the work-shop or the field, a loud burst of harmony broke forth
from their humble chapel, often attracting numbers of the
country people from the hamlets scattered around. Thus every
monastery became a centre of civilization, religious and material.
The monks, too, were the constant referees in disputes, and many
a fierce feud was brought to a peaceful conclusion by their
gentle arbitration." The Rule of St. David provided that they
should refuse all gifts or possessions offered by unjust men,
that they should live by the labor of their hands, should re-
veal every temptation and evil thought to their superior, and
should ask his permission in all that they did.
It is not difficult to understand that the poor recruited the
monasteries in large numbers, for poverty and obedience were
their ordinary lot. But that the grace of God led many of the
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1 897-] 7w^ Coming of St, Augustine. 185
nobles to deny themselves the comforts and pleasures of their
position, in order to humble themselves to the will of another,
is a testimony to the beneficent influence of the church com-
mon to every age of its existence. Great indeed must have
been the benefit to the district at large when a religious vo-
cation called its warrior chief from his ordinary pursuits to the
cloister, and when, clothed in the monastic habit, he dispensed
to the poor and the sick the necessaries which his wealth pro-
cured. We read, for instance, of St, Cadocus, son of the British
prince Gundleus, that when he became Abbot of Llancarvon
" he reserved a portion of his father's principality to be charita-
bly distributed to such as had need." **He daily maintained
a hundred ecclesiastical persons, as many widows, and as many
other poor people, besides strangers who frequently visited him."
In the monastery of St. Asaph, founded soon after 543 by
St. Kentigern, Bishop of Glasgow, the divine praises were kept
up without intermission. The community consisted of 965 monks.
" The care of the land, cattle, and of other temporalities, occu-
pied 600. The remaining 365 were divided into companies, so
arranged as to preserve in the church a succession of the Divine
praises all the day and all the night." St. Kentigern was suc-
ceeded in the abbacy by his pupil, St. Asaph, and from him
the town of St. Asaph, with its episcopal see, takes its name.
In the monastic school of Llantwit — the Welsh university
of the period — St. Patrick is said to have spent some years of
his life. For some time prior to 398 he had been living with
his uncle, St. Martin of Tours, and at his death returned to
Britain. " At this time Sen Patrick enjoyed a great reputation
as a learned priest in South Wales, and on arriving at Llant-
wit his more illustrious namesake placed himself under his care.
Of Sen Patrick Cardinal Moran writes (Dublin Review^ January,
1880) : " He was a native of Wales, and he adorned the schools
and monasteries of that country by his learning and virtues.
He was even for a time the tutor of our great Apostle ; he
was associated with him in evangelizing our people, but towards
the close of his life returned to his native land, Wales. A por-
tion of his relics were in after times enshrined at Glastonbury,
another portion being preserved at Armagh." To South Wales
St. Patrick turned for help when Pope St. Celestine commis-
sioned him to preach the Gospel to the Irish, and **the boys
who had reverenced him as a master now gladly gathered about
the standard of the Cross, which he raised in 433, and became
his devoted and indefatigable co-laborers." Right nobly Ireland
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1 86 The Church in Britain before [Nov.,
repaid this her indebtedness to the British Church when, in
the sixth century, she sent St. Columba to lona, and thus
founded the venerable monastery there that did so much to
evangelize our Saxon forefathers.
Throughout the countries of Europe the footsteps of the chil-
St. Martin's Church, Canterbury Cathedral in the Background.
dren of the British Church may be traced in all directions. Mon-
talembert gladly acknowledges that Armorica — Brittany, Lower
Normandy, Anjou, Maine, and Touraine — was " converted and
repeopled by British emigrants." St. Sampson, born in Wales
in 496, was educated in one of the schools in his native land
established by St. Germanus of Auxerre, and raised to the
episcopate by St. Dubricius. Having passed over to France he
founded a monastery at Dole, and on the death of the bishop
of that city was elected in his stead, and in turn was himself
succeeded by another Briton, St. Magloire, who had been his
companion in exile ; and the relics of both were preserved and
venerated for ages in the land of their adoption. St. Gildas,
too, is said to have led the life of a hermit for some time in
France, till, yielding to the wishes of the people, he founded
a monastery at Rhuys, in which he is supposed to have written
his History of the Britons,
Towards the close of the sixth century the last of the
British Christians seem to have fled from England, some " to
the mountains of Cambria, others into Cornwall, and great
numbers beyond the sea into Brittany and other Christian
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1897.] THE Coming of St. Augustine. 187
regions." Theonus and Thadioc — archbishops respectively of
London and York — did the same in 586. They must have been
about the last of the old hierarchy, since St. Gregory writes to
St. Augustine soon after the landing of the latter. " As for all
the bishops in Britain (Wales) we commit them to your care,"
but in the Church of England ** you are as yet the onfy bishop."
In Canterbury alone the ancient faith was practised by
Queen Bertha, daughter of Charibert, King of Paris, who in
590 had married Ethelbert of Kent, " upon condition that she
should be permitted to practise her religion with Luidhard,
Bishop of Senlis, who was sent with her to preserve her faith."
In the Church of St. Martin at Canterbury, which had been
restored for her use, she and her Christian attendants heard
Mass and received the Sacraments at the hands of St. Luid-
hard. St. Martin's Church still stands, and the long, thin
Roman bricks in its wall carry us back far beyond the days
of Queen Bertha. It is, however, not the same building in
which she worshipped, but was reconstructed from the old
materials in the thirteenth century.
"Authorities, unquestionable and unquestioned, demonstrate
the existence in the British Church of auricular confession, the
invocation of saints, the celebration of the Mass, the real
presence in the Eucharist, ecclesiastical celibacy, fasts and
abstinence, prayers for the dead, the sign of the cross," venera-
tion of relics, and the supremacy of the pope. The Britons,
however, " followed uncertain rules in the observance of the
great festival." Why? Because, as Bede tells us, they had
"none to bring the synodal decrees for the observance of
Easter," for they were surrounded by their foes, and for a
time communication with Rome was suspended.
By the end of the sixth century the Saxon conquest was
practically complete ; Christianity had been driven out of
England, but still flourished in Wales. A heroic act of virtue
was required of the Welsh Christians : that they should preach
the Gospel to the terrible enemies who had wrenched from
them the larger part of their lands and possessions. This they
would not do. They could not rise above the intense animosity
with which the wrongs inflicted on them had filled their hearts,
and, as a consequence, they " never preached the faith to the
Saxons, or English, who dwelt with them in Britain." The
watchful eye of the Chief Shepherd of Christendom saw al'
this ; his heart was filled with compassion for the pagan Saxons,
and the " Italian Mission " of St. Augustine was the result.
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1 88 Be Ye Cultured. [Nov.,
BE YE CULTURED.
BY ANTHONY YORKE.
ROM the time that Matthew Arnold cried down
from his watch-tower of culture the message of
" sweetness and light/* a self-conscious genera-
tion set about, seriously it would seem, to follow
his gospel and become cultured. Many in Eng-
land, feeling the truth of the witty French saying that the
English are a nation of shopkeepers, were awakened into a
new life by the magic wand of the great high-priest of culture.
The truths of revelation, Mr. Arnold contends, are not suf-
ficiently credible, and he would therefore dismiss religion and
a future life and bend all his energy to making men cultured,
according to his idea of the word. Culture becomes with him
the " unum necessarium " — the one thing by which the world
will be saved. Cease to be of the earth, earthy ! Rise above
the sordid majority ! Get the trick of culture, and then you
will be supremely happy ! Then you will be " segregatus a
populo." You will be as gods feeding on ambrosia !
To understand this kind of culture one must travel back
twenty-two centuries, to the time of Plato. He is the great
founder of Hellenic culture, and it is to him that the moderns
look. I merely mention Plato in passing, as he is the founda-
tion stone ; and following the good advice given the novice
who in his sermon was lingering on the Creation, "to pass on
to the Deluge," I come to more recent times.
WINCKELMANN AND THE GREEKS.
According to Mr. Walter Pater, who is an authority in the mat-
ter, Johann Joachim Winckelmann was the first of the moderns to
understand and rightly interpret Hellenic culture. Growing tired
of Germany, and feeling within himself an attraction for the south,
"To the glory that was Greece
And the grandeur that was Rome,"
he became anxious to find a means by which his ambition
would be attained. Luckily for him, the papal nuncio, Ar-
chinto, heard of him and suggested Rome as the proper theatre
of his work. Winckelmann was converted to Catholicism and
a place was given to him in the Vatican Library. Goethe, who
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1 897-] ^^ y^ Cultured. 189
followed in the footsteps of Winckelmann, says that he cannot
be excused from an act of insincerity in going over to Rome,
as he still remained a pagan at heart. Mr. Pater ventures an-
other solution to free Winckelmann from the charge of insin-
cerity. He says : " On the other hand, he (Winckelmann) may
have had a sense of a certain antique and, as it were, pagan
grandeur in the Roman Catholic religion. Turning from the
crabbed Protestantism which had been the weariness of his
youth, he might reflect that, while Rome had reconciled itself
to the Renaissance, the Protestant principle in art had cut off
Germany from the supreme tradition of beauty."
Whether or not Winckelmann remained a pagan at heart to
the end, does not concern us in the present writing. He was
murdered at Trieste for the sake of a few gold medals he had
won, and before he died he received the last Sacraments.
In the study of culture the name of Winckelmann is one
to conjure with. He is to Greek culture, according to one writer,
what Columbus is to navigation. As Columbus was at fault in
his science, but had a way of estimating at once the slightest
indication of land in a floating weed or passing bird, so that he
seemed to come nearer to nature, than other men, so, too, in
the world of culture, where others moved with embarrassment
Winckelmann was by nature at ease. He was in touch with it.
It penetrated him and became part of his temperament.
GOETHE.
After Winckelmann, but far surpassing him, came Goethe,
who was in his day the great apostle of culture. Winckelmann,
we are told, was so enraptured with Greek culture that he be-
came a Greek of the olden times. Goethe thought to go fur-
ther than this and to apply Hellenic culture to modern life.
In our own day Mr. Walter Pater is the one whose name is
most closely associated with Greek culture. In his "Conclu-
sion" to the volume called The Renaissance he sums up for us
his own ideas in regard to culture : " Well ! we are all condamn^s^
as Victor Hugo says ; we are all under sentence of death, but
with a sort of indefinite reprieve : Les hommes sont tous con-
damn^s k mort avec des sursis ind^finis — We have an interval,
and then our place knows us no more. Some spend this inter-
val in listlessness, some in high passions ; the wisest, at least
among *the children of this world,' in art and song. For our
one chance lies in expanding that interval, in getting as many
pulsations as possible into the given time. Great passions may
give us this quickened sense of life, ecstasy and sorrow of love.
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190 Be Ye Cultured. [Nov.,
the various forms of enthusiastic activity, disinterested or
otherwise, which come naturally to many of us. Only be sure
it is passion — that it does yield you this fruit of a quickened,
multiplied consciousness. Of this wisdom, the poetic passion,
the desire of beauty, the love of art for art's sake, has most;
for art comes to you professing frankly to give nothing but the
highest quality to your moments as they pass, and simply for
those moments' sake,"
Such is the culture which comes down to us from the
Greeks. It is pagan to the end of the chapter. It means
nothing more than the dedicating one's life to the attainment
of the highest kind of pleasure which love of art brings with it.
" L'art pour Tart ! " To live for the sake of, and merely for
the sake of, the ecstasy which devotion to art produces. What
a little thing to feed an immortal soul on !
Culture, as Mr. Pater understands it, is altogether opposed
to the Christian spirit. It is at best an empty, vanishing
thing — a crown, if you will, but a perishable one, the attain-
ment of which can never satisfy a Christian heart. We know
of sweeter and better things than these false prophets tell us
of. So we dismiss culture as they understand it. We are not
pagans, to be suckled on a creed outworn. We have a com-
mandment : " Seek ye, therefore, first the kingdom of God and
his justice ; and all these things shall be added unto you."
ARNOLD'S SWEETNESS AND LIGHT.
Come we now to that other modern prophet of culture —
Mr. Matthew Arnold — the apostle of the vague and shadowy
"Sweetness and Light." Mr. Arnold, in his introduction to
the anthology entitled The English Poets, after expatiating on
the great things which poetry will do in the future for the
English race — how it will interpret life for us, console and
sustain us — goes on to make this wonderful statement : "Our^
religion, parading evidences such as those on which the popu-
lar mind relies now ; our philosophy, pluming itself on its
reasonings about causation and finite and infinite being; what
are they but the shadows and dreams and false shows of
knowledge? The day will come when we will wonder at our-
selves for having trusted to them, for having taken them
seriously ; and the more we perceive their hollowness the more
we shall prize * the breath and finer spirit of knowledge *
offered to us by poetry." In this exaggerated passage we
have Mr. Arnold's doctrine of culture.
These few phrases give us a very complete idea of his
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I897-] Be Ye Cultured, 191
position in regard to religion, and the wonderful effects which
he thinks will be wrought in the world by poetic culture, when
'*the higher classes will become less material, the middle
classes less vulgarized^ and the lower classes less brutalized."
Mr. Arnold sets aside religion as something with which we
have nothing to do — a thing not proven. We find ourselves
in this world, and we must by using the things of this world
attain our end. Creeds are shaken, dogmas are discredited,
traditions are fast dissolving, and men if they would be saved
must place their hopes for the future in what Wordsworth calls
"the breath and finer spirit of all knowledge," which is poetry.
Such are the sentiments of Matthew Arnold. He might
very appropriately have stolen a title from Charles Dickens
and labelled them " Great Expectations." I do not know what
course others may take, but as for me this is all fine talk.
" Words ! words ! words ! " " Such stuff as dreams are made
of." A Roman candle shot into the air ; pretty coruscations of
pink and blue lights, and then a stick falls to the earth — and
so falls Mr. Arnold's doctrine of culture.
One thing which may be noted in passing is, that both
Mr. Pater and Mr. Arnold agree that Protestantism " in se " is
a direct enemy of culture. Mr. Pater explains Winckelmann's
desire to leave Germany for Rome because he was sick unto
death of " crabbed Protestantism." Mr. Arnold seems to have
felt in the same way about it. He is credited by Augustine
Birrell with having made a complete diagnosis of dissent. He
is said to have been able, after a few moments' conversation
with any individual Nonconformist, to unerringly assign him
to his particular chapel. Independent, Baptist, Primitive Metho-
dist, Unitarian, or whatever else it might be, and this though
they had only been talking about the weather.
CULTURE IN LETTERS.
I have stated that as Catholics we start in the pursuit of
culture with the well-defined principle that it is our duty to
seek first the Kingdom of God. We are fully convinced that
culture alone will never save a man's soul. It comes, if you
will, after religion, but a long way after it. We consider cul-
ture a beautiful thing, but we are not to be fooled by Mr.
Arnold or Mr. Pater into believing that it is the one thing to
live and strive for.
Culture — to give a definition — " is the formation of the mind
by which the judgment is able to discern real excellence in
works of the imagination and the elegant arts."
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192 Be Ye Cultured. [Nov.,
In the present writing I wish to speak of culture only in so
far as it is concerned with literature. Thus the subject is
narrowed down to literary culture. In this age-end there seems
to be a strong desire in the hearts of many to attain to liter-
ary culture. The winds that blow over the earth carry every-
where this message, *' Be ye cultured ! "
It was not always thus. In other times men busied them-
selves rather in tilling the fields and improving the face of the
earth; in ''seeking the bubble reputation even at the cannon's
mouth/' and in fighting for love and dying like the Spanish
cavalier. But the old order changeth. In these days Univer-
sity Extension, Summer-Schools, and psychology classes for
young ladies seem to be necessary in order to satisfy the crav-
ing for intellectual things.
In our own country more than in any other, perhaps, is
this necessity of culture thrust upon us. All over the land
universities are springing up like mushrooms. Prizes of thou-
sands of dollars are offered as incentives to writers of fiction.
Small towns vie with big cities in establishing free libraries.
In crowded tenement districts, wives of rich men oft remind us
we can make our lives sublime by attending their free read-
ings from famous English poets. You enter a car on the ele-
vated road during business hours and note that nearly every
young woman has a book. It is weariness of the flesh to add
further statistics.
Some time ago an English critic had the hardihood to give
as his opinion that there were not in England more than two
thousand persons capable of the spontaneous enjoyment of
poetry. Taking this opinion as a basis of conjecture, one hopes
it is not unpatriotic to say that when there is question of this
side of the water, the number is beautifully less.
The anonymous author of America and the Americans^ after
noting the fact that in Chicago he found the air surcharged
with Plato and Browning, waxes angry because of the incessant
talk about culture when there is so little of the real thing in
existence there. " I know men and women in France, in Russia*
in Italy," he indignantly exclaims, " who speak and read half a
dozen languages, who have travelled over all Europe and much
of the East, who know and have learned much from distinguished
people all over the world, who have gone through the hard con-
tinental school and university training, and who do not dream
that any one thinks them men and women of pre-eminent culture.
•' But here, God bless you ! these women, who only just
know how to write their notes of invitation and their letters
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1 897-] Be Ye Cultured. 193
properly, talk of culture. It reminds me of Boston, of Con-
cord again, and of Plymouth, where, as here, the side issues of
life, the fringe, the beads, the ornaments of the intellectual
life, are worn tricked out on the cheap and shabby stufi of an
utterly inadequate preliminary mental drill."
The charge made in the above passage is n5 new one, and I
must confess that I believe there is a great deal of truth in it.
We talk a great deal about culture, but one fancies there is not
so much of it current among us. The country is young yet and
time will do a great deal. For the present it would be well
to free our minds from cant and learn not to parade as great
knowledge what is merely its passementerie.
THE ROYAL ROAD.
In a recent essay Mr. Augustine Birrell points out the
special mental exercise which, to his mind, will most likely cul-
tivate a good taste. First, ** a careful study of the great models
of perfection existing in the subject you are dealing with.**
And he considers Homer, Virgil, and Dante better models of
style and diction than Shakspere and Milton, because the diffi-
culties attending the study of the former give a better training
to the mind. Second, "Next to the accurate study of some of
the great models of perfection I place an easy, friendly, and not
necessarily a very accurate acquaintance with at least one other
modern European language, and if it is to be but one, let it
be French.*' Third, " I would urge upon the young people I
see before me to form the habit of reading books of sound
and sensible reputation.** Fourth, " There is, of course, another
kind of mental exercise necessary for the formation of taste,
but it needs no time spent upon it. I mean the actual pro-
cess of making comparisons ! *' " By labor and thought, by
humility, docility, and attention, it is within the power of each
one of us to acquire a fair share of good taste.'*
The opinion Mr. Birrell expresses in this last sentence is an
encouraging one. Culture is not an impossible thing to attain.
Patient study, with a few little virtues like humility and docil-
ity thrown in, will do the thing for us. Let us then be up
and doing !
It is a race that must be run in the dust and the heat, but
it is well worth the running. It will not do for us all that
Mr. Arnold imagined, but it will save us from Philistinism and
prepare the way for our doing great things for the church in
this country.
VOL. Lxvi.— 13
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1897.] The Judgment Lilies. 195
THE JUDGMENT LILIES.
BY MARGARET KENNA.
^HEY had not been watered these ten years, and
yet they bloomed on, the imperishable lilies !
Jeanne knelt and gazed at them, as a woman
gazes at a child she has parted from and sees
only once in a sad while. The dew fell, wring-
ing the fragrance from their deep hearts. A cobweb stretched
from one blossom to another with a trail of tears across the
distance. The perfume peopled the night with pleading faces.
She lifted her eyes to the white wings of her cap, then she
looked over her shoulder to her wooden shoes and, clasping her
gnarled hands fiercely, tried to assure herself that she was
neither masking nor dreaming. It was Jeanne in the flesh —
Jeanne Marie Marteau, one-time wife of Pierre Marteau, net-
maker. Suddenly she felt there was some one on the steps. She
looked. She could not mistake the figure there. It was Pierre,
come over the hills, as she had come, to look at the house which
they had left ten years ago to travel separate ways. A sus-
picion, scorn, and then the long, long silence ! He was ten
years older, in the actual shining of the sun or the wash of
the waves — twice ten years older in his wan look. Over his
once rosy face a shadow, as black as a crow's wing, hung.
Moth and rust had not respected him in his grief. Jeanne
saw it with sad eyes.
With a pitiful care, she had kept herself as fresh as a rose,
but to-night her hair was seen to be silvering and she bent
her face wearily over the lilies, blessing herself with quivering
fingers. The old love was waking for Pierre. In her heart
she felt it fluttering for speech and song.
When she could bear it no longer she crossed the garden
to touch his sleeve. He was not there. It was his wraith,
summoned by the lilies.
A man went by, one man among many in the dusk, for he
stopped by the garden gate to smell the lilies, and Jeanne had
never known a man to smell a flower save Pierre. She scoffed
at herself for thinking the foot-fall was like his.
The lilies were like living souls in the stillness.
" We go on blooming whatever comes," they said to her.
«*We do not toil or spin. We cannot set the world aright.
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196 The Judgment Lilies. [Nov,,
The world rolls on, in the providence of God, but we wear the
little garment of silver and snow which He gave us and we
spend the passion of perfume in our hearts for His sake.
That is all ! "
•' That is much," said Jeanne, trembling.
A sweet dreaminess fell upon her. She fancied herself in
church. It was long since she had knelt in that little stall.
The Communion-cloth was spread. She heard the delicate
music of the children's voices ; she saw the sunlight choosing
the curb's white head to shine on. His blessing fell upon her
in the crowd, while the candles glowed in the silver sticks on
the altar, and the incense dimmed the morning lights. The
sad past, the sadder present, took on a desolate vividness in
this holy atmosphere.
With her heart in her throat, she rose from the grass and
ran across the street to the curb's door.
" Yes, M'sieur le Cur^ will soon be here ; yes, a gentleman
waits to see him," said the placid housekeeper, and she led
Jeanne into the parlor. The vision which the lilies had wrought
had come before her — Pierre! She gazed, unabashed. Pierre
glanced at her. Her blue eyes were filled with a silver light
which blinded him.
The cur6 came at last. It was ten years since he had seen these
two. Either he did not know them or he feigned forgetfulness.
" As you came first, I will hear you first, my good man," he
said to Pierre.
She saw the wraith arise.
" I have been parted with my wife these ten years, mon
pfere. I want to make my peace with her."
*' And I — " Jeanne cried, " I want to make my peace with
my husband."
They fell on their knees and the cur6 blessed them.
II.
Jeanne was many years younger now, as ^§^he sat at her
spinning. Her little boy lay at her feet, watching the black
shadows of the grape-vine on the lattice. Jeanne herself was
looking out over the meadow. In the blue distance she saw
the hay-maker spring from his load and kneel a moment at the
wayside cross.
" Your father is coming home," she murmured to the child,
and he left her and toddled down the road, falling and getting
to his feet and falling again, until Pierre snatched him up,
white with dust.
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1 897.] The Judgment Lilies. 197
"What did papa bring you?" asked Jeanne, when Pierre
flung him into her arms.
" A boat ! "
"What did he bring mamma?" said Pierre.
" Himself ! " whispered Jeanne, all softness.
" No," said Pierre ; but he said no more as he went off to
unload the hay.
Jeanne came to the door when she had tucked little Jacques
in bed. The stars were scattered like wayward clusters of mar.-
guerites over the sky. She saw the moon strike Pierre's huge
fork, with a bunch of hay in its teeth. She heard the bleating
of lambs in the meadow. Peasant as she was, she knew the
beauties of a night at home in Brittany.
Soon Pierre came back to her, singing.
"What did you bring me, Pierre?"'
" Myself ! "
"Yes; but, Pierre—?"
"Well, then, news — a sweet piece of news. You remember" —
his deep voice changed as if for a softer phrase in music — " that
I told you it was the fragrance of the lilies in our old garden
that sent me to the cur6 that night ? "
" Yes ; and I told you it was the lilies sent me ! "
" And we thought the lilies bloomed on, with only heaven
to water them ? "
"Yes."
"To-day the housekeeper told me that all those long years
the cur^ went out every night after dark to water them."
Jeanne caught her breath, then slowly, reverently made the
sign of the cross.
"I remember that the cur^ once told me, when I was a
little child, that God often worked a miracle through the fra-
grance of a flower. I remember that I dreamed of it that
night. Pierre " — Jeanne looked out over the hills — " I wonder
if he is asleep yet? Let us say a prayer for him."
She knelt and he followed. They lifted their pure faces to
the skies.
"May the curb's people love him better," murmured the
sweet, sweet voice of Jeanne, " may his bird sing sweeter, may
his big dog guard his sleep to-night and always — may Pierre
and Jeanne and little Jacques be as lilies before the Tabernacle
for him, living for him, dying for him — " The voice of the man
took up the prayer — " And may Pierre and Jeanne and little
Jacques know the cur^ in heaven ! "
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198 The Hypothesis of Evolution. [Nov.,
THE HYPOTHESIS OF EVOLUTION.
BY WILLIAM SETON, LL.D.
" J'ai toujours pens^ qu'on avait tort de prendre vis-^-vis de revolution unc
attitude irr^vocablement agressive. . . . II y a des id^es aux quelles il faut
quel'on s'accoutume, parcequ'il semble que I'avenir leur appartienne." (Albert
de Lapparent, professor of geology at the Institut Catholique, Paris. Letter of
February 9, 1886, to the learned Dominican, M. D. Leroy.*)
" The doctrine of Evolution has thus come to be an acceptable and accepted
doctrine to the general bulk of the men of science of either hemisphere. For ipy
own part, I continue, as I have done for so many years, cordially to accept it, etc."
(" Evolution and Christianity," by St. George Mivart, The Cosmopolitan ^ June,
1892.)
N discussing the doctrine of evolution one fact
strikes us at the outset, namely, that those who
do not accept the doctrine are those whose lives
have been devoted to the study of the classics,
whereas those who do accept it have given their
best years to natural science. Without asking which are the
more likely to have formed the better opinion — the classical
scholars, or men like Mivart, De Lapparent, Cope, Marsh, Wal-
lace, and a host of other world-known scientists — we propose to
say a few words in behalf of evolution, or the doctrine which
teaches that the numberless plants and animals which we see
around us, instead of being separately created, have been slowly
developed from a few original forms created by God in the be-
ginning.
And let us first appeal to classification, which all the best
authorities look upon as telling in favor of evolution. Long
before our day naturalists had observed that there were un-
doubted facts of structural resemblances in plants and animals,
extending through groups subordinate to groups, and in order
to represent these facts in a systematic manner the old-time
naturalists established a tree-like system of classification. Now,
the very fact that the natural affinities of countless organisms
could lend themselves to such a tree-like arrangement of natural
groups, pretty plainly suggested a genetic affinity between all
species. In this arrangement the lowest part of the tree of
* Author of U Evolution restreinte aux espices organiques.
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1897.] * The Hypothesis of Evolution. 199
Le FkRE M. D. Lerov, learned French Dominican.
life may be taken to represent the lowest organisms — so low
down in the series that we may say, " no complete separation
exists between the two kingdoms"*; that is to say, between
the vegetable kingdom and the animal kingdom. But when we
mount a little higher the trunk divides into two trunks, one of
which plainly stands for the animal and the other for the
vegetable kingdom. Then mounting still a little higher, these
two trunks throw out limbs which represent classes ; and these
limbs in turn throw out other and smaller limbs or branches
which represent orders, and these smaller branches again branch
off into yet smaller and smaller branches representing families
and genera, until at length we come to twigs, .which we may
♦ Chalmers Mitchell, Outlines of Biology^ p. loo.
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2CXD The Hypothesis of Evolution. [Nov.,
take to represent species. But, although this tree-like arrange-
ment of organisms undoubtedly suggested that the successively
arising forms are linked together by ties of genetic affinity, the
old-time naturalists were so imbued with the idea of separate
creations that they either remained silent when asked to ex-
plain their tree, or got out of their quandary by saying that
the trunks, limbs, branches, and twigs on it represented so
many separate acts of the Creator. It was not until about the
middle of the present century that a change came over the
scientific world, and it was then recognized that the long and
tortuous chain with so many links, which wound up and around
the tree of life, and which had so puzzled the old naturalists,
was nothing else than heredity as expressed in family resem-
blance. Hereditary characters had been gradually modified
through the geological ages to suit changing conditions of life
imposed by a changing environment. The fact that the earlier
forms of life were, as a general rule, simpler in organization,
or, as naturalists would say, more generalized than the forms
which came after them, and that these succeeding forms con-
tinued, as a general rule, to grow progressively more and more
unlike— larger groups shading off into smaller groups, and these
successively diminishing in size until at length we come to
Species — received a natural and intelligible explanation through
the doctrine of evolution.* And let us say that among the
first to accept evolution was the distinguished Catl^olic scien-
tist, St. George Mivart, while not long afterwards his example
was followed by Albert de Lapparent, the eminent French
geologist, who is to-day professor of geology at the Institut
Catholique, in Paris.
From what we may call the Classification Tree let us now
turn to the Palaeontological Tree, which in the opinion of the
highest authorities tells also in favor of evolution. And here
we come to the testimony of the rocks. But let us say at
once that while geologists have been able to make a tolerably
complete record of the several geological formations, the
record of the fossils which may be contained in these forma-
tions is by no means complete ; only a small portion o^
the earth has been geologically explored. Not only are the
vast majority of fossil deposits hidden from sight in sedimentary
rocks, but three-quarters of the earth is to-day buried under
the sea. But in order to better appreciate the imperfection of
the geological, record we ask the reader to read chapter x. of
* The orig^inal idea of evolution we owe to the Greeks.
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Darwin's Origin of Species, It is one of the most interesting
chapters in the book, and St. George Mivart probably had it
in mind when he wrote (referring to the absence of inter-
mediate forms) : " This difficulty was, however, met by Dar-
win, and we think satisfactorily met, by a recognition of the
great and necessary imperfection of the geological record. Of
the myriads of animals which die daily, how few leave traces
of their existence behind them ! Only under exceptional cir-
cumstances do the remains become fossilized at all, and how
small a part of the earth's whole surface has been geologically
explored in a satisfactory manner ! " * Nevertheless, the palaeon-
tological tree throws not a little light on the history of the
life system. The trained eye recognizes in the vast majority of
diverging branches of ever-multiplying fossil forms, from the
lowest on the tree up to the highest, a gradual advance froin
the simple to the complex, from the general to the special ;
and this progressive change from the low to the high, from
the simple to the complex, receives a natural explanation
through evolution. An excellent example of generalized
characters is to be seen in the earliest bird, Archaeopteryx,
whose fossil remains were discovered in the Jurassic strata of
Bavaria. Its teeth, the unreduced, scale-covered digits of its
wings, its long, vertebrated reptilian tail, composed of twenty-
one joints, point not dimly to an ancestral form from which
reptiles and birds diverged. Indeed, a few authorities, despite
the feathers, consider archaeopteryx a bird-like reptile, instead
of a reptilian bird. Mounting a little higher in the strata
(cretaceous) we come to Marsh's toothed birds, which are some-
what more like modern birds. Hesperornis regalis has only
twelve joints in its tail ; but it still has a comparatively small
brain, while its biconcave vertebrae resemble the vertebrae of
fishes and many of the ancient reptiles. And now turning
from birds to mammals, we find the argument from the
palaeontological tree strengthened by Marsh's discovery of
thirty-seven intermediate fossil forms of the horse family.
The eocene horse f — Eohippus — whose remains were found
in strata belonging almost to the dawn of the mammal age, is
only sixteen inches high ; on its fore foot we see four toes and
a rudimentary one, and on its hind foot are three toes, and it is
hard to believe that this well-nigh five-toed pigmy is the ancestor
of our horse. In somewhat higher strata appears an animal.
*" Evolution and Christianity," The Cosmopolitan^ June, 1892.
t American Museum of Natural History, New York City.
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202 The Hypothesis of Evolution. [Nov.,
still very small, yet plainly more horse-like than eohippus ; and
so on and on, as we ascend higher and higher in the strata, we
discover other fossil remains which look more and more like
the horse as we know it, until at last, in the quaternary,
Equus appears. Now, of course, these thirty-seven intermediate
forms — extending through more than a million years — may
represent thirty-seven separate, special creations : the Almighty
may have seen fit to make the horse little by little. But if a
natural explanation of these many changing forms is given to
us by the doctrine of development, we surely need not accept
a supernatural explanation of the phenomena. But it would
require too much space to cite the whole body of evidence
derived from palaeontology in support of evolution ; we there-
fore beg the reader to read Cope's Primary Factors of Organic
Evolution,
And now, turning from the palaeontologica! tree to the em-
bryological tree, we find a striking correspondence between
them ; and their evidence likewise corresponds with the classifi-
cation tree. The science of comparative embryology — founded
by Von Baer — in a number of cases gives the family history
repeated in the individual history. By this we mean that the
life history of the individual is a recapitulation of the various
forms which the individual has passed through in its long
descent. Now, if we accept the doctrine of evolution, the
transformations of the embryo become intelligible; otherwise
they are unintelligible. For example, in all gill-breathing
vertebrates the gill-slits and gillarches are permanent^ whereas
in the air-breathing vertebrates the gill-slits on the sides of
the neck and the gill-arches of the large blood-vessels are
found as transitory stages of development ; and observe well
that at the very time when the embryo of an air-breathing
vertebrate possesses these gill-slits and gill-arches, its heart
has two chambers, like the heart of a fish. But when the
embryo has developed a little further its heart becomes the
heart of an amphibian ; while developing still further, it has
four chambers, which belong to the double circulation of birds
and mammals. Moreover, the lungs of an air-breathing verte-
brate — which finally take the place of gills — become during
embryonic life modified from the swim-bladder of a fish.
Do not these progressive modifications suggest a descent
from a far-off aquatic ancestor? To quote again St. George
Mivart :***... each individual animal in the process of
* 'Evolution anl Christianity," The Cosmopolitan^ June, 1892.
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1897.]
The Hypothesis of Evolution.
203
M. Albert de Lapparent, the distinguished French Geologist.
its individual development goes through a series of stages in
which it successively presents a series of general resemblance
to other animxls of lower kinds. Thus, a very young dog is
(long before its birth) in many respects like a fish, etc.*' Now,
as these various changes displayed in the developing embryo
of this vertebrate have no relation to the dog's ultimate mode
of life, it seems not unreasonable to see in them different
stages of its ancestral history. And let us add that in the
other great branches of the tree of life, embryology furnishes, in
many cases, the same evidence as in the case of the verte-
brates — evidence of continuous descent with adaptive modifica-
tions.
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204 The Hypothesis of Evolution. [Nov.,
But if we are to believe that species were separately and
directly created, then it does seem passing strange that dur-
ing embryonic life there should appear such indications — yet
such misleading indications — of development from lower forms.
Here we quote again from Professor Mivart : " If we assume
that new species of animals have been evolved by natural
generation from individuals of other kinds, all the various indi-
cations of affinity just enumerated thereby simultaneously
acquire one natural and satisfactory explanation ; while we can
think of no other possible explanation of the enigma.'* *
If we were asked why we have written these few pages in
behalf of evolution, we could truthfully answer that it is be-
cause we ardently desire those who belong to the Old Church
— the church which is to live and spread when the other forms
of Christian worship have melted away into agnosticism — to
lay aside their aggressive attitude towards this doctrine. Evo-
lution is to-day very generally accepted by the men of science
of America, England, France, Germany, Spain, Italy, Russia ;
and since the church does not forbid Catholics to accept it —
provided we believe in God and in immortality — it were well
and wise for many of us to devote more time than we do to
natural history ; for it is only by a deeper study of animated
nature, as well as by more enthusiasm for palaeontology and
geology, that we shall be able to justly weigh and appre-
ciate the converging evidence in favor of evolution, and then
with our increased knowledge will come greater charity towards
those who reject the old-time theory of the special creation of
species. Here we give another and a last quotation from St.
George Mivart ; it is taken from a very significant letter writ-
ten a few months ago to the London Tablet : " In my conten-
tion with Professor Huxley, as in my subsequent contentions
with others, I have always had two objects in view : the first
of these was to show non-Catholics to be mistaken in thinking
the church condemned what to them were evident scientific
truths. My second and far more important object was to hin-
der those who (with a want of charity to me appalling) would
close the portals of the church against all who in science, his-
tory, or criticism were less ignorant than themselves. We often
hear warnings against scandalizing the weak ; is no charity
due to the strong? **
* " Evolution and Christianity," The Cosmopolitan^ June, 1892.
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i897>] Famine in the Diamond Jubilee Year. 205
FAMINE IN THE DIAMOND JUBILEE YEAR.
HE Viceroy of Ireland has directed the Under
Secretary to send to the correspondent of the
New York World a message to the effect that
the predictions of an approaching famine '' are
unjustifiable." He may be officially correct in
denying that anything so disastrous could happen in the year
in which the Diamond Jubilee of Her Majesty's reign has been
happily celebrated. It is social shrewdness to lock the closet
that contains the skeleton. Whether it is sound policy to con-
ceal a national calamity is another question. It may be oppor-
tunism, but it is not statesmanship. We do not know whether
the festivities of the Jubilee were clouded by an occasional
thought of plague and famine in India. To all appearance
the crowds that lined the road of the procession were in
holiday humor. A procession through the streets of Rome at-
tending the triumphal car of Nero could not have been more
successful than the march of the army, the colonial cohorts,
the mercenaries of the subject races through the streets of
London on that day. We are ready to believe that the cheers
along the Appian, the Vicus Appolinaris, or the Via Sacra, which
thundered at the sight of Nero, could not exceed in volume
those that expressed the enthusiasm of London, the United
Kingdom, the colonies, the dependencies, at sight of the car-
riage in which sat the plain, motherly woman who rules so
many lands by the Bill of Rights.
And that Bill of Rights secures to Irishmen the privilege of
dying of famine amid the matchless pasture lands of their
country; to Indians, that of starving in the granary of India;
to Africans, the joy of dying in mines to make the fortunes of
speculators, stock-jobbers, dukes, and royal princes. From bal-
coriy and window Irish landlords and their families, dressed in
the height of fashion, gazed on the spectacle. Who, seeing
them, could think fair rents had ruined them, or unpaid rents
had made them beggars? They should have kept up the farce
"of living in poor lodgings, wearing threadbare clothes, if they
hoped that the Scotch hotel-keeper who represented them in
Parliament should win a hearing for their tale of woe. They
are still asking for alms from the state, as they have been since
1876, when competition from America and Australia threatened
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2o6 Famine in the Diamond Jubilee Year. [Nov.,
their rentals. The only difference is in the tone ; the whine of
mendicancy has been changed to the highway robber's demand,
**Your money or your life!** The government of the Crimes
Act is again in power, and so they have thrown away the mask
of humble and unmerited misfortune and brazen out their claims
upon the public purse with all the effrontery of sturdy beggars.
They are the disgrace of Ireland, as they were always the
cause of her misfortunes. In their heyday their insolence and
swagger were the theme of English satirists and pressmen.
Buffoons in comic papers and buffoons in society ridiculed
them. The private secretaries and body-servants of ministers
regarded them with horror. They haunted th« back-stairs by
day and night, asking for appointments for sons, for cousins to
thirty degrees, for namesakes. It would not do to treat them
rudely, for they had one redeeming quality. They could fight.
But so could a highwayman or a sturdy beggar. They gave
Englishmen the excuse for saying that Ireland was the blot
upon the fair shield of England. They now draw great rents
when rent cannot be raised in England. They have no mercy,
no thought for their tenants, in a worse condition than negroes
under the West Indian planters. For them the tenants worked
without sufficient food through hopeless lives. They did noth-
ing but squeeze rents until they went beyond the capacity of
the tenants' credit to produce- them. Then followed eviction
with its consequences, a page of social misery which no pen
can write, no mind conceive.
How Lord Cadogan and the landlords behind him can deny
the gravity of the present crisis is inexplicable, when the Irish
Tory papers are unanimous in the opinion that the people are
face to face with the worst year since 1848. These organs can-
not be accused of undue sympathy with the masses of the
population. They have hitherto done the work of the govern-
ment and the ruling class with unswerving fidelity ; but it
seems that there is a limit to the servility or corruption of
Irish Tory journalism, and the limit has been reached, at least
in this matter. The deaths in cabins where the creatures hid
themselves from the dishonor of the poor-house, deaths on the
wayside, in the fields amid half-devoured herbs, deaths at the
poor-house door to which so many dragged themselves, yielding
up their decent pride in the struggle with that calamity which
abases the greatest to the level of the least, must have come
across the editors of those papers with a force that would
not permit them to remain silent when such things were
about to occur again. Here we have the explanation of the
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1 897-] Famine in the Diamond Jubilee Year. 207
language of the official or semi-official organs in direct contra-
diction to the message sent by the head of the Irish govern-
ment to the people of America through the New York World,
He has flung down his gage ; we take it up, and so God de-
fend the right ! as men used to say in trial by wager of battle.
The lord lieutenant denies the reports of a disastrous harvest
and pronounces the " predictions " of an imminent famine
** unjustifiable/* This means that government will not step in
to save the poorer classes among the farmers and the laborers ;
in other words, that their only dependence must rest on private
charity and such efforts as, within the limits of their powers,
may be made by the Poor Law Unions. Practically, the unions
can accomplish very little more than private charity. The
persons to be relieved are bound to pay a portion of the poor-
rate ; many of those not likely to be reduced to the necessity
of obtaining relief will be taxed beyond what they can bear;
those who stand in the most favorable circumstances will feel
the burden an oppressive one ; finally, if the destitution should
be anything in proportion to what the Tory papers maintain,
the whole resources of the unions will be miserably inadequate
to the occasion. In 1848 the poor-rate exceeded twenty shillings
in the pound ; at the present time in a number of unions it ex-
ceeds one-third of the valuation ; in a few unions, for some time
crying out for relief, the rates could not be levied because there
were no assets or iiieufficient assiets. This last statement is im-
portant, because Lord Cadogan ought not to be ignorant of the
fact. Why is it? Because the Irish Local Government Board
dissolved the boards of guardians in the bankrupt unions, and
appointed in their place paid guardians from its own officials.
These are now administering the affairs of those unions, in the
same way as liquidators of an estate in bankruptcy or assignees
of a bankrupt would administer his estate. The sealed order of
the Local Government Board is sufficient to dissolve the boards
elected by the rate-payers. This cannot have been done through
economy, because the paid guardians receive large salaries, while
the elected guardians serve gratuitously ; it cannot have been
through solicitude for the destitute, because these jacks-in-
office are strangers, and not so accessible as the elected
guardians, who are the neighbors of those needing relief, men
who know all about them and their families, and who must
possess the sympathy of ancient neighborhood. Then why have
these boards been dissolved? To punish them for not ac-
complishing the impossible. It is one out of a thousand
instances of the insolent disregard for public opinion exhibited
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2o8 Famine in the Diamond Jubilee Year. [Nov.,
by the bureaus which govern Ireland. These things can hardly
have been unknown to the lord lieutenant, since Mr. Gerald
Balfour, the chief secretary, is president of the Local Govern-
ment Board, and is supposed to inform the head of the ex-
ecutive of all acts of administration. If he has not done so.
Lord Cadogan may be officially ignorant of the bankrupt circum-
stances of fhose unions ; but he is not an authority to satisfy us
that the reports concerning the disastrous condition of the people
and the gloomy forebodings it portends are " unjustifiable."
Official denial of destitution is by no means a new expedient.
When Mr. Arthur Balfour was chief secretary, a few years
ago, he treated similar representations with contempt. They
came from every quarter and from classes worthy of credit ;
but he knew better than corporations, boards of guardians,
town commissioners, clergymen. The only thing needed was
a firm administration of the Crimes Act. He is a humane and
honorable man, but he was in the hands of the official class,
the landlords and their entourage. The most favorable judg-
ment to be pronounced on his brother, the present chief
secretary, is that he too is in their hands. It is likely we shall
witness the same round. Some public men and some news-
papers will use language of a wild sort, but natural under the
circumstances. The first will be sent to jail, the papers will be
prosecuted for seditious libel, thousands of the people will be
allowed to die, if the charity of an impoverished country and of
foreign nations will not save them. These few cold words tell
the policy of government in Ireland. Is it not condemned on
the bare recital ?
It may seem invidious to say that the policy of the present
government is due to the divisions among the Irish members
of Parliament. It is an extraordinary policy, one about which
it is hard to say whether it is more remarkable for contemptu-
ous disregard of the interests of the people at large, or un-
wise concern for the privileges of a discredited section of the
people. In no country except India would a small body of
men be maintained in affluence at the expense of the rest of
the population. But the partiality which saves from sufTeringr
the official class in India is based on the knowledge that it dis-
charges functions of justice and administration. For these it is
supported, but the Irish landlords are upheld in wealth and
power for no services ; so much are they the favorites of gov-
ernment that economic laws which affect all the world are
blotted from the code of Providence in their regard.
Mr. Herbert Spencer once complained that particular legis*
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1897.] Famine in the Diamond Jubilee Year, 2xy)
lation was attempting to repeal a law of nature, and therefore
could not be successful. But he knew nothing of the defiant
cynicism which informs the protecting spirit that presides over
the fortunes of Irish landlords. At their pleasure the opera-
tions of nature are superseded. Harvests may fail, famine and
pestilence may walk over the land, the competition of foreign
products destroy the markets, but their rents must remain un-
touched. Men speak of the omnipotence of Parliament. It has
passed laws to import some measure of equity into the rela-
tions of Irish landlords with their tenants. On the statute book
the Irish tenant is now a favored being in comparison with his
father, who dared not call his soul his own. But it is all a
show,. it is baseless as a dream, refreshing as dead-sea fruits
that turn to ashes on the lips. One seeks in vain for words to
tell his wonder at the influence and fortune that rise superior
to all elements of the physical and of the moral worlds.
We are not exaggerating; up to this point we have been
underrating the matter. The land laws are a dead-letter. Eco-
nomic causes have deeply affected rents in England, they have
no force in Ireland ; but because land laws have been enacted
which if fairly administered would lower rents, and because
economic causes are spoken of as rendering land of little value,
the state is about to compensate the Irish landlords as though
the economic laws were really operative. In other words, they
are to be compensated under this heading as if they sustained
loss in fact instead of in theory. This need surprise no one,
for Irish landlords possess a talent for making '' commodity,'* as
Falstaff would say, out of everything. If they meet with acci-
dents in the hunting-field or attending petty sessions, they will
demand police guards to protect them. The guards are found
useful at the dinner-table, in the stables, in the garden, and
the services of a butler, a groom, or a gardener can be dis-
pensed with. However, all these privileges and advantages pale
when placed side by side with the last scheme for endowing
them for an imaginary loss of income.
It is difficult for strangers to take in the full meaning of
the Irish landlord's position in relation to the state and to his
tenants. If Parliament proposed to do for English landlords
any of the things done for Irish ones, there would be a revo-
lution. Still, the English landlord has at least an incomparably
better claim to come on the public purse for loss of income
owing to foreign competition than the other has. He has let
his farm to the tenant fully equipped as a going concern. If
VOL. LXVI.— 14
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2IO Famine in the Diamond Jubilee Year. [Nov.,
free trade has been the means of reducing his income one-half,
and this it is pretty generally stated has been the effect in the
long run, he could only receive rent for the expenditure on
the farm and not for the land. On the contrary, in Ireland
all the expenditure has been made by the tenant ; on this ex-
penditure of his own he has been paying fines in the shape of
increased rent, so that a possession of forty years under such
conditions must have purchased the fee simple at least twice
over. Now, this means that Irish landlords, instead of hav-
ing an interest in their estates, are debtors to their tenants,
taking the limitation of forty years for the entire fee simple
that is the entire value of the estate.
This is a view which, so far as we know, has not been pre-
sented. It was dimly hinted in Mr. ParnelFs famous declara-
tion that the landlord's rent should be measured at the prairie-
value, but, as the reader may perceive, the present statement is
fundamentally different, because it not only extinguishes all
equitable title to rent, but gives the tenant a lien on the in-
heritance up to its full value.* But while running up this debt to
their tenants they were incurring debt in all directions. In the
year 1880 the mortgages on Irish estates amounted to ;fi6o,-
000,000. At that time, exclusive of the cities of Cork and Dub-
lin, the valuation of the country for taxation was a little over
;f 12,000,000 a year. Deducting cities and towns, under improve-
ment acts the agricultural valuation would be less than ;f 11,-
000,000 a year. Allowing jf 1,000,000 a year as the rental of
unencumbered estates, it would leave the valuation of the en-
cumbered estates at the figure of jf 10,000,000, the capitalized
value of which, when land still stood high in 1880, would be
jf 200,000,000. Even at that time, before the Land Law Act of
1 88 1 was passed, before there was a court created for the fix-
ing of fair rents, the Irish landlords had not a scintilla of in-
terest in their estates. On our figures it would seem they had
an interest of ;f 40,000,000. No such thing; for the interest on
that sum would be jf 2,000,000 a year, but they paid ;f 500,000
a year to their agents, solicitors, and bailiffs for the collection
of rents, ;^5oo,ooo a year for poor-rate, ;f6o,ooo a year for quit
rent and crown rent, and about ;f 300.000 a year for tithe-rent
charge.f This would leave them, assuming the highly favorable
circumstance of full and promptly paid rent, a margin of ;f 18,800,-
000, but the familiar fact of non-payment of rent in a percen-
* Of course we do not use the word ** equitable" in the legal-equitable meaning:;
that is, we do not mean an equity that could be enforced by a court of equity.
t It may have been a little more.
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1 897-] Famine in the Diamond Jubilee Year. 211
tage of cases removes this ; so that the whole value of the
landlords* interest in the land disappears. Now, it is for these
bankrupts that the people have been plagued by every kind of
legislative, administrative, and judicial visitation since the year
1692. The skill of lawyers in Parliament was employed in de-
vising enactments that would deprive them of any vestige of
right under the ancient relation of tenure. The student of
feudal law will remember that the policy of that system was
to give protection by status connected with a manor or other
lordship. This was gradually eaten away by acts of the Irish
Parliament, an assembly more than two-thirds of which were
owners of pocket-boroughs. The landed interest consequently
was absolute. In the courts the same lawyers maintained
at the bar and on the bench the policy of the enactments, in
the executive the same lawyers and the landlords imprisoned,
banished, executed the tenants into a proper state of submis-
sion to their will, which stood for the state, for all things hu-
man and divine.
What we have been saying is very capable of proof. Up to
1845 there was a local or general famine, on an average, every
four years. We have elsewhere said, that the history of the
country for a century and a half can be measured by Olympiads
of famine. From 1845 until 1849 famine swept off the inhabi-
tants in myriads, and yet during these years the yield of the
harvests was immense. It was sent to England and the pro-
ceeds went to the landlords. Almost every year since 1852
there has been great destitution in some parts of the country,
and actual famine has reaped its harvest of death in some dis-
tricts at intervals of three or four years. The population is,
we think, very little above four millions and a half; it is still
decreasing, but* the poor-rate is rising and so are the other
taxes, not relatively but absolutely rising. Those who pay
taxes this year will probably be on the rates themselves next
year, and so, blindfolded, the country is driven to some unim-
aginable doom. We write as if oppressed by a horror from
which there is no escape. We cannot see light ; everything seems
governed by a capricious and malignant power whose acts no
one can forecast and which nothing can resist. But, despite
our despair, we hope there is among Irishmen in America and
Irish- Americans a spirit that will send back to Lord Cadogan
an answer to his message which shall be remembered as long
as the British Empire grows great by the oppression, rich by
the robbery of subject peoples.
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Very Rev. William L. O'Hara is now President.
"THE OLD MOUNTAIN."
BY JOHN JEROME ROONEY.
HE Story of " The Old Mountain "—Mount St.
Mary's College, Emmitsburg, Md. — may almost
be said to be the history of the rise and
growth of Catholic education in the United
States ; nay, more — a prouder title still may be
justly claimed for "The Nursery of Bishops," for out of her
venerable halls, in her nearly ninety years of existence, have
gone forth men who have been pioneers of the Faith, founders
of great dioceses and noble institutions of learning in every
part of our country, and who, with a long roll of distinguished
laymen, have shed lustre upon the name of their Alma Mater.
In July, 1791, a young priest, flying from the fury of the
French Revolution, landed at Norfolk, Va. Unable to take
the oaths prescribed by the infidels then ruling France, he
obtained a letter of commendation and passports from Lafay-
ette, with whom he was acquainted. The young man was
John Dubois, the founder of "The Mountain" and in after
years the first Bishop of New York. He was born in Paris^
August 24, 1764, and was educated in the College of Louis le
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i897-] " The Old Mountain.'' 213
Grand — the Alma Mater of the great Charles Carroll of Car-
rollton. Bearing the letters of the friend of America, he was
warmly welcomed by the Randolphs, the Lees, the Beverleys,
by Monroe and Patrick Henry, and as a special mark of es-
teem was given permission to celebrate Mass in the State-
house at Richmond, a hitherto unheard-of concession from the
religious intolerance of the time.
Removing in 1794 to Frederick, Md., some twenty miles
from the present col-
lege. Father Dubois
atte nded a vast mis-
sionary field, for at
this time he and the
Rev. Mr. Badin, in
Kentucky, were the
only priests between
Frederick and St.
Louis. During this ,
period the deep
needs of the church
and the almost total .
lack of Catholic edu-
cation deeply im-
pressed his mind.
At length, selecting
a spot midway on the
mountain-side — the
Blue Ridge Moun-
.' , , J Father Simon Brut£, ••The Guardian Angel of
tams-he erected a the mount."
little church as a
beacon-light to the entire valley and dedicated it to Mary,
under the title of the Church of Mount St. Mary's. Bid-
ding farewell to Frederick in 1808, he took possession of a
log house near the site of the future college. Here were now
erected the row of log buildings which served as the first sub-
stantial home of the little school.
Mr. Dubois' original intention was to confine his work ex-
clusively to the preparation of candidates for the priesthood,
and his first large accession of students came with sixteen
young men who, in 1809, were transferred to him by the Sul-
picians of the College and Seminary of St. Mary's in Balti-
more, from a school founded by that order in Pennsylvania.
In five years the number of students had risen to eighty, the
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214 " 1^^ Old Mountain:' [Nov.,
course had been enlarged to embrace the chief branches of a
collegiate education, and the seminary and the academical
school, as yet without a charter as a college, became firmly
established — each supplementing the other in the great work
An Imposing Structure far from the rushing Life of Cities.
designed by the founder. In June, 1809, Mother Seton, the
foundress of the Sisterhood of Charity, removed from Balti-
more with a portion of her community, and took up land in
the valley about two miles from the Mountain and near the
then little hamlet of Emmitsburg. While the dwelling was
being erected on this land, the little community occupied the
log house on the mountain-side first used by Mr. Dubois, which
he had left for the log buildings below. Out of the valley
community grew the great institution of St. Joseph's Academy,
the mother-house of the Sisters of Charity, that beautiful and
ever-flowing spring of all good works.
But the labors of the seminary, college, and missionary
work becoming too great, Mr. Dubois was relieved, in 1812, as
spiritual superior of St. Joseph's, by Father Simon Brut^ —
justly called " the guardian angel of the Mount " — who in after
years became the first Bishop of Vincennes. He, too, was a
son of France. The honors of the new Empire were freely
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I897-] " The Old Mountain: 215
The Old Chapel.
offered him, but his heart was set upon apostolic labors in the
new world. Elected to the presidency of St. Mary's College,
Baltimore, in 181 5, he resigned after three years, and again
sought his beloved Mountain. The log houses becoming too
small, Mr. Dubois and Mr. Brut^ set resolutely to work to
erect a stone building. They labored with their own hands,
helped dig the foundations, gathered the materials from the
mountain-side, and at last, on June 6, 1824, finished the work.
That very night a fire swept the new building with all its con-
tents into ruins.
Standing beside the burning structure, Mr. Brut6, his face
lit up by the flames, said : " The Lord gave, and the Lord
hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord." Then he
added : " There were defects in this ; I will remedy them in
the next." This was the spirit which glowed then in the breasts
of the Mountaineers — the spirit that has lit, in the long years
since, the flame of religion and learning on a thousand hills.
Within a year, so great was the growing strength of the
institution, a new and larger building was erected, and became
the centre of the group that was to spring up about it. This
structure, so endeared to all generations of ** Mountaineers," is
known as "The Old White House." It is now occupied by
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2i6 ** The Old Mountain:" [Nov.,
the commercial department of the college. Soon after the
opening of the new building Mr. Dubois was appointed first
Bishop of New York, and it is a remarkable fact that each
succeeding occupant of that see', including Archbishop Hughes,
This Spot is hallowed by sweetest Memories.
Cardinal McCloskey, and his Grace Archbishop Corrigan, has
been a " Mountaineer." When Mr. Dubois opened his college-
seminary there were only sixty-eight priests in the one diocese
from Maine to Georgia, from the Atlantic to the Pacific. Dur-
ing the years of his work alone he sent out forty missionary
priests, equipped hundreds of young men with a sound education,
and inflamed them with lively faith and love of Mother Church.
The first charter of the college was obtained from the State
of Maryland in the session of 1830, under the presidency of
the Rev. John B. Purcell, the late Archbishop of Cincinnati.
In the succeeding years addition after addition was made to
the college buildings, and the academical course of the institu-
tion was broadened and strengthened through the services of
distinguished professors, cleric and lay. No story of "The
Mountain " would be complete without a more than passing
mention of Father John McCaffrey. This truly great man was a
genuine product of *' The Mountain,'* receiving there his earliest
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1897.] " The Old Mountain:' 217
The quiet Hours of Study.
education and preferring before all honors, even the mitre which
could, many times, have been his, the home upon the mountain-
side and the work which he held as his peculiar vocation, Dr,
McCaffrey was president of the college from 1838 to 1872, and
president emeritus from that year until 1882, the time of his
death. During the period of his strength and activity he was
famous throughout the country for his learning, his Christian
zeal, and his eloquence. He was the golden link between "The
Mountain" of the pioneer, heroic past and the present — the
very incarnation of the spirit and traditions of the old place.
Only second to him in this respect was Dr. John McCloskey —
"Father John " — president from 1872 to 1877, and again in 1880 —
a true son of " The Mountain '* from his youth to old age.
Like Dr. McCaffrey, nothing could induce him to part from the
love of his youth, and both these builders of heavenly things
lie buried to-day in the little churchyard on the mountain-
side. Nor would this period be complete without a mention
of Dr. McMurdie. Born in London and reared in the Church
of England, he followed Newman and Manning into the
Catholic Church. During many years he taught theology,
philosophy, and metaphysics at the college, and the fame of his
learning became truly national. Likewise among the great
men of this period, whose lives were linked with the '* Mountain,**
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2i8 " The Old Mountain:' [Nov.,
was George H. Miles, the poet. He was professor of English
literature. His tragedy " Mahomet " won the prize of $i,ooo
for the best drama written in America, and was produced by
Edwin Forrest. Dr. Henry Diehlmann, the distinguished musi-
cal composer, was for many years, during this time, professor
of music at the college, and among its staff was Father John
Scientific Research is cultivated here.
O'Brien, the distinguished author of The History of the Mass.
But before mentioning other noted sons of "The Mountain '^
we will briefly trace her story to the present.
The outbreak of the war was a great blow to the institution.
From its foundation it had been largely attended by Southern
students, and at this period the chief attendance was from the
Southern States. The ruin of the South's resources as a result
of the war was, therefore, a heavy blow to the college ; and,
moreover, many of the Southern students remained at the
college during the entire conflict, and, at the close, their home
support had been swept away. This was a source of deep
embarrassment to the institution, which had, from the beginning,
waged a heavy struggle, without endowments of any kind.
Now the college was loaded with a heavy debt and found,
during the years immediately succeeding the war, its sources
of ordinary income cut to a minimum. In 1877 ^^^ Rev. John
A. Watterson became president, succeeding Dr. McCloskey. He
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i897-] " The Qld Mountain:' 219
Father Byrne, of Boston, saved the College in the Days of
Financial Difficulties.
added greatly to the prestige and equipment of the institution
under trying circumstances, and remained in charge until 1880,
when he was elevated to the Bishopric of Columbus, Ohio — his
present see. Like the typical " Mountaineer,** amid the cares
and labors of his episcopal charge he has never forgotten his
Alma Mater and he has regained one of her staunchest sons
and supporters. Dr. John McCloskey again took the presidency;
but, worn by the labors of years and, doubtless, depressed by
the growing difficulties of the situation, he died within the year.
The Rev. William J. Hill, of Brooklyn, a " Mountaineer,** suc-
ceeded to the presidency early in 1881, but already so great had
grown the burden of the debt and the embarrassment accom-
panying it that the college was placed for a time in the deep-
est difficulty. At this crisis the Very Rev. William Byrne,
D.D., vicar-general of the Archdiocese of Boston, a ** Moun-
taineer" of the mould of the heroic founder, accepted the
herculean task of saving the institution. He went to the
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220 " The Old Mountain:' [Nov.,
Rt. Rev. John A. Watterson, D.D., Bishop of Columbus.
Mountain and at once rallied to his support the sons and
friends of the old college throughout the country. Among the
first to respond were the Cardinal-Archbishop of Baltimore and
Archbishop William Henry Elder of Cincinnati. The Rev.
Father Mackey, a " Mountain '* priest of the latter diocese,
through the permission of Archbishop Elder, gave all his time
to the work of uniting the friends of the college everywhere.
In this he was singularly successful. The sentiment was uni-
versal that the college should not be allowed to go down, and
through heroic efforts, under the direction of Dr. Byrne, the
crisis w^as ended and the imminent peril of destruction averted.
Nor can we who know the noble record of the old Mountain
believe that, in her hour of danger, the prayers of her sainted
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222 " The Old Mountain:* [Nov.,
Dr. Allen was born in Lowell, Mass., in 1853. He entered
Mount St. Mary's College and was graduated June 26, 1878.
In December of 1884 he v/as ordained priest in the Mountain
Church by Bishop Becker. Remaining until the following spring
as professor, he was called to the mission by Archbishop Williams
of Boston, and became assistant at Framingham. Two years
later, through the efforts of Dr. Byrne, Father Allen was permit-
ted to go to Mount St. Mary's to assist in the work of reconstruc-
tion. The college had been saved from immediate destruction,
but it was still heavily loaded with debt and in need of many
things. To the task of re-
moving the debt of many
thousands of dollars and the
extension of material facili-
ties Dr. Allen addressed him-
\ self. He had gone through
all departments of the college,
\ as a student, then as a semi-
1 narian, and was therefore
' thoroughly conversant with its
' needs. Joining to these quali-
fications the ability of an able
financier, a close student of
educational needs and the
quality of a leader of men,
he soon had the college far
advanced on the road of pros-
perity and progress. The
buildings and the grounds
!Dr. Henry Diehlmann, Professor of Music. j ^ ^ .
assumed a new aspect, im-
provements were noted everywhere, and the teaching staff of
the college and seminary was strengthened by the addition
of a number of learned professors. Among those who have
for years been pillars of strength to the institution through
their learning and devotion are Professor Ernest Lagarde, of
English literature and modern languages, and Professor Charles
H. Jourdan, noted throughout the country as a mathematician.
Among the faculty is the Rev. Edward F. X. McSweeny,
S.T.D., the distinguished Professor of Ecclesiastical History
and Canon Law, and the Rev. John J. Tierney, D.D., Profes-
sor of Dogmatic Theology, Sacred Scripture, and Hebrew. Dr.
Tierney has studied and travelled much in the Holy Land. He
has thus pursued a course of intimate practical knowledge,
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I897-] " ^^^ Old Mountain:' 223
The Minims enjoy Out-door Sports.
similar somewhat to that adopted by his friend the Rev. Daniel
Quinn, of the Greek department of the Catholic University.
Dr. Quinn, an ardent " Mountaineer," has acquired, by long
residence and study in Greece, a perfect mastery of the Greek
language and literature, and has won a- place among the great
Hellenists of the world.
The Rev. Dr. Grannari, another " Mountaineer," is also high
in the corps of professors of the university.
Through the indefatigable energy of Dr. Allen and his co-
adjutors the debt of the college has finally been removed, the
attendance has greatly increased, and a new period of useful-
ness inaagurated. Nor were the qualities of Dr. Allen that ac-
complished this great result unnoticed, for on May 16, this
year, he was raised to the Bishopric of Mobile, and was con-
secrated in the cathedral at Baltimore by his Eminence Cardi-
nal Gibbons.
During this period of reconstruction Dr. Allen's right arm
in the work was the Very Rev. William L. O'Hara, the Vice-
President and Professor of Moral Theology and Philosophy. It
"was most natural and fitting, therefore, that, upon the elevation
of Dr. Allen, to Father O'Hara should fall the duty and the
honor of the presidency of Mount St. Mary's. He was accord-
ingly unanimously elected, last June, by the council and has
now entered upon his office. Father O'Hara is a native of
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224 '* ^^^ Old Mountain:' [Nov.,
Brooklyn, New York, and entered the college as a student in
1879 and was graduated in 1883. Entering the seminary, he was
ordained in 1887. For a short time he was connected with St.
Charles Borromeo's Church in Brooklyn, but soon after was
NG
recalled to " The Mountain ** to act as Professor of Logic and
Metaphysics. In 1891 he was elected Treasurer; in 1894, Vice-
President.
He is therefore, as was Dr. Allen, intimately acquainted
with every phase of the college life. He is a typical "Moun-
taineer," devoted to the old place, steeped in her noblest tradi-
tions, and at the same time alive with all the ideas of the living
present. As he can truly say of the present prosperous condi-
tion of the college " quorum magna pars fui,** he can, with every
hope for an unexampled growth of the institution, take up the
great work so far advanced by the Bishop of Mobile.
The promotion of Dr. Allen to the episcopate has led to
many changes in the Faculty, and the new arrangement, that
will conduce very largely to the intellectual advancement of
both college and seminary, places Dr. McSweeny Director of
the Seminary; Father Dominic Brown, Vice-President; Father
Bradley, Treasurer, while Dr. Tierney holds his old chair.
Fathers Coad and McGovern cultivate the classics. Professor
Mitchell has the chair of Geology, Natural Philosophy, and
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226 " The Old Mountain:" [Nov.,
Mechanics; Professor Edmund J. Ryan, of English and
Rhetoric ; Professor Frederick W. Iseler, of Music ; Professor
John J. Crumlish, A.M., of Commercial Law and Bookkeep-
ing. There are also many assistant instructors.
Among the students are a number of societies, literary, dra-
matic, and athletic. The Mountaineer is the college paper,
edited by a staff of students, which last year comprised :
William E. Kennedy, '97, Editor-in-chief ; Edward B. Kenna,
'98, Exchange Editor; Leo A. McTighe, '97, Business Manager;
Associate Editors : James Gibbons, '97 ; Michael P. Kirby, '97 ;
John J. McEvoy, '98 ; J.
B. W. Gardiner, '98 ;
Daniel J. Murphy, '98 ;
Bernard J. Mahoney, '99 ;
William M. McCormick,
*99 ; Leo H. Joyce, 1900.
It is a noteworthy fact
in the history of Mount
St. Mary's that all who
have ever come within
her influence, either as
students or professors,
have ever afterward been
devoted " Mountaineers."
The loyalty of the sons
of the Mountain to their
Alma Mater is a never-
failing c h a racteristic.
This fact has almost
passed into a proverb : it
A. v. D. w^ATTERsoN, EsQ., DISTINGUISHED jg eQuallv as true of the
Lawyer of Pittsburg. ,
veteran of many years,
whose college days date back to the early years of Dr. McCaf-
frey, as of the graduates of the latest scholastic term. Nor
has graduation alone been a test ; some of her most loyal fol-
lowers did not complete their terms, but nevertheless took
their degrees in devotion to the old college. This feeling,
which is universal and persistent, is the foundation of the
Alumni Association of Mount St. Mary's. Much of the vigor
that now characterizes the association is due to the efforts
and devotion of A. V. D. Watterson, Esq., a distinguished
lawyer of Pittsburg and brother of Bishop Watterson, and
Thomas J. McTighe, of New York, the well-known elec-
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1897.] ** T^^ Old Mountain:' 227
Thomas J. McTighe, of New York.
trician, pillars of the ** Mountain " among the laymen. Each
has been president of the association, and no commencement
appears complete without these staunch friends of the college.
The association holds an annual banquet on a grand scale,
which serves as an occasion for the glorification of Alma Ma-
ter and reunion of all generations of her sons. At these din-
ners, which are held in the leading cities by turn and occasion-
ally at the college, bishops and archbishops, priests, judges,
doctors, lawyers, and literary men of distinction sit side by
side, on terms of perfect equality, with the latest graduate or
student who has finished his studies. That is the charm of
the assemblages. The old days are revived and the glories of
the " Mountain " sung once more. The present officers of the
Alumni Association are : President, John Jerome Rooney ; Vice-
Presidents, Thomas J. McTighe, A. V. D. Watterson, John
W. McFadden, William T. Cashman, Haldeman O'Connor, Rev.
James Callaghan, C. A. Grasselli, C. B. Ernst, Joseph Butler,
John D. Lagarde, Rev. T. A. Doran, Rev. P. L. Duffy: Sec-
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228 " The Old Mountain:' [Nov.
retary, Rev. B. J. Bradley; Treasurer, Very Rev. William L.
O'Hara (ex-officio).
The Mountaineer is naturally proud of the list of distin
guished men, in every walk of life, who have owed their alle-
giance to his Alma Mater. And first in this connection may
be given the names of the Presidents. These are: Right Rev.
John Dubois, Very Rev. Michael Duborg Egan, Very Rev.
John Gerry, Very Rev. John B. Purcell, Very Rev. James B.
Jamison, Very Rev. Thomas L. Butler, Very Rev. John Mc-
Caffrey, Very Rev. John McCloskey, Very Rev. John A.
Watterson, Very Rev. William J. Hill, Very Rev. William
Byrne, Very Rev. Edward P. Allen, Very Rev. William L.
O'Hara.
That the title " The Nursery of Bishops " is not undeserved
let this list of ** Mountain " prelates prove :
His Eminence John Cardinal McCloskey, Archbishop of
New York ; Most Rev. John Hughes, Archbishop of New York ;
Most Rev. Michael A. Corrigan, Archbishop of New York ;
Most Rev. John B. Purcell, Archbishop of Cincinnati ; Most
Rev. John Henry Elder, Archbishop of Cincinnati ; Right Rev.
Simon Gabriel Brut6, Bishop of Vincennes, Ind.; Right Rev.
Francis Silas Chatard, Bishop of Vincennes ; Right Rev. John
Dubois, Bishop of New York ; Right Rev. John Conroy, Bishop
of Albany ; Right Rev. George A. Carrell, Bishop of Covington,
Ky.; Right Rev. Edward Fitzgerald, Bishop of Little Rock;
Right Rev. Francis X. Gartland, Bishop of Savannah ; Right
Rev. T. A. Becker, Bishop of Savannah ; Right Rev. Richard Gil-
mour. Bishop of Cleveland; Right Rev. John Loughlin, Bishop
of Brooklyfi ; Right Rev. F. P. McFarland, Bishop of Hart-
ford, Conn.; Right Rev. William G. McCloskey, Bishop of
Louisville, Ky.; Right Rev. William Quarter, Bishop of Chi-
cago ; Right Rev. John Quinlan, Bishop of Mobile, Ala.; Right
Rev. John L. Spalding, Bishop of Peoria, 111.; Right Rev.
Richard V. Whelan, Wheeling, W. Va.; Right Rev. John A.
Watterson, Bishop of Columbus, O.; Right Rev. J. M. Young,
Bishop of Erie, Pa.; Right Rev. Henry P. Northrop, Bishop
of Charleston, S. C; Right Rev. Thomas McGovern, Bishop of
Harrisburg, Pa.; Right Rev. Edward P. Allen, Bishop of Mo-
bile, Ala.; Monsignor Robert Seton, Jersey City ; Monsignor
Daniel Quigley, Charleston, S. C; Monsignor Thomas D. Gam-
bon, Louisville, Ky. Fifteen other " Mountaineers " have been
vicars-general. The Rev. Edward Sourin, S.J., a priest of the
greatest learning, was a " Mountaineer," as was also the Rev.
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1 897-] " The Old Mountain:' 229
John Jerome Rooney.
Charles C. Pise, D.D., the only Catholic chaplain of Congress.
It might also be said that the colleges of St. John's, Fordham,
N. Y.; St. Mary's College, Ky., and Seton Hall, N. J., owe
their founding to " Mountaineers."
The Mountain likewise is proud of a distinguished list of
lay alumni, among whom are : Jerome Bonaparte, Baltimore ;
George Miles, poet and author ; Charles J. Bonaparte ; the late
Honorable Carroll* D. Spence, Minister to Turkey ; John La-
farge, the great artist and critic; General James M. Cole, of
Md.; Governor John Lee Carroll, Md.; Judge William McSher-
ry, the historian of Maryland ; Justice White, of the Supreme
Court ; Judge N. Charles Burke, of Towson, Md.; Dr. Joseph
Meredith Tonor and Mr. Lawrence Gardner, of Washington ;
Dr. Gunning S. Bedford, the great gynecologist of New York ;
Dr. Charles Carroll Lee, of New York. Many other names
distinguished in the professions and in business could be men-
tioned, but these will show what manner of men some of the
Mountain's sons have been and are.
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230 " The Old Mountain:' [Nov.,
The story of " The Mountain " would lack an essential touch
if allusion were not made to the scene of natural beauty in
which the old college is set. Overlooking the entire valley and
visible for many miles, the Church of Mount St. Mary's rests
upon the mountain-side. Its white walls and cross shine in the
sun and serve as a beacon for returning " Mountaineers." The
college buildings are on the slope a little farther down, the struc-
tures being of gray granite, hewn from the surrounding hills.
Nothing can surpass the charm of the place, with its woods,
streams, orchards of apple and peach trees, the near-by garden
and vineyard, and in early spring and autumn these charms
are heightened a hundred-fold.
Upon the mountain-side above the college is the beautiful
Grotto — a shrine to the Virgin Mother under whose name and
protection Mount St. Mary's has lived and worked. The top-
most point of the mountain upon which the college stands — or
rather of a twin mountain making two in one — has been named,
from time immemorial, " Indian Lookout.'* From this rock a
sweeping view of the valley may be obtained. The prospect
is largely toward Pennsylvania, and the field of Gettysburg.
Little Round Top and the historic road leading from Emmits-
burg (" The Emmitsburg road " of the war reports) are plainly
visible. It is a tradition that from this point some of the
" Mountaineers " of the war period watched the movement of
the troops and heard the booming of the guns during the
great battle. Large bodies of troops passed the college before
and after the fight.
Have you ever heard of the Mountain water ? Old Dr. Mc-
Caffrey held, as one of the principles of his life, the duty of
praising the truly crystal springs that bubble up on the " rear
terrace " of the college grounds. And truly this water is su-
perb. Many good bishops and learned judges have declared
that they have come miles out of their way to taste the " Moun-
tain " water — and no doubt, too, the " Mountain " hospitality,
which flows as perennially as the springs.
Founded in a wilderness, with no apparent aid from fortune,
by men poor in purse but rich in every noble quality and burn-
ing with the love of God and man. Mount St. Mary's College
has grown and survived as by a special providence. To-day
she stands on an unassailable foundation, strong in a ne^v
youth for the work before her, doubly strong and hopeful in
the love of her sons and the admiration and support of all
friends of higher Catholic education.
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1897.] Ho IV SHALL We win the New-Englander? 231
HOW SHALL WE WIN THE NEW-ENGLANDER ?
BY REV. ARTHUR M. CLARK.
[ILL Catholic New England hold the place which
Puritan New England has maintained in the
intellectual, social, and political life of our
country ? " This question was asked lately in
an article on New England.
Those of us who are so fortunate as to possess the inspiring
hopes, the expectations of the late Very Rev, Isaac T. Hecker,
are of the opinion that not New England only, but America
will be dominated largely by Catholic sentiment, and that from
New England will go forth a stream of Catholicity that shall
influence religious opinion in the rest of the country, as politi-
cal opinion from the same source has made its mark wherever
the New-Englander has carried it. We are of the opinion that
the winning of this land to Christ will be the greatest conquest
which the church has ever made in the world, and we look
with confidence for the day when it shall be accomplished. It
is our hope now, but as we watch the trend of affairs that
hope is being rapidly merged into conviction ; and priests are
now ordained who before they shall be called to their reward
will stand at the doors of the church welcoming the multi-
tude of seekers after truth and the searchers after God who
will come to the portals of the edifice of faith.
Almighty God has not placed the church of his building in
this last of the great empires of the world for naught. It is
little short of blasphemy to suppose that his church is to shine
here for a century or two, and then become lost in the dark-
ness of irreligion ; or to sound her voice for twenty decades,
and then to allow the echoes to die away amid the clangor of
a thousand voices that rave of anarchy, agnosticism, free-
thought, and rationalism. No ; '' a city that is set upon a hill
cannot be hid." " Shake thyself from the dust, arise, sit up, O
Jerusalem : loose thy bands from off thy neck, O captive
daughter of Sion. O poor little one, tossed with tempest, with-
out all comfort, behold I will lay thy stones in order, and will
lay thy foundations with sapphires.'* If ever there were in the
world an opportunity to see the fulfilment of these wondrous
prophecies of Isaias, it is in this our well-beloved country, and
in the twentieth century upon which we are entering.
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232 How SHALL WE WIN THE NEW-ENGLANDER ? [Nov.,
Taking New England as the type of this land of ours, how
shall we go to work to win it to the truth? The question is
answered partly by the momentous events which have come to
pass during the past four years. Single-handed and alone, but
full of the Spirit of the Lord, a priest went before the non-
Catholic people and preached the Word of Life. People thought
lightly of the probability of success when they measured the
herculean task he had before him. A year went by, and the
authorities of the church gave their approval to his work.
Another year, and the Supreme Pontiff commended the mis-
sions to non-Catholics to all the bishops of the country. And
now in sixteen dioceses the work has been started, and with-
out presumption we can say, surely the finger of God is here.
Shortly the work will be begun in an organized way among
the homes in the mountains of New England. How it makes
my heart leap within me to think that there, among the peo-
ple of my forefathers, the Gospel is to be preached by mis-
sionaries specially deputed for the work ! There is no work
dearer to the heart of a convert than the conversion of his
own people. That ought to be for him the object of his
prayers, and all his thoughts should be centred on the problem
of the work and how to do it best.
New England is the home of learning and education, and of
high development in religious thought. The missionary, there-
fore, to such a class should be a man of broad learning, and
should know not only his own religion well, but he should have
also the best information that he can obtain concerning the
tenets of the sects. He should have studied them not from the
destructive stand-point, but rather with a purpose of discover-
ing the points of similarity with his own, of finding out what
amount of truth is held in common, and then make himself
the master of the synthesis. To start from the same stand-
point will conduce to the attainment of the truth more quickly
than to follow the old method of attacking and trying to
build anew on the ruins. The New England priests know the
New England character well, and know better than I can tell
how to deal with it, from long experience. They know from
the lips of these people what they profess to believe ; and
from daily contact they know the best methods of leading
them into the church. These priests have been the pioneers
who have laid the foundation-stone of the work about to be
carried to completion. Not only have they been skilful in
argument, but they have been kindly in their manner of ap-
proach and treatment of the Yankee with whom they have
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i897-] How SHALL We win the New^Englander ? 233
come in contact. This last quality of soul is a necessary
requisite for every non-Catholic missionary, whether he be sent
to America or to China. It is the one great virtue in which,
we are told by the Apostle of the Nations, all other virtues
are bound up. " Though I speak with the tongues of men and
of angels, and have not charity, I am become as sounding
brass or a tinkling cymbal." It is the charity of our Divine
Redeemer, who did not hesitate to go to the despised Samari-
tans and preach to them. It will be well for us to cultivate
this virtue in their regard daily. I do not know how better to
do this than to say the prayer for "the Conversion of Unbe-
lievers " every day. This practice will keep the non-Catholic
missions before our mind at all times. Many conversions are
taking place in Old England, and I know that it is a custom
for many priests and lay-people to say a Hail Mary whenever
they pass or see one of the pre-Reformation churches. This
they do for the intention of the conversion of England, and in
honor of the desecrated altar that once stood in the church. So
might we, by the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, lift up our hearts
to God for every non-Catholic soul with whom we come in contact.
Our missionary in New England will be quick to recognize
the natural goodness that abides among these people. He will
see with joy that there is a large class of people among whom
natural virtues have always been cultivated, and he will enter
on the delightful task of showing them how to supernaturalize
these goodly natural traits. And who is there who better
knows that these virtues are alive and flourishing than the
New England priest, who has had the best opportunities of
observing the true type of New England families ?
But the mere recognition of what is good among them will
not be enough ; zeal to carry this goodness to perfection is
necessary as well. Not the zeal which is the impetuosity of
youth, full of impulses which are often evanescent ; but that
zeal which is born of conviction and sound judgment, and
which, perchance, has been tempered by the fire of adverse
criticism. A zeal which is not aroused by the preaching of a
sermon or the eloquence of an orator, but a zeal which arises
from the conviction borne in on the soul by the Spirit of God,
that this is the work of the age and of the church in this country.
The great motive which will lend wings to the zeal of the
non-Catholic missionary in New England is the divine love
which dwells in him. As Christ loved sinners, so must we.
Christ's love for sinners enabled him to die for them ; what
will ours do ? God has not called us into this world to shed
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234 How SHALL We win the New-Englander f [Nov.,
our blood for the faith ; but we are called to do something
for those who are struggling for the light and are being driven
hither and thither by every wind of doctrine.
Let us suppose that we were living without any hope of a
future life except a shadowy, vague suspicion of its probabili-
ty ; the little belief that we inherited from our parents almost
shattered by sophisms of the infidel preachers, on the one hand,
and an evil life on the other. How the world and all its plea-
sures would appeal to the senses, and how keen would be the
enjoyment that we would take in them ! But after a time,
pleasure palling, discontent would become the ruling trait of
the soul. With no belief in anything definite after death, what
is there to live for ? And yet the human heart longs to know
of what is beyond the veil. Can we bear to think of going
forth from this world "into the blank nothingness from which
we came " ? Would not such a belief cloud all our declining
days with melancholy and unrest?
And yet there are many in this part of the world who are
just such as I have described. Our love for them in their mis-
ery, a love which is born of the Love of Christ on the Cross,
should stir the zeal that is in us to do great things for God
and his church in this grand old land of the Puritans. The
thought that there are so many who are in danger of falling
into the abyss of destruction should rouse us to the rescue.
This thought has raised a Salvation Army, and half a dozen
similar organizations, to try to rescue men who are sunk in
sin. But we are the captains and soldiers of the army of
Christ, the Catholic Church ; and we have that which these
others can rarely have, the certainty of forgiveness. With what
zeal, then, shall not our hearts be fired when we contem-
plate the church that is behind us in our holy campaign. Our
zeal will be animated also by the sight of the hosts of people
who will come to hear us. To stand as St. Paul did before
the Athenians — Agrippa, Festus, and at last before the Roman
people — to see the modern pagans listening with rapt atten-
tion, to have them coming to talk in private, to distribute to
them literature and witness the eagerness with which they
read it ; these things will give us the will born of desire to do
our duty towards these New England Puritans.
We shall win New England by our activity as well as by our
knowledge and our zeal. New England has been in the van of
the active life of the Republic for over a century, and she has not
fallen behind in any respect as yet. From her rugged hills have
gone forth the farmers, the artisans, and the statesmen who rule
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1 897-] How SHALL We win the New^Englander ? 235
the Union to-day. She has been the cradle of the people and
the training-school of the leaders of this great nation who have
been foremost in the sacred cause of freedom. Shall it be said
of her, then, that she has lost or cast away the greatest prize that
has ever been held out to her, namely, the gift of the true faith ?
And if the Puritan people are aroused to know what truth
is, no less are the priests of New England eager to tell them,
and to tell them through the medium of the non-Catholic mis-
sion. A mission to non-Catholics is the first sign of activity,
but there are other methods and means by which we can com-
pel our separated non-Catholic brethren to enter the wide-open
doors of the old church in which their forefathers once wor-
shipped. We must meet these people in their daily life, be with
them at every opportunity, converse with them on the street,
in the shop, in the stores, and wherever we chance to meet
them. The traditional estimate of the character of the Catho-
lic priesthood is rapidly changing among the New-Englanders.
They have been taught from childhood to look upon him as a
dangerous character in the community. He was supposed to
be conspiring to sell this country to the Pope. These notions,
impressed as they were upon the Yankee from the days of in-
fancy, are with difficulty removed and blotted out. They have
had their minds poisoned in the schools with text-books which
maliciously malign the church and her fair name throughout
the centuries that have passed. Intimate acquaintance with
a priest in daily matters will soon wear ofT a great deal of this
prejudice. It is a matter of duty to be on good terms with
these people, when we know that it will result in the teaching
of the truth? We have abundant opportunity to do this
sort of work, and we shall find that it pays only too well if we
hasten to engage in it.
Where is the place in my town that the gossips of the
village meet and discuss the weather, politics, and religion ?
It is in the post-office, in the grocery store, at the blacksmith-
shop— or no matter where the place, it is my place. That is
the place for me to be, and there I can find an excellent non-
Catholic audience ready to listen to what I have to say. St.
Paul found his audiences in the market-place, and he quietly
addressed them in the place where they were. There is another
place where a priest should not fail to put himself in evi-
dence. That is the ** town meeting.'* We have an interest
in the town in which we live, its welfare, its beauty and im-
provement. The good order of the community is near to our
heart, and we are as anxious as any one to see that just laws
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236 How SHALL We win the New-Englander ? [Nov.,
prevail and that we are not over-burdened with taxes. Why
should we not be at every public rejoicing. Invite the Grand
Army to our churches.; there is no reason why denominational
ministers should have a monopoly of the religious celebration
of Decoration Day. It will delight and surprise us to see what
a greeting we shall receive from the old soldiers when they
come to us to listen to a sermon. We go to the town library
and find there not one Catholic book, but plenty which calum-
niate and deride us. Here is our work — to see that the church
is represented, not by her enemifcs' works but by those of fair
and true historians. In all the communication with these peo-
ple, in the ways that I have just suggested, we shall find ample
occasion for spreading the knowledge of the doctrines and prac-
tices of the church.
Let us not be afraid that the strength of our religion will
be weakened by contact with these poor people. We go
willingly to attend the most disgusting cases of contagious
physical disease ; there are many among us who have the spirit
of a Francis Xavier, thinking nothing of risking life to aid our
fellow-men in their spiritual adversity. But are there not other
spiritual works of mercy besides the administration of the
Sacraments, and is not "the instruction of the ignorant'* one
of them ?
Perhaps the work that we have had less in mind than any
other is the work of the Apostolate of the Press. The press is
such a mighty means for good that we are not able to esti-
mate its value and power. It reaches an audience that we can-
not reach. Not one, but many a man has found in a news-
paper the words that first brought to his attention the things
of the world to come. A few years ago some one left in an
elevated train in New York a copy of De Harbe's Catechism,
It was picked up by a gentleman who knew nothing about the
doctrines of the church. He is now a Catholic. If we would
Sunday by Sunday get five hundred words into the daily or
weekly paper in the town or city where we live, we would soon
become the friends of the editor and reporter. And with them
on our side we could publish when and what we would. A
whole system of Christian doctrine can with ease be placed be-
fore the non-Catholic people if we go about it in the right way.
And in the world to come what a joy it will be to meet those
who can trace their conversion to the faith to some words of
ours which came to them through such sources as these.
I am of the opinion that it is no longer necessary to wait
for Catholics to settle in a place before a priest can build up
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i897-] How SHALL We win the New-Englander? 237
a parish there. I do not think that I am enthusiastic when I
say that he can build himself a good parish out of the material
right at hand, namely, from the Yankees themselves. If we
advertise our services and sermons, and let them know what is
going on, and when the hours of services are, many a soul will
be attracted out of curiosity, and many be led to investigate
what they had long thought not worth the trouble of inquiring
into. Many a soul has been won to the church who was first
attracted by seeing an advertisement of Catholic services in
the columns of a daily paper. '
Lastly, and this, is the most important consideration of all,
without which our work will be a feeble one and will have but
little fruit, there is the means of prayer. A priest who engages
in this work must be a man of prayer. In the silent hours of
the early morning he will offer himself and all that he has to
God for "the work of the. day.
It has been said, and said with truth, that the cleverest
enemies of the church are not the ones who vilify her, but they
are the ones who ignore her. A movement of vilification
pushes before it and draws after it the rich fruitage of conver-
sions. Justin-Fultonism may for the time being stir up a good
deal of bad blood and set one race over against the other, but
by how much fury the storm rages by such a measure will be
the throng of converts when the calm has come again. But
the astute policy is to say nothing, to keep all mention of the
church out of the paper, to make no public recognition of her
contribution to good citizenship. Unfortunately, the practice
of some very good but very ancient Catholics is unconsciously
to fall in with this policy. The time was when a priest built
the church in a back street, when he closed the door on the
innocent reporter who came for news, when the high-water
mark of priestly virtue was to keep one's name out of the
papers ; but this policy is fast being reversed. The Catholic
Church in New England cannot be ignored. The divorce
abomination has attained such mighty proportions, social and
domestic vices are so rampant, socialistic and anarchistic ideas
so wide-spread, that like the rock-ribbed coast that places a
bound to the on-rushing ocean, the church builds a barrier
to vice and socialism. She must be reckoned with, and the
more we contribute to the public recognition of her power, the
more we foil the astute enemy, and the more we hasten the
day of her triumph.
New England Catholic will be New England saved.
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^ES OP Il^BLAND.
JOSEPH I. C. CLARKE.
:r hear the blackbird in the
1,
k rising warbling in the morn,
white mists o'er the meadows,
attle in the shadows
^s by the borders of the stream ?
see Old Ireland in a dream?
y a time, a many a time.
Can you see the hillsides
touched with sunset gold,
And eve slow darkling down
o'er field and fold.
With the aspen-trees a-
quiver,
And the waters of the river
Running lonesome - sounding
down the dusky glen?
Do you think of Irish twi-
lights now and then ?
A many a time, a many
-^ ^^ _ a time.
Have you seen green Ireland lifting from the sea
Her pebbled strands that join the grassy lea?
Seen her rocky headlands rise.
With their shoulders in the skies.
And the mad waves breaking foam-spent at their feet?
Do her brimming tides on Memory's shoreland beat?
A ma?ty a time, a many a time.
Do you ever think of night-time round the fire,
The rosy little children, their mother and their sire :
The cross-roads and the fiddle,
With the dancers in the middle.
While the lovers woo by moonlight in the lane ?
For Irish love has e'er your heart been fain ?
A many a time, a many a time.
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i897-] Pictures of Ireland. 239
Have you ever seen a weensbee leprachaun,
Or the fairies dance by starlight on the lawn ?
Have you seen your fetch go by ?
Have you heard the banshee cry
In the darkness *' ululu ! " and " ulagone ! " ?
Have you ever back on fairy pinions flown ?
A many a time, a many a time.
Did you ever lift a hurl in lusty joy?
Did you ever toss the handball, man or boy?
Light bonfires at John's eve,
Or the holly branches weave,
When Christmas brought the robins and the frost ?
Has Irish laughter cheered hearts trouble-crossed ?
A many a time, a many a time.
Did your mother by your cradle ever croon
For lullaby some sweet old Irish tune ?
Did an Irish love-song's art
Ever steal into your heart,
Or Irish war-chant make your pulses thrill?
Do haunting harps yet sound from Tara's hill ?
A many a time, a many a time.
Do you ever hear the war-cry of the Gael
As O'Donnell led his kernes against the Pale ;
The trumpet of Red Hugh,
Or the shout of " Crom Aboo ! "
As they rushed to die for Ireland long ago ?
Do their sword-blades from the ages flash and glow?
A many a time, a many a time.
*Tis not written that the Irish race forget,
Though the tossing seas between them roll and fret ;
Yea, the children of the Gael
Turn to far-off Innisfail
And remember her, and hope for her, and pray
That her long, long night may blossom into day,
A many a time, a many a time.
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240 Disease in Modern Fiction. [Nov.,
DISEASE m MODERN FICTION.
BY J. J. MORRISSEY, A.M., M.D.
HERE are crritical periods in the development of
a novel when, for the sake of continuity as well
as coherency, it becomes necessary for the
writer to introduce either a well-known disease
or offer a number of symptoms which are to be
interpreted as indicative of some passing indisposition. It is a
serious matter of taste, as well as expediency, for the author to
select a disease which will not offend by its grossness, nor
repel by its unattractiveness. In this respect, as in many
others, fiction has markedly changed in the past generation.
There was a time, and that not so far distant, when consump-
tion and typhus fever were regarded as standard diseases, to
be called upon without offence whenever the necessities of
the plot demanded their introduction. But owing to the great
advances made in sanitation, and also to the fact that typhus
fever in particular is most intimately associated with uncleanli-
ness and filth, it has ceased to be available. Moreover, typhus
is seen very infrequently in our day ; as a matter of fact,
many physicians have been in active practice for a score of
years without meeting the disease. So far as consumption is
concerned, it, too, has lost the conspicuous position it once
held in fiction. The public is too well acquainted with the
details of its development to find entertainment in its descrip-
tion. Though it would appear from one or two examples
which we give of its introduction into recent fiction, that it has
not altogether died out. But it is too commonplace and too
prosaic an ailment to be rehabilitated so far as to hold the promi*
nent position it once occupied. Fiction keeps pace with the
discoveries made in art and science, and in order to instruct as
well as amuse, the novelist must not permit himself to display
a lack of knowledge in discussing scientific questions with
which the reading public have at least a passing acquaintance.
New fields of discovery are constantly coming to the fore.
The theories of yesterday are becoming the facts of to-day,
and this being more particularly true of medicine, the accurate
writer should be en rapport with scientific advance. It is on
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this account that in many modern novels the abstruse questions
which deal with the functions of the brain, and of injury to the
latter organ, are dealt with in a manner most confidently se-
cure. The same assertion may be applied to diseases of the
spine. The aggrieved hero may rescue the obstinate heroine
from some grave danger and sustain a temporary paralysis
from having his spine injured in performing the heroic deed.
We know that the effects of the injury will soon pass away,
and in the meantime the repentant maiden will have every
opportunity of demonstrating her gratitude and affection for
the unfortunate sufferer. On the other hand, it would never
do to introduce a condition of paralysis caused by an enlarged
growth pressing upon the spinal nerves, for it would remind us
of the harrowing tales of the dime museums.
Diseases are ^frequently made use of "to point a moral and
adorn a tale," though the style of adornment is not of such a
character as to render it attractive to the select reader. Thus,
in an unmentionable modern novel, a description is given of a
disease of whose existence it would be far better for the youth-
ful mind to remain in ignorance. It stands as an example *of
the degeneracy of human nature, but what purpose can be
subserved by giving the description is known alone to the
author. We have a strong suspicion that such descriptions are
introduced, not so much to fulfil the demands of the plot as
to create discussion and thus advertise the book, which with-
out such factitious aid would undoubtedly prove "stale and
unprofitable."
The prevalence of cholera once furnished a fruitful means
to the novelist of inculcating lessons of sanitation. Thus,
Charles Kingsley, in his Two Years AgOy gives an account of a
cholera epidemic which is not surpassed in accuracy of descrip-
tion by any medical work. That disease, too, has been rele-
gated to the obscurity which typhus has so long occupied, for,
though now and then in this country it may be met with, it is
conspicuous on account of its rarity.
The consideration of more prevalent diseases now demands
the serious attention of the novelist, though the same types of
morbid phenomena existed in the past under different names.
In Yolande^ for example, William Black has given a fairly
good description of pneumonia. Yolande's mother, with her
constitution undermined from long indulgence in narcotics,
stands upon the balcony watching the snow-flakes, thoughtless
of the cold, stinging air which is sapping . her vitality. The
VOL. LXVI.— 16
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242 Disease in Modern Fiction. [Nov.,
following day she is very ill and prostrated. The doctor is
summoned, and gravely shakes his head. Why do all doctors
in novels " gravely shake " their heads ? The fever rises
higher, the patient grows gradually weaker. But there is no
word of a cough or the classic " stitch in the side," or of the
delirium generally accompanying the disease. "As the days
passed the fever seemed to abate somewhat, but an alarming
prostration supervened." That is not like a typical case, but
at times pneumonia does terminate by what is technically
called lysis, a gradual defervescence of the temperature in
which the patient's powers of recuperation appear to be at the
lowest ebb, the process of reconstruction being generally long
and tedious, and phthisis very frequently supervening. The
novelist does not mention the length of the sickness, but it
certainly cannot be typhoid. The exposure to the chilly atmos-
phere, the sudden onset of the fever, the prescription of
aconite, the delayed convalescence, with exacerbations of tem-
perature, point rather to some inflammatory affection of the
lungs. Moreover, pneumonia is a much more aristocratic
disease than typhoid, and savors less of foul-smelling trenches,
brackish water, and infected wells. But when the doctor called
the following day "he would say nothing definite." Wise man!
In pneumonia it is better to deal in glittering generalities.
THACKERAY'S TYPHOID.
But a greater novelist than Black, and one evidently more
favorably inclined toward the medical profession, has giyen us
symptoms of a disease pointing unmistakably to a diagnosis of
typhoid fever. Thackeray, in describing the illness of Arthur
Pendennis in his rooms in the Temple, says he was sick for a
week, not well enough to be around, nor ill enough to be
in bed, but manifesting an absolute incapacity for work. " One
night he went to bed ill, and the next day awoke worse ;
his exertions to complete his work rendered his fever greater";
then for two days there is a gradual increase. Captain Costi-
gan finding the patient "in a very fevered state," with rapid
beating of the pulse, hot and haggard-looking face, and eyes
bloodshot. After a few days* more, the fever mounts higher, the
patient becomes delirious, and is bled. Antiphlogistic remedies
are applied, and after a few weeks the fever has disappeared,
or " only returned at intervals of feeble remittence." The
novelist describes the return of consciousness, the attenuated
condition of the hjinds, the sunken eyes, the hollow voice, and
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the generally enfeebled condition of the patient. At last, how-
ever, Arthur " sank into a fine sleep, which lasted for about
sixteen hours, at the end of which time he awoke, calling out
that he was hungry." Any of our readers who have ever had
the misfortune to contract typhoid can appreciate the patient's
feelings when he awoke from his refreshing slumber. Then
comes the gradual convalescence of about two weeks in-doors,
when Arthur is taken out of town, and later goes abroad.
Here is a description* embodying the most salient symptoms of
typhoid, given with a master-hand, no detail being lost which
adds exactness to the diagnosis, and which at the same time
displays the marvellous artistic power possessed by the incom-
parable novelist.
We may question the practicability of Dr. Goodenough's
treatment with blisters and bleeding, for in this enlightened
and scientific age we should put him into a bath, and, if we
knew no better, administer antipyretics; but Arthur got well,
and after all that is the main thing, though even in these practical
days some people would rather die scientifically, under the care
of their chosen physicians, than be cured unscientifically by
others.
DICKENS VAGUE IN DISEASE DESCRIPTION.
In Dickens we find many of the young people passing to
the " eternal bourne " unaccompanied by scientific nomencla-
ture. It is difficult, for example, to assign a definite name
for the disease of which the schoolmaster's little pupil in the
Old Curiosity Shop died. He becomes delirious, probably from
the effects of too intense application in a naturally delicate
child, coupled with a predisposition toward the development of
phthisis ; but instead of sinking into a comatose condition, as
do the majority of children who are affiicted with tubercular
meningitis, he recovers sufficiently to impart useful instructions
and utter touching death-bed platitudes.
Many of Dickens's youthful characters, around whose heads
the halo of a serene future appears to circle even in this life,
die of consumption — at least that is the nearest approach to a
diagnosis offered by the vague symptoms of their diseases.
Certainly in Little Nell's case no other conclusion can be drawn,
and the same assurance may be give for Little Dombey's de-
parture. Dickens was a master of character delineation, and
possessed a marvellous knowledge of the varied phases of hu-
man nature, but his acquaintance with the symptomatology of
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244 Disease in Modern Fiction. [Nov.,
disease must have been limited, for it would be impossible
to accurately classify the causes of the many deaths which oc-
cur in his writings. As a contrast to the clear-cut description
of typhoid fever in Arthur Pendennis, let us for a moment
turn to the illness of Dick Swiveller in the Old Curiosity Shopy
which bears many of the characteristic symptoms of the same
disease. Dick had undergone considerable strain within a
fortnight, and it working upon a system affected in no slight
degree by the spirituous excitement of some years, proved a
little too much for him." This might explain an acute ex-
acerbation of chronic inebriety, but what follows will not
bear out this explanation, "That very night Mr. Richard
was seized with an alarming illness, and in twenty-four hours
was stricken with a raging fever," followed by a period
of unrest, then "fierce thirst," "eternal weariness," "wander-
ings of his mind," " wasting and consuming inch by inch," and
finally came " a deep sleep, and he awoke with a sensation of
most blissful rest." A description of that character would suf-
fice for pneumonia, particularly when accompanied by the "spir-
ituous excitement " mentioned above ; but we leara from the
Marchioness that he has been ill "three weeks to-morrow," that
the fever has abated, his mind is clear, and he is fed with that
concentration of the hygienic wisdom of the ages — tea and
toast. After that Mr. Richard's appetite becomes "perfectly
ravenous," and he is permitted to indulge in "two oranges
and a little jelly." His convalescence is very slow, but we hear
of no relapse such as should occur if oranges formed a part of
his daily diet, and the disease proved to be typhoid.
" Brain fever," an indefinite term indiscriminately applied to
a large and varied number of symptoms supposed to form an
integral portion of diseases within the cranial cavity, is a
favorite combination with many writers, of fiction. During the
period of unconsciousness and delirium declarations of unknown
passions, either of hate, of fear, or of love, have been made,
and the incoherent expressions of the patient have in many
cases cleared the stage, to use a theatrical phrase, for further
action. So many complications may arise during this period
when the mind alone is active, favorable to the hero and heroine,
that it is a favorite resort for novelists when the mass of de-
tail becomes too weighty for explanation. An example of this
disease is found in the illness of Lewsome in Martin Chujs^
zlewit. After the death of Anthony Chuzzlewit, caused, as
Lewsome supposes, by drugs furnished by himself to Jonas,
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1897.] Disease in Modern Fiction. 245
he falls ill, and in the height of his delirium he furnishes to
his attendant, Sairy Gamp, several clues which that talkative
and ubiquitous individual makes good use of in a Subsequent
chapter. The description of the sickness is rather vague, but
apparently the author intended to delineate some disease such
as meningitis. He evidently possessed an excellent constitu-
tion to have coped successfully with the many agencies com-
bined to retard his recovery. "Talk of constitooshun !'* Mrs.
Gamp observed. " A person's constitooshun need be made of
Bricks to stand it." "He was so wasted that it seemed as if
his bones would rattle when they moved him. His cheeks were
sunken, and his eyes unnaturally large. He lay back in the
easy chair like one more dead than living, and rolled his lan-
guid eyes towards the door, when Mrs. Gamp appeared, as
painfully as if their weight alone were burdensome to move."
This description of convalescence would accurately fit a large
number of diseases, but if we take. the sum total of the symp-
toms in various chapters, we are led to the diagnosis of some
acute affection of the brain, superinduced by the horror of his
participation in the supposed murder of old Chuzzlewit.
Dickens was evidently not particularly fond of the medical
profession, and his caricatures of its members show a bitter-
ness not apparent when dealing with other avocations. Excep-
tions may be noted in favor of Allan Woodcourt, the some-
what irascible Mr. Lasberne in Oliver Twisty and the mild
and sympathetic Mr, Chillip, who had the honor of superin-
tending the advent of David Copperfield, and who so meekly
endured Betsey Trotwood's wrath. His descriptions of va-
rious diseases would have improved had there been some men-
tor near by to point out his inaccuracies.
NEURASTHENIA IN GEORGE ELIOT.
The domain of mental affections has been a favorite field
for the novelist's observations. Thus, George Eliot has given
us a wonderful description of catalepsy in the great character
of Silas Marner, true in detail, accurate in finish, the whole
drawn by a master-hand. No alienist could have described the
comparatively rare affection with better effect.
In Middlemarch she has produced, with equal attention to
detail, a striking picture of delirium tremens in the illness and
death of Raffles, and thought the case to be of sufficient
interest to enter into some details as to its proper treatment
in the hands of Dr. Lydgate. And once more, in The Lifted
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246 Disease in Modern Fiction. [Nov,
Veilf the autobiographical sketch of an Englishman who, suf-
fering from angina pectoris, commonly known as " neuralgia of
the heart," in which the combined agonies of a hundred deaths
are concentrated in a single seizure, and possessing the power
of "second sight," whatever that vague term means, is a revela-
tion of the strength possessed by George Eliot in dealing with
the marvellous. Incidentally, peritonitis and the efficacy of
transfusion are dealt with. Of peritonitis she writes : " In this
disease the mind often remains singularly clear to the last," an
assertion which is supported by medical authority.
There is something charmingly attractive to the medical
mind in the writings of George Eliot, aside from the masterful
power she possessed in understanding and awakening the sen-
sibilities that lie at the very root of our nature. Indeed, it is
this power of entering into the heart — the sanctum sanctorum
— of her characters that makes her so intensely interesting.
Her delineations of physicians are exquisite, and at the same
time accurate, as to the period she describes. In Janefs Repen-
tance she has given us as fine a piece of characterization in the
persons of Mr. Pratt and Mr. Pilgrim — physicians of the old
English school — as can be found in the whole range of litera-
ture. " Pratt was middle-sized, insinuating, and silvery-voiced ;
Pilgrim was tall, heavy, rough-mannered, and spluttering. . • .
Pratt elegantly referred all diseases to debility, and with a
proper contempt for symptomatic treatment, went to the root
of the matter with port wine and bark ; Pilgrim was persuaded
that the evil principle in the human system was plethora, and
he made war against it with cupping, blistering, and cathartics.
. . . There was no very malignant rivalry between them ;
on the contrary, they had that sort of friendly contempt for
each other which is always conducive to a good understanding
between professional men. . . . The doctor's estimate, even
of a confiding patient, was apt to rise and fall with the entries
in the day-book; and I have known Mr. Pilgrim discover the
most unexpected virtues in a patient seized with a promising
illness. ... A good inflammation fired his enthusiasm, and a
lingering dropsy dissolved him into charity." Again, in the same
novel there is presented, in Dempster's illness, as well-written a
description of delirium tremens, supervening upon a fracture of
the leg, as can be found outside of a medical work. If the
sickness had developed into pneumonia, as is frequently the
case in those who are habitually addicted to liquor, after an in-
jury of that character, the picture would have been complete.
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the white blight.
Novelists are rather chary of dealing with such a hackneyed
and ubiquitous disease as consumption. The picturesque
effects which may surround other diseases are here dissolved
in the blank reality of its contagious character and prolonged
suffering. There is certainly nothing attractive in viewing the
thread of mortality unwinding itself in a series of hacking
coughs and unconquered sweats. Yet one of our most dis-
tinguished modern novelists, W. D. Howells, has given us in
his latest work, The Landlord of Lion Head's Inn^ the history
of a family all of whose members save one are afflicted with
the "white blight." So vivid is the description that we can
almost hear the successive coughs issuing from the pulmonary
tract of the afflicted, and on many pages the reader experi-
ences an almost irrepressible irritation in his throat, producing
a desire to join in the discordant sounds. To add to the
general air of depression, we are told that the family were in
the habit of sitting in the parlor instead of the kitchen, from
having it open so much for funerals. This is certainly the
height of realism as regards disease in fiction ! There, are very
few novelists who have the courage possessed by Mr. Howells
in dealing so openly with such an unattractive phase of suffer-
ing humanity, although Beatrice Haarden,^>in Ships that Pass in
the Nighty has presented us with several descriptions of the
disease, not of so depressing a character.
The indefiniteness of authors in offering a complication of
symptoms without apparently describing a particular disease, is
clearly shown by Hawthorne. The death of Dimmesdale,
in The Scarlet Letter^ is open to this objection. Poetically, we
might venture to say that he died of a broken heart. The long
years of restraint and repression, the constant feeling ever
dominating his mind that he was acting a part, coupled with a
temperament sensitive to an exalted degree, would be suffi-
cient to develop in another acute melancholia, but to the last
moment he retains his senses, and we are inclined to hold our
diagnosis in reserve. In Cloverdale's illness, in Mosses from
an Old Manse, Hawthorne has been more definite. The sharp
cold, the intense fever, a " furnace in the head and heart," the
delirium, the limited length of the attack, '*a fortnight," and
rapid convalescence, unmistakably point to pneumonia. ''A
doctor was sent for, who, being homoeopathic, gave me as much
medicine in the course of a fortnight as would have lain on
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248 Disease in Modern Fiction. [Nov.^
the point of a needle. The homoeopathic gentleman was wise
beyond his generation, and, with Hippocrates, found that nature
alone terminates diseases and works a cure with a few simple
medicines, and often enough with no medicine at all/'
It would appear, from the numerous citations we have made
from many authors, as if an acute inflammatory affection of the
lungs, e, g.y pneumonia, was ^ar in the forefront of favorite dis-
eases. The ease with which it may be produced, the rapid on-
set of the delirium permitting considerable latitude in dissipat-
ing the various misunderstandings that may have arisen, the
convalescence with its opportunities for delightful tite-a-titeSj
the slight technical knowledge required, combine to make pneu-
monia an attractive camping-ground.
In Marion Crawford's latest novel, A Rose of Yesterday^ a
striking description is given of the effects of fast living, with
all that the term implies, and the superadded influence of opium
when Henry Harmon had become blas^ to other attractions.
" Then had come strange lapses of memory, disconnected
speech, even hysterical tears, following senseless anger, and
then he had ceased to recognize any one, and had almost
killed one of the men who took care of him, so that it was
necessary to take him to an asylum, struggling like a wild beast."
After a period, the exact length of which is not given, he is
declared sane, and writes a coherent letter to his wife, begging
forgiveness for the past and promising amends for the future.
A week or so after writing the letter he dies, but his death
is a mere incident in the history of the novel, and no details
are given. The requirements of the story demand his death,
but no information as to the manner of his departure is granted.
The son of Henry Harmon is described as being intellectu-
ally backward in his development, though physically all that
a man should be. Evidently the lack of mental strength, the
author would have us imply, is a result of the repeated blows
which the father, in his " senseless anger," poured forth upon
the head of the son. But it would be undesirable and tedious
to the general reader to follow out the successive stages of
reasoning upon the author's part that led him to this conclu-
sion. The idea is rather a novel one to advance, and conspicu-
ous for its originality, though we believe that the fact of a
man's entire moral nature being changed by an operation on
the brain has been utilized in current fiction.
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^'SEEING THE EDITOR/'
BY REV. FRANCIS B. DOHERTY.
^HE torch of to-day's civilization is the press.
Little did the inventors of printing imagine
what a great fire their little spark would kin-
dle. Little did the proUg^ of the Archbishop
of Mainz, John Gutenberg, as he perceived the
first impression made from movable metal blocks, realize the
impress that he had put upon the world's future. Then a new
power sprang into being, when public opinion moved on at
the resistless stroke of that engine whose peaceful revolutions
turn the world onward in its career of progress.
The Church of Truth, ever ancient and ever new, is a wise
householder, bringing forth old things and new, keeping apace
with every age, and employing the means best suited to the
needs of all times. " Time was," says Montalembert, " when,
in the hands of the monk, the hoe was the timely implement
of early European civilization.'* "Time is now," declares Fa-
ther Hecker, " when the instrument is no longer the hoe but
the press." History, in a prank, has somewhat repeated itself,
for the engine of our noontide civilization is still the hoe — the
latest, compound, rotary Hoe printing-press. This is the hoe
which clears the ground of error ; but, like the combined en-
gines of modern husbandry, the press is also a cultivator, which
not only prepares the ground, but also sows the seed for the
great Harvester which will follow. The sower goes forth to
sow ; and, in order to compete with the latest appliances and
thus secure those best results, which alone are good enough,
it is of course necessary to make the best use of the best
means, materially as well as spiritually; and among the means
the press is paramount. The church has recognized this, and
printing has become an important factor in the work of the
clergy. The old orders and the new congregations are pub-
lishers, and now, instead of the slow transcribing of the patient
monks, the white-winged messengers of truth are multiplied by
the power press. Thus is the Dominican Rosary recited, the
Jesuit Messenger sent abroad, and the Paulist publications
scattered far and wide ; while numerous instances of typogra-
phical enterprise appear in the religious journals, under the
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250 '* Seeing the Editor:' [Nov.,
direction of the secular clergy and the laity. But a wider
range of employment is possible in the more extended circula-
tion of the secular pr^ss ; and it is of this medium, the sole
text-book of the masses, that this article would treat as a phase
of the Apostolate of the Press,
Father Hecker was once impressed by observing a coach-
man upon the sidewalk reading a Sunday paper while his em-
ployer worshipped within the church. How many of the masses
get their religion of vice from the daily sheet as it recounts
its litany of crime? How many others have not felt from an
inspection of some of the lurid pages of what Jeffrey Roche
keenly characterizes as "the new or rather nude journalism,"
that much of the secular press has been given over to Satan,
and that the torch of truth reeks of brimstone ? Yet this murky
light, which is the sole guide to many, may be employed to
the extent of the good that is in it, may be purified also to
the limit of our power if we realize that at all events, like a
smoky lamp, the press will not improve from inattention.
Archbishop Ireland, at the Catholic University a few years
ago, advised the student priests to cultivate the press. He re-
ferred particularly to the magazines and reviews, but the high light
which shines in that rare atmosphere hardly reaches the multitude.
Some years ago, at least, there stood forth in Boston an old
landmark among ministers, the Rev. Cyrus Bartol, an amiable
and venerable figure who remained at his post in the old West
Church long after the congregation had drifted away fashion-
wards. By some of the unregenerate ones of his flock, Dr.
Bartol was playfully known as *' St. Cyrus the Vague," but
this was not on account of his once declaring: "I have still
the largest congregation in the city, for my sermons appear in
the morning papers."
The evident application of this remark may incite some one
to declaim against ministers in general, and ministerial news-
paper notoriety in particular ; but it must be acknowledged
that publicity is inseparable from the life of an active priest,
and that, although relying as much as every one must upon
the all-powerful operation of Grace, and while desiring for one's
self "that seclusion which brings tranquillity to the soul, yet
the impelling needs of the people, and the command of our
Lord to preach the Gospel to every creature, must urge him
not to bury the coin in the napkin, nor to neglect the em-
ployment of any good means to the end of bringing in the
other sheep which are not of this fold. Neither is this end en-
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tirely accomplished by co-operation with the religious press,
the influence of which, though powerful, is necessarily restricted.
In San Francisco there is the able Catholic journal aptly
called The Monitor. In hydraulic mining the pressure of an
immense reservoir of water is concentrated, by a pipe of di-
minishing diameter, into a powerful nozzle bearing this name.
The monitor, in the hands of the miner, directs the giant stream
against the mass of earth ; the sand is carried down by the
flood, while the fine particles of gold are caught in the riffles.
So with the Monitor newspaper, in its recent campaign against
intolerance. It tore into the mountain of bigotry towering
threateningly against the church. It washed away the very
earthy matter of which the mass was composed. It sent the
old moss-covered boulders hurling down to their own destruc-
tion, while the priests of the Coast know the number of noise-
less conversions, the grains of pure gold, which were gained
in consequence to the church. All this was the glorious work
of the editor of the Monitor^ Rev. Peter C. Yorke, the young
David of the Pacific; but David did not slay his tens-of-thou-
sands until, in the open arena of public controversy, he com-
manded the respectful attention of the entire people through
the secular press. Then did Father Yorke become the power
in the land that he is to-day.
The priest should be a power among the entire people, by
virtue of his office. Even non-Catholics recognize this, and re-
gard a priest in the same light as militiamen do an officer in
the regular army. In small towns and cities the pastor is the
recognized leading citizen, if by a spirited advocacy of what
should constitute the public, moral and spiritual good,* he chooses
to take the position, and his greatest opportunities come through
the press. An energetic pastor in the South told me that he
proposed to build up his little parish, if he had to convert the
rest of the town in order to do so.
"How do you stand among the non-Catholics?" I asked.
" Splendidly ! " he replied. " The editors of both daily papers
are personal friends of mine, and print all that I can give them."
The value of this position appeared on the occasion of the
mission, when it seemed as if the entire population of the
town was present.
In fact, in missionary work among Catholics, as well as
among non-Catholics, a prominent place must be given to the
press notices and reports of the mission ; and regularly a cere-
mony, sometimes a solemn one, takes place — that of " seeing
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252 " Seeing the Editor:' [Nov.,
the editor." Easy indeed and pleasant is the visitation when
the great man is introduced to the missionary as " my friend."
He is always glad to get copy, and will promise as much space
daily as is desired, stipulating solely that the same matter
must not be given to " the other paper." This necessitates
as many aspects of the subject as there are papers, but the re-
sults repay the labor. At first, one is modestly inclined to yield
to the kind invitation to "just give him the points," but, after
reading the article, bristling with condemned propositions, a
catalogue of nearly every theological note of error from merely
"offensive to pious ears" down tx) downright heresy, one
essays to write one's own articles, thus escaping the old stereo-
typed platitudes about " powerful and eloquent efforts," and
instead presenting the doctrine in its own simple strength,
dignity, and beauty. One will not neglect to give the article
an attractive title also, lest he should read with consternation,
as a certain one has done, the subject of Purgatory headed
the " Half-Way House," and defined to be the place where
" an * esteemed contemporary ' .(the rival editor) may expect to
spend, in the future life, his summer vacations." One will like-
wise employ some careful and emphatic punctuation, or the
article may look like the celebrated Life of Lord Timothy
Dexter^ with all the punctuation-marks in a heap together and
all sense at sea.
Sometimes these cautions are 'entirely unnecessary, and an
encyclopaedic surprise awaits one in most modest surroundings.
I remember, once, in company with the pastor, calling upon
the editor of a paper published in one of the busiest mining
camps in Arizona. We wanted, primarily, to get some dodgers
printed for the lectures to non-Catholics, and so entered the
little hut on the side of a hill where, amidst the gloom, we
could discern all the disorder of a well-regulated frontier
"sanctum." Stepping over a couple of dogs, and almost onto
a primitive printing-press, the automatic-inking-attachment ap-
peared, in the shape of a small boy, very black — but with ink,
for the devil was not as black as he was painted. A glance
about the apartment disclosed, among other furnishings, a mass
of copy, transfixed to the rude table with a bowie-knife. This
feature was not in the real Western spirit, which is averse to
such ostentatious display, and I was not surprised when the
editor, upon whom I had called to compliment incidentally
upon a leader denouncing prurient literature, proved to be an
Eastern man, a graduate of the Springfield Republican^ and one
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I897-] ''Seeing the Editor.'' 253
who could write an editorial like the famous Sam Bowles him- *
self. He was a newspaper man out of pure love for his pro-
fession ; and if dropped upon the desert, with a font of type,
I fancy that he would soon start "a journal of civilization"
and circulate it upon the wind.
That pastors are successfully cultivating the editor, is evinced
again by the copy before me of a country newspaper, pub-
lished in the diocese of Sacramento, which contains no less
than three references to the work of the Catholic pastor, in-
eluding a grateful acknowledgment of the receipt from him of
a copy of Father Searle's Plain Facts; and, also, the editor's
own touching comment upon the funeral of a convert.
This event took place in an out-mission town, where there
are no Catholics to mention, and, consequently, no church ; so,
in deference to the wishes of the friends of the deceased, and
with the permission of the Right Rev. Bishop, the Catholic
services were held in the Methodist church, the choir of which
sang the beautiful Catholic funeral music, while the congrega-
tion, supplied with copies of the Mass Book for non-Catltolics^
responded to the English translation of the burial-service, re-
cited by the priest. Picture to yourself these good Protestants
answering the verse, " From the gate of hell," with " Deliver
her soul, O Lord." V, " Eternal rest grant to her, O Lord."
R. "And let perpetual light shine upon her." V. "May her
soul, and all the souls of the faithful departed, through the
mercy of God, rest in peace." i?. "Amen" — while the im-
pressive service of the Old Church went on before them. " Lex
orandi lex credendi** says the theologian, and, as prayer is a
way as well as a test of belief, this zealous pastor of souls, in-
stead of building a chapel, some day, may need to make a few
alterations, merely, in the matter of altars, and to put a big
gilt cross over the present congregation.
So, in one way or another, the priest who cultivates the
press gets at the people, and this without the sacrifice of
aught which is sacred. Contact is necessary to overcome their
prejudice, to win their confidence. The work is more than be-
gun. The battle is well under way, and the great army of the
church is moving upon her inveterate enemies. Ignorance and
Error. As the majestic array of the great order of Melchisedec,
the secular clergy, moves on in serried ranks, we skirmishers
may soon stand aside, with hats in hand, cheering the charge,
while we shout the signal message of victory, " We have met
the editor, and he is ours!"
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254 Eliza Allen Starr, Poet, Artist, [Nov.,
ELIZA ALLEN STARR, POET, ARTIST, AND
TEACHER OF CHRISTIAN ART.
BY WALTER S. CLARKE.
ERS of art and poetry in New York are not,
erhaps, as well acquainted with Eliza Allen
tarr and her work as denizens of the West
nd South. Chicago, which has been her home
)r many years, is proud of her, and its people
testify their pride and appreciation every week at her pictur-
esque home, where ladies and gentlemen meet, during her lec-
ture course, to drink in the streams of wisdom and culture that
flow from her gifted intellect, with the accumulated freightage
of a life blessed with lofty experiences.
For the last nineteen years Miss Starr has lectured on
Christian art in this city. A prolonged stay in Europe, com-
menced in 187s, enabled her to study the great originals of
the masters, and she brought back with her a large collection
of good-sized photographs of these works, to which she has
added every year fresh prints. These are displayed, during her
yearly course of ten or twenty lectures, upon the walls of her
lecture- room, and with these she illustrates the beauty of the
masters. The photographs are large and clear, and enable the
art student to study detail more readily than even the con-
templation of the tall and often distant originals would. One
can. study the beautiful groups on Giotto's Tower in this way,
while the height of the actual tower in Florence would prevent
so close and instructive an inspection.
The personality and history of Miss Starr are full of in-
terest. She was born in Deerfield, Mass., in 1824. Dr. Com-
fort Starr, of Ashford, County Kent, England, the founder of
the family, came to Cambridge, Mass., in 1634. A son of his,
Rev. Comfort Starr, D.D., was graduated from Harvard Uni-
versity in 1647, and was one of the five original Fellows named
in the college charter, dated May 10, 1650.
On the maternal side. Miss Starr is descended from the
^'Aliens of the Bars" — originally of Chelmford, Essex — who
distinguished themselves in field and council during the colonial
history of Deerfield from the time of King Philip's war.
The atmosphere of Deerfield was cultured, scholarly, and
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1897.] AND Teacher of Christian Art, 255
artistic, and the old Deerfield Academy, where Miss Starr re-
ceived her early education, was the representative of a society
well read in literature, science, and art. George Fuller, in
Deerfield, was a contemporary of hers, and Greenough and
Henry K. Brown, and also Washington Allston, through her
intimate knowledge of his sketches as well as his finished pic-
tures, influenced and guided her early education in art. Be-
sides this, she breathed an atmosphere elevated and inspired
by Bryant, Dana, Emerson, Longfellow, Whittier, Holmes, and
Lowell. Indeed, from her earliest girlhood she drank in an intel-
lectual and artistic inspiration which prepared her for future work.
Although born and bred in the Unitarian faith, a sermon
by Th e o d o r e Parker, at Music
Hall, Boston, in 1845, disturbed
the foundations of her religious
faith, and a sub- sequent visit
to Philadelphia, when she met
and was influ- enced by Pro-
fessor George Allen, of the
University of Pennsylvania, a
relative of hers and a Catholic,
and also the re- no\yned Arch-
bishop Kenrick, tended to urge
her towards Ca- tholicity. The
result was, that on her return to
Boston she was eventually re-
ceived into the Catholic Church
by Bishop Fitz- p a t r i c k, and
made her First Communion on
Christmas morn- - ing, 1854.
Two years later she went to Chicago and began her life-
work as a teacher and writer on art and artists.
In the Chicago fire of 1871 Miss Starr lost a great many
valuable art treasures in the destruction of her home.
Another result of her visit to Rome and the principal cities
of Italy, in 1875, was her beautifql book Pilgrims and Shrines,
It was, however, not till 1877 that she began the course of
lectures on Christian art with which her name and fame have
become associated, and which have won her a place among her
contemporaries as one of the most enthusiastic expounders and
teachers of the beauties of Christian art.
The object of this article is more particularly to emphasize
the authority and position attained by Miss Starr in this line.
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256 Eliza Allen Starr, Poet, Artist, [Nov.,
and to show what she is doing for the education of the people, in
Christian art. A synopsis of her course of lectures, or rather a few
words on her method of treatment, with occasional quotations,
will be necessary. Her first lectures are on the Roman Catacombs.
She calls the Roman Campagna, '' that prairie with a story
of more than 2,000 years." How interesting her description of
the crypt under the Vatican Hill, where the remains of St.
Peter were interred by devoted brethren, and of the spot on the
Campagna called the " Three Fountains," from the fact of three
fountains leaping forth, as the head of St. Paul is said to have
leaped thrice as it fell from the axe of the pagan headsman!
And how kind of Lucina, a woman of senatorial rank, to have
given a spot in her vineyard where his companions buried the
martyr — now the site of the basilica of St. Paul! Miss Starr
says : " Around the narrow bed of St. Paul, in the vineyard of
Santa Lucina, the faithful gathered in .their days of persecu-
tion, sending out fossors, as we now send out engineers ; not,
like us, to bring distant places nearer, but to elude the search
of the persecutor."
" A drive along the famous Roman vias, or ways, in the
first century of the Christian era, would have disclosed hand-
some tombs, their entrances ornamented with pictures like
those of Pompeii, but turned by Nero's persecution into resting
places for a patrician martyr like Agnes, an imperial Domitilla,
a majestic Bibiana, a princely Cecilia, or a noble Sebastian, and
heroic Lawrence, whose grandeur of faith had laughed at death
and earned for them the wreaths of a sanctified immortality."
From Miss Starr's lectures it seems indisputable that these
Christian cemeteries grew from the germ of a family tomb, as
the catacomb of St. Priscilla. The walls of this famous cata-
comb are as an illuminated manuscript from which to learn the
belief and practices of the first ages of Christianity.
On leaving the scene of the catacombs. Miss Starr sums up
her feeling in these beautiful words :
" And as we stand a moment at the head of the long stair-
way and cull a few rose-buds, even in January, from the bushes
that overhang the opening, we look around us to realize, for
the moment at least, that under this fair campagna, under these
smiling vineyards, lie, in their narrow beds, an army of the
living God, whose resting places, as Leo the Great so beautifully
said : ' Encircle the Eternal City with a halo of martyrdom.' "
Another of Miss Starr's most interesting lectures is "The
Likeness of our Lord."
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I897-] ^^D Teacher of Christian Art. 257
Miss Starr thinks it highly probable that one of the one
hundred and twenty disciples of our Lord (possibly the gifted
St. Luke) may have limned the Divine features. She states
that Abgar Uscomo, King of Edessa, according to tradition,
through a messenger, actually did procure a likeness. "And
what need," she asks, " is there for the captious to account un-
authentic that likeness which Veronica of Jerusalem received
upon the many-folded mantle which, in her sublime pity, she
pressed upon the blood-stained countenance of the Saviour?"
Miss Starr's chain of evidence for a true and uniform like-
ness of our Lord, as known and accepted by Christians from
the first century down, is indissoluble and most convincing. It
embraces proofs from the very walls of the catacombs to the
pictures of Christian artists of later centuries, representing our
Lord, all of them, after the approved model. The wine-colored
hair flowing off into curls on his shoulders, the pointed beard,
the beautiful oval face, and the deep, tenderly sad blue eyes,
that had so much effect upon Peter when our Lord looked at
him — all these points are clearly established in all the pictures
of our Lord. The picture said to have been sketched by St.
Peter for friends, and the Edessa likeness, those traced to St.
Luke, and the wonderful mosaics containing pictures of our
Lord, even down to the figure of our Saviour in " The Last
Supper " — all these are woven into a complete piece of evidence
for an authorized and traditional likeness by Miss Starr's treat-
ment of this interesting topic.
The late Bishop Ryan, of Buffalo, after hearing this lecture
on the Holy Face, said to Miss Starr : " Not one link is lack-
ing in your chain of testimony."
Her next step in the course of lectures is in a valuable pa-
per on the Byzantine period, called the Decline of Art, in which
Miss Starr bridges naturally and easily the lapse between the
earliest ages of Christian art and its revival by Cimabue, Duc-
cio, and Giotto, with others. For it was Duccio and others of
the Siena school, and Cimabue and Giotto, of the Florentine
school, who first broke away from the severe and formal treat-
ment of the Byzantine period, and this under the all-powerful
and inspiring influence upon life, morals, and especially art,
caused by the heroic and holy life of St. Francis of Assisi.
Giotto had been deeply fascinated by the life of St. Fran-
cis ; it impregnated his imagination and influenced all his work.
His pictures of Holy Obedience, Holy Poverty, and Holy
Chastity, painted on three arches over the tomb of St. Francis ;
VOL. Lxvi.— 17
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258 Eliza Allen Starr, Poet, Artist, [Nov.,
his work at Padua, at Assist, and especially in the Bardi Ch&pel
in Florence, are all fine specimens of his skill.
But Miss Starr's treatment of Giotto as an architect, in his
design for the Campanile of the Cathedral of Santa Maria del
Fiore, is a most fascinating example of her work.
How beautifully she describes the details of this wonderful
Tower in Florence ! Listening to her glowing words, you see
story rising upon story, each telling its own part of the history
of the world in sculptured design or brilliant mosaic ; for Giotto
was the painter guiding the hand of the sculptor, and in every
premeditated cut of the chisel he saw and pointed out the
efifect in blended colors, blending and softened to the eye of
future ages by distance and atmosphere. With its figures of
patriarchs and prophets, its symbols of all learning, sciences
and arts, and virtues, it may be called the alpha and omega of
the history of man, natural and supernatural, cut in enduring
stone. The Very Rev. Edward Sorin, late superior-general of
the Order of the Holy Cross, of Notre Dame, Indiana, when
this lecture on Giotto's Tower was given there by Miss Starr,
expressed its. value to the world in his characteristic way :
** I have passed through Florence thirty-eight times and
every time I visited Giotto's Tower, but until I heard this lec-
ture I never knew anything about it."
From the dedication of his genius to sacred art by Giotto
to the celestial and highly spiritualized art of Guido of Mu-
gello, known to us as Fra Angelico, is but a natural step. As
Miss Starr says, in the light of his great after-fame, "there is
no one now who would say, * What a pity Fra Angelico became
a monk!*" He and his brother entered the Dominican Order
to save souls. As Miss Starr said once to the writer : " Fra
Angelico painted for nothing in the world but to save souls."
He thus painted with the spiritual touch of the seraph, his be-
ings were as if translated to another plane of glorified humanity,
to another degree in the order of grace. The walls of the
cloister of San Marco, the superb Tabernacle, painted for the
Guild of Joiners, the walls and ceiling of the Capella San Briz-
zio, all attest the beautiful spiritual art and the gifted touch
of the Angelican Friar."
From Fra Angelico, Miss Starr proceeds to tell the story of
the "Three Rivals of the Year 1400" — Ghiberti, Brunelleschi,
and Donatello. Ghiberti won the contest for the gate of the
famous Baptistery ; Brunelleschi, after a profound study of the
great Pantheon, planned the dome of the cathedral, which seems
to rise before the very eyes of the listener as she goes on with
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1897.] A^^ Teacher of Christian Art. 259
her description; and Donatello fills up the niches on Giotto's
Tower with figures hardly less grand than their resting place.
In describing the beautiful details of Brunelleschi*s dome
Miss Starr is very interesting. Oh ! how well she has studied
and shown to the people the grandeur and beauty of these fine
cathedrals, has explained the symbolical meaning, the artistic
trend, the blended and harmonious suggestiveness contained
in Gothic arch, groined ceiling, or massiolated turret, in niche
rising over niche, and dome encircling dome!
The works of architects and sculptors like these we are
speaking of — the bronze of Ghiberti, the rare glass-work of
Donatello, and the mingling in endless beauty of design of Bru-
nelleschi's stone and brick — might still be unappreciated by a
preoccupied age but for interpreters like Miss Starr.
How many of us would have thoroughly appreciated Turner
but for a Ruskin ? How many have gazed on Giotto's Tower or
II Duomo and not understood them until interpreted by the
gentle, spiritualized woman who has studied them with the
breadth of a life's culture and the purity of a mind refined by
faith and prayer ?
Then the third rival, Donatello, so gentle, so sunny, so lova-
ble, is treated in a lecture ; the beauty of his Magdalen and
other statues, and his fine reliefs, she says, rivalling the Greek art
in its fidelity to life, and surpassing it from having in addition
the spiritual touch of the Christian artist.
After Luca della Robbia, of a great Florentine family, is
treated. Ghiberti trained him. His bas-reliefs, his groups for
the grand organ, his panels on Giotto's Tower, are all instinct
with life and motion. And his magnificently designed great
bronze door leading into the sacristy of Santa Maria del Fiore
— what a superb piece of work !
Next come the two great masters, Michael Angelo and Ra-
phael. Michael Angelo is efficiently treated from his first work,
the " Pietk," in St. Peter's Basilica, to his famous ** Last Judg-
ment," in the Sistine Chapel ; while Raphael is portrayed from
the very earliest artistic influences at Urbino, under the gui-
dance of his father, Giovanni Sanzio, all through his famous
Florentine work, to the frescoes, putting the climax to his fame,
in the Camera della Segnatura of the Vatican, and, as Miss
Starr regards it, " the inspired Sistine Madonna at Dresden."
Then the course brings us to a study of modern artists who are
pervaded by the Christian spirit — to Overbeck and Millet, and the
school of great German artists, almost unknown in this country
but for the series of artistic Dusseldorf prints recently issued.
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26o Eliza Allen Starr. [Nov.,
Following next comes the Beuron school of art, thoroughly
treated by Miss Starr, which found its full blossoming at Monte
Casino and a fitting commemoration in the celebration of the
fourteenth anniversary of the Benedictine Order.
Finally she treats, with a sisterly hand, the American ideal
school of art, represented by Washington Allston, William
Story ; W. K. Brown, the famous sculptor whose work New-
Yorkers daily gaze on with admiration ; George Fuller, who
drew a fine crayon of Miss Starr when she was a maiden of
twenty summers only, now in Miss Starr's home in Chicago;
Harriet G. Hosmer, still using her gifted hand and mind in
sculpture, besides Sarah Freeman Clark, and others.
In conclusion, it should be stated that Miss Starr's course
contains eighty lectures and is most efficient and exhaustive,
covering the whole history of Christian art.
It is in vain to exclude from the mind the importance and
beauty of the Christian art heritage, as it is the most precious
possession of civilization extant.
Imbued with deep knowledge of it from the first century to
the present, with enthusiastic love of it and veneration for its
spiritual lessons, learned in the motives of sanctity that inspired
the brush and guided the chisel of Christian artists, devoting
her life to research for new materials, Miss Starr is pre-
eminently a teacher, an expounder and interpreter of the
masters, whose authority cannot be questioned nor position
assailed. In addition, her beautiful lyrics, and especially her
well-known works, Pilgrims and Shrines and The Three Keys^
have already found a high place in contemporary literature.
We cannot help saying that all through her lectures is noted
the charm of treatment, the inspiration of the subject, caught
and mirrored in her own person to the audience itself. Listen-
ing to her lecture on Giotto's Tower, one is riveted by the
deep, spiritual magnetism of her countenance, the kindling of
her eyes over the beauty of the subject, and becomes in his
turn aglow with the exalted spirit of the lecturer.
It is said night-belated pedestrians, passing her residence in
the wee small hours, have seen the steady glow of the night-
lamp in her studio, as she continued far into the morning the
researches on her beloved theme.
She is yet vigorous in her voice and gesture, and her face
shows only the deepening lines of thought and meditation, and
as the years come and go, they seem to add only mellowing
touches to a career which has long since attained full ripeness.
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1897.] The Fribourg Congress. 261
THE FRIBOURG CONGRESS.
BY REV. EDWARD A. PACE, D.D., Ph.D.,
Catholic University of America.
^HE Fourth International Congress of Catholic
Scientists was held at Fribourg, Switzerland,
during the week August 15-21. Three years
had elapsed since the third congress, and the
interval had been devoted to earnest prepara-
tion by the Central Committee. Still, with memories of Paris
and Brussels in mind, one could not be blamed for taking
thought as to the prospects in a town which boasts a popula-
tion of fourteen thousand. These or similar rejections may
have hastened the arrival of many who sought knowledge in
comfort ; at all events, the little city was in a bustle of wel-
come when I reached it, August 13. Early and late the Bureau
was thronged with visitors in quest of information, but so well
had the arrangements been made that every new-comer was
speedily provided with lodgings, cards of admission, and official
programmes. One had then ample time to make acquaintance
with the environment. A pleasant task, for, in spite of all the
vicissitudes that mark its political history, Fribourg has retained
its traditional hospitality. It was Maitre Lescarbot, the chroni-
cles say, who wrote of the Fribourgeoises in 1620 :
"Et comme le parler du Suisse et du Fran^ais
Leur est familier, elles prennent le choix
Au son du violon, de suivre la cadence
Tantot de TAllemand, tantot de notre France."
Light-heartedness is still a characteristic of the people ; but
on this particular occasion the two familiar languages were
constantly crossed by strange accents from every country of
Europe, whereat the home-folk shook their heads dubiously,
while the visitors strolled on through the narrow up-and-down
streets out across the great suspension bridge to the neighbor-
ing heights, whence the view sweeps from Fribourg and its
setting of green hills, threaded by the greener Sarine, to the
snowy peaks of the Oberland.
Some of the changes wrought by time have bettered the
town. It is no longer as Cornelius Agrippa described it in
^534» "altogether lacking in scientific culture." As the site of
a flourishing university, it has become the centre of Catholic
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262 The Fribourg Congress. [Nov.
activity in Switzerland ; and when, on this account, it was chosen
for the Congress of 1897, Dr. Sturm, the rector of the univer-
sity, courageously undertook, the work of organization. His
success in educational lines inspired him with confidence. The
growth of the university has been rapid. Though six older in-
stitutions were already in the field, the Swiss Catholics gave
Fribourg their loyal support. The students who come up from
the colleges have received a thorough training; and as the
university can be reached in a few hours from any part of the
country, distance is no hindrance. Other lands also have con-
tributed their quota of students, so that now the attendance
has reached a respectable figure. The catalogue for the spring
term, or Sommer semester^ of this year places the total at 348,
of whom 301 are matriculated. Switzerland has 127 on the
register, and the remaining 174 are foreigners, who come chiefly
from Germany. Instruction is given by 63 teachers of various
academic grades — professors, docents, and assistants. The pro-
portion, which lovers of long division may determine, is not
iipmeasurably far from that which exists in our own Catholic
University, with 157 students and 29 instructors.
The term had closed at Fribourg before the Congress as-
sembled, and the lecture-halls were thrown open to a larger
class of older students. The university thus became the centre
of attraction, and its professors spared no pains in securing
the convenience of their guests. The daily schedule included
sessions for each division of the Congress, public sessions in
which matters of general interest were discussed, and social
events which brought the members together informally.
The report submitted at the first public session by the Sec-
retary, Monsignor Kirsch, showed a total membership of 2,6co,
of whom nearly 700 were present and followed the proceedings.
Making due allowance for corrections that may appear in
the Compte Rendu, we cannot say that there has been a de-
cided gain during the past three years. It was gratifying, how-
ever, to note a larger representation from English-speaking
countries than at any previous congress. America was repre-
sented by Professors Grannan, Hyvernat, Pace, De Saussure,
and Shahan, of the Catholic University ; Dr. Zahm, Procurator-
General of the Holy Cross Congregation, and Monsignor
0*Connell, formerly rector of the American College in Rome.
The deputation from the British Isles was more numerous, and
included professors from various institutions of learning.
In another respect, and that of prime importance, the pro-
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1897.] The Fribourg Congress. 263
gress was encouraging. At Fribourg 302 papers were pre-
sented as against 170 at Brussels. The obvious inference is
that active participation in the work is growing, and that many
who formerly were content to appear merely as subscribers or
listeners had been stimulated to scientific effort.
This result alone aitiply justifies the movement ; its full sig-
nificance appears when we consider the character of the gather-
ing, which was, in many senses, cosmopolitan. Prelates of the
church, leaders in state affairs, and men who stand high in the
scientific world represented the three great influences by which
human thought and human action are moulded. Their pres-
ence and co-operation was a new proof of the old truth that rule,
to be successful, must count upon intelligence and knowledge.
It was indeed hopeful and inspiring to see men from all
parts of the civilized world united in the one purpose of learn-
ing and declaring the truth. Before a clear perception of the
highest interests of religion, and of the relations which subsist
between Catholic doctrine and progressive science, prejudice
and national Idola Specus vanish as mists. On the map of such
a congress no frontiers are drawn save those that divide truth
from error. And the only passport required is intelligence
sealed by broad sympathy.
In this frame of mind, also, the genuine savant widens out
his scientific interest beyond the limits of his specialty. He is
brought for the time into contact with other lines of thought
and into warmer appreciation of other thinkers. At Fribourg
exceptional opportunities were offered to those who desired in-
formation concerning the latest developments in all departments
of knowledge. Ten " sections " barely sufficed for the wide
range of subjects assigned in the official list as follows : Reli-
gious Sciences, 28 ; Biblical, 30; Philosophical, 51; Economic
and Social, 41; Historical, 54; Philological, 24; Mathematical
and Physical, 30 ; Biological and Medical, 9 ; Anthropological,
16; Archaeological, 19. The distribution is by no means even,
and it is particularly to be regretted that so few papers dealt
with the biological problems which occupy a central position in
both the scientific and the philosophic discussions of our day.
It is, however, worthy of note that Philosophy and History
were in the lead, and it is doubtless more than a coincidence
that these two branches have been specially favored by the
fostering care of Leo XIII. Their influence, in fact, was felt
in nearly all the sections, and if any method of treatment pre-
dominated it was the historical. This does not, of course, im-
ply that the Congress shirked actual questions or set its ban
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264 The Fribourg Congress. [Nov.,
upon living issues. On the contrary, the most enthusiastic au-
diences were to be found wherever, in any section, these topics
came up for discussion. The general conviction seemed to be
that it \^ advisable to look facts in the face, and that it is
just as well to help on truth by helping on science.
The long list of papers was in one way a drawback. One
could not be present in all the sections, and it was difficult to
make a choice. The next Congress might facilitate matters by
preparing abstracts that would show the drift and gist of each
paper, or at least the point of view from which each subject
is handled. This plan, also, would put more life into the dis-
cussions than they can possibly have when they depend on the
spur of the moment. Besides the economy of time, one's nerves
would be spared the trouble of listening to well-meant remarks
that are occasionally extra formam and extra rem.
As a full account of the proceedings will be published in
due course, there is no need of anticipating by going into de-
tails. After all, what chiefly concerns us is the tone of the
Congress and not the individual notes — except, perhaps, the
key-note. This was frankly struck by the Coadjutor Bishop of
Cologne, when he claimed for Catholic scientists "freedom in
scientific research, freedom to lift questions of every sort out
of the ruts and sift thfem, yet along with this freedom proper
respect for the authority of the church, which is no hindrance,
but rather a safeguard, to liberty." Weighty as they are, these
words will surprise those only who* imagine that the church
blocks the way to investigation, or that she is best served by
the blockers. Let us- hope that the plain statement of Mon-
signor Schmitz will silence such misrepresentations by showing
to those who are outside of the church what her real attitude
is and what the duties of Catholics are in respect to the use
of their intelligence. That he was literally understood no one
could doubt who attended the Congress. Every subject on the
list was freely discussed and divergence of opinion was rather
expected. But as a rule each disputant or critic seemed to take
for granted that the thinker whom he opposed was quite as
anxious as himself to uphold the integrity of Catholic belief.
Some even ventured the remark that a man who looks at all
sides of a question and thinks for himself, as St. Thomas did,
is not so easily trapped by error in disguise.
There is a popular belief on this side of the Atlantic that
America leads the world, and it is, in large measure, correct.
Our free institutions give a scope to individual effort that else-
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i897-] The Fribourg Congress, 265
where is hedged about with restrictions. In all that depends
upon mechanical inventions, or quickens the transaction of busi-
ness, or ministers to comfort, we can certainly teach the Old
World some lessons. Likewise, in a higher sphere, tjie work
of our scholars commands and receives acknowledgment abroad.
But we would not be Americans, in the best sense of the term,
if we failed to give credit to the intellectual achievements of
Europe. Complain as we may about their slowness in some
things, we cannot deny their scientific advance.
The form of government does not affect this progress. It
is as vigorous in imperial Germany as in republican France, in
Catholic Belgium as in Protestant England. Its chief sources
are the universities, which cultivate science as much for the
sake of science as for the purpose of practical application ;
and the temper of the universities goes far towards shaping
public opinion. Hence even in countries whose political regime
is more stringent than ours, there is a tolerance for advanced
thought and personal views — a scientific freedom which obviates
such difficulties as have recently furnished food for comment
in the circle of American universities. It may be that we
have yet somewhat to learn.
At Fribourg the leading spirits were naturally university
professors. Many of them came from countries where the action
of the church is unfortunately hampered, and to such men the
freedom which the church enjoys in America was matter for envy.
Clearer notions as to our condition were furnished by Mon-
signor O'Connell's lucid exposition of " A New Idea in the
Life of Father Hecker." The Founder of the Congregation of
St. Paul belonged to the class of men whose works live after
them ; and his works have been made known to the world
through his biography and its French translation. In devel-
oping this " new idea," Monsignor O'Connell laid particular
stress on the contrast between the spirit of pagan Rome and
that of the American Constitution, as regards the source and
character of human rights and human authority. Under
Cxsar man as man had no rights, and such as the state granted
him in his character of citizen were by no means sacred.
According to our Constitution, all men are endowed by their
Creator with certain inalienable rights, and among these arc life,
liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. In pagan Rome the em-
peror was not only above all law ; it was his will that made law.
In America no man is superior to the law ; for above all indi-
viduals and all changes of officials, the majesty of law is supreme.
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266 The Fribourg Congress. [Nov.
Theoretically, the relations between church and state in
this country are not altogether perfect, but practically the
church is untrammelled in the exercise of her rights. Had
the founders of our government established a state church, it
would have been that of the majority. All things considered,
the church seems to thrive at least as well in the United
States as in any other country.
Such views influenced the life of Father Hecker and were
the secret of his success. He was filled with that loyal devo-
tion which Catholics in America bear to the principles on
which their government is founded, and the conviction that
these principles afford Catholics favorable opportunities for
promoting the glory of God, the growth of the Church, and
the salvation of souls in America.
Looking over the work of the Congress and its various
features, one may ask, What, then, is the main utility of such
gatherings? So far as communicating the outcome of research
is concerned, special congresses serve the purpose. And even
as regards the matters discussed at Fribourg, more definite in-
formation can be gotten from the printed papers. When all
this and more has been said, it seems to me that one great
benefit remains which can be procured by no other means.
Catholic thinkers are scattered throughout the world, each
doing his share in the cause of science and religion. In their
isolation they are not aware of their strength — they act with-
out co-operating. To unite these forces, to instil into each
mind the consciousness of that union and thereby to infuse
new vigor into their individual efforts — such, I take it, is the
chief result of these triennial assemblies. There can be no
doubt that the men who were at Fribourg went away with a
better appreciation of their opportunities and with a firmer
resolution to profit by them.
Predictions in such cases are unseemly ; but one may con-
fidently hope that the Congress at Munich in 1900 will be
even richer in results. It is certainly desirable that America
should have a larger representation. With the present trend of
thought in Europe, it is not hard to correct the false impres-
sions that are circulated in regard to our national institutions.
And with the further development of our educational system,
it will be easy to show our transatlantic friends that we have
heeded the words of Leo XIII.: Anteire decet Catholicos
homines^ non subsequi.
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King Paramount, of Ireland closed the troubles of life and
reign ; and turning to the chapter which describes it, we have
some interesting bits of history. The abbey, whose ruins we
have in the picture, is not the establishment of St. Fechin,
which may have been like the others of the sixth century —
a few stone churches surrounded by wooden cells for monks
and scholars, great wooden halls, refectories, and chapter-house
for general purposes — but it must have been, judging from the
remains, one of the most beautiful specimens of the tiansition
Gothic of the twelfth century to be found in Western Europe.
It was completed under the father of Roderick, in the year
1 128, and, as we have said, Roderick himself ended his days
there. Mr. Russell takes Moore's view of the qualities of the
unhappy monarch, but Thomas Moore was an impulsive, not a
philosophical historian, and we question his ability to gauge
the difficulties that environed him. From this book persons of
Irish descent may learn something of the land of their fathers,
and the degree of their civilization as stone and metal work
will reveal them. It has been observed with truth that no-
where else is there found such a perfect fitting of antiquities
to scenery, as though those ingrained artists were inspired at
their work of building by the character of the scenery. Imag-
ination expanded or revelled, became weird or awful in connec-
tion with the sky, the woods and mountains, the plains, lakes,
or stretches of moorland desert, so as to become under the
plastic genius of those Celts an interpreter of nature in her
moods. It was poetry expressing itself in the arch, the window,
the involutions of carving infinitely various. Mr. Russell has
performed his work well.
* London : Kegan Paul, Trench & Co.
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268 Talk about New Books. [Nov.,
Dr. E. W. Gilliam in Thomas Ruffin^ offers a view of
Southern society before the war for the truth of which his
Eminence Cardinal Gibbons vouches. The story is an interest-
ing one, well worked out, and the characters life-like. There
is a good deal of clever comedy in the scene between the
negroes of the plantation and their master; and if we accept
it as an accurate picture, Sambo must have been a pleasant
creature before liberty and Northern refinement made him fit
for a short time to say his prayers and the nearest tree*
But this is not all that may be said of the book ; the struggles
of Thomas Ruffin, after the ruin of his father through foolish
trust in a bank owned . by friends, are very skilfully presented
as a formative influence on his character. The Peales are good
specimens of Quakers, reminding one of the portraiture of
English Quakers in the last century of which we hear so much,
and more like the rest of the world than were these in their
anxiety to bend to everybody, while at the same time doing
what they could to escape intercourse, except that of their own
sect. They are honest people, those Peales, whereas Quakers
on the other side of the Atlantic used to be considered some-
what wily. There is an Irish street-ballad of the time which
puts their honesty in a questionable light :
"My father was a Quaker,
Although an honest man."
The reader ought to make the acquaintance of Dr. Gilliam's
Quakers, for all that.
Patrins^\ by Louise Imogen Guiney, Miss Guiney is the
most fascinating of Bohemians, because her wild world is in
the fancy. She lives in it with great zest, but with sound re-
gard for the other worlds, viz., the one called county society,
that old-fashioned, immensely respectable, and somewhat good-
natured institution, and that known as London plutocratic
society, which is rather " rapid," mixed, entertaining, and ill-
natured, but bowed down to collections of diamonds and crush
hats, Jews and chartered company men. She leads us away
out of the beaten tracks ; the leaves she drops to guide those
who come after are the Patrins — each one glittering with dia-
monds as if the dew were made for ever radiant by the sun
instead of taken up by his hot kiss. They are various as the
shades of green in woodland undergrowth and brake ; there are
browns too, and the red leaves of the early fall.
* Baltimore : The Friedenwald Company. t Boston : Copeland & Day.
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1 897-] Talk about New Books. 269
Diving into the volume, we have caught a thing of beauty
impossible to be described. She calls it " An Open Letter to
the Moon " ; and writing to the moon as a lover, she is all
sighs, all raptures, all vows, all jealousies — wayward herself as
the object of her idolatry, but charming in every mood. We
are more pleased with her jealousy of the " Man in the Moon "
than with anything since that wanderer Odysseus so sold Poly-
pheme. We do not care what any one says, the jealousy of
this sweetest lunatic is unsurpassable for airy grace and fun.
It must be hard to see in possession of the premises, as if he
had a right to lean on the window-sill and look down to earth,
that FalstaflSan, Toby Belchian person, and this trial is not
diminished by the thought that the lady is Diana. For Diana
has seen a good deal of badness in her time, so she may not
be quite so innocent as she looks. Smooth water runs pro-
verbially deep. We dismiss her and her translated lover — we
mean translated in the sense " Oh, Bottom, how thou art trans-
lated!" — to the reader. They are too much for us, we cannot
support the burden of so much pleasure at hearing the divine
rant of the translated one ; and how worthy of it is the
" Orbed maiden, with white fire laden,"
the
" Goddess excellently bright " ;
the charmer at whose looking in
" The oldest shade midst oldest trees
Feels palpitations."
There is a leaf of the autumn on which she has inscribed
the cabalistic formula, " On Teaching One's Grandmother how
to Suck Eggs." How old she is, in writing her experiences
on this red leaf ! She is, too, as sceptical as an agnostic ; for
who except herself or an agnostic would decide upon the question
as to the priority between the bird and the egg? One must take
Mr. Herbert Spencer as an authority, since we know he stood
at the cradle of heterogeneous homogeneity, and she claims to
know all about it, doubtless because some spirit has led her
along the stony road of the struggling ages, as well as to woods
and lakes and mountains where the beauty of the earth is
seated, and up to the interstellar spaces round which, like
snow-flakes in the infinite, fall the myriad stars.
She has a dialogue on that clever cynic Charles II., in which
she makes out Old Rowley not to be a bad sort by any means.
It is excellent for its humor, appreciation of facts, shrewdness
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270 Talk ABOUT New Books. [Nov.,
and courageous disregard for Whig stupidities. We have sel-
dom seen a dialogue as well brought out ; not a bit of labor
about it. And when we say this, she has accomplished what
fe^y have done to make the old-fashioned didactic vehicle, a
conversation, natural, easy, and well-informed, as if one sat
with Alcibiades when no ambition moved him, or with Byron
when the cruel demon of egotism was for a moment charmed,
and the freshness and fun and buoyancy, the strength and rich-
ness and grace of his noble but perverted disposition poured
themselves out without restraint.
A Woman of Moods,^ by Mrs. Charlton Anne (Ellam Fen-
wicke-Allan), is a set of scenes through which the principal
character moves. She says she does not write in the ortho-
dox style ; by which, we suppose, she means there is nothing
of a plot, according to the rule prevailing at present in that
class of composition. We can, at least, say that if her aim
was to draw pictures of life connected with the fortunes of a
particular character, Valeria Sabestri, she has succeeded in giv-
ing an interesting book. She has made one beautiful and
noble person in Clare, a young woman externally placid, al-
most colorless apparently, but with force of will under her
gentleness and equal to the demand of a great sacrifice at the
call of an enlightened conscience. Valeria, who may be re-
garded as the heroine, is considered by the writer " a rare type,
perhaps owing to her Elnglish-Italian parentage." She is in
reality a well-bred, clever woman, impiUsive enough perhaps,
but capable of taking advantage, for her own settlement in life,
of the self-sacrifice of Clare.
There is a good bit of satire in an opinion expressed by
Hope Dorrien to Valeria at the pleasant country house in
which Valeria — that is, Mrs. Villiers, for she is married to a
considerable squire, Ambrose Villiers — dispenses hospitality as
one of the powers in county society. Hope Dorrien is a
" young authoress " whose books are criticised unfavorably by
the goody-goody people ; and she takes up the theme in this
way: "It has been my study lately watching and finding out
about these less well-bred women, who outwardly have such
spotless characters, and who take it upon themselves to censure
their better-born sisters and my books! I have discovered that
in the majority of cases they are just as bad as their more
aristocratic sisters, only they do not break that commandment
which forbids them to be found out."
* London : Burns & Oates ; New York : Benzi^er Bros.
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I897-] Talk about New Books. 271
There are some passages of tragic interest, but we prefer
the brighter ones, such as when Madame Sabestri, Valeria's
mother, performs the operation she describes as " pulling a
lady's leg." The lady was an Anglican, rather ignorant, pre-
tentious, and under-bred notwithstanding the handle to her
name, for she is a Lady Maud, and Madame, who is a Catholic,
" roasts her " with the softest voice and most exquisite manners.
We like the Madame ; she is a bit odd, but always a thorough
lady. The book is very pleasant reading.
Barbara Blomberg,* by Georg Ebers, translated from the Ger-
man by Mary J, Safford. This is an historical romance of the
reign of Charles V. by Georg Ebers, a man whose historical
costume can always be relied upon, and it is translated by a judi-
cious use of the language of the time which evinces an acquain-
tance with Elizabethan literature beyond the common. We,
however, think the work marred by misrepresentation of the tone
of Catholic thought concerning, purity of life in a way that
must be inexcusable in one who understands so much of the
enthusiasm of the Catholic mind in obedience to the claims of
duty. He has taken his estimate of Catholic morality from
Goethe, forgetting that the creator of ** Faust" is more cynical
even than the author of " Don Juan." The gross scenes of the
latter work are not its main evil, shameless though they are,
but it is the disposition which Byron manifests to kill in him-
self, the moment he discovers it, every generous and virtuous
sentiment and impulse. In " Faust " the problem seems to be
the hopelessness of resistance to the powers, whatever they
are, that beset conscientious life apart from the exercise of
the intellectual faculties. Jt is a hideous philosophy, bearing
fruit in the political and social fires that are active in Germany
under the crust of a militarism whose end is rapidly approach-
ing. The order that reigns there is that of Rome before the
revolt of pretorians. When the socialists and anarchists invade
the camp, as they will do hand-in-hand, the empire of blood
and iron will pass like a vision of the night, or rather Europe
will be relieved from the nightmare that now oppresses it. Men
like Ebers are so tainted with the idea that religion is only
a sort of police, they are so convinced that morality has no
higher sanction than that of social utility, and that even reli-
gion itself is only an expression of social order, that they poison
minds more effectually than the grosser panders to depraved
* New York : D. Appleton & Company.
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2/2 Talk about New Books. [Nov.,
taste can do it. The very foulness of the latter may act as an
antidote in the case of fairly healthy minds. We hope we
shall see no more of such German estimates of Catholic purity
for the future, no more than we shall be subjected to the in-
fluence of German manners and German absolutism.
Memoirs of the Crimea,"^ by Sister Mary Aloysius, is a nar-
rative of the services rendered by the Sisters of Mercy to the
sick and wounded soldiers during the Crimean War. Two. of
the nuns sleep on the heights of Balaklava; the writer of the
little book before us is the sole survivor of the band that went
out from Ireland. She is now a very aged woman, but not-
withstanding the infirmities of age, she has yielded to the soli-
citations of friends and given her experiences in hospital nurs-
ing and ministrations to the wounded during a campaign in
which great battles were fought, and which was marked by ex-
ceptional sickness and loss of life, owing to the incompetency
and corruption of the British commissariat. Sister Aloysius,
in her gentle and graphic picture of the work done by the
sisters, makes no reference to the disgraceful system, or want
of system, which caused such havoc among the troops; but we
are bound to refer to it, bound also to refer to the convenient
policy which applied for the services of the nuns and the thank-
less bigotry that afterwards ignored them. However, we are
delighted to say that her Majesty the Queen has been pleased
to confer the Red Cross on Sister Mary Aloysius, and that too
without requiring her to travel all the way from the Convent of
Mercy, Gort, County Galway, to Windsor to receive it. Most
touching indeed is this recognition after forty years. Most
gracious is the consideration that sent the Red Cross when it
was quite impossible Sister Mary Aloysius could travel to re-
ceive it. A journey from Gort to Dublin even, much less to
London and Windsor, would tax the strength of a man in the
prime of life. All is well that ends well.
This volume is very interesting indeed; and not the least
interesting impression is that forced upon one by the uncon-
scious testimony to Protestant prejudice and ignorance it dis-
plays. It may be, however, that special knowledge enables us
not merely to read between but below the lines. But this we
can say, all that we know from the time and since. Dr. Man-
ning, afterwards the great cardinal, predicted to the sisters in
his beautiful letter. He prepared them for much of what they
would have to bear, but even his sagacity could not foresee
* New York : BeDziger Brothers.
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1897.] Talk about New Books. 273
the contrast in treatment given to Miss Florence Nightingale
and the incessant praise lavished upon her, and the contempt
shown or grudging acknowledgment yielded to the nuns at the
time, and the dead silence in regard to their services since, un-
til the other day.
First Lessons in Our Country's History* comes before us as
a revised edition. The compiler is Mr. William Swinton, the
" author of School {sic) History of the United States, Outlines of
the WorlcCs History, History of the Army of the Potomac'' The
book was suggested by "the extension of the study of United
States history into the lower grades of our schools.'* The
labor of compiling a history for the uee of the very young, if
conscientiously pursued, is no slight one. Matters of fact must
be stated in a way to catch the attention, judgments upon them
must be candid as well as sound. We cannot quite approve of
his treatment of the period before the Revolutionary War, but
we think, with the exception of a gratuitously offensive estimate
of the character of the unfortunate James II., he has shown, upon
the whole, a desire to be impartial, but has not quite succeeded.
The reference to religious liberty in Maryland before it was
dreamt of anywhere else is cold. Of course we could hardly
expect the views on the conflicts between the early settlers and
the Indians would be quite just. Unconsciously men think that
savage races have no rights against civilized spoilers ; they would
deny that they think so, but the notion is an unconscious pre-
mise governing their views. The illustrations throughout the
little work are helpful.
Marion J. Brunowe's daintily bound brochure, A Famous Con--
vent School, published by the Meany Co., New York, has escaped
our previous mention. It is impossible within the necessary
limitations of the history of such an institution to do more
than shadow forth the spirit which has endeared Mount St.
Vincent to so many noble women of our day. But we are glad
to Uilow that the merest summary of names and events which
cluster around this foundation will, by that subtle law of asso-
ciation which is even more powerful for good than for evil,
bring a breath of mental and moral fresh air into the crowded
lives of many who owe to the teaching there received the pur-
pose and the hope, the " faith in something and enthusiasm for
something," which has made them "worth looking at."
* New York : American Book Company,
VOL. LXVI.— 18
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274 Talk about New Books. [Nov.,
i.— the eucharistic christ.
The Eucharistic Christ^''' by Rev. A. Tesni^re, priest of the
Congregation of the Blessed Sacrament, has been admirably
translated by Mrs. Anne R. Bennett-Gladstone. It is impossi
ble to praise too highly this wprk, in which we have a history
of the foundation and progress of the congregation of priests
formed by Father Eymard for diffusing and maintaining an
intelligent devotion to this sublime mystery. As one would
expect, the advancement of the society in the thirty yeais
since it was founded is marvellous. There are two branches
in the institute, the Confraternity of Priest-Adorers and the
Aggregation of Lay-Adorers. The first have the duty of spend-
ing at least an hour weekly in adoration before the Blessed
Sacrament, that they may draw that fervor which should be
manifested in their works of zeal. The members of the Aggre-
gation of Lay-Adorers spend one hour monthly in adoration.
The book before us is the first of the many works pub-
lished in the interest of the confraternity that has been trans-
lated into English. As we have said, it has been well done.
The Introduction contains practical considerations upon the
adoration of the Most Holy Sacrament, divided under headings
that express various relations of the devotion with a depth
and beauty which reveal Father Tesni^re's spiritual insight
with remarkable clearness. In this part we have his interpreter
rendering him into clear and forcible English. The first relation
we meet with is that to our Lord Himself, the next is that of
the adoration in relation to ourselves, and the third in rela-
tion to our neighbor. These relations form the first part of
the Introduction, and we next have the second part, which
tells the method of adoration by means of the four ends of the
Sacrifice. Under the title "The Object and the End of the
Adoration," these practical considerations are grouped; so we
possess at once a logical relation of the divisions, both to the
Lord Himself and to mankind, beautifully illustrating the great
truth that the operations of God in the supernatural order are
parallel with his operations in the moral and physical orders.
The conception of self-effacement on which the Congrega-
tion is framed may have been the idea which caused Pius IX.
of happy memory to say in answer to the founder's petition,
'* I am convinced that this thought comes from God. The
church has need of it. Let every means be taken to spread
a knowledge of the Holy Eucharist.'* The priests who consti-
* New York : Benziger Brothers. ^
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tutc the Society of the Blessed Sacrament enter* it to immo-
late their personality to the service of -the Lord, to procure for
him the greatest possible glory by the homage of a love, says
Father Eymard, " which will reach as readily to the heroism
of sacrifice as to the simplest and most natural act of duty."
That is, the priest does not become a member of the society
"in order to become virtuous." But this language, though
strange, means that if he did so, he himself would be the first
object of his service. It is not to obtain a higher glory in
heaven that he joins it, but that the praise and merit shall go
to his Master. As Father Eymard finely says: **The soldier
gains the victory and dies ; the king alone triumphs and obtains
the glory." This is the spirit of the association, a protest
against the materialism of the age, against the ambition which
is found even in religious bodies— a spirit tender, strong, brave,
and loyal as the spirit of the Ages of Faith,
2. — THE COMMANDMENTS EXPLAINED.*
The issuing of two interesting and practical explanations of
the Commandments indicates a demand for more minute direc-
tions in regard to conduct. The enlightened conscience requires
minute specifications in regard to its duties. In daily life, no
matter in what sphere one moves, whether it be simply in the
limited round of home duties or out in the activities of the
business world, numerous questions arise almost every hour in
regard to the proper thing to do. These questions are not
merely questions of etiquette, but deep ethical questions of
right and wrong, often involving the observance of grave obli-
gations. A tender conscience, unless it be enlightened and be
quick in its decisions, will often be worried as to what to do. A
demand for more minute instruction on the practical rules of
life indicates a development of conscience that is one of the
most hopeful signs of the future.
We have had no complete manuals of moral theology in
English, and the explanation of ethical principles has. been left
very largely to the pulpit. It is quite true that the clergy are
becoming more and more alive to the fact that the spiritual
food the people crave is not given to them in the grand ser-
• The Commandments Explained^ according to the. Teaching and Doctrine of the Catholic
Church. By Rev. Arthur Devine, Passionist, author of The Creed Explained^ Convent Life^
etc. — Illustrated Explanation of the Commandments. A thoroujjh Exposition of the Com-
mandments ^f God and of the Churcli. Adapted from the original of H. Rolfus, D.D. With
numerous examples from Scripture, the Holy Fathers, etc., and a Practice and Reflection on
each Commandment, by Very Rev. F. Girardey, C.SS.R. With full-page illustrations. New
York : Benxiger Brothers.
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^76 Talk about New Books. [Nov.,
mon after the French method, but rather in homely: catechedfial
instructions where the explanation of cofrtiuct can be entered
into discreetly and thoroughly. Father Devihe's book is the
more complete of these two volumes, and therefore the more
valuable. Certainly it is such for priests, and we scarcely see
how a priest who does a great deal of catechetical instruction
on moral duties can be without some such exhaustive manual
in the vernacular, and at the same time one so eminently up
to date and practical that it quotes as authorities the latest in-
structions to bishops and discusses such modern questions as
hypnotism and the many difficult problems of justice created
by our modern life.
While Father Devine's book is written for the laity as well
as the clergy, Father Girardey's seems to have the people prin-
cipally in view, and as a popular manual is of special value.
3.— THE SUNDAY OBLIGATION.*
In the face of the open irreligion that characterizes the
lives of many in this country the observance of the Sunday
has become more than merely the keeping of the law of the
church ; it amounts very often to a practical profession of one's
faith. Where the Sunday is observed with strictness, opportu-
nity is given for the fostering of the religious sentiment. This
strictness, however, must be a rational strictness, coming from
a true understanding of the nature of Sunday, the character of
the day, and whence the obligation arises. No other question
of practical ethics, the temperance question perchance excepted,
has beea placed before the American public with more diverse
interpretations than the observance of Sunday. And because
the setting aside of one day in seven for the worship of God
is so eminently practical, a correct understanding of the obli-
gation of the observance of Sunday is exceedingly important.
Father Roche's little book is a handy manual, vouched for
in its theological accuracy by Father Dissez, of St. Mary's
Seminary, Baltimore.
4.— THE STORY Of MARY AIKENHEAD.f
A unique book in the way of a religious biography is the
Story of Mary Aikenhead.
Time was when one of the commonest objections to the
* The Obligtktian 0/ Hearing Mass on Sundays and Holydays. By Rev. J. T. Roche, au-
thor of Month of St. Joseph for People in the World. Baltimore, Md. : John Murphy & Co.
t The Story of Mary Aikenhead^ Foundress of the Irish Sisters of Charity, By Maria
Nethercott. New York : Bensiger Brothers.
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1897.] Talk about New Books. 277
reading of the lives of saints and holy people was, that they
were too dry aod . that there was too much of a sameness
about- them. Catholk biographers of saints' lives in these days,
however, can no longer have such a criticism made upon their
work. There is a naturalness and genuineness about their
books now that make the reading of them far more pleasing
than that of the unrealities of fiction and romance.
This little book of Maria Nethercott's is a bright specimen
of its kind. Her story of a vfery holy and useful life is told
with charming freshness of style and fascination of description.
Mary Aikenhead's life was spent in Ireland, during the
period when the fierce oppression of the penal days had
dwindled down to the petty persecutions and annoying, trivial
harassments of Protestant prejudice and hatred of things
Catholic. She was brought up in the midst of this in her
native town of Cork, but was able to rise above it and .escape
unharmed from its influence only by the sterling qualities of
her nature assisted by grace. According to the custom of her
time, she was placed as an infant in charge of a peasant
woman, and allowed to grow up with her until her sixth year.
It was due to this early training that she was a Catholic, for
her father, a doctor of some repute in that part of the coun-
try, belonged to the Established Church. Mary's nurse had
her surreptitiously baptized a Catholic in her infancy, and in-
stilled the early lessons of her religion into her young mind
so deeply that in her eighteenth year, in spite of the powerful
influences of her Protestant relatives, Mary's inward conviction
of the truth of these early teachings asserted itself and she
sought of her own accord admission into the church and
was confirmed a Catholic. Her life from this time on is a
sweet story of womanly virtue and heroism. She felt attracted
to the religious life, but could not find sufficient active charity
in the orders then existing in Ireland to satisfy her desires.
The idea of establishing the daughters of St. Vincent de Paul,
to supply such a need of helping the poor and the sick as
she recognized, grew up in her own mind and in that of the
good Bishop of Cork, Dr. Moylan, almost simultaneously, and
it needed but a favorable opportunity to bring it to fruition.
It was not Mary's choice, however, that made her the organizer
of such a plan, but it was due to the express wish of the
bishop that a foundation was actually begun and successfully
carried on within a short time.
Her life as a foundress and a superior is a delightful story,
so much of her native charm and versatility shows through it
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278 Talk about New Books. [Nov.
under all the deep religiousness — a religiousness that never
verged into mere cant or sentimentality. " Those who did
careless or stupid things, with the idea that they were cultivat-
ing piety, were her special aversion," says her biographer.
" ' We want young women who have sense and know how to
use it,' she used to say. ' I don't like people who always
look down,' she said on one occasion to a lay sister who had
charge of the halls and parlors. ' Look up, child,' pointing to
the ceiling, from which a large cobweb hung. * And now, my
child/ added the reverend mother, 'if you looked up more to
the heavens, you would do your work in a more perfect way
for God.' " The quick, witty sally of the Irish tongue was never
wanting in her as a medium of giving an advice or administer-
ing a reproof which might under other language have contained
a sting. "You would carry a doctor about in one pocket and
a priest in another," she said once to a fussy, nervous sister
whom she wished to reprove for over-anxiety and worry about
her patients.
An interesting fact about the life of these first Sisters of
Charity in Ireland is that among their number was the sister
of Gerald Griffin, who was, it is said, the occasion of his
world-famed poem on " The Sister of Charity."
5. — A NEW BOOK OF SERMONS.*
Father McGowan, while stationed at St. Augustine's Church,
Philadelphia, attained quite a reputation as a preacher. For
this reason we are led naturally to expect in these two
volumes a very choice selection of sermon matter. The trans-
lated sermons are from Billot, Perrin, and St. Thomas of
Villanova, and many of the clergy will esteem it no small advan-
tage to have the best discourses of such masters of pulpit
eloquence put in near-at-hand volumes so they may be adapted
to present-day needs.
The best sermon books are not the ones which contaiti
sermons that are completely and rhetorically written out fronn
text to peroration, but rather the ones which are suggestive of
ideas and provocative of thought. The luminous sermons of
the masters or the deep discourses of the saints are the ones
which will be most thoroughly studied as models, and most
generally used as aids to practical preaching.
* Sermons for the Holydays and Feasts 0/ Our Lord^ the Blessed Virgin^ and the Saints^
With Discourses for Particular Devotions, and a Short Retreat for a Young Men's Sodality.
Edited, and in part written, by Rev. Francis X. McGowan, O.S.A. 2 vols. New York and
Cincinnati : Fr. Pustet.
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is a new mark of the Holy Father's interest in the work of
the University, and a distinct approbation of the character of
Dr. Conaty's priestly work. Had Dr. Conaty been merely a
time-server or a dinner-giver or a sail-trimmer, he would have
been unworthy of his distinguished position ; but he was a man
of principle, doing the right as he conceived it, and courageous
in following out a positive policy which he had defined for
himself. Because of this he grew in moral and intellectual sta-
ture, and when a man was needed to fill an important place
he was the unanimous choice. His future successes as Rector
of the University wil further demonstrate the wisdom of his
election.
All who have had any experience in teaching catechism
strongly urge the revision of the present hastily prepared and
too quickly approved manual for use in Sunday-schools. A
model catechism should be simple, adapted to the minds of
children, logical, so that it may expand into larger manuals
and still retain its unbroken symmetry. It should, moreover, be
profuse in its use of and reference to Scripture texts.
It has been said that the astutest enemy of the church is
not the one who vilifies her, but the one who ignores her.
This was strikingly manifested at the St. Augustine celebration
at Ebbs-Fleet, in England. The reporter, with pencil and note-
book in hand, was notably in evidence at the celebration, but
there was scarcely anything published. It would be too strong
an argument in favor of the Roman origin of the Anglican
Church to put such an event too plainly before the people.
The shrewder policy was to ignore, hence the waste-basket and
not the public got the accounts.
♦
The Rosary is the greatest missionary weapon. The Holy
Father, with a persistency born of an unbounded conviction in
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28o Editorial Notes. Nov.,
its efficacy, again urges us to make use of it. To prayer, as
well as to missionary zeal, is due the wonderful success attained
by the non-Catholic mission movement in this country. Bishop
Maes, in a late pastoral, places the number of conversions from
Protestantism to the church in this country at 700,000, and
Cardinal Gibbons estimates the yearly influx at 30,000. The
Rosary is doing its work among modern irreligionists as effectu-
ally as it did among the ancient Albigensians.
Among other things, the Fribourg Scientific Congress
affirmed the need of a reverent freedom in scientific research.
The following statement from the Coadjutor Bishop of Cologne
was the key-note of the gathering. He claimed for the mem-
bers " freedom in scientific research, freedom to lift questions
of every sort out of the ruts and sift them, yet along with this
freedom proper respect for the authority of the church, which
is no hindrance, but rather a safeguard, to liberty." This
claim was literally interpreted, showing that Catholic scientific
men understand thoroughly their liberty in scientific matters.
In this is found the best answer to the statements of the
enemy.
There seems to be a general stirring among church- workers
in regard to organizations for boys. Father Heffernan sounded
the note of awakening by his article on " Our Boys " in the
August number of this magazine. The article attracted a great
deal of attention.
The Messenger of the Sacred Heart is now adding a new de-
partment, which will be edited exclusively in the interest of
boys, and the National Temperance organization, as the result
of the deliberations of the Convention at Scranton last sum-
mer, is organizing Juvenile Total Abstinence societies through-
out various dioceses. There is no movement which has in it
90 much hope for the future as this one.
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I897-] Living Catholic Authors. 2S1
AUTHENTIC SKETCHES OF LIVING CATHOLIC
AUTHORS.
John Jerome Rooney is one of the more brilliant of our
young American writers, gifted to an unusual degree with both
the poetic fire and a high literary taste. He was born thirty-
two years ago in .Binghamton, N. Y., but his early home life
was associated with the Quaker City on the Delaware. His
father dying while he was quite young, his education was di
rected by. his uncle, Bishop Shanahan, of Harrisburg. At the
age of twelve he was sent to Mount St. Mary's College and
there grew up amid healthful surroundings and in a scholarly
atmosphere. Though naturally very bright, he did not disdain to
perfect his talents by assiduity to study. He won many class
honors, including the Dr. McSweeny Special Gold Prize for
Metaphysics.
Still his particular aptitude was for poetry and literary pur-
suits, and he did not a little in this line while at college, and after
he was graduated he accepted a position on the staff of the
Philadelphia Record and for five years did newspaper work of
all kinds. He is now at the head of a large customs broker-
age in New York.
Though the exactions of business life in New York are
severe, yet Mr. Rooney has found time to cultivate the muse, and
has contributed to our leading periodicals many stirring poems
as occasion has called them forth, and not only is it the patriotic
sentiment that inspires his genius, but the sweet, the quiet,
the beautiful in nature and art have stirred his heart and given
being to some of his best poems.
Mr. Rooney is content to wait till the passing years bring
their ripest fruit before he publishes in collected form his many
fugitive verses. Still, what he has already done has brought
to him an enviable name and a literary reputation that any
young man might well be proud of.
Miss J. Gertrude Menard is a resident of Woburn, Mass.,
in which town she was born and received her education. Her
early literary attempts were, like so many youthful writers, in
the poetic strain, her first production appearing when she was
a school-girl in the Boston Weekly Traveller^ then a paper of
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282 Authentic Sketches of [Nov.,
high literary standing, its hterary department being under the
supervision of Miss Lillian Whiting. Since then she has writ-
ten prose stories and sketches for numerous magazines and
papers, and was connected for a time with a daily local publi-
cation.
Miss Menard is of Irish and Canadian parentage, her father
being a native of the picturesque town of Chambly Basin,
P. Q. Frequent visits to Canada interested her in the country,
and perhaps her best work has been her stories and descrip-
tions of this northern land.
In conjunction with her sister, who has become known as
a musical composer, she
published some time ago
a little book of songs for
kindergarten schools, and
has also written the
words of several songs
which have been set to
music by the same lady,
and which are produced
by the Boston house of
Oliver Ditson & Co.
Miss Menard is one
of the contributors to
the volume called Im-
mortelles of Catholic Col-
timbian Literature recent-
ly published by Mother
„ , ^ „ M. Seraphine, of the or-
Miss J. Gertrude Menard. , r tt ,. ^r r
der of Ursuline Nuns of
New York City, in which appear a poem entitled '* The Bells
of St. Anne '' and a sketch descriptive of a Canadian market-
day. She is still engaged in literary pursuits, is a member of
the New England Woman's Press Association, and looks for-
ward to the future for the realization of higher aims in her
chosen field of work.
Margaret M. Halvey is of Irish birth, though her best
work has been done in this country. She now claims Philadel-
phia as her home and the sphere of her labors.
Her mother took care of her early education, and, unlike
so many others who are permitted to drop into the great
modern educational machine to be turned out a manufactured
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1 897-] Living Catholic Authors. 283
and labelled mediocrity, she was trained in particular lines and
her literary talents developed. At a singularly early age she
developed a taste for rhyming, an^ these early effusions found
their way into print ; but later on in life she utilized these
talents to some purpose by penning some stirring national
poems which breathe all the traditional Irish hatred of English
tyranny.
Her work apart from its literary side has been largely so-
cialistic in the best sense — the
development of the home idea^
among the laboring classes, the
amelioration of the condition of
the masses. In furtherance of
these purposes she accepted a
place on the Board of Lady
Managers of the World's Colum-
bian Exhibition for the State of
Pennsylvania, and was enabled
to place before the public many
excellent models which did not
a little to uplift standards. The
Philadelphia Working-man^ s Home
at the World's Fair was her sug-
gestion, and as an object lesson of Margaret M. Halvey.
thrift, economy, industry, seclu-
sion, and privacy of home life, as opposed to the paying rents,
owning nothing, and casting aside of home virtue system of
the modern great city, it had a wonderfully powerful effect on
the visiting throngs.
Mrs. Halvey does not permit her able pen to be inactive.
Amid the cares of a busy life she is constantly publishing, and
much of her work ranks very high from a literary point of
view.
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284 The Columbian Reading Union. [Nov.,
THE COLUMBIAN READING UNION.
THE Champlain Assembly has g^ven inspiration to many progressive ideas, but
none seems to offer greater scope of activity than the latest plan of forming
an Alumnae Auxiliary Association.
Friends of the Summer-School, realizing the interest taken in it by the Catho-
lic Women of America, felt that the proverb " In unity there is strength " could
find a most powerful application among them. During the last week of the recent
session the announcement was madefthat there would be a meeting of all those
interested in the inauguration of such an association. The number that respond-
ed to the invitation was most encouraging.
Rev. M. J. Lavelle, President of the Summer-School, presided and stated the
object of the organization. Rev. Thomas McMillan, Chairman of the Board of
Studies, and Rev. Morgan M. Sheedy, of Altoona, Pa., assured those present of
their co-operation in such a movement. Miss K. G. Broderick, of New York
City, Miss Cronyn, of Buffalo, and many others also gave assurance of their hearty
support. Mr. W. E. Mosher, of Youngstown, O., showed the practical way by
which the association could be an auxiliary to the work. He suggested that the
funds raised be devoted to the endowment of lecture courses to be given annual-
ly at Cliff Haven, the home of the Summer-School. This suggestion met the
approval of all. Rev. J. P. Kiernan, of Rochester, voiced the sentiment of those
present by his enthusiastic address in favor of Mr. Mosher's plan.
A committee was at once appointed to draw up a short constitution. The
following were appointed on this committee :
Miss Helena T. Goessmann, Amherst, Mass.; Miss Elizabeth Cronyn, Buf-
falo ; Miss Olivia J. Hall, New York City ; Miss Agnes Wallace, New York City ;
Miss Fannie Lynch, New Haven, Conn.; Miss Gertrude Mclntyre, Philadelphia.
At the next meeting the committee submitted the following report for adoption
Resolved: i. That the Alumnae Auxiliary Association of the Catholic Sum-
mer-School of America be composed of the graduates of convent schools, col-
leges, academies, high and normal schools; also all professional teachers, and
such persons as the Executive Board shall approve.
2. That the initiation fee be one dollar. This fee to form the basis of a fund
for the endowment of chairs at the Champlain Summer- School.
3. That the yearly dues be fifty cents.
4. That there be six officers: a president, three vice-presidents, a general
secretary, and a treasurer. Also, that there be for the current year seven direc-
tors. All to form a body to be known as the Executive Board of the Alumnae
Auxiliary Association.
5. That the Board of Officers and Directors meet twice a year : the last week
of December, and at Cliff Haven during the first week of August.
Letters inviting the co-operation of those interested in Catholic education
are shortly to be issued, and delegates have been appointed in various cities
whose duty it will be to further the object of the association. Application for
membership or for further information should be addressed to the secretary. Miss
Mary Burke, Ozanam Reading Circle, 415 West 59th Street, New York City,
or to the treasurer. Miss Gertrude Mclntyre, 181 1 Thompson Street, Philadel-
phia, Pa.
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1 897-] The Columbian Reading Union. 285
The officers elected were as follows: Moderator, Rev. James P. Kieman,
Rochester, N. Y. ; President, Miss Helena T. Goessmann, Amherst, Mass. ;
ist Vice-President, Miss Elizabeth Cronyn, Buffalo, N. Y. ; 2d Vice-President,
Miss Ella McMahon, Boston, Mass.; 3d Vice-President, Miss Mary Rourke, New
York City; Secretary, Miss Mary Burke, New York City; Treasurer, Miss
Gertrude Mclntyre, Philadelphia, Pa. Directors — Miss Agnes Wallace, New
York City; Mrs. C. H. Bonesteel, Plattsburgh, N. Y.; Miss Cecilia Yawman,
Rochester, N. Y. ; Miss Anna Murray, New York City ; Miss Mary C. Clare,
Philadelphia, Pa.; Miss Anna Mitchell, Brooklyn, N. Y.; Miss Fannie Lynch,
New Haven, Conn.
« « «
The adjourned annual meeting of the y-ustees of the Champlain Summer-
School was held on Thursday, September 23, in the board-room of the Catholic
Club.
The reports of the session were all presented and discussed. It was found
that the results of this year had been satisfactory in every way, except that the
finances are not yet in perfect condition. It is necessary to devise some plan
which will provide revenue sufficient to pay all the current expenses of each year.
When this has been accomplished, the work of constructing, so to speak, the
Summer-School will be at an end. The general interest is now well aroused,
the attendance is secure, and the comfort of the people is also well provided for.
The president's report was received with marked attention, and its provisions
and recommendations were unanimously agreed to. Monsignor Conaty and
Major Byrne were appointed a committee to devise, in conjunction with the chair,
the financial scheme which will complete the work of organization.
The officers for the ensuing year are : The Rev. M. J. Lavelle, President ; the
Rev. T. F. Loughlin, Vice-President ; Major John Byrne, Second Vice-President ;
Warren E. Mosher, Secretary ; the Rev. John F. MuUany, Treasurer.
The president strongly urged the plan of getting members in large numbers
who would agree to pay ten dollars annually in advance for a ticket that would
entitle the holder to attend the entire course of lectures at the session of 1898.
By payment of this money at once the friends of the Summer-School could re-
move the anxiety regarding the financial problem. '
« * *
Even during hcF vacation-time Mrs. Margaret F. Sullivan felt obliged to
assist in spreading correct information. Her rank in journalism is second to none
in the broad and accurate range of her knowledge. In the following letter, sent to
the New York Sun, she mentions some topics that might be profitably discussed
at length by members of Reading Circles :
A Washington telegram announced recently that ground would soon be
broken near the Roman Catholic University, Washington, for the first Catholic
college for women. It is to be maiv^g^d Ji>y theJSAs^ers of Notre Dame, under the
auspiceaoithe.univeriity. The first bUildingfwill accommodate one hundred board-
ers. Students must be at least eighteeh years of age and have completed an
academic course. They will be required to present satisfactory evidence of good
duu-acter and good health. The new institution is to be known as Trinity Col-
lege, and it will be opened, it is said, next year.
'* This departure," runs the dispatch, " from the usual conservative methods
of Roman Catholic education is expected to cause unfavorable comment in some
quarters." In what quarters ? Why speak of the new Trinity College as " a de-
parture from conservative methods of Roman Catholic education ? " Is that *' a
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286 The Columbian Reading Union. [Nov.,
departure " which is a return to the rule under the church in Italy from the thir-
teenth century until the universities ceased to be in its exclusive control ?
It is a common error to suppose that the comparatively recent opening of
some universities to women is a nineteenth century innovation. Mrs. Browning
writes in " Aurora Leigh " :
" In the first onrush of life's chariot wheels
We know not if the forests move or we."
Some years ago I had the honor to write for The Catholic World magazine
a sketch of the higher opportunities afforded wom^n in earlier times in older coun-
tries than ours. Subsequently there appeared elsewhere a circumstantial account
of learned women of Bologna, by an Italian writer, who recited with consider-
able fulness the story of woftien's connection with the departments of law, science,
medicine, and philosophy in that ancient and famous university, prior and subse-
quent to the Reformation. It would give me great pleasure to quote particularly
the picturesque description of the dazzling scene of the public crowning of Laura
Bassi, when the degree of doctor of laws was conferred upon her by the ecclesi-
astical and civic authorities after she had completed the customary examinations
and withstood the severest tests. The citizens combined with the university gov-
ernment to render the occasion one of beauty and splendor heightened by south-
ern enthusiasm. The after- career of Laura Bassi, Doctor of Laws, is not of a
kind to make the conservative timid about the domestic effects of the higher edu-
cation of women. Nor was Bologna the only university city of the middle ages
to confer degrees upon women. Shakspere's Portia need not be deemed merely
the figment of a poet's imagination. It would be easy to cite testimony ; but I
am writing away from home, at a sea-shore summer village, without. access to
books or other materials, relying on unaided memory for a few suggestive refer-
ences.
A correct clue to learned women of Bologna may be found in Poole's Index
to Periodical Literature, MViA^x " Women in the Middle Ages." Copious informa-
tion against the idea that the new Trinity College is " a departure " is presented
in Christian Schools and Scholars y by Mother Drane, of Stone, Staffordshire, Eng-
land. The French historian and critic, Demogeot, in his estimate of Italian
literature, is another witness to the breadth of women's education under the con-
servative methods of the church in mediaeval Italy.
The life, education, aims, and precepts of venerable Sophie Madeleine Barat,
of France, foundress of the Community of the Sacred Heart, refute the error that
the New Trinity College is " a departure " from conservative Catholic ideas.
Those ideas were superbly set forth by Sir Thomas More, when he employed
the eminent Dutch classical scholar, Erasmus, to teach in his household, the mem-
bers thereof a«d some companions of both sexes receiving identical instruction.
How great the contrast between the unnatural conduct of the untaught daughters
of John Milton, the flower of Puritanism, and the noble womanliness of the thor-
oughly taught daughter of the martyred chancellor !
A number of the collegiate foundations at Oxford and Cambridge were made
by Englishwomen of wealth, who were at least passively accessory to the exclu-
si:)n of women from the universities of England when those of Italy were freely
opened to all qualified candidates. Victoria, regina, imperatrix, for sixty years
has reigned, but Parliament has governed. As abolition of sect-tests for admis-
sion to the universities is one of the parliamentary glories of her era, thanks chiefly
to Mr. Gladstone ; a word from her lips at this supreme hour would insert aboli-
tion of sex-tests in the statutes of the realm as a pionumental jewel of the dia-
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1 897-] The Columbian Reading Union. 287
mond jubilee, assuring her in history a sovereign distinction above any belonging
to her queenly predecessors.
Judging by the cogent and lucid contribution by his Eminence Cardinal
Gibbons, in the Century Magazine several years ago, on the subject of women
physicians, we ought to expect the early opening of a medical department in the
new Trinity, which, in all its departments, will be cordially and effectually sup-
ported by the American hierarchy and clergy, a collective body whose renown for
aspiration and achievement is coextensive with civilization in the Old as in the
New World.
That body has devoted itself hitherto, with the co-operation of thousands of
trained men and women, a heroic army of voluntary teachers, mainly to the in-
dispensable — for the many — primary and secondary instruction, waiting in forti-
tude and hope for the means and the time to arrive for higher education, which,
in all countries, in every age, has necessarily been the privilege of the compara-
tively few. Fortunately for all, Gwendolen Caldwell, foundress of the Catholic
University of America, has not perpetuated an English precedent on American
soil. The new Trinity will inspire and reward the magnificent work being done
all over the country by numerous admirable conventual academies.
In affiliating a woman's college the Catholic University of America, founded
by a woman, commits no " departure." It restores the too-long suspended rights
of Catholic women, according to the ancient ideals and the most conservative and
authentic standard. The new Trinity only emphasizes a trend approved by ex-
perience and sanctioned by the most advanced thought in higher education in all
advancing countries — that academic and collegiate training for youth should be
co-ordinate, but, for greater convenience and prudence, in separate institutions,
when so preferred by parents ; and that university privileges, honors and emolu-
ment, direct and indirect, should be open, in secular culture, to men and women
on equal conditions.
Women will continue to go to Vassar, to Barnard, to Radcliffe, to the various
State colleges open to them, as they will commence next year to go to the new
Trinity ; but the university to be approved by the head and heart of the future
will be of the type of one of the oldest, Bologna, and of the youngest — young but
already valiant — Chicago, whose President, Dr. William R. Harper, has said to
me that he will never consent to a rule discriminating prejudicially between, men
and women in its administration.
May the new Trinity flourish from its birth, and add another to the glories of
our country ! * ♦ ♦
♦
CORRIGENDUM.
When it is stated (see page 155, line 24) that we decline to accept Baluze
as an untainted witness, it is meant that we decline to accept him on the recom-
mendation of Dr. Benson. The inference might be that we regard him as a dis-
honest witness in the same sense as Sarpi. That we do not ; nor is such a view
necessary to our argument. The learning of Baluze cannot be questioned, but
he has not always used his learning with discretion. The Hisiory of the House
of Auvergne maintains a principle which an educated Englishman could hardly
accept, having regard to important legislation at an early period of English his-
tor)\ In this work Baluze argues that a king de facto, and most probably de
jure, as Louis XIV. was, has no title to the allegiance of a subject who may be
a pretender de jure to the throne.^
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288 New Books. [Nov., 1897.
NEW BOOKS.
Benziger Brothers, New York:
The Little Path to Heaven. A prayer-book with very large print. Our
Favoriti Novenas, A companion volume to Our Fav&rite Devotions, By
Very Rev. Dean A. A. Lings. The Little Child of Mary, A complete
little prayer-book. Letters on True Politeness. A little Treatise ad-
dressed to Religious. By the Abb6 Dcmore. From the French by a Visi-
tandine of Baltimore. Mission Book for the Married, By Very Rev.
Ferreol Girardey, C.SS.R. Mission Book for the Sinerle, By Very Rev.
Ferrcol Girardey, C.SS.R. Thai Football Game, and What Canu of It.
By F. J. Finn, SJ. Illustrated Prayer-Book for Children, With many
fine half-tone illustrations. The Gospel of St, John, With notes, critical
and explanatory. By Rev. Joseph MacRory, D.D., Professor of Sacred
Scripture and Hebrew, Maynooth College. The Commandments Ex-
plained. By Rev. Arthur Devine, C.P. In the Days of Good Queen Bess.
By Robert Haynes Cave. The Story of Mary Aikenhead, By Maria
Nethercott.
• Houghton, Mifflin & Co.:
Varia, By Agnes Repplier.
Catholic Book Exchange, 120 West 60th Street, New York:
Saint Wilfrid, Archbishop of York. By A. Strceter. With Introductory
Essay by Rev. Luke Rivington, D.D. (Catholic Truth Society.)
D. H. McBride & Co., Chicago, Akron, and New York:
Tales of Good Fortune, Adapted from Canon Schmid by Rev. Thomas J.
Jenkins.
The Burrows Brothers Company, Cleveland:
The Jesuit Relations and Allied Documents. The original French, Latin,
ana Italian Texts, with English translations and notes ; illustrated by por-
traits, maps, and fac-similes. Edited by Reuben Gold Thwaites. Vol.
VIII., 1634-1636.
Macmillan Company, London and New York:
A Political Primer of New York State and City, By Adele M. Field. Cou-
sin Betty. By H. de Balzac. Translated by Clara Bell, with preface by
George Saintsbury.
Charles Scribner's Sons, New York :
.SV. Ives. By Robert Louis Stevenson.
American Book Company, New York, Cincinnati, and Chicago :
Gems of School Son^. By Carl Betz. 'Round the Year in Myth and Scn^,
By Florence Holbrook.
Open Court Publishing Co., Chicago :
Darwin and after Darwin, By the late George Romanes, M.A., LL.D.,
F.R.S.
Silver, Burdett & Co., New York, Boston, and Chicago:
The Plant Baby and Its Friends. By Kate Louise Brown.
Longmans, Green & Co.,lJjtw York :
Thi Water of the Wondrous Isles. By William Morris.
George Gottsberger Peck, New York :
Cyparissus : A Romance of the Isles of Greece. By Ernst Eckstein. Trans-
lated from the German by Mary J. Safford.
Government Printing-office, Washington:
Tenth Annual Report Commissioner of Labor. Vols 1. and II. Eleventh
Annual Report Commissioner of Labor. Eighth Special R^ort Commis-
sioner of Labor, Fifteenth Annual Report Bureau of Ethnology. Six-
teenth Annual Report of the Bureau of American Ethnology to the Secre-
tary of the Smithsonian Institution, zSg^g^. By I. W. Powell, Director.
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Rev P. V. HARTIGAN, O.P., Church of St.
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Church Cathedral, Lexin^n, Ky.
Rev. J.J. MCCARTHY. Highland Falls, N. Y.
CoL. W\ H. DICKEY Saugerties. N. Y.
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\\ y Rev. WM. P. CANTWELL.
^* ^V\i Unpublished Letters of Napoleon,
'^'^ ,1 Rev. GEORGE McDBRMOT, C.S P.
j^\ National Catholic Teachers' Institutes. Illus,
\ The Virgin's Robe. (Poem.)
( CLAUDE M. GIRARDEAU.
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THE
CATHOLIC WORLD.
Vol. LXVI. DECEMBER, 1897. No. 393.
CHRISTMAS AT sfcW^/NS^Ali^.^ )
BY MARION AMES TA^J^AiOl^^-
IMES were hard in the parish
of St. Dynstan's. Perhaps the
statement is superfluous, for
^ere never easy there, and the
mtion of the parish was enough
forth a groan of sympathy for
or from his brothers in the dio-
lence it was not a place much
for by candidates for vacant par-
nd when the bishop sent young
Francis there, just after his ordi-
iie had plenty to pity but none to
m.
)unstan's lay at the poorest end
nail town made up of manufac-
ind their workmen's houses, ex-
^^ ...e few better places at the west
end of the town where the superintendents* and owners*
families lived. There was never quite enough to eat in these
little houses huddled together, for there was an average of at
least five children in each of them, and money was scarce,
'and saloons plenty where the poor, tired, dull men found
the only pleasure they knew in forgetting the hard day by the
help of fiery adulterations of bad whisky. They were a mus-
Copyright. The Missionary Society of St. Paul the Apostle in the
State of New York. 1897.
VOL. LXVI. - 19
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290 Christmas at St. Dunstan's. [Dec,
cular, brawny, hopeless lot, begrimed by the iron and the
smoke of the furnaces, made up of various nationalities,
with a preponderance of the Irish, whose native fun was
nearly eliminated by the conditions of their lives. And it
was into such a parish that Father Francis came, a slender,
pale youth of twenty-three, with deep-set, fervent eyes, and
such an experience of men and life as a guarded boyhood and
study in the seminary would be likely to give him.
The women listened to his sermons, clasping pale babies to
thin breasts, and looking up at him with patient eyes, whose
sadness had been drawn from the gaunt breasts of their
mothers before them, and they accepted his words, although
not especially applicable to the needs of their lot, as good in
themselves, and felt a vague, far-off desire to help him, born
of the maternal instinct of their womanhood, and his youth,
and a dim perception that he had much to learn.
But the men gave scant attention to the boyish priest, and
when he exhorted them to keep away from the saloon, dis-
cussed his advice around the bar afterwards, smiling grimly at
the impracticability of offering men the distant hope of heaven
in exchange for the present bliss of the fiery stuff in their
gnawing stomachs.
But as time went on the young priest took' on a dignity in
their eyes apart from, and far more effectual than, the mere
fact of his ordination. He was quick to learn, and quick to
feel the tragic needs of their life, and he ceased to exhort
them for very shame of the difference between his past and
theirs, stung with the bitterness of the lot that had made them
what they were from their cradle, and farther back still. He
worked for them and with them, spending every penny of the
little salary they gave him for them, reserving for himself
barely enough to feed himself poorly, and going about among
them with coat and shoes already, at the end of the first year,
getting very glossy and white about the seams and rusty and
cracked in the vamps.
And with such garments thus worn he needed less to ex-
hort, for the shabby coat preached for him ; and when he went
in shoes yawning at the side to beg the men to help him estab-
lish a coffee-house, where they could meet and substitute
honest hot coffee for the foe to which they were delivering
themselves, many responded, and the coffee-house was a success
where every one predicted failure.
Tender sympathy, love, and a thirst for their souls that
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1897-] Christmas at St. Dunstan's. 291
made his people realize dimly for the first time what God
might be — this Father Francis showed to his flock, and his
youth and delicate frame made him dearer to them, calling out
a tenderness in the rough men and coarse-fibred women that
supplemented their reverence, and perfected the relation be-
tween them.
" Father Francis " became a name to conjure by, even with
the big Englishmen and Welshmen who were not Catholics
and the castaways of St. Dunstan's who never entered the
church ; and since his family name was also a familiar Christian
name, nearly every child he baptized after he had been in the
parish a year was called Francis, with only the variation in the
last syllable required by differences of sex.
**And Father Francis's a real gentleman born," the people
would say proudly, till the oldest woman in the parish gave a
more spiritual turn to their pride in him by saying : ** Ay, that
he is, of the rale nobility, for he's one of the saints of God.**
The chief mill of Pyritesville was owned by a man named
Denhard, whose splendid house on the outskirts of the town
was built of the sinews of men, and cemented by their blood.
There were many hard, close employers in the district ; there
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292 Christmas at St. Dunstan's. [Dec.,
was none other with such a black record as Denhard's, whose
name suffered appropriate and obvious profane corruptions on
the lips of his men.
: It was Father Francis* second summer at St, Dunstan's,
and it had been a hard one, although the warmth and
nature's provision of fruits lightened the expenses of each
household, and the mill had been running at full hours and
with a heavy amount of work. But the amount of work was
too great ; the mill was turning out more than could possibly
be required, and those who thought shook their heads, foresee-
ing one of " Denhard's dirty tricks." No warnings could get
the majority of the- men to provide for the troublous times thus
predicted, for they spent as they went ; nor, indeed, at the best
was there very much to lay by against a rainy day out of the
wages of a man who had not less than seven mouths to fill
and backs to clothe.
In September came the fulfilment of the prophecies of the
thoughtful. Wages were not reduced because the union stood
between Denhard and that possibility, but the announcement
was made that the mill would run but four days in the week,
because it could not afford to do more owing to an over-
stocked market. ** Over-stocked Denhard ! " said the knowing
ones. " We told you. He worked us hard for five months at
regular rates, and now he shuts down because he's got the
stuff ahead to fill orders." But what was the use of talking?
There was no redress for the misfortune ; the union could not
interfere to make a man run his mill when he said that he
could not afford it, and on the four days of the week which
they worked the men were paid at schedule rates. But how
could they live with two days' earnings cut off from their
already scant means? That was the problem to be met, the
solving of which fell heaviest on the patient women, whom the
saloons did not help but rather fatally hindered.
There was sullen 'endurance through the glorious days of
October, debt rolling up while the mountains clothed them-
selves in gold and crimson, and the leaves fell, making a
Persian carpet under the heavy feet of the iron-workers.
Matters had been going from bad to worse in the parish since
late autumn had come, and the winds were blowing cold from
the mountains, bringing scurries of snow with them. Thanks-
giving brought very little gratitude to the hearts of the people
of St. Dunstan's, looking in the face a long winter in a severe
region, with no hope of better days till spring, and then such
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I897-] Christmas at St. Dunstan's. 293
a load of debt incurred as would prevent the improvement
affecting their condition. And Mr. Denh^ird's family went to
Europe just before the end of November ; all but his crippled
son, whom people said was the one thing he loved^ and who
stayed with his father in the big house.
Men gathered in knots about the corners.
Father Francis went about with a heavy heart and anxious
brow that took from him the youthfulness as mere years
could not take it. He had had no experience with the troubles
among which he had been placed, but any one capable of re-
flection could see that desperate men, to whom the present was
bitterly hard and the future more menacing still, could not be
held in check, and he dared not speculate on the possible
events of the winter. He redoubled his prayers and labor, and
he could not help knowing that his people loved him as they
had never loved him before, for he passionately resented their
wrongs ; but he realized how impotent was human pity, and
felt like a straw on the great ocean of human suffering and
passion, struggling with the agony of youth in its first en-
counter with the injustice it feels most keenly and cannot
stay.
The men began gathering in knots around the saloons and
corners, and the air was full of muttered threats. Father Fran-
cis went from one to another of these groups warning, implor-
ing. •' Don't strike, men ; for the love of your poor wives and
babies, don't strike I " he begged. ** You are helpless ; Denhard
has the whole thing in his own hands. He has worked up
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294 Christmas at St. Dunstan's. [Dec,
enough stock to last till spring, and he would rather shut down
than not. And where would you be ? Half a loaf is better
than none. As it is, you can keep along; badly it is true, but
somehow. But with no work you would have no credit, and
you'd starve. Don't strike — I pray you trust me, and don't
strike]"
The men listened respectfully, sullenly, tolerantly, according
to their dispositions ; but they hated Denhard and they longed
to get at him, and the only means they knew for this was to
refuse to work for him. Their leader was a man who had a
grudge of long standing against Denhard, and he was a fellow
whose leadership was not won by fitness for the office, nor real
sympathy with his comrades. He was a labor leader for what
there was in it ; and just now there was before his eyes but
his power to call out the men, and force Denhard to close or
make terms. That these men were to be the sufferers in the
plan was not a matter that he considered in the least. And so
the strike was ordered, and three weeks before Christmas the
poor fellows, wronged by their employer and by their own
leader, went out, and the mill was declared closed,
Denhard issued a sort of manifesto, in which he set forth
the fact that he had fulfilled his contracts with the union and
paid full wages, but that a man had an inalienable right to
take care of his own interests. So, since he could not run bis
mill more than four days in the week without loss to himself,
and was so well stocked that suspension was welcome to him,
the mill would shut down until the men should see the folly
of their position and beg for work on the old terms.
Angry mutterings, swelling to open threats, hailed this dec-
laration. Father Francis did his best to meet the cruel situa-
tion which he had been powerless to avert. Even one week of
idleness brought sharp suffering to the families who had made
no preparation for it, and to make it harder, the winter set in
early with old-fashioned vigor and severity.
It was known that there was no hope of Denhard's yielding,
but that rather he had foreseen and desired this enforced idle-
ness, and in many of the shops the men were refused a credit
which would probably be too long to ever be discharged.
In ten days* time the suffering became severe, though it was
accompanied with the acts of beautiful self-sacrifice of the poor
for one another and the selfish cruelty which such times
always bring forth.
Father Francis spent every cent he possessed for food for
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1897O Christmas at St. Dunstan's. 295
his people, and when this was done, which did not take long,
he pledged himself to discharge the debt if the grocer and
butcher would give him the credit which they refused to the
laborers. He got it, but his credit was limited, as was his sal-
ary, and all that he could do was to lighten a very little the aw-
ful gloom in the parish of St. Dunstan.
Sickness came, and the babies died— not many, for the chil-
dren of the poor have a strong hold on life, but the weaker —
and, looking down on the little pinched, waxen faces, Father
Francis thought the wiser — died. Worse than this, pretty,
flighty Nellie Byrnes, whom he had been trying to save from a
flashy, prosperous admirer and her own love of ribbons, went
away deliberately to the city, saying that she could not stand
her father's barren home any longer.
And Denhard drove in his big, fur-lined coat down to the
station and through the town, stout, red-faced from over-dining,
absolutely impervious to the agony around him.
Father Francis' pale face grew grimmer at the sight, and he
could hardly wonder at the muttered curses that followed Den-
hard from the gaunt men on the corners.
Thus the days dragged on, one like another, the situation
unchanged except as every day heightened and accumulated
the misery, and the men grew more restless under a burden
too heavy to bean
Father Francis feared all sorts of nameless horrors, for he
knew the people were getting desperate, and he knew that
though justice was on their side, the power was all on the
other.
He seemed never to sleep ; all his moments and hours were
spent among his people, and in the midst of their bitterness
and torture they loved him with a love that knew no bounds.
Two days before Christmas Father Francis commissioned
some of the larger boys and girls to gather evergreens to trim
the church, hoping in his aching heart that something of the
sweetness of the feast might fall on the poor souls for whom
Heaven and its peace toward earth were sorely hidden by the
bad will of man. He saw the deepening gloom on the faces
around him, caught the echo of menaces that frightened him,
but he hoped against hope, never dreaming that the end was
so near.
It was Christmas eve, and the church was trimmed for the
feast, and Father Francis rose from long and passionate prayer
among the fragments of cedar heaped on the altar-steps, and
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296 Christmas at St. Di/j^staa*s. [Dec,
"gave a parting look around the plain and tasteful little church
before he locked the door for the night. He stood a few mo-
ments under the quiet stars, looking upward and wondering at
their silent watchfulness of a world so full of wrong. He was
too young not to feel that nature should show some pity for
the life of man.
The night was still, the air clear and cold. Every sound
could be heard for long distances, and the young priest dis-
tinctly heard the tramp of many feet going in the opposite
direction. As he listened, in fear of he knew not what, one of
his boys came toward him, running at top speed.
" Oh, father, come ; mother sent me ! " he gasped. " Father
and the men have gone to burn old Denhard's house. He's
away and the cripple's there. She said you'd stop 'em ! "
Father Francis did not pause for hat ; he wore his great-
coat over his cassock, and gathering up the skirts, he ran with
all his best speed, by a shorter and more direct way than the
mob had taken, to the big house which they were to attack.
He had been living on two meals a day during the trouble,
and he feared his own weakness, but nerves did more than
muscles could have done, and the boy at his side had hard
work to keep pace with him.
He reached Denhard's house before the men, but only a few
moments before, and when the crowd came up the hill they
halted an instant in amazement, for there on the steps, his
pale face standing out in the moonlight, bare-headed and erect,
stood their young priest facing them. While they hesitated at
the sight of him, he hastened to use the advantage their sur-
prise gave him.
" My men," he said, and his voice was strong and clear,
" thank God I'm here to save you ! Go back ! ' Vengeance is
mine,' saith the Lord. Your cause is just ; you shall not spoil
it by wrong. Trust me — I would gladly die for you ! No one
could hurt you as you would have hurt yourselves had you
done this thing."
"We're going to make that devil sizzle for what he's done
to us," spoke up a burly fellow at the front. "You go away,
Father Francis. You're a good man, and you're our friend,
and we know it ; but you're a priest, and we don't want any
forgiveness in ours. We'll get a little square on our account.
We couldn't pay him back, not if we was to cut him into inch
pieces."
A murmur of applause followed. Father Francis was quick
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to catch a clue, and he answefed at once : " Tm not preaching
forgivene$s like a priest. I couldn't blame you if you weren't
ready to see that side. But I'm talking to you as your best
friend, a man who loves you, and I say don't make bad worse.
Go back! for you're bringing awful suffering on your children
by this night's work."
" We'll go back by the light of Denhard's house ! " cried a
voice in the crowd, and instantly a shout arose : " Burn it !
burn itl Kill the cripple in there! Take the priest away!"
Father Francis stood firmly against the door, his white,
boyish face outlined on the background of the dark wood.
The torches, which had been lighted from hand to hand in the
last few moments, blazed up illuming the brawny chests, the
grim faces, the muscular arms of the men who held them, in
sharp contrast to the frail, slender figure facing them alone.
Father Francis raised his hand, and even then his voice had
power to make itself heard. " I forbid you this sin," he said.
" I command you to go back ! I beg you to spare yourselves
this new trouble. I love you, oh ! my people ; remember what
night this is, and go back ! "
For a moment the men looked at one another as if they
might yield, but a voice called out : ** We're not all your people.
Some of us bez no Catholics."
"There^'s no Catholic or Protestant to me if a man's hun-
gry — ^you know that," retorted Father Francis quickly. "You're
all mine."
" Don't stand talking " said big Jim, the Welshman. " Take
the priest off. What's a boy like that know of starving men ?
Take him off, or he'll get hurt. Now : Curse Denhard ! Al-
together, three times — Damn him ! "
Three times the curse arose like a cheer, and in the shout
Father Francis knew his influence was lost.
"Stop!" he cried. "I'll stay here. If you burn the house,
you burn me ! "
But his words were checked by the first man who sprang
forward to thrust his torch through the glass of the front door,
and by its light Father Francis caught a glimpse of the white
face of the cripple boy cowering on the stairs.
Father Francis seized the man's arm and stayed him, but
as he held him at arm's length by his upraised hands, a shot
whistled through the air, and the priest staggered and fell face
downward on the marble steps. What his life could not ac-
complish his death instantly purchased !
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298 Christmas at St. Dunstan^s. [Dec,
Deep in the heart of every man there, except the few who
were present for pure delight in violence, was the love for this
devoted priest, and the groan that burst forth as he fell was
the knell of the hopes of those who longed for vengeance.
The torches were thrown down, and trampled out by the feet
pressing forward to see if the motionless figure, in its long black
cassock, on the white stone was dead.
And as they raised him the police were heard coming up
the street at double quick, and Denhard was with them.
' They carried Father Francis into the house which he had
defended, and many of the terror-stricken men rushed back to
the town for a physician. The priest was not dead — more than
that no one could say till the doctor came. The ball was
probed for and found ; the patient made as comfortable as pos-
sible, and he opened his eyes and bade the doctor tell him
the truth.
" By morning you will be in heaven, and God only knows
what we shall do without you," answered the old doctor with
tear-wet cheeks, for he and the young priest had often met in
scenes of misery which both were powerless to relieve, and he
loved him well.
Father Francis half arose. "Take me back to the town; I
could not die in this house," he said.
"Is my. house so accursed?" asked Denhard.
"So accursed," assented Father Francis. "You, rather than
the man who fired that shot, are my murderer in God's eyes;
and not mine alone, but the murderer of the innocent little
children and the bodies and souls of men ! "
Denhard shrank ; he was trembling.
" Father Francis, I owe you the life of my son, my poor
crippled son ! You will die for him and me."
" I would gladly have saved him at any price," replied the
priest. " I die for my people — to save them from sin and the
consequences of that desperation to which you have driven
them."
" Can I do anything ? " asked Denhard.
The light of hope flashed across the dying man's face.
"Justice," he said. "Pay the debts I owe to the grocer
and butcher for food for these people."
" I will gladly carry out your charity," replied Denhard.
" Not charity from you to them," said the priest. " Pay
the debt which you owe for their food, and which I incurred
for you."
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1897J Christmas at St. Dunstan's. 299
*^ So be it/' answered the man "humbly. ^' I am sorry for
the wrong* I will obey you in anything."
Father Francis looked at him, and his eyes were moist.
^'You seem sincere/' he murmured,
^'I love my son/V said Denhard. "I am grateful/'
'^ Open the mill at full time — swear to me by the God 1
am going to that you will never oppress the laborer again!"
cried Father Francis, excitedly,
*^ I do not believe in your God/' said Denhard, ** but I swear
to you solemnly that I will treat these men while I live as you
would have me treat them, for your sake ! "
Father Francis smiled, a bright, boyish smile. "Now, if
they did not love me so dearly, what a merry Christmas they
would have ! " he said, ^' But they'll be happy anyway after
awhile. I'll take your promise to God, Mr. Denhard, and ask
Him in return to show you Himself* Now carry me down to
the town, for I want to die among my people.*'
Mr. Denhard clasped the hand outstretched to him, speech-
less with emotion.
"Never mind; I'm very glad, I never could have done for
my parish in years what these short moments of dying have
done," said Father Francis. "Good-by."
The men were waiting silent, grief-stricken, outside the gates,
and women and children were with them sobbing in suppressed
anguish, for the news of the tragedy had been carried to the
town.
"The doctor says I'm going to keep Christmas in heaven,'*
said Father Francis as they pressed around his litter. ^* But
the mill is to open at full hours and pay, and Denhard has
sworn to be good to you for ever. Give three cheers for Den
hard, especially you who cursed him ! "
There was profound silence.
" For my sake, dear friends," added Father Francis ; and
the cheers arose, broken by sobs. " And now we will go home,"
said Father Francis. And with the people following, weeping,
the procession went down the hill it had ascended so differ-
ently.
It was past midnight when they paused at the church door,
and creeping up to look in the face so boyish and peaceful
under the wintry sky, they saw that Father Francis had gently
gone on his long journey beneath the Christmas stars.
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UlS pMOI^IS,
Liov'e w[]ispered, vvl]en the World Was young,
In Qjden's listening ear
I he fiat of the | riune tongue:
Lo! notl]ingness did hear.
ljON7e planted, when the World was old,
0f (i'jesse's stem the rod,
/hich blossomed in the crib, loehold
I he floWer, (^hrist our (giod I
Bert Martel
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302 Catholicity in the West. [Dec,
CATHOLICITY IN THE WEST.
BY LELIA HARDIN BUGG.
NCE upon a time there lived a poet who, during
his life, was often too poor to buy enough to
eat. After he was dead his countrymen, awaken-
ing to a knowledge that a great genius had gone
from among them, erected an imposing monu-
ment to his memory. Sydney Smith — or was it some one else
with a kindred soul? — upon hearing of this monument, said:
" Poor fellow ! you asked for bread and they gave you a
stone."
We Catholics are very kind to our heroes who are dead.
We are proud to contribute our mites to erect monuments, or
to pay for memorial windows for our Marquettes and Menards
and De Smets and Rosatis and Sorins and Kenricks. We
thrill over the lives of the early American bishops and mis-
sionaries, and the ardent, if sometimes fiery, confessors of the
faith ; and we are generously sorry that our lines were not
cast in those stirring epochs, that our souls could not have
borne something of the heat and burden of heroic days, when
the seed of the faith was planted in new soil. How glorious it
would have been to sacrifice jewels, and teach Indians, and
shelter missionaries! We contrast the past with our own age
of accomplished work — the age of gorgeous cathedrals lighted
by electricity ; of Catholic schools, teaching everything from the
art of moulding nice little mud-pies to solving a problem by
logarithms ; of organized charity, whereby our sick poor are
taken to antiseptic wards in a pneumatic elevator. We think
complacently of all this prosperity, and sink luxuriously on a
divan to scan the syllabus for next year's Summer-School, or
to jot down an engagement at the Reading Circle to discuss
Browning's place in Modern Thought.
The Eastern Catholic, who thinks he knows all about the
•West because he has been to the World's Fair at Chicago, and
who is vaguely conscious that there are regions beyond that
arrogantly beautiful city, where the habitants embody the old
geographical distinctions — civilized, half-civilized, and savage* —
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1897O Catholicity IN the West. 303
really knows nothing about the vast territory, or the changed
conditions into which a Pullman car will whirl him in three
short days.
And until he is familiar with these conditions he will not
understand why writing about the Church in America is very
much like writing about things in general. Although the same
flag waves over us all, the same Constitution guarantees us life,
liberty, and as much happiness as original sin and uncertain
crops permit, yet Catholicity in the West is as unlike Catholi-
city in the East, in relation to material conditions, as life in a
Newport palace is unlike life in an Adirondack hunting camp.
We Catholics in the West stand, in regard to our pros-
perous brethren in the East, very much in the attitude of the
typical poor relation. We rejoice in their splendid prosperity,
in their churches and hospitals and asylums, in their great men
—the Catholic lawyers, and statesmen, and poets, and finan-
ciers, whose names and fame belong to their country and, per-
haps, to the world ; we read eagerly of their celebrations,
dedications, and ceremonials, and fill our scrap-books with their
pictures ; we remember them with fond pride, but it is quite
possible that they forget all about us. They live in such an
atmosphere of Catholicity triumphant that they do not realize
how very militant indeed is Catholicity in another section of
our common country.
Westward the course of empire takes its way, and on its
course it repeats the hardships of its earlier migrations.
This paragraph of statistics may recall to mind and explain
some of the conditions of the West — statistics compiled with
much weariness and vexation of spirit, for this sort of writing
is not easy when one has not Mulhall's tables at hand and is
seven hundred miles away from Father Hugh McShane.
If the Eastern Catholic will take a map of his country and
spread it before him, he will see that the centre of the State
of Kansas is the geographical centre of the United States.
The eastern boundaries of the States parallel to Kansas and
north and south of it divide the country commercially into
eastern and western divisions, although the geographical divi-
sion extends through the centre of those States. It will thus
be seen that the area of the western division is greater by the
half of six States than the eastern. Some may claim that com-
mercially another tier of States belongs to the West, but a
closer study will show that they approach more nearly to the
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304
Catholicity in the West.
[Dec,
conditions of the East ; especially is this true of Iowa and
Missouri. We have, then, here in the West a vast area of
territory, enough to make a half-dozen fair-sized European
kingdoms.
The political divisions are (Census of 1890):
State.
Area.
Population
North Dakota, .
. 70,795
182,719
South Dakota, .
. 77,650
328,808
Nebraska, .
. 76.855
1,058,910
Kansas,
. 82,080
1,427,096
Indian Territory and
Oklahoma, .
. 64,690
61,834
Texas,
. 265,780
• 2,235,523
Montana, .
. 146,080
132,159
Wyoming, .
. 97,890
60,705
Colorado, .
. 103,925
412,148
New Mexico,
. 122,580
153,593
Idaho,
. 84,800
61,834
Utah, .
. 84,900
207,905
Arizona,
. 113,020
59,620
Washington,
. 69,180
345,506
Oregon,
. 96,030
313,767
Nevada,
. 110,700
45,761
California, .
. 157,801
1,208,130
17
1,834,756
6,296,018
20 per cent, increas
5e, . . .
1,259,203
7,555,221
Counting the increase in population for five years at 20 per
cent., we have for the West a population of 7,555,221.
United States,
3,602,000
1,834,756
1,767,244
(about) 65,000,000
7,555,221
57,444,779
An elementary problem in arithmetic will show that there
is in the western division an excess in area over the eastern of
67,512 miles; and an excess in population of the eastern over
the western of 49,889,558.
The ecclesiastical divisions are (Directory of 1895):
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1897.] Catholicity in the West. 305
Churches and Catholic
Diocese, Priests. Mission Stations. Population.
Jamestown (North Dakota), 40 149 30,000
Sioux Falls (South Dakota), 62 149 50,000
Omaha (Nebraska), . . loi 205 63,472
Lincoln (Nebraska), . . 54 138 22,150
Kansas City (Kansas), .124 182 50,000
Wichita-Concordia (Kansas), 41 175 20,000
Indian Territory (Vicariate
Apostolic), ... 23 119 12,385
Dallas (Texas), ... 40 iii 15,000
Galveston (Texas), . • 39 60 34,000
San Antonio (Texas), .55 74 SS»ooo
Brownsville, V. A. (Texas), 22 34 54,000
Helena (Montana), . . 32 34 30,000
Cheyenne (Wyoming), . 8 56 3,000
Denver (Colorado), . . 76 130 60,000
Santa Fe (New Mexico), . 54 344 100,000
Boise City (Idaho), . . 19 28 96,000
Salt Lake City (Utah), .19 57 8,000
Arizona, V. A., ... 36 37 20,000
Nesqually (Washington), .60 159 40,000
Oregon City (Oregon), . 50 80 33»500
San Francisco (California), 192 128 220,000
Monterey and Los Ange-
les (California), . . 76 119 60,000
Sacramento (California), . 43 147 25,000
23 1.265 2,715 1,015,107
(Nevada is divided between the dioceses of Salt Lake and
Sacramento.)
There are in the United States 1 5 Archbishops, 74 Bishops,
9,754 Priests, and (about) 12,000,000 Catholic people.
Therefore, there are in the eastern division of the country
66 Bishops, 8,489 Priests, and about 11,000,000 people.
The average area of the territory over which a Western bishop
has jurisdiction is 79,772 square miles, some dioceses being
larger, others much smaller.
The diocese of Dallas has an area of 110,000 square miles,
the largest in the country.
Leaving out of consideration the larger cities and towns,
and the well-to-do parishes (the number is not large) where
the pastors lead lives similar to those of their confreres in the
East, we have left a body of priests doing heroic mission work
in the West with all the ardor which characterized their proto-
types in pioneer days. . »
VOL. LXVI. — 20
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3o6 Catholicity if{ the West. [Dec,
HEROIC LABORS OF THE WESTERN PRIEST.
If one remembers the sparsely settled districts over i^hich
the Western missionary must travel, the poverty of the people,
the absence of the comforts which an older civilization de-
mands, it will readily be conceded that their work is really
heroic.
The life of a Catholic priest is not exactly a life of sybaritic
ease anywhere. In the terse vernacular of the West, it is not
the '* Vestibuled Limited " to heaven. But the clergyman in
the East, however poor his parish, has at least the comfortable
certainty of sleeping some three hundred nights of the year in
his own bed, of getting three meals a day and in one place,
of knowing that when his frock coat or Sunday cassock be-
comes too shabby he can replace it out of his meagre but
assured salary. The poor missionary in the West hardly knows
where his home is. His parish is often as large as an Eastern
diocese, and the diocese may include a whole State, with
scarcely people enough to make one average city congregation.
It not infrequently happens that he has as many as eight
missions to attend, going to a different one every Sunday, and
saying Mass at convenient points in farm-houses or lonely
little chapels during the week. And his salary is one of the
things to be accepted on faith, with good intentions and will-
ing hearts as non-negotiable collaterals.
Priests destined for the Western missions are generally more
or less prepared in college for the life they are to expect.
They find that it means poverty, hard work, constant travel on
horseback or in freight cars, facing at all hours the bitter cold
and piercing winds and biting sleet of winter, the stifling heat
of summer, with the sun beating down in untempered ferocity
on treeless, thirsty, alkali plains, and mosquitoes and flies to
work their will ; that it means no home for many of them,
only a stopping-place for a day or two out of each week, poor
food wretchedly cooked, a habitation where bath-rooms are un-
known and ice is merely a tradition ; few books except the
well-thumbed text-books of the seminary, and no society. The
loneliness is perhaps one of the greatest trials of the mission-
ary's life when he goes West, fresh from college, with his
classics and his philosophy and his theology, after years of asso-
ciation with great D.D.s and scholarly professors and hundreds
of fellow-students, some of them brilliant and all of them
learned. The change must be striking, indeed, when one who
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1897O Catholicity in the West. 307
has been living with Aristotle and St. Thomas, and all the
great Fathers of the Church, in an atmosphere of cloistral piety
and scholasticism, is placed in a mission where he must explain
the Ten Commandments and the Creed in words of two
syllables, and show an interest he cannot always feel in the
crops and the selling price of pork!
MISSIONARY EXPERIENCES.
Some of the missionary experiences in the West read much
like the annals of an earlier day, when the new-born Republic
was still in long clothes, and devoted apostles from St. Sulpice
or Maynooth came over to carry on and extend the work be-
gun in an age yet earlier.
Not long ago a priest of western Kansas went two hundred
miles on a sick-call through a region where railroads are un-
known, going * on horseback or in a wagon, travelling almost
constantly day and night, snatching a bit to eat on the way,
and saying his office as he speeded along. He beat death by
just six hours, arriving whilst the poor woman still retained
her faculties, and administered the last Sacraments. Had he
tarried for needed rest and repose, he would have been too
late. •
There is a young priest attached to a Western parish who
rises at four o'clock on Sunday morning, goes three miles
into the country to say Mass at a convent, takes the train at
seven for a town twenty miles away, where he says another Mass^
at half-past ten and preaches a sermon, breaking his fast at
about one o'clock. In the afternoon he gives an instruction,
baptizes the new babies, and ends the day with Vespers and
Benediction of the Blessed Sacrament.
An amusing illustration of the adage that all roads lead to
Rome is given by the experiences of a missionary in Texas
who has since been made an archbishop. He was on his way
to his mission astride a mule, when the mule, after the charac-
teristic crankiness of its kind, decided to stop and view the
scenery. Blows had no effect, and the priest could not adopt
the remedy usual under the circumstances — he could not swear
at it — so he dismounted and tried diplomacy. It worked likq
a charm. A cowboy, who had been an admiring witness of the
contest, came up to the reverend victor and said :
"See here. Mister Priest, I ain't never keered for parsons
of your stripe, but a preacher that can get ahead of a mule
has got grit, and I want to hear you preach ! "
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3o8 Catholicity in the West. * [Dec,
The sturdy frontiersman heard the future prelate preach,
not only once but many times, asked for instruction, was
baptized, and lived a staunch, albeit a pugnacious, Catholic.
But how lightly these priests take their hardships and their
poverty ! Their spirit would puzzle a worldling who is a
stranger to the supernatural motive which can inspire and
make easy their work.
A clever young priest, who made his theological studies in
France and was sent West to a country mission, comes into
civilization occasionally, as he puts it, and is the guest of a
woman of culture who tries to keep up with current events.
On one of these occasions she chatted to her visitor about
the crops, the indications of rain in his section, and the families
of his parish, thinking to be sympathetically interesting, until
he said impulsively: '^Please talk to me about your sewing
society, or the Shakspere club, or base-ball — anything except
corn and silver ! "
It was this same clergyman who kept moving nervously
in his chair as he talked, until his entertainer said kindly :
"Father, won't you have this rocking-chair? I am afraid that
one is not comfortable."
The young man blushed, and, with the frank smile which
had won him friends at school, replied:
"Thank you, the. c^iair is comfortable — very; but I have an
uneasy consciousness that the sun is striking the shiny spot in
the back of my coat. Putting your best foot forward is not a
circumstance to keeping the shabby part of a coat in the
background."
Here is a realistic little sketch which one might call "A
Tale of a Missionary," after the fashion of the Sunday-school
story books :
" We reached Blank City at eleven o'clock at night, the
train having been delayed two hours by a wrecked freight car.
I asked the lone hackman to take me to a good hotel where
one could get a comfortable bed and some supper. He said :
^ Well, there's the Continental and there's the Palace, and
there ain't a toss-up between 'em ; but the Palace is nearer to
the Catholic meetin'-house, and Miz Johnson's first husband —
she runs the Palace — was a member of that persuasion.' So
to the Palace I went. A small lamp, which smelled horribly
of coal-oil, made manifest the pitch darkness of the long,
narrow hall where I waited until Mr. Johnson, wrapped in his
wife's shawl, emerged from an uncanny corridor. To my timid
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suggestion that a bit of supper would not be considered ill-
timed by a man who had been fasting since noon, he replied :
'This ain't an all-night bar, and my wife's asleep ; and there ain't
nothin' cooked, nohow. But you can git breakfast at seven in
the morning, if you want it.' This was merely a piece of irre-
levant information to the priest who was going to celebrate
Mass, by the grace of God, at eight o'clock. But I said
nothing, and was shown to my room. It was on the north
side of the house, and in it there was a stove but no fire. A
window had parted with two of its panes, regardless of the
pains of another sort it might inflict, and the wind came in
like a toy cyclone. The bed had one blanket and a top cover
made out of a lot of red and green rags sewed on a sheet, or
something white ; I suppose it was intended to be pretty ; it
certainly was not warm. I got into bed, put my overcoat over
my feet, but the marrow in my bones was more chilled than
Hamlet's, and my teeth chattered so much that I was afraid
the filling would fall out of one of them. I remembered that
I had a newspaper in my valise, and paper, you know, is one
of the warmest things in the world — keeps the cold out and
the heat in — so I made a blanket of the paper — Sunday edition
it was, and big ; I had not properly appreciated before the
blessings of the Sunday press. In three minutes I was as
warm as a prince tucked in under eider down. I went to sleep
and slept delightfully until six. But during the night it had
snowed, and the snow had drifted in on the paper and covered
the bed."
This bit of realism provoked a sympathetic murmur, but
the priest said :
"Oh, the snow! I didn't mind about the snow — didn't know
anything about it, in fact, until I awoke the next morning. It
was the newspaper I was thinking of. The snow had turned
it into pulp. I hadn't read it, and It had Archbishop Ireland's
sermon on Patriotism in the supplement. A thing like that
tries a man's patience when he hasn't the Astor Library around,
and counts newspapers among the luxuries."
On another occasion this genial apostle had an appointment to
say Mass in a certain church on the following morning. He
was then between two railroads equally distant, about seven
railes from either ; one train would leave at seven in the
evening, the other at ten. The priest consulted the driver,
who assured him that they could make the seven o'clock train
without any difficulty, so, supperless but hopeful, the young
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<:leric started for the station, only to reach it ten minutes after
the train had pulled out. There was only one thing to be
done, and that was to hasten back over the fourteen miles to
the other railroad.
*' Weren't you angry ? " asked some one sympathetically.
"Angry? I couldn't afford to be! I should have had to
go fifty miles to confession ! "
A venerable old man who had given forty years of his life
to the service of Indians and pioneers, and had gained chronic
bronchitis and accumulated at least two hundred dollars, con-
tributed an account of one of his experiences with "hotels."
Foot-sore and weary, he had stopped for a night's rest. Upon
asking to be shown to his room, the landlord took up a
lantern — this tale was related as a sober fact — ^and conducted
the priest to a back yard enclosed by an adobe fence, where a
score of cots were placed, some of them already occupied by
cowboys and ranchmen, and told the poor tired priest to help
himself to a bed. This was in New Mexico, where the phe-
nomenally pure air renders such Spartan treatment compara-
tively harmless; but it will readily be conceded that for civilized
man this was really not the most agreeable entertainment to
be expected.
Another priest lives in a mud house, when he is not travel-
ling, a house which cost just fifty dollars to build, and even
this sum the people were too poor to give, so it was contri-
buted by the bishop of the diocese.' Nor are the bishops
themselves in some of the Western sees exempt from the
hardships of their priests. Looking at the matter from a
worldly point of view, the priest wha gives up a good parish
to become a bishop in certain parts of the West has made a
sacrifice.
There is a little story current among clerics of a lazy
Irishman who was employed as watchman for a gentleman's
house. A crony of his, less comfortably placed, said enviously :
"You seem to be havin' a soft time of it, wid nothin' to do
but smoke your pipe and watch us poor divils go by ye ! '' "I
ain't a complainin'," said Pat, knocking the ashes from his pipe;
" but I tell ye what, Mike, for a good aisy job, I'd like to be
a bishop."
It is possible that some of the friends of a new bishop
may share Patrick's conception of his " aisy job."
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i897*] Catholicity iir the West. 311
A bishop's lot is not a happy one.
When a priest whose scholarly attainments and sterling vir-
tue have commended him to the powers that be, and he is
selected for the ranks of the prelacy, there is great rejoicing
among his friends and his old parishioners ; congratulations
pour in, and presents — vestments, and a chalice, and a cross
and rings. There is a banquet at which everybody says nice
things of everybody else, the new bishop's fellow-priests present
him with beautifully engrossed resolutions, lied with ribbons,
expressive of their regrets at his departure from among them,
their joy at the honor which has come to him, and their good
wishes for his success; a purse probably accompanies the reso-
lutions — a purse which neither the givers nor the gifted dream
how sorely will be needed! There is a farewell reception, then
a railroad magnate places his private car at the disposal of the
prelate and his friends, and the distinguished party are whirled
away — the bishop from a good parish, a settled income, a de-
voted people, the friends of years. Upon reaching his new
field of labor there are more rejoicings and receptions and
processions — it is not necessary to refer here to the religious
ceremonies which are inseparable from the consecration and in-
stallation of a newly-appointed bishop — the visitors take their
departure, and the prelate is left to his fate. He finds debts
and difficulties, hard work and arduous travel, controversies,
cranks, and criticism.
A friend of a popular Chicago rector said to him : " I hear
it whispered that we are soon to have the pleasure of congratu-
lating you as the new Bishop of Westoria."
*' I the Bishop of Westoria ! " said the priest. " Why, what
have I done that I should be so punished ? "
Some of our Western bishops could, if they would, match the
stories of the pioneer prelates. It was the companion of a
bishop on a confirmation tour who tells this o'er true tale.
The bishop and his companion started from the station to
go to a church ten miles away from the railroad, in a barouche
considered the star turnout of the neighborhood, which had
been sent for them. The weather was very dry and the vehicle
had not been used for some time, so that when the party
essayed to cross a creek the wheels parted company, and one
sank into the water for a rather inopportune bath. The bishop
had played ball in the days of his youth, so he gave the valise
containing his vestments a dextrous toss, and landed it in
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312 Catholicity in the West. [Dec,
safety on the bank. The driver unhitched the horses and rode
to the nearest farm-house, where he procured a wagon. It was
a commodious affair, painted green with red arabesques on
the sides, and the name of the maker in big letters on one
end. The bishop sat with the driver in the seat, perched loftily
on two stiff springs, and the priest folded his legs under him
and settled himself on some straw. And in this dignified way
they made their entrance into the parish, where the pastor and
the people, the school-girls in white frocks and wreaths and
veils, and the local band had assembled to welcome the bishop,
all heroically sweet-tempered after their long hours of waiting
and wondering what had happened.
Priests and people love their church and do its work heroic-
ally. When they succeed in building a little chapel with un-
painted pews, and placing on its walls chromo stations of the
cross in vivid reds and blues, the sight of which would be a
mental hair-shirt for an artist, they feel the same sort of ela-
tion which thrills the popular rector and his prosperous con-
gregation when an architect's dream in stately stone and gleam-
ing marble is dedicated by an archbishop, with the splendid
ceremonies of Mother Church.
A stranger to the policy and discipline of the Catholic
clergy would be astonished, and ought to be truly edified, at
the class of men to which our missionaries belong. It is safe
to say that no Protestant denomination ever sends university
graduates and doctors of divinity to minister to struggling col-
onies of poor peasants, and to endure the hardships of frontier
life. Among these hard-worked missionaries is a brilliant mathe-
matician whose gifts have long been considered wonderful by
the few who know anything about them ; another is an expert
astronomer ; another is a profound canonist. One priest — and
there may be many like him — has Irish, Germans, Bohemians,
and Italians in his parish, and he hears the confessions in the
native tongues of all.
In charge of a country 'parish in Kansas is a saintly man
who was once the Episcopalian Bishop of Rome, with all the
dignity and power and state the title, implies — a man with
noble blood in his veins, and related to a dozen titled families
in England, who had a career before him that offered the
prizes of life, but who gave . up everything for the One Thing.
Every one has heard of Father Gallitzin, the prince-priest of
Pennsylvania, but hardly any one has heard of this noblest
nobleman who has exchanged a palace for a cottage, a carriage
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1897.] Catholicity in the West. 313
and pair for a caboose, the place of honor at a ducal table for
a solitary repast of bread and hominy, and coffee made of rye.
Ah, the consolation of that celestial book-keeping which lets
not the smallest fraction of a sacrifice pass unrecorded !
The rules of the Catholic Church make scholars of her
priests — how severe the requirements are, Protestants perhaps do
not know. The candidate for holy orders spends years, never
less than five, and sometimes more than twelve, in hard study
after completing his collegiate course.
That is, after the youth intended for a secular career has
taken his diploma and bidden good-by to college halls, his
companion destined for the church has years of hard study
ahead of him. Before a young man can be admitted to holy
orders he must know Latin as a second mother-tongue — all
his studies in philosophy and theology are made in this lan-
guage — he must be conversant with Greek, and one or more of
the modern languages. Not infrequently he knows Hebrew
and Sanskrit, and many of the great languages of Europe.
Three years must be devoted to theology, and two to philoso-
phy, and, in the case of especially gifted students, often an
opportunity is afforded of pursuing a longer course. Nor is
the student permitted to begin his course in philosophy until
he has been thoroughly grounded in the regular collegiate
branches.
It is putting the term low to say that the average priest
at his ordination has spent seventeen years in hard study. It
is not an unheard-of proceeding for a Methodist or Baptist
minister to start out to preach the Gospel to more ignorant
rustics after a six months' study of the Scriptures and the life
of the founder of his sect, following a rudimentary course in
the public schools, and an examination before a board of men
perhaps more ignorant than the candidate.
Sometimes, not often, one meets a Catholic priest whose
manners and speech are not just what Chesterfield would call
polished ; but this is hardly surprising when one considers his
life among poor farmers or miners or cowboys, away from all
refining associations, and too poor to buy the books and peri-
odicals which might keep him in touch with the world of men
pulsating beyond the alkali plains or the rock-crowned moun-
tains.
In reading of these sparsely settled districts, with churches
and priests far away, one may be tempted to ask. But why do
Catholics go to these places ? Why don't they settle where
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314 Catholicity IN the West. [Dec,
there' is a Catholic population, and where a church and priest
can be supported in their own locality ? To answer these ques-
tions, even if one could, would really do no particular good,
for one must accept the fact as it is ; and the fact is, that Catho-
lics are scattered all through the Western States, a family
here, another ten miles away, and one church in an area of
perhaps forty miles. The beguiling immigration agent has
something to do with their presence, and the prospect of get-
ting land — land representing a great and very decided value to
the Eastern mind — for a few dollars an acre is alluring. And
the agent for these lands usually has a charming colony — on
paper — to show them: here is a lot set apart for a Catholic
church, there are so many acres for a school, or perhaps the
church is already built. It is not deemed necessary to say
that there is no Catholic priest to attend it, and no Catholic
congregation to support it, and that the sparrows are left to
build their nests in peace above its closed door. Again, the
optimistic temperament readily accepts church and school as
among the things that will speedily follow actual settlement,
and the adventurous element goes into an unknown country in
a spirit of daring, on a hazard of new fortunes.
This is, perhaps, a typical case of a pioneer:* A young girl,
a mere child of sixteen, brought up in a fairly well-to-do home,
in the degree of comfort represented by carpets on the floors,
some books, silver-plated spoons, and a step-mother, married
the nephew of a prosperous farmer, and spent the first months
of married life with the uncle. The young husband had saved
a few hundred dollars, and he thought that he would like a
farm of his own. The couple went to Oklahoma and bought
a claim from a man who had entered it and tired of it, and
thought themselves in great luck. They have their farm, but
they live in a log-cabin, the railroad is forty miles away, the
post-office six, and the nearest neighbor is two miles from them.
And they now have a baby — a baby son who may one day
represent his district in Congress, or appear at a friendly back
door begging for cold victuals. The vicissitudes of Western
life remind one of Monte Carlo — or would if one had ever been
there !
There is always the tendency, perhaps unconscious, to omit
the other side in describing anything in which one is inter-
ested. An ex-citizen of the great West was dilating on the
prosperity and the possibilities of that section of our country.
•* Why," said he, " corn is only a dime a bushel. People
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burn it for fuel ; it is actually cheaper than coal." When some
one asked him why he had left such a land of plenty — there
is usually some one around to spoil a good story with these
inconvenient questions — he answered, " Because • it is so ever-
lasting hard to get the dimes ! "
As every one knows, the great problem in the West is irri-
gation ; the one bar to prosperity, the lack of rain. Whether
this obstacle will ever be overcome scientists have not yet ven-
tured to say; but it is quite certain that for many years the
Western missionary will have a difficult struggle. And whilst
there is no Aladdin's lamp to smooth his way, there is the all-
potent magic of money. The people, outside of the large
towns and older settlements, are not able to support their
pastors ; for the greater proportion of them are poor, and
many of them are in actual want. Yet if the priests are taken
away it means the falling from the faith of the children of
Catholics and their children's children. Everywhere through
the West one meets with such names as Patrick Walsh,
Michael Conor, and Joseph Cummiskey, and their owners know
no more about the old church, the church of their fathers,
than do the John Wesley Smiths and the Luther Browns, their
neighbors and associates.
Catholics contribute generously and gladly to the support
of missionaries for heathens in foreign countries. Would they
not contribute just as gladly to the support of missionaries in
their own? Is the soul of a Chinaman more worthy of salva-
tion than the soul of an Irishman, or a German, or a Bohe-
mian, or even of a plain Yankee, who has sought to better his
fortunes in the great West? France has its society for the
propagation of the faith, and Americans contribute to it ; we
have a fund for negroes and Indians. Does any one imagine
that if there was a society for the support of the Western
missions* (one need not be particular about the name) Ameri-
can Catholics would let it lack for ample funds?
In addition to the work of giving spiritual succor to Catho-
lics, priests might be put in the field to teach our well-mean-
ing Protestant neighbors. The missions to non-Catholics so
successfully begun by the zealous Paulist Fathers in the East
might be multiplied with wonderful results in the West.
The venomous A. P. A. Society is doing its work with dia-
bolical success. Eastern Catholics may sometimes read in their
» Such a society is already organired. It is called The Catholic Missionary Union.
Its office is at lao West 6oth Street, New York.
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3i6 Catholicity IN the West. [Dec,
papers of the machinations of this organization, but it is only
in the West that one sees its aims in all their bald malignity.
The most ignorant and lurid sermons with which a dema-
gogue ever sought to inflame the hatred and prejudice of a
blinded, bigoted rabble in the old Know-nothing days are
matched, if not surpassed, in our own.
In cultured and enlightened communities in the East, even
where solidly Protestant, the Catholic clergy are respected
as Christian gentlemen, and Catholics are received and recog-
nized as Americans and Christians, and quite likely to be
charming people well worth knowing. In the West — it seems
very absurd to say it in this century of electricity and books
and university extension, when liberality and culture are our
shibboleth and shield — this Asinine Political Aggregation of
Orangemen and unnaturalized Americans, and their agents,
gravely formulate and scatter broadcast the most heinous
charges against Catholics. The public has been told at vari-
ous times that Catholic bishops had filled their cathedrals with
fire-arms, and that Catholics were to rise on a certain night
(usually the feast-day of a famous Jesuit is named) to massacre
their innocent, unprotected Protestant fellow-citizens. The
A. P. A, give credit to Catholics for being at least very brave,
for they are only one to ten in the contest. Ministers calling
themselves Christians stand up in their pulpits, and, in the
name of the God of truth, assert that Catholics pay for the
forgiveness of their sins, and that they can purchase a license
to break the whole decalogue provided their purses are ple-
thoric enough and their father-confessors not too high-priced
in their spiritual wares. Not long ago there was put in circu-
lation a formidable-looking document resembling parchment,
emblazoned with a flaming cross, a huge tiara, and a bunch of
keys (with which the Pope is supposed to open the gates of
heaven), and signed by the Christian names of the American
bishops, each name preceded by a cross, in which Catholics
were warned against the public schools, and commanded to
band together for the destruction of American liberties, etc.,
etc. It was supposed to be a Papal Bull which had acciden-
tally — and providentially — fallen into the hands of a true
American. Its author was really very imaginative, for the con-
tents and the style and the grammar were most original.
The effect can be conceived of such a devilish forgery on
the minds of an ignorant populace, already inflamed with lurid
visions of a foreign potentate, in the venerable person of our
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Pope, marching at the head of his legions to crush and kill
Protestants, and to revel in a carnival of crime, their license
tucked away securely in their pockets. •
We Catholics have been very patient under our load of
calumnies, but when abandoned and degraded wretches get up
before a public audience to vilify all that we hold dear, and
brand our priests and nuns as human demons, and are upheld
in their course in the name of free speech, we feel, to alter a
trite phrase, that patience is not the virtue suitable to the oc-
casion.
Even Protestants who are too enlightened to attribute to
us the horrors invented by the A. P. A. still regard us with a
sort of lofty pity as beings steeped in a childish belief, and
fettered by a slavish obedience to a mere man. We are not
one with them — and cannot be, because of our creed — in pro-
gress and sweetness and light !
It is doubtless known by this time, at least to every intelli-
gent Catholic, that each A. P. A. takes a solemn oath not to
employ Catholics if he can help it, not to vote for them, and
to do all that he can against their getting office or acquiring
any influence in the community. It is true that they try to
keep this oath secret, that they have changed the P from
Protestant to Protective, and that they publicly clothe their
phrases in a beguiling circumlocution, and prate of American
institutions and public schools; but their real aim, their real
venom, have been unmasked by fair-minded Protestants as well
as by Catholics. Dr. Washington Gladden exposed them fear-
lessly in the pages of the Century Magazine^ and copies of their
infamous oath — the oath which brands them as traitors to the
Constitution of the United States — have been long before the
public.
Among the difpculties which make thorny the path of the
Western missionary, this A. P. A. society is not the least.
To sum up the situation of the church in the West, we
have a vast region, sparsely settled ; Catholics few in numbers,
and living far apart ; few priests, and each priest with several
missions and a parish large in area, necessitating travel and
privations for himself, and inadequate spiritual ministrations for
the Catholic people ; poor little churches with the scantiest
supply of cheap vestments, loaded with debt, and a mortgage
hanging like a veritable sword of Damocles over the pastor's
head. Children are growing up, and they must have schools ;
orphans are homeless, and asylums are required ; people fall
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3i8 Catholicity IN the West. [Dec.
ill, and hospitals are needed. The State may step in with ap-
propriations for non-sectarian institutions — non-sectarian can
usually be translated " anti-Catholic " — but an institution in
charge of sisters cannot be helped because it is sectarian,
although it is expected, quite as a matter of course, that these
same sisters receive into their hospitals and asylums the sick
and the poor without question of creed or compensation. And,
lastly, like a poisonous fungus spreading over the land and
killing out the growth of life-giving plants, is the A. P. A.
Who will be the St. Vincent de Paul of needy souls, and
crown the passing century with commensurate aid to the organ-
ized society for the help of the Western missions ?
Another little problem in arithmetic will show that if one
Catholic out of every twelve in the United States will con-
tribute annually twenty-five cents, or one out of every forty-
eight one dollar, there would be a fund of a quarter of a
million of dollars, and this sum distributed among the twenty-
three dioceses of the West, in proportion to their needs,
would — but who can foretell, even in words, the wonderful
work it would do ?
The men are not wanting, the tried soldiers are in the field.
Wc can safely leave to future generations the task of writing
their biographies and giving them stones — let us, their contem-
poraries, give them bread.
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The Indian Girl's first Lesson : A Glimpse of the Ro.cky Mountain Mission.
LEAVES FROM THE ANNALS OF THE URSULINES.
BY LYDIA STERLING FLINTHAM.
COUNTRY'S greatest pride should be its women.
To standing armies it may point with exultation,
but each and every man along the ranks is but
the embodiment of woman's prerogative to rule
- the destinies of nations. The statesman on the
rostrum, sending forth in glowing accents the words destined,
perhaps, to wake a slumbering people, has heard at a wo-
man's knee the first sweet lessons of patriotism and devotion
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320 Lea ves from the Annals of the Ursulines. [Dec,
to right. Thus the world looks to woman for ail that is no-
blest, and it has been rightly said that though man educates
the people, yet woman educates man.
Considered in her various relations as maiden or matron, or
in her holier capacity of the self-sacrificing religious, woman
has ever been an object of interest, and the story of her vary-
ing missions never fails to rouse the attention of the most in-
different. In her work as the nun we shall consider her to-day,
and particularly as a member of the vast body of Ursulines
— that great society which in the old world was the first to
bind itself by vow to the instruction of young girls, the first to
cross the seas and, in the new world, to hold out its hand to the
down-trodden Indian, and, tearing aside the veil of ignorance,
show him the path to knowledge and morality.
In 1535 St. Angela Merici, an Italian lady of noble extrac-
tion, founded at Brescia the Ursuline Order for the instruction
of young girls, placing it under the protection of St. Ursula,
virgin and martyr. Until St. Angela's time no religious oider
had existed founded for this end. To her, therefore, belongs
the honor of having first traced out to woman the career of
the apostleship.
The widespread Influence and personal magnetism which
had already won for St. Angela the titles of " Holy Maiden "
and '* Little Saint of Paradise," enabled her to gather the fair-
est flowers among the Brescian maidens. With twelve of
these she began the work for which she had longed, and the
rapid spread of the order through Italy, and into Germany
and France, testifies to its immediate and increasing popularity.
Ursulines observe the cloister, and each house is indepen-
dent of the other upon its secure establishment. In some
cases, when necessity requires, the cloister can be dispensed
with. Thus the plastic character of the order accommodates
itself to all countries and all times. In France, the house of
Paris furnished the examples of highest perfection. Its mem-
bers added to the three usual vows of religious, a fourth — ihe
instruction of young girls. From it sprang Boulogne-sur-mer,
which has given to our own country so many of her zealous
members.
Not in Eur »pe alone do the Ursulines claim the privilege
of being pioneers of the modern education of woman, but they
were the first to plant the germ in America.
During the reign of Louis XIV. Mother Mary of .*
Incarnation, whose name is spoken with reverence by every
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1897-] J-^^ ^^s FROM THE Annals of the Ursulines. 321
Ursuline, crossed the Atlantic in 1639, just nineteen years after
the Mayflower had touched our shores — and began in Quebec
the instruction of the French settlers and the Indians.
A coincidence lies in the fact that in 1638, when Rev. John
Convent and Academy at Dallas, Texas.
Harvard, in the infant colony of Massachusetts, endowed the
institution which is New England's pride, Mother Mary
was cherishing in her convent at Tours the project of educat-
ing the French colonists. So we may consider Harvard and the
Ursuline schools of Quebec as contemporary, as well as the
first institutions of learning on the continent, north of Mexico.
The first task of the new arrivals in Quebec was to learn the
Indian dialects. This they did with such success that in two
months they were enabled to teach the natives in their own tongue.
Under a spreading ash-tree, tradition relates, Mary of the
Incarnation sat, day after day, teaching the Indian children.
When small-pox broke out in the colony, she gathered into
their humble convent the sick and dying, and cared for them
with the tenderness of a mother.
The Ursulines had chosen a favorable moment to enter
Canada. The field in which the missionaries had long labored,
with little success, began now to yield fruit. But their diffi-
culties were many, their expenses great. Not only the Indian
children, but often their families, had to be clothed and fed
gratis ; not only must the " bread of instruction be broken,"
but the food of the body as well. It would have been an in-
sult, according to Indian ideas of hospitality, not to have
offered food to their guests, so it happened that the " pot of
jigamite *' rarely left the fire. Five Ursulines to attend to
these calls of both body and spirit were few indeed, and the
VOL. LXVI.— 21
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322 Leaves from the Annals of the Ursulines, [Dec,
demands on the larder were continually increasing. But, as
Mother Mary remarked, *' the pot of sagamite was never empty."
We may imagine the task of taming the graceful gazelles of
the forest — the wild Indian maiden, to whom brush and comb
were hitherto unknown, whose bed was the ground, and whose
feet knew covering only in winter! But the gentle Ursulines
won the hearts of the dusky children, and conquered through
them the rough warriors of the forest.
Mother Mary ranks among America's heroines, and by the
Indians she was regarded as an angel. Her great heart has
left its influence upon succeeding generations of religious, and
the sisterly spirit of the Ursulines displayed itself to those of
New Orleans in an hour of need, and threw open their doors
to the inmates of the Charlestown convent, destroyed by a
fanatical mob in 1839.
The second foundation of Ursulines on the Western continent,
and the first in the United States, was at New Orleans, in 1727.
De Bienville, governor of the Louisiana colony, understand-
ing the needs of his people, endeavored to obtain religious
teachers for their children. Placing the cause in the hands of
Father de Beaubois, S.J., superior of the Jesuit missions,
he ere long beheld the happy consummation of his hopes.
Father de Beaubois journeyed to France, where he obtained
from the Ursulines of Rouen a community of ten professed
religious, headed by Mother St. Augustin Tranchepain. There
was also a novice, who had the honor of being the first reli-
gious to pronounce sacred vows in the United States. The
project was placed under the auspices of Louis XV., who is-
sued an edict in their favor. The voyage was long and tedi-
ous and beset with many perils, so that it was fully six
months ere the zealous nuns beheld their destination.
Their arrival was hailed with gladness, and as soon as
practicable they began their labors, instructing rich and poor,
whites, Indians, and negroes. After the Natchez Massacre, the
poor orphans thus left desolate were warmly welcomed by
the gentle Ursulines, and one of the community dying, and
two having returned to France, the many duties fell heavily
upon the seven religious left at the convent. Yet, in spite of
all, they never regretted their native land, and their unfailing
zeal won all hearts.
An Indian chief who came to offer sympathy to the French
after the massacre remarked, upon seeing some of the nuns
with a group of orphans : '* You are like the Black Robes ; you
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UN THE THRESHOLD OF LIFE : GRADUATES OF THE I'lTTSBURG ACADEMY.
work for others ! Oh, if we had two or three of you yonder,
our women would have more sense ! "
Most of the ladies of the colony were educated by the
Ursulines, whilst girls of humbler rank crowded their day-
schools. Their evenings and Sundays were devoted to instruct-
ing Indian and negro women and girls. Later these noble wo-
men received under their protection large numbers of the ex-
iled women and children of the unhappy Acadians.
The great regard in which the nuns were held by both
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France and Spain is testified by numerous writings from the
authorities of those countries, whilst there are also in their
possession letters from our early and most popular presidents,
expressive of the highest esteem.
The retrocession of Louisiana to France caused consterna-
tion in the community, some of whom, fearing a repetition of the
horrors of the French Revolution, favored selling their property
and founding a convent in Havana. In this they were fortu-
nately opposed by Very Rev. Thomas Hassett, who encour-
aged the less timid in their resolution of remaining. Some,
however, could not be induced to stay, and sixteen sisters, in-
cluding the superior, left for Havana, where they founded the
convent which still exists. The arrival of other sisters from
France served to revive the drooping spirits of those remain-
ing, who had continued their labors as before.
Keeping ever in touch with the times, the Ursulines of
New Orleans bear to-day the same reputation as teachers that
they enjoyed in early days. At the World's Fair the committees
of judges, both Catholic and secular, awarded their schools diplomas
for art, class, and needle-work, and for French and fancy work.
A few years ago the sisters mourned the death of Mother
Augustine O'Keefe, who spent many years in the community.
She was one of those unfortunate Ursulines who was turned
out in the night with her sisters and helpless charges from
their peaceful convent in Charlestown, Mass., and beheld their
home burn to ashes beneath the flames, not more greedy than
the fanatical mob which started them. A book is extant, en-
titled The Burning of the Convent^ which Mother Augustine
(known as Mother Austin before her transfer to New Orleans)
declared to be a series of falsehoods. Her own account, which is
common history in the New Orleans community, is a thrilling one.
These ruthless fanatics, with the cry of " Down with the
Pope ! Down with the convent ! " on their lips, spared no
one — not the helples3 living, not the dead in the coffins, whose
bones they scattered to the winds ! The sisters, dreading sac-
rilege to the Lord of Hosts, lifted the movable tabernacle,
and hurrying into the garden deposited it in a bed of aspara-
gus which had run to seed. Their efforts were fruitless, as it
was discovered by the miscreants, one of whom pocketed the
sacred species. As he entered his home, however, he fell dead
on the very threshold. A swift judgment indeed!
To the Ursulines of New Orleans belongs the honor of in-
stituting the devotion to Our Lady of Prompt Succor, now
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devoutly practised by the people of Louisiana, who attribute
many blessings to her intercession.
From the venerable institution of New Orleans sprang the
famous St. Ursula's in Galveston, Texas. She has reached the
Present Convent and Academy at Columbia, S. C, and Ruins of Convent burned
Bv Federal Troops.
" Golden Milestone," but wears on her brow no trace of the
struggles which marked her infant existence. To the wise ad-
ministration of Mother St. Pierre the school owes its secure
establishment on the road to success. The Civil War, which
checked for a time its progress, could not hinder its advance-
ment, once the conflict was over. In 1861 its class-rooms, that
echoed to the sounds of girlish laughter, were converted into
hospital wards, and sick and dying soldiers were nursed with
tender charity, irrespective of creed, nationality, race, or party.
In grateful memory of these services to God and country,
the cloistered portals of the Ursuline Convent are thrown open
twice each year to delegates commissioned, respectively, by the
Confederates and G. A. R., to decorate the humble grave
wherein rest the mortal remains of Mother St. Pierre, the
"Soldier's Friend and Ministering Angel."
The academy is empowered to confer diplomas and degrees.
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326 Lea ves from the Annals of the Ursulines. [Dec,
and of the efficiency of its teachers many a bright home affords
unquestionable testimony. Situated near the beach, it is one
of the most imposing school edifices in the Union, and, with
its splendid galleries and towering spires, reminds one of the
baronial castles of Europe.
At the instigation of Bishop Dubois, of Galveston, a branch
of these Ursulines was planted in Dallas, Texas, and the little
band beheld as their first abode a dwelling 12x20 feet in
dimensions !
Half amused, the sisters wondered what they were to do
with their pupils. With only their talents and *a system of
training that has withstood the test of centuries, united to the
ready tact which could adapt itself to the needs of a new
country, they bravely set their brains and hands to work to de-
vise ways and means to prosecute their mission.
From the first the sisters met with a cordial sympathy from
the people of Dallas, and this bond has grown with the growth
of the place into an identification of interests. From seven pu-
pils in the February term the number grew to fifty before its
close, and since that every scholastic year has shown an im-
provement on the last.
Among the noble women who stand out in bold relief as
founders of Ursuline convents in this country, the name of
Mother Julia Chatfield is prominent. In 1845, under the pro-
tection of the Right Rev. John Baptist Purcell, D.D., of Cin-
cinnati, she founded the famous Academy of St. Martin's, Ohio.
To Father Machebceuf, the zealous pastor of several counties in
Ohio, is due the immediate foundation of the order in that State.
A visit to Europe was necessary to settle important busi-
ness there, and he was commissioned by his bishop to obtain
religious from Europe to open an academy in his diocese.
Two fine locations for such an institution had lately been donated.
Father Rappe, then pastor of Toledo, who was to act as
substitute in Father Machebceuf 's absence, gave to the latter
letters to Mother St. Ursula, superior of the Ursulines in Bou-
logne-sur-mer, where he had for several years been chaplain.
To this superior Father Machebceuf, as soon as possible,
made his application.
Meanwhile, in Beaulieu, there had been re-established since
the Revolution a house of the Ursulines, which, however, met
with such reverses that, saddened and discouraged, its members
were upon the point of disbanding. But God had other de-
signs for them. The superior heard through friends of Father
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1 897-] Lea ves from the Annals of the Ursulines. 327
Macheboeuf that he was negotiating for sisters from Boulogne-
sur-mer. She wrote to the mother in Boulogne, asking that
several sisters from her convent might be permitted to join
those from Boulogne in their new venture. Whilst this corre-
CONVENT AND ACADEMY, CLEVELAND, O.
spondence was progressing, Father Macheboeuf in person visited
Beaulieu, and after a conference with the superior, proceeded
to obtain the bishop's consent to their departure. But the rela-
tives and friends of the sisters, learning of their intention,
rose in arms, and the convent was thronged with relatives and
former pupils, who implored them, tearfully, not to leave.
Others, more importunate, had recourse to the civil law, and
one morning the sisters found before their doors the mayor
and the municipal council, who, upon being courteously invited
to enter, earnestly endeavored to shake their resolution.
At the height of these grievous trials a letter from Bou-
logne came like a ray of sunlight into their troubled hearts.
It stated that Mother Julia Chatfield would join them as
superior and, with a novice and a young postulant, would ac-
company them to their new field of labor in the West.
How to get certain sisters out of the city without rousing
too much feeling on the part of their relatives, was a problem
that next engaged their attention.
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328 Lea ves from the Annals of the Ursulines. [Dec,
A novel solution was found. Knowing that Mother Stanis-
laus* family would strenuously oppose her going, it was arranged
that she and a lay sister should steal away at night disguised
as market-women, and, proceeding on foot to St. C^re, pass the
night with an aunt of one of the nuns, who was in the plot —
thence to Paris, where the others, leaving a week later, would
meet them. Then journeying to Havre, they would join the
three from Boulogne. Accordingly, with dress retrouss/^ as was
the custom, her feet encased in sabots — now preserved as a
relic of this historic episode — Mother Stanislaus set forth on
foot to St. Cfere accompanied by the lay sister.
Their amusing yet trying adventures whilst assuming this
strange attire are quaintly set forth in a beautiful volume,
Fifty Years in Brown County Convent^ which was published by
these Ursulines in commemoration of their golden jubilee.
Who can fathom the emotions of these zealous religious,
who, as they set sail from Havre, severed with one stroke the
ties of friends and country ? With faces turned towards the
land of promise, they mourned not for the things of the past,
but "reached out their hands to the things which were to
come." Every detail of that perilous voyage is set down in the
volume mentioned above, and we may follow them step by
step in their tedious journey from New York to Cincinnati, and
thence to St. Martin's, Brown County. Arriving at the lat-
ter place late one night, they were entertained by the genial
Fathers Cheymol and Gacon, whose generous devotion to the
community later won undying gratitude. After supper they
were domiciled in a little out-building used by two domestics.
Finding neither locks nor bolts to the door, they proceeded,
woman-like, to form a barricade of the beds and washstand.
In the night they were aroused by heavy footfalls, and most
peculiar sounds. Visions of wild Western Indians rushed into
their minds ! But the sound of familiar voices stilled their ter-
ror, and later they discovered that the savages they had pic-
tured were the horses that, breaking from the stable, had wan-
dered into the passage of their dwelling!
These circumstances were not calculated to happily impress
the beauties of Western life upon these polished European
ladies, but they who had broken the ties of friends and home
were not to be daunted by even greater trials, and with cheer-
ful hearts they began the foundation of their new abode.
Brown County Convent ! The pen loves to linger upon the
pages which tell its history. So widely is it now known, that
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i897-] Lea ves from the Annals of the Ursulines. 329
Brown County and the Ursuline Convent at St. Martin's, Ohio,
have become synonymous terms. " Brown County ** has gath-
ered her pupils from nearly every State in the Union and be-
yond seas. Hundreds of Christian wives and mothers are dis-
seminating the seeds of the fruit of Brown County training,
whilst, hidden away
in various convents,
she is proud to num-
ber Ursulines, Car-
melites, Ladies of
the Sacred Heart,
Visitandines, Bene-
dictines, Domini-
cans, Sisters of
Mercy, of the^Good
Shepherd, of Chari-
ty, and of St. Joseph,
all working for the /
one end — God's /
greater glory. How /
many women whose j •
names are household
words, whose songs
ring unending echoes
in the hearts of men,
whose pens have
been wielded in the ^^ ^^^ r,^„^^^ gilmour, d.d.
cause of truth and
justice, look back upon their happy school days at Brown
County Convent ! And never was theme sweeter or dearer than
that which recorded the praises of such an Alma Mater !
With smiles over which arises the mist of teaj-s they re-
call the beloved foundresses, Mother Julia and Mother Stan-
islaus, called by the loving titles of Notre Mtre and Ma M^re.
Of these two no praise could be an exaggeration. The holi-
ness of their lives, the result of their patient labors, are in-
scribed in enduring characters on the convent walls, and are
written on the souls of Brown County's many children.
Last summer the Brown County Institute held its annual
meeting near St. Martin's. Besides being called upon to show
their building and entertain bands of from four to twenty, the
sisters invited all the teachers and their friends to spend a
half day at the convent. Numbers of them had never come in
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330 Lea ves from the Annals of the Ursulines. [Dec,
contact with Catholics, not to speak of being in total ignorance
of the religious life, and their visit was like a ray of sunlight
dispelling the gloom of prejudice.
A worthy daughter of " Old Brown County " is the flourish-
ing Academy of St. Ursula's, in Santa Rosa, CaL, which since
its establishment in 1880 has claimed an increasing patronage.
Apart from the academy, the sisters also conduct many of the
city's parochial schools.
Another is the Ursuline Academy in Columbia, S. C, which
was founded under the auspices of Right Rev. P. N. Lynch, by
six nuns from Brown County, with the bishop's sister as superior.
From its beginning their foundation flourished, though trials
were not wanting to test their virtues and to increase their merits.
Some miscreants, resenting the appearance of nuns in the
city, began a series of petty persecutions, such as hurling stones
at the windows, shouting opprobrious epithets, and on one oc-
casion firing a pistol-shot into the house — presumably at a sta-
tue of Our Lady. Though the shot narrowly missed the mo-
ther superior, yet the only damage done was the shattering of
the window-pane and the shooting off of the shooter's thumb!
The sisters finally appealed for protection to the mayor, who
placed a guard around the convent, and at one time even acted
as patrol himself. This state of affairs roused the righteous
indignation of the best Protestant gentlemen of Columbia, who
called a meeting and put to shame the rioters, who " returned
to their homes so quietly as not to disturb the nuns by their
footfalls."
But their peace was now disturbed by the strife of Civil
War, and the closing year of the struggle marked the darkest
hour in the history of these devoted nuns. Their convent and
academy were pillaged and destroyed by the Federal troops
under General Sherman, in spite of the positive promise of
protection given by the commanding general. On the night
of February 17, 1865, the pitying people of Columbia beheld
a sad spectacle on their streets — a procession of cloistered
nuns, together with their pupils, leaving their loved convent
to the flames, and themselves . seeking safety in the Catholic
church.yard, where they remained all night. A temporary asy-
lum was found for them at the Methodist College, which had
lately been used as a Confederate hospital.
The nuns lost, at one fell blow, everything they possessed.
Yet no feeling of revenge entered their hearts ; instead it re-
mained a custom for twenty years after to offer a general Corn-
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1897.] Lea ves from the Annals of the Ursulines, 331
Class of 1897, Tiffin, Ohio.
munion on the anniversary of the firing for those who had
shared in that wicked deed. Thus do God's chosen ones re-
venge their wrongs!
The Ursulines remained several months at the college, dur-
ing which time they endeavored as far as possible to carry on
the work to which they were vowed — teaching their pupils
orally and from any chance books they found at the college.
There followed five wretched months of privation, during
which time one of the sisters succumbed to the exposure and
poor fare and died — "a victim of circumstances." At the end
of that time a home was provided for them on a farm belong-
ing to Bishop Lynch, t^iree miles from the city.
Dark days followed ; but finally brighter ones dawned, and
the labors of the Ursulines have been crowned by the posses-
sion of a handsome convent and academy, situated in a beauti-
ful section of Columbia, and where many of America's best and
noblest women have been trained.
The Ursulines of Cleveland boast of the oldest Catholic insti-
tution of learning in that diocese. It was founded in 1850 by
Bishop Rappe, and the nuns came, like those of Brown County,
from Boulogne-sur-mer. To-day Cleveland is a city of magnifi-
cence, but on that far-away August day the eyes of those gen-
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tie strangers fell upon a comparative wilderness. Undaunted,
however, they set to work and in a short time opened day,
boarding, and parochial schools, all on the grounds of the small
domain they had purchased. So marked was their success that
very soon these daughters of St. Angela perceived that there
was no more room for the little ones of the parochial schools.
Then new schools were built upon the convent grounds. It
was not long, however, before these too were more than
crowded, and in 1853 Bishop Rappe was obliged to obtain
from Rome permission for the Ursulines to go out to the differ-
ent parts of the city and take charge of the parochial schools.
When, in the days of St. Charles Borromeo, the Ursulines
of Milan threw open their cloistered doors, and going forth
cared for the plague-stricken inhabitants, that deed was written
in golden letters upon the pages of history. Can we not draw
a parallel between those and the nuns of Cleveland who, at
duty's call, leave their cherished cloister and go forth like those
of old — not to nurse the physically sick indeed, but to crush
the poisonous germs of vice and ignorance and to sow those
of piety and knowledge?
In 1872 the academy became a collegiate institute. The
course of learning comprises the preparatory and collegiate,
and many successful teathers in Cleveland and elsewhere who
are graduates of this institution testify to its educational worth.
Feeling the need of even greater space, it was deemed ad-
visable to purchase a property near Nottingham for a board-
ing school. This they named Villa Angela, and it was not a
new foundation, but merely a separation of the boarding and
day schools. The same courses of study are adhered to as in
Cleveland; in both places not only are the fine arts and the
sciences carefully inculcated, but great attention is paid to
those " homely duties " which often make or mar the comfort
of a household. Each year a gold medal for domestic economy
is awarded to the young lady who excels in the household arts.
At Villa Angela the nuns, kneeling in their peaceful chapel
and looking out over the waters of Lake Erie which lap the
shores of the domain, must be reminded of their beautiful
Boulogne-sur-mer, which they left long years ago. Surely that
mother's benediction has tarried with them !
The Ursuline Convent in Cleveland established new founda-
tions in Toledo and in Tiffin, Ohio.
The former was begun in 1854 by a colony of five religious,
and more closely identified with the early history of Toled®
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1897.] Lea ves from the Annals of the Ursulines. 333
Ursuline Academy, Winebiddle Ave., E. E., Pittsburg, Pa.
than any other institution is the Ursuline Convent of the Sacred
Heart. It is now passing the twenty-fifth year of its existence
as an incorporated college. Its curriculum embraces a thorough
classical course, the graduates in which receive a diploma and
the degree of bachelor of arts, and the commercial course,
which is completed in two years, and includes book-keeping,
stenography, type-writing, etc. The latter has been taken by
a large number of young ladies who now fill responsible and
lucrative positions as secretaries, book-keepers, stenographers,
and other places of trust in Toledo and elsewhere. The student
in this course receives a commercial certificate and the degree
of master of accounts.
The kindergarten department is also a feature, and its con-
tribution to the World's Fair was especially noted. Object-
teaching was explained by illustration. Thus, the figure of a
miss with a skipping-rope executed in water-colors, and ac-
companying ones of the hemp, cotton, and flax plants, with
those of a cow and a sheep, told in unmistakable words of the
origin of the rope, linen, cloth, leather, and wool of which the
clothing was made.
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The students of the different grades contributed to the
same exhibition several elegantly bound volumes showing the
regular class-work. The title-pages were handsomely illuminated
by exquisite designs of flowers, mottoes, etc., done in water-
colors, India-ink, and in etchings. The literary work comprised
poems, essays, and papers of the highest merit, whilst the
altar linens, china, and oil painting will not soon be forgotten
by those who saw them.
The handsome prospectus of the Toledo Academy is issued
from the sisters' own press, and at the recent alumnae reunion
each guest was presented with a dainty card of ivory and
silver from the same source.
As publishers, indeed, the Ursulines have much to be proud
of, if we may be permitted to use such an expression in their
regard. The beautiful volume recently published, descriptive of
the work of women at the World's Fair, was compiled by the
Ursulines. Brown County Convent has issued two handsome
books, Fifty Years in Brown County Convent and Golden Jubilee
of Brown County, Who has not read the Ursuline Manual^ with
its rich combination of prayer, meditation, and instruction ?
Six religious from Cleveland began the foundation at Tiffin,
Ohio. As the unfamiliar figures passed through the streets
some one exclaimed: "They are Catholic nuns." Little did
the people think that their prejudice would thaw under the in-
fluence of those same nuns, nor could they foresee how, in
after years, one of their ministers would sacrifice his pastorate
in a neighboring town rather than yield to his parishioners
by withdrawing his daughter from the Ursuline Academy of
Tiffin, where she was a pupil.
When the same bigotry, in the guise of A.-P.-A.-ism, showed
itself in the presence of one of Tiffin's most prominent mer-
chants, he met it with the rebuke : *' Yes, my clerks are Catho-
lics, and we all feel better for it. My daughters were edu-
cated by the Ursulines, and if I had a dozen they should go
nowhere else."
Even before the academy began to confer collegiate honors,
the superintendents of the public schools were eager to select
teachers from its graduates. Some of these now lead their pro-
fession without being obliged to show either diploma or certificate.
In 1855 the Ursulines came to New York, and have con-
ducted flourishing schools in the Archdiocese of New York ever
since. Their institutions at Bedford Park and New Rochelle
are doing their share in the educational work of New York.
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i897-] -^^^ v^^ FROM THE Annals of the Ursulines. 335
The daughters of St. An-
gela are also located in Pitts-
burg, Pa., whence they came
in 1870 from Havre, France,
at the breaking out of the
Franco-Prussian war. Bi-
shop Domenec kindly re-
ceived them, and their pre-
sent academy on Wincbiddle
Avenue occupies one of the
most beautiful locations in
the eastern section. Like
so many mstitutions con- a
ducted by the Ursulines, it S'
has been granted all the ^
rights of a college, and num- c:
bers of Pittsburg's most c
prominent and wealthy citi- 5
zens send their daughters s:
here, realizing the value of
r
o
<
that training which educates >
both mind and heart. They "
are taught to be not " fash- »
H
S
n
ion's gilded ladies, but s
brave, whole-soul, true wo- jc
men,'' elegant ornaments of p
society indeed, but jewels ^
of the home circle as well. §
a;
They are urged not to court t
publicity, but to " let their *
light shine before men " by g
good example and the prac- |
tice of those virtues which
make a woman what God
intended her to be — " but a
little lower than the angels."
The Ursuline Order is
rightly noted for its mother-
ly spirit, for deeply does'it
drink of that great fountain
of love gushing from the
heart of their mother, St.
Angela. And whilst they
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336 Lea ves from the Annals of the Ursulines. [Dec,
look with kindly, affectionate eyes upon the countless other
sisterhoods since founded to work in God's field, they yet glory
in the distinction of being the first to break the furrow.
From stately buildings, where children of wealth enjoy every
convenience that modern progress knows, we turn to a spot in
Montana where women of this same noble order are working
for the little ones of those who first trod our soil — the true
Americans — the down-trodden Indian, who, like Ishmael of old,
feels that " his hand is against every man, and every man's
hand against him."
Tell me, wise statesman, noble philanthropist, have you
solved the Indian question yet? No! But out there, among
hardships impossible to picture, devoted women are solving it
for you !
In the beautiful Yellowstone Valley, Miles City lies sweet
and smiling among its swelling hills and rolling plains. Often
has the iron horse puffed into the busy '* cow-boy " city in
quest of the black diamonds from the mountain side, but on
a certain day in January, 1884, it bore a more precious freight
than its accustomed one ; nor was the wealth «of the moun-
tains its goal. It carried a tiny band of apostolic women —
Ursulines from Toledo, who had come to face with unwavering
faith and courage the contrast between the old life and the
new. Behind them the peaceful seclusion of convent silence ;
before them — what? Only God could tell. At the bidding of
two noted prelates, the late Bishop Gilmour of Cleveland and
Bishop Brondel of Montana, they had prepared to face all the
labor and poverty of a mission in the far West, and now went
forward like children leaning on a father's arm.
From his episcopal city, Helena, four hundred miles dis-
tant, Bishop Brondel had come to meet them. For years had
this man of God labored among the abandoned Indian tribes
and had given -an example of self-sacrifice so sublime as to
defy all words of praise. That day there stood by his side
Father Lindesmith, chaplain at Fort Keogh, the great ** Rus-
tler," with whom right and rule were law and patriotism next
to fidelity to God.
We read the records of the Ursulines in the far West with
mingled smiles and tears.
The first night they were installed in the log-cabin of Mrs.
McCama, a lodging-house for ranchmen and cow-boys ! The
next day their first thought was to secure a little home of their
own. This they did, but at what a sacrifice ! Father Linde--
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i897«] -^^-^ ^^^ FROM THE Annals of the Ursulines. 337
smith was absent, and the strange shyness of Miles City Catho-
lies left them entirely unaided. Alone they trod the streets,
seeking a house — alone they sought the plumber, the tinsmith,
the coal-dealer, and grocer. No one came to assist them, and
Teachers and Pupils at St. Peter's Mission, (i) Rev. Mother Amadeus.
(2) Sister St. Ignatius. (3) Sister St. Thomas.
they spent the day in the roughest household labor, and when
at last with frozen hands they succeeded in building a fire,
they left their toil to watch the smoke that went curling up
from the first Ursuline Convent in the Rocky Mountains.
Where volumes might be written, it is difficult to condense
within present limits the story of the trying labors and destitu-
tion of those weary days.
Father Lindesmith, with characteristic humor, had written
to Toledo that "there was no use coining to Montana unless
they could rustle,*' and they did not disappoint his hopes.
The various missions were opened in the following order:
Miles City, St. Labre's, St. Peter's Mission, novitiate and mother
house, in 1884; St. Paul's and St. Xavier's, 1887; St. Ignatius*
and Holy Family, 1890; St. Charles' and St. Berchman's, 1892.
At all of these are taught various tribes of Indians. Until
July, 1896, the sisters received insuflficient but regular support
from the government. Now, the mission schools still receive
VOL. Lxvi.— 22
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338 Lea ves from the Annals of the Ursulines. [Dec,
forty per cent, of their contracts for 1895, but the supply has
been entirely cut off from St. Peter's, where there are the
mother house, novitiate, and a hundred Indian girls. Around
this mother house the sisters' tenderest memories dwell. For
seven years St. Peter's consisted of a row of log-cabins con-
nected by a porch. One snowy day the ranchers sought the
nuns in vain. They were buried in snow and had to cut their
way out with axes into the daylight. Day after day the sisters
lighted, the lamps at ten in the morning, because the snow
had curtained off the windows, and the most convenient way
they found of going from the back of the house to the front
was to cross the roof on the huge snow-drifts. When the snow
melted in the spring and the summer rains came on, then their
sufferings were greatest, for the poor little roof leaked, and the
sister who did the cooking often waded knee-deep in water
to get the meals, and was compelled to fasten an umbrella
over the frying-pan !
In the winter of '90 the sisters sheltered a thousand children.
Last winter many were exposed in their camps to frightful
sickness and hunger. Yhis was the fate of the little ones.
But the larger girls — ah ! their guardian angels alone knew their
misery I These poor children flock to the sisters. They wash,
comb, clothe, feed, shelter, educate them, and they have not
a cent on earth save what comes to them in sweet Charity's
hand. Oh ! you whom God has blessed with abundance, and in
whose heart he has poured the oil of his charity, turn to those
noble women whose pleading voices are lifted in behalf of the
outcast Indians. Your charity may^ save countless souls, and
hedge around with banks of lilies the endangered innocence of
the Indian girl !
One word about Mother Amadeus, foundress and superior-
general of the Ursuline missions — a woman of magnetic power,
whose labors and privations stamp her face with that indescrib-
able charm which recalls the poet's lines :
** If an artist paint her, he would paint her, unaware.
With a halo round her hair."
Once when Mother Amadeus was on her way to the Crow
Mission she was caught in a huge snow-drift. The sleigh could
not cut through, and she and her companion lay in the snow all
night when the thermometer registered forty degrees below zero.
Again, she and three companions w^re nearly an hour in the
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1 897-] Lea ves from the Annals of the Ursulines. 359
frozen waters of Blue Creek. A cloud-burst had dug the bed
of the stream, and the horses, mistaking the ford, stood motion-
less on the chasm's verge. The driver fainted in horror, and
Mother alone guided the terrified animals until help came.
At another
time this remark-
able woman was
beset by a pack
of wolves. Kneel-
ing down, she re-
cited the " Memo-
rare/' and the
hungry fiends
swooped around
the mountain side
and left the nuns
safe.
But they con-
sider none of
these perils like
unto the one which
threatens them
now. Penniless,
unaided, is it not
with the faith that
works miracles
that they throw
open their doors
to the thronging
Indian children,
and invite them
to the arms which,
alas! may soon drop powerless at the side? Oh! that the
day may soon dawn when they who make the laws in our
beloved land may lay aside the bigotry and hatred which too
often curse our legislation, and right these wrongs. May they
come to understand the great heart of 'the self-immolating Ur-
suline, who labors against every drawback for the unhappy sav-
age, and who teaches him through his children to be a Chris-
tian and a true citizen !
Walzinthia : an Indian Girl of St. Peter's Mission, as
presented to princess eulalie.
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340 Books Triumphant and Books Militant. [Dec,
BOOKS TRIUMPHANT AND BOOKS MILITANT.
BY CARINA B. C. EAGLESFIELD.
HERE seem as many ways of dividing literature
as there are departments in it, and it may ap-
pear superfluous to suggest another ; but, if we
look beyond the mere contents of books, be-
yond the dividing lines which separate poetry
from prose, science from fiction, etc., etc., we may discover
that literature naturally divides itself into two classes and per-
forms two distinct offices. In the one class are the books
we cannot live without, and in the other the books we can
dispense with, I have chosen to call the first " books tri-
umphant ** and the second *' books militant," and the develop-
ment of this paper will, I trust, make my idea plain.
These divisions may, and often do, blend into each other,
yet each is, after all, distinct and independent of the other.
A triumphant book is a book of power — an immortal book;
and a book militant, which word seems not so plain, is one of
knowledge, of use, a provisional work, a book on trial and
sufferance. It may be compared to a soldier, for it marches
in and takes its place upon the stage of life, like a soldier on
duty. Fighting its way for existence, with colors gaily flying,
it is used by the powers that, be, and then, when the battle is
over and we have gleaned from it all we need of knowledge or
pleasure, it marches out again, not so boldly and confidently,
perchance, as it came in.
New discoveries in the scientific world make the book of
use old in ten years, new fashions in novels make us smile at
the books our grandmo^ers wept over, and new schools of
poetry make us yawn over the poems our grandfathers declared
perfect of their kind. The fight of the book militant is over,
its mission ended ; we build upon the foundations once deemed
ultimate new facts, new theories, and these in turn pass out
into oblivion and decay. But a book triumphant knows neither
decay nor death, as long as the language exists in which it
speaks. To amend or revise a militant book is a praiseworthy
thing. The living power in the book is bound to remain, while
the form or teachable facts are ever being re-clothed in new
and more acceptable garments. But to attempt to vary or
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I897-] Books Triumphant and Books Militant. 341
improve a book triumphant is to plagiarize. The soul of the
work is incarnated, and to dissever it from the lovely body
would be to mutilate. The difference between a mortal and an
immortal book is as deep as life, for in the one we have life
embodied, in the other kaleidoscopic pictures, perhaps lacking
in every vital quality, or a presentation of long strings of mere
working facts and theories. An immortal book is the soul of
the man looking forth from its illumined pages ; and as no two
men ever read the open page of life with the same eyes, so
no two triuipphant books can be alike. Literature cannot sur-
pass what is greatest and deepest in life, therefore the immor-
tal books must touch an answering chord in our natures before
we understand them or make them our own. It has been said
that it takes a great man to criticise a great book, and this
truth underlies the apparent extravagance of the statement
that the spirit of the book and the spirit of the critic must be
in S3fmpathy, else the message is broken and the book speaks
to deaf ears. With all Dr. Johnson's greatness — and he was a
great and good man, more lovable and human than Milton
by many degrees — he could not justly estimate Milton's work, for
his mind was out of sympathy, because lacking those qualities
which are demanded of the critic of Paradise Lost.
We all like to keep good company, and I have some sym-
pathy for those unlucky wights who are so honestly ashamed
of their inability to read certain immortal works — Paradise Lost,
for instance — that they maintain a discreet silence. Honesty
keeps them from pretending to admiration, and frankness from
their point of view would accomplish nothing except a com-
fortable easement of conscience, which they are quite willing
to forego. Occasionally one of the world's immortals discloses
curious limitations of spiritual vision. One would naturally
conclude that the message would be of far deeper import to
them than to men of smaller mould, but this does not always
hold good, and we have some rather startling examples of this
lack of literary insight. Emerson could see nothing in Shelley,
Don Quixote, Aristophanes, Miss Austen, or Dickens. He
rarely read a novel, and thought Hawthorne's books not worthy
of him. His opinion on Dante fills us with dismay, it is so
contrary to what the majority would conclude ought to be the
inevitable effect of the most spiritual mind of the middle ages
upon the most spiritual mind of modern times. Emerson's
judgment is delightfully frank, if inscrutable. He says: "Dante
is a man to put into a museum, but not into your house ;
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342 Books Triumphant and Books Militant. [Dec,
another Zelah Colburn ; a prodigy of imaginative function, exe-
cutive rather than contemplative or wise." Is this what we
would expect from the author of Society and Solitude ?
It is consoling to feel that the scope of a book militant is
narrowed to its own short day of fame ; its agencies work not
beneath the surface. It teaches, amuses for a brief span only,
while the influence of a triumphant book fills the mind with
awe, so limitless, so infinite are its possibilities. Its mission is
to uplift the s'^ul, and its foundations are buried in the deepest
parts of our natures, while its spirit carries us into the loftiest
regions attained by mortal intellect. A book triumphant often
touches the soul with such swift, unerring aim that the shock
throws the mind out of its usual balance. Alfieri, in the
strange story of his life, tells of the powerful effect which the
first reading of Plutarch's Lives had upon him. **I flew into a
transport of joy and rapture, and could my wild, unbridled
satisfaction have been witnessed by any one, I should have
been taken for a maniac. Cries and groans and inarticulate
exclamations were all I could express at the treasures unfolded
before me."
Plutarch has had an influence which bids fair to become
immortal, and his devotees, though not all so unbridled as
Alfieri, are many and faithful. Emerson says that " Plutarch
cannot be spared from the smallest library; first, because he is
so readable, which is much ; then, that he is so medicinal and
invigorating." The genial Montaigne read his Plutarch loving-
ly, but our confidence in his judgment is slightly shaken when
he calmly informs us that he can see nothing in Cicero but
" wind " ! Long generations of school-boys will probably be the
only ones to endorse this opinion.
What a difference there is between our books! We are
trained by the books militant, the books of use ; we grow
through yielding ourselves to the triumphant books. No
education is rounded which leaves out of consideration the
mo.ulding influence of the great poems of the world. No
purely technical school can succeed in sending forth a bal-
anced man. When allegiance is given too exclusively to the
militant books, which are tools, stock in trade, the spiritual
nature is left to starve and the balance distorted. It is the
soul, not the skill, which survives in a book ; and the main
difference between a triumphant and a militant boiok is the
difference between genius and talent. We fondly call trium-
phant books "the kinsmen of the soul," all others being mere
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i897-] Books Triumphant and Books Militant. 343
acquaintances, touching the outer circles of our lives dnly.
Emerson said that he used his books as an intellectual stimu-
lus " to set his top spinning," but the true books are as the
men and women who, flesh of our flesh, blood of our blood,
stand so close to us that we almost tremble at the thought of
criticising them. It is not the militant, passing books which
educate us; we must have them, but always, bear in mind, in
their subordinate place. Andrew Lang says that the best
training for life is found in the three immortals of the world,
the Bible, Shakspere, and Homer, and Emerson asks why the
young men of the race cannot be educated on Plato. Do not
criticise your great books ; let them pass beyond the " outer
portal of criticism '' into the heart, and then read them with
your heart. A great book must touch us before it can teach
us; therefore let its beauty sink deep into your soul, and after
you love it and cannot live without it, you may wisely begin
to criticise.
There seems to be a time to read books, and a season for
each one, and it is well to study our moods and And out just
what book fits into each particular mood ; but read, read, read,
and you are sure to come into your kingdom. Dr. Johnson
thought we should always read according to inclination, and
the sage of Concord agrees with him, though limiting the choice
to famous books and never a one less than twelve months old.
What the reader with strong natural leanings towards new and
not famous books is to do, Mr. Emerson saith not. Probably
such benighted density did not occur to him as having any ex-
istence. I would beg leave to differ with both learned doctor
and sage, and suggest that we qualify and temper our natural
inclination with a large humility. If we fondly hug our taste
and conceitedly fancy it to be the highest or the right taste,
because our very own, we shall never grow, and growth should
be the ambition of every lover of books. Taste, dip into, and
persistently try to enjoy the best books, and you will, very
probably do so in time. Yet a book, if it speak at all, ought
to be part of our lives, as it was once bone and marrow of
the man who created it. There is a subtle connection between
triumphant books and the progress of the world. The steady
trend of the former is towards the light, and our real growth
could be measured by our appreciation of them. A great book
is always optimistic, and our highest moods see amelioration
and improvement in the advancing centuries. Dogmatism in
matters of literature is peculiarly obnoxious, and no one can
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344 Books Triumphant and Books Militant. [Dec^,
say the final word on even so open a subject as the number
of immortal books. There is no final judgment in letters, as
there are no final books. The greatest book is only the finite
speech of the soul, and '' the soul of man is ever growing and
striving upwards through endless experiences into larger knowl-
edge of itself."
Yet the consensus of the world's opinion gives not more
than a score of immortal books, and of these I will only take
four as immortal in their entirety : the Bible, Homer, Dante,
and Shakspere. There are happily many triumphant books,
which are immortal in those parts that have been breathed up-
on by the genius of their creator. Of these individual taste
goes a good way towards selection. We are apt to look upon
our favorites among books somewhat as we do upon our own
kith and kin, being marvellously touchy if any one dares to
make invidious remarks about them, but using large liberty in
criticising them ourselves. Their foibles and idiosyncrasies are
ours also, and woe be to the friend who ventures to smile at
our family ways ! Among the crowned kings of the intellect
most of us count Plato, Milton, Cervantes, Goethe, Wordsworth,
and Emerson, and certain gems of Hafiz, Heine, Shelley, Lowell,
Hugo, and Sand are perfect in their way ; their sway is, how-
ever, not over the entire world, and there are some to eagerly
dispute their claim. But the supremacy of the four great ones
is beyond doubt ; all pay glad allegiance to them. It is but
recently that the literary value of the Bible has aroused the
interest of scholars, and every expression of opinion in this
new field claims earnest attention. Professor Munger, in speak-
ing of the literary form of the Bible, says:
"It is not necessary in literature that it spring from the
literary motive. Christ himself uttered much that is in the truest
sense literary. It does not matter how it comes about, if it is
the genuine thing. Christ was without the literary purpose,
but that does not forbid us from counting the 'Parable of the
Prodigal Son ' as a consummate and powerful piece of litera-
ture. The great master-pieces do not primarily spring from the
literary sense or motive, but from human depths of feeling and
duty, their absence leaving the inspiration if anything more
free. Out of such unconsciousness came Hamlety the Imitation
of Christy the Pilgrim's Progress^ the Gettysburg Oration^ and
many others." In common with all immortal books, the Bible
is a growth, a creation. Its structure and its style are a par*,
of it, and cannot be separated from it. A work of mere talent
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can be divorced from its style, but in the master-piece the style
is the incarnation. To many devout natures this may appear
almost sacrilegious, yet I believe there will be no loss of spirit-
ual insight, and a large gain in intellectual pleasure, by looking
upon the Bible as a great literary work, niade up of separate
and distinct parts. The stupendous task which the editors of
the Polychrome Bible have undertaken will eventually give us
the Bible in all its pristine beauty, and the work will glorify
this century by its breadth, liberality, and scholarship. Poets
have the birthright of spiritual vision, and surely Dante is the
most spiritual poet the world has ever seen. He is a contrast
in almost everything to Homer, the other immortal poet.
Homer appeals to the entire world, Dante to the elect few ;
yet both are for all time, and therein lies the mystery. There
is something sacred, inaccessible,, and intangible about genius,
and the creator, least of all, understands the mystery. Goethe
was not posing, I think, when he disclaimed his ability to ex-
plain his treatment of Faust ; the inspiration seized possession
of his soul and he wrote because he had to write. Mrs. Stowe
once told a friend that she had no idea how Uncle Tom's Cabin
was going to end. It simply unfolded itself before her, and
her hand penned the lines which her genius dictated. Each
age compares itself with the immortals, and holds up its own
fairest types to the mirror of the past, hoping to find kinship
with them. Are we not always translating our master-pieces?
Does not every tragedy recall the divine trio of Greeks ? Does
not every lyric date back to Hafiz ? These pictures from the
childhood of the world exert a perennial fascination over us,
and we feel that no such sane, fresh, and natural views will
ever again prevail. Carlyle called Dante ''the spokesman of
ten silent centuries," and the phrase is grandly expressive.
There is but one Divine Comedy^ one poem so comprehensive
in scope, so deep in feeling. But these books are not easy
reading, and we too readily neglect them to skim over the
ephemeral froth of the hour, not once recognizing that they
should be our daily and perpetual food.
To pass to our next Immortal. It would be a superfluous
task, and one far beyond talent or inclination, to criticise
Shakspere ; Henry James says that every new critic of Shak-
spere makes it a matter of principle to differ with every other
critic; and as I have no new views to offer, it becomes me to
confine myself to the bald statement that Shakspere is the
greatest of the immortal men the world has seen.
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346 Books Triumphant and Books Militant. [Dec,
There is a little book which comes so near to being one of
the immortals that I have a mind to put on my list — the Imu
tation of Christy by Thomas \ Kempis. It is a slender book,
but teems with knowledge of humanity. The soul of its writer
speaks directly to the soul of the reader, and the truth, simplicity,
and charity of it have made it a guide to the greatest and purest
of minds. Surviving all the philosophy and science of its age,
it is read and revered in many languages, and time seems pow-
erless to diminish its influence.
Books may be triumphant in many ways. Though lack-
ing perfection of form, they may have a certain spiritual qual-
ity which is so fine and true that it appeals directly to us,
and its moulding influence extends beyond its own day in-
definitely down the ages. John Halifax^ Gentleman^ is such
a book, and I doubt not that it will continue to awaken the
same noble yearning, the same pure, high ambition in young
men for many generations to come. There are such books
in every language, and their mission is a very noble one.
They are like the influence which a quiet nature, strong,
sweet, and unspoiled by the world, often exerts upon all who
come in contact with it. We may also compare them to a seed
which is sown, grows, and sows itself again and again, till it
can be said to obtain everlasting life. Who reaps the crop ?
How many are sustained by its succulent food? How many
grow to noble stature who, without it, would have lived worth-
less, stunted lives? These influences which breathe forth from
a book are so pervasive, so incapable of analysis, that we scarce-
ly take note of them. They are like light and the air we breathe,
giving sustenance and vigor in a subtle, noiseless fashion, im«
perceptible to the finest senses. The analogy becomes too
tempting; we shall soon be comparing books with every prize
within man's reach, for there is no lover of books who does
net dote on extolling his idol's charms, and surely nothing
arouses such warmth of feeling as to find that some familiar
author has loved the same books that we cherish. Who is not
pleased that Alexander Dumas loved Goethe, Shakspere, Virgil,
and Scott? — that Goethe once said that the reading of Sir
Walter made an epoch in his life ? And who does not confess
to a sinking of heart at hearing that pure, sweet-minded Emer-
son and the womanly, gifted George Eliot enjoyed — positively
enjoyed — reading Rousseau ? I confess to finding Rousseau dis-
gusting, though all the while recognizing the genius of the man
and the high literary quality of his horrible Confessions.
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1 897-] Books Triumphant and Books Militant, 347
The line separating triumphant from militant books is a very-
irregular one, at times so slight as scarcely to be perceived,
and we are in doubt on which side the book stands. Matthew
Arnold's three estimates may aid us somewhat in fixing the status
of a book — the first being the measure of strength and joy we de-
rive from the book, the second the historical, and the third the
personal estimate. Yet one thing is certain — no book is immortal
to us if it does not triumph serenely over the first estimate. We
must derive some positive pleasure, some good from the book,
must be uplifted and cheered by it. Dr. Johnson put the mat-
ter in a nutshell when he said : ** A book should teach us either
to enjoy life or endure it."
The office of literature, broadly stated, is enjoyment, and to
insure this laudable end there must be, alas ! too frequently,
forgetfulness of self. It is such a good thing to forget our-
selves, our duties, our wasted lives, our petty ambitions, the
hurry and rush of things, and live in the satisfying realm of a
book ! This is the function, above all others, of the novel, and
the sole reason for its being. The novel which for the time
makes us banish sorrow, disappointment, and failure does a very
gracious thing, and its influence on our lives, at least, is
supreme. George Eliot wields this magical charm over some,
myself among the number, while others, whose lives touch
mine at many vital points, derive nothing at all of pleasure
from the books which so uplift and cheer me. There are, alas!
so many boundaries set on every life, the groove in which we
all tread our destiny is so narrow, the limits of our activity so
confined, the walls which shut us out from the Elysian Fields
so high and rough, that I wonder we do not more clearly ap-
preciate the gifts which books spread before us. Consider how
free and limitless is their world compared with ours! When
we enter into their kingdom we are granted converse with the
deathless ones ; our souls sing and soar, unfettered by any
bound, and we may, for the time, forget that we are but aliens
and guests in a larger sphere. Seldom is duty so closely allied
to pleasure as in the duty, which devolves upon every one, of
reading. I have noticed a tendency in many men and women to
look upon all reading which did not touch their particular
vocation in the light of a luxury, and I think the measure of
their content would be greatly enlarged if they could heartily
agree with the opinion of two famous men, Cardinal Newman
and Bishop Baxter. The saintly prelate cites among our duties
" the duty of living among books," and Baxter goes so far as
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348 Books Triumphant and Books Militant, [Dec.
to exclaim : " Do not our hearts hug our books ? Do we not
quiet ourselves in them far more even than in God?" Sir
John Herschel also looked upon reading in the light of a duty,
clothed in the garb of a legitimate pleasure. He says: "If I
were to pray for a taste which should stand me in stead under
every variety of circumstances, and be a source of happiness
and cheerfulness to me through life and a shield against its
ills, it would be a taste for reading." Therefore fill yourselves
with the books of use» the militant books, that you may live
with the triumphant ones. It is absolutely sure to enlarge
your horizon. No man ever grew narrow through over-much
reading, and the deeper insight into truth which the genius
puts into his book enables us common mortals to more truly
understand life. The greatest gift the gods can bestow is,
after all, knowledge of life ; not of mere externals, of the crude
facts of the militant books, but a knowledge of motives and
springs of action. There are some rare natures who get along
with profit to themselves and uncriticised by the world with-
out much reading, but they are too rare even for an example,
and it is safer to worship than imitate them. Abraham Lincoln
was such a man. His power and influence over men could not
have been greater, it would not have been amplified by read-
ing, and might even have diminished somewhat, . for he read
the book of nature at first hand, needing no interpreter, no
external aid. What he needed only were the facts and dates
and accounts of things, which the books of use gave him. The
insight, the transfusing power were there in the man, for he
was all genius, the very man to write immortal books had cir-
cumstances turned him in that direction. I count my time
far better spent in reading than in writing. We do not need
the little thoughts of little men — and that is all the most of
us can offer — as much as insight into one immortal man, and
years, nay, a lifetime of study are not too long for it. Study
and worship the triumphant books till you understand them ;
it will be the measure of a well-spent life. But there is an
order to be noted, failure to observe which makes us mere
book-worms and intellectual gluttons. We must study life first
and afterwards books, from our knowledge of life. The connection
between literature and life is vital, but we can never get our
knowledge of humanity from books alone. Neither Shakspere
nor Goethe can teach us humanity; but if we become patient in-
vestigators on a small scale, we can derive much light and
strength from the study of the largest results of the largest minds.
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350 Christmas Day IN DuNGAR. [Dec,
CHRISTMAS DAY IN DUNGAR.
BY DOROTHY GRESHAM.
HRISTMAS EVE, long looked for, much talked
of, has come at last. It has been snowing all
the morning in soft, gentle, fleecy showers. The
branches are bending under the white burden,
the robins are flying for shelter and shyly drop
on the window-sills for a feast of crumbs. I throw up my
window and revel in this home-like scene. The park looks
strange in its bridal array, the mountains are gloomy under
the dark clouds, and sulkily retire from view. The air is life-
giving, and I long to be out and away. There is much to do
before the day is over, and, snow or sunshine, Kitty and I
have a long drive on our programme. As I stand admiring,
she comes galloping up from the lodge, her hat and cape bor-
dered with snow-flakes, her eyes and cheeks glowing. She sees
me above with the robins and, waving her whip, cries :
"The compliments of the season! It is glorious! Come
along; we shall have a charming day for our spin."
I am down in the hall and with her before she has
finished. Aunt Eva and Nell, according to the old family cus-
tom, remain at home to give the Christmas-boxes in person to
the people in the neighborhood, while to those at a distance the
provisions are sent, Kitty and I being the Mercurys this year.
We were to have driven, but as we must be out in the
cold all day, it has been thought wiser that we should ride, tak-
ing Barney, one of the Dungar stable-boys, and the pony-cart
for the presents. The air is bracing if chilly, but we trot and
gallop when we feel the sting; the roads are hard, and the
snow melts as it falls. At the cross-roads, in the wood, through
the village street, beyond the bog, and far into the mountains,
we call, and leave greetings and gifts from Crusheen and
Dungar, galloping away 'mid a shower of blessings for **the
auld and young misthress,'* and a share for ourselves, such as
" May the light of heaven be about ye ! " " May the world
wonder at your riches, Miss Kitty ! " " May the heavens be
your bed. Miss Dolly, and the Lord send you safe home!"
But the funniest benediction comes from blind Biddy, who,
after a long supplication for our spiritual and temporal welfare,
winds up, " An' may we always have ye whin we want ye ! "
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1897.] Christmas Day IN DuNGAR. 351
Barney's salutation at each door is "God save all here," and
is answered from within with a warm " God save ye kindly."
It is growing dark by the time we get through all our calls,
and, returning by the chapel, we find the priests still in the
confessionals, where they have been since morning, surrounded
by old and young. The chapel is icy ! No fire, of course,
and the fathers must needs take a brisk turn, wrapt in their
great-coats, to keep their feet warm. We are so heated with
our exercise that we do not feel it much — Kitty not at all —
and when I express surprise, she is much amazed. She says
every one is so accustomed to the cold that they do not mind
an occasional severe day like this, ending with her usual joke
at America : " Of course your people expect to climb to hea-
ven in down and purple velvet."
We get home full of fun and adventure, to find Nell rather
weary after all her interviews. We help with the remainder ;
Kitty, with long familiarity, sending them off with merry words
and extra speed.
I am worn out when all is over; Kitty rides away to Cru-
sheen with as much zest as if she had been luxuriating all day.
We gather round the fire, joyous if weary, feeling we have
done a good day's work in making so many happy. Kevin has
been out on the mountains all the week shooting, and has just
returned. We tell him our experiences, and he is full of indig-
nation, tempered by admiration for Father Gerald.
Whenever he can, on his mountain expeditions, he spends
the night with the sweet friend of his boyhood, when Judy airs
all her injuries against his reverence, that Kevin might "spake
to him " — his early rising, his long hours in the confessional, his
hard life, etc., etc. This time she is in tears over Father
Gerald's latest, being almost consoled by Kevin's unqualified
sympathy. The fact is, Mrs. Riordan was so miserable that when
his reverence found her lying on straw, he sent down his own bed
to her, taking the cot for himself until better days should come.
" I tell you," added Kevin, full of wrath, " I gave it to old
Gerald this time ; but he is not a bit afraid of me. I put on
my hat and made for the door, declaring I was not going to
stay where there was even no bed for me. With a stride he
collared me, and then he had his say, which had a calming
eflfect on me ; his one question being, * Now, Fortescue, I know
you pretty well by this time, and, answer me, could you rest at
night in comfort with a picture of a young mother — a delicate,
suffering woman — lying on straw ? — if 't were a man 't were bad
enough, but a woman ! ' I did not answer him, of course — too
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352 Christmas Day IN DuNGAR. [Dec,
much encouragement for worse things — but I rang for Judy to
let us have dinner, and wrote an order for a bed. Coming
away this morning I told her when it came it was to be put
in Father Gerald's room, and that it was mine^ so that if any
one should ever come for that, she could kindly say I should
send the bailiff after it. Her face was smiles from her cap
down, and I have settled that matter satisfactorily, I think."
I go to bed to dream of home and long dead scenes of
childhood, to be aroused in the dusk of the Christmas morning
by Jane's low-voiced " Merry Christmas, Miss Dolly ! We are all
waiting for you ; we shall be late for Mass." I promise to be
with them in a quarter of an hour, and hurry down stairs. The
servants are all coming to Crusheen for the early Mass, Father
Tom saying every year one of his three Masses for Uncle and
Aunt Eva. Down the avenue through the white world, the
light of the lanterns falling on the snow, we make a goodly
cavalcade, leaving Kevin and Nell alone in Dungar. This
Crusheen . Mass has been for years a great Christmas feature,
and is talked of for months after. This is the first time for
generations that a relative of the Protestant Fortescues has
gone with the family retainers to the Christmas Mass, and much
comment and prophecy are the result on the road.
I am on Princess Maud to keep myself warm, Barney, on
kis pony, leading the way through the darkness. Uncle Des-
mond is standing in the lighted hall to meet us, and silently
they all file into the oratory. Some one touches my arm, and
in a wheedling tone a voice says: "Miss Dolly, will you tell
the masther I want to receive this morning, and if he will spake
a couple of words to Father Tom ? "
It's that rogue Thade Darcy, and I am prepared for him.
The women spoke of it coming. He never will go to confes-
sion like every one else, but appears on Christmas morning at
Crusheen, with a childlike air, begging to be '* heard." Eack
year Father Tom vows and declares that never again shall he
listen to that rascal if he does not come to the station, and
just as regularly Thade arrives and conquers. I turn on him
now, intending to wither him ; but his bland, witty answers
are ready to quell every onslaught. I have a frightful strug-
gle to keep solemn during the encounter, and in sheer despair
hand him over to Uncle Desmond. He must have won again
this time, for half an hour later he marches up to Holy Com-
munion with the rest of us, with the most venerable, sanctified
look, as if he were a veritable pillar of the church. Father
Tom drives away for his second Mass in the chapel, and after
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I897-] Christmas Day in Dungar. 353
breakfast we go in to the last Mass at eleven o'clock. The
altar looks very plain and poor to my New York eyes — no
crib, but the atmosphere of peace and good will among the
congregation has, after all, the true Christmas glow. We are
overwhelmed with good wishes coming home, the whole parish
wanting to offer them in person. We get Aunt Eva away by
main force, as Nell and Kevin will be awaiting us at Crusheen,
coming straight from church to meet us on our return. We
have much amusement over our mutual surprises and presents.
Uncle reads the names, and Kevin, with a characteristic speech
and a bow that embraces all the room, presents them in a
most ludicrous manner.
We dine late, as the priests breakfast for the most part at
one o'clock, and the evening is on the wane when they begin
to gather; Father Gerald arriving at the last moment, when
we had given him up. He looks very tired, but brightens up
as Kevin escorts him into the room, introducing him with deep
solemnity to Rev. Fathers, Ladies, and Gentlemen as " his Lord-
ship the Bishop of Crusheen," and taking his arm, leads in the
procession to the dining-room. We take our places, old Father
O'Connor and Kevin by mutual request being seated side by
side, and then indeed we all shiver in our shoes, for now we
know that for the rest of the night there will be no peace for
the wicked, still less for the innocent. I open fire in a low
tone on Father Gerald, giving him Kevin's account of his
kindness to Mrs. Riordan. He is much amused as he de-
scribes Judy's and Kevin's wrathful countenances and the lat-
ter's denunciations, adding : " Fortescue is so indignant always
at anything I do ; but we never hear of his acts. He does
more hidden works of benevolence among the poor moun-
taineers than ever any one dreams."
" Father Gerald," I asked somewhat later, " do you never
feel lonely away in your mountains without a congenial soul
for months together ? "
He looks at me with amused surprise.
"Lonely?" he says. " I have never known what the feeling
means. I have no time, in the first place, and in the second,
I would not exchange my lot with any man living."
"Yes," I respond, "but do you never long for some one
to talk to you ? "
" Talk ? Why I hear plenty of that all through the day. I
have my own delightful self for miles in the saddle at morn-
ing, and at night the most charming friends in my few books —
VOL. Lxvi.— 23
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354 Christmas Day IN DuNGAR. [Dec,
only, unfortunately," with a wistful smile, " I get so little time
to see them."
'• How do your days go so quickly? You at least ought to
have time to read, I should think."
" Well, here is a specimen of my days, and see what you
can do with it: I had a sleep this morning till six, made my
meditation, said my first Mass, read my office, heard confes-
sions of the workmen who could not come yesterday ; then
the parish Mass, baptisms, and several interviews on mixed
questions ; rode six miles to the second chapel, confessions and
Mass at eleven o'clock, and when all was over breakfast at one
o'clock. Three sick-calls in different directions — the last four
miles from here — and you saw what hour I arrived ; that is the
ordinary Sunday's work — many times out at night as well."
While he speaks I look at his thin, worn face, and hair
fast growing white, and then at Kevin's smooth, fresh, boyish
one, and wonder no longer why Father Gerald looks ten instead
of one year older than his lively friend.
"But," I continue, "do you never weary of it all? The
confessional now — two whole days each week given up to it!"
" The confessional," with a far-ofi, ecstatic look, " is the
greatest joy in my life. I never feel tired no matter how
long I sit there. The wonder of being a medium of reconcili-
ation between the Creator and creature is a daily and hourly
consolation. I so often think, did we priests fully realize the
power of the confessional the whole world would be converted.
There is no life so even, so naturally happy as a priest's, were
you—"
But Father O'Connor breaks in : " Father Gerald, I was in
town yesterday and saw the vicar. As I was leaving he said, in
a dry sort of tone: * When have you seen Father Gerald? A
promising young man that; I am thinking of asking the bishop
to send in his name to the university for the chair of Beg-
ology.'"
Kevin is jubilant at this announcement, and the two wags
come down on the crushed candidate of the unexpected honors.
Aunt Eva joins forces with her nephew, and we all take up
the gauntlet with spirit. The wit and banter are replaced later
on, in the old drawing-room, by entrancing harmony ; Moore's
Melodies ringing cheerily in duos, trios, and quartettes. Every
one in Ireland has a musical soul, and we wind up the memor-
able Christmas night with a grand chorus of ** Auld Lang
Syne."
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i897-] Wo/iAr OF THE Laity in a Sunda y-School. 355
WORK OF THE LAITY IN A SUNDAY-SCHOOL.
BY MONTGOMERY FORBES.
[FTER fourteen a boy turns with set purpose aWay
from childish things ; yet not to those of man-
hood, for their significance is not yet grasped by
him. What the innocent child cannot compre-
hend, what the busy man drives from his mind,
floods aimless youth with all' the fascinations of novelty and
reductions of unchallenged promise. Youth is the impressiona-
ble period ; youth is the assimilative period ; youth stores up
the physical, mental, and moral resources of a life-time, and if
a man is to be reached from without at all it must be while
he is still a youth.
This is not a new doctrine. The first conqueror under-
stood it when he put to death all his grown-up enemies and
reserved the youth for future subjects. But the doctrine has
lately obtained new prominence, because never before was the
world in general so thoroughly aroused to the duty of uplift-
ing humanity. This has been the business of the church all
along ; now it has become especially the business of those out-
side the church, with the one distinction, that the church is
seeking first the Kingdom of Heaven, while those who are
merely strangers to her are bent upon the improvement of the
world. Perhaps it would be aside from the point to ask
whether their beneficent activity is one of those "great signs
and wonders to deceive, if possible, even the elect," but this
much is apparent, here as elsewhere : " the children of this
world are wiser in their generation than the children of light."
The watchword has been given all along the line of
humanistic philanthropy : ** Save the youth ; the youth saved
•is the man saved ; if the youth is neglected, the man is usually
past saving."
The word has been like seed sown in good soil, and the
Kindergarten system, the University Settlement system, the
Public Education system, the Protestant Sunday-School sys-
tem, the Epworth League, the Society of Christian Endeavor,
the Young Men*s Christian Association, are some of the grand
divisions in that mighty army whose marchings and counter-
marchings fill the land with their reverberations, whose litera-
ture has penetrated into every home, whose permanent and
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356 WO/^AT OF THE LAITY IN A SUNDAY-SCHOOL. [Dcc,
costly buildings adorn every city, whose acts are the concern
of legislators, the food of popular discussion, the hope of
fifty million hearts. The generation developed under these
influences and firmly established in the principles of these
organizations, is even now receiving into its hands the reins of
government, the balance of social, political, and religious power.
It is an essentially mundane and unspiritual generation. It
takes off its hat to the school-house and remains covered when
it passes the cross; but its worldliness is kind. The situation
is at once the most baflHing and the most promising with which
the church has had yet to deal. This noble, industrious, and
true people seems ready for the- perfection of a supernatural
religion, yet refers to its good works and asks in all sincerity
how it can be justified in exchanging them for the contrasting
conditions to be found in the Catholic fold.
"The thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts," was
Longfellow's refrain, but they proceed. without logic and satisfy
without conclusiveness. Youth sits like an idler in the city
gate, welcoming every one and concerned with none. His
reason is not active, critical, afrown with duty, but passive,
nonchalant, emotional. Every Telemachus needs a Mentor,
not to dominate his reason, never to force it, but to keep it
awake, to supply the sense of accountability which youth lacks,
to provide an antidote of truth for the sophistries of evil and
a motive of loftiness against the suggestions of nature. In the
attempts of non-Catholic humanitarians to meet this need the
weakness of their position has been most evident, for not all
the sciences and the arts, not all the fraternities and charities,
not all the false philosophies and heretical theologies of human
invention can satisfy the blind cravings of a soul whose ulti-
mate destiny is that God who founded one church to be his
witness and representative.
So far has the deficiency been compensated by zeal, how-
ever, that non-Catholic youth of fair breeding in America to-
day are comparatively free from the grosser vices. Philanthro-»
pists have sought also to reform the vicious and depraved by
high ideals of excellence. Social consciousness, proceeding
with princely self-assurance from the American home and fos-
tered by every variety of social organization, has been the chief
instrument in their hands. Next to the supernatural, it is the
most powerful defender of public morals, but in the vocabulary
of the church such words as " classes ** and " masses'* are not to
be found. She is admitted even by her enemies to be the loving
mother of the poor, the ignorant, the social pariahs; her mater-
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1 897-] Woj^A^ OF THE Laity in a Sunday-School. 357
nal anxiety does not deny responsibility for children whose
betrayals of her are past expression, and she is so far removed
from a system of class distinctions that she derives little aid
from the influence of social consciousness. She is a supernatural
society, sustained by the bond of faith. When this bond is
properly conserved, no society can compare with her in unity
and consciousness of unity. Catholics now, as when the Epis-
tle to Diognetus was written eighteen hundred years ago, "are
not distinguished from other men either by country or by lan-
guage or by customs. They dwell both in Greek and barbar-
ous cities, as the lot of each may be, following local customs
as to raiment and food, but exhibiting withal a polity of their
own, marvellous and truly incredible. They dwell in their own
country, but as sojourners ; they share in everything as citizens,
yet suffer everything as strangers. Every foreign land is to
them a country, and every country a foreign land.'*
A bad Catholic often becomes a worldling in the most pro-
nounced degree, an Ishmaelite, his hand against all men and
all men's hands against him. From such are corrupt politicians
recruited, and saloon-keepers, and the outlaws that walk the
streets, and those who deal dishonestly in trade. To such, non-
Catholics, decorous, law-abiding, punctilious of honor and self-
respect, are always pointing with their query, " If for these you
are responsible, how can you claim our allegiance?" But it is
cheap invective to accuse the Church in America with default
towards any of her subjects, when the field of her duties is so
broad and the efforts of her teachers are so strenuous.
A number of priests and laymen have come to feel it on
their consciences of late to undertake something in behalf of
youth between the ages of First Communion and mature young
manhood. First Communion is itself a guarantee of the child's
previous good training, and young men of established character
find inspiration to high endeavor in their Lyceums, Institutes,
Reading Circles, and the Summer-Schools. But one of those agi-
tating the subject says that from the class of thirty in which he
was prepared for First Communion, only thirteen have grown to
be devoted Catholics, the others are more or less indifferent, and
two or three are commonly reputed desperadoes. Each reader
must decide how far this instance can be taken as representative.
American church statistics are most unsatisfactory ; estimates of
lapses from the faith vary, and the number of those who have
received scarcely more than elementary religious instruction is
equally past determination, although of supreme importance in a
discussion of lapses, since the majority of them are due to lack
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358 WO/^AT OF THE LaITY IN A SUNDAY^SCHOOL. [Dec,
of instruction. The private authority quoted above insists upon
thi3 truth : his fellow-communicants were left, like himself, to
develop under non-Catholic and even non-Christian influences.
Among remedies, catechetical instruction is as old as the
church ; its continuous use is proof of its value, and since the
days when a heathen populace was diverted from its feverish
amusements by the brilliancy of young Origen's teaching, the
art has had many illustrious masters. It remains for America,
which has taught the world in so many ways, to supplement
past experience with new inventions for popularizing the truths
of faith. The music and social charm of a Protestant Sunday*
School, combined with the grading and discipline of a public
secular school, afford the material which Catholic doctrine in-
forms with a spiritual value, truly elevating it to a higher or-
der of being. That this ideal is seldom realized in the religious
education of Catholic children before First Communion, is a
matter of regret ; but a like system, strengthened and perfected
with a view to the advanced religious education of Cathoh'c
youth, could be established in many places. A notable exam-
ple is the Paulist Sunday-School, in New York City. The in-
stitution was founded in 1859 by the Very Rev. A. F, Hewit,
late Superior of the Paulist Fathers. It was in its beginning
of such primitive character that the pupils were in need of
guides along the rocky, goat-infested paths of that rugged
island which is now so populous. To-day St. Michael's Chapel,
occupying a space equal to that of the huge church above, con-
taining a handsomely appointed sanctuary, a large pipe-organ,
and the various mechanical devices necessary for the comfort
of large numbers in class at the same time, adorned with paint-
ings and tapestries and memorial windows, presents that com-
bination which Father Hecker desired "to give the child's pic-
ture-loving mind a better and more sublime idea of religion
than years of reading and preaching can do." This chapel for
the children is peopled, not one hour or one day but several
times in the week, by an army varying from 1,800 to 2,000. It
is an imposing example of what the Catholic Sunday-School
can be and should everywhere become for the sake of en-
lightened, God-directed youth, and of patriotic. God-fearing
citizenship.
The attractions of the Sunday-School, the thoroughness ard
scientific gradation of studies and the advanced classes in
Christian doctrine, are its most notable features. Chief among
the sources of attraction is the Children's Mass, with which
Sunday exercises always begin. Books have been specially
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i897-] Wo/?/ir OF the Laity in a Sunday-Scbool. 359
prepared which enable them to accompany with vocal prayer
and song each step of the Divine Sacrifice. A recent convert
to Catholicity has written of the scene :
"I had been told beforehand that I would find there 1,800
children, and therefore when I stood in a corner of St. Michael's
Chapel and saw its vast space crowded, stretching so far away
that children's faces were indistinct in the distance, I was not
surprised, but I was awed. One single child is a mystery of
love, and when 1,800 children are gathered in one broad room,
and when all the saints and angels and mothers and fathers and
other relatives who love those children have their hearts turned
thither, then beyond any question the place is awe-inspiring.
I was annoyed to think how often I had seen children in Pro-
testant Sunday-Schools without being thus impressed with the
majesty of childhood. I explained to myself that here were
unity and peace such as I had never seen before, and I set
about to inquire their origin. When the services began the
great difference between this and Protestant Sunday-Schools
possessed me in a warm flood of emotion : He was there ! In
the Children's Mass, obedient to the call of the children's
priest, the Blessed Son of God came down to be in company
with the children He loves. Now all the clean clothes and bright
faces, the quiet and order of the crowded Sunday-School, had
a reason for being. Ungenerous indeed is the child who does
not desire to become more pleasant and well-behaved for the
sake of this Guest ! "
That the children appreciate their privilege is attested by
every visitor. Another, writing in the New York Sun^ says :
"Never have I assisted at Mass with such attention and recol-
lection as the morning on which I first heard that service for
the children in the Paulist Sunday-School."
First Communion also, the event to which more than half
of these children are still looking forward, is emphasized in its
solemnity by the numbers participating. Rank after rank of
boys in white military sashes, and of girls in appropriate bridal
costumes, advance to the altar-rail or fall back to make room
for others, and here, in their post-communion hymn, is perhaps
the culmination of their devotional training, the perfected
flower of the Sunday-School, as their limpid voices fill the lofty
church with the triumphant song of a consecrated multitude.
To one looking on from without, therefore, the religious
features of the Sunday-School appear to constitute its most
irresistible charm. Yet it is likely that in the imaginations
of the first communicants their annual voyage to some wood-
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360 Wo/^A' OF THE Laity in a Sunday-School. [Dec,
bound shore of the sea has a mighty sway ; it is for many the
happiest day of their lives. Others are interested in the
bountiful distributions of prizes from time to time, and the
fortnightly issue of The Young Catholic^ a magazine extensively
used in this Sunday-School. The more advanced students have
free use of a library of almost 2,000 volumes, including the
latest and most popular literature of a wholesome nature which
each year's market affords. They also find encouragement in
the public honor roll, the promised diploma of graduation, and
the possible gold medal of supreme merit. Consequently one
is not so greatly surprised to learn that a place in the Sunday-
School is eagerly coveted, and that graduates, far from out-
growing the Sunday-School, are constantly making application
for service as teachers," ready to come any distance or to make
any sacrifice in order to fulfil the arduous duties of the posi-
tion. Yet the lasting attraction must always be the thorough-
ness of instruction which is made possible by the very numbers
it calls forth. Children between six and ten years of age are
put in the fourth grade, where they are taught to pray and are
prepared for first confession. They meet on Sunday morning
and Monday afternoon. The third grade is a year's course of
two days each week, specially employed in preparation for First
Communion and Confirmation. The second and first grades,
with three classes each week, one of which is at night for the
advantage of those who work, take children at an age when
Catholic Sunday-Schools have been accustomed to drop them,
and, for six years during the most critical period of life, absorb
a large proportion of their leisure in the study of Catholic teach-
ing, supplemented by doctrinal lectures, occasional exercise in
composition, and the study of Scripture references. Besides the
requisite age, fourteen years, entrance into the first grade is
dependent also upon an examination whose problematic out-
come supplies an effectual incentive to good work in the
second grade. Exceptions are few to the rule that the best
application of the entire course is expended upon the closing
three years of advanced work.
By this time all have learned to prize graduation as the
highest honor of their youth, and their thoughts are taken from
other channels not alone by study, but also by ardent antici-
pation of the coming reward. To this general motive is added
the special excitement of contest for the gold medals. Former-
ly one medal was of silver, and markedly second to the first of
gold, but the latter went so invariably to the girls that the
boys lost ambition and interest. Now the first and second
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i«97-] fVo/^Jir OF THE Laity in a Sunda y-School. 361
medals are both gold, almost of equal value, and the boys,
with renewed hopes, have been able to take the first more
than once since the change. So eager are these contests that
many try each of the three years, with a view to insure final
success. The voluntary examinations for medals are the most
severe of all, for the questions are devised to afford tests of
judgment as well as memory, and are based, not verbally but
substantially, upon the text-books that have been used. The
questions given during the term that closed in June last, both
for the medals and for graduation, are appended :
EXAMINATION FOR GRADUATION.
For what purpose were the feasts of our Lord instituted ?
Can the church suppress holydays?
Why does the church command fasting?
Why has the church commanded that the Blessed Sacrament
should be received at Easter time ?
Does the Fifth Commandment forbid only the actual crime
of taking away the life of our neighbor?
What are we commanded by the Fifth Commandment?
What does the Seventh Commandment foibid?
Who is bound to make restitution or reparation?
What does the Eighth Commandment forbid?
How may we best guard against the sins of the tongue ?
In how many ways may we sin ?
When do we commit mortal sin ?
In what does the malice of sin principally consist ?
Is the good done in mortal sin useless?
In what does Christian virtue consist?
Can people in the world lead a perfect life ?
What means must a Christian use, let his condition be what
it may, in order to obtain perfection ?
What do we understand by the grace of God ?
Does God give his grace to all men ?
How long does sanctifying grace remain in the soul ?
What is a good intention ?
What means must we particularly use in order to obtain
grace?
When did Christ give the commandment to baptize?
Who can validly baptize ?
What is the baptism of desire ?
COMPETITION FOR GOLD MEDALS.
Is it ever lawful to destroy human life?
When do we injure ourselves as to the life of our body?
Give a statement of the dangerous vices which young peo-
ple are obliged to guard against while attaining their growth ?
When may we expose our life or our health to danger?
State the duties required by the Fifth Commandment ?
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362 Wo/iAr OF THE Laity in a Sunday-School. [Dec,
What is the distinction between theft and cheating?
Who has the obligation of making restitution for ill-gotten
goods ?
Give two examples showing the duty of restitution when
there has been no robbery committed.
Mention the sins forbidden by the Eighth Commandment
How can a Christian be contented, even in poverty?
When is an ofTeiice against the law of God not quite vol.
untary ?
What is meant by infused virtue?
Name the four principal moral virtues, and give an explan-
ation of each one.
Why should every Christian strive after perfection ?
Which good works should be performed before all others?
>
For each contest the rule is enforced that full reasons must
be given for every answer. " Yes *' or ** No " will not suffice.
The schedule of credits extend to 1,500 for each paper, and
over 1,400 has been frequently reached by zealous students.
In ordinary class-work every lesson is limited to five questions,
the answers to which must be known in sense as well as ver-
bally. All in each grade have the same lesson at the same
time, and the marking is uniform throughout — two for each
perfect answer, ten for attendance, and ten for good conduct.
Each grade has a special examiner, who passes from class to
class and requires a review of all the work done since the last
visit. In the first grade monthly written examinations are re-
quired.
One of the Paulist Fathers is the Director. Under him are
grade superintendents, examiners, and various officers who
meet the clerical and administrative demands of so extensive
an organization. All these are representatives of the laity, and
many are graduates of the Sunday-School. Consequently the
success of the institution, in its length and breadth, is mainly
due to lay co-operation, beginning with the parents at home,
who teach the children their lessons and see that they attend
all classes punctually, and ending with the grade superinten-
dents, whose multiplex duties call for a high order of judg-
ment, tact, and experience.
Although the Paulist Sunday-School has been the subject
of unremitting efforts towards perfection during the past thirty-
seven years, its oflScers and teachers find new problems arise
at every upward step ; these, also, have been reduced to sys-
tematic treatment, and supplied fruitful topics for several con-
ferences at the Champlain Summer-School.
The Rev. Thomas McMillan, C.S.P., who has been for
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1897.] JVO/^AT OF THE LaITY IN A SUNDAY-SCHOOL. 363
almost fifteen years Director of the Paulist Sunday-School, is
well known for his distinguished services to both secular and
religious education. He anticipates with enthusiasm a bright
future for Sunday-Schools in the Church of America, and is
always ready to give cordial aid to those interested in the
subject.
It is expected that a series of conferences on Sunday-
Schools and kindred means of safeguarding Catholic youth
will be held in the Columbian Summer-School at Madison,
Wisconsin, next year; the subject will also be treated in the
Catholic press as occasion permits, and strong hopes are enter-
tained that in the near future the good accomplished by such
foundations as the Paulist Sunday-School will no longer be
confined to a few isolated parishes, but will be included in the
general plans of American Catholic education and philanthropy.
The tens of millions who pray with the League of the Sacred
Heart admire the wisdom which guides Pope Leo's world-wide
solicitude in the selection of monthly general intentions. That
for October was " Religious Instruction in our Schools," and
American Catholics, who must pay a double education tax
or else have their children taught in schools where God is ig-
nored, are accustomed to offer prayers for the October inten-
tion all the year round. For them, therefore, a special inter-
est attaches to a Sunday-School which provides, on two or
three days of the week, day and night classes for the full reli-
gious education of its pupils,- powerfully influencing education
between the ages of six and seventeen, and generously equipping^
them for the fierce intellectual contests which lie in wait for
every Catholic in a land where moderate education, with all
the superficiality it implies, is the universal rule.
Foes of the church still exist, inveterate as ever and active
as ever, and as laymen supported the first ages of the church
by their blood, becoming martyrs for Christ, so must the church
be supported in this latter age by laymen with their intellects,
becoming catechists for the salvation of their fellow-men. Thus
alone, it seems, will America be converted to the faith. Mar-
tyrs were not of the moment. Their preparation was long,
studious, and prayerful. How much more should intellectual
confessors study diligently and long in order to present them-
selves "a living sacrifice to God," doing a "reasonable ser-
vice," "sanctifying the Lord Christ in their hearts, being ready
always to satisfy every one that asks a reason of that hope
which is in them " !
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364 Father Salvator's Christmas. [Dec,
FATHER SALVATOR'S CHRISTMAS.
BY MARGARET KENNA.
BEGGAR at the door!
"Come in," said Father Salvator.
It was almost dark and the snow was falling.
Only a moment before he had looked out upon
the world, and through his mind had flashed those
words of Faber: "There are good angels around us, graces are
raining down upon us, great and small, and inspirations are fall-
ing upon us as swiftly and silently as snow-flakes *' — and as he
looked he saw the beggar.
The man came in and, glancing calmly at his rags, said :
" Could you give me an old coat ? '*
" Could / give you an old coat ? "
When a question was asked him Father Salvator always
repeated it, twisting his lips to one side and blinking his black
eyes. He did it just for fun. It was so comical to watch
the face of the questioner, who could not guess what the an-
swer would be. But this time the question echoed itself on his
lips and the blinking of his eyes was involuntary.
" I guess not," said the beggar.
" Yes, I can," murmured Father Salvator. " I've got a coat
— a very nice coat. See, it hangs there."
It did hang there, just home from the tailor's. Little Tom-
my, Father Salvator's joy and sorrow, mischievous little red-
headed boy, had just been hurried off to the shop to bring it
home. Had Mr. Bonway, the tailor, known that Father Salva-
tor was invited out to dine, that he had mended it so nicely,
making a new coat out of an old one ? He could not efface
the marks of age and weather on the shoulders of the coat,
but he had put on a new collar of gros-grain silk and brushed the
bread-crumbs and marshmallow powder from the deep pockets.
"Tell Father Salvator I want no more candy and crumbs,"
he had said gruffly to little Tommy. And little Tommy had
given the message. " Oh," said Father Salvator, " I must feed
my birds and my babies ! "
He walked over now and took the coat down.
" I'd rather not take it," said the man, moved by something
in the touch of the priest's hands upon the coat.
" You must take it, my good man. To-morrow will be
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Christmas, and I could not bear to think that any one was
wandering around our little town in need, as the Mother of
my Lord wandered about Bethlehem."
"What will you do?"
Father Salvator smiled. In his long experience he had
given many coats. It was the first time a beggar had asked
him what he would do. He pointed to the fire.
" I can sit here and toast my toes, and when the goose lays
her golden egg I can buy a new one."
He drew the coat well over the man's cold shoulders.
" Good-night, sir ; thank you," he said as he went out.
Father Salvator watched him from the window. It was dark,
but he could see the black figure in the snow. Then looking up,
he saw the stars. To him there was a new wonder to-night in
their silent shining. They seemed the trembling notes of the
Gloria the angels were waiting to sing. As each note rang out
in heaven a star would flash and fall in the twilight of dawn,
and there would be " peace on earth to men of good will " !
At the last moment, Christmas afternoon. Father Salvator
sent little Tommy with a note to Mrs. Kendrick, to say he
could not come to dinner.
Then he stood in his room, looking at the smoky walls, the
frosted window-panes, the dusty books. He was disappointed
— that was a secret that, at least, he could not keep from him-
self. He wondered if he could go without an overcoat. No ;
he remembered that his teeth had chattered just crossing the
street to the church, and now he saw the snow blowing along
the garden like sheets on wash-day. On a little table stood his
Christmas gifts. Purely ornamental they were — the parish knew
he always gave the useful ones away. There were books of
poems and bottles of perfume and flowers. A bunch of red
roses from one, and a branch of lilies from another ; and they
were very sweet to him when one considered that Mrs. Ken-
drick was the one and Agnes la Garde the other ! He took a
lily in his chilly fingers, and peered at it through dusty spectacles.
"A lily is not an overcoat," he said sadly.
" Be sure to bring your flute," Mrs. Kendrick had written.
'*Thc major is coming, and we shall have some music." And
he had even gone so far as to take the flute down yesterday
and dust it with an old silk handkerchief. He took it up now
and put it to his lips, but the Christmas anthem which shiv-
ered out upon the silence was dolorous indeed.
" You poor little flute, I am sorry for you," murmured
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366 Father Salvator's Christmas. [Dec,
Father Salvator. " You love gay tunes and light hearts at
Christmas. You are used to the yule log and holly, and you
have not been wont to scorn a little drink of eggnog — and
to think that to-night you will not see your dear old friend
the major's flute. What a jolly little thing the major's flute is!
You would almost think it had white curls and red cheeks and
a well-rounded waistcoat, like the major ! Well, is not imita-
tion the subtlest flattery?
" Are you like me ? Do you play my wrinkles, and my
fierce black curls, and my heart-ache sometimes? Poor little
flute!**. He laid it down and rubbed his eyes.
The door was thrown open and Mrs. Kendrick appeared,
with an army of invaders behind her. In self-defence, Father
Salvator had to rub his eyes a little more. Mrs. Kendrick
shook her finger playfully.
*^ Which was it, your shoes or your coat?" she asked.
" My coat," he answered, startled out of his usual reserve.
Mr. McCaffrey appeared, holding up a coat and a pair of shoes.
**We knew it was one or the other," said Mrs. McCaffrey.
For a moment, then, they all stood silent. It was an in-
vincible little regiment — Mrs. Kendrick, with her lovely brown
eyes bent reproachfully on the guilty one; Mrs. McCaffrey,
smiling her happy smile, which seemed never to have known a
refusal; Mr. McCaffrey, who was very grave when he felt gay
and very gay when others felt grave ; and Rory McCarthy and
Agnes la Garde, ** seen and not heard," but always to be found
in the face of the fire!
"The major is waiting," said Mrs. McCaffrey, as Rory held
the coat for Father Salvator.
" Follow the Little Corporal," said Mrs. Kendrick ; and Mrs.
McCaffrey was proud of Mr. McCaffrey*s resemblance to Napo-
leon, if he was not.
So Father Salvator, dazed and happy, was carried away like a
king. He marched along the snowy streets with his noble guard.
** Merry Christmas, father!" the ladies said as they passed.
" Christmas gift, boss ! " said the darkies.
Little children in sleighs shook branches of holly at him.
" Now aren't you glad you came ? " said Napoleon, twinkling
his mischievous gray eyes.
** Yes," said Father Salvator very softly, " but it is not the
coat which warms me."
** Is it thQ love?" murmured Mrs. McCaffrey.
And Father Salvator only smiled.
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i897-] Since the Condemn a tjon of Anglican Orders. 367
SINCE THE CONDEMNATION OF ANGLICAN
ORDERS.
BY REV. LUKE RIVINGTON, D.D.
fN order to appreciate rightly the effect of the Bull
ApostoliccB Cur<E in England, we ought to consider
the state of things into which it fell as a bolt
from the blue.
It must be remembered that the attitude of
" English Churchmen " (it is difficult to know what expression
to use, but this conveys what is meant fairly well) towards
the subject of Orders has been very peculiar. It had been in-
grained into generation upon generation of English Protestants,
as they delighted to call themselves until of late, that their
clergy differed altogether from the *' Roman Priest.'* Those
of us who are old enough, like the present writer, to remem-
ber the religious education even of the " fifties,** know how
the notion of the clergyman was, at Its highest (and it was
with this that I was myself most familiar), that of a person who
shared in what we called "the Apostolical Succession." But
what that meant was a further and more difficult matter to de-
cide. The one thing that men were careful to emphasize was
that there was a " great difference " between an Anglican and
a Roman priest. Most High-Church clergymen found it neces-
sary to fall back on this fact, lest their people should turn
round upon them and say, "Oh! then you are leading us on
towards Rome." As late as the " eighties " I remember hearing
an Anglican bishop, considered to be as High as any in the
whole Anglicail community, preach in South Africa on the
Priesthood, and lay tremendous emphasis on the assertion " not
like the Roman priest, coming between man and his Maker." A
fellow-clergyman remarked to me afterwards that he had thought
that at any rate there was no difference between Rome and
ourselves on the subject of the priesthood, however we might
differ on other subjects. Probably the bishop would have
agreed to some extent in private, but have pleaded that it was
necessary to soften things down in public.
A SACERDOTAL MINISTRY.
Now the High Churchmen have fought this battle of the
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368 Since the Condemna tion of Anglican Orders. [Dec,
sacerdotal character of the ministry of the Church of England,
and have fought it well, so far as fighting goes. They have been
instilling it into their flocks from childhood upwards, that that
ministry is a sacrificing priesthood. None but those who have
taken part in the fray can form an adequate conception of the
obloquy through which they have fought their way, and the
patience and zeal which they have displayed. Their whole lives
have, in many instances, been given up to this desire to in-
troduce the conception of a sacrificial priesthood amongst their
people. I am speaking not so much of the present generation
as of a past. The present generation is, I am persuaded, en-
tering upon a new, dangerous, and probably successful descent
towards an agreement to be more tolerant. We, of the last
generation, were not tolerant; we had a faith for which to
work and die, and we deliberately laid aside all chances of pre-
ferment for the sweet sense of sacrifice on behalf of some
great dogmatic truths.
The result of this conflict for the maintenance of belief in
a sacerdotal ministry is that the new generation have entered
into the reward of past labors, and at the same time into spe-
cial dangers. The burden of the priesthood has its dangers as
well as its graces ; and where the graces of the true priest-
hood are wanting, the dangers besetting those who suppose
themselves to possess it are insurmountable. The idea of the
''haughty prelate" is taken from real life; and not less so the
idea of the proud priest. But what are to be thought of the
dangers of the idea of priesthood, where there is no system, no
thought, of obedience such as exists in the Catholic Church?
When vestments and all the accoutrements of the priest are
assumed, and the whole thing is tolerated, and, since the Lin-
coln judgment, excused as meaning nothing except to those
who choose to attach a meaning to these trappings other
than that of prettiness — when there is not the same call
for heart-searchings as to the responsibilities incurred, as
was once the case when the enterprise was a new one — any one
can see that there is not the same likelihood of attention be-
ing paid to a decision from the rest of Western Christendom
(to put it gently) as when the whole enterprise was connected
more closely with a consciousness that all eyes were upon the
initiators and that corresponding conduct was expected. This
latter situation is apt to create a softer soil for the geptle but
firm speech of such a Pontifif as Leo XIII.
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i897-] Since the Condemnation of Anglican Orders, 369
AUTHORITY DISCARDED.
Further, it must be remembered that the whole idea of
authority has suffered depravation during the last quarter of a
century. There are few who have not heard such utterances
as one that the present writer himself heard from the lips of
an Oxford undergraduate, who was confronted with the fact
that no bishop agreed with certain of his Ritualistic notions.
** Oh, bother the bishops ! '* was his only reply. This simply
and really expresses the general attitude of the leading spirits
among the forward party. Probably, with some, cbntempt has
never enthroned itself in their hearts more imperiously than
since the encyclical of the Lambeth Conference, when one
hundred and ninety-four bishops, who profess to be the teach-
ers of the Anglican communion, succeeded in wrapping up
their thoughts on the subjects that are trying members of the
Church of England so successfully that one is irresistibly re-
minded of the " stone " for the " bread." But the whole life
of the High-Church clergymen of the Church of England is
perfectly unique in this matter of authority. Where in the
whole of Christendom have the clergy such power to order
the services of the church as they please ? A Catholic priest
could only stare with amazement at the liberty these clergy,
men possess to pursue their own way. I do not mean that
they can always get their way, as the laity have at least the
power of the purse. But there are many things in which the
High-Church laity feel they have no right to interfere, and the
bishop is the last person whom the clergy would think of con-
sulting. As, for instance, as to whether what they believe to be
the Blessed Sacrament shall be reserved, and when and where —
matters such as these are actually left to the individual clergyman !
Now, all this proceeds from, and at the same time en-
courages, a tone of thought, a habit of mind, which would
naturally unfit its possessor to listen with any ordinary docil-
ity to such an utterance as the Bull Apostolicce Curce, Yet
these are the people who, if any, would naturally lead the
way in giving fitting attention to such an utterance. The
rest of the English people either quite agree with the Holy
Father that Anglican clergymen are not sacrificing priests,
because they consider there is nothing of the sort under the
New Covenant, or else they view the matter with profound in-
difference because they have in their own judgment got beyond
the religion of ceremonies and sacrificial conceptions into the re-
VOL. LXVI.— 24
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370 Since the Condemnation Of Anglican Orders. [Dec.^
ligion of the spirit, or because they see no sufficient evidence of
the existence of a personal God, to whom sacrifice need be offered*
DEFECT OF THEOLOGICAL LEARNING.
Another point to be borne in mind is this, viz., that Angli-
can clergymen have no treatises on such subjects as De Sacra-
mentis in genere, or concerning Holy Orders, to which they can
turn as containing the authorized teaching of their church*
Many of the highest churchmen amongst them know well the
Catholic arguments for a sacrificial priesthood and (certainly in
the last generation) have taught their people well on this sub-
ject. They are themselves thoroughly and deeply convinced
that there is a sacrificial priesthood in the New Covenant; but
as to the point where that priesthood is to be found, they
are not nearly as well grounded in the very preliminaries of
this question. They have not really studied it; they have
no settled principles on which to proceed ; they do not even,
as a rule, concern themselves with it. Yet it is strange that
they should not. For theirs is not the position of a Catholic.
They cannot say they have Orders because they are in the
church. They have always, of late years, set to work to prove
that they are in the church because they have Orders. A few,
of late, have attempted the Catholic argument. But the proof
that the Church of England possesses the four marks of the
Catholic Church does not really " catch on " ; you find people
really falling back on the false theology of the consolation,
*^ Well, we are sure we have Orders, and that is enough." The
historical question, therefore, as to their Orders is vital to their
case ; and it is therefore strange that they are not better
posted up in that question. Moreover, it is necessary for them
to maintain the utterly un-Catholic and illogical position that
they can be as sure of a particular sacrament having been
rightly consummated as that there are sacraments at all. For
they cannot fall back on the Divine protection afforded to the
church, since this would be to assume the point at issue, viz.,
that they are in the church.
Again, and in this I can only speak of what was the case
until a few years ago, with any certainty — but recent events
seem to show that the state of things is still the same — noth-
ing has been so iterated and reiterated as the assertion, ** I
know I am a priest, for I feel it. I experience the effects. My
people feel that the sacraments I administer are realities'* —
which is simply the logic of the Methodist applied to the
subject of the sacraments.
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1897.] Since the Condemnation of Anglican Orders. 371
the condemnation of anglican orders.
Such was the state of things when the question of reunion
made a fresh start. From circumstances which need not be
entered into here, the subject of Anglican Orders came to the
front in connection with that of Reunion. It was not the logi-
cal order, but it became a matter of importance to settle the
question, both because it had been pressed on Rome by cer-
tain Anglicans and because the matter had awakened a special
interest in France. Some French writers of conspicuous ability
were (not unnaturally, as it seems to the present writer) misled
into thinking that the question had not been authoritatively
settled before, and, which was still more natural, they had no
adequate conception of the real hatred for the Holy Mass
which characterized the "Reformers'* of the sixteenth century.
I have before me a letter from one of these distinguished
persons, which shows how he considers that a truer realization
of this last fact would have supplied them with a key to the
solution of the question, which only came into their hands
when the Bull Apostolicce Curce was promulgated. One has only
to compare the Sarum Missal with the Book of Common,
Prayer, and the animus of the compilers of this latter must be
evident at once.
Into this confused state of things came the Bull Apostolicce
CurcB. It showed that the question of Anglican Orders had
already been irrevocably decided with a care that left nothing
to be desired. It reiterated the simple principle that a sacra-
ment must signify what it effects. It laid down the law that
the " form," or words closely connected with the matter, must
contain the signification of that which is effected by the Sacra-
ment of Orders, and that this signification could only be ac-
complished by the mention of either the Order itself or the
grace and power of the particular Order conferred. The An-
glican Prayer-book, that is to say, the " form " in the Ordinal,
did not comply with this condition — ergo^ the Orders conferred
by it were null and void.
ARCHBISHOP BENSON'S REPLY.
No sooner was the Bull published than the Archbishop of
Canterbury hastened to Hawarden, Mr. Gladstone's seat, hav-
ing at once published a short critique of the Bull, in which
he claimed for the Church of England all that Orders could
procure for the Church of Rome, without, however, mentioning
what those Orders do effect. As no one was ever able to dis-
cover what the archbishop believed the Church of England did
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372 Since the Condemnation of Anglican Oi^dea's. [Dec,
teach as to the power and grace of Holy Orders, this was not
calculated to advance matters, or to clear the atmosphere. A
clergyman of the Church of England, who knows that communion
through and through, told the present writer last year that
Archbishop Benson believed in the Sacrifice of the Mass, but
he thought it right and due to truth to withdraw his statement
on the following day. However, the archbishop had struck
the key-note which was to be followed, and having done this,
owing in part (it is thought) to the excitement produced by
the Bull, he breathed his last at the very moment when, ac-
cording to some, he was receiving the absolution of the Church
of England. It was in the public service, and many Anglicans
have considered that the power of the keys is then exercised
over the congregation in general and appropriated by those
who have faith so to do. We may well believe that the good
archbishop was making his act of contrition, and thus fortified
passed happily to his particular judgment.
IGNORATIO ELENCni OF THE ARCHBISHOP OF YORK.
The Archbishop of York soon took up the note struck by
his brother of Canterbury. At the Church Congress at Shrews-
bury nothing less than scorn was poured on all sides upon
the "absurd** Bull. The archbishop, in the opening sermon,
spoke of the present hierarchy of the Church of England as
the successors even of St. Thomas of Canterbury and St. An-
selm — of the saint who in dying refused to say that he owed
the spiritualities of his see to the king, and of the saint who
braved another king's displeasure to obtain the Pall from Rome,
and said that to " abjure the Vicar of Christ " — speaking of the
successor of Peter — "is to abjure Christ.** This tone of high and
mighty contempt, resembling too much the shrill shriek of felt
weakness, has been adopted on a large scale by the most ad-
vanced section. " Absurd ! *' " What ignorance ! " " The whole
thing is folly.** " What a pity the Pope allowed himself to be so
misled ! ** And not a few — a fact I desire to emphasize as show-
ing the lack of steady thought on the subject, — not a few have
said, " Well, whatever uncertainty I had before about the posi-
tion of the Church of England has now gone. It is plain that
Rome is not to be trusted.** You hear it also said, " Every
one knows that the Pope himself was favorably inclined towards
Atiglican Orders ; but his advisers were too many for him."
A Catholic hardly knows how to contain himself at these ab-
surdities. It is useless to protest ; he knows nothing. " W^e
are the people, we who are behind the scenes, we who have
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spent our fortnight or month in Rome — we know all about the
influences brought to bear/' Yes, ** influences " is a, good word ;
it settles everything, and the more so as it is impossible to de-
fine, and still more impossible to substantiate the "influence."
The Archbishop of York also started another line of de-
fence, whkh has been adopted by every High-Church writer,
without exception, who has dealt with the Bull. There is a
logical trick, whereby we carefully prove what has never been
denied, or disprove what has never been stated. I call it a
trick, but I do not thereby mean to impute motives. It is,
however, a positive fact that each Anglican writer, one after
the other, has fallen into this same confusion of thought.
The Archbishop of York spoke of Rome condemning her
own Orders unintentionally, cutting off the branch on which
she sat herself. For there are Ordinals in which one of the
two "Papal" conditions of an adequate "form" is lacking —
one of the two. If we ask, is there any one in which both
conditions are lacking, there is silence — no instance has been
given, and therefore no answer has been made to the Bull. One
would have imagined that such contemptuous dealing with a
document of such vast importance, which irrevocably deter-
mines the attitude of Western Christendom, to* say the least,
towards Anglican Orders, — I say, one would have thought that
this high and mighty talk would have some careful argument
at its back. But no ; this one fatal flaw, to speak of no others,
runs through all the High-Church answers so far. I will men-
tion only the Guardian, the Church TimeSy Rev. F. W. Puller's
tract, A Treatise on the Bull (Church Historical Society), the
Church Quarterly Review (whose article is supposed to be by the
Professor of Ecclesiastical History at Oxford), a published lec-
ture by the Professor of Ecclesiastical History at Cambridge, a
tract by Mr. Hall with Mr. Puller's imprimatur, and last, but
not least, the "Answer of the Archbishops" to the Bull; these,
one and all, split on the rock of ignoratio elenchi. The arch-
bishops' pamphlet is certainly a remarkable little work — remark-
able both because it is probably the first time that the two
archbishops have sent out a document of this kind at all, and
because their graces have managed to mystify everybody, their
own co-religionists included, on the all-important fact of the
subject, viz., their teaching as to the Sacrifice of the Eucharist.
The only thing that is quite clear is, that they do not teach the
doctrine of the Council of Trent. The Church of England, so
far as she is represented by her archbishops, is on the subject
of Sacrifice in manifest hereby.
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SILENCE OF THE LAMBETH CONFERENCE.
But the reception of this document is not less striking than
the document itself. A blank, significant silence concerning it
was observed by the Lambeth Conference. That conference, it
has been loudly asserted, is not a synod, nor a council ; it is
only a meeting of nearly two hundred bishops in conference.
In a report of the conference, the fact that the archbishops had
issued a document in answer to the Bull is stated, but no word
of praise, acceptance, or welcome is allowed to pass the por-
tals of that conference. The archbishops are not even thanked
for a document which is addressed to the Catholic bishops
throughout the globe, including, we suppose, the " Catholic
bishops in communion with the Church of England,'* as the
members of the Lambeth Conference call themselves, and
which they have distributed all over the earth. It is a sin-
gular situation. The efforts of the archbishops to "make
clear for all time " the doctrine of the Church of England are
not enthusiastically welcomed by those in communion therewith,
not even seconded by one word of gratitude ! And it is an open
secret that some of the most leading divines of the High-Church
party demurred to some statements in the MS. which seemed
to exclude the doctrine of the Objective Presence, and that
some phrases were in consequence rendered more vague and
more comprehensive.
THE ADVANCE GUARD REPULSED.
Meanwhile the Bull has had the result of bringing many of
the extreme section, most in sympathy with Rome, into closer
amity with those less advanced than themselves. They will
henceforth pretend to be at one, and possibly at length
succeed: I use the word "pretend" advisedly, but rather from
a Catholic point of view than from their own. For it is a
mere pretence, that those who teach that our Lord is to be
adored immediately on consecration and as long as the conse-
crated elements remain, and those who teach that there is a
Virtual Presence, but that too precise definitions as to the effect
of consecration even to the extent under consideration are to
be avoided, — it is, I say, a mere pretence to say that these
people are one in their faith. They are only proceeding to
deprave the meaning of another sacred word, viz., unity. It is
a healthier sign when there are men, as there used to be, who
will suffer all rather than not proclaim the truth, and risk all
possible disturbance sooner than let it be thought that such
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matters are relegated to the region of opinion, which is what
this new platform of unity really means. Those who were at
Oxford in the •* sixties " will remember how Dr. Pusey wrote
to Professor Stanley (as he was then), saying that he and those
who symbolized with him had never worked for mere tolerance ;
and those who have read Newman's wonderful lecture, in his
*^ Difficulties felt by Anglicans," on " The Church movement not
in the direction of a party," will feel that the old moorings
are being forsaken. Dr. Pusey himself once called on
Archbishop Tait and pointed out to him what disturbance his
grace was fomenting by his policy in regard to the Athanasian
Creed, which the archbishop would have liked to see disused.
The archbishop replied that it was Dr. Pusey who made the
•disturbance by his resistance. If he would only make for
peace, the thing would be done ; the Creed would disappear.
But Dr. Pusey publicly proclaimed that his friendship with the
Bishop of Salisbury (Moberley) was at an end after the line
taken by the bishop on the Athanasian Creed ; and some of
us were privileged to hear Canon Liddon's fine sermon from
the university pulpit in which he announced that he should be
obliged, so to speak, to cut the painter, if that Creed were
touched. In like manner, some of us can remember how, when
the same eloquent preacher was appointed Canon of St. Paul's,
he let his friends know that on some ritual matters he was
prepared for give and take, but that if the doctrine of the Objec-
tive Presence in the Eucharist seemed to be assailed or obscured,
no thought of peace or false unity must stand in the way of
open resistance and real practical protest.
THE BULL DISSIPATES FALSE NOTIONS OF UNITY.
But the Bull Apostolicce Curce has supervened on an already
-debilitated system in the Church of England, and there is a
tremendous rally round her — for the moment. What wonder?
The apologetics of the Church of England have, of late, taken
a turn which might well prepare us for such a phenomenon.
In the beginning of the "Church Movement," as it is called,
men had not cleared their minds as to the meaning of the
Primacy of the See of Peter. There was hardly need to do so.
Of late, the apologists have become more definite. Take, for
instance, the literary career of the foremost apologist in one
line. Dr. Bright of Oxford. Compare his first edition of his
Church History with his recent writings. There was in that
-Earlier writing a certain deference, a reverence, something
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3/6 Since the Condemnation of Anglican Orders. [Dec,
almost approaching an enthusiasm for the See of Peter. Now
he has thrown in his lot with those who trace the very term
to an early copy (not forthcoming, nor ever mentioned by any
contemporary writer) of a romance. Compare, again, his edition
of the sermon of St. Leo the Great with the deliberate charges
of intentional dishonesty which he now brings against the same
saint. Or compare the tone of Mr. Puller's apologetic writings
with those of earlier Oxford writers belonging to the more ad-
vanced section of High Churchmen. It is as different as the poles
arc asunder from the tone of these latter. Although indulging
in a ritual which Cranmer, Ridley, and the rest of that crew
overthrew as incompatible with true Christianity, he is yet en-
gaged iu rehabilitating these hopeless Protestants. The old
respect and reverence and love for Rome is fast evaporating,,
and instead, the critical spirit has entered in and taken pos-
session — not the spirit of criticism in which every Catholic
feels himself at home, but that venturesome, rash, and over-
bold mind which has no living authority in prospect, to whom
conclusions are by anticipation submitted and sometimes even
rudely checked.
What wonder, I repeat, that the Bull should bring out the
disease that lurks within ? It is a priceless boon that false
notions pf unity can no longer be encouraged. It is well, too,,
on our side, that we should not be working on the ground of
false hopes. Whilst playing with friendly expressions, we
might have failed to bring our fellow-countrymen one inch
nearer the goal. We can now still use friendly expressions —
why should we not ? — but their bearing will not be mistaken.
We can now bear with misconceptions — what else could we
expect, when we consider the circumstances that preceded the
Bull? — but we can also do our best to remove them.
UNWARRANTED EXPECTATJONS FROM RUSSIA.
There is one other move on the part of the Church of Eng-
land which may have to play itself out, before the Bull will
have had its full effects. The way in which some of the au-
thorities have turned to the Russian Church is part and parcel
of the subject on which I have undertaken to write. The Rus-
sian authorities have been careful not to commit themselves,
but when an Archbishop of York arrives in their country with
a commendatory letter from the Prince of Wales to the Czar
of all the Russias, courtesies bordering on recognition are a
natural sequel. Nothing, however, was done, as a Russian.
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1897.] Since the Condemnation of Anglican Orders. 177
priest occupying an important po&ition informed me, which in
any way compromises the Russian Church on the question of
Anglican Orders. Some marks of respect, which in the West,
at any rate amongst CathoUcs, would be taken for something
approaching a recognition of a person's orders, can be indulged
in by a Russian ecclesiastic without meaning anything of the
kind. Indeed, the idea that what passed between the Archbishop
of York and certain ecclesiastics in Russia amounted to any
sort of judgment oh the validity of Anglican Orders, was
treated by a person in responsible position in Russia as noth-
ing less than an absurdity.
Nevertheless, the hopes of many an Anglican have undoubt-
edly been raised ; and since it is not unlikely that the political
atmosphere may favor seeming advances in the immediate
future, such hopes must be taken into account in our estimate
of the situation. The judgment passed upon the Church of
England by a Russian who has had the best means of forming
a judgment, was expressed to the present writer in the follow-
ing words : " The Church of England does not present the
features of a church ; she has no one, and no corporate body,
that can expound her teaching; she is a heap of heresies."
And this she certainly would be found to be, if ever questions
of doctrine came to be discussed. But, at present, one result
of the Bull has been that the eyes of the Anglicans have been
turned more ste?|dily than ever away from Rome and towards
the East.
THE QUESTION OF AUTHORITY PARAMOUNT.
Does, then, all this mean that England is further from
Rome since the promulgation of the Bull on Anglican Orders?
Will the distance between them go on widening and still
widening? Why should it? The question of Orders touches a
point in the Anglican system on which its supporters are
naturally sensitive to the last degree. In the case of those
who are so wedded to the system that it has become their all,
of course it acts as a throw-back to all hopes of reunion. But
in the case of those whose minds were, in any real sense, kept
open to the truth, the Bull only clears the air. And whether
these will be drawn into the fold, will depend, under God, on
the energy and loving kindness with which we explain its prin-
ciples, which they have so widely misunderstood, and above all,
on the extent to which we succeed in leading them to study
the question of authority.
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©HE IMMAGULAIPB ^ONGBPIPION.
I.
I he bronzed pool lay seething in the sun,
<Ancl o'er it as a mantle, stained foul,
hrmpoisoned slime its oilj qet-Work^ spun,
I he sFjadoWs round dark deepeqiqg lik,e a coWl.
II.
Breaking its slimy fetters, bursting, lo!
prom out the thraldom of t\\e ink,y deep,
<A stainless lily, white as dri\?en snoW —
i\ dreanr| of beauty from a troubled sleep.
Rev. William P. Cantwell.
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' Who is she that comet h forth as the morning risings fair as the moon, bright as the sun /"
—Canticles vi. 9.
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38o Unpublished Letters of Napoleon. [Dec,
UNPUBLISHED LETTERS OF NAPOLEON.
REV. GEORGE McDERMOT, C.S.P.
HE recent appearance of what are called the
** unpublished " * letters of Napoleon, covering
the period from the Consulate to the final close
of the Empire, has revived the interest in him
which idolaters will not let sleep. It is said
he reveals himself in these letters in a manner that places his
genius beyond what his greatest admirers had imagined, and
shows his character worse than his most bitter enemies could
have made it. So many and various estimates have been writ-
ten of his ability and disposition that these letters really en-
able one to form a fair judgment of both ; not so much by
what they actually disclose as from the fact that they can be
read into his published despatches and his acts, that in these
he is more in undress than in his published letters and his
acts. The acts could be softened down by explanations, while
the published letters were written with a regard for appearances.
In these and in his acts France was his object — France alone
and her glory. Whatever ill-disposed persons might say about
his ambition, it was all calumny. He was fond of using the
word "calumny," he was also fond of using the word "out-
rage " ; he was so sensitive — this embodied will, so affectionately
simple this inexorable intellect.
A MAN ABOVE CONSCIENCE.
What appeared to be ambition was the knowledge that
he could do more for the power and glory of France than any
other man. It was not his fault that he was so gifted. Destiny
had a work for him. By him were to be realized the ideas
of Caesar and of Charlemagne. To do this was his mission, and
all antecedent history only led to this as its culminating point.
What would be crimes In another were duties with him.
The moralities that are necessary to others were but expedi-
encies in his case. It is good for men to be guided by con-
science, because stupidity is the inheritance of mankind. Their
stupidity is so great that if there were no individual con-
science men would run headlong into all kinds of folly.
* Intdites.
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1897.] Unpublished Letters of Napoleon. 381
Society would be impossible* But for him, the reformer of
society and the organizer of universal peace, there could be
no such faculty — it would only be a fatal embarrassment.
" Ney knows as much about my affairs as the youngest drum-
mer-boy in my army," expressed what he thought of the mar-
shals and generals who could handle masses of men with a skill
only less than his own. This self-confidence, this profound ego-
tism, is not exaggerated. It appears in these letters, or rather in
the history of his life seen in the strong light they cast upon it.
WHERE IS THE TRUE NAPOLEON?
Such an estimate as we have outlined here could not be
gathered from the opinions of writers. No two of them agree.
With some he is a domestic man of strong affections, possessing
ordinary talent for affairs, but military talents of the highest
order. With others he has no affections except such as inter-
est approves, he is an intriguer without a particle of political
talent, and his successful campaigns were due to the frenzy of
his troops and the ability of his lieutenants. The Revolution
made France an army, and he got hold of the army in the
field when other men had made it accustomed to victory. The
unenrolled army — which was the nation — was in a fever of
anxiety to march to glory and plunder, and the army under
arms was the best training depot for those enthusiasts. Re-
cently he has figured as a devoted child of the church whom
circumstances forced into opposition to her authority. The op-
position was more apparent than real, we are informed, for he
restored religion in France and died in the faith. He was hon-
est to bluntness or a great dissimulator, according to the point
of view ; he is a man of genius and a silly child combined ; he
writes with the terse clearness of Caisar, he writes like a puffer
of quack medicines.
It is clear, however, that an obscure foreigner, educated at
the king's expense, led her armies at an age when most men
are still in college, obtained supreme power as the magistrate
of the people before the earliest prime, seized supreme power
as the master of the people in the first years of his prime, and
that he held in this power an empire which, if you count the
tributary kings and nations, was bounded by the English Chan-
nel and the Mediterranean, the Atlantic and the inhospitable
regions of eastern Europe. All the unflattering- estimates of
his ability may be put aside in the face of these facts. Noth-
ing can account for them in a man who began without one of
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382 Unpublished Letters of Napoleon. [Dec,
those aids which favor the rise of men in life — nothing but the
greatest genius. The quality of that genius is another thing,
and so is his character.
CONSISTENT INCONSISTENCY.
There are undoubtedly what appear to be great inconsis-
tencies in his character. We have letters to his brothers when
they sat on thrones, tragic in their pathos ; we have cruel-
ties to young and old, the great and the mean, directed and
sustained with a cold ferocity which shows that policy, not
passion, inspired every one of them. This devoted child of the
church had more of her prelates and priests in prison at one
time than there have been under any European sovereign since
the Tenth Persecution. He lied like a Cretan, and only told the
truth, if it can be called the truth, when he intended to de-
ceive. He had no more notion of personal honor than a pick-
pocket, and yet he had the hardihood to write to Fouch^,
'* Shut up Doctor Mayer, to teach him not to preach sentiments
against honor." He had no more morals than a monkey. " In-
vite Madame Talleyrand," he writes to her husband, ** with
four or five women, to meet him." This is the plan to enmesh
the Prince of the Asturias — one as old as Cataline, one as old
as Pandar, one fully illustrated in the pages of Gil Bias. This
ally of oppressed nations made the proposal to Pitt that he
would send him the United Irishmen then in France, if Pitt
would expel the ^migr^s from England.
For all that he is a very interesting study. All the incon-
sistencies may be referred to one root in his moral nature, his
over-mastering egotism. He spoke of the old aristocracy with
a furious scorn, but he was most anxious to have them about
him in the Consular court, and later in the Imperial court.
Fame was the breath of his nostrils ; everything he did and
said was said and done with an eye to effect. He was an
actor like the Richard III. of Shakspere, and one naturally
wonders that the unpublished letters did not preserve more of
the actor's' perpetual consciousness of an audience. Still, as he
saw things so clearly, like flashes of intuition, and since with
him to see was to execute, to perceive to order, it may be that
the rapidity of resolve hurried him out of the consciousness
that the grand tier of posterity looked down upon the foot-
lights. An actor may, to some extent, lose himself in his part
though the audience is before him.
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i897-] Unpublished Letters of Napoleon. 383
A MASTER OF MACHIAVELLIAN MORALITY.
We have in these letters a cynicism of active judgment that
realizes and goes beyond the conception of Machiavelli. There
is a good deal of disquisition in the *• Prince." The atrocious
policy by which an incarnate intelligence is to make a state
prosperous pays morality the compliment of recognizing and
even debating with it. It may be contrary to morality to mur-
der one's rivals in order to secure the throne, to make away
not only with every opponent who has shown himself, but with
any one that may possibly be an opponent ; yet it is the only
way that the prince who has acquired power can preserve it.
This is Machiavelli ; but Napoleon writes to General Clarke :
"Shoot the burgomaster." He hears that an actor is dan-
gerous; he tells Fouch6 to have him whipped, ''as all this
riflfraflF deserves when it meddles with serious things." It
did not do for an actor to engage in politics, and it would be
waste of time to argue with a " difficult " burgomaster.
lO VICTIS HAD FOR HIM NO MEANING.
He grows upon us in some fascinating way with that fore-
head of his, which recalls Cleopatra's "broad-fronted Caesar."
He was in authority always. When, an unattached lieutenant
of artillery, he sees the rabble before the Tuileries, he would
sweep them away with grape-shot. Then the king 'comes out
on a balcony with a red cap and the canaille are frantic with
enthusiasm. " That man is lost ! " says the young lieutenant
unattached, at sight of the red cap. It makes him oblivious of
every memory, of the sixty kings, ** that man's " predecessors, the
procession so grand and mournful that passes through the
vicissitudes of France : the long-haired Merovingians going back
to Rome, the house of Pepin building again the Roman Empire,
the keen Hugh Capet fashioned in the iron of the fqudal age,
the magnificent royalty of Valois, the soldierly qualities of the
fourth Henry, the pride and splendor of the Great King. That
man is lost, and so the young Corsican turns on his heel with
no pity. Louis should have seen across the foul heads that
yelled their enthusiasm to the man who could save him and
the monarchy, but because, poor king ! he lacked a gift like
omniscience he was lost, and with the epitaphic comment to be
written " He deserves to be lost."
This habit of authority ingrained we have in his attack on
the Directory on the i8th Brumaire An VII., "fogarious" month
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384 Unpublished Letters of Napoleon. [Dec,
of the new era, or, in Christian language, 9th of October, 1799.
He was their officer, their servant, this General Bonaparte, but
in the midst of his staff, when Bottot, the secretary of Barras,
comes in, he fulminates against the triumvirate, privately sig-
nailing to Bottot that the fires were not intended for his mas-
ter. Fancy this man of thirty years of age, hatched in a Medi-
terranean island a day or two after it came into the possession
of France, brought up as a pensioner of the murdered king, de-
livering himself in this way to his employers, even though they
were only Directors of the Rousseauian republic, of the unclothed
goddess of reason and the bedlam rout that worshipped her or
it ; fancy this high comedy : "What have you done with that
France which I left to you prosperous and glorious?'* And so
on in anticipative Bulwer-Lyttonese.
We have ^ome excellent fooling some five weeks later when
he walks to the bar of the Councils at St. Cloud and tells
them they are treading on a volcano, but that he and his
brothers-in-arms will assist them. But a grand transition ; " I am
calumniated, I am compared to Cromwell, to Caesar.*' This is
said in a rambling, broken manner ; he poses as the honest sol-
dier, a plain, blunt man, "not accustomed to public speaking,"
as the great bores sublimely say at English dinners, as if this
excused them for ruining men's digestions. It may be that he
had a difficulty in speaking, for we give him the benefit of the
possibility; since there were like exhibitions of a halting de-
livery and disjointed rhetoric in the stormy scenes that pre-
ceded the Consulate ; but allowing for the possibility, we observe
that on this very occasion he could storm away, if not like the
Titan Mirabeau, still like the Napoleon of later days, whose
tantrums make his staff and his court look like whipped school-
boys. Some one asked him, would he swear to the Constitution
of the year III. " The Constitution ! " he cries; "you violated
it. . • . All parties by turns have appealed to the Constitu-
tion, and all parties by turns have violated it. As we cannot
preserve the Constitution, let us, at least, preserve liberty and
equality." It reminds one of Cromwell's retort when Sir Harry
Vane appealed to Magna Charta : " Sir Harry Vane ! Sir Harry
Vane ! — may the Lord deliver me from Sir Harry Vane ! " All
this rhodomontade is quoted by historians as proof of superla-
tive resource, but the best part of their argument was in
Cromwell's army and the devotion of Napoleon's soldiers to
their general.
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i897-] Unpublished Letters of Napoleon. 385
HIS APPRECIATION OF THE *' GRAND MANNER."
It seems idle to suppose, as some writers do, that on such
occasions Napoleon was taken by surprise ; for if one looks at
this particular occasion itself, we have proof of the direct con-
trary. All his friends feared he had ruined himself, that the
Directory was too strong; he was quite confident that before
the day was out they wopld see he had not. He was right,
for on that night the Directory was at an end, and he presi-
dent of the three consuls ; but we are slightly running before
the hare. His accesses of fury were not necessarily simula-
tions of passion, but there might have been something stagey
in them. Probably the difference between him and the poten-
tates and the great aristocracy of France, about whose bearing
in all fortunes memoirs of the time tell so much, is that he
lacked their "grand manner." He undoubtedly admired the
manner and insisted on the observance of it in the relations
of the sovereigns to himself. If they failed in one point of it,
the occupation of a capital and the plunder of ;,picture-galleries
and pawn-offices would follow.* How he abused the aristocracy
when it boycotted his court after its return under the Empire !
The ingrates, the paupers, the traitors ! It does not seem he
feared those splendid nobles who had fled from the Revolution,
but he knew as a body they had done cruel things with the
grace that accompanied their kindest acts, and that any one
of them would have bowed his neck under the guillotine as if
he were bending before his queen.
The conspiracy of the Consulate sfiows we were right in not
attributing the rambling speech of Napoleon to confusion.
Cromwell, when not mouthing from the Old Testament, splut-
tered like a player who forgets his cue and rants the wrong
part ; but he always found the cue before his close in some
slaying of the Chanaanite, or in a picture of the " Man," that is,
Charles I., as a wicked king to be cut off. Napoleon had forced
an issue notwithstanding the broken speech, and as if he said
with Marc Antony : Let it work. The evening of the day saw
the Council of Elders decreeing that the Directory was at an
end, and a provisional government of three consuls should be
appointed. So far so good, but the Council of Five Hundred
had the initiative and it was opposed to Napoleon, though its
president was his brother Lucien. Lucien had stood loyally to
* We think this infamous system of robbery, which did not spare the deposits of the poor,
began under Napoleon with the Monte di Pietd of Milan. This may be the revolutionary
meaning of equality for rich and poor.
VOL. LXVI.— 25
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386 Unpublished Letters of Napoleon. [Dec,
his brother in the angry scene of that day, when deputies
from every part of the house shouted " We will have no dicta-
tor, no soldiers in the sanctuary of the laws." When Napoleon
looked uncertain, his soldiers from the door cried out : " Let us
save our general ! " He was rescued, of course, and the defeated
council clamorously demanded that a vote of outlawry should
be passed against him. Lucien refused to put the vote: "I
cannot outlaw my own brother." It Vould seem that, although
classic models were favored in those days, they were not always
followed. Lucien, however, had the patriotic virtue to summon
the council for that evening. He invited thirty members, all
supporters of Napoleon, and so the act of the Council of
Elders was ratified, and another constitution came to light. Is
it apologetic wit that describes the thirty members as a minority
of the Five Hundred ?
When the three consuls met, Sieyfes said they should have
a president. "Who but the general should take the chair?" re-
plied Ducos. In a moment Siey^s learned he had not a particle
of influence. Napoleon stated his views of administration with
the authority of a master. It is from this year VIII. of the
new era, of the Romme Calendar, that the unpublished letters
begin.
napoleon's estimate of mankind.
Caesar Borgia in the flesh may have been the Prince that
took a disquisitive shape in the pages of Machiavelli ; but
neither shadow nor substance, in our poor opinion, approaches
within leagues the imperious will and fell intellect that in-
formed the short, somewhat clumsy-looking person called
Napoleon Bonaparte, or Buonaparte. If we find any more
marked difference between him and other great and wicked
men it is in his creed that mankind was stupid to idiocy.
Whatever ability any one possessed was instrumental and de-
partmental. This cold intelligence acted the opinion that the
mind of man was a nervous force more active of more useful
in some than others. The automata were only good when he
pulled the strings. Yet this unsympathetic genius possessed an
influence over his soldiers that Wolsey 's word " magnetic " fails
to convey. He was their god, in him France was an irresisti-
ble might to which coalitions of kings and the powers of
nature opposed themselves in vain. In his turn he cared for
their wants, but not for their lives.
They are nothing, no one is anything to him ; success is
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1 8970 Unpublished Letters of Napoleon. 387
everything. As we have said, these letters remove obscurities
froin his acts, and send a new meaning into grandiloquent pas-
sages of addresses and despatches. "I judge by my judg-
ment and reason," he wrote, " and not by the opinion of
others"; and so strong and constant this confidence in his
judgment that he trusted no one with his policy or his military
plans. He directed his ministers in everything, from the prose-
cution of a murderer to the details of a treaty with a great
power. He directed the press, composed articles, invented
news, inspired libels, criticised the opera, and sang his own
praises. Yet he suspected independent praise as though it were
irony. He boasted he could teach the whole College of Car*
dinals theology. We need not be surprised, for the French of
that day had a better gtiide to truth than Revelation, just as
every Protestant plough-boy can expound you the Scriptures
with more precision than the church. This one consul of
three had the post-office as open as a book. If a general
entertains at dinner a guest that he ought not, he learns that
the consul knows it. A correspondent of some foreign prince
receives letters, he is described in the choice vocabulary of the
consul pending measures for change of air or residence. If a
good-for-nothing printer visits Paris instead of publishing his
folly at Marseilles, he becomes aware that he can neither
sneeze, eat, nor drink without the consul's knowledge. Better
the white glare of Marseilles than the stifling atmosphere of
Paris.
AN IMPERIAL DETECTIVE SYSTEM.
The emperor had little to learn from the consul. His reach
was wider, but his tactics were the same as in France. No
king could say a word that was not reported, and what " pigs "
and " dastards " fell on the imperial paper when he wrote about
them ! His spy system all over Europe was as perfect as in
France; and on his campaigns he held the thread of every
movement as if he sat by the side of Fouch6. Nay, he could
send from half way across Europe information to that minis-
ter. These argus eyes were everywhere. At the same time
his police system was not to blunder over unnecessary things,
for he wrote: "The art of the police is not to see that which
is useless for it to see." . He could also write, " Arrest so and so,
and imprison him for so long '* ; this, of course, when the police
thought it was " useless " " to see " so and so. What men of
constitutional experiences must admire about all. this, was its
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388 Unpublished Letters of Napoleon. [Dec,
indifference to forms. It was a step in advance or backward
from the formalism of the Revolution. The patriots of that
time took away your life under careful forms. It was as
tenacious of them as Tiberius in his respect for the methods
of the senate. Both attained their end as effectually as if they
violated them.
It was for centuries in Europe the practice to consider the
Grand Turk was above the usages which guided the intercourse
of nations. Ambassadors went to Constantinople very much
as policemen go into a burglars' haunt, with life in their
hands. The privileges of an ambassador were nothing in the
eyes of Napoleon. " I am master in my own house." A recent
writer describes this as magnificent ; we have heard the same
about the seizure of the Duke d'Enghien in a friendly terri-
tory and his assassination at Vincennes, but he makes a cor-
rect criticism of these recently collected letters when he
describes their style as that of command. They at times pos-
sess a severe eloquence which may show the influence of
Caesar's notes '' from the seat of war/' that most admirable
combination of the official despatch for the present informa-
tion of the Roman war office, as it were, with the ^military
report to guide those who were to succeed him in the com-
mand.
He gives an idea of how a despatch to a minister should
be written by any official, from an ambassador down to an ex-
aminer; that it "should try to seize the minister's intention
and not to make epigrams." His abuse of every one, from
the pope to a wretched spy, is unsparing, and sometimes comi-
cal enough, as when he says that Fouch6 has " a spoiled head,"
and that General Morio " is a kind of ass that I despise." His
brother Lucien is " nothing but a fool," Madame de Stael is
*' a " — the worst meaning that can be put upon coquine,
in fact. There is another word for her that even the French
editor suppresses. The next compliment that we shall refer to
is not amusing : " The pope is a furious madman, and he must
be shut up." And the pope was shut up ; but he went back to
Rome, and Napoleon went to Elba and thence to St. Helena,
from whose eyrie he could look out into the waters that had
no shore-line, and reflect that beyond them the world went on
as if he had never come to disturb the reverence for religion,
the laws by which " stupid " men express their belief in the
supremacy of conscience.
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1 897-] National Catholic Teacher^ Institutes. 389
NATIONAL CATHOLIC TEACHERS' INSTITUTES.
'HE National Catholic Institute movement has had
a marvellous growth during the two years of
its existence. The regular vacation institutes
of the second year were more than double in
number the ones held the first year. The
number of teachers in attendance was greater, and, in several
cases, they were representatives from remote missions. The
assistance and encouragement given by archbishops, bishops,
and priests indicated the attitude of the church toward such
work, and the Masses offered for it, the novenas said, all told
that the movement had taken deep hold of the hearts of the
teachers, and had received the approbation and blessing of the
hierarchy of the church.
The first vacation institute for 1897 began June 28, in
Burlington, Vt., in the assembly room of St. Mary's Academy.
Four orders of nuns were in attendance, two of which were
from Canada. Right Rev. J. S. Michaud, D.D., began with an
address outlining the work for the week, the relation of the
institute to the teacher, and of both to the child and to God,
and closed by welcoming the visiting sisters, the institute, and
the instructors to the Burlington diocese. The aged bishop.
Right Rev. L. De Goesbriand, D.D., visited the institute twice
during the week and addressed the teachers on both occa-
sions.
The Burlington institute was followed by others in Beatty,
Wilkes-Barre, Scranton, Pa., New York, Rochester, Springfield,
Fitchburg, Providence, Hartford, Putnam, Willimantic, and
Chicago. At each institute the opening address, given by a
bishop or a priest, was of sufficient worth to compensate the sis-
ters for the toil and trouble incurred in being present. Another
prominent feature of the work of each week was the Christian
doctrine lesson, not on what to teach, but how to teach the
children the great truths contained in the little catechism. It
was a revelation to many to see a priest at the black-board,
illustrating methods of teaching and making the application to
lessons in the catechism. How to correlate the Christian
doctrine work with all the other work of school and home, how
to utilize nature study, literature, art, music, and history, in
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390 National Catholic Teachers' Institutes. [Dec,
making stronger and better the work in the catechism classes,
was brought out clearly in this department of the work.
Rochester and Chicago were graded institutes. In the
Rochester institute, besides the Christian doctrine work, special
attention was given to English, drawing, and nature study.
There were three instructors for the department of English,
three for drawing, and three for nature study. Primary work,
geography, mathematics, and music will be given special atten-
tion in 1898. In the Chicago institute the departments made
prominent were Christian doctrine, primary work, drawing,
nature study, geography, and history. Mathematics, English,
and music will receive special attention next year. In the
other institutes, where single sessions were held, certain groups
of subjects were made prominent, as in the graded institutes.
The body of teachers now organized into an institute faculty
for the purpose of establishing and conducting institutes for
the teachers in our Catholic schools, is second to no other such
organization in the country. The worth of their work has
been tested and the results are sufficient evidence of their
fitness. Engagements are now made for institutes for 1898 in
Wilkes-Barre, Beatty, Rochester, New York, Chicago, St. Louis,
Providence, Ogdensburg, Burlington, Springfield, Fitchburg,
Hartfprd, Scranton, and several other cities.
The educational value of having members of different
orders meet together as teachers is recognized by all, and by
none more so than by the teachers themselves. They earnestly
desire union and unity in their work. The kindly telegrams
sent from institute to institute, carrying heartfelt greetings
from one meeting to another, were evidences of the interest they
take in each other's work, and of the desire that in educational
matters they should all be one.
Expressions voicing desires were often heard during the
last days of an institute, such as that we might all meet again,
that teachers coming from different schools and different sec-
tions of country brought to such meetings the trend of educa-
tional thought from their own localities, and thus each contri-
buted to the common good and gained for herself new ideas
from others. Another lesson plainly exemplified by these great
educational meetings is that the one who receives the most
benefit is the one who comes with the intention of contributing
from her treasures something of educational wealth to others,
giving freely and generously for God and humanity. The spirit
of the movement has permeated our teachers in such a manner
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I897-] National Catholic Teacher^ Institutes. 391
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392 National Catholic Teachers'' Institutes. [Dec,
that it can never die; nay, the spirit has always lived in the
hearts of true teachers ; this marvellous growth would not, nor
could not have taken place in so short a time only that the
teachers were ready and responsive. It is a mistaken idea that
the mission of the institute is to waken the dead ; its' work is
to aid the living, and it has found a welcome and an abiding
place only in the minds and souls of those who are real
teachers, who are active, progressive, growing educators.
One reverend mother, who is a far-seeing woman and has
had years of experience in governing and guiding, said, at
the close of one of the largest institutes last summer: "The
institute is as necessary to the teacher as the retreat is to the
religious." The National Catholic Institute movement is
destined to live and become a power in the educational life of
the nation. Not alone because it is wcJl organized and well
planned, and the workers are earnest, capable, and zealous, but
for the reason that the times demand the work and God wills it.
It is a grand sight to see the teachers assembled at one of
these institutes, to have the privilege of looking into the faces
of hundreds of women who have consecrated their lives to the
work of teaching. When many are brought together, all work-
ing for a common cause with a common motive, what enthu-
siasm is aroused, what power is engendered, and how far-
reaching the consequences ! Last year the movement knocked
at school-rpom doors for admittance ; to-day it is within the
walls and working.
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1897.J The Church and Social Work. 393
THE CHURCH AND SOCIAL WORK.
[T might appear from the title of this paper that
we intend to offer a few moral platitudes on
the relations between the clergy and the working
classes. Men looking merely at the surface are
ready to think that the Church consists of the
clergy, and perhaps some pious and charitable laymen who work
with the clergy. We mean a good deal more by the word
Church, even as a social fact and instrument of social reforma-
tion ; we mean that divine society which manifests itself in an
organization of men, priests and laymen — that society the
reason of whose being is holiness and love, and whose ac-
tivity is exercised in the promotion of them. Consequently if
we offer one or two suggestions concerning social work that
may be done under the guidance of the clergy, we are doing no
more than reminding both clergy and laity of their obligations.
We do no more than show them fields where zeal and charity
will find room for exercise without adding to the burdens of
life, but an exercise which will be good for themselves as in-
dividuals and of advantage to all within the sphere of their
influence.
That our view cannot be deemed sectarian may be inferred
from the fact that this article has been, to some extent, sug-
gested by a visit to what is known as the Mills Hotel, in this
city. We inferred from that visit that it was not so much the
amount of money as the judicious expenditure of it that was
needed for the work of social improvement. For instance, if a
commercial speculation could succeed by bringing within the
reach of poor people conveniences and comforts which ordinarily
would be deemed unattainable, then voluntary associations
could handle resources at their disposal with a success not
previously considered practicable. As we said, we are not
sectarian. We sympathize with everything that is wisely done
for the benefit of the poor and industrial classes. The work of
social improvement emanating from any honest source may
demand the active assistance of the clergy and laity because
of their obligation to promote love and holiness among man-
kind. They are the Church in its manifestation ; but we
desire it to be not a half-paralyzed body, but one working
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394 The Church and Social Work. [Dec,
The Working-man's Hotel, New York.
from the impulse of the life within, which is the Spirit of God.
In saying this we are stating what may be regarded as empty
sound, or a sonorous mouthing of what is within the knowledge
of every little child of Holy Church. This may be superficially
correct, but Jt is only superficially correct ; the Church is
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1 897-] The Church and Social Work, 395
charged with indifference to the welfare of the working classes.
It is to this charge our mouthing, if critics so please, is directed.
We deny that the Church was ever unmindful of the less pros-
perous elements of society ; we deny, too, that her awakened
interest in the working classes springs from the fear that her
influence is seriously endangered. She is no respecter of per-
sons ; she emancipated the slave directly where she had the
power, she wrought out his emancipation, sometimes by great
sacrifice, where her power was only a moral one. In her hands
the serf of the soil became a freeman, priest, and pope, when
great men would have kept him for ever on the soil. The
sharpest conflicts of the Church with the temporal power every-
where over Europe were on the claim advanced by her that a
serf or a serf's son, by becoming a cleric, became a free man.
No doubt writers opposed to the Church charge her with
aggression, spiritual tyranny, and violence to conscience for
putting forth such claims, and they praise the spirit which
caused king and lord to resist them. Now we, as friends of
personal . as well as political liberty, think it was a good
thing that the peasant escaped from the knife of the porter's
lodge, the scourge, from the manorial justice of pit and gaU
lows to the monastery hard by, where he became a student, a
monk, a ruler of men in some great see or in the supreme see
of all. We prefer such a life as that developed for him to
the recovery of him by his lord, whether obtained by the sharp
scent of blood-hounds or by surrender from a violated sanc-
tuary. We beg, with the greatest submission, to differ from our
non-Catholic friends on this point.
If there has been apathy on the part of the clergy and well-
to-do among the laity — we do not believe there has been, — if
there has been what appears to be that, it may be accounted
for by the Church's struggle for existence in this country. That
is decided in her favor ; she has attained a vigorous life. But
she is the Church of the poor, and the work of all who have
the means and leisure should be to lift the poor to a religious
life. This can be effectually done by supplying the motives
through the uses of an improved social life. This will be the
best refutation of the charge of indifference to their welfare.
Certain leaders of the industrial classes regard religion as the
antagonist of the rights of labor. An appeal to historical
testimony does not avail with them. They ask for results
now and here, and shrug their shoulders at proofs from the
past. Socialist leaders are not without a following, and be-
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396 The Church and Social Work. [Dec,
yond their following their opinions go out that religious work is
in conflict with social work. They point to the sects, a large
part of whose activity seems to be expended in unsympathetic
charity and the promulgation of theories that are implicitly
based upon the inferiority of labor as a status compared- with
capital. The rights of weahh are so prominent in the utter-
ances of ministers that labor appears to be without rights. But,
with a delicate flattery, it is insinuated that capital has religious
duties springing from the law of charity. It is graceful for the
rich to be considerate and compassionate, something like the
principle noblesse oblige, but there is no moral claim upon them.
Now, clearly this explains the notion that religious work is an-
tagonistic to social work, because there is no morality in the
religion which takes this attitude.
But if the Church, which sanctifies morality, which expresses
the character of every moral principle in unmistakable language,
which takes moral principles out of the natural plane, elevates
and sanctifies them, and declares that they are the advocates or
accusers of each man, where no interested formulas of depen-
dent preachers shall be allowed to obscure the eternal issue — if
she holds aloof from the work of social improvement, no one
can blame the socialist for his opinions, and no one need be sur-
prised that they find a lodgment in so many minds. There is
one field, however, where her efforts must have fair play : that
is, among her own children wavering between the blind theories
of socialism, the temptations springing from a dwarfed exist*
ence, and a belief in her teachings. It is so hard to reconcile
with the goodness of God, as presented in the Church's teach-
ings, the manifold facts which make up a maimed, distorted life.
The spirit of the age, as we have it in books and platform pro-
nouncements, demands the largest measure of life for the in-
dividual. The demand is not a restricted one. It is not con-
fined to a favored class. Every one is entitled to an equal
measure of political rights, and equally to pursue the way to
happiness. The Church is an organization of infinite strength
and flexibility. Her opponents admit that she is a great moral
force working in the interests of order. That is admitted here,
it is admitted in France atid Germany by her most malignant
enemies. We do not care a straw for the inconsistency of those
who admit her conserving power, but try to destroy it. Their
testimony is enough. Now, we say that she has a great field
among her own children, whether they are loyal or discontented,
whether they bow to her words or sulk in the byways — a
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great field for activity along those lines of amelioration which
the spirit of the age demands.
It is not ours to quarrel with that spirit. We cannot
quarrel with it. The way that spirit is described reads
like inflated rhetoric, but it expresses, in a vague way no
doubt, but in some sense, a law long hidden, but written in
men's hearts from the begin-
ning. Servitude covered it
up, the freaks of ambition and
power ignored it ; but when
the Lord Clirist preached the
brotherhood of man and sealed
the doctrine with his blood,
those who heard it recognized
it as something that they had
within them, but which was il-
legible, or it may be inarticu-
late, till then. With this
teaching what we have called
the demand of the age, when '
properly explained, is consis- *
tent, and is the only consis-
tent demand. There must be
moral equality among breth-
ren, there must be universal
rights and duties among them ; ^r. mills, the inaugurator of the
. , , , . , , Working-man's Hotel Scheme.
it cannot be that the rich alone
have the rights, and that the poor are to be dependent on their
consideration, their good feeling. Consideration a scornful mood !
good feeling an accident of weather ! The spirit of the age,
restricted by our meaning, speaks the moral and material needs
of men. Even in the unrestricted shape of the socialist or the
anarchist, the principle, though it be of the earth earthy,
it is still the cry of the oppressed to Heaven. Men may
assail the Church, they may confound her with their enemies
and hers, they may say that her doctrines paralyze the brain
and rob the hands of half their strength. What of it ? Who
heeds the ravings of despair ? Lawless opinions, wild theories,
blasphemies in the form of formulas of justice, are like the in-
articulate cries of wounded beasts. Those who have no com-
passion for them, who invoke the resources of civilization, as
the phrase is, to cope with them, are pharisees. This is not the
way the Church's Founder looks at them ; she cannot look at
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398 The Church and Social Work. [Dec,
them in this way. Then those who represent her in the work
of life, her priests, her faithful laymen, cannot, dare not be
without a great pity for those unhappy souls whom the condi-
tions of existence have so maddened.
The resources of religion are derived from the poor. The
few Catholics of wealth, together with the Catholics that arc
in easy circumstances, could not have supplied a twentieth of
the wealth which is fixed in church buildings, religious houses,
institutions. We wish it to be understood that the wealthiest
Catholic in this country possesses only what would be counted
a mere percentage on the means of thousands of non-Catholics,
that among well-to-do people Catholics are only an infinitesi-
mal number, and that well-to-do Catholics are only a recogniz-
able fragment of their own creed. This is no doubt known to
themselves ; this is, we thinks why a good deal of philanthropy
among Catholics aims at a fashionable advertisement, as some
of it most unquestionably is a business advertisement. This
we do not want ; but at the same time we do want Catholic
philanthropy to manifest itself with conspicuous success, and we
believe it can be done.
The motive is the impelling power. In proportion to the
purity of the motives will be the work accomplished in helping
those to whom help at this moment means the value of a life,
in helping those who have fallen to recover their feet, in
taking out of the dark places of cities the thousands who live
in death while waiting death ; in finding out the other thousands
who lie on door-steps, on quays, or hide in blind alleys, or
prowl about seeking some one they may rob — those, the
socially lost, the worst of all the classes, whose existence is a
blot upon the sunshine, a danger in the atmosphere, and which
will be a load upon the earth until they lie beneath it. The
problem is not insoluble.
Its solution has been attempted in London with encourag-
ing results. The awakening of England to the condition of the
London poor has displayed itself in several independent move-
ments. The Establishment has entered into the work with com-
mendable zeal ; but besides the efforts of her ministers, there is
the movement from the universities, there are the movements
to dififuse sound political and economic knowledge by means of
lectures, the movement to establish labor clubs, reading rooms,
and a variety of other methods to develop and increase taste
and technical skill among the industrial classes. All this tends
to elevate their condition.
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The fitness of the priests for work of this kind we hold to
be assured. They are not inferior in capacity and knowledge
to the graduates of Oxford and Cambridge. Their parochial
duties come first, and these, mo doubt, are exacting, but there
must be some spare time that can be devoted to social work.
Take an instance of what energy may accomplish. The work
of the Establishment in East London had been neglected in a
way that cannot be sufficiently condemned. The activity which
took its rise from the Oxford movement, in 1840, had to face
difficulties as great as those that would confront the priests and
charitable laity of New York at the present moment. If the
American church enters on the work of social improvement,
she does so with advantages that no other influence possesses,
because she is a part of that living body we call the Church.
What she may do in this path is done by a perfect machinery,
and^not by spasmodic flashes of enthusiasm. We are not under-
rating the labor of others, we give credit to the young men
whom the Oxford movement inspired with a zeal in the cause of
humanity, we readily acknowledge the exertions of the Dissent-
ing bodies, but we doubt the abundance of the spring from which
their activity proceeds. It seems to us that the co-operation of
these men in social work is held together by the frail tie of
voluntary alliance. In the case of the Oxford men the union
is based on somewhat approximate views of doctrine and duty ;
it is the elastic band of common memories and training. As
we have said, they had difficulties. They began with the sense
of all that was selfish, old-fashioned, and traditionally Protestant
in the Establishment against them. They were distrusted as
innovators by every vicar and perpetual curate who droned
away the lessons once a week to empty churches, and . to
whom the poor were as great an offence as the Dissenting
ministers, to hear whose attacks upon the Establishment they
went as they might go to hear an ultra Radical or a Chartist
orator.
But the work of these young enthusiasts was productive. It
did good in all directions among Protestants. It forced the
Broad Church party in the Establishment to put in practice
their opinion that doctrine was not of so much consequence as
godly life, or at least externally respectable life. It stimu-
lated the Dissenting ministers to exertion to vindicate the reason
of their existence. We say, when they accomplished so much
the Church in the great cities of the United States — in this great
city of New York, can do more.
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400 The Church and Social Work. [Dec,
We insist that it must be borne in mind that the Church is
a perfect society, a body all whose parts are bound together
in union of life ; so that if she gives her approval through her
constituted authorities to work of this kind, the spirit which
so often changed the world will change the face of cities now.
It is only comparing with the work of accidental aggregates of
individuals her work when we speak of her in the same breath
with the non-Catholic bodies. We do not possess the wealth
of these, but that is counterbalanced by the fact of an organ-
ization behind us that can do anything, a zeal that is more
than enthusiasm the moment it is called into play. We are not
preaching, we are stating sociological facts, aspects of the
Church's relation as a perfect society to the political society in
which we live.
Hence we presume that our younger clergy, at least, are
pervaded with the conviction that the social obligations issuing
out of the Christian dispensation are meant for life and not
for speculation. Duties annexed to humanity might afford a
Greek philosopher a subject on which to exercise his dialectic
skill before his school ; or to Cicero, supping with Lucullus, it
might be olives to the Falernian to spout about the humanity
which his host's slaves shared with that fortunate proconsul.
But it would bear no seed, it would harm nobody, and so his
splendid host could pass it by with the thought that if his
guest were not insane, he was only worshipping Bacchus under
his name of Liber.
There is a moral equality springing of necessity from our
holy religion ; but in its social aspect it must be regarded with
judicious mind and not travestied into theories that violate, in
the name of justice, the rights of society and of our fellow-
men. But all men have rights against society and against each
other. A contract between employer and workmen does not
terminate the relations between them. No class of the people
is made for the dire poverty that entails the misery and degra-
dation from which alarming consequences to society must follow
sooner or later. All classes are entitled as of right to some
degree of comfort, of education, of moral and religious train-
ing. We are speaking of social e4ements now; we are not
speaking of the thief, the drunkard, the libertine, or the des-
perate criminal who has no regard for the sanctity of life.
For the social elements down each level there are moral
and economic means of elevation available in the Church.
Wealth is not so necessary as organization that will wisely em-
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The Parlor.— Open to all Inmates.
ploy the resources at hand. In time a healthy public opinion
will be formed in which the dignity of labor will be recognized,
in which virtue alone will be deemed aristocracy, in which, an
honest man who supports his family by his work in factory, or
railway, or mine will be looked upon as better than the master
who has grown rich by grinding the faces of his factory hands,
better than the railway directors who have cleared out
small share-holders by their fraud, better than the mine-owner
who has amassed a fortune, not out of the coal only but out
of the lives of his employees.
As we have already said, in dealing with these classes the
Church possesses in her organization advantages incomparably
greater than the sects. The success of the Oxford men referred
to above is useful as an instance of what zealous and united
work can effect. It was due in large part to their fearlessness ;
they attacked selfishness and cruelty with the courage belong-
ing to their class. But the Church is no respecter of persons,
and because of this there is not a young priest who, if he saw
VOL. LXVI.— 26
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402 The Church and Social Work. [Dec,
his way to do good, would spare effort out of consideration for
wealth or social prestige or influence of any kind. If there be
any such, he is a hireling who has entered the fold by scaling
the wall. With him we have nothing to do.
Persons outside the Church, as we have already said, are
beginning to respect her power as a great social instrument.
Of this there is no doubt. We learn that the Catholic clergy
are esteemed by all non-Catholics who come across them. We
are not bidding for support outside the Church, but it is well
to have in this country a body of men who dare not condone
plunder or polygamy ; who are bound by their order to main-
tain that honesty can in no way be violated without sin, and
that pardon for such sin cannot be had until restitution shall
have been made ; who are bound by their order to uphold the
purity of married life and what follows from this, the preserva-
tion of the family, that unit which Aristotle calls the basis of
the state. Let polygamy be called divorce and le,galized ten
thousand times, no priest can countenance it ; let robbery build
palaces and hospitals, no priest can pronounce absolution for
it until justice has been satisfied. So we cannot have amongst
us Pharisees giving an alms out of the spoils of the poor, nor
fraudulent philanthropists sitting in the first places in the syna-
gogue, not even a frail beauty masquerading among decent
women with the third man she calls her husband. We may be
poor. Ours is the Church of the poor ; but it is the Church of
the Lord Christ too, and inspired by something of His love for
mankind, she should be able to do great things for the benefit of
man even apart from the religious work which is her proper
sphere.
That fearlessness which the priest must possess, and which
he can infuse into laymen working with him for social purposes,
is one great factor in producing success. Organized work,
where labor is well divided, is another ; the funds are another
still. This last must be within reach. The Church in the United
States has not risen, like Ilion, from the sound of music. No
witches* withered leaves could have paid for cathedrals, semi-
naries, colleges, convents, orphanages, asylums of all kinds.
The society of St. Vincent de Paul expends a large amount
annually in this city. Between clothing, cash, and food ten
thousand dollars have been expended in one year in the parish
ef St. Paul. We are, therefore, very clearly of opinion that the
liberality of our people will supply every fair call upon it ;
but we hope that the call shall be fair.
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1897.] The Church and Social Work. 403
This fairness will be secured by the co-operation of the laity
as trustees to some extent and workers to the entire extent.
The priest can, after all, be no more than a counsellor in the
different kinds of social work. But the work itself, whether it
concerns itself in planning a man*s club or a woman's club, a
library, a debating society,
a reading-room ; whether it
engages in building enter-
prises to secure sanitary
homes at reasonable, rents
and under conditions in
which life may broaden out
healthily, must be done by
well-to-do and leisured lay-
men.
We may enter into this
subject in greater detail in
another issue. For the pre-
sent we shall be content
with giving the instance of
the parish of St. George,
Camberwell, London. We,
of course, are speaking of
the parish of the Establish-
ment, but as it in its
general features resembles
the larger parishes of this
city, it is an instance im-
mediately in point. At one entrance to mills hotel.— rooms, at
.. .. ... - Twenty Cents.
time its religious needs
were attended to by the vicar and three curates, until two
missioners from the College Missions (Trinity, Cambridge)
joined them. They set up centres for service on Sundays ;
we are not emphasizing this, because we are not convinced
of its necessity among Catholics even in the largest parishes,
but these centres brought religion nearer to homes from which
it had been excluded. The social work done, however, is con-
nected with those centres in many respects, and at each centre
there is a list of guilds, clubs, and societies which are to be
joined by those who wish .to participate in the religious and
social life of the parish. All over the parish there is a system
of district visitors, in connection with which there are trained
nurses, some of whom belong to a sisterhood. The registration
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404 The Church and Social Work. [Dec.
of visits is minute in its exactness — so that, as we understand
it, the whole parish, through its social and religious activities,
is bound together as a family.
We have exceeded our space. We cannot now sug^gest
the political reforms, the social improvements through legisla-
tion, the means of bringing within reach of the industrious
poor all the advantages of the highest artistic, scientific, techni-
cal, and literary education which may grow out of such social
work as we are speaking of. All that is wanted is energy.
We ask, what are the well-to-do laity contributing to the ad-
vancement of their brethren ? Do the priests, regular and
secular, do all in their power? It will not do for the laity to
say they contribute out of their purses to all charities. The
contribution we want is participation in the life of their hum-
bier co-religionists. We want them to join in clubs with them, in
literary associations, help them in obtaining lecturers from time
to time, as similar working-men's associations in London obtain
gratuitously lecturers who stand in the front rank of literature
and science. Association with their poorer brethren will be of
incalculable benefit to both. The well-to-do will have the con-
sciousness that they are doing humane and noble work in ele-
vating and comforting lives that had little to rejoice and raise
them ; their poorer brethren will repay them with affection and
respect, than which we know of no higher prize on earth.
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©HE UlI^GIN'S I^OBB.
BY CLAUDE M. GIRARDEAU.
UTSPREAD around the world on high
I see the Virgin's glorious robe,
By foolish mortals called the sky,
Or roof of this aerial globe.
But we, the children of the Light,
Know that about us is a place —
The deep and caverned womb of Night —
A vast immeasurable space,
Thick sown with suns, a silent gloom
Filled with a shuddering mystery
Those feeble lamps cannot illume,
For it is God's Eternity.
Could we but see its fearful deep.
Our souls appalled would sink away,
As sometimes, dreaming in our sleep,
We shriek like children for the day.
So, round our apprehensive sight.
Our Blessed Mother hangs the blue
Of her translucent veil of light
That only lets God's Splendor through.
Color divine ! Our hearts we steep
In that soft radiance, for rt lies
About us as we wake or sleep,
The atmosphere of Paradise,
Tinting our wan souls with its hue
Celestial. And when stars arise
Spangling the amplitude of blue.
We see the Blessed Virgin's eyes.
Twelve stars around her lovely head.
The hornM moon beneath her feet.
Their bright interpretation shed
Upon her face divinely sweet.
At her fair feet, our wearied sense
In her veiled shadow rests awhile.
Secure in God's dear recompense.
The benediction of her smile.
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paragraph or two, such .as we have at our disposal in this gos-
sipy paper about books ; but we can say this much, that a great
deal of information, hitherto not accessible to more than a few,
is brought within the reach of all. The task he set himself
was a difficult one. Even this information would stop short at
the dissolution of the monasteries ; for the subsequent history,
of the "black monks" has not been written with the care and
from materials possessing the authority of the older history.
Recognizing the somewhat legendary accretions that obscure
the facts of their later life, he has endeavored to subject them
to the test of research, and we think successfully. We consider
the work before us sketches with force and fidelity the history,
ancient and modern, of the English Benedictines. It is an im-
portant contribution to the study of society as well as a good
book in what it tells the individual and its moral effect on him.
We cannot get rid of the monks by a brutal taunt, as the Earl
of Pembroke did with the mother abbess when seizing the
foundation of which she was the head. " Go spin, you jade ! **
was the retort of that useful member of society to the poor old
woman who asked how she and her sisters were to live.
We are in a position to do some justice to the monks, be-
cause fair-minded and well-read persons outside the church will
listen to us. We could not say much before. It was well that
the Monasticon and works of that class were compiled at great
cost of time and labor. We can draw upon them now, and
their authors have the reward in good effects after life, if not
in appreciation during life. It tries our patience a little when
we hear empty-pated Catholics, with Protestant-magazine knowl-
edge, newspaper knowledge, popular-lecture knowledge, histori-
♦ New York : Longmans, Green & Co.
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calnovel knowledge, say that the monks were drones for the
most part, and that such relief as the monasteries extended to the
poor created and perpetuated pauperism. We hear that Catho-
lic workmen are fond of quoting the blasphemies of a lectur-'
ing lawyer. Now, it i^ in the same way that Catholics, with
some pretensions to culture, act in the matter of Catholic poli-
tical and social history. The work before us, unless it comes
under the disability of having been written by "a priest, ought
to remove from such Catholics the errors which they have
gathered with interested good feeling from the maligners of
their religion.
Even such Catholics might see that self-denial has its uses.
We are not going to recommend it on the authority of pagan
schools, however considerable the weight such authority would
have with them, but we suggest that if they possess anything,
or if the non-Catholics whom they flatter by imitation possess
anything of learning, of comfort, of convenience, of the man-
ners that make intercourse a pleasure, they owe it to the monks
— they owe them all to the monks. The new world the monks
created amid the ruins of Roman civilization rose so silently
that one may excuse the Protestant and recreant Catholic for
not seeing their hands in it. But their hands were there all
the same — digging, draining, road-making, clearing away forests,
building — while others of them, hidden in cold cells not too
well lighted, blinded themselves over the manuscripts they
had saved from the wreck of fallen empires, in deciphering,
copying, and recopying. They did this without newspaper
paragraphs paid in cash or mutual admiration ; consequently,
though the ** woody swamp became a hermitage, a religious
house, a farm, an abbey, a village, a seminary, a school of learn-
ing, and a city," it was not known that they had anything to
do with the gradual transformation.
Bearing in mind such growth from desolation to order and
fertility in ten thousand landscapes, we transcribe the routine
life of the Benedictines, which only differed from that of other
rules in their liberality or indulgence. These lazy, dirty, selfish,
conscienceless men, who lived on the superstitions of the poor
wretches in the vicinity, rose at 2 A. M. and spent until 8 P. M.
in the work appointed to each. This is how roads came to be
made. Work, incessant work, could construct cities under East-
ern, pile up pyramids and temples under Egyptian kings ; and
the armies of workmen, generation after generation, die under
the hands of overseers. This we know, because there is noth-
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ing connected with the Catholic Church to obscure our judg-
ment. At the same time it may be submitted, that the silent
monks could transform Europe by incessant work, and be in-
spired by love in doing it. Only that they are monks, the evi-
dence in their favor is immeasurably stronger than for the
gigantic enterprises of antiquity. We have abundance for these,
but for the labors of the monks every monument, bookish or
other, that tells of a Roman civilization, of Barbarian irruptions,
of political and social births across Europe from Britain to
Greece, tells of the work done by the men who rose in the
night to work. We then may admit that roads and villages
connected abbey and abbey, city and city, and, as Cardinal
Newman put it in his matchless way, " what the haughty Alaric
or fierce Attila had broken to pieces these patient, meditative
men have brought together and made to live again." We can
also accept the proofs which ruined buildings, changed politi-
cal conditions, lost and acquired trade, reiflecting contemporary
records, afford, that the labor of these meditative men in mak-
ing wildernesses smiling landscapes was often undone by fire
and sword. New invaders could undo in an hour what a cen-
tury had constructed, and nothing was left to them but to be-
gin all over again.
It is almost a pity ungrateful Europe, and the ungrateful
world, were not left to their fate. This work of reparation going
on, as it were, through the force of an overpowering instinct in
these communities of monks. Invaders possessing the " stern,
manly qualities" our writers admire trampled in the dust
churches, colleges, cloisters, libraries, which the ''monkish** ene-
mies of personal labor and civilization had supplied with their
own brains and hands. What harm is it that they arranged their
lives in this way — that, for instance, they recited the divine office
divided as to its hours instead of not reciting it at all or re-
citing it all at once ? Such a waste of time and energy ! but
really we should have no steam-engines, electricity, stock ex-
changes, monster warehouses, printing-presses only for them.
Certainly, if a man considers it is a better employment of time
and energy to defraud others by means of company promotion
and manipulation than to practise devotion, we have nothing
to say to him ; but he has no right to compel others to prefer
swindling to piety. Suppose we take the little hours at the
normal time of 6 for prime, 9 for tierce, which was followed
by Mass, 12 for sext, 2 or 3 for none, 4 or 6 for Vespers, and
7 for compline, it may be conceded that the intervals were
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well spent. They were filled up with reading, that was the rule.
What has been left behind by them shows that the reading was
work, hard work, not glancing over newspapers, shallow maga-
zine articles, compendiums of popular science, and thinking that
in the badly assimilated heap of rubbish all knowledge is pos-
sessed — nothing of the kind, but hard work. Even their intel-
lectual recreations display a subtlety which must have had at
least one value as a practice, that they kept the mind prompt
and penetrating.
The fitness of Father Taunton for the task of a philosophical
historian is evinced by his fairness, independence, and industry.
In judging the administrative qualities of men he shows him-
self no respecter of persons. For instance, in the dispute of St.
Edmund with the Canterbury monks he does not overlook the
fact that great personal sanctity does not necessarily imply the
possession of the qualities that are essential to wise govern-
ment. We express no opinion on the controversy itself, we
only draw it forth as an illustration of our author's indepen-
dence. Again, w.e have an instance of like courage in his
estimate of Wolsey, and we should be glad at some future
time to receive from him a monograph on that statesman and
his times.
The second volume opens with a very interesting chapter
telling the views that took shape in the minds of men fired by
zeal for the reconversion of England. There was a difficulty
in the way, owing to the opinion, in ruling and Protestant
circles, that Catholics were more interested in promoting the
designs of Catholic princes abroad than in the salvation of souls.
The priests sent to England for missionary purposes repudiated
the political designs of Allen at Rheims or Agazzari at Rome ;
to some extent their professions were accepted, but the best
test of sincerity would be a movement away from Jesuit in-
fluences. This naturally went in the direction of the Benedic-
tines, whose history was so interwoven with the pre-Reformation
history of England. It was led by Robert Sayer, a Cambridge
man and a convert, but he died at Venice without having had
an opportunity of entering on the work in his own count?ry.
But from that time the stream flowed to Monte Cassino and
other Benedictine houses, and from these the missionaries went
back to England equipped for their labors. It may be
observed that Cardinal Allen had become distrustful of the
previous methods and that now he favored the new movement.
For this change he is criticised in no halting language by
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Agazzari, rector of the English college at Rome, writing to
Parsons.
There can be no doubt of the purity of Allen's motives in
either policy. If he favored the views of Catholic princes
abroad, it is only fair to say that he did so only within the
limits of an alliance which would secure the liberty of England.
The majority of Englishmen called in the aid of a foreigner
against their lawful king when they invited William of Orange
to invade England with his mercenaries, drawn from every
country in Europe. The sufferings of the Catholics under
Elizabeth might fairly be deemed a reason to rise against her
government, but to rise against it without sufficient support
would be a blunder and a crime. Sufficient support could only
be had, it may have been supposed, by courting alliance with
the Catholic princes abroad. Theoretically this seems tenable;
but we are glad Aiat Allen, towards the end, came to realize
that missionary work is not to be done by the sword, that
Christ's soldiers are not the spearmen of Philip. We regret
our space does not permit us to say more about the valuable
work Father Taunton has given us.
The Rev. Charles Coppens, S.J., is the author of a book
whose title is Moral Principles and Medical Practice* Father
Coppens is professor of Medical Jurisprudence in the John A.
Creighton Medical College, Omaha. The book contains nine
lectures delivered to his class on leading subjects of medical
jurisprudence, among which he treats on craniotomy, abortion,
insanity, and others. He falls into the view which has been for
some time gaining ground, that the name medical jurisprudence
very imperfectly indeed describes the subject matter which
forms the contents of all the older treatises, not excepting the
admirable works of Taylor and Guy. The latter writer is
admirable in the information he gives of the forms of mental
alienation, but his is a collection of notes of observation rather
than a scientific tract even in this part. All experts looked
to Taylor's handling of gunshot wounds as leaving nothing to
be desired. He was used not alone by the lawyer; the prac-
tising surgeon went to him as to an avowed tract on the sub-
ject for the suggestions on probing and the - statement of
characteristics of color, which Taylor presents so exhaustively.
But in this too the treatment was not that of medical juris-
prudence, it was rather that of medical practice. One can see
♦New York': Benzigfer Brothers,
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1897O Talk ABOUT New Books. 411
how the earlier writers were landed into the use of an incorrect
terminology.
Ordinarily one would suppose that medical jurisprudence
should mean the science of the principles on which the laws
regarding medical practice are founded. As jurisprudence may
be defined the science of the law — that is to say, the science
which examines and states the principles on which law is
founded — so the branch of it called medical jurisprudence
should state and examine the laws controlling medical practice,
the principles that underlie them, and their relation to con-
science. But in the older works this view was not taken.
Facts innumerable were collected under various heads in order
that the medical man might fortify himself before entering a
witness-box to give his testimony. There was no thought of
medical law in the sense of a system which explained the
points at which medical practice came in contact with the laws
of the land and the courts that administered them. Still less
could it* be expected that medical jurisprudence would con-
cern itself about the study of the principles on which these
laws rest and their binding power on conscience. This latter
department of a true medical jurisprudence is what our author
offers in his clearly stated outlines ; and we think that he has
in this work, though necessarily a somewhat elementary one,
made a valuable contribution to the study of forensic medicine,
valuable in the curiosity it will excite and the hints it affords
for its gratification.
The Fugitives and other Poems* by John E. Barrett, form a
creditable volume. The title poem, as we may call the first in
the book, is a tale of slavery. It is told in blank verse. This,
we think, was not quite so judicious a vehicle for him to have
selected as rhyme would be. The severe majesty of blank
verse demands the highest exercise of the imagination and an
exceptional command of poetic diction. This is obvious, for
there is great danger that the verse, in any one but a poet of
the finest artistic sense, becomes prose measured in lines of
ten syllables or whatever the counting may run to. The third
paragraph or section of the poem is very fine, and reminds one
of the melody of Tennyson's shorter poems. It tells of the
mental characteristics of the slave, Adam Sage, who under a kind
master had ample opportunities for study, and also the moral
qualities which the religion of the Lord Christ developed in
* Buflfalo, N. Y. : The Peter Paul Book Co.
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412 Talk about New Books. [Dec,
him notwithstanding the social irony of his lot. He is a hero
in his resignation to it, and a hero in his dreadful death, which
is described with a strong, simple pathos that ought to put
Mr. Barrett in a good place among the minor poets. The
other poems, which are rhymed, are in various metres, the long
ballad being that which he seems to handle most easily. At
the same time there is nothing to find fault with in the rhythm
of the one called "A Tree," or that entitled "The Magda-
lene," the latter in decasyllabic quatrains, the other in octo-
syllabic stanzas.
We have a History of England* for the use of schools, by
M. E. Thalheimer. The compiler, who if not a German by
birth is at least one by descent, puts himself forward as an
exponent of the principles established by the Revolution of
1688. But he misunderstands them as he misunderstands the con-
stitutional questions involved in the conflict between Charles I.
and his Parliaments. Yet, with a confidence which no one ex-
cept a German could display, he decides offhand upon issues
of the time concerning which the greatest constitutional law-
yers >vire at variance, and on which constitutional lawyers are
at variance to-day. If there be one particle of value — apart
from force — in the argument from the Parliament side, it is
that the king was violating the privileges of the people secured
by charters, by royal assents to acts of Parliament, by the
promises of the Conqueror and the Norman kings, that they
would maintain the laws of Edward the Confessor, based as these
were said to be on the ancient " dooms," or on immemorial
popular rights. But those who take this line of argument are
bound to concede the whole claim for asserting which St.
Thomas of Canterbury was assassinated ; but this German can
see nothing in St. Thomas except an unscrupulous churchman
who tried to make a foreign power predominant in England.
Is it possible that no one except a German can be found in
the United States to write the history of the mother country
for the use of schools? That foreigners can write good books
concerning profound political and social questions of English
history we know. We think that Thierry's Norman Conquest of
England is a fairly good book, mistaken in certain theories, no
doubt, but affording the materials to control the theories.
Guizot's History of the English Revolution is a good book, but
written from a citizen-king point of view. Others could be
* New York : American Book Co.
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i897'] Talk ABOUT New Books, ' 413
named, but they are not the works of Germans. Possibly in
history, as in criticism, the savants of that nationality dive down
deepest, stay down longest, and come up muddiest of all man-
kind.
Varta, by Agnes Repplier,* is a collection of essays, humor-
ous and literary, that we can recommend as calculated to while
away an hour or two in an enjoyable and a not unprofitable
manner. The first is called the " Eternal Feminine," and goes
to show that what is known as the *• new woman ** is a per-
son to be met with in all periods of which we have any
records. There is some clever writing about that demonstra-
tive female ; and particularly good are the references to the
variety, "the platform woman.'* The account of Mary Manley
and her libels in the " New Atalantis " is keenly appreciative,
and we have a good bit of description in the ladies' attempt to
storm the gallery of the House of Lords in 1739. We are not
quite sure of her conclusion ; we hope it is not expressed in
the following lines:
" Cora's riding, and Lilian's rowing,'
Celia's novels are books one buys,
Julia's lecturing, Phillis is mowing.
Sue is a dealer in oils and dyes;
Flora and Dora poetize,
Jane is a bore, and Bee is a blue,
Sylvia lives to anatomize ;
Nothing is left for the men to do."
In the paper " Little Pharisees in Fiction " there is scath-
ing contempt for the unnatural little boys and girls that figure
in correct stories for children. It would be lamentable if such
baby prodigies or baby prigs should ever reach man's and
woman's estate ; we are reassured at finding that one infant at
the age of two years and seven months "made a most edify-
ing end in praise and prayer," as he happened not to have
been so much an infant of fiction as of paternal enthusiasm.
We must reprehend Miss Repplier for her jcuriosity in desiring
to know what the "nameless" gentleman said to Mrs. Sher-
wood, author of the Fairchild Family, when that excellent lady
was not quite "four years of age." These good books cannot
have had the proper effect upon our author when she forgets
the awful example of her grandmother Eve. "The F^te de
* Boston and New York : Houghton, Mifflin & Co.
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414 Talk about New Books. [Dec,
Gayant " is a lively account of the festival in Douai, which
commemorates what no one knows, though its origin is not
lost in the twilight of fable, for, if we are not mistaken, it
began in 1479. " Cakes and Ale," a title by the way, if we are
not mistaken, of a book by Douglas Jerrold, which deals with
topics somewhat akin to those adventured on by Miss Repplier,
is — oh, shocking to tell ! — a plea for drinking songs. The line
of defence she takes is what lawyers call confession and avoid-
ance. It will not do. The ''avoidance" is not proved by
Peacock's songs, though they used to be sung by men in fault-
less evening dress ; and still less by the suggestion of the
Saturday Review, that the late Lord Tennyson's " Hands all
Round ! " praying " God the traitor's hope confound ! " did not
exclude mineral waters.
Indeed, it seems that the fair author has essayed an uncon-
genial task in advocating the cause of those song-writers whose
claim to a place among poets is that they have supplied some
good numbers to those who love to disturb the slumber of
their neighbors by awaking the echoes of the night. It reflects
credit on her training and the sobriety of her ordinary thought
when she employs this new mode of thought without the
brightness and spontaneity which mark her other efforts. In
the land of Bohemia she remains cold and severe as the Lady
of Comus among the wild throng that follow her, but unlike
the Lady of Comus, Miss Repplier tries to adapt herself to the
feelings and customs of the rout.
Mr. Archibald Clavering Gunter gives us The Power of
Woman* in a novel — a field to which, if its exercise had been
confined for the last six thousand odd years or so, the race of
Adam would have escaped a vast number of complications;
but whether history would be as stirring in that event, is quite
another thing. We should have had nothing about "the top-
lesse towers of Ilion," as Marlowe calls them, if women were
not " to do " and not " to love " what they should not, but as,
according to the uncle of Clarissa Harlowe, they take very
good care of having their own way in doing and loving, we
suppose the history of the future will not become monotonous.
Mr. Gunter presents us with an astonishing character called
Ballyho Bey : we explain him by recalling a Christmas panto-
mime in which figured a tragi-comic adventurer styled Pat
O'Mustapha. Ballyho Bey is described by the author as a
* New York : Home Publishing: Co.
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I897-] Talk about New Books, 415
scalawag — we consider him a by no means diverting renegade —
though he seems intended to amuse by his brogue and turban
and to shock by his utter want of principle. The events of
the tale begin with an English boarding-school in 1769, and
Mr. Gunter has fairly well "made up'' the life and manners of
the time for the mounting of his piece. One of the girls,
Sarah TurnbuU, who becomes in time, and a very short time
too, the person to manifest " the power of woman," is carry-
ing on a love affair with the captain of a privateer, while an-
other of the girls, a Greek with the Hellenic name of Irene
Vannos, has given her youthful enthusiasms to the keeping of
the turbaned Irishman. This gentleman cajoles the privateer
captain into trusting him with the arrangements for the elope-
ment of Sarah from the school, while he is to carry off the
Greek maiden himself. But Ballyho, who is nothing if not
a Turk with regard to ladies, intends to carry off both girls
himself. This pretty little plot is unsuccessful owing jto the
unexpected turning up of the privateer captain. From this
moment Sarah's character, which had a secret fund of malig-
nity and craft, becomes abnormally developed in these engaging
qualities. She revenges herself on every one. The whole
family of the Vannos are kidnapped to the early settlement of
Florida and Ballyho himself. When we admit the possibility
that the favorite study of a boarding-school miss in the middle
of the eighteenth century was the ** Principe," we are prepared
— for the purposes of the author — to accept the tragic conse-
quences that flowed from her disappointment in the love affairs.
But this also requires us to suppose that the subtle power of
calculating chances, the guile, the preternatural treachery, the
diabolical hatred possessed by Italian statesmen — that all these
qualities, natural and acquired, belonged to this vulgar, half-
educated, middle-class English girl of 1767.
We shall say nothing about the Pink Fairy Booky"* edited by
Andrew Lang, except to recommend our young friends to get
it and read it. The tales, old as the hills and belonging to dif-
ferent peoples, are charmingly told. We can say this lore, in
which peoples at the opposite poles of civilization exhibit the
same hopes and fears, lights and shadows of life, forms not the
least important page in the science of anthropology, viewed in
its social aspect. The virtues are there and obtain victory in
all of them. Courage, kindness, love encounter trials, but the
* New York : Lonfi:inans, Green & Co.;
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evil influences, represented by witches, giants, and oppressors,
in the end give way. " The Merry Wives," from the Danish,
is not merely a nursery tale, though it would amuse the nur-
sery as well as the paterfamilias. "The Wounded Lion,"
which is a true fairy tale from the Catalan, is delightful and
admirably illustrated. "The Troll's Daughter" possesses that
odd, matter-of-fact quality of precision which gives a natural
character to Scandinavian stories of enchantment, and is well
helped by its pictures. By the way, in this illustration the
Troll is depicted as a potentate of more than human height.
This we think is not correct, but we admit his power over
pasture, forest, and river, and all the creatures in them, and
over the human form divine.
A Round Table of the Representative Irish and English Catho-
lic Novelists* gives a list of Irish and English Catholic novel-
ists, with short biographical notes prefixed to the selections
from their stories. The list includes the two Mulhollands,
Clara and Rosa ; R; B. Sheridan Knowles, M. E. Frances (Mrs.
Frances Blundell), and others, and is a neatly got up volume.
St. Augustine of Canterbury and his Companions^^ by Father
Brou, S.J. This is a translation of a small book from the
French, but by whom done the title-page does not tell us.
We can say, however, that the translation has been executed
with great spirit ; and renders into English a careful mono-
graph of the most momentous event in the history of the An-
glo-Saxon people, as we call the marauding tribes who sailed
from North Germany in continuous expeditions until they
conquered the greater part of Britain. Montalembert has told
the same story in The Monks of the West, a thing borne in mind
by Father Brou, who modestly questions his own fitness to go
over the ground traversed by the great publicist. We do not
think he is at all deficient in the gifts of the orator, so that
he need not dread comparison with any one. But apart from
the literary execution of the work, he has a title to be heard
on the score that the critical value of Montalembert's treat-
ment of the epoch and the men who informed it is denied.
He brings to the consideration of the subject the most copious
and recent research, and in consequence supplies us with a
work which, though small, is of great value. There are three
illustrations of the monuments of Canterbury, a plan of the
cathedral in Saxon times, and a list of the principal works con-
sulted.
♦ New York : Benziger Brothers. f London : Art and Book Company.
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The work is divided into ten headings, the first of which,
" Celts and Saxons," presents a correct outline as far as it goes
of the condition of the two races that were brought together
by the descent of Hengist and his Jutes on the shores of the
Isle of Thanet in 449. It is unnecessary to say anything about
the struggle that ensued ; its general features are well known.
It was the descent on a somewhat civilized country of three
Teutonic tribes, hardly above negroes in their condition, but
possessing higher powers of intellect, and corisequently a greater
capacity for civilization, than the negroes. The struggle was an
obstinate one. From 449 until 607 the Celts slowly gave way,
disputing every inch of ground, sometimes arresting the in-
vaders' progress by a victory, sometimes by a drawn battle,
but inevitably yielding to superior fortune, to the advantages
of greater union of forces, and the barbarian ferocity and dis-
cipline which ages of piracy and war had rendered perfect for
attack. The monk Gildas is right in saying that it was God's
just vengeance for that people's former sins that gave them up to
the will of a furious, debauched, gluttonous, drunken, and unlet-
tered race. The invaders were semi-savages, and the pretence of
English writers that they brought with them a polity in which
justice and administration were exact, cannot bear the test of ex-
amination. The fact is, that the naked coasts, swamps, or forests
of that region from which Saxon, Jute, and Angle sailed out to
rob upon the seas would have killed a civilization, if they had
it already. The inference is irresistible, that the intense hatred
of the two races, Celts and Saxons, arose as much from abso-
lute inability to find one point of sympathy which prevails be-
tween civilized and uncivilized peoples, both ef whom are war-
like, as from the sense of the injustice of invasion on the one
side, the rage at desperate resistance on the other. Indeed, we
know of no people whom the Saxon invaders so much resembled
as the Turcoman hordes at whose advance fields were blasted,
cities and temples given to the flames, age and childhood with-
out distinction of sex put to the sword or reserved for slavery.
Numbers of the Britons fled over the sea ; and in Armorica,
three centuries after they landed there the tradition of their
wrongs was then so strong upon their descendants, that we may
conclude that those cruelties have not been surpassed by any-
thing in the experience of mankind. This may help, to some
extent, to explain the diflficulty that it was said St. Augustine
found in obtaining assistance from the Welsh in his work of
converting the conquerors. It was hard to suppose that men
VOL. Lxvi.— 27 .
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whose hands were still red with the blood of priests and monks/
who had only recently destroyed or defiled church and shrine
all over the land, could be vessels of election. What imagination
could conceive that those barbarians, who had only a few years
before turned cities into wildernesses, would be brought to bow
their necks to the soft collar of social esteem ? To say the least
of it, the greatest tact, the utmost delicacy, were needed to win
the co-operation of those poor Britons to serve a people who
had inflicted upon tnem wrongs the memory of which was still
burning in brain and heart with a fire that grace alone could
extinguish. Even great saints cannot be just, ^unless they know
and feel the difficulties which environ men. We do not think
that St. Augustine and his companions did appreciate the diffi-
culties with which they were in contact in this particular mat-
ter.
The reader will find in the little work before us the story
of the foundation of that Saxon Church which became the
miraculous instrument of humanizing a race so intractable that
no one need despair of the conversion of mankind. At least
even the sceptic must admit there is nothing in the nature of
man which opposes an insurmountable barrier to the operation
of grace when ,he thinks of what the Anglo-Saxon was
before St. Augustine came, and what change before the
invasion of the Danes was wrought in him by the Church of
Christ. Whatever England owns to-day of power, of repute
for justice and for law, for the hold of influences which have
advanced civilisation over so large a part of the world, she
owes to Gregory the Great and the missionaries whose ex-
ertions are the theme of the little book before us — a book
which we have read with great profit and pleasure, though at
times with a spirit of reserve, but which, despite our reserve, we
can recommend to our readers with unbounded confidence.
Several critiques on the translation of the Abb6 Demore's
Treatise on True Politeness have deprecated its publication for
general circulation, their writers opining that as it was written
for religious, it should have been kept for their exclusive bene-
fit. We cannot agree with them. Although the abb6*s simple
frankness reminds one occasionally of the instructions of the
old New England. Primer^ and althoug^h the phraseology of his
counsels to novices and superiors may sometimes demand from
ordinary folk a process of mental sifting, we can but be glad
of the production,- in our hurried age and among our brusque
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people, of a manual of etiquette based on axioms such as the
following :
"It is only a person of culture, one graced by education or
possessed of the spirit of God, that can be truly polite. . . .
All voluntary incivility committed by a servant of Jesus springs
from some evil principle."
FATHER book's BOOK OF BOOKS.*
The Book of Books^ by Rev. J. W. Book, R.D., is a power-
ful attempt to condense and popularize those arguments for the
divine authority of Christianity which are based on a study of
comparative religions, and to defend the Bible against the on-
slaughts of infidelity and the perversions of Protestantism.
Since everybody nowadays knows a little and talks a good
deal about Buddhism and Mohammedanism, the first few chap-
ters deal unsparingly with the cheap encomiums which have
been so largely displayed on our conversational market since
the Parliament of Religions, pointing out the philosophical con-
tradictions of the exponents of those Oriental creeds and the
practical results of their working out in national and political life.
Vivacity is given to a line of thought which demands rather
close attention, by the use of the dialogue form, the actors be-
ing a Catholic priest, a " liberal " Methodist preacher, and a
" Latitudinarian *' yclept Ingersoll. Judaism, Miracles and Pro-
phecy, Tradition, the Authenticity of the Pentateuch and the
New Testament, are successively treated, and the concluding
chapter is devoted to a discussion of Catholic and non-Catholic
Rules of Faith. The strong point of the book is the clearness
with which it brings out the indisputable fact that Protestant-
ism has no arguments capable of convincing the infidel of logi-
cally trained mind, and that such an one sees unmistakably
that his choice is between Rationalism and Rome. The plac-
ing of so much and such good matter in a handy form is the
greatest merit of the volume.
» The Book 0/ Books ; or. Divine Revelation from Three Standpoints. By Rev. J. W.
Book, R.D. Indianapolis: Catholic Record Print.
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The old standards of this magazine, represented
r the motto able, advanced, aggressive, will
., — ^^ more than ever attained by the work we have
mapped out for it during the year to come.
It is pleasing to see how actively Cardinal Vaughan is in-
teresting himself in non-Catholic mission work. He went down
to Halstead a short time ago and himself gave two of the
lectures in the town hall during the course of a mission to
the non-Catholics. In England this means a great deal more
than it does here because of what is known politically as
*' heckling." Any one in the audience is privileged to resist
the speaker to his face, and at Halstead some of the ministers
mounted the chairs and controverted the statements of his
Eminence.
It is refreshing to see a prelate of the church, especially
one who surrounds himself with such pomp and dignity as Car-
dinal Vaughan is reputed to do, — it is refreshing to see him
descend into the arena and cross swords with the local minister.
If it demonstrates nothing else, it shows how much he has at
heart the missionary work of the church among non-Catholics.
The social awakening in France is assuming wonderful pro-
portions, and what is particularly striking about it is the fre-
quent congresses assembled under Catholic auspices, in which
the laity are associated with the clergy and a large freedom
of discussion is participated in and enjoyed by both.
The splendid prospectus of the work we propose to do dur-
ing the next year is worthy of your special attention. A mag-
azine with merely respectable features, without any decided
policy, is a nondescript sort of thing. It reminds one of the
** thou-shalt-not '' sort of Christians, who never do very wrong
because they are never inclined that way, but who never do any-
thing positively good, who have no decided traits of character,
and who pass aimlessly through the world, and the world is
not a whit better for their living.
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1897O Living Catholic AUTHORS. 421
AUTHENTIC SKETCHES OF LIVING CATHOLIC
AUTHORS.
Rev. Luke Rivington, D.D., whose fascinating article on
the mental attitude of the Church of England, " Since the Con-
demnation of Anglican Orders,'* appears elsewhere in this
magazine, is perhaps the best qualified of living writers to deal
Rev. Luke Rivington. D.D.
with such a subject. Although his age places his Anglican
•career some twenty years later than those of Newman and
Manning, he was still upon the stage before the curtain fell on
the last scene in the drama of expiring Tractarianism. A
High Churchman from conviction and from sentiment, he was
thoroughly grounded in the arguments for " English Catholi-
•cism," while his early connection with the Anglican congrega-
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422 Authentic Sketches of [Dec.^
tion of "Mission Priests of St. John the Evangelist *' (generally
known as the Cowley Fathers), and his brilliant missionary
career in India and in the United States, as well as in Eng-
land, gave him scope and opportunity for testing to the full,
in practical grappling with sin and sorrow and suffering, the
tenets in which he had been so carefully trained. He was
no mere theorist or doctrinaire — he was no theologian pure
and simple — this man who, in the full ripeness of his intel-
lectual powers, with half a century of active and of fruitful
life behind him, stepped out, some dozen years ago, from
the ranks of the Anglican clergy and sought admission to
the Catholic Church as to the one true fold of Christ. His
very action was a startling sermon to English non-Catholics,,
whose position he understands so fully and so sympathetically^
and to whose conversion he has ever since dedicated his voice
and pen. Dr. Rivington's powers of oratory are unusual, while
the delicacy and persuasiveness of his manner, and the charm
of his marvellously modulated voice lend such aid to his keen
logic and his complete mastery of the science of ecclesiastical
history, that one does not wonder when those who know him
best avow that in these twelve short years he has made more
converts than any other priest in London. Although possibly
most at home in the pulpit, he is well knowi^ to the Public
Hall Apostolate, as carried on in England under the auspices
of the Guild of Our Lady of Ransom.
His contributions to religious journalism in England and
America, as well as his weightier works, are chiefly in the line
of Anglican controversy, as will be judged from the titles of
his books : Authority y or a Plain Reason for joining the Church
of Rome ; Dust ; A Letter to Rev. C. Gore, M.A.; Dependence^
or the Insecurity of the Anglican Position ; Our Separated Breth-
ren; Primitive and Roman; Rome and England, or Ecclesiastic
cal Continuity.
Miss Margaret Kenna (daughter of the late Senator John
Edward Kenna, who died January 7, 1893, while serving his
second term in the Senate) is one of the [youngest of our
Catholic writers, but bids fair to take a high rank among:
short-story writers, at least. What she may do towards the
** great American novel*' it is yet too soon to prophesy; but
her series of sketches, ** In the Parish of the Sacred Heart,'^
now appearing in this magazine, manifest a forcefulness and
originality as character studies which show that Miss Kenna is
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Miss Margaret Kenna.
laying the most solid of foundations for her possible future work
as a novelist.
She has "always loved writing." Indeed, her efforts date
so far back into her almost childhood, that she is unable to
recall precisely what were her ** baby beginnings.** They com-
prise, however, newspaper sketches, written and published while
she was a student at Mount de Chantal, the Visitation Convent
near Wheeling, Miss Kenna's home being in Charleston,
Kanawha County, W. Va.
As yet she has published but one book, The Madonna of the
SnowflakeSy a dainty brochure whose chapters, while as delicately
drawn, are hardly as strong as her later wt)rk. Our author's
stories never pass unnoticed, and the criticfsm which they have
drawn upon themselves in some quarters is, possibly, quite as
much to their credit as is the praise which has been showered
on them in others.
It is worthy of note that the warmest encomiums on the
fidelity to life and on the beauty of Miss Kenna's priestly heroes
come from the clergy themselves — who certainly ought to know
when "the Priest in Fiction** is well drawn!
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424 AUTUEHTTIC SKETCHES OF [Dec,
Ernest Lagarde, LL.D., the well-known Professor of Eng-
lish Literature and Modern Languages in Mount Saint Mary's
College, Emmitsburg, Md., holds a prominent place in the his-
tory of Catholic Annerican literature. Though his services have
been especially rendered in directing the students of the " Moun-
tain " for the past twenty-eight years, yet he has contributed
not a few articles to our standard magazines, etc.
Dr. Lagarde is a native of Louisiana and was born Septem-
ber 4, 1836. His education was conducted almost entirely by his
uncles, Michael Dracos and Alexander Dimitry, both "George-
tonians " and weH known as educators in the South before the
war. The latter was minister to Costa Rica and Nicaragua
under President Buchanan. After spending several years at
the military ins^iti|te of College Hill, near Raymond, Miss.,
Dr. Lagarde returned to his native city, New Orleans, and be-
gan the study of law ; however, finding Blackstone uncongenial,
he turned to medicine, which he also abandoned to enter the
ranks of journaliscn.
He became literary editor of The Magnet y a paper established
by Denis Corcoran, at one time American reporter for the
Dublin Nation^ and author of Court Scenes. Later, when the
paper changed hands and became known as The Mirror^ under
the management of Mark Bigney, the Nova Scotian poet, and his
colaborer, Felix McManus, Dr. Lagarde was retained as liter-
ary editor. During the Secession convention he was connected
with The Delta, under the management of Joseph Brennan, the
Irish patriot. He afterwards became one of the editors of the
Louisiana Courier and of the New Orleans Bee. He then pub-
lished a paper of his own. The Sentinel^ which came out in the
Crescent City during the presidential campaign of i860.
After the secession of Louisiana he enlisted among the fol-
lowers of the stars and bars, and went out a private in Com-
pany D (Louisiana Guards) of the Crescent Regiment. He
afterwards became a clerk in the ordnance bureau at the Con-
federate capital, and while so connected contributed frequently
to the Richmond Whig, besides publishing a monthly magazine
called The Age, and immediately after the war was one of the
editors of the Richmond Bulletin,
When the war ended, Mr. Lagarde began his long and hon-
orable career as college professor. In 1866 he took charge of
the modern language classes in Randolph-Macon College, Boyd-
ton, Va., where he remained until 1868. While here he re-
ceived the degrees of A.B. (1866) and A.M. (1868) from George-
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1 897-] Living Catholic Authors. 425
Ernest Lagaroe, LL.D.
town University. In 1869 he was appointed to the chair which
he now holds in Mount St. Mary's College — that of professor of
English literature and modern languages, of which incumbency
it may be said briefly that it has been of great value to the
college and to the students who, for over a quarter century,
have attended the professor's lectures. Dr. Lagarde in taking
his charge had no easy duty to perform, for he was to suc-
ceed such accomplished educators as Very Rev. Charles C.
Pise, D.D., pulpit orator, historian, novelist, and poet ; and
George H. Miles, whom Brownson styled *' the greatest Ameri-
can dramatist."
During his connection with Mount St. Mary's he has pub-
lished his French Verb-Book and a translation of Quinton's
Nobleman of '<?p, a romance of the days of the French Revolu-
tion. True to his first love, journalibm, he assisted his sons in
the publication of the first printed college paper at the college,
The Mount Echo, From his lectures he selected one on
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426 Living Catholic Authors. [Dec,
Shakspere, which he brought out several years since, under the
patronage of Very Rev. William Byrne, D.D., V.G. of Boston;
while he has now in preparation others on Milton and a
series on the English language, delivered before the graduating
classes in years past.
Professor Lagarde's latest venture was a series of Readers,
which he has placed in the hands of an extensive Western
publishing house and which will soon i^sue from the press.
As a lecturer he has met with much success. Attendants at
the first session of the Catholic Summer-School, in New London^
will remember with pleasure the two able lectures given by him
on "The Bard of Avon." '
Mr. Lagarde. was this year highly honored by St. Francis
Xavier College of New York, which conferred upon him the
degree of Doctor of Laws.
Heretofore Mr. Lagarde's professorial labors have been so
arduous as to interfere greatly with his literary work, but now
he hopes to devote more of his time and attention to such
matters, since his collegiate duties have become less onerous.
The professor's home, " Inglewood," a miJe south of the
college, evokes pleasant memories to his pupils both from the
States and the sister Republic of Mexico.
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i897-] The Columbian Reading Union. 427
THE COLUMBIAN READING UNION.
A STUDY OF OZANAM'S DANTE.*
BY S. M. C.
But these with their loveless tissue of fair weaving ;
These with the joyless musical refrain ;
These letting life go blind and unbelieving ;
These looking earthward only and in vain ;
These that have lain in the poppy-flowers waving,
Grown where the fields turn wildernessi and bare ;
These with the look-back and lotus-craving ;
These with the thin self-echo of despair ;
These ever straining after days that were not ;
These with their reckless abandonment of youth ;
These that restrain not, wonder not, revere not, —
These are no poets — or there is no truth,
PART FIRST.
Dante, the Homer of scholastic philosophy, the doctor who has given us the
literary and philosophical Summa of the middle ages, is a poet who knows of Truth,
He restrains, he wonders, he reveres, and compels restraint, wonder, and reverence
in all who come to him to learn the Truth, He, like the poets he saw discoursing
in " flowery glades," tells us of all things high and noble.
Frederic Ozanam has given us " another book on Dante," and one available
to Catholics; a book which must help us to come nearer to the problem of
Dante's power. In this book we see clearly that the personal interest is not what
holds us in thrall, first by fear, then by wonder, then by sympathy, at last by an
awe-stricken love.
It is not our purpose in studying Dante, under Ozanam's guidance, to spend
much time settling the question of Dante's politics. Was he Guelph or Ghibelline
matters little now. There are many valuable books written with a view to un-
tangling the very tangled threads of Italian factions in the thirteenth century. Nor
shall we try to clear up the Papal, Florentine, and German scandals of the four-
teenth.
Suffice it for us, who look to Dante for philosophical and religious enlight-
enment, to be content with Ozanam 's chapters on the unlovely political wrangling
of those difficult times. What concerns us most in connection with those disputes
is that they led to Dante's exile, and it was during this exile the great Dream was
embodied in the Divina Commedia,
It was Hell and Purgatory, no doubt, for Dante to leave his beautiful city, to
learn " how salt is the bread of strangers, how hard are the stairs of other men.'*
*Aii excellent English translation of Frederic Ozanam's great work on Dante wa»
recently published by tiie Cathedral Library Association, 123 East 50th Street, New York
City.
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428 The Columbian Reading Union. [Dec,
Ozanam does not seem particularly anxious to prove the personal sanctity of
Dante ; rather to show that the Divina Commedia is the poetic Summa, the illus-
tration of the great theological Summa ; to show us how the " divine Plato ''
dwindles beside the seer who saw the remotest consequences of evil and the end-
less beatitude of those who choose good for their portion.
We cannot conceive Dante otherwise than happy while composing his great
works, though in exile. Instead of eating his heart out, why not draw out his ideal
of a perfect government, picturing that good time coming when every one could
sit at ease and perfect himself in prudence and wisdom? — fancying that
good time when, as St. Paul puts it, " Man comes to the measure of the stature
of the fulness of Christ ? " The treatise on Monarchy was Indexed. The Vita
Nuova is a youthful attitude of mind towards God and nature. The Convito
may be called the rationalistic phase of Dante's mental wanderings, where he
makes reason seem, if not all-sufficient, very nearly so. The Divina Commedia
represents Dante, having gone through the age of doubt and speculation, returned
to full faith. Ozanam has served us well as to the judgment w*e are to pass on
Dante's collective works. It is pleasant to think that the twenty years of exile
were shortened by these labors. Would twenty years of study on our part justify
us in setting ourselves up as Dantean expositors? Perhaps yea» more likely
nay ; meanwhile, all the time we can devote to Ozanam 's exposition of Dante as
the greatest philosophical and theological poet will be profitably and pleasantly
spent. With Ozanam 's book and the noble essay by the lamented Brother
Azarias as to the spiritual meaning of the Divina Commedia, we may take up the
great poem again and read it, first, as a mere narrative, and we shall find the
difficulties attendant on our first reading considerably diminished. Then we may
begin to feel the aesthetic delight that every great work of art should awaken.
As for the philosophical and theological reading of Dante, most of us women must
do that under guidance. Ozanam has done i/j particularly a signal service ; when
we have read Ozanam carefully, we may read our own Dante — the poet Dante>
who, no less than Hamlet, had the painful conviction that his times were out of
joint, but who did not go mad in his endeavor to set them right.
We cannot for a moment hesitate as to the propriety of alluding to Shak-
spere in connection with Dante, for both are poets of all times ; though we can-
not conceive Shakspere's attitude towards the stage of this world as exactly the
same as Dante's — " other times, other morals," but it is always the same humanity.
Shakspere in his " brief abstracts and chronicles of time " is the calmer looker-on.
We don't go to him for philosophical nor theological answers as such, but who is
ready to deny that Shakspere has done as much if not more than Dante to edu-
cate the world ? and the more we come to know Dante, the surer we feel he would
have owned to Shakspere's greater hold on the world as a teacher.
What an interesting study would this be on the comparative merits of the
two great poets ! Both believed in Hell and pointed out how it may be reached,
even before Death puts out our little candle here. Both believed and taught that
the toilsome ascent of Purgatory leads to Heaven at last, and both believed and
asserted that beatitude can be reaches! only through faith and atonement. We
feel thankful that we are so sure his Divina Commedia is not a futile expression of
mediaeval fancies, no more than Shakspere's plays are mere pictures of the spe-
cial times and men and women they represent.
Those who have read the Divina Commedia two or three times may not care
ever again to lose sight of the " Blessed Stairs " in the Inferno, but we must all
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1897.] The Columbian Reading Union. 429
come again and again to the dim, though peaceful, shades of Purgatorio, The
Second Canto of Purgatorio is too beautiful for analysis; in all literature there is
nothing sweeter, more soothing. We cannot read it too often. It is a lovely
picture — no tears, no bitterness in Purgatorio^ though there is intense prfin.
And who that has been once in Dante's Paradiso can resist the desire to return
again and again ? Perhaps the absence of exact system is not the least of our de-
light in this last section of the poem. The symbolism of the " Cross of luminous
Spirits," " The Eagle," ,*' The wonderful Rose," are trying to our dim under-
standings, but they make pleasantcr reading than Milton's Battalions, so sugges-
tive of a British military review.
St. Bernard's intimation to Dante that his slumbers are soon to be broken is
our final authority as to the Dream form of the poem. Perhaps, too, no part of
the poem better illustrates the incongruous blending of beauty and triviality, s«
marked a feature of all mediaeval art, than the commonplace figure of speech with
which the intimation is given, " We must, like a good tailor, cut our coat accord-
ing to our cloth." That from a saint in heaven goes with the gargoyles, etc.,
used in Gothic decoration. We have, doubtless, much to learn of Gothic art.
Some criticism vulgarizes great things ; our chief debt to Ozanam perhaps lies
just here, that he has endeavored to popularize Dante and has not vulgarized
him. The great poet is more and more for us as we learn to know him — the
great, the perfect Voice of many silent centuries.
Canon Farrar says the Divina Commedia is an autobiography like St. Augus-
tine's Confessions^ a soul-history like Faust, but attaining a far loftier level of
faith and thoughtf ulness and moral meaning ; of much wider range and intenser
utterance than Paradise Lost, Yet we are told Voltaire could see no beauty in
this poem; he thought the Inferno revolting, the Purgatorio dull, and the
Paradiso unreadable !
Farrar says the Hell of Dante is the hell of self ; the hell of a soul that has
not God in his thoughts, the hell of final impenitence, of sin cursed by the ex-
clusive possession of sin ; a hell which exists no less in this world than in the next ;
just as his Purgatorio reflects the mingled joy and anguish of true repentance,
and his Paradiso is the eternal peace of God, which we can possess now and
which the world cannot give and cannot take away.
PART SECOND.
Ozanam and Farrar, and all serious students of Dante, are of one opinion as
to the Divina Commedia containing the eternal elements of all true religion in the
life-history of a soul redeemed from sin and error, from lust and wrath and greed,
and restored to the right path of the reason and the grace which ennoble, to see
" the things that are as they are." With all due recognition of the claims of the most
worthy Dantean commentators on our gratitude, we are blest in the possession of
Ozanam 's study ; he is our greatest Catholic guide in the reading of the Divina
Commedia, as to its philosophical and religious meaning, and how worthily he takes
his place among all the noblest students of the great poem who have chiefly con-
fined their studies to the Commedia as a great aesthetic work. A great poem is a
Revelation, and Ozanam echoes the assertion of Lecky, who, with his singular elo-
quence, calls the Divina Commedia " the lost Apocalypse."
Ozanam is particularly anxious to impress upon us the dogmatic value of the
great vision, though we may be quite sure that Ozanam would be one with Canon
Farrar, for example, in this interpretation of the Inferno : Hell is the history of
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430 The Columbian Reading Union. [Dec,
a soul descending through lower and lower stages of self-will, till it sinks, at last,
into the icy depths of that Cocytus wherein the soul is utterly emptied of God and
utterly filled with the loathly emptiness, and so would Ozanam, the dogmatist,
we' feel sure, say that the Paradiso is the soul entirely filled with the fulness of
God.
If Ozanam 's work can rouse the studiously-inclined young men and women
•f our day to a careful study of the great poetic expositor of the Summa of St.
Thomas, what a noble work has he achieved !
There is so much flippancy in most of the popular literature, even the best-
minded run some risks as to false judgments on the great achievements of other
ages. When we realize the space so much of this latter-day flippancy occupies in
our reviews, we are justified in falling back on the great master-pieces.
Fancy such books as Marie Corelli's Sorrows of Satan and Barabbas stand-
ing as long on the book-sellers' lists as any of the best works of the past three
years ! Can we be.too deeply indebted to a gently-severe teacher who takes us as
Virgil took Dante through the Inferno, and shows us that Satan is not a flickering,
gentlemanly, philosophic man of the world, like Marie Corelli's conception ; no,
nor like Faust's Mephistopheles ; nor even like Milton's " fallen Cherub," but a
real three-headed monster, with faces yellow with envy, crimson with rage, and
black with ignorance ; not haughty, splendid, defiant, but foul and loathly as sin
itself?
Would it not be well to read Newman's Dream of Gerontius in connection
with Ozanam 's chapter on Good, and collaterally with the Purgaiorio f Ozanam,
Newman, Dante, and St. Thomas are all one as to this one great dogma. God
is our sole peace and joy. . . . As to the Commedta's claim on our admiration,
from a purely poetic point of view, who can set any limits to all that may yet be
said over and above all that has been said ? Andrew Lang may find many to
agree with him as to the direful effects of much of our so-called education, not
the least of which is the lowering of our standard of " critical consciousness " and
of our " critical learning." It does look as if we were paying the penalty of de-
mocracy — telegrams, newspapers, " popular education." and short-cuts generally.
It is for such organizations as the Reading Circles and Summer- Schools to work
with the great universities (as Newman conceived a university) to maintain the
great principles of education and criticism, and Ozanam is one with our erudite
Pontiff, Leo XIII., in evoking the great teachers of the great ages of faith ; and
who to-day, who claims a place among scholars, dares speak of the mouldy mid^
die ages f We need not fear, after reading the famous encyclical exhorting all
Catholic schools to return to the scholastics, to speak of Dante as the poet of
Christendom. The power of Dante is a problem Ozanam helps us to solve. The
fitness of Dante for all ages needs no other evidence than his undying hold on the
minds and hearts of men — even of the minds and hearts of men at the end of this
century, whose proud, but unfounded, boast it is to have outlived mediaeval sub-
tleties and rigid interpretations, and to have lost all reverence for scholastic nice-
ties of distinction.
Ozanam has not reached such growth ; he has all of Dante's and Pope Leo's
reverence for St. Thomas, " from whom nature withheld nothing — the Master of
those who know." It is from St. Thomas Dante learns in Paradise most of what
he tells us, and like his master, Dante holds that moral truths take precedence of
all others. We learn from him that to reach truth we must be docile, simple, pure,
*' like unto little children " said the Divine Master, who was pleased to say to the
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greatest of his interpreters : " Thomas, thou hast written well of me." Dante
holds, like his teacher, that genius itself cannot reach the inner meaning of certain
truths save through the cleansing fires of divine love. Is it surprising that so
much of our modern literature is incomprehensible ? How can an agnostic, self-
sufficient mind form an "equation with truth '* ? Can we be too grateful for the
help Ozanam holds out to us ? In all his works he aims at showing the close
relation between religion and science. He makes the middle ages his centre of
observation. The French knew only the Inferno before Ozanam translated the
Purgatorto, and 'all th*^y seemed to know of the Inferno was the hope- dispelling
inscription over the dark gates. They seemingly, also, found a ceaseless pleasure
in telling the dismal story of Francesca and Ugolino. Ozanam studies the life and
genius of Dante, gives us the general plan of the Divina Commedia as in a superb
tableau ; points out its historical meaning, its political, philosophical, and theolo-
gical value ; shows the Divina Commedia to be a grand panorama of general
history as seen by the light of science, justice, and love. No careful reader of
Ozanam will hesitate to say that he wrought to the utmost of his strength for the
glory of God and of his Christ.
Those who have ever been bewildered as to some of Dante's bitter utter-
ances against some of the undeniable abuses of his time and have been perplexed
as to Dante's orthodoxy, should read with especial care the fifth chapter of
Ozanam 's work. Nor would it be amiss tojook into the church history as to the
evils of the last half of the thirteenth century and all of the fourteenth and fifteenth,
to realize what led to the Council of Florence, what marred the orthodoxy of some
sessions of that memorable council. A dareful study of those troubled times will
make it easy enough to understand Dante's harsh treatment of certain churchmen.
Considering the Divina Commedia as an In Memoriam, it is not hard to show
how superior it is to Petrarch's Sonnets to Laura, to Milton's dirge L^cidas, to
Shelley's Adonais, and Tennyson's noble lament for Arthur Hallam. All these
are beautiful because not merely dirges, but the Divina Commediq transcends them,
not perhaps in expressed love for the lost loved one, but in the well-sustained
symbolism from the first starting out in that " dark forest " to the final full vision,
face to face, in Paradise. And we too ask ourselves, is disaster, then, what it
seems — something malign, the crash of fate, or but a specially magnificent scene in
that great, ever-renewed world — tragedy, which it is our human business to play
out within the eager cognizance of the spheres ? We are, indeed, given in specta-
cle to God and his angels, ay, and to one another 1
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232 New Books. [Dec, 1897.
"NEW BOOKS.
B. Herder, St. Louis:
The Catholic School Record of Attendance, Deportment, and Daily Lessons,
Prince Arumu^an, the Steadfast Indian Convert, Translated from the
German by Helena Long. Autobiography of Madame Guyon, Translated
in full by Thomas Taylor Allen, Bengal Civil Service (Retired). In two
volumes.
Benziger Brothers, New York:
Illustrated Explanation of the Prayers and Ceremonies of the Mass, By
Rev. D. L Lanslots, O.S.B.. with preface by Most Rev. F. Janssens.D.D.,
Archbishop of New Orleans. 7 he Mission Book of the Redemptorisf
Fathers : A Manual of Instructions and Prayers, A History of the Prot^
cstant Reformation in Enc^land and Ireland, By William Cobbett ; with
notes and preface by Francis Aidan Gasquet, D.D., O.S.B. Moral
Principles and Medical Practice. By Rev. Charles Coppens. S.J., Profes-
sor of Medical Jurisprudence in the John A. Creighton Medical College.
A Round Table of the Representative Irish and English Catholic Naifel-
ists. Blossoms of the Cross. By Emmy Giehrl.
Peter Paul Book Co., Buffalo, New York:
The Fugitives and Other Poems. By John E. Barrett.
Art and Book Co., London and Leamington :
St. Augustine and His Companions, Illustrated. From the French of
Father Brou, S.J.
Open Court Publishing Co., Chicago:
Karma: A Story of Early Buddhism. By Paul Cams. Illustrated and
printed by T. Hasegawa, Tokyo, Japan.
The Home Publishing Co., New York:
Susan Turnbull, Ballyho Bey, Both by Archibald Clavering Gunter.
Houghton, Mifflin & Co., Boston:
The Ruins and Excavations of Ancient Rome. By Rodolfo Lanciani, D.C.L.,.
Oxford, LL.D., Harvard.
Longmans, Green & Co., New York:
Stories on the Rosary. Part I. By Louisa Emily Dobree.
Catholic Truth Society, London (Paulists, New York) :
Wayside Tales. By Lady Herbert. Third Series. Nev^r edition. Paper
boards and paper. Our Angel Guardian. By Rev. H. Schombcrg
Kerr. S.J.
Uptown Visitor Publishing Co., New York:
Laying the Hero to Rest. By Edward Doyle.
John Kehoe, New York :
Columbus System of Vertical Writing, Books i-6,
Charles H. Kerr & Co., Chicago:
Dan the Tramp, By Laura Hunsaker Abbott.
D. Appleton & Co., New York :
The Scholar and the State, By Henry Codman Potter. D.D., LL.D.
The Macmillan Co., New York;
Corleone, By F. Marion Crawtord. In two volumes.
American Book Co., New York. Boston, Chicago :
A School History of the United States, By John Bach Mc Master.
G. P. Putnam's Sons, New York:
The Man of the Family, By Christian Reid.
Government Printing-office, Washington:
Losses in Boiling Vegetables, etc.
Longmans, Green & Co., New York :
The Pink Fairy Book. Edited by Andrew Lang. The English Black
Monks of St, Benedict. By Rev. Ethelred L. Taunton. Two volumes.
The Diary of Master William Silence : A Study of Shakespeare and of
Elizabethan Sport, By the Right Hon. D. H, Madden, Vice-Chanccllor of
the University of Dublin.
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2 S A New Year's Present
* warranted to last one year !
of
ni The Catholic World Magazine
I -€F0R 1898.*-
J This representative Catholic magazine puts always before
J its readers the best thought in science, art, and literature of the
living Catholic writers. No home into which it comes twelve
times a year can be one where the weighty topics of the
day are unknown or ignored. Its pictures, stories, and
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NEW YEAR'S NUMBER
of The Catholic World Magazine, 120 West 60th Street*
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"I COME,'* THE New Year saith, **unbid by man.
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THE
CATHOLI
Vou LXVI. JANUARY, i8^8.^__!;i^>^0. 394
She FJoyal (Qessengei^.
' I come," the JN|eW Tear saith, ^'unbid by man,
And all the World must look upon rr|y face;
And some thro' sorrow's tears my >7isage scan,
Q)tri\;ing to see thereon one touch of grace.
come, and mar\7el at tf|e crouching fear,
Which souls display when | in silence take
1 he 0ld Year gently fronq f|is darkened bier,
And bid the World to joy aqd rapture Wal^e.
*'© Weary hearts! thiqk^ ye I come alone,
CJnaided, and a wanderer from some clime?
I hink ye that in my soul no loN7e is soWn,
I liat I, unguided, Winged t\\e aisles of l ime?
**jNay, for a jiand ^upren^e to me Was gi\7eq,
And I Was led adoWn the shadowy land;
I am the gift of naught saN7e \\ope and l]ea\7en,
loidden by (giod to speak, Tlis higl] command."
Charles Hanson Towne.
CopTright. The Missionary Society of St. Paul the Apostle in the
State of New York. 1897.
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434 Practical Citizenship. [Jan.,
PRACTICAL CITIZENSHIP.
No. I.
BY ROBERT J. MAHON.
E hears so much of spoken patriotism in politi-
cal discussion of the better sort, that we may
fairly assume it has much to do with political
measures. If the fact be otherwise, we are
clearly in a famished state of public life ; a con-
dition of pessimism that no American will openly admit.
National instinct rebels against the menace and grasps at the
tokens of past valor for country. In time of national peril we
have been intense patriots, and a glory to independent nations.
The late Civil War showed that patriotism was a general vir-
tue, comn]on to every race, creed, or class that formed the
American people. In time of peace patriotism has been allowed
to become, at times, a glorious sentiment, well used in the past,
and capable of great use in the future ; but a sentiment only
for the present. Yet the need for continuous and unremitting
exercise of patriotism clearly exists. The nation, state, or city
is still the creature of those who compose the body politic.
Those who have the sovereign power of suffrage may within
certain limits mould the commonwealth according to their de-
sire. With this power resting in the suffrage, and that so uni-
versal and unrestricted, the active components in the body
politic become the real rulers.
If a large class or body do, of choice or habit, abstain from
participation in the political measures of the day, they remove
themselves from their place of control, and resign their abso-
lute right into the hands of those who remain active. In
effect this aloofness from political activity gives a greater power
to those remaining in the field than was intended. When we
consider the question of public control by the majority, we
not seldom find that control is really held by an actual minor-
ity. While this paradox in a republic of unrestricted suffrage
may seem astounding, it is not the less actual, and it is made
possible by a false conception of the duties of citizenship. It
is almost axiomatic, that where one has power, duty also is
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1898.] Practical Citizenship. 435
imposed. Yet thousands, in our very city, regularly abstain
from the mere use of the suffrage without the slightest ap-
parent sense of harm done or duty omitted. When in theory
our government rests on the suffrage and other political action
by all the citizens, and the contrary is the fact, there is some-
thing substantially wrong in the working of the theory. Yet the
result is but the natural sequence of a well-known and pitia-
ble cause : the miserable inaction and total surrender by thou-
sands of their political rights. The men of average intelligence
who believe that all political duty is fulfilled by registry and
voting, present the most pathetic picture of innocence betrayed.
Year after year they manfully vote for the candidate offered
them, though having quite as much to do with his selection
as a candidate as the men of Borneo.
If the source of political power were in theory delegated to
a body of twenty men, and if five of them resolved, for reasons
of their own, to remain inactive, eight of the political body
would have actual control, although a minority. There would,
of course, be much condemnation of the five who, by omission of
duty, made this minority control a reality. The political critic
would have a full opportunity for philippics t^ntil the offending
five were brought back to duty or shorn of the power they pur-
posely abused. Turning the pye on actual political conditions
in our country, we find a precisely similar situation in many
communities. Not only do a minority of suffragists hold a
seeming control in many places, but actual rule is maintained
by a very small portion of that minority. Instances of this
general condition might be easily given, but we refrain. The
timid souls who fear that discussion of political duties may
seem untimely or out of place, can as easily supply the special
cases according to desire or prejudice.
While we have no wish to take up here the cudgels of de-
bate for any political belief or mode of action, we are in-
tensely earnest in the conviction that citizens have certain du-
ties imposed as well as privileges given. If. they will only
realize these duties and fulfil them, there is no disposition to
go further. If political conditions are at all awry, upon whom
shall we fix the blame ? Surely not upon those left in control.
Who shall condemn ? Surely not those who profit by their con-
trol. The political mercenary can pick no quarrel with our
discussion ; it has so little to do with him, and so much to do
with those who have abdicated in his favor. We neither abuse
nor cajole him. He has been cunning enough to make the
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436 Practical Citizenship. [Jan.,
political business of many people his exclusive matter, relieving
them of all care and attention, and making out of it the larg-
est possible profit. Day in and day out, all through the year,
he has been unremitting in his attention to our affairs, gobbling
up our duties with eager maw. This has been custom. As
some pundits say custom makes law, he has become a law un-
to himself.
But this is a long digression from the patriotic idea that
provoked the discussion. Patriotism is not a rare virtue, nor
does it exclusively attach to any political belief. It is, happily,
a common American attribute, welding a great people for noble
purposes. Applied to the body politic by every citizen in
every political requirement of his duty, it would breathe a pure
spirit of unselfish devotion to the city, die state, and the na-
tion. It would dispel the self-interest that so often disheartens
the well-intentioned. It would bring together all who are of
one accord, yet separated by false and misleading lines of
division. This is.boshr says- the veteran politician; we're tread-
ing on air. To be sure, he would not openly make these com-
ments ; but he would sincerely believe it. To such a degree
have citizens generally neglected their patriotisni by avoiding
political duties, that the politician would now view activity as
pure meddling. He is mistaken, but honestly mistaken ; be-
cause he has developed under other conditions, and those have
seemed so permanent, sufficient, and comfortable that it is a
personal hardship for him to act under other and better con-
ditions. There is immensity of difference between having to
do with ten or twenty men, and arranging for the political ac-*
quiescence of thousands. And this is emphatically so when
the thousands are unselfish, earnest, and patriotic. For in the
main, if you find the citizen unselfish in his political relations
and patriotic in his motives, you will find a tower of strength
in aid of all that is good for the city, the state, and the na-
tion.
The body affectionately and sonorously described as "the
people " is to the political humorist a source of infinite joy.
There is such an immense amount of fun in the notion that
" the people " are really running their political business, that
political satirists and cartoonists make small fortunes expanding
the idea. And yet always in humor there is much of truth.
Consider how much of truth is in the political cartoon of *' the
people "; and if the shot aims itself at your conscience, do your
utmost now and henceforth to repair your past omissions.
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I898.J
Remanded.
437
REMANDED.
BY REV. P. A. SHEEHAN,
Author of •* Geoffrey Austin^ Student,^
I.
TELL the tale as 'twas told to me. And it was
told by a venerable old man, almost blind, as he
stood by the battlements of the bridge one sunny
day, and I looked from his intelligent face into
the clear, swift waters, or watched the long
plumes from a passing engine fading into the clear sky.
It was not on this bridge it happened, but on this bridge's
predecessor — a long wooden structure that was swept away in
the great flood of '41, when the big elm was blown down, the
sister of that splendid tree that now throws its rugged branches
far and wide across the road, and seems to be looking for its
souls of roots far down beneath the loam of the meadow. It
was the time of the yeomen. Bitter and black are the
memories which that word calls up to the Irish mind. And
the yeomen of this particular little town by the Blackwater
were a particularly detestable specimen of their class. They
hated the people — they hated, above all, the people's priests.
It is not kind to recall it in these peaceful days, but history
is history. And they had a particular, undiluted, undisguised
hatred for one priest, who was correspondingly beloved by the
people, and his name was Rev. Thomas Duan. Why he was
so detested by the yeomen history does not tell, but they say
he had a sharp tongue, a fearless eye, was cool, firm, dauntless,
and when he smote he struck straight from the shoulder, and
the man that was smitten remembered it. And he flung the
shelter of a protection, that was Providence sin miniature, over
his shivering flock ; and woe to the man that touched with a
wet finger the little lambs of his fold ! The wolves might come
prowling around, and show their teeth and , snarl, but they
feared this strong shepherd with the keen gray eye, and slunk
from him with the flame of hate and the might of vengeance
in their hearts.
But Fate played into their hands. Was it Fate, or that
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438 Remanded. [Jan.j
Higher Power that rules our fate ? No matter. Suborned and
perjured, one lost soul swore informations against him ; and
eight gentlemen yeomen passed here under the arching elm,
and across these waters, to his home at Sandfield to arrest him.
It was cheerful v/ork; yet somehow their hearts misgave them.
They had not come into close quarters yet with this giant.
They had never yet touched the supernatural. And they knew,
and believed, and felt that a halo of the supernatural floated,
like a spiritual essence, around this frieze-coated priest. Could
they break through that they would arrest him and hang him
like a dog. As the savages on Tahiti, the moment they lost
faith in the godhood of Captain Cook, fell on him and tore
him in pieces ; so our brave yeomen, who thought as lightly of
a hanging as of a ball or a spin with the hounds, would gladly
touch and maul and quarter this rebel ; but — here again this
supernatural burst on them.
" We want your master, the priest Duan ! "
" The priest has . just left, and is now crossing yonder
bridge ! " And the old housekeeper stretched her skinny hand
towards it.
" It's a lie ! WeVe just crossed the bridge, and no one
passed us."
" It's the truth. I saw the priest turn to the left and pass
to the town."
** The woman speaks the truth," said Bambridge. " The
priest passed us and ye did not speak."
** Then you saw him ? "
• "Yes, I saw him ; he passed outside us nearer to the road.
I would have spoken tp ye, but I thought — "
**You thought—?"
** I thought ye., were afraid."
"What! afraid of a popish priest?" But their lips were
dry and white. They went home.
So did Bambridge, anxious and afraid and puzzled. He
would solve that puzzle. He opened a drawer and took out
a horse-pistol, such as they swung from saddle-bags when on
the Croppy-track, lit threw a bullet twenty yards ; and the
Croppy-pike didn't reach so far. That explains a good deal of
Irish history. ^ , ■
Bambridge rang the bell : " Call Nan."
A poor old, shrivelled, wrinkled creature came into the
room, looking questibningly, pityingly, out of rheumy eyes, at
her master. He rarely saw his old nurse, but he loved her.
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1898.] Remanded. 439
Times were changing. He had often been asked to send away
that old witch, but he would not.
" Sit down ; and answer me truly, as you value your life.
You see that pistol? I wouldn't harm a hair in your old
gray head, Nan," he said, softening, and rubbing down the
poor old white wisps that lay beneath her cap. "But this is
life or death to me." He moistened his dry lips before he
spoke.
** What happened when I was born ? "
She looked up frightened.
"What happened when I was born?"
She took up her apron and folded it with clammy hands.
** Once more. What happened when I was born?"
" God forgive me," whimpered the old woman, " but I bap-
tized you a Catholic ! "
"Did my mother know it?"
" No ; I did it in my own room. You were wake and con-
vulsed, and I said I'd save your soul. I brought you back,*
and your mother kissed you, as if she knew something. Of
coorse the minister christened you after ; but I didn't care. He
couldn't do you any harm."
The grim man smiled. "That'll do, Nan!" he said.
The next day the priest strolled over to the nearest magis-
trate, and asked was he wanting? Yes. He came to be ar-
rested. They wouldn't offer such an indignity to a minister of
religion ; but, you krtow, informations have been sworn, and
the case must go on. They would take his own recognizances,
on a single summons, to appear at Petty Sessions Court on
Tuesday. So far all was smooth.
Then human passion blazed up, as the smouldering furnace
fires leap into swords of flame at the breath of the south wind.
Fear, the servile fear of the poor, whipped Celt, leaped from
white ashes into white flame ; and the recording angel, if he
heeded such things, had a well-filled note-book during these
days.
Tuesday came, and a motley procession moved up the hill
with the gruesome title of Gallows HiU, on the brow of which
the court-house stood. They were sad at heart. Their priest,
their hero, was cowed. He had said last" Mass on Sunday, and
not a word came from lips that were always feathered with the
fire* of zeal or holy anger. They had crowded up to the altar-
rails, men and women — and children jSeeped between their
fathers' legs to see the great gladiator, who Vas to laugh at
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440 Remanded. [Jan.,
and discomfit his foes one of these days. Now for an ava-
lanche of ^ thunderous denunciation — a stern, awful defiance of
the foe — an appeal to the down-bending heavens to justify him,
and mark, by some awful vengeance, its condemnation of his, and
their, and God's own enemies ! They swung from the iron rails,
they panted with excitement — the holy place alone prevented
them from uttering their faith and their everlasting trust in
his holiness and purity. Oh ! but for one word from his lips.
No!
'' In the law of Moses, it is ordered that such a one should
be stoned. What therefore' sayest thou ? But Jesus, bending
down, wrote with his finger on the earth."
Three times he repeated the words : " But Jesus, bending
down, wrote with his finger on the earth."
And then he asked : " What did he write ? We shall see."
The people wondered, and were sad. And so, on this fatal
morning, they climbed the gruesome hill with sad hearts, and
sad forebodings as to what the day would bring.
II.
Clayton, of Annabella, was chairman of the court. Two
magistrates sat with him, one on either hand. They looked
disquieted, and seemed glad to study the ceiling rather than
the sullen faces that gloomed under shaggy eyebrows and un-
kempt hair. The chairman was defiant with the defiance of
levity. He smiled at the surging mob that poured into the
court-house and filled every available space, bit his pen, took
notes or sketches, looked everywhere, except at one face ; that
alone was calm and unmoved in the little drama. There was
some delay, and then the court open^^d-. A few uninteresting
cases of drunkenness and petty squabbles were heard. Th<en
the chairman stooped over ^ his desk and whispered to the
clerk. The latter looked anxiously around, peering into every
face. He was disappointed. With a smothered curse Clayton
dropped back into his arm-chair, and whispered to his brother-
benchers. There was an awkward pause, and something like a
titter passed around the court. These quick-witted people were
not long in divining the cause of the embarrassment of the
bench. After some communing the case was called — The King
vs. Thomas Duan. The indictment was read, the witness
called. *'Abina Walsh !" rang through the court. There was
no response. "Abina Walsh!" rang through the corridors, was
taken up at the doors, passed down the street, until its echoes
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were tost over the demesne wall, and the rabbits pricked their
ears, rubbed their whiskers, and listened. There was no reply.
The titter deepened into a broad smile, that spread itself over
sallow, grimy faces; and the smile deepened into a laugh, un-
til a roar of laughter rang through the court, and the magis-
trates grew red and furious, and the clerk roared " Silence."
One face alone was unmoved^ Once more the name was
called; the echoes died away, the chuckle of the people was
checked.
'• The court stands adjourned."
" Yoii mean the case is dismissed ? "
" Certainly not. The accused is remanded to this day week.
There is some foul play here,"
Then the priest spoke, and the people hung on his lips.
" There is foul play," he said slowly and solemnly, — " foul
play for which the doers will answer before a higher tribuival
than this. You say I am remanded ? "
"Yes; the case will come on this day week. We shall
again accept your own recognizances to appear before me on
that day."
" To appear before you ? " echoed the priest.
"Yes," replied the chairman. "Here, Til put you on oath.
Come hither ! " He held out a tiny book, corded round.
The priest approached and solemnly laid his hand upon
the book. Their fingers touched.
"I swear—"
"I swear—"
" To deliver myself up to you for trial — "
"To deliver myself up to you for trial — "
" On next Tuesday — "
"On next Tuesday—"
"March 29—"
"March 29—"
" So help me God ! "
"So help me God!"
The people poured out of the court-house and down the
hill, murmuring,, laughing, questioning, doubting, fearing, denying.
" Why the divil didn't he cling them to their sates ? "
" He's toa aisy altogether with them ! "
"Wait, an' you'll see. Didn't the ould fellow look black,
though. I wonder where is she ? "
"The divil flew away with her. Sure he was lonesome
without her ! "
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442 Remanded. [Jan.,
"May the Lord spare us till next Tuesday, however! Won't
there be fun? He's going to do somethin'."
"He looks too quiet to be wholesome. I'd give a whole
week's wages to see Clayton's black mug again, when he called
on Abby. Sweet bad luck to her!"
" Dey say the whole country will be riz before Tuesday."
" No, no, no ! we'd rather kive it to himself. He's enough
for them."
But pikeheads were sharpened in many a forge ; and down
where the willows drew their fingers through the swift waters
there was a massing of men, and a lifting of hands to heaven.
III.
That night a wild beast howled until the early watches
around the priest's house. It was the wail of a hungry wolf ;
yea, rather, the moan of some beast in pain. At intervals of
five or six minutes it beat around the house, coming from the
thickets of speckled laurel, and going round and round the
dwelling, then wailing into silence again. Once or twice the
priest, as he sat in his wicker chair reading his breviary, thought
he heard the tap of fingers at his window, but he said it was
the trailers of the jasmine or clematis that were lifted by the
night-wind. But when eleven o'clock chimed, he -rose and
passed out into the moonlight, and peered around. The glis-
tening laurel-leaves looked meekly at the moon, and the lattice-
work of the nude trees threw its netted pattern on the gravel ;
but there was no one there. Three times he walked around
the house, studying every nook and cranny to find the weird,
uncanny voice. Then he paused, and listened in the moonlight
to the murmur of the river as it fretted over the ford beneath
the bridge. He did not see two gleaming eyes that shone in
the thick darkness of a shrubbery close by — eyes that gleamed
with despair and one little ray of hope, that just now was fad-
ing away. Where was her guardian angel that moment ? Where
the last mercy, that would drag her, despite herself, from that
retreat, and fling her on her knees for pardon from the man
she had so foully wronged ? Alas ! these things are beyond
our ken. During ten long minutes of grace he stood there,
unconscious of the presence near him, listening, half in a
dream, to the music that came from the river and the night-
silences. Then he passed into the house and turned the key
in the door. It was to her, poor soul ! the rolling to of heaven's^
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gates — the crash and clangor of bolts and locks that shut her
out of Paradise for ever!
In the gray dawn of the morning the water bailifif, who
was coming home from his night-rounds on the river, saw
something black, where the river lipped the sands, just below
the deep hole called the Bulwarks. He went towards it and
turned it over with his foot. Before nine o'clock it was known
to every man, woman, and child in town that Abby Walsh,
the perjured and suborned girl, had been drowned. Crowds
came to look at the black heap lying on the gray sands, but
no one touched it ; and there it lay, the March sunshine play-
ing on it, and making its own lustre amongst the black wet
garments, whilst the river came up like a dog which, having
killed its prey, returns to worry the dead bird or beast, and
lifted one cold hand, and washed around the naked feet, and
played with the black fringe that fell from the shawl of the
dead girl. It was only when the dusk was falling that the
priest heard of this frightful thing, and he hurried down to the
big meadow, and very soon stood amongst a curious but most
irreverent throng.
" We wor only waiting for your reverence to see her, till
we threw her back into the river," said big Dave, the smith,
black, brawny, and fiercely and aggressively honest.
"I'm surprised at you, Dave," said the priest gently. "You
weren't at Mass on Sunday."
Dave looked confused. And the priest, moving down along
the sand, stood over the dead.
" Such of you," he said, with just a suspicion of contempt
in his voice, " as were at Mass on Sunday may remember the
gospel I read, and the remark I made. There may be out-
casts from the bosom of God — sheep whom the Good Shep-
herd has not found. But it would be the wildest presumption
in you or me to judge those whom, perhaps, God himself may
judge only with a heart of compassion. I told you, I think,
that the Master stooped down and wrote on the sands. So
do I."
He stooped, and with his forefinger drew letters on the
sand; but the tradition, is that each letter disappeared as he
finished it, and to this day it is a matter of conjecture what
the letters signified, and many a fierce debate has taken place
in forge and tavern as to what the priest wrote on the strand
near the Bulwarks,
" Now, I said to you," continued the priest, raising himself,
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444 Remanded. [Jan.,
and he stood head and shoulders over the tallest man present,
"that what the Master wrote we shall see. We have seen
something," he said, pointing down to the dead figure ; "whether
it is his justice or his mercy we do not know. But we shall
see more. Go, Dave, and fetch a coffin." He walked up and
down the sands, reading his breviary, till the men returned.
" Now raise this poor girl, and remember the Magdalen and
Christ."
But not a man stood forward. Their horror and dread were
beyond their compassion. They stared at this man, who was
giving them such unpleasant shocks, and they sullenly shook
their heads. "Touch her — God forbid! Our children and our
children's children would not forgive us."
Then the priest took off his great frieze coat, and went
over and kneeled down by the prostrate figure.
" Oh, don't ! oh, don't ! your reverence," wailed the women.
Then they turned angrily on the men : " You big, lazy hounds,
don't you see what his reverence is doing?"
Two or three big, hulking fellows stepped forward. But
the priest waved them back, and, gently putting his strong
arms around the dead girl, he raised her up and moved
towards the rude coffin. As he did so her head fell back,
and one arm dropping down, a paper fell from her hand, and
five bright, wet sovereigns rolled upon the sand. One little,
ragged urchin leaped forward to seize the prize, but big Dave
caught him by the collar and swung him six feet away amongst
the ferns, saying :
" You little cur ! you'd take her blood-money." So there
the sovereigns lay, bright and round, under the cold, steely
sky, but though many an eye hungered after them, no hand
would touch them. Meanwhile the priest had lifted up the
drooping head, from which the long, black hair was weep-
ing, and, placing his hand under the neck, drew the face up-
wards. And men will swear to this day that the eyes of the
dead opened on his face, and that the white lips moved
to thank him. But he, the " Kalos poimen," the beautiful
shepherd, whose prototype was so familiar to the hunted
Christians of the catacombs, saw nothing, but reverently placed
the poor dripping figure in the coffin, reverently straightened
the head and covered the naked feet, and th^n placed and
fastened down the lid.
" Perhaps," he said, with the slightest touch of sarcasm,
" you expect me to take the coffin to the grave ? " But those
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fierce people were beginning to be awed by this wonderful
man — more awed than ever they were by his thunders from the
altar, or the fierce invectives that he exulted to pour forth
against the enemies of his church and people. With shamed
faces, four men stepped forward and slung the coffin on their
shoulders. The priest moved to the front, and a wondering
crowd followed.
When they emerged into the main thoroughfare there was
again a pretence at rebellion.
"To the Banfield, I suppose, your reverence?" said the
coflGn-bearers. The Banfield was the local Haceldama, the
place for the nameless and outcast dead.
"Certainly not," he replied, without looking back, "down
to the church-yard."
To the church-yard, where their own dead reposed — their
decent fathers and mothers and children! To place this per-
jured suicide amongst the good Catholic dead ! What next ?
With bent head and hands firmly clasped behind his back
the priest moved on. Great pity filled his heart. The thought
of that woman's wail last night, his own possible neglect in
not seeking her and saving her ; the slender chance of salvation
which was held out to her, and which was snapped, perhaps, by
his stupidity or negligence ; the remembrance of that upturned
face, so beautiful, so pitiful, even the little human feeling of
patronage and protection (almost the only human feeling a
priest is permitted to entertain) as the head of the dead girl
rested against his breast — all these things filled him with such
pity and divine love that he almost forgot his own great
wrongs. But, then, Irish priests are fatalists. They are so
habituated to the drama of relentless iniquity that is always
going on around them — the striking of the feeble with the
mailed hand, the chaining of the captive to the victor's car, the
sleek, hypocritical but unbending despotism, under which the
helpless victims hopelessly writhe ; the utter despair of all, as
destiny for ever mockingly weaves her webs of hopes, and then
as mockingly destroys them. All these things make the Irish
priest patient under circumstances that ordinarily drive men
to madness. He has to lean on some dim philosophy that the
wrong side of the tapestry, with blurred figures and ugly colors,
is turned towards him ; and that it is only when he goes above
and looks down he will see how fair were the patterns of the
Almighty, how brilliant his colors, how faultless his designs.
Some such thoughts ran through the priest's mind as he passed
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446 Remanded. [Jan.,
down the thronged street, whilst the crowds looked at him
and wondered. Then one wave of awful indignation against
his pursuers swept these tender thoughts away. But he tried
to suppress it. And it was then, whilst, yet quivering under
its excitement, he approached the gate that led into the grave-
yard, that some one came to him and said : " They have
locked the gate."
He looked up. The gate that opened into the avenue
that led down to the Protestant church, around which were
located the resting places of the parishioners for six hundred
years, since the old abbey was founded, was locked and chained.
The sight of this new assertion of supremacy goaded him to
anger.
" They drove her to death," he said, " and they refuse her a
grave ! ** And running down the little steep, he struck the iron
gate with his shoulder, flinging all his strength into the assault.
The rotten chain parted, the lock was smashed in pieces, and
with a suppressed cheer of triumph the people swept into the
broad avenue. They chose a quiet, green spot for her burial,
down near the wall that cuts off the big meadow. There the
priest's mind went back to the little child that had learned
" Hail Marys " at his knee, to the young girl that had re-
ceived her First Communion from his hands, to the bright
young woman who was the idol of her father, to the wailing
soul around his house last night, to the poor suicide by the
river's brink — to this poor coffin, this lonely grave ; and he
said, as he turned to his little cottage : " Thy ways are upon
the seas, and Thy pathway on the waters, and Thy footsteps
are not known."
IV.
The quick impulsiveness of the Celtic nature hates the silence •
of mystery, and — dreads it. It is eager to get behind the veil,
and will sometimes drag it down to discover its secrets, but
always with a dread that the discovery may lead to something
uncanny and unwholesome. The impatience of the people,
therefore, in this little drama, to hear what their priest was
going to do had reached its culminating point on the Sunday
morning after the discovery of the dead body by the river;
and at last Mass on that day the congregation was a dense,
close mass of humanity that pressed against the iron rails of
the sanctuary, was packed against walls and pillars, and over-
flowed beyond the precincts of the little church far out to the
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gate that opened on the street. Crowds had come in from the
country districts — strong, prosperous farmers on their horses;
laborers with rough, red breasts opened freely to the March
winds, with just a pretence of protection in a rough, homespun
jacket of flannel, tied in a knot at the waist ; tradesmen with
some distinguishing mark of their occupation ; a crowd of
women and girls drawn hither in curiosity and fear. And one
hope was in all hearts, that this day the avenging power of the
Almighty would be explained and a clear forecast of future im-
pending judgments be given. There was something very like
a smile around the firm, curved lips of the priest when he
turned towards his people at the Post-Communion of the Mass.
He knew what was expected, and he knew they were going to
be disappointed. He read a long list of names of deceased per-
sons to be prayed for, and he closed the list with the name
of Abina Walsh, who died during the week. Usually a deep
murmur of prayer follows such announcements in the Irish
churches. This day there was sullen silence. The priest looked
them over calmly for a moment, rolling between his fingers the
list of names. Then he said :
" How often have I told you, in the words of our Divine
Master : You believe in God ; believe in me ! You might have
learned this past week that God's arm is not foreshortened,
nor his eye made blind to the iniquity that pursues us. Yet
you forget. Your solicitude for me blinds your faith in God.
Fear not, for I have no fear. I do not miscalculate the malice,
nor the power underlying that malice, that seeks my life —
or what is dearer than life, my honor. But so far as this little
drama has proceeded the machinations of my enemies have
been checked, and God — and I, his unworthy servant — have
been justified. What the future will bring forth I know not ;
but I know He in whom I trust will deliver me from the toils
of the hunters, and the bitter word. It is not for myself, it is
for you I am solicitous. It has come to my knowledge that
several young men amongst you contemplate violence next
Tuesday, should an adverse decision be given against me on
evidence which again may be suborned. I beg of you, as you
love me, I implore of you to desist from any demonstration of
force on that day. I know that you will only be playing into
the hands of your enemies. Large forces will be drafted into
town next Tuesday. I don't want to see you falling under
the sabres of troopers or the musket butts of the yeomen. Be-
lieve me, all will be right.' God^ will justify me ; and before
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448 Remanded, [Jan.,
the red sun sets you will know who hath the power — the Un-
seen Judge of the living and the dead, or the hirelings of
perjurers and despots."
A deep breath was drawn when he had concluded. The
women were satisfied — their faith always leaps highest. The
men were not. They hated this mystery. They hoped he
would appeal to their manhood to defend him. They grudged
the defence to God. And when the priest, about to leave the
altar, turned once more to exact a promise that there should
be no violence, the young men sidled out of the church, and
to the request that all hands should be raised in promise, only
a few trembling old men raised their half-palsied hands and
instantly lowered them.
And so there was no surprise on the eventful day when,
every shop shuttered, every door closed, the streets were paraded
by bodies of young men who walked with a kind of military
precision, but apparently had no weapons of offence. Those
who were in the secret understood that in yards and recesses
arms were piled. And wlien a strong phalanx of laborers en-
tered the town from the north and took up their places in
front of the court-house, leaning, as is their wont, on their
spades, every one knew that these light spade-handles were
never intended to battle with the brown earth, and that some-
where away in these voluminous flannel vests the Croppy-pike,
with its sharp lance, the hook to drag down the hussar, and
the sharp axe to cut the bridle, were hidden. And it may be
said that not fear, but the joy of battle, filled these honest hearts
when, just at ten o'clock, a troop of dragoons, with drawn sabres,
moved slowly down the main street, and drew up in two lines
close to the demesne wall and opposite the court-house. The
soldiers were good-humored, and laughed and chatted gaily.
Their officers looked grave. So did the mounted yeomen that
acted as a body-guard to the magistrates, who, under the
sullen frowns and muttered curses of the people, took their
way up the hill to the trial that was to be eventful for them.
But there were no shouts of execration, no hysterical demon-
strations of hate. Neither was a single shout raised when the
priest moved slowly through the thick masses of the people.
But every hat was raised, and women murmured ** God bring
him safe from his enemies ! " For it was generally supposed
that the indictment would not fail, even though the principal
witness was dead ; there was a deep suspicion that some clever
machination would yet involve their beloved priest with the
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law ; and •' you know, Clayton is the divil painted, and he can
do what he likes with the rest." It was some surprise, there-
fore, to find that Clayton had not yet appeared. Eleven o'clock
struck. The crowds that crammed the court-house began to
grow curious. It was the scene of last Tuesday repeated : anx-
ious magistrates, a bewildered clerk, a jeering, sullen crowd,
one calm figure — but the central seat on the bench was empty.
At last the case was called : The King vs. Rev. Thomas
Duan. The prosecutor arose, fumbled with his watch-chain,
looked feebly at the accused, mumbled something about with-
drawing the case, he had understood witness — the chief wit-
ness, could not appear, etc. The magistrates declared the
case dismissed. The crowd, taken by surprise, looked stu-
pidly at the bench and at one another. Then a shout
that made the old roof tremble filled the court ; it was taken
up outside, and the cavalry drew their bridles, and backed
their horses, and clutched their sabres, as the roar of triumph
was taken up and passed from lip to lip, until the hoarse mur-
mur filled the air and the people seemed to have gone mad
with joy. In the court-house, however, not one stirred. The
magistrates on the bench looked as if glued to the seats ; the
people waited the signal from their hero. He rose slowly, and
said in his quiet, emphatic way :
"You say the case is dismissed. The prisoner is not dis-
missed as yet."
"Oh, yes!" said the magistrates, "you may go."
" Thank you ! " he said, contemptuously. Then, knitting his
brows, he bent them on the quailing justices, and in a voice full
of wrath and indignation he cried :
"I took a solemn oath before the Most High God last Tues-
day that I would deliver myself into his hands for trial to-day.
We held the Book of the Gospels together, and my hand
touched his. I am bound by that oath to deliver myself into
his hands to-day. Where is he ? "
"We don't know," replied the magistrates. "He is not
here,"
"Then I go to seek him," said the priest, turning to the
door.
The vast multitude poured out after him, as with long strides
he passed down the hill-side and emerged on the square. Here
the shouting was again taken up, hats were waved — but all were
stilled into silence when they saw the grave man moving rapidly
onward, looking neither to the right nor to the left, and an
VOL. Lxvi.— 29
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450 Remanded. [Jan.,
awed and silent multitude following. Then the whole multi-
tude fell into line, and, with wondering eyes and parted lips,
followed the priest.
It is a long, narrow street, curving in a crescent from bridge
to bridge, and extending probably about a mile from the ex-
treme end where the court-house was situated to Annabella
House, the residence of the magistrate, Mr. Clayton. Silent
but tumultuous in their actions and motions, wondering, curious,
afraid, the great crowd poured in a rapid stream, swelled here
and there by contingents from narrow lanes and side streets.
The priest walked five or six paces in front. No one spoke
to him. He moved along quickly, as one questing for some
object that might evade him, his head erect, and the ordinary
pallor of his face heightened by a pale pink flush. In less
than ten minutes he stood at the iron gate that led into the
park, and the multitude swept around him in curves that grad-
ually thickened into one compact mass of humanity. It was a
bright March morning. The black buds were just breaking
into tiny beads of soft green. A heavy dew lay on the grass,
and was smoking under the sun-rays except where the shadows
of the elms fell. The house, a square mansion, without pre-
tensions to architecture, looked very white in the morning
light, and the shuttered windows stared, like the white eyes of
a blind man, at the sky.
*' No man passes this gate but myself," said the priest. ** I
go alone to see what awaits me."
A murmur of disappointment trembled through the crowd,
and some ragged youngsters, to console themselves, clambered on
the walls, from which they were instantly dislodged. The priest
closed the gate, and moved along the gravelled walk to the house.
The blinds were down and the shutters closed. He knocked gen-
tly. No answer. Then imperiously, and a footman appeared.
" I want to see your master, Mr. Clayton ! '*
" You cannot see him," said the man angrily.
** I insist upon seeing him," said the priest. " I have an en-
gagement with him."
" You cannot see him," said the man nervously.
** Take him my message," said the priest : " say that Thomas
Duan, priest and prisoner, must see him."
*'Take your own message, then! cried the man as he
passed into the kitchen.
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The priest walked up stairs,' whither the man had pointed.
He paused on the lobby uncertainly, then pushed open a half-
closed door and entered. The room was dark. He opened
the shutters and drew the blind. Then even his great nerve
gave way. For, lying on the white coverlet, dressed as it
going out, lay Clayton, his head shattered into an undistin-
guishable mass of bone and blood, his brains blackening the
white wall behind his pillow, his right hand clutching a heavy
pistol; and there, by his side, was the mouldering, disinterred
corpse of Abina Walsh, the face just darkening in incipient
decomposition, and the brown earth clinging to her bare feet
and black clothes. The priest could not restrain a cry of
horror as he rushed from that awful chamber of death.
Whatever he had expected, it was his intention to give himself
up formally into the custody of his enemy by placing his right
hand on Clayton's and interlocking his fingers, as had happened
on the day when he took the oath. But all other feelings
vanished at the dreadful spectacle he had just witnessed. Full
of horror and self-humiliation at the sight of such awful retri-
bution, he passed rapidly to the gate. Then raising his sonor-
ous voice to its fullest pitch, he said to the expectant multi-
tude :
" Go back to your homes, and fall upon your knees to im-
plore God's mercy. And let them who have touched the dead
beware ! " Then, in a lower voice, he said almost to himself :
" I know not which is more dreadful — the wrath of God or
the vengeance of man ! "
For years Annabella House lay untenanted. It was believed
that no human power could wash away the dread blood-stains
on the wall. Paint and lime were tried in vain. Even when
the mortar was scraped away, the red stains appeared on the
masonry. About thirty years ago the mansion was pulled
down, and the green grass is now growing on the foundations
of a once famous mansion.
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452 American Art/sts in Paris. [Jan.,
Blancheof Castile, instructing the child St. Louis. — Cabanel ; Jiura*
Painting in the Pantheon,
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1898.] American Artjsts in Paris. 453
AMERICAN ARTISTS IN PARIS.
BY E. L. GOOD.
HE mystery and charm of artist life in Paris
have haunted the imaginations of American
boys and girls until the benches of the Julian
Academy are recruited quite as much from the
backwoods of Tennessee as from the high-
schools of Boston and New York. It takes pluck and devotion
to study art abroad on a scanty income. Most of our country-
men do it, and it is gratifying to see the work of Americans
^in the Luxembourg Gallery sharing the honors with the greatest
artists of modern France, and, indeed, of this century. Harrison
-and Melchers, Dannat and Macmonnies, Whistler and Sargent
are there represented, and Melchers — ** Garry '* Melchers, a De-
troit boy — has been honored with an order to fresco part of
the Congressional Library now building in Washington. The
projectors of the Boston Library entrusted similar work to the
celebrated Puvis de Chavannes, and than his France boasts no
prouder name to-day. His frescoes in the Pantheon will be a
wonder and delight for all time. They represent scenes from
the life of St. Genevieve, the patron saint of Paris, and form
one of a series of groups of historical paintings by the masters
of French art. It is interesting to note that these Pantheon
" frescoes " are in reality oil paintings on canvas stretched on
leaden plates and sunk in the walls. A fresco painter, using
a lime wall as his basis, is seriously hampered in his choice of
colors, because the lime quickly destroys some of them. On
the Pantheon canvases he was free to use any tint in his box,
and as colorists the modern French artists have never been
equalled. The incarnate splendor and aerial delicacy of their
canvases suggest brushes dipped in the evening sky. No tint
so subtle, no texture so gossamer fine as to baffle their clear
vision, and even the " old masters " would, I think, be willing
to forego a few moments of heavenly glory to look at the
Pantheon frescoes and see the primary colors in their nineteenth
century combinations.
But to return to the Americans. It is at the Acad^mie
Montparnasse that most of the American girls study. Colin, Mer-
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454 American Artists in Paris. [Jan.,
son, and Macmonnies are instructors there. The Julian Academy,
which is the best known of the Paris schools, is frequented more
by men. J. P. Laurens and some other of the best artists in the
city teach there. The students study from a living model.
When a sketch is especially good it is selected for criticism at the
" Concours," a kind of official monthly examination, and those
whose work is thus distinguished have first choice of the posi-
tion in the room from which they wish to draw the model dur-
ing the next month. This, in a class of sixty, is a great ad-
vantage. To have a drawing taken for the Concours is enough
to exalt one of these enthusiasts for days. Their lives are not
too full of encouragement. A man may work for weeks with-
out a word of either praise or blame from Laurens, or what-
ever great man makes the tour of inspection. Notice of any
kind from him is greedily watched: for and enviously noted,
and butterless bread and over-black coffee turn to nectar and
ambrosia on the day the coveted word falls. Unfortunately,
it is not always a word of encouragement. Whistler was one
day passing a man who had just rubbed out his work. Whis-
tler remarked : " That's good."
Barring the pursuit of a purely religious ideal, I know noth-
ing like devotion to art for developing a spirit of self-sacrifice
and cheerful endurance. The romantic notion that the lives of
artists in general are jolly and free from care is a pleasing
fallacy which promptly vanishes on acquaintance with their
daily routine. ** It's not all beer and skittles," says Trilby,
which means that poverty, hunger, and cold are hard facts in
the Latin Quarter as well as on the East Side. One comes to
know the impecunious art student by a certain far-away look
in the eyes and bagginess in the clothes. The girls wear Tarn
o' Shanter caps, or " berris," and short capes like a policeman's.
The eight hours daily at the art school are entirely unremun-
erative, so most of the students' teach between hours, or illus-
trate for the magazines as " a pot-boiler." The. cheapest way
to live is to rent a very small room up a great many pair of
stairs. There is the cost of lighting, and heating, and keeping
enough of a kitchen to make a cup of coffee, which, with a
roll, is all anybody takes for breakfast in Paris. If one is hun-
gry and can afford it at noon, there are tempting buns and
cakes to be had for a few sous, but in the evening one really
dines at some tiny restaurant for anything between one franc
and three. Yes, one can live — but not grow fat — on a miracu-
lously small sum. Then there are chances like that of winning
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1898.] American Artists in Paris, 455
St. Francis of Assisi dying and blessing his native 1o\nn.—BinottvilU.
the Prix de Rome, which gives four years of study free. Then
is found, now and again, the wealthy patron who takes a lik-
ing to the young artist, and there follows a modern fairy-tale
such as was enacted on the steamer on which I crossed last
summer. The attention of the passengers was attracted to a
young man in the steerage who was clearly the social superior
of his fellows. On being questioned, he said he was going to
Holy Viaticum in Burgundy.— 6V7/»iJt7«.
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4S6 American Artists in Paris. [Jan.,
Munich to study art. He had saved one hundred dollars. Of
this he had spent twenty-five for his passage. He had neither
friend nor introduction in Munich. His new acquaintance
showed some of his pencil sketches to a critic on board, who
pronounced them excellent ; whereupon a kindly old gentle-
man, who had stimulated these inquiries, sent for the young
artist, invited him to remain in the first cabin as his guest dur-
ing the rest of the voyage, and on parting gave him a letter
of introduction to the editor of iht Fliegende Blatter.
Not infrequently the art student falls in arrears for the rent
of even his airy perch on the ^' sixitme,'' and landlords have
scant sympathy for beings who can " soar to the empyrean,"
but can't pay cash. One young man, six months in arrears,
knew that his landlord was keeping a watchful eye on his
trunk, which stood opposite the door, feeling sure that whilst
it was there the owner would not depart. Our artist painted a
portrait of his trunk on the wall opposite the door, and in the
night took himself and his belongings quietly away ; nor was
he missed for several days.' Good work sometimes serves very
inartistic ends. An American boy or girl may live very com-
fortably at the American Girls' or Boys* Club for sixty cents
a day "tout compris." The American Girls' Club is located
4 Riie de Chevreuse. It is more a family hotel than a club
house. Any American woman studying a profession in Paris
will be received there. There are Thursday evening "At
Homes," and five o'clock tea (" feev o'clock tay " the French
call it) is served every afternoon. Visiting Americans are wel-
come on these occasions, and everything is done to make the
club as home-like as possible.
When a young artist has a picture accepted for exhibition
by the Salon he has taken the first step towards fame. He is
then an ** arrive," and the envy of the Latin Quarter. A favor-
able criticism, a purchaser, a medal, are more steps, until, little
by little, the successful artist becomes more widely known than
the president of a university. The red ribbon of the Legion
of Honor, a decoration bestowed by the government for excel-
lence in the arts, has been won by several Americans ; and so
jealously does the Republic guard this honor that any one who
wears a bit of red ribbon fastened in his button-hole, without
having won it in the legitimate way, is liable to arrest. Mel-
chers, Macmonnies, Harrison, and Whistler belong to the Le-
gion of Honor.
Melchers has studied much in Holland. In his painting en-
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1898.] American Artists in Paris. 457
Le Pain "Bt^n.—Dagnan-Bouveret,
titled " Mother and Child," in -the Luxembourg, the influence
of Dutch art is apparent, although the child might stand for
the type of nestling, cooing babies the world over. It is the
admiration and despair of the strivers, and " the Melchers*
baby " enjoys a distinct and enviable social position in art cir-
cjes.
Whistler and Sargent have lived so long abroad that one
is apt to forget their American birth. James Abbott MacNeill
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458 American Artists in Paris. [Jan.,
The Dancing GiKL.—Sargent.
Whistler lives now in Paris. He is slight in figure, and dresses
with the utmost care. He rarely appears without, a monocle, a
high hat, and clothes of the latest cut, in violent contrast to
most of his colleagues. There are dozens of stories told of his
pugnacious, erratic disposition, but those who know him say
that these qualities are the result of the opposition he encoun-
tered at the beginning of his career, and were not in the man's
original make-up. He was a pioneer in art, with strong, per-
haps extravagant, convictions. He painted in the " Impression-
ist " style, which was new and quite unintelligible to the casual
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1898.] American Artists in Paris. 459
observer. He was laughed at, mocked, then called hard names.
Dr. Johnson's test of the strength of his own writings was the
measure of the resistance they excited. From this stand-point
Whistler should have been abundantly content with himself as
a force. The famous trial to which he obliged Ruskin to sub-
mit has its pathetic as well as its humorous side. Out of it
grew Whistler's book, ** The Gentle Art of making Enemies^ as
pleasantly exemplified in many instances wherein the serious
ones of the earth, carefully exasperated, have been prettily
spurred on to unseemliness and indiscretion, while overcome by
In the Covstky ,—Leroiies.
an undue sense of right." The trouble arose out of the accept-
ance of a painting of Whistler's by Sir Coutts Lindsay, for
exhibition and sale. It was entitled ** A Nocturne in Black and
Gold," and represented the fireworks at Cremorne. Ruskin,
then dictator in matters aesthetic, published Fors Clavigera about
that time, and in it appeared the following criticism of the Cre-
morne piece :
** I have seen and heard much of cockney impudence before
now ; but never expected to hear a coxcomb ask two hun-
dred guineas for flinging a pot of paint in the public's face."
Whistler sued for a thousand pounds damages for libel.
During the trial " sarcasm and repartee were the order of the
day. Lord Harcourt, the lawyer for the defence, asked Whistler
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460 American Artists in Paris, [Jan.,
if he thought he could explain to one of the uninitiated, a person
like himself for example, wherein his Cremorne piece represented
fireworks. After regarding attentively, first the canvas, then
Lord Harcourt, Whistler replied : " No ; it would be as hopeless
as pouring music into a deaf man's ears." Although the honors
were his in point of rejoinder throughout the trial, the verdict
could hardly have been satisfactory. The jury awarded him
damages to the amount of one farthing. Nevertheless, his work
has stood the test of time, and the public are beginning to per-
ceive wherein it is great. The Portrait of his Mother in the
Luxembourg is eloquent of the quietude, serenity, and gentle-
ness of honored old age. There is not a tone in it higher than
gray, but we can fancy the odor of lavender floating out from
the lace ruffles falling over the slender hands, and we are sure
the lady's voice is low-toned and a trifle tremulous. We feel,
too, that she would have gently remonstrated with her son for
remarking that that picture was ^'the finest thing in the gal-
lery," even had she shared that estimate, lofty but not preva-
lent.
In contrast to this " symphony in gray " is Sargent's " Ballet
Dancer," gorgeous in yellow skirts, her eyes flashing, her lips
smiling, her light weight poised never so airily on the tips of
her toes, and all but whirling across the canvas. Sargent is
best known as a portrait painter. His method is to begin and
finish a portrait, at least in the rough, in one day. After con-
versing with his subject and noting characteristic expressions
and poses, he paints the head in rapidly. If, at the end of the
day, he has not caught the likeness, he paints the whole thing
out and begins afresh the next. He is said, in one case, to
have painted the portrait of e lady twenty-two times before he
got what he wanted.
Harrison has a very interesting canvas in the Luxembourg.
A boy stands at the stern of a row-boat about to plunge into
the cool depths of a dark blue pool overhung by dense foliage.
Harrison posed his boy model every evening for two weeks at
the end of a boat, while he made a study of him from the
shore. After that he went to his studio, took up his colors
and began this painting.
Macmonnies has an exquisite group in the gallery of sculpture.
He is very popular with art students, and the day after he was
decorated with the ribbon of the Legion of Honor the stu-
dents of the Acad^mie Montparnasse came to his studio simi-
larly bedecked, willing to brave the challenge of a gendarme in
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1898.] American Artists in Paris. 461
their desire to pay a tribute to their master. The organization
of the New Salon has encouraged the younger artists. This
exhibition takes place every spring in the Palais de Tlndustrie.
Portrait of his Mother.— «^A«//^r.
It is less conservative than the old Salon and has been severely
criticised for fostering a tendency towards the extravagant, the
bizarre — a tendency already too pronounced in French art.
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462 American Artists in Paris. [Jan.,
Every one now aims at a piquant, " original " style, and tries to
be a law unto himself. The study of the old masters is more
and more neglected, and students turn out surprising and
erratic compositions in hopelessly bad taste and quite meaning-
less, forgetting that a good " style '* is but the form in which
an idea naturally expresses itself, and when one has no idea to
express all styles are equally uninteresting ! To invent a new
style, in the hope that the public may mistake it for an idea,
is foolish ; yet a young man painted a girl's head adorned with
dark brown tresses, sent it to the New Salon, and got it back
with thanks and regrets. Without altering any other detail, he
repainted the hair with peroxide of hydrogen or orange chrome,
producing a wonderful carroty hue. Under a nom de plume
he sent it again to the judges, when lo ! it was accepted.
Ruskin has said : " No great intellectual thing was ever done
by great effort. A great things can only be done by a great
man, and he does it without effort.'* Once in a century comes
a genius whose thought outruns the mould of existing forms, and
he creates a new style because he must. Wagner did it, Brown-
ing did it; but they made their style to fit their ideas, not
their ideas to fit their style.
The Impressionist and Plein-Airist schools are to Whistler
and Chase what the fugue and sonata forms were to Bach and
Beethoven, and the feeble work of would-be rivals makes one
sigh for that happy 'time whereof speaks Mr. Kipling :
" When earth's last picture is painted
And the tubes are all twisted and dried.
When the oldest colors have faded,
And the youngest critic has died ;
We shall rest, and faith we shall need it,
Lie down for an aeon or two,
Till the Master of all good workmen
Shall set us to work anew.
"And those who were good shall be happy,
They shall sit in a golden chair.
And paint on a ten-league canvas,
With a brush made of comet's hair ;
They shall have real saints to draw from,
Magdalen, Peter, and Paul,
They shall work all day at a sitting.
And never get tired at all.
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1898.] American Artists in Paris. 463
" And none but the Master shall praise them,
And none but the Master shall blame,
And no one shall work for money,
And no one shall work for fame ;
But each for the joy of the doing,
And each in his separate star
Shall paint the Thing as he sees It,
For the God of Things as they Are."
I am, nevertheless, loath to see in existing mannerisms and
affectations a sign of decadence. This century has been the
golden age of modern art, and France its centre. Her artists
have held the mirror up to Nature, and never before has she
seemed so passing fa'lT.' The modern painting, like the modern
novel, portrays human life, human passions, pain and joy as they
have never before been portrayed. It is humanity longing,
suffering, exulting, that lives and breathes on the canvases of
Levy, Lenepveu, Cabanel, Bouguereau, Constant, and De Cha-
vannes. True, we miss the spiritual, and look in vain for a
Madonna who is aught but a beautiful and winsome woman.
It was the glory of the ages of faith to give us those incom-
parable conceptions of the Madonna, her pure face beaming
with "a light that never was on land or sea," the light of her
soul enshrined. The fifteenth century was the century of
Madonnas, of the Ideal in art. The nineteenth is the century
of Men and Women, the century of the Real. Both are great.
Need we decide which is greater? Does not each represent
the highest point reached by two very opposite systems of
thought, and is it not a difference of kind rather than of
degree ?
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BY JOHN JOSEPH MALLON.
LING off the masks, for gowns and placards fail,
Proud Temple paragons — both scribe and sage-
Who trace with guilty hand the sacred page!
Faithless to law, your words o'erweening quail
When speaks Judea's all-wise Son. O frail
And meek-eyed truant Boy, to rank and age
Thy ministry's calm arguments still wage
A storm of wonder ! Does naught else prevail ?
Wide gaped long since its portal, and the wall,
Battered and crumbling, ruined lies whereto
In youth's white livery Thou didst fulfil
What time destroys not, nor can words undo :
Thou whom the ages yet to be shall call
Young Thought-provoker, Seer inscrutable !
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1898.] Ruins and Excavations of Ancient Rome. 465
THE RUINS AND EXCAVATIONS OF ANCIENT
ROME.*
BY REV. GEORGE McDERMOT, C.S.P.
*R. LANCIANI is professor of ancient topography
in the University of Rome, and his reputation
as an archaeologist is world-wide. In the work
before us he proposes to supply to students and
travellers a guide to the antiquities of Rome.
The excavations that have been carried on up to' the present
moment have placed before archaeologists such an amount of
information to extend, to verify, or to control, that in existing
historical and archaeological works it may be safely said very
little more can be learned about the growth of the Roman
state, or the life and manners of all classes of the Roman people.
Their history, public and domestic, from the foundation of the
city until the fall of the Western Empire, passes before us in
the illustrations and text of this book like the unrolling of a
panorama. The author professes to supply a guide-book to
students and travellers, but he unconsciously assumes that
students must be travellers to some extent and travellers
students to the entire extent. We consider this was unavoida-
ble from the mass of material, and perhaps from the tendency
of experts to take it for granted that amateurs are better
informed than they really are. At the same time the work can
be read by amateurs with advantage. The arrangement of sub-
jects is as favorable to properly understanding them as their
number and variety will permit, and the author's style, though
sometimes labored, is, upon the whole, illuminated by that
scientific imagination which paints in the mind a system of in-
quiry as distinctly as historical intuition will perceive the mean-
ing of facts of a remote time, or as the poetic fancy will shape
the forms by which passion and emotion are to be revealed.
Before entering on the subject which Dr. Lanciani's work
suggests to us — the development of Roman society as testified
by the remains which lie on and beneath the surface of ^the
great city — we think it right to state that the author, notwith-
*By Rodolfo Lanciani, D.C.L., Oxford, LL.D., Harvard. Boston and New York:
Houghton, Mifflin & Co.
VOL. LXVI. - 30
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466 Ruins and Excavations of Ancient Rome. [Jan.,
standing the modesty of his purpose, supplies, even to those
advanced students who wish to make Roman archaeology a
special study, such references to standard works that they can
hardly be less indebted to him than are the class of readers he
chiefly had in mind. And this means a great deal within the
limits to which he has confined himself, for if he were to give
all the standard authorities on subjects or parts of subjects in
the volume before us, he would simply convert it into a catalogue.
This maybe seen from these facts. Up to the year 1850 there
were a thousand volumes on Roman topography, from the
hands of one hundred and twenty-four standard authorities.
The number has doubled since. On the River Tiber alone
four hundred valuable works were published before 1880, and
what may be calculated to take one's breath away is, that in
the one year 1891 there were issued on the history and topogra-
phy of the city four hundred and twenty-four publications of
one degree of value or another. When we reflect on the part
Rome has played in the history of civilization, we cannot think
this evidence of curiosity and the desire to gratify it at all to
be regretted.
The first illustration we have in Dr. Lanciani's work is a map
of the ancient city, executed with conspicuous knowledge and
fidelity. Everything connected with the topography and hydro-
graphy of Rome is illustrated in a manner to make the text
impart information to the reader as exactly as if he lived in
the time of Augustus and had the same passion for antiquities
as the elder Cato or Cicero. Living in the closing years of the
nineteenth century and knowing the resources of modern sani-
tary engineering, we cannot forget how slow cities have been to
adopt sanitary reforms. Overcrowded dwellings are still a dan-
ger in many European and American cities. In many Euro-
pean cities the drainage is defective and the water-supply
inadequate. The same could be said of most American cities
in both or one of these respects up to a most recent date.
The Romans lived in a walled city — for we may reject con-
sideration of the extra-mural population, both because of its
comparatively small number, its more or less floating character,
and the more favorable conditions with regard to health un-
der which it lived — but notwithstanding that they lived in a
walled city, the public drainage system of the Romans seems
to have been efficient. The water-supply is not, upon the
whole, surpassed by that of any modern city now ; and it was
immeasurably beyond that of any modern city until a few
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1898.] Ruins and Excavations of Ancient Rome. 467
years ago. It was made to keep pace with the growth of the
population, improving as this increased, so that there can be
no question but that, when the number of the inhabitants was
highest, Rome had. between what was brought from great dis-
tances and that within the local watershed, as liberal a supply
as when the wells within the wall oi Romulus amply sufficed for
the needs of the few shepherds and robbers that formed her
earliest inhabitants.
It is wonderful when we look back to the earliest time of
the city, guided by memorials of all kinds to be found at dif-
ferent strata, to observe the success with which the first
Romans and their successors coped with the constant inunda-
tions from their unruly river and with the difficulties inseparable
from a site consisting of promontories and isolated hills rising
from swamps easily flooded. Embankments and drains, river chan-
nels and canals, resisted or directed the rising waters in the only
way possible to reduce danger to a minimurn ; but the frequent
sweeping away of bridges, the waves spreading into the adja-
cent low parts, and sometimes foaming against the sheer cliffs
of the hills or washing the more graduated elevations we have
called promontories, proved that Father Tiber broke at times
from the control of his children. However, we can offer one
speaking proof of the triumph of their drainage. In the early
period under the kings — assuming the tract of time commonly
so-called to be correctly characterized by this title — malaria
rested on the lower parts of the city and frequently found its
way to the abodes upon the Palatine and other elevations. A
temple was erected to Fever, and later on three temples to the
same maleficent power testified to the havoc which the malarial
situation wrought among the citizens; but a time came when
public works on a vast scale and executed with more exact
engineering skill obtained the victory. Rome enjoyed almost
complete immunity from malaria until the Barbarians, in the
fifth century of our Lord, broke aqueducts, choked drains, cut
embankments, and thereby turned the levels between the hills
once more into a swamp.
The consistent policy of Rome at all times was to make
the performance of public works the office of men influenced by
a fofty sense of duty and responsible to the state. We have
heard so much of farmers of the public revenue, the robberies
of proconsuls on a gigantic scale, the smaller spoliations of
procurators, the venalty of public men, long before the end of
the Republic, that we are tempted to jump to the conclusion that
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468 Ruins and Excavations of Ancient Rome. [Jan.,
any considerable amount of drainage and water-works, road-mak-
ing and schemes of colonization, were attempted only a short time
before the rise of Marius, and only expanded to an extent com-
mensurate with the greatness of the state after the battle of
Actium placed the world at the feet of Augustus. We are
tempted for that reason, also, to think that whatever works of
the kind were accomplished in the days of the Republic yielded
to commissioners and contractors spoils that would match
those of a Verres or a Lucullus. How else could the order of
knights, a moneyed class, arise? In the time of Marius
foreigners were said to believe that everything was sold in
Rome — the advocacy of a senator, the justice of the august
assembly of the Conscript Fathers, the services of the consuls,
the interest of tribunes, the final judgment on appeal of the
haughty Plebs itself Yet, for all that, public works were over-
seen by commissioners with strict integrity, and they would be
executed by contractors with fidelity, because these could not
receive back the deposit made by them aCs security for per-
formance until forty years use, in the case of a bridge and
analogous constructions, proved the solidity of the work. A
like deposit and a like test vindicated fidelity to contracts in
other kinds of public work, though at a distance from Rome ;
whether the work were the making of a new "colonial" road,
the raising of an embankment, the drainage of a town just
planted, or the building of its market-place. In this universal
and constant vigilance we see one cause of that expansion and
long term of sovereignty which make the life of Rome for the
twelve centuries from Romulus to Augustulus a thing apart
in its character from every civilization that had preceded,
though in some respects all civilizations had contributed to
form it. The very polity of Rome speaks in her public works,
as in the conscientious manner of their execution. Solid and
enduring as the Seven Hills, they were to last with the rule
typified in Jupiter Stator. Nor has that prophetic conception
of lasting power been altogether defeated. Wave after wave
of invasion swept over the realms she swayed, broke in pieces
the monuments she constructed, blotted out her institutions, but
her influence still remains. Nations still march along the roads
she made, fleets ride in her roadsteads, administration walks in
her precedents, the municipal laws of every civilized land rest
on her jurisprudence.
Although much of what is called the history of the kings
and early consuls is fabulous, still we have in the monuments
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1898.] Ruins and Excavations of Ancient Rome. 469
of all kinds evidences of a growth born of policy and public
spirit, ascending through^ stages from the rule of a robber chief
over his banditti to that sovereignty under which 120,000,000
of people lay down in a peace the like of which the world had
not known till then, and has not experienced since. The
thatched hut of Romulus and the palaces of emperors and
patricians stand at the extremes of architectural evolution, as
the raids of the robber chief touch one end and the majesty
of the Roman peace under Augustus touches the other of po-
litical evolution. Our author's system, to a large extent, shows
Rome's progress by the method of architectural development.
It is history written in monuments of stone and metal, of
fresco painting and statuary adorning private houses and pub-
lic edifices, and these monuments tell much to him who can
read them. But this is not the gift of every one called
an archaeologist, and we have theories apparently framed to
attract attention, but without real relation to the details upon
which they stand or which they purport to explain. In these
we find we have been led by a mirage instead of gazing on a
living scene. We can suppose the city looked down upon from
the Capitol by Manlius as the Gauls moved in the early dawn,
and that he discovered the indistinct masses separating from
the houses, trees, and fixed objects of the landscape, and that
he could grasp the situation at once without being informed
by the cackling of the sacred geese ; but we cannot suppose
the whole story a fiction invented to account for the title Capi-
tolinus, bestowed upon the man subsequently executed as a
traitor because he espoused the cause of the poor. The sack
of Rome must have been complete, because all documents, pub-
lic and private, perished. The Roman annals really date from
the restoration of the city after the departure of the Gauls, but
there were monuments not lost in the fire and which escaped
the destroying hands of the invaders. These were tombs,
temples, stone houses, medals, statues, pillars on the highways,
or at street corners, which contained inscriptions and reliefs.
We have them to read into and control the tradition which
Livy has embodied in his history with such effect.
Our author gives incidentally an explanation of the rather
long time spent in breaking down the bridge over the Tiber to
check the advance of the great array of the Tuscans under Lars
Porsena, which the reader will remember is the subject of Macau-
lay's fine ballad " The Lay of Horatius." His explanation upsets
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470 Ruins and Excavations of Ancient Rome. [Jan.,
a theory that the whole story, like that of Manlius Capitolinus,
is an aetiological legend. The Romans were still too " moral "
to use iron implements in the Age of Bronze in repairing
or breaking down structures of a quasi-sacred character such
as this bridge, which was the oldest in Rome. Apart from
any historical value, the suggestion has interest as a circum-
stance in the study of the origin of religion and social de-
velopment generally. But without saying the historical char-
acter of the story is entirely rehabilitated by Dr. Lanciani's
valuable bit of archaic information, we think there is enough
in the whole matter to prevent us from rejecting Horatius even
as a myth ; while we hold it criticism run mad to maintain
that the defence of the approach while the bridge was being
broken down is all a fiction. We have the high authority of
our author for the existence of the bridge long before that
tinie ; to that we add the statue in the Comitium, the grant of
land to Horatius, and the double current of tradition keeping
the main facts of the. defence of the bridge, while differing only
in dividing the glory of the achievement ; and these, we hold, are
elements sufficient to support a story whose main features are
characteristic of the tone and temper of early Roman feeling.
We might point out, from the instance of another bridge
mentioned by Dr. Lanciani, the process by which historical
criticism, working in an opposite direction, attains results that
are not always to be relied upon. There is no mention of the
Bridge of Agrippa in histories, medals, monuments, coins, in-
scriptions of any kind. No one ever heard of it until the re-
cent discovery of a stone cippus containing an elaborate in-
scription of an order of Tiberius, in which the name of the
bridge appears as one of the limits of an area included in
the order. Now, if perchance a writer like Tacitus men-
tioned that an event happened in the reign of Tiberius at the
Bridge of Agrippa,. the suggestion of severe criticism, if at all
favorable, would be that the historian assigned the incident
to the wrong place. But if other points in the narrative
showed that, whether there was a bridge there or not, the
writer meant this spot and no other, severe criticism would
reject the passage as spurious if it stopped there, instead
of treating the entire work as a forgery of a later age. If
we had space, we could show that a number of plausible
theories would springy to life from such a passage, no two of
them agreeing. There would be the theory of an interpolated
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1898.] Ruins and Excavations of Ancient Rome. 471
passage in a genuine writer of the time ; there would be
that of a forgery of the middle ages, notwithstanding
that the work was in the Latin of the last days of the Aug-
gustan age; there would be a theory that the passage referred
to an event that must have happened after the first years of
Caracalla, because he built a bridge there ; there would be a
theory that there was a Tacitus of the time of Caracalla who
possessed for that reign the sources of knowledge, and the way
of employing them, that his prototype enjoyed for the early
Caesars.
Passing, however, from the question of critical theories, we
recall our readers' attention to our statement that the Hut of
Romulus (Domus Romula) gives us an idea of the stage of so-
■cial development which the founder of Rome and its first
settlers had reached. We may interpose that what was called
the Hut of Romulus was the habitation of his foster-father,
Faustulus, who received him and his brother, Remus, and brought
them up there, as the old legend tells. Viewed in this way it
IS justly described as the Hut of Romulus, and, of course, would
appeal more directly to the descendants of "the wolf-bitch
brood," that would die hard when overpowered by numbers,
like the wolf among the dogs, until all foes found, as Pyrrhus
had found, that a victory was as costly as a defeat. Until
the middle of the fourth century of the Christian era the
hut was preserved by periodical renewals of the thatched
roof and wooden frame-work. But it was not the only type
of- prehistoric dwelling preserved through the influence of sacred
traditions. There was the other hut of Romulus on the Capitol,
and the similar prehistoric structures, one group called the
•chapels of the Argaei, and the structure known as the Focus
of Vesta. The same words were applied to all of them: "they
-were made of woven osiers or straw," " they were covered with
straw," " they were made of reeds and straw."
All traces of these have disappeared except the foundations
of the hut referred to as that of Faustulus. These were dis-
■covered not long since in that area rising from the steps of
Cacus, and within which stand the ruined arches that formed
the substructures of the palaces of Tiberius, Gaius, and
"Germanicus. Within less than a bow-shot of each other we
thus find memorials of the two extremes of architectural, and
consequently of social, development. The foundations of the
Hut of Romtilus (Faustulus) are blocks of tufa forming a par-
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472 Ruins and Excavations of Ancient Rome. [Jan.,
allelogram thirty feet long and seventeen feet wide ; but these,
of course, were placed as a pedestal, or rather platform, to
preserve the memorial associated with profound national and
religious memories. By themselves, then, they would be rather
calculated to mislead than guide the historical imagination in
reconstructing the hut — for the shape must have been that of
an ellipse and not of a rectangle — but they afford proof of the
tradition that the House of Romulus stood there until the middle
of the fourth century. The House of Romulus, clearly, had a
definite shape, which architects recognized as distinctly as they
would one of the orders of architecture. The Romans brought
it with them to foreign lands, and accordingly we find, from in-
scriptions in Proconsular Africa, that a tomb built in the shape
of this elliptic hut is described as a Hut of Romulus. In
connection with this matter we may mention a very interest-
ing discovery in the necropolis of Alba Longa, in the year 1817.
There was found the model of a hut made in clay by an Alban
shepherd about the time of Romulus which gives the type
perfectly. Already the plastic skill by which the Etruscans
were distinguished above the other Latin tribes must have
penetrated the dwellers of the wild regions of the lower Tiber ;
and this suggests the idea that a degree of social advancement
had been reached when Romulus appeared to infuse that policy
into his followers which in succeeding ages stamped itself upon
the civilized world. Of course we, only offer it as a suggestion,
but to the philosophical mind which recognizes how much
epochs depend on men, it cannot be without some force.
Putting aside, then, consideration, of the steps of evolution,
we shall close this article with a word or two about the palaces
whose remains are near the foundations of the Hut of Romulus.
We assume that the highest stage had been reached. We do not
believe in an indefinite advancement through purely natural
agencies, any more than we accept the theory that the rise of
Rome was due to the extinction of the individual in the state,
and not to the possession of great natural virtues in successions
of distinguished men, and to a somewhat elevated moral standard
among the people at large, on which the exceptional virtues of
those distinguished men acted with great power until the era
of luxury set in to sap the virtue of both patrician and ple-
beian. Not believing in such unlimited advancement, we hold
that the culminating period was attained when Augustus could
sit in his room — locus in edito^ as Suetonius called it — and see
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• below and afar the transformation of the great city from brick
to marble going on before his eyes. From that moment no
improvement was possible except in those things which
ministered to a luxurious refinement.
Accordingly the palaces of the Roman nobles became
museums for everything that was rare and costly in art, their
table a feast in which invention was exhausted on what every
sea and land contributed of its best. The group of buildings
we are to speak about communicated with each other and with
the palace of Augustus. Of this last we shall say nothing;
nothing of its great entrance, of its Temple of Apollo, its
Portico of the Danaides ; its Greek and Latin libraries, forming
one section, as Ovid would say, dedicated to Apollo ; of its
Shrine of Vesta, forming another section ; of the imperial
quarters, filled with the master-pieces of Greek, Tuscan, and
Roman genius, forming the third section, and which, the
same courtly poet would tell us, was the part reserved by the
Imperator for himself.
We shall take as a type the beautiful house of Germanicus,
the beloved of the people. Most probably its state of pre-
servation is due to this love. On entering the part of the
house used for reception, you did so by an inclined vestibule
paved with mosaic, and found yourself in a forecourt (atrium)
with a like pavement. The altar of the domestic gods was
there, and we may assume that statues of the ancestors stood in
niches. Opposite you three halls opened, one on the left
divided by slender columns, around the shafts of which ivy
and vines are festooned. The central hall, you will find, is
adorned with columns like the one you have just looked into,
but the frescoes on the walls must take possession of your soul
for the interest of their subjects, if you are a Roman of the first
century, and for the design and execution, if you have as
much taste even as that cave-dweller who carved with such
spirit on the walls of his home the great beasts who were his
contemporaries. It is impossible to convey the impression pro-
duced upon us even in the guide-book tones of Dr. Lanciani.
The picture in the Induction to the " Taming of the Shrew,*'
or the life and movement so manifold and wonderfully
wrought by the workman Vulcan on the shield of Achilles, will
give an idea of how the incidents of this scene are made to live.
It is one in the life of Polyphemus — a long-drawn-out agony
and rage, relieved with suggestions of humor and soft-
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474 New Year's Day. [Jan.,
ness, acted in a Sicilian sea with a background of rocky
coast.
There are other pictures ; one interesting to the student of
social science — a street-scene with houses of many stories on
either side. A woman, followed by her attendant, knocks at
one of the doors, and four or five figures appear at the windowte
or on the balconies to make sure who is seeking for admittance.
Now, to the sociologist the very high houses convey a suggestion
of insanitary conditions, but to us the charm of the association
lies in the touch of humor and fancy, showing that the artist
of the first century had a mind and a hand like Hogarth,
and the Romans of the time tastes like our own, so that we
are all of the one human kind, countryman or stranger, bond
or free, prehistoric men who drew their moods of laughter with
fishbones steeped in some unmanufactured dye, as well as those
who tell them to-day with the last aids of art. With these
words we leave the work in our readers' hands.
NEW YEAR'S DAY.
St, Luke it, 21.
HE red cloud in the sky at morn's first light
Presage of coming tempest doth disclose :
The red dawn of to-day's mysterious Rite
Christ's Passion-storm of blood and death foreshows.
Eleanor C- Donnelly.
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1898.] Three Christmas Eves. 475
THREE CHRISTMAS EVES.
BY AGNES ST. CLAIR.
I.
[^ARSE EGLETON, Miss Fanny. I ast him in
de parlor 'cause you was busy in here, and I
reckoned you'd want to primp and friz some
'fore you seed him."
A young woman, slight and fair, turned
quickly from the picture about which she was twining holly
and mistletoe branches as a grizzled old colored man thus
unceremoniously announced her visitor.
•'Bring him right in, Uncle Regulus. It is too cold in that
coQxn for any mortal being. There hasn't been a spark of fire
in there to-day."
Frances tucked under the sofa-pillow the apron she had
worn, and her fingers played a moment among the bright curls
over her brow.
" Miss Fanny, you gwine spile dat man 'fore you marry
him. Lawd knows what you gwine do ater'ards."
" In the meantime you'll let him freeze in that cold parlor.
I shall tell. him how disrespectfully you speak of him, and see
how much 'Christmas' you'll get to-morrow," laughed Frances,
balancing a sprig of holly, red with berries, above the picture
of her fianc^.
" Guesis Marse Egleton carries fire 'nough long o' him
'thout needing kindlin'-wood and matches. Bless yo' heart,
missy, you kin spile him and count on me to keep de fire up.
Gwine bring in a back-log now." And, beaming with faithful
pride in the beauty of the " chile " he had " toted 'fore she
cou'd wark," Uncle Regulus hobbled off.
" Determined to cheat old winter of dreariness, Lady-bird ? "
" Clarence ! I am so glad you are home for Christmas ; it
seems an age since you left."
Two trembling white hands were clasped in two strong ones,
and the love-light flashed from brown eyes to gray. Then
Clarence looked upon his photograph opposite where they
stood, and the pleasure brightening his smile as he noted the
tribute of decoration told how perfect he felt his welcome.
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** Now for a cozy chat. Aunt is out making last-moment
purchases, and the children are at grandma's, so that Santa
Claus may have more freedom here. I've dressed dolls and
worked book-marks till my fingers ache. " (The strong fingers
\
'• Indeed, I've been really jealous."
soothingly stroked the tiny weary ones.) ** You will not mind
the bits of holly and the general disorder of the room ? "
"Chaos would be delightful if I found you in its midst.
Ah ! little Frances, if you knew how dreary I have felt in
crowded drawing-rooms, with all their magnificence, because you
were not there ! "
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"Indeed, IVe been really jealous when reading your letters
that told of receptions, dinners, and other gaieties, for I
feared you would not leave them till the Christmas season
closed. We can offer you but the merest shadow of festivity
here."
*' One carol warbled by my nightingale is more to me than
all New York's orchestras. But, dear, you, with your great love
for harmony, would revel in such music as one hears there ;
and when you yield yourself entirely to my will we shall enjoy
it together. For this I thank Uncle Reuben's choice of me as
his heir. His money will buy such pleasures for my Frances ! "
Then the two drifted back again to talk of their own living
romance. The breaking oak-sticks on the hearth and conse-
quent shower of sparks recalled them to practical life, and
Clarence, remembering relatives and friends yet unadvised of
his return, went forth into the gathering darkness, promising to
call after tea to bring gifts for the little ones. Frances stood
watching his retreating figure till it was lost in shadow, then
throwing open the shutters, she looked for the hundredth time
on the beauty without, so witching because of its novelty in
this semi-southern land. Often, in the eastern portion of the
Old North State, the young folk are quite perturbed on account
of the dangers besetting Santa Claus' frail sleigh in the snow-
less fields. But this year stubble and rocks and ruts were
buried deep, while gate-posts, well-sweeps, and bird-houses were
like magic sculptures. The evergreens wore crystal spangles
and powdered crests. Oaks, myrtles, and mimosas were steel-
clad, and the clash of armor broke the twilight stillness as the
spirits of air sported among their branches. Merry children
strayed past, pelting each other with snow-balls and hurrahing
for the old woman in the clouds who scattered her goose
feathers so liberally. Busy men hurried on, anxious to reach
home ere night, and dodging the white missiles, lest some
precious gift hidden in great-coat pocket should suffer.
Frances saw in a humble country couple, plodding through the
cold, reminders of Joseph and Mary the blessed, and the
loveliness seemed gone from the snowy, frosted landscape
because of the suffering such weather brought the poor. Many
warm garments and simple toys, with palatable food, she had
that day borne to homes which but for her had known no
Christmas joys, yet she felt in that moment as if the comfort
of her home, the happiness of the great love that filled her
life, rendered her unworthy to rank among the followers of the
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478 Three Christmas Eves. [Jan.^
Babe born in a stable, laid in a manger; and from' her heart
rose the prayer, •* Lord, give me to prove I love thee above
all. Show me what thou wouldst have me do."
A jingle of bells broke on her reverie. From the sleigh
grandpa had improvised, by putting a light-wagon body on
runners, two little maidens and a sturdy boy sprang, waving
adieus to the dusky charioteer, and turned, racing up the broad
walk, their winsome faces radiant with the pleasures of that
day and expectancy of to-morrow. Opening the door before
they reached it, Frances was scarce able to withstand the
impetus of their entrance as the trio struggled for first kiss.
She led her cousins into the library, asking their help in
completing decorations there and gathering up the debris.
They begged a story, and she told them of the dear St. Fran-
cis, his great love for the Babe of Bethlehem and the little
ones in whom he saw that Babe Divine ; how, forsaking all, he
lived the life of the Crucified, and how the Master of hearts
made men and beasts subject to his faithful servant, so that
even the wolves obeyed him and birds gathered to hear him
preach. She promised that next Christmas she would make
for them a crib such as St. Francis was wont to build — a
Christmas carol whicn the tiny child, the untaught youth, and
illiterate old age could read perhaps better than learned
clerks.
"Isn't it funny none of those folks live nowadays?" solilo-
quized Roy.
"What folks, Roy?" asked little Nell.
" Why, the kind that give up everything and live like St.
Francis, to prove they choose what Christ chose."
" St. Francis has many imitators in the world. The Fran-
ciscan monks are his sons, the Poor Clares his daughters.
These practise mortifications which make the flesh creep as
we think of them. But, unfortunately for us, none of his
children have their home in our State," said Frances.
" Suppose you, Roy, set example for the rest of us — be-
come a Franciscan and give your fortune, if you get one, to
found a monastery here," suggested his twin sister, saucy
Janet.
"You'd never see the good of it all if I did. Miss Vanity-
love-my-ease. But I say, Fran, if you knew that, though God
didn't demand it of you, he really would rather have you do
something of that kind, think you could leave all of us ? "
"I hope, with God's grace, I should be strong enough.
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1898.] Three Christmas Eves. 479
Without his special help I could not, for I cannot even in thought
leave my happy home among you darlings.*'
" Except for a happier one with Clarence. Wish the jolly
old fellow would come back," said Roy.
" He was here this afternoon, and will return after tea."
" Hurrah ! There is the bell now. Let's hurry and get
through. Remember, Fran, when you feel inspired to don the
robes of religion, choose me for your father director." Roy
bowed low as he opened the dining-room door and stepped
aside " to let the ladies pass."
Two hours later the . children said *' Good-night," for once
in the year without a murmur.
Roy whispered to Janet, as they passed up stairs, he felt
something hard and suggestive of well-bound books as he
struck against Clarence's overcoat pocket in the rush of wel-
come.
Janet thought it might be " one of those lovely manicure
cases he said he'd see if he could find in New York."
Twelve silvery strokes pealed from Frances' little clock as
she rose from her knees, thanking God for one happy Christ-
mas Eve.
11.
"And this is your decisive answer, Frances?"
" It must be, Clarence."
"Thus, having played with me, fondled me, amused your-
self with my love as with your poodle, you cast me off more
heartlessly than yoii would him' ? "
The slight form trembled, but no word of reply rose to
Frances' lips. Ashamed of his unmanliness, and urged to
repair his fault by the same passionate love that had caused it,
he drew near and, lifting her hand, thought to hold it as of
old ; but the girl quickly withdrew it. His- ring no longer
sparkled there, his right was denied. The repentant tender-
ness could not be turned back even by this act ; nay, her
shrinking but made it stronger.
" Frances, forgive me ! Remember last Christmas Eve !
Everything in this room recalls its happiness. The thought that
such bliss was only a dream maddens me. Tell me it was no
dream: — that you, my life, are mine, that you have not cast me
away ! "
"Oh! Clarence, it is you who cast aside that happiness;
you who voluntarily relinquish every blessed gift which made
that Christmas Eve so bright."
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48o Three Christmas Eves. [Jan.,
" He turned, and his only response was the click of the closing door."
" I merely threw aside the shackles of superstition — you I
never thought to lose. The love I gave you then is stronger
now. Though I long to have you share the freedom that is
mine, I swear never to obtrude it on you ; while rejoicing in
my own liberty, I vow never to place obstacles in the way of
your practising any mummery you hold dear or holy. Frances,
can you not believe me ? "
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1898.] Three Christmas Eves. 481
, " Even in your protestations of love you scoff at what is
most sacred to me ; your very oath-bound promise of tolerance
in regard to my religious practices is blasphemy. It is better,
Clarence, we should part now. God knows I love none but
him better than you ; but I must choose between him and you.
You cast him off, you strive to draw others to a denial of his
very existence ; you could, in time, but scorn one whose only
hope is in him. I have prayed this chalice might pass — he wills
I drain it to the dregs. Do not add to its bitterness. When
you come to me with Credo on your lips. Credo welling from
your heart, then will I listen to you — then my measure of joy
will be full. Till then, farewell!"
He turned, and his only response was the click of the clos-
ing door.
As on that other Christmas Eve, she stood behind closed
blinds and watched him till the dusk hid him from her burn-
ing eyes. Each foot- fall, as it echoed from the frozen ground
over which no beautiful snow spread dazzling carpet, seemed
to her the thud of clods upon a coffin, the burial of life's joy^
Tortured by the simile she could not banish, she lay on the
sofa hiding her face in the pillow; not thinking, not weeping,
not praying in the accepted meaning of the word ; only suffer-
ing, with a mighty longing to unite her pain with His who
bowed in bitter agony beneath Gethsemane's olives.
She did not move when the door ' opened, nor. when her
aunt, tenderly embracing her, whispered, " My poor little one ! "
In that moment a current of sympathy swept from heart to
heart which during three years of close and amiable relations
had never really known each other. Family circumstances which
had severed her long-dead mother from her relatives through
Frances' childhood, had brought it about that she had been
left for some time an orphan in the charge of strangers, so that
when she came at last to her aunt's house it was scarcely home
to her. She was a diffident child, naturally reserved ; but her
reticence was intensified by the secret fact that her young mind
associated with her new-found relative all the sorrow of her
childhood. Her aunt pitied her and showered on her every
comfort of a well-appointed home. Kind words alone were ad-
dressed to the orphan, but none gave the sympathy, the spon-
taneous love, which only could have melted the icy reserve of
her lonely young heart. No one dreamed she suffered, yet
her life was as lonely as if she lived in a desert. She was
cheerful, for she appreciated the generosity of her relatives
VOL. Lxvi.— 31
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482 Three Christmas Eves. [Jan.,
and the advances of their friends ; yet she moved among them
without becoming one of them. Later, the frank, warm affec-
tion of her little cousins won her deep love; but not till to-
night had her heart met her aunt*s. Over sorrow's sea they
drifted, at last, together.
Clarence's love had burst on her life as a golden glory
melting every barrier by its sympathetic warmth. Now that it
was torn from her, God sent this milder tenderness to support
her through the gloom. When the night had wept itself away
and the Christmas bells were again silent, Mrs. Weir told
Frances how she had, years before, passed through the sorrow
of renouncing the first deep love of her life in obedience to
filial duty. Frances knew no second love would ever heal her
heart, but she was stronger because there was by her one who
had suffered too ; and all for Him, since all duty is of God.
III.
A crowd of young people awaited at the station the com-
ing of the south-bound train. They were a merry party, yet
through their mirth ran a minor strain that told of parting, sad
even to youth.
" O Janet ! you know you do not mean never to come back.
I would be heart-broken to think it."
" Of course she will come back, and soon too," spoke Fred
Merton. "I wager a box of the best French sweetmeats I lead
the New Year german with her.'*
** Takes more than one to decide that, old man. You may
be cut out and have to take a side stand."
** Not afraid, Adonis, if your shadowy down is fascinating
some of our beauties."
" Well, I put a silk cravat made by my own fingers beside
the sweetmeats, that Janet helps me receive at my Christmas
party. Who'll bet to the contrary ? "
" I, for the pleasure it will give me to glove those fingers.
Two pair twelve-button kids against the tie. " Of course you'll
win. Miss Floy; but you'll make me the tie, won't you?"
"Doesn't anybody dare take up my sweets?"
" I will. Cousin Fred. I have to give you a birthday sou-
venir on New Year anyway, so, a smoking-set against the con-
fections," replied Mae, her voice trembling despite her assumed
mirth. The shrill, warning whistle of the locomotive, as it
swung round the sudden curve some five hundred yards north
of the station startled all, and a general hand-shaking ensued.
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1898.] Three Christmas Eves. 483
One more embrace from Mae the disconsolate, and Janet
sprang after Frances on the little platform of the car. Swift
adieus through the window, and she was whirled away southward.
Bright, for our frolicksome Janet, had been the ten years
since we last saw her. Fond of amusement, talented, fascinat-
ing, society had welcomed her entrance into its fairy realm,
crowning her queen of all revels^ At first she exulted in her
triumphs, but flattery soon palled on her ear. Her heart was
too pure to find joy in such vanities. Like the doye that found
not whereupon to rest its foot, she returned to the ark that
had sheltered her girlhood — the convent wherein " Aunt Olive "
had prepared for her First Communion. In her sorrow, Fran-
ces had found the gentle, confiding love of Janet a great com-
fort, while the child's merry moods diverted her mind from sad
thoughts. Unable to speak with one so young of her later
trouble, Frances dwelt with her on earlier losses, and one even-
ing in the late summer told the story of her mother's convent
girlhood and after life.
Mr. and Mrs. Weir were just then debating whither to send
the child to pursue her education. Janet begged to go to the
Ursulines, who had instructed "Aunt Olive." As Mr. Weir
had relatives in New Orleans, no objections arose. When, two
years after leaving school, Janet asked her parents' sanction to
the consecration of her life to God in that same convent, her
father insisted she should defer such action one year, till she
should be of legal age. She bore the probation in such cheer-
ful submission that he hoped ere it was over she would have
relinquished her idea of becoming a religieuse^ and gratify his
worldly pride by accepting the life he planned for her, his
heart's darling. But when, on her twenty-first birthday, she
renewed her petition, he granted the permission without any
visible reluctance, for his love of her was too holy and too
unselfish to oppose God's designs or stay her happiness.
So he grieved silently and alone in the little study, full of
souvenirs of her loving thought for his comfort and pleasure,
while she was borne hourly further from him. Nor was her heart
free from tender pain as she thought of the parents thus left.
*Twas no earthly love had lured her from them. Only He who
demanded the sacrifice could have given her strength to con-
summate it.
Silently Janet and Frances sat side by side, each lost in
thoughts blended with prayer, as through the deepening twi-
light the train sped on.
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484 Three Christmas Eves. [Jan.,
It was Sunday, bright and warm. Frances and Janet were
walking to the convent, which was but a few blocks from the
house of Janet's aunt, with whom they had spent the three day«
since their arrival. They spoke but of the priceless blessing
Janet felt to be hers, the inestimable grace of vocation to the
religious life. As they passed a church, a woman of beautiful
features but wild expression -stood suddenly in front of them,
and, looking earnestly into Janet's face, asked : " Are you the
Lady Clare? They told me she was very beautiful and w^ixy
rich. Tell me, are you called Lady Clare?"
Janet answered kindly "No," and gave her name. The
woman, who was, they saw, demented, turned away repeating,
" If I come dressed as village maid," etc.
At the convent they asked if any knew of such a character
as had interrupted their walk, and were told the poor woman
had been in infancy adopted by a family prominent in the
social circles of the city. When in her twentieth year she was
on the eve of marriage with a young man who had been her
lover from childhood. But just a week before the wedding
day her father died suddenly and intestate. He had never
legally made the child bis heiress, and of his large fortune she
received but a pittance, doled out to her in the name of char-
ity by distant relatives of the deceased, who were his only
heirs. Mr. Fonteau had loved Madelon as a daughter, and his
neglect to secure to her the fortune he intended should be no
other's was but the consequence of an over-confident and pro-
crastinating temperament. The relatives of the groom-elect
declared he should never marry a penniless woman. He knew
he could not afford to do so unless he sacrificed his ease to
earn for her the support he had in reality expected from her.
To such sacrifice his love was not equal. Madelon had at first
bore all with a calmness born of numbing grief in the bitter
loss of her idolized father. But as the weary months passed
into years, and her health failed under labors and privations so
new to her, her mind grew weaker and weaker, till there seemed
left of it but a memory of the sad past. Tennyson's " Lady
Clare" had been a favorite poem of hers, and often in the
sunny days when Victor told her of undying love she had read
it again and again, almost wishing fate would test the devotion
she felt was true as Ronald's*
The winter advanced, but Frances lingered in the south.
Janet's clothing was fixed for Holy Innocents', and till then
Frances declared she could not leave.
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1898.] . Three Christmas Eves. 485
Twas Christmas Eve again* and throngs of devout men,
women, and children crowded around the confessionals, eager to
hear the blessed words " Go in peace ! "
Frances came from the confessional with the fulness of
peace reflected on her calm brow and breathing through her
half-parted lips. A man, rising to enter as she passed out,
glanced at her, and fell again to his knees as if arrested by
some sudden apparition. Later, emerging from the sacred tribu-
nal, he looked around as in search of some one. Espying Fran-
ces a distance up the aisle, he knelt near till she rose to go ;
then followed a little behind. In the vestibule they were alone.
He softly whispered ^^ Credo!''
She started, then, extending her hand, calmly answered
"Clarence."
" Frances, were you aware I was in 'the city ? Have you
heard from home in the last ten days?"
" I had heard nothing, Clarence, and when you spoke I was
at first startled, but not surprised. I have always hoped^ even
in the darkest hour, that you would return to God, and of late
years I have known it. I asked not to see it, but, oh! I am
very happy God granted me the consolation."
" I was home a fortnight ago, but asked the friends there
not to tell you, as I wished myself to bring you proof of my
repentance of the past. Illness detained me a week in Atlanta.
I reached New Orleans to-day, and sought you at your uncle's.
He told me you were at the convent, and would probably re-
main till late. The Jesuits have been my confessors since my
conversion, and wishing to communicate to-morrow, I entered
their church to prepare, never thinking you waited my coming."
" How was it, Clarence, that God called you back, not to
belief in him alone, but in all he has revealed to his Holy
Catholic Church ? "
** By the persistent whispering of the still, small voice ; by
the constant showers of grace your prayers, my little woman,
obtained for me. There are more things wrought by patient,
hopeful, trusting prayer than this world dreams of, my Fran-
ces.
" I could not always pray ; words forsook me when I tried
to utter my longing. Ceremonies often wearied, but I hoped.
I did trust Him, and I felt He heard the voice of my longing."
** My conversion was a miracle wrought, as your prayer was
uttered, or rather breathed, in silence. No eloquence of sacred
oratory, no grandeur of ritual, no phenomenon of terrific storm,
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486 Three Christmas Eves. [Jan.
as in case of St. Norbert, nor of sudden death to friend beside
me, drew me from my sinful pride and folly. Some one, God
himself, spoke to my soul, and I said within my heart, truly
'tis the fool hath said ' There is no God * ! The evil one would
not let me return at once to my Father's house. Doubts arose,
pride cavilled, human respect fought hard, the intellect refused
long to obey. I sought the aid of prayer, and the direction of
ministers and doctors. Twas a Jesuit gave me most satisfac-
tion in clearing away the difficulties pride of intellect raised
up — a man full of the spirit of Christ, of sympathy with hu-
man frailty and love for sinners ; one who separated the
offender from the offence, and loved the one while he hated
the other.'*
" They two will wed, the morrow morn. God's blessing on
the dayf"
A slight figure disappeared in the darkness of an alley they
were passing. Clarence looked in wonder after it, half credu-
lous of supernatural apparitions. Frances told him the melan-
choly story of Madelon. As he listened a prayer of thanks-
giving went up from his heart that one had passed through fire
but to come forth more beautiful.
" Sweetheart, can it not be as the poor creature prophe-
sied ? "
" Not so soon, Clarence ; let us give to God the season so
entirely his, and with his blessing we may seek our happiness
two weeks later."
" I have kept you waiting ten long years, and now rebel
that you delay our union two weeks ! But, my queen, I yield
obedience for the time named. Extend it at the known risk of
revolt, and I say not what the consequence will be ! "
" Remembering who is to obey for the time to come, I think,
sir, you could more gracefully accept the subordinate position
for so short a period. Ah ! they are wondering I am so late
returning. See, the hall door stands open to bid you welcome
home.**
As together they entered the church near the weird mid-
night hour, each silently thanked God for the peace and joy
brought to them on this sweet Christmas Eve.
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SAVONAROLA— MONK, PATRIOT, MARTYR.
^ BY F. M. EDSELAS.
^'NE of our most brilliant writers, referring to
Washington, says: "It is an act, not alone of
piety but of polity to resurrect every few years,
from the graves in which time has laid them,
« the memories of the great. . . . It is a law
of anthropology that a great man is never alien to any people,
nor absolute to any age. The qualities which made him con-
spicuous above the men of his time are such as appeal to all
humanity. ... In the midst of turmoil and distraction a
few quiet and Titanic men have stood unafraid. No thunder
of threatened catastrophe could daunt them, no tidal wave of
impulse sweep them from their feet ; no whirlwind of the soul
carry them from the rock of honor on which they stood.**
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488 Savonarola — Monk, Patriot, Martyr. [Jan^
Thus might with equal truth be eulogized Fra Girolamo
Savonarola, Prior of San Marco's Dominican Convent in Flor-
ence. The age that gave this man birth was indeed a marveU
lous one, an age of greatness telling on character, deeds, and
destiny ; one in which nations are forged out to govern, defend,
and perpetuate their commonwealths. Men of letters and of
art were there, of science and invention ; architects who im-
mortalized themselves in massive structures of stone and marble;
artists who wrought with deft fingers marvels of delicacy and
beauty, winning and holding the world's admiration for all time.
Scientists, too, were seen utilizing nature's secrets for the bene-
fit of their brother-man, and chaining her tremendous forces
laying blindly around — the master becoming the servant.
Yet with all this material prosperity the dawn of the Renais-
sance was none the less an era setting at defiance law and order,
while morality and religion served as a mask for the basest
crimes and the most daring plots against church and state.
Such epochs demand men energized with the one supreme aim
of rendering religion — the Christian religion — a reality and
necessity above all other aims and endeavors ; men surcharged
with the elemental virtues of right and justice, representative
types of stalwart honesty and manly courtesy, fearless in de-
nouncing evil as in upholding good ; and possessing with these
essentials a substratum of common sense and intense devotion
to the cause in hand.
Stormy indeed have been the eras marking Italian history.
But of that history Italia may well be proud through those
that made its fame, the record bearing such names as Arnold
of Brescia, Dante, and Savonarola — a triumvirate unparalleled by
any other nation. Yielding a wide margin for difference of
character and principles, Arnold may well be styled the anti-
type of the great Florentine monk, his x:ourse and fate being
similar. The mould in which he was cast doubtless owed much
to Abelard, the instructor of Pope Celestine II., Peter of Lom-
bardy, Bdranger, and other notables, developing an energy of
genius so imperatively needed for periods rife with perils and
difficulties, appalling souls less dauntless than his own. The
Guelphs and Ghibellines, ever in conflict, brought desolation
and ruin upon the country at frequent intervals during this
thirteenth century. Ruler and ruled, swayed by their baser
instincts, roused the fiery zeal of St. Bernard of Clairvaux, who
poured forth his burning eloquence and scathing rebuke as he
said: "The whole nation, nursed in mischief, has never learned
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.1898.] Savonarola — Monk, Patriot, Martyr. 489
the lesson of doing good« Adulation and calumny, perfidy and
treason, are the familiar acts of their policy."
Similar must have been the state of affairs in the following
century, when the Bianchi and the Neri again stirred up the peo-
pie to bitter conflict. Dante, espousing the cause of the former
— the poor and oppressed — fearlessly sounded the note of warn-
ing in those inspired odes which place him among the immortals
in poetic song, with impassioned beauty and thrilling melody
striking the key-note of liberty and eternal justice as ever work-
ing for the good of the common people.
With the lapse of more than a century we meet the last of
this famous trio, Savonarola, his only earthly heritage being a
noble ancestry, though marvellously dowered by heaven.
While yet a mere lad, Savonarola realized the sad condition
of his country, and the still sadder fate awaiting it if thorough
reforms were not at once brought about. He knew too well
that this planet of ours had not been framed for the lasting
convenience of hypocrites, libertines, and tyrants; hence divine
justice must soon avenge the wrongs of his chosen people.
With strong hope, born of implicit faith, he felt convinced that
from this fearful chaos might be wrought out for his beloved
Italy a destiny more glorious than that of imperial Rome, even
in her palmiest days. To one of his strong and impetuous na-
ture, seeing an evil was but the prelude to its removal. Hence,
with the dawn of manhood, fired with zeal for this his life-
work, the world at once lost all charms for him, and at the
age of twenty-three we find him leaving home unknown to his
family, and with his little pack wending his way to the. Domi-
nican Convent at Bologna, where he applied for admission as a
lay-brother.
Received in that capacity, he remained seven years, passing
from the humble state of servant to that of novice-master.
Then he appeared as a preacher at Ferrara, his native place.
But as honor seldom attends one in his own country, success
did not await him ; his countrymen knew more than he could
tell them. Shaking the natal dust from his feet, he wended
his irourse to Brescia, Pavia, and Genoa, where friends were
not wanting; thence to Florence — magnificent Florence, destined
to witness his brilliant career and his heroic martyrdom ! Cor-
dially welcomed by the Dominican friars at the Convent of
San Marco, he soon proved himself worthy, by right of his
rare gifts and sanctity, to take a high rank in that famous
order.
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490 Savonarola — Monk, Patriot, Martyr. TJ^^m
With keen intuition, Fra Girolamo realized that the life of
Italy was in jeopardy, not so much from its declared foes as
from the decline of moral principles. No less surely did he also
realize that the justice of God was like his kingdom ; ^'it might
not be without him as a fact, but all the more would it be
within him as an intense longing." With luminous insight, he
saw visions beyond our ken, and heard orders of divine au-
thority we might not hear. If his body was a vial of intense
existence, his soul was no less a dynamo of tremendous power
kept ever fully charged.
Lorenzo de' Medici, the Magnificent, then at the zenith of
his power, saw his enemies crushed beneath his feet, the mob
and rabble being won over by fites and pleasures in every
form, while religion was but a name, a mere cloak and tool for
power and base hypocrisy. Villari draws the curtain when he
says : *^ There was no faith in civil affairs, in religion, in morals,
or in philosophy. Even scepticism did not exist with any de-
gree of earnestness. A cold indifference to principles reigned
throughout the land." Character-building was now to be wrought
upon a deeper, broader basis. Little does the world know the
worth of God's messengers at the time of their advent. Won-
der and admiration endorse the consummatum est of some glo-
rious event, yet the beneficiaries seldom realize the humble
source that gave it birth. Still unknowns may have played
a more important part in the world's betterment than the so-
called immortals whose names are heralded to the ends of the
earth. Thus was it with the despised, persecuted monk — Savo-
narola.
Lorenzo, knowing too well the powerful opponent he had
in the eloquent Dominican, tried by persuasion, gifts, and even
threats, to checkmate his movements at every point; but with-
out avail. Dimly did the haughty ruler comprehend the gran-
deur of soul enshrined in the humble, white-frocked monk.
About this time elected prior of San Marco, more earnestly
than ever did he labor for the one supreme purpose of his life
— purity of religion and government for Florence. Already had
he noticed the dark cloud rising in the west portending th^ in-
vasion of Charles VIII. of France, that new Cyrus, whose army
sweeping over the country might purify it from iniquity and
corruption. In the trail of the previous year, 1492, we can
plainly trace the approaching crisis. At its dawn, Lorenzo de'
Medici, powerful though he had been, could not resist the ap-
proach of that stern messenger to whom the mightiest must
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1898,] Savonarola— Monk, PATRioTy Martyr, 491
yield. Knowing that his illness was mortal, he retired to his
Villa Corregi. Then thoughts of his God, and that religion
so long neglected, faced him like a terrible spectre. What
should he do, and whither turn in this hour of swift peril ?
Not one could be found true to him who most needed
help. "None of them," he said, '*ever ventured to utter to
me a resolute ' No.' " Then, recalling Savonarola, the dying
prince added : ** Let him be summoned without delay." The
man of God responded and entered the chamber of death.
" I have sent for you, father," said Lorenzo, ** for my need
is very great. My soul is stifled with the memory of my shame-
ful, wasted life. Three terrible sins must be confessed : the
sacking of Volterra, the money taken from the Monte di
Pietk, and the blood shed at the conspiracy of the Pazzi."
" It is well, my son," replied the Frate ; " but three things
are also requisite before I can give you absolution. First, that
you be truly penitent and have a lively faith in God's mercy ;
second, that you restore all your unjust gains ; third, that you
give liberty of church and state to Florence." Lorenzo heard,
but heeded not. Turning from the holy friar, he died as he
had lived, unrepentant and unabsolved.
With wonderful tact and diplomacy, born of a shrewd and
dominating character, the prince had held in check the smoulder-
ing jealousy so long rife between Naples and Florence, Rome
and Milan. Each in turn feared the other three, and the
quartette, with the lesser states of Italy, were held in abey-
ance by Venice, through dread of what she might even then
be plotting against them. And well might they fear, for
was it not this very Venice, •'the cautious, the stable, the
strong," that wanted to stretch out its arms, not only along
both sides of the Adriatic but across to the ports of the west-
ern coast ?
However, by the death of Lorenzo, his son and successor,
Piero de' Medici, checkmated this wary policy through his own
rash vanity, rousing the suspicions of Ludovico Sforza, who
held the ducal crown of Naples in his grasp. However, this
same Ludovico stood in wholesome fear of the old king, Ferdi-
nand, and his son, the crown prince Alphonso of Naples, there-
fore determined to nullify any plots formed against him by
courting the favor of the French king, whom he invited over
with his army. As heir of the house of Anjou, he could thus
attach Naples to his own domain — a stroke of diplomacy not
to be overlooked. Ambassadors and nobles, with cardinals
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492 Savonarola — Monk, Patriot, Martyr. [Jan.,
of every shade and degree, lent their influence to this
scheme, resulting in the incursion of Charles and his army in-
to Italy.
It will be well to remember that the true condition of Italy
was but dimly understood by the great majority. Those in
power had so long deceived their subjects, through cunning
statecraft, with fair promises of better times — golden days and
the speedy coming of the millennium — that they had fallen into
a sort of expectant content, with very indefinite ideas of what
" the good time " meant, or how it would be brought about.
But now the veil was dropping from their eyes, the delusion
vanishing. They had found mere promises a very unsubstan-
tial diet in the long run, hence their determination to have
something more tangible. With the entrance of the French
army hope revived. But when Charles had been there three
months, and nothing favorable to their interest resulting, the
Florentines were more perplexed than ever, divided between
hope and fear, desire and dread of the still doubtful future.
Piero, fearing the Frate's influence, sent him out of the
city. For a time he remained at Genoa, Pisa, or in the vicinity,
everywhere sounding his familiar note of warning, and rousing
the people to nobler ambitions and a higher life as their only
means of escape from imminent peril. True, religion had fallen
so out of perspective as to become strangely distorted, and,
with the undermining of its manhood and womanhood, the na-
tion's life was sorely menaced. None knew or felt this more
keenly than Savonarola. But just as fully did he realize that
if only the heart of the masses could be touched with remorse,
hope for their betterment would be assured. Surely the fault
was not in their religion, but in the want of it ! Noting the
utter contradiction between their profession and their conduct,
he endeavored the more earnestly to impress them with the
homely but solid truth that '' One thing is better than making
a living, and that is making a LIFE." Inspired with such motives,
through the semi-darkness arose clear and strong the voice of
the great Dominican, kindling in their hearts a fire from God's
altar which they could carry through life. In the dim twilight
he saw breaking the light which his ardent faith assured him
foretold the dawn. As the key-note to his stirring appeals he
ever sounded the grand, eternal principle, that patriotism and
civic virtue must go hand-in-hand with the highest and purest
religious motives. Though the methods of Savonarola may lie
open to criticism, yet, actuated only by desire for the glory of
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1898.] Savonarola— Monk, Patriot^ Martyr. 493
God and the welfare of humanity, all must admit that "he
never insulted God by a single doubt, or honored man by the
shadow of fear." The champion of orderly liberty, he was
none the less fearless in putting down misrule and rebellion.
He " made little things great by doing them well, when there
were no great things to do."
But a still higher motive, as the sutnmum bonuniy was the
impelling force of Savonarola's work. Knowing that the church
had been commissioned by Heaven for the task of conquering
the world to Jesus Christ, he felt urged to hasten on, as best
he could, that glorious purpose by saving the people from
themselves. Born and reared in an atmosphere the most in-
spiring, and fitted with a character for unusual things and dire
emergencies, little wonder that he sounded again and again the
trunripet-note of " liberty to the captive, and the acceptable
year of the Lord." To be sure this familiar straw had been
threshed again and again in the sight and hearing of the peo-
ple, but now it was presented on another basis and with more
tangible prospect of success. Had he not proved himself an
all-suflficient representative of the people? With such pres-
tige, his simple word of advice went far, and the whole-
someness of his leadership became all the more direct and
telling. With rare insight into the character of the multitude
crowding the grand Duomo of Florence, and yet without the
slightest trace of human respect, he presented the plain truth
in all its stern reality. Even now we can almost hear the echo
of his ringing words appealing to his hearers, as he says:
" If my life has thus far meant anything in the grandest and
holiest of causes, henceforth it shall mean doubly more. The
aid of you, the stronger, must come to us, the weaker. Thus
we shall do that which is of vital necessity and mutual benefit,
we shall throw off the shackles of religious, national, and sec-
tional prejudice, lifting ourselves out of the ignorance and
selfishness that have thus far hampered our way into a clearer,
purer region. Then only can we serve and aid one another,
caring for nothing whatever save the highest good of humanity,
past and future."
The succeeding events were indeed epoch-making achieve-
ments of paramount importance. To animate hope and sustain
courage in the Florentine mind, Savonarola recalled the great
victory of 732, gained by Charles Martel on the plains of Tours
over the Moors, when, after a seven days' battle, the latter left
more than 300,000 of their dead on the field. By this glorious
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494 Savonarola — Monk, PATRJOTy Martyr. [Jan.,
conquest the gates of Europe were closed upon the barbarous
hordes of Mahomet, and the doors of Christian civilization for
ever opened to the world.
From this the Frate drew a happy omen in the coming of
the French king, which, though it might be by fire and sword,
would in the end bring good out of seeming evil, Piero, still
the weak and wicked intriguer that he was, found it expedient
to banish Savonarola, well knowing that he was too much of a
man to become the tool of any potentate. The prince then
tried to form an alliance with the Pope, Alexander VI., and
King Ferdinand of Naples. Neither being won over to his
plots, the fulness of his base perfidy appeared by his breaking
pledges with these rulers, and courting friendship with the in-
vader himself, surrendering the fortress of Sarzana, the town
of Pietro Santa, and the cities of Pisa and Leghorn.
This ignominious act of Piero, while winning for him the
deserved hatred and contempt of the people, but served the
more to rouse the latent spirit of patriotism in the Florentines.
Now it was the republic, and nothing less than the republic,
that would satisfy them. Secret plots indicated the spirit of
rebellion filling the air, and when the Florentines saw the
French army at the very gates of their city an embassy was
appointed to confer with the king. All negotiations failing, as
a last resort Savonarola was called in as intercess( r. Again
failure. Then the army marched into the city, pillaging and
laying waste their beautiful places, in which the people joined,
urged on by a maddening resentment, like the Communists of
our own century, though why or wherefore many of them
could hardly have told.
Both parties having done their worst, with little gain on
either side, the Florentines looked around for one who could
bring order out of this sad desolation. Involuntarily all eyes
turned to the Frate as their only resource, begging him to
frame a new government, giving civil and religious liberty in
its fullest sense. He well knew how vague and illusive were
their ideas — license being to them a synonyme for freedom. To
undeceive them, he marked out in unmistakable terms the only
course leading to the desired end. Law and order must first
of all be maintained, and this chiefly through religion of heart
and life taking the place of vice and corruption. That tower-
stamp of genius ever marking the Frate*s burning indignation
against church and state now burst forth, swaying the multi-
tude as never before. None were spared in these terrible in-
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1898.J Savonarola— Monk, Patriot, Martyr. 495
vectives — prelates, officials, and people alike shared in the
scathing rebuke.
" In the primitive churches," exclaimed he, " they had
wooden chalices and golden prelates ; now we have golden
chalices and wooden prelates. Behold, the thunder of the Lord
is gathering, and it shall fall and break the cup ; and your
iniquity, which seems to you as pleasant wine, shall be poured
out upon you, and shall be as molten lead ! Trust not in your
gold and silver, trust not in your high fortresses; for, though
the walls were of iron, arid the fortresses of adamant, the Most
High shall put terror into your hearts and weakness into your
councils. He will thoroughly purge his church. The sword
is hanging from the sky ; it is quivering, it is about to fall,
the sword of God upon the earth, swift and sudden ! "
The mighty influence thus exerted was not in vain. Hearts
were touched, moved to contrition, for a time at least, being
willing to share the common pressure of destiny with their
fellow-men, whether for weal or woe. The departing footsteps
of disorder and misrule were followed by order and harmony.
Usury was abolished, thus sapping avarice at its very source —
thirty-two and a half per cent, being frequently charged by the
Jewish brokers. As a counterpoise to such injustice, the Monte
di Pietk was established. Here deposits even of the smallest
sums could be made with perfect security, as also loans at a
mere nominal rate. These, and like beneficial enactments, served
the more to gain and hold that almost passionate influence of
the great Dominican, extending to private and more personal
matters ; this being specially manifested when he faced the vast
multitude daily surging to the grand cathedral, waiting like
breathing statues for his least utterance. Often, wrought up
to the intensest emotion by his earnest faith, feeling could no
longer find expression through the channel of speech ; then
silence took its place, save for a low, deep sob from his over-
wrought heart, which, vibrating through the conscience-smitten
audience, thrilled each soul with a responsive throb.
In that upturned sea of faces could clearly be seen every
type and condition of humanity ; and herein lay the secret
of that marvellous power of Savonarola. Grasping fully the
myriad phases in character of the vast multitude before him,
he as readily adapted his exhortations to the needs and
longings of each waiting soul. Whether pouring forth torrents
of eloquence, or in those pauses when silence becomes more
masterful than speech, in both appeared the same magnetic
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496 Savonarola — Monk, Patriot, Martyr. [Jan.,
force of superior genius. But never was this effect more per-
suasive than when he brought home to them the ultimate
valuation of this life, as the other opened before them, and
they would " be put to the question." The little concern which
would then be felt for aught else he urged them to feel now.
The throng of eager, absorbed listeners gathered in the
grand, historic Duomo was typical. There were those of high
birth and low, the cultured and the ignorant, ranging from the
magfistrate and the dame nurtured in luxury and refinement, to
the coarsely-clad artisan and peasant*. With these were inter-
spersed the Piagnoni, or Weepers, as the recent converts of the
Frate were facetiously called, all held captive by his irresisti-
ble power, as if that destiny which many regard as "the scep-
tred deity of the existence '' had seized them in mortal grasp.
Even those ready to revolt and to defy this man of God with
words of contempt and scorn, found their lips palsied and their
tongue mute while his message of command and entreaty fell
upon their ears, and his glance, so calm yet piercing, met their
own abashed and self-convicted.
In Girolamo Savonarola grandeur of mind and heart were
united to a no less striking personality, reflector of the ener-
getic soul which it enshrined. Tall and sinewy, his well-de-
veloped frame-work of body was fitly crowned by a massive
and shdpely head, covered with thick, dark hair wherein the
tonsure was specially marked. The large, curved nose, arch-
ing brow, and sensitive mouth told of high resolve and passions
held well in check. But the dark-blue, grayish eyes, radiant and
changing with the ever-varying emotions of his strong and
mobile nature, were the marked feature in that expressive face,
luminous from the soul's inner light, wherein was revealed that
subtle, mysterious power which none could resist and few could
comprehend. His whole countenance, without being beautiful
in the ordinary sense, yet possessed that wondrous charm
coming only from the most exquisite refinement of mind and
rigid discipline of body. One glance from that face convinced
the beholder of the deep and abiding interest felt by the friar
in all who came directly or otherwise under his guidance.
Thus mere human fellowship became transformed into a friend-
ship, strong and abiding, casting its roots into the very fibres
of the soul. And herein we have the secret of that influence
telling so much for the good of humanity, exerted by all true
spiritual guides. It is the soul standing behind and speaking
through the priest or director which gives the unction alone
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1898.] Savonarola — Monk, Patriot, Martyr. 497
carrying conviction. Thus with Savonarola, as, in spite of
insults and curses hurled against him, none the less earnestly
did he press upon men the necessity of a law so directed that
the one hundred thousand citizens within their gates might live
as brothers and children of God, their Father. With even higher
aim he led his people to see that this was the mighty purpose
of God, and the one for which He waited with infinite patience,
spite of their resistance and ingratitude : and still more, that
the history of the world was but the history of the great re-
demption wrought out upon Calvary by the Supreme Offering
there made for them, and that in this very sacrifice each one was
a helper and fellow-worker in his own place, however lowly, and
among his own people, however poor and ignorant. Thus en-
couraged, they could but feel that now was the time to aid in
this divine task of purifying Florence, and being a personal, in-
dividual matter, impulsive and warm-hearted Italians responded
to these appeals, in their own peculiar way.
"The Frate tells us we must give up our folly and vanity,
our gay attire and costly baubles. The Frate knows ; is he not
a prophet sent by heaven ? He has visions and revelations;
you can almost read them in his face* By this means only, he
says, relief can come."
So said one to another, each adding a little more by way of
confirmation, till from a spark a flame was soon kindled, reach-:
ing its climax in the Carnival, one and all taking part in it —
a carnival so unique that it has remained and always will re-
main unparalleled. This was a holocaust of all their most valued
treasures, of which " the Pyramid of Vanities " was built. Its
tree-like branches, some sixty feet high, broadening at the base
to a circumference of nearly eighty yards, showed tier upon
tier of shelves, filled to overflowing with costly jewels scattered
between pictures of priceless value, besides countless foolish
trifles, ministering to pride, pomp, or questionable pleasure.
Gunpowder and combustibles were stored in the centre of this
pile, to be set on fire on the last day of the festival, which
was done amid the blare of trumpets and hymns of praise.
Thus was closed the old-time carnival, with the inauguration of
this the new.
Other methods, though not so demonstrative, but more last-
ing in their effects, were adopted by the Frate, who ploughed
still deeper furrows for the people to harrow and sow. Thus
the self-doubt and irresolution of this fickle people was grap-
pled by a stronger will and a firmer conviction than their
VOL. Lxvi.— 32
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498 Savonarola— -MoNKy PatjuoTj Martyr. fjan.^
own, and held steadily to the good, the better, and the
best.
Knowing that upon the virtuous training of the children de-
pended the nation's future welfare, and that what could not be
accomplished with the elders might be done through the youth,
Savonarola began the work of reform some two years before
the carnival just mentioned, by establishing societies not unlike
our modern sodalities, brigades, etc., and enrolling the Floren-
tine youth, who were pledged to purity of word and act. Aside
from their own personal benefit, the Frate hoped by the zeal
and fervor of these children to shame the want of virtue in
their elders. For this chosen flock were reserved the most
elevated seats in the cathedral, and many an application did
the eloquent Dominican make in their behalf, pointing to them
as "the future glory of a city especially appointed to do the
work of God."
Equally far-reaching were his plans for the general good
when establishing the Great Council, akin to that of Venice.
In this appointments to office were limited only by age and
merit, rank and party having no weight in the matter. The
pith of the Frate's instructions led the people to feel the
necessity of subordinating their interests to the public welfare,
and through the Great Council giving a purer government to
Florence, leading the way in the renovation of the church and
the world.
Whatever the methods of Fra Girolamo, they ever bore the
same high and sacred significance, and even to the very' last,
while still laboring for his people, in dread of ihe terrible
ordeal which he foresaw awaited him, this martyr-hero could in
truth say to his remorseless judges and bitterest foes, the Ar-
rabbiati, " Do not wonder if it seems to you that I have not
told many things, for my purposes were few but great." Doubt-
less he felt that rare intensity of life which, following the
thought of another, " seems to transcend both joy and grief —
in which the mind feels in itself something akin to elder forces
that wrought out existence before the birth of pleasure dnd
pain."
The Great Council for a time won the impulsive Florentines
to better motives and worthier acts, but the> could brook no
delay in the fulfilment of their ardent desires. As they found
the anticipated millennium still delayed, the tide so happily
drifting to port and a safe harbor turned its current in the
opposite direction, and this with the greater impetuosity as the
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flood-gates had for a time been held in check. With the re-
action we find the people drifting back to much the same con-
dition as if there had never been a Savonarola to sound the
warning note of divine retribution. The leaders of the Medi-
cean party, gaining fresh courage by the failure of the French
expedition — and of the people's cause as well — resolved to car-
ry out their base designs at any cost, and revenge their recent
rebuffs. As **the head and front of their offence," the most
essential act must be the removal of Savonarola, by fair means
or foul, so the end was gained.
The Lenten course of 1495 practically closed the public
career of the great Dominican. Sore at heart in noting the
sad change in sentiment and action of the misguided Floren-
tines, he carried on the more earnestly his perilous mission.
Knowing so well their differing characters, calibres, and aims,
he realized all the more closely the effects wrought by the in-
teraction of their tendencies. From these observations he took
his bearings and guided his course accordingly.
The live questions of the hour give color and inspiration to
the thought and speech of those throwing themselves into any
impending conflict. But when a deep religious movement un-
derlies and vivifies word and work, what enthusiasm fires the
heart and flames the speech! Thus was it with the Frate in
his Lenten farewell, although it found him at its close worn
out with labor, harassed in mind, with his sad forebodings re-
garding the future of his beloved Florentines intensified by a
brief from the pope, Alexander VL, forbidding him to preach
in public.
Yielding to the mandate, he withdrew to the retirement of
San Marco. This edict of the pope at once emboldened the
Arrabbiati to such an extent that the past fearful disorders were
renewed with greater violence than ever. They being beyond
endurance, Savonarola was again permitted to resume his func-
tions at the Duomo, and offered the cardinalate, which was at
once refused.
Only for a brief time was this favor granted, during which
period he devoted himself to the relief of the sick and dying,
a terrible plague having broken out in Florence after the siege
of Pisa. At the same time he still exhorted them to penance
and good works. Again the Mediceans asserted their power,
gaining the pope to their side so far as to cause him, in May,
1497, to issue sentence of excommunication against Savonarola.
It was solemnly pronounced in the Duomo. That grand cathe-
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500 Savonarola — Monk, Patriot, Martyr. [Jan.,
dral, so long the witness of his glorious triumphs, now bore
testimony to his shanieful but unmerited disgrace. All inter-
course with him was interdicted. Alone, undefended, and un-
friended, Fra Girolamo was left to taste in all their bitterness
the ingratitude and treachery of those people for whom he was
about to lay down his life.
San Marco was mobbed — the mad rabble ran riot through
the city. The pope ordered their victim to be sent to Rome;
but they hesitated, fearing he would be the ruin of the Holy
City, though in their heart of hearts was the conviction that by
his presence could they alone be assured of safety. Generally,
if one person only urges a measure of reform, he is regarded
as a fanatic ; if many, an enthusiast ; if everybody, a hero.
The fickle Florentines, swayed by public opinion, had in turn
assigned to the Frate one or other of these rSles. Now his
sun was setting amidst darkest clouds.
On March i8, 1498, the Dominican preached his last sermon
in the Duomo ; with masterly skill as an orator holding his
people in breathless expectation, he urged upon them with
added force and tenderness the one grand purpose of their lives
— liberty of church and state, in which rulers and ruled should
alike assist. Still all in vain. The rabble, led on by the base
Compagnacci, again attacked San Marco, which barely escaped
destruction by fire, while Savonarola, alone in his cell, wrestled
with God in prayer for those seeking his life. Knowing that
his end was near, he assembled his brethren for the last fare-
well. A few moments of that intense silence, more eloquent
than speech, was at length broken by the master :
" My sons, in presence of God, and before the sacred Host,
with my enemies at hand, I confide to you my doctrine, which
came from Almighty God. He is here as my witness that
what I have said is true. I little thought the whole city would
so soon have turned against me ; but His will be done. My
last admonition to you is this : Let your arms be faith, patience,
and prayer. I leave you with pain and anguish to pass into
the hands of my enemies. I know not whether they will take
my life ; but of this I am certain, that dead I shall be able to
do for you far more in heaven, than living I ever had power
to do on earth. Be comforted ; embrace the cross — by that
you will find the haven of salvation.*'
Scarcely had he uttered the last word when the rude sol-
diers rushed in, bound the Frate, and took him away as pri-
soner. Passing on through the waiting crowd, jeers and curses
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1898.] Savonarola— MoNKy Patriot, Martyr. 501
greeted him from all sides. Then followed mock trials, repeated
at intervals for days, to which was added torture by the rack
and by fire, his limbs being stretched and bruised in every
joint, while live coals were applied to the soles of his feet,
until his worn and shattered body bore little resemblance to its
former self. The mind, too, shared even more deeply in this
cruel treatment, delirium resulting at times. This gave his ene-
mies, the judges, a chance to force from their victim a denial
of his former teachings, as in his terrible agony he exclaimed :
"It is true, what you would have me say:, yes, yes, I am
guilty ! O God ! thy stroke has reached me — let them not tor-
ture me again ! " Yet when consciousness returned, and he
was taunted for his retraction, in bitterest humiliation, laying
his mouth in the dust, he again asserted the truth of his doc-
trine, saying: "The things that I have spoken I had from God."
The last bitter drop in his chalice of deepest grief came
when, thrown back in his lonely cell, with the vulgar taunts of
the self-ignorant Florentines ringing in his ears, he was left in
utter desolation to face "a sorrow which can only be known
to a soul that has loved and sought the most perfect thing,
and beholds itself fallen." But the end was near. A man of
ordinary calibre might, perhaps, have steeled himself by risirg
above insult and ignominy. Not so Savonarola. His nature,
of the most delicate fibre, was too delicately strung not to
quiver with intensest agony at every shock received — and what
shocks were these ! Nor was personal degradation the keenest
dagger piercing his heart, but rather the conviction that his
cause was lost — that cause, the aim and endeavor of his whole
life. That it should be dragged in the dust and mire of the
vilest rabble was past endurance. No wonder that his mind
was at times utterly shattered !
Being allowed pen and paper, his last few da}s were spent
in writing, but not an accusation of his enemies, or a protest
against their proceedings; neither was a word penned in self-
vindication. The time had passed for all such emotions.
He was beyond and above all that. Facing the eternity so
near at hand, his habit of mind led rather to tender and lov-
ing communion with his divine Lord, seeking complete recon-
ciliation by perfect self-abasement. Even the thought of mar-
tyrdom, which he had often regarded as the essential act in
accomplishing his mission, does not seem to have recurred to
him. Complete abandonment to the divine will alone occu-
pied his thoughts. Hence all the more should he be honored
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502 Savonarola — Monk, Pa trio t. Martyr. [Jan.,
as a martyr, since this perfect resignation when facing the
most fearful odds can alone give the clear title to such an
honor,
" As long as the heart has passions,
As long as the heart has woes."
The cell of Savonarola was in the tower of the Palazzo, the
same in which Cosmo de' Medici had been imprisoned. From
this he was taken» on May 19, 1498, for his final trial before
the two Papal commissaries who, with the Florentine officials,
were to sit in judgment. It was, like the previous ones, a
farce and mockery, since he had been virtually doomed long
before. It closed three days later, the death sentence being
passed upon the Frate, with his two companions, Fra Domen-
ico and Fra Silvestro, who accompanied him through affection,
or, as others say, because implicated in the same charges as
their master. No intercourse, however, was allowed between
the three, who were fully resigned to their fate.
Jacopo Niccolini, a religious father, attended Savonarola.
At his request the condemned were allowed to pass the last
night together. The Frate slept a little while, resting his head
on one of his companions. In the morning, after confession to
a Benedictine, the Frate gave Holy Communion to his com-
panions. Then the summons came for the final act in the
fearful tragedy so long impending. The three victims were
conducted to the public square of Palazzo Vecchio, where a
platform had been erected, over which three halters suspended
told too plainly the fate awaiting them, to be consummated by
the burning of their bodies. A heap of brushwood had already
been prepared beneath the gibbet. In the crowd assembled
could be recognized both friends and enemies of Girolamo,
giving vent to their feelings even as he stood in the very sha-
dow of death.
The trio were first subjected to the humiliation of degrada-
tion from their functions as priests and religious. This re-
quired them to be deprived of their black mantle, white
scapular and long robe, leaving them in the close-fitting tunic
of mere seculars. Then the Florentine officials pronounced
their sentence, as heretics and schismatics, to die as male-
factors, their bodies to be consumed by fire, which indeed had
been lighted before released by death. All was carried out to
the letter, and in the spirit, too, which had actuated the chief
actors in this terrible tragedy.
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1898.] Savonarola — Monk, Patriot, Martyr, 503
The grand Duomo of Florence still holds its historic place
in Italy's fairest city, and though the voice once so eloquent
is hushed in eternal silence, yet pilgrims from all lands still
hasten to the shrine made for ever sacred by the glorious
memory of him whose presence alone hallows it for all time.
The Convent of San Marco, too, has its devotees ; with reverent
tread they enter the narrow, low-arched cell once occupied by
the famous Dominican friar. There is his portrait, the little
Bible daily used, and from which he preached; his rosary,
<:rucifix, and other objects of devotion. A bit of charred wood
is also shown, snatched from his funeral pyre. His ashes could
not be preserved, being thrown into the Arno ; but by their dis-
persion, typical of the great truths embodied in his life and
teachings, they passed " into narrow seas, and thence into the
broad ocean, and thus have become the emblem of his doctrine
dispersed all over the world."
Every individual is in a certain sense a mosaic and more
or less a composite of other men, varied by the influences,
opportunities, and environments in which his lot is cast.
Hence, in estimating the size and quality of such a man as
Savonarola all these factors must be considered. Then, not as
an American of the twentieth, or indeed of any other century,
should the Prior of San Marco be measured, but as an
Italian of the fifteenth. Yet withal, in any age, whether among
aliens or countrymen, this monk was always and everywhere
greatest among the great. In the life of this rare man history
proves that true greatness is measured by adaptability to all
exigencies, by a breadth of sympathy and a fecundity of re-
rsources unfailing in the most perilous crises. Gifts and talents
of the highest order came to him by birthright, and yet so
marked and exceptional that even from his youth he was
noted " as a white blackbird among his fellows." In his pres-
ence one felt as if in contact with some grand dynamo of in-
telligence and character. Enshrining by nature the dominant
«oul of an imperial ruler, he struggled ever with destiny against
his better, higher nature ; then with mighty resolution he
wrenched himself loose from the bonds of the illusive age into
which he had been thrown from his mother's arms, convinced
that he was destined by heaven to be the helper and deliverer
of his people.
But what is the judgment of mankind upon his success or
failure? Ever varying and strangely conflicting it must and
will ever be, until a clearer, fuller knowledge of mediaeval
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504 Savonarola — Monk, Pa trio t. Martyr. [Jan.^
history is revealed, since so much now veiled from sight is
vitally essential to a correct estimate of this wonderful man.
Then, and only then, can we know what influences made or
marred both leaders and people ; causing governments and
systems to be cast up from the great heaving mass of humanity
below. Then will the patient student and wise archaeologist
reconstruct and rehabilitate the mere historic skeletons peopHng
the miscalled " Dark Ages," since ** we know them now as the
ages wherein the new and the old were blended into something'
that was neither new nor old, but partaking of what was best
in both, gave us the highest civilization to which man had yet
attained." Surely it was not merely in court and camp, in
palace and lordly mansion, that humanity's mighty forces strug-
gled with life's strange problems ; no, not there alone, but with
the lowly, toiling masses in cot and hovel as well, where " they
saw both the present and the past in a sort of gigantic
mirage."
Only through this desired revelation shall we form our
correct estimate of the Prior of San Marco, and no longer be
left in doubt, as the saintly and venerable pontiff, Pius VII.,
when he said :
" I shall learn in the next world the mystery of that man.
War waged around Savonarola in his life-time; it has never
ceased since his death. Saint, schismatic, or heretic, ignorant
vandal or Christian martyr, prophet or charlatan, champfon of
the Roman Church or apostle of emancipated Italy — which
was Savonarola ? "
Let enlightened public sentiment answer this question by
erecting during this intervening year the first monument to his
memory on the fourth centenary of his death — May 23, 1498
— thus declaring to the world his clear claim to the title,
Monky Martyr y and Patriot of the fifteenth century.'
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1898.] The "Qui Bono?" of Infidelity. 505
THE "GUI BONO?" OF INFIDELITY,
BY A. OAKEY HALL.
[PART from the triumphant victories which Holy
Church achieves in its contests against the beliefs
— or rather unbeliefs and chronic doubts — of the
agnostic, or the free-thinker, or infidel, by what-
soever name they who deny the existence of
God or immortality choose to call themselves ; and even
separate from theology, infidelity as a possible debatable
question may be successfully combated by addressing to any
Ingersollite the old Roman question, Cui bono ? which is
colloquially surviving in the English language in the con-
stant question regarding any proposition of every-day life,
" What's the good of it ? " When IngersoU shall have perilled
a soul by endeavoring to win its possessor in mortal life to
his peculiar views — or, as he prefers to phrase it, " my doubts *'
— let that possessor ask the doughty colonel, who has lately
announced his adoption of assaults upon the church as his
profession, vice jurisprudence resigned, two questions, Cui bono ?
and also, " After you may have undermined faith, what do you
propose to put in its place ? "
Even, ex gratia argumentiy admitting that the churchman's
belief in God and immortality is a delusion, behold. Colonel
IngersoU, what a sweet and soothing faith it is, even if evei^
man should consider himself solely in the capacity of a world-
ling ! Colonel IngersoU is a litterateur^ and may be appropri-
ately asked, " Suppose the Prophets and the Apostles to have
been charlatans, where in the realm of letters can there be found
profounder philosophy, sublimer poetry, or even wonder-tales
more dramatic than those alleged charlatans have bequeathed
in writing to generation after, generation of the sons of men ?
Where even in profane fiction can be found, for instance, a
sweeter heroine than the Madonna, or a tragic hero like her
Son ? Where in the world of belles-lettres will Colonel IngersoU
find more winning biography than appears in the published
lives of the saints, and where, for another instance, a grander
romance than is Cardinal Wiseman's Fabiola?'^ The sacrifices
which the agnostic is compelled to make in matters of music
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5o6 The ''Cui Bono?'' of Infidelity. [Jan.,
and art, as he passes his life here below, are of themselves
painful. What to the agnostic, compared with the churchman,
is the delight of listening to the strains of Gounod's "Ave
Maria" or of Handel's sublime composition attached to the
words "I know that my Redeemer liveth"? To the agnostic
such music is as the warble of the canary bird, without
signification, and merely alluring to the sense of hearing, but
to the churchman doubly delightful through his beliefs. What
to the agnostic are the statues of the Apostles ? Nothing more
than those of Mars or Apollo ; while to the churchman their
sight inspires a delicious flood of heartfelt delight, historic and
holy memories, and ineffable comfort. Cardinal Newman is
known to have been an admirer of the fiction of Charles
Dickens, as Colonel IngersoU professes that he also is; but to
the former must have come deeper pleasure in reading about
the death of Paul Dombey's mother or of little Nell than
could possibly come to the latter, who believed that both of
those characters were merely annihilated.
All the beauties of that Nature which in his pagan moments
Colonel IngersoU mysteriously and darkly substitutes for a
Creator of the universe are to the churchman doubly endeared
because he says, with an English poet, when surveying ocean
or mountain or landscape and the shining stars of night, ''the
hand that made us was divine." Toward whatsoever point
of the varied business of mortal existence any one may direct
his attention, the believer in the doctrines of Holy Church will
have greater — even selfish — delight than an agnostic. What to
the latter is the sight of the cross at the apex of a cathedral
spire, or what the spire, itself, which to the faithful — in the words
of Alexander Smith, an English poet — " rears its head toward
heaven as if to plead for siniul hamlets at its base " ? Or what
to him his meeting on a promenade of a Sister of Charity on
her way to the bedside of some penitent sufferer? On every
side Christian belief exalts sentiment and deepens emotions,
while infidelity debases both. What can the latter realize of
the "Pleasures of Hope" or the. delights of faith? Whence
comes his aspiration toward duties? Therefore, on every side
must be found a negative to the question Cui bono ? as universally
applied to agnosticism. Not only is there no good in it per se^
but it compels suicide, as it were, to a thousand joys of
mortality.
Colonel IngersoU is an especial foe to prayer, and ridicules
it ; and yet it was authentically reported that at the burial
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1898.] The ''Cui Bono?"' of Infidelity. 507
of his brother he stood beside the half-filled grave, began
*' O God ! if there be a God," and then offered a quasi-peti-
tion. Therein he was obeying a natural impulse. Is not prayer
a natural impulse? The babe of tenderest years, who has ap-
parently learned to recognize father or mother — and long before
it appreciates relationship — makes its earliest movement in the
stretching out of its tiny hands, asking thereby, in natural pan-
tomime, to be taken. It is a petitioning gesture born of its
nature. If the child be of Catholic parents, and early learns
about God the Father and the Mother of God the Son, that
natural impulse for its earthly father or mother to take it to
their arms and to their protection, becomes exalted into the
desire to also stretch out its arms and make petition to its
heavenly Father and Mother, and seek rest for the soul. When
we are suddenly placed in pain or in mortal peril our first
thought is for help ; and in effect we instantly pray for it.
In providing for religious prayer the church is, therefore,
merely following the precedent of a natural impulse, but piously
cultivating and improving that impulse. In trial and tribulation
of an earthly character we at once appeal — or practically pray
— to friends or relatives or superiors for succor and relief, com-
bined with hope for it. Colonel Ingersoll, at his brother's
grave, simply and involuntarily responded to and obeyed a
natural momentary hope and an instinctive impulse. He was
in mental agony, and, forgetting his theories and prejudices,
the hope and impulse conquered. Doubtless obedience to the
impulse cheered and comforted him in his grief. In the heart
of the faithful member of Holy Church the natural impulse
has become desire ; so that before his prie-dieu, or at the
church altar, he cheers his soul and finds his life blessed by his
adoration and prayer. Of this cheer and blessing Colonel In-
gersoll seeks to deprive mankind. Agnosticism is, therefore,
not only an unserviceable restraint upon natural feeling,
as upon educated soul desire, but it also fetters human satis-
faction.
Were prayer the mistaken delusion which Ingersoll declares
it to be, the crassest agnostic cannot deny that it is to millions
not only a delightful but a comforting delusion. Even in the
iciest atmosphere which a mere worldling breathes he must ad-
mit that if prayer comforts — delusion though it might be — it
should not be frowned upon, when it can impart delight and
comfort to one who prays.
Recur again to infancy for illustration, and we can recall
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5o8 The ''Cui Bono?'' of Infidelity. [Jan.,
the Idok of many a child, or its words addressed to its nurse,
when it was in pain or in want of food ; looks or words
plainly interceding that attendant to further intercede with
its father or mother, possibly in an adjoining apartment, to
come to its relief. That also on the infant's part is natural
impulse aided by dawning reason. Nurse heeds the interces-
sion and brings father or mother to the rescue. That child,
when later received into church-fold, calls upon one of the saints
to intercede. with the Father God, or Mother Mary, or for the
direct intercession of herself with the Divine Father or Son,
much as when an infant the child looked upon its favorite
nurse for an earthly intercession.
The same child, oppressed in conscience or doubtful as to
the propriety or policy of a wish, finds its comfort in confes-
sion of fault and in assurance of forgiveness. Become an adult,
it has learned what the sting of conscience is, and what a'
balm for the sting is confession and forgiveness; and it gladly
embraces the confessional privileges of Holy Church applied to
the sting. Yet agnosticism would destroy every such comfort
and satisfaction. Yet again, Cui bono? Thus, turn whichever
way we may towards the tenets of agnosticism — if it has any
tenets at all — and test these in the crucible of Cui bono? we
shall find nothing but dross ; for the true metal appertains to
the disciple of the church. In every test applied to infidelity,
as touched by the alchemy of Cui bono? its poison to the joys
of life is readily detected. Cui bono? in the mortar wherein
chemist Ingersoll compounds with pestiferous pestle his rheto-
rical mixture, and therein leaves not one drachm of either
Hope or Faith, or of even Charity, for the Christian, the un-
pleasant and useless ingredients of his mortar are only to be
measured by avoirdupois scruples.
Ingersoll at his brother's grave mused over a senseless clod,
according to his own views. Now, in another part of the same
cemetery, at the same time, there might have been a mother
burying her child ; kneeling beside the sod, how the hope of
some day meeting that child in a blissful hereafter assuaged
her grief as she fancied it already under the care of angels !
Agnosticism would have destroyed that mother's hope and faith.
But again, Cui bono ?
Even the most unregenerate scoffer must see that the infi-
del is a useless iconoclast. He pulls down and cannot build
up. He scoffs and contrives a vacuum, which none of his in-
genuities can fill.
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1898.] Epiphany. 509
When, therefore, Colonel Ingersoll shall again professionally
appear in his rSle of downpuller, will he, can he answer this
plain question addressed to his disbeliefs and contentions — Cui
bono ? In all that he has written or uttered he has never told
what good or benefit to humanity a disbelief in God and Im-
mortality can accomplish for the happiness of his fellow-beings.
Cui bono ? would remain as an echo even when he should have
asserted such good or benefit.
Gpiphany.
^Y JESSIE WILLIS BRODHEAD.
HREE wise men from the dis-
tant East ;
What do they bring
*brate the new-born feast
Ihrist the King?
" ? Ah ! wealth from the rising
[1.
1 of the Day
his shimmering crown to One
m all obey.
kincense"? The clouds of un-
it,
bt, and despair
way on its perfumed crest
/\ii unaware.
•'Myrrh"? Bitter tears, like gems, fall free
From blinded eyes.
Wrung from the brow of Tyranny
To deck the skies.
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5IO The Indian Government and Silver. [Jan.,
THE INDIAN GOVERNMENT AND SILVER.
HE Governor-General and Council of India re-
fuse to support bimetallism. The chief meas-
ure suggested by the governments of France
and the United States as the contribution of
England to an international agreement on the
currency was the opening of the Indian mints to the free coin-
age of silver. Lord Salisbury referred the question to the
governor-general and council, and they have advised against
it. II is thought that the financial history of India since 1873
shows that the interests of that country were affected by
the virtual demonetization of silver among the leading na-
tions. We express no opinion concerning tfce effect produced
on the interests of America by the action of the German gov-
ernment at that date, and the dissolution of the Latin Union
in consequence. The question will come up again, and some-
thing may be pointed out from the instance of India to help
in its solution. We present one or two points of the recent
financial history of the last-named country, but their appli-
cation to American currency we leave to more competent
hands. Tt may be that there are factors in this country which
account for the low prices of commodities quite irrespective
of the depreciation of silver. It may be true that commodities
have not gone down in value pari passu with the fall in silver,
and that the inference that silver is not a measure of exchange
has some probability. We think, no doubt, that this inference
disregards an important point, that of the ratio to gold. We think
that involved in this is the possibility of the depressed prices
of commodities, even though in their fall the fall of silver has
outstripped them. That is to say, if silver performed the func-
tion of a measure in relation to commodities as long as
it stood in ^ nearly fixed ratio to gold, that it ceased to
exercise that function when it no longer stood in such a
ratio.
However, we do not embarrass ourselves with the factors
which are said to enter into the question in the United States.
It has been argued that the rise in the price of wheat affords
a proof that the period of agricultural depression has passed,
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1898.] The Indian Government and Silver. 511
and that America is entering on one of prosperity. If this be
so, it might be inferred that there were causes concurring during
the period just passing away that explain the low prices with-
out looking for them in the fall of silver. This would strengthen
the position of those who have contended all along that any one
who eliminates such factors is rejecting the most important
materials for an opinion on the economic condition of the
country. We do not know ; we might even suggest that the
rise in the price of wheat is due to the failure of the wheat
crop of other countries, but that would not be a permanent
factor.
To return to the question as affecting India, it occurs to us
that in the reply of the governor-general and council, on which
Lord Salisbury has based his decision, two circumstances must
be taken into account. They react on each other, but not to
the degree that prevents them from being separately con-
sidered. I. The reply does not emanate from a responsible and
independent government ; that is, it may be the echo of the
judgment of the British government. 2. It wears the aspect
of an argumentative opinion in a sense not demanded by in-
ternational courtesy. In other words, it is an argument as to
the validity of which its authors seem in doubt. We are en-
titled to look at the reasoning rather than the conclusion. We
are entitled to treat it as the defence of a policy, and not the
instructed judgment of experts possessing peculiar sources of
information. We therefore may apply to it the rule to be
adopted in the case of an experiment, and an experiment, too,
tested by results. It is an experiment in finance recently ini-
tiated ; its results are said to be disastrous.
Now, the governor-general and council in their paper go
somewhat upon the lines that the policy is an experiment, but
one that has not had a fair trial ; but with curious confusion*
while asking for the consideration due to an experiment, they
demand the verdict on a successful policy of long standing.
They say that " the first result of the suggested measures, if
they were to succeed even temporarily in their object, would be
intense disturbance of Indian trade and industry." It is not
disputed, then, that a measure of success would follow the adop-
tion of the proposals. If so, we should like to know what ex-
actly is the character of the disturbance of trade and industry
to be feared. We can think of no disturbance except such as
would follow a payment in silver to English and Scotch ex-
porters for goods intended to be sold at gold prices. But if
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512 The Indian Government and Silver. [Jan.,
the Indian .government think this would be a payment in de-
preciated silver they are mistaken, for it would be a payment
in silver and gold — as we calculate, four parts silver, three parts
gold. If we take the rise in the rupee anticipated by the gov-
ernor-general and council from the adoption of the measure
— namely, a rise to is. iid, — this would be the quality of the
payment, on the assumption that England herself adhered to
the gold standard. At least this seems to be theoretically the
correct view; for we think that an appreciation of silver in
these conditions does not by any means infer a depreciation of
gold.
We are fortunate in possessing in the recent history of
Indian currency a distinct and leading element which will en-
able us to discard factors which, in other countries, are pointed
out as concurrent causes in disturbing the equilibrium between
gold and silver as measures of value. Before we advance one
step in this direction, it is well we should state that, although
gold monometallists treat silver in their discussions ^s a mere
commodity, they recognize it as a medium of exchange in their
transactions. It is not a mere commodity ; there is still a con-
siderable difference between the face value of the silver coin
and the bullion price. In India, low as it has gone, the bul-
lion price is to the coined value as 24 is to 4oX* As a conse-
quence of this we may justly infer that, much as silver has
depreciated, and though the leading nations do not use it as
legal tender, it is a part of the legal tender, a part of the
standard of value for the entire world. The Bank of England
is empowered to keep a fifth of its reserve in silver, and this
can only be at the face value of the silver coinage, whatever
that may be at the time. In connection with this provision we
suggest the true principle of nomenclature, that the metals in
which exchanges are measured are immaterial, so far as their
names go. That is, no one need care what the standard may
be called — let it be gold or silver, or both. A standard is what
is wanted, and not a gold token or a silver one. If such a
measure cannot be obtained from a single metal and can be
from two, the two ought to constitute the standard. There
are not two standards erected by this, no more than there
would be two different measures in a pint goblet of silver and
a pint one of pewter. We do not yet say the two metals are
necessary to constitute the standard. If gold be stable, if it
has practically remained a constant measure of value since
1873, there is no need to supplement it by silver. If it has
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1898.] The Indian Government and Silver, 513
not remained constant, it is no longer a fair measure. Looked
at this way, we think bimetallism, as it is called, may not be
the unprincipled proposal of debtors desirous of escaping pay-
ment of their debts.
In England a great deal of confusion of thought was im-
ported into the discussion of proposals to make silver a legal
tender equally with gold, at a ratio of 15^ to i, or to make it
legal tender to an amount to be ascertained. We think it
possible that the sounder principle would be that of unrestricted
legal tender, but something may be said in favor of the other
as a compromise. In any case, the public were confused by the
jarring of both sides and by an old-fashioned prejudice which
worked strongly against the advocates of silver. These were
regarded as '* theorists," while the banking men, who main-
tained gold, were looked upon as " practical men." The former
were mostly economists of reputation, professors in the univer-
sities who had at their fingers' ends all the learning which
threw light on the subject of wealth national and commercial ;
but the bankers and business men had been handling money
all their lives, and must know all about it. Moreover, they had
solid interests involved in the financial system of the country,
and if " bimetallism " were the best system it would have been
their interest to employ it. Add to this, the professors us<d
highly technical language and argued at interminable length.
The short, sharp, confident views of the moneyed men were
catching by contrast. "Robbery," "national bankruptcy,"
" making a present of ;^500,ooo,ooo to the rest of the world,
which owed England ;^ 1,000,000,000," were appeals that sounded
convincingly to nine men out of ten. These catch-words meant
nothing, but they smote the ear as if they meant the ruin
of British commerce and the disbandment of her industrial
armies.
Still the question may have been rightly handled by the
"theorists," as possibly may be shown from the instance of
India, to which we shall refer a little in detail by and by.
Meanwhile it is worth considering that there has been a re-
markable depression in agricultural industries both in this
country and England ; and that this has been referred by the
advocates of silver to the demonetization of that metal. If the
depression of such interests were confined to England, it might
be reasonably maintained that American competition explained
the whole ; but when we find that manufacturing industries have
enormously increased in this country within the last decade,
VOL. Lxvi.— 33
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514 The Indian Government and Silver. fJ^n.,
and with that an unprecedented increase of population, while
the farmers in the West are mortgaged to the hilt, the solution
is not to be found there.
This last consideration offers two aspects of a serious
character: first, the farmers borrowed money in order to carry
on their operations; second, the capital sum to be paid on
redemption of the land is larger than that borrowed, while the
rate of interest was steadily increasing. We suggest an illustra-
tion of the effect of the appreciation of gold, say during the last
twenty years, on a mortgage executed in 1877. The borrower
obtained $10,000; he has to pay, when he redeems, $15,000.
He borrowed it at 5 per cent., he has been paying an increased
interest during the time, and the last gale is at the rate of 7J^.
The fault is not his. If he had entered into a covenant to
pay such a bonus on redemption, together with an increasing
interest while the debt was outstanding; and if it could be at
all shown that the mortgagee had taken advantage of his
necessity to force such a condition upon him, he would be
relieved in a court of equity. The decree by such a court
would be that the land stand security for the $io,coo alone at
the court rate of interest, which in England is only 4 per cent.
It is not altogether a too fanciful notion to point out that
there must be something vicious in a standard of value the
effects of which are identical with those that would make a
contract fraudulent and void in a court of equity.
Bearing this in mind, we ask attention to the fact that the
closing of the mints in India immediately reduced the rupee
from IS, Sd. to is. 4^. The influence of the Sherman Act on
India was to raise the rupee from below i^. 4^., to which it had
fallen since 1873, to is. Sd. Its exchange value, we understand*
is at present is. 2]4d. The governor-general and council, in
their reply, say that if the ratio of 15 J^ to i were adopted,
the rupee would be raised to is. iid.j and the effect of that
would be to kill the infant export trade for a time " at least,
unless the public were convinced that the arrangement would be
permanent and have the effect intended." This reasoning is
curious. The closing of the mints took place in 1893, with the
effect of reducing the rupee one-fifth in value ; it is now reduced
more than one-fourth in value. Was this result foreseen ? It is
hardly conceivable, because it meant a loss to the Indian rev.
enue that can hardly be estimated. It may range from at least
;^ 1 6,000,000 a year to ;i^20,ooo,ooo a year. Then why require
that the effects of a reversal of the policy should be made cer-
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1898.] The Indian Government and Silver, 515
tain beforehand to the public before trying the old policy again ?
The Indian public — it is they who must be considered, not the
people of England — believe that a reversal of the policy — in other
words, a return to the old policy — will save from ;^i6,coo,cco
to ;£'20,ooo,ocX) a year, that individual wealth will increase one-
fourth, while the governor-general and council think it will in-
crease one-third. The present policy is an experiment, and it is
believed a disastrous one ; if so, there can be no objection to
an experiment in the form of its reversal. This seems logically
sound, but, in addition, both parties believe that this course
would produce an immediate advantage ; they only differ as to
its duration. They only differ, if they really do differ — if they
honestly differ — in the possibility that the benefit might not be
permanent. The balance of probability is in favor of the view
entertained by the people of India, and that is as much as can
be required to justify any policy. The people of India have
every reason to think their view is the right one. The de-
preciation of silver, which began in 1873, gradually affected
Indian revenue. The government found it impossible to make
ends meet without fresh taxation, loans, the diversion of funds
from their proper channels, by violation of engagements amount-
ing to fraud with tributary princes, by every expedient through
which a desperate and irresponsible authority raises resources
from its subjects. In this year the new Indian loan, offering a
higher rate of interest than the loan of the preceding year,
was slowly taken up below par in London, whereas the loan of
the preceding year was snapped up above par. It would seem,
if gold monometallism is a safe standard, that the experiences
of the Indian government are strangely unfortunate ; the people
are impoverished by the loss of half their savings,* burdened
by taxation for which- there would be no need under a sound
currency, and the government seems to have reached the first
step on the downward road to a credit as respectable as that
of the Sultan, or of the Khedive before England became trustee
for the creditors of the latter.
We have some difficulty in examining the passage which states
that trade and industry would be destroyed and the young ex-
port trade extinguished if the rupee were to rise to u. \\d. The
only way we conceive that it could be argued that a rupee at
IS. 2]4d. would favor native industries, while a rupee at is.
lid. would kill them, is that the low price would act as a
♦ This is the calculation by Indians themselves, based on the closing of the mints. A
number of circumstances enter into the calculation, all of which flow from that policy.
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5i6 The Indian Government and Silver. [Jan.^
protection. It is conceivable that this could happen under cer-
tain conditions, but not one of them is present in India. If
there were a desire to encourage such industries on a scale com-
mensurate with the vastness of the population, the restoration of
the ;i^i6,ooo,ooo to ;^ 20,000,000 a year now lost by the deprecia-
tion of silver would be incomparably more certain to accomplish
it than a policy which makes the people too poor to import, too
poor to export, unless English capital comes in to employ labor
at a rate that is not wages but the iron servitude of necessity.
Finally, the argument is of no value even from the point of view
of the council, because the industries of India, apart from agri-
culture, are barely perceptible.
To take the Indian view more decidedly than we have done
yet, we beg to point out that the depreciation in silver which
had been going on since the suspension of the Latin Union
was arrested by the Sherman Act in 1890. The exchange value
of the rupee, as we have already mentioned, rose from \s. 4//.
to \s. %d. What secret history underlies the resolve to close
the mints it is impossible to say ; but for government expen-
diture in India itself there was in the three years that followed
the Sherman Act a considerable saving. We are informed, on
Indian authority, that the acuteness of the famine was increased
and its area extended by one effect of the demonetization,
namely, that savings were reduced one-half in value. People
who would have escaped that visitation were carried into it
through a policy whose effect was to confiscate their little for-
tunes. It is a sad thing to tell, but when it became necessary
to change their articles of silver into coin in order to purchase
food, they, for the first time, learned with despair that half the
value of their hoards was gone.
We therefore think, upon the whole, that the reasoning of
the governor-general and council cannot be deemed valid. If
a ratio of 15^ to i between silver and gold had been main-
tained for a long period, from 1687 up to 1873, by the opera-
tion of economic laws not unduly fettered by legislation, it is
probable that a return to the conditions ante quo 1873 would
restore the equilibrium. It is not material that England had
previously maintained a gold standard, because the main eiiect
of bimetallism, as we understand it, was produced when all the
other leading nations allowed silver as a legal tender. The
effect, as we have pointed out, was the virtual establishment of
a standard formed of the two metals at a practically settled
ratio. The ratio was fixed in a manner not altogether different
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1898.] The Indian Government and Silver. 517
from the way the relative prices of beef and mutton are fixed.
If one becomes too dear the demand for the other increases,
and consequently their prices cannot go farther apart than
supply and demand regulate them. But the demonetization of
silver by Germany, and the consequent dissolution of the Latin
Union, caused the world to use gold practically as the standard
of exchange. This would probably give a factitious value to it,
keep sending it up indefinitely, so that it no longer possessed
that stability which is the essential quality of a standard. The
effect of this may be fairly illustrated by an analogy and an
effect. Gold may be compared to a standard measure which
twenty years ago would contain three gallons, but which
time has so truncated that it now only contains two, or its
effect may be seen in the difference of the value of the same
land circumstanced as to situation, soil, and facilities precisely
in 1897 as in 1877, but requiring three acres in 1897 to
produce in gold prices^hat two acres afforded in 1877. This
probability, that a factitious value was given to gold by the
events of 1873, seems proved by whaUwe have stated to be the
result of demonetization in India ; and so we leave to our
readers the task of applying our argument to the circumstances
of America.
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fL Hew ysAi^ ^i^AYBi^.
BY F. W. GREY.
Thou, in the past, hast helped us, and defended :
Be with us in the year this day begun ;
Thou knowest all that we have said and done,
Thou knowest what shall be : in love hast tended,
Guarded and guided in the past ; befriended,
Blessed us, unworthy ; still, from sun to sun.
Watched over us. Thy brethren ; there is none
Faithful and true as Thou. A year is ended,
With all its sins and sorrows : lo ! to-day
Another year begins ; Thou only knowest
What it shall bring to us ; we can but pray
To Thee, who every needful grace bestowest,
That, as we strive to walk the way Thou showest.
Thou wilt be, ever more, our Strength, our Stay.
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1898.] Colored People in Baltimore, Md. 519
TWENTY YEARS' GROWTH OF THE COLORED
PEOPLE IN BALTIMORE, MD.
VERY REV. JOHN R. SLATTERY,
St. foseph's Seminary^ Baltimore^ Md.
In preparation for the November elections, the city
authorities had a police census taken. One re-
sult of their labors is striking, in that it shows
the very large number of colored people — in
round numbers 100,000 — in the Monumental City.
In other words, one-fifth of the inhabitants of Baltimore are
negroes. To point out some results and to jot down various
outcomes of this wonderful growth of the children of Ham is
the object of the writer, who has finished twenty years of labor
in behalf of the blacks. The census of 1870 put the negroes
in Baltimore at 39,558. In 1880 they had risen to 53,716.
By taking an average, it should seem that in 1877, twenty
years ago, the negroes numbered about 49,500. As now they
touch* the 100,000 mark, they have, therefore, more than doubled.
How is this increase explained ? It came from many causes ;
partly from natural growth, partly from migrations out of lower
Maryland. Virginia, also, and North Carolina helped to swell
the figures. As to natural results, we know one family where,
in four generations, from the great-grand-parents to the great-
grand-children, the offspring were seventy-seven ; of whom all
of the second and third generations, except two, attained ma-
jority and married. In another family, by the time she was
thirty.six years old, the mother had given birth to twenty-five
children. Phthisis, typhoid, and pneumonia work sad havoc
among the urban negroes because of imperfect sanitation in
poor dwellings and unhealthy alleys. But time and the greed
of the real-estate agents are correcting these evils. While
negroes are more prostrated when diseases come upon them,
yet they recover more rapidly than the whites when health
has been impaired by cuts, wounds, breaks, and the like.
STEADY MIGRATION OF THE NEGROES.
Both to Washington and to Baltimore there has been, since
the war, a steady flow of colored people ; to the capital above
all, for Washington is their Mecca. To-day, both cities are
willing to see that the negroes are numerous within their limits.
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520 Twenty Years' Growth of the [Jan.,
An ostrich-like policy has been followed for years, but the
omnipresent negro, "avec son rire 6ternel,*' confronts the wise-
acres of the nation, and the offspring of the Maryland line, at
every turn.
A distinguished prelate of the Catholic Church once told,
in our hearing, of a banquet in Washington, at which were
seated men high in public life, cabinet officers, senators, con-
gressmen, and others. The chat turned on the growth of the
negroes in the capital. It was admitted on all sides that it
was too serious a matter to be overlooked and henceforth a
question deserving thoughtful study.
In spite of the exodus from beyond the Potomac, which is
ever going on, there is not only no decrease of the black popu-
lation of the South, but rather a striking increase, as any one
may verify from the census. Again, out of Baltimore pours a
constant stream of negroes northward and westward. In our
travels we have met Catholic negroes from Baltimore in
Philadelphia, New York, Boston, Buffalo, Chicago, and other
places. In fact, take away the Maryland Catholics and their,
offspring from the churches east of the Alleghanies, whether
devoted specially to the colored people or the ordinary parish
church in which they worship God with their white neighbors,
and there would be left few Catholic negroes indeed.
RESULTS OF THE GROWTH OF THE NEGROES.
Now, the first result is expansion. The colored people are
rapidly spreading over Baltimore. Wherever we turn we meet
them dwelling on new streets. Especially is this the fact in
the north-west section. Without much effort we might name
fully thirty streets where their presence, save as servants, was
unknown ten years ago. One ward, the Eleventh, called the
Shoe-string ward because of the peculiar shape which the poli-
ticians gave it, has a majority of colored people, so that in
the Baltimore City Council there is nearly always a colored
member. For natural site, the north-west section is in every
way desirable ; hence it seems strange that it should be so
largely taken hold of by colored people. Small blame to them,
however, for moving out of the alleys in the heart of the town
and getting on good streets, pleasant to the eye, especially when
the rent is about the same. Yet as fast as one set vacate the
alleys, another, and usually a lower, drift into them. Under
our eyes there is the strangeness of our colored citizens reach-
ing outward into new places and at the same time holding on
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1898.] Colored People in Baltimore, Md. 521
to their old haunts. Save where an occasional factory or large
warehouse has intruded itself, the colored people occupy the
same streets they lived in twenty years ago ; nay, one might
name fifty other streets into which this unobtrusive race has
quietly pushed its way. We cannot' remember that a single
street, once in their possession, was ever abandoned by them.
SENSITIVENESS OF THE WHITES.
Not so the whites. Whenever a negro moves into a street
the whites flutter away. They simply vanish. As the blacks
vacate no streets, the whites verge more and more toward the
suburbs. The outcome is, that to-day Baltimore is a city of
valuable suburbs and ever-cheapening city homes.
The way that property values have gone down in the heart of
the city is beyond belief. As the white race fear the negroes,
so do the Gentiles the Jews. One of the most ornate places
in Baltimore is Eutaw Square. Of boulevard width, with park
in the centre, richly beautified by countless flowers and many
a fountain, it seemed destined to be the home of the " upper
ten." Some years ago a son of Abraham bought a house on
it, and lo ! the Gentiles began to disappear. Jacob and Rebecca
took their place. To-day, that charming spot is called, in the
town's chitchat, " Jewtaw " Square. Again, in the eastern sec-
tion, known as ** Old Town," Russian Jews now monopolize the
buildings out of which the Irish and their offspring fled.
DEVELOPMENT OF SCHOOLS.
Just as patent as the growth of the population are the in-
crease and development of the schools. The public-school sys-
tem for the negroes is a post-bellum institution. From 1829,
when they were founded, till after the war, the Oblate Sisters
of Providence, a community of colored women, taught the
three " R's " to the most of their race, Catholic as well as Prot-
estant enjoying that knowledge. At present the middle-aged
people of the colored race in Baltimore owe whatever educa-
tion they have to t)' . religious women of their own race.
There are exceptior '<ever, the chief being the private
schools. Nowaday/ * almost gone. But twenty years
ago they were st" *re or six to twenty-five or thirty
pupils would f /. Almost the last, as well as the
best liked by i, was a school kept by three sisters
named Berr P^d off one by one, the school still
holding Of ^t, known to every one of her race as
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522 Twenty Years' Growth of the [Jan.,
" Cousin Lizzie/' died some years ago. She was a very holy
soul, and for a generation had been prefect of the women's
sodality of St. Francis Xavier's. For six years the writer was
its director. On taking charge he found that Vespers and
Compline of the Little Office were recited at the meetings ;
when, not without a little pride of voice and air, they would
intone the antiphon "I am black but beautiful." Thinking
the beads were better suited, the director had them recited in
place of the office. Fearing to offend the old prefect, he had
her always lead, while he joined in the response. This privi-
lege was never forgotten, so that when " Cousin Lizzie " came to
die she sent for him and asked him to accept the only treasure
she had, a pair of fine old silver candelabra. This, of course,
he gratefully did.
The public schools, however, have ended the private. Great
strides have been made with them, although as yet they are
far too few to receive the colored children of school age.
Their growth has been slow but steady. Among the first
changes was the handing over of some white schools to the
negroes. Old family residences on old-time fashionable streets
were hired by the authorities and used for colored schools,
often to the great relief of their distressed owners. A next
step was the high school, spick and span new from cellar to attic,
on East Saratoga Street, within a stone's-throw of the fashion-
able Charles Street. More new schools were put up for the
colored children. Nor was this all. Colored teachers were
then brought into the city schools as teachers. Finally a de-
partment was added to the manual training school for colored
boys. At present for the black school population of Baltimore
are the high school, manual training school, and upwards of
twenty grammar and primary schools. To these must be added
the Catholic schools, in which there are about a thousand chil-
dren. The number of schools might be doubled and no fear
of over-crowding remain ; the supply is far too little for the
demand.
AN EVIL GROWTH.
While all this is very encouraging, there is, however, one
very harmful growth : the number, ever increasing, of liquor-
stores in the colored sections of the city. Ln 1894 the United
States Department of Labor issued a bulletin on "The Slums
of Baltimore, Chicago, New York, and Philadelphia.*' It shows
that there are. more liquor-stores, pro rata, in the slums of Bal-
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1898.] Colored People in Baltimore, Md. 523
timore than in any one of the other cities. Baltimore has more,
pro rata, than New York or Chicago. The poorer parts of
Baltimore are where so many colored people live, hence they
become a prey to the saloon. Especially is this true of the
Eleventh ward, known as the Black ward. Turn where you will,
the saloon is ever before you. On the principal streets, on
the cross streets, in the first floor of residences where the trou-
ble to turn the dwelling into a store is not taken. Now, these
saloons in the Eleventh ward are supported by the negro. Fur-
thermore, twenty years ago there was hardly a negro keeping
a saloon ; but nowadays they are in the business, rivalling the
white dealers in ruining their own race.
NEEDS OF THE NEGRO.
From all, or nearly all, trades the colored man is shut out.
No negro apprentice will be found at bricklaying, carpentry,
painting, tinning, smithing, etc. On this head the position of
the Knights of Labor and the Federation of Labor is simply
unintelligible. If organized labor say but the word, colored
youth will get trades. The boycott goes further — it extends to
factories, save the places for canning fruits and vegetables. Fur-
ther still, the boycott shuts out all colored youth of both sexes
from shop and store employment, sdve to run errands. Let
the offspring of the most undesirable race of Europe appear in
the streets of Baltimore, they may work at their trades and
have their children master them ; but when it is a question of
the colored man, ** No Admittance " is written over every trade
shop. In the history of this world the negro has proved a
never-dying Nemesis. In Time's whirligig it may be his turn
to write over these same shops " Ichabod ** — their glory is
gone.
Factories are now being thrown open to colored women in
the South ; v,g.^ at Charleston, S. C, and Augusta, Ga. The
day cannot be far distant when they will enter the factories of
Baltimore. Competition sooner or later will prove the "open
sesame." Indeed, it seems suicide to leave one hundred thou-
sand so helpless for a livelihood as are the colored people of
Baltimore. No city can afford to ostracize one-fifth of its
inhabitants. One hundred thousand people out of five hundred
thousand cannot be a cipher, cannot be ignored, cannot
always be forgotten. In time trades, factory-work, and shop-
selling will fall to colored workmen and women. More
avenues of employment are now a crying need, \{ the youth of
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524 Twenty Years' Growth of the [Jan.,
the colored race are to be made thrifty and fond of work.
The fact that the professions are open to them helps but little.
Professional people are the few. Clergymen, lawyers, doctors,
teachers are always in small numbers when compared to the
bulk. Their presence widens not the ways of employment for
the masses of their race.
NEED OF LEADERS.
Higher than all their other needs is that of leaders. The
colored people are in need of great men of their own flesh
and blood to point out the way for them. Plenty of leaders,
such as they are, are to be seen ; but a really great man, like
Toussaint L'Ouverture or Frederick Douglass, is sadly called
for. What Parnell did for the Irish, some black Parnell must
do for the colored. The chief work of a leader should be to
unite his people. Jealousies, bickerings, party feelings, the
common entail of down-trodden peoples, hurt very much the
advance of the negro.
GROWTH OF THE CATHOLIC CHURCH IN BALTIMORE.
Let US now take up the growth of the Catholic Church.
In 1877 St. Francis Xavier's was the one* Catholic church for
the colored people in Baltimore. The building itself is histori-
cal. When in the hands of the Protestants it was the scene of
many conventions and a favorite of lecturers. The Convention
which intended to carry Maryland into the Confederacy was
held within its walls. It was then a Unitarian church. General
Benjamin F. Butler surrounded the church with his troops and
carried off the assembly as prisoners to Fort McHenry. Dur-
ing the war it was used as a hospital, where many of the
wounded from Gettysburg, even, were attended. After the war
Father Michael O'Connor, S.J., once Bishop of Pittsburg,
bought it for a colored church. In December, 1871, it passed
into the hands of the Fathers of St. Joseph's Socie'ty. It is
the Mother Church of colored Catholics. In 1877 there were
churches for the colored people in Charleston, Louisville, St.
Louis, Washington ; but all younger than St. Francis. A little
more than five years afterwards, January, 1883, St. Monica's
was dedicated and opened for the colored people of South
Baltimore. Again, after the lapse of another five years and
some months, viz., in September, 1888, St. Peter Claver's was
opened in North-west Baltimore for the negroes living in that
section. All qf these churches were formerly Protestant and
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1898.] Colored People in Baltimore, Md. 525
for the Avhites. Their purchase and dedication served a double
purpose — lessening the number of meeting-houses and increas-
ing the facilities for those Catholics who knew that, because of
color, they were looked upon as out of place in the other churches
of their faith. Notwithstanding this drain upon it, St. Francis
still holds its own, as will be seen from the subjoined figures,
taken from the official registers of the church. They are for the
past twenty years (November, 1877-November, 1897), and give
only colored people:
Register for 1880.
Baptisms,
4,634
Converts, .
870
First Communions,
1,200
Confirmations,
1,425
Marriages, .
621
Mixed marriages, .
302
In the baptisms are not included 650 negro children bap-
tized in St. Elizabeth's Home for colored waifs and strays.
Nor in the above lists are presented the registers of the other
churches, St. Monica's and St. Peter Claver's. Again, the
negroes over whom the stole is worn in the parochial churches,
a goodly number of late years, are also excluded. The congre-
gation has varied from 5,000 to 4,000. »
In 1877 there was but one school in the city, not including
the academy of the Colored Sisters of Providence. Its sessions
were held in the basement of the church, while its teachers
were laics. In 1881 the Franciscan Sisters from Mill Hill, Lon-
don, England, took charge of the school, which thereafter was
held on Courtland Street in the building now in use. For-
merly this was the boys' school of the cathedral, but was sold
by the Christian Brothers to the Congregation of St. Francis
Xavier's. At St. Monica's, South Baltimore, a school, held in
the basement of the church, has flourished from its opening,
1883. The Sisters of St. Francis, Glen Riddle, teach the chil-
dren of St. Peter Claver's school. In September last two gra-
duates of the school passed the examination and were received
into the high school. Beside these, St. Elizabeth's Home for
Waifs has grown up. It began in an alley about twenty years
ago. Three years later a fine dwelling on a prominent street
was secured for it. Some nine years ago the grown-up girls
were brought to another place in the northern section of the
city. In 1895 a large building was erected on the site of the
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526 Twenty Years' Growth of the [Jan.,
old home, St. Paul Street. During seventeen years these
English Franciscans have labored in Baltimore, where they
teach the girls* school of St. Francis Xavier's, have charge of
St. Elizabeth's Home, the industrial school of our Lady and
St. Francis, and, finally, have opened a novitiate for the
training of their subjects, instead of sending them across the
ocean.
In 1892 the Sisters of the Good Shepherd opened, in the
suburbs^ a shelter for incorrigible colored girls. This year they
have built a large wing, so as to accommodate the ever-growing
number of committals.
Again, the Oblates of Providence, a community of colored
women dating from 1829, had but one house in 1877, and that
heavily in debt. To-day they are about free of debt, and have
an academy and school of St. Cyprian in Washington, D. C;
two institutions in St. Louis, and an orphanage and schools
in Leavenworth, Kan. Next come St. Joseph's Seminary and
Epiphany College, in both of which are one hundred aspirants
for the Apostolate among the negroes. Lastly, St. Francis
Xavier's has one of its sons in the priesthood. The Rev.
C. R. Uncles, a colored man, was baptized, made his First
Communion, was confirmed, and sung his first Mass in St.
Francis Xavier's Church.
FINANCIAL STATUS.
In 1875 t^^ old church was rebuilt and badly hampered
with debt. At that time a collection was taken up in Phila-
delphia to help out. This is the only time, since 1871, that St.
Francis Xavier's got help from outside. The colored people
do their best to keep up the church. Pew-rents, ten and fifteen
dollars a year, or two-fifty and three-seventy-five a quarter;
plate collections, annual fairs, with three or four concerts, work
together for the church's maintenance. Perquisites are not, as
yet, well understood. For baptisms, the average return is
about thirteen cents a child ; while for marriage, the writer has
received an empty envelope. On one occasion, the four at the
rail, bride and groom, bridesmaid and best man, made a collec-
tion and passed over to " his reverence " ninety-four cents.
The support of the clergy is secured, because they ask no
salaries and throw their stipends and perquisites into a com-
mon fund.
At present, St. Francis Xavier's congregation own the church
(Calvert and Pleasant Streets), the rectory (401 Courtland Street),
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the Lyceum, 345 Courtland Street (a defunct young men's club),
and the school-house (412 Courtland Street). On the church,
school-house, and Lyceum there is no debt; on the rectory is
a mortgage of four thousand dollars.
But a peculiar Baltimore nuisance affects three of these
places, viz.: the ground-rent, that open sore of the Monu-
mental City.
On the church is a ground-rent of $270.00
" " school " " 96.00
" " lyceum " " 39.25
Interest on mortgage, . . . 200.00
Annual entailed outlay, . . $605.25
To the poor congregation the Negro and Indian Fund, up
to 1897, allotted three hundred dollars — little more than is
needed for the ground-rent of the church, not one-half of the
entailed yearly expenses. For thirty-odd years the poor
colored Catholics from their scanty earnings have stood to their
church loyally and, we may add, proudly. This year, however,
four hundred and twenty-five dollars were assigned to it from
the Negro and Indian Fund.
To them the church is everything ; their social centre, the
gathering place for their friends,, the one spot where, fully as
much if not more than in their dwellings, they feel at home.
Hence the United States postal authorities of Baltimore send
all curiously directed letters to St. Francis Xavier's rectory,
and it is no uncommon event to call out from the altar the
• number of letters awaiting owners. The general sunshiny
temperament of the negro race make church cares very light
for the clergy. While regarded as an emotional people, it is
difficult to arouse them to enthusiasm ; more difficult to win
their confidence. Good and pious as he may be, the priest is
a white man, who, if he wishes to carry his negroes with him,
must first show his love and his sympathy for them.
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528 Hardships of Catholic Exiles in Siberia. [Jan.,
THE HARDSHIPS OF CATHOLIC EXILES IN
SIBERIA.
BY A. M. CLARKE.
HE condition of the unfortunate Polish exiles in
Siberia would awaken more genuine commisera-
tion were it more widely known to how great
an extent they are deprived of the consolations
of religion, and under what difficulties the pas-
tors labor who minister to the scattered members of Christ's
flock in that inhospitable region. Some gleanings from the let-
ters of a missionary priest, whose work lies amongst those
exiles, may not be without interest for the reader. They will,
at any rate> afford him an insight into the status of Catholics
under the rule of the czar, and serve to enlist his sympathies
on behalf of both priests and people, who suffer for their stead-
fast allegiance to the see of Peter.
The Abb6 Gromadski, provost of Tomsk, is a holy and
zealous priest, who has no other object in life than the dili-
gent discharge of his pastoral duties, the furtherance of the
spiritual and temporal welfare of the souls committed to his
charge. His parish is of vast extent, large enough to form a
kingdom in itself. In the exercise of his sacerdotal functions
he habitually makes journeys in which enormous distances are
covered and dangers incurred such as would appall any but a
veteran traveller. But, however late the hour, however incle-
ment the weather, every summons finds him ready to sally forth
on an errand of mercy, to carry spiritual succor wherever it is
needed and solicited. Numerous indeed are the blessings in-
voked upon his head by the souls whom he reconciles with
their Maker, whom he relieves from the burden of sin. the
weight of temporal anxiety, before .bidding them go forth from
this life of sorrow. Great also is the reward awaiting him in
heaven when his self-denying labors shall be ended.
One of the chief obstacles he has to contend against is the
absence, in the distant towns and outlying villages whither his
parochial visitations bring him at stated intervals, of any place
where the Catholics can be gathered together for Mass and in-
struction. Therefore, apart from the objects that engage his
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VOL. LXVI. — 34
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530 Hardships of Catholic Exiles in Siberia. [Jan.^
attention in connection with his own church at Tomsk, his chief
ambition at present is to build in different localities rooms for
divine worship. These houses of prayer must be called halls or
assembly rooms, otherwise there would be little or no chance of
obtaining permission for their construction from the government^
since the erection of Catholic churches or chapels is strictly
forbidden.
The Catholics of Ekaterinburg are, however, exceptionally
favored in this respect, for, M. Groms^dski informs us, the
4th of November, 1884, witnessed the dedication of a church
in that town. For this the inhabitants were indebted to the
exertions of two pious gentlemen, one of whom succeeded in
procuring the permission. The other supplied the greater part
of the funds for the building. Before that time they were
dependent for the Sacraments on the ministrations of the priest
of Perm, a district beyond the Ural Mountains, who, in making
the rou;id of his immense parish, once a year visited Ekaterin-
burg. The gratitude of the Catholic population to their bene-
factors knows no bounds. Long and painful privation of the
means of grace does not appear to have the effect of render-
ing these unhappy people indifferent to them ; it rather in-
creases their appreciation of the privilege of having the Holy
Sacrifice daily offered in their midst. M. Gromadski relates
that a Catholic family, coming jEjom a distant province, arrived
in Tomsk on a Sunday, and entered the church while Mass
was being celebrated. They burst into tears and convulsive
sobs, so that their agitation attracted the notice of the priest.
On the conclusion of the service he asked them what misfor-
tune had befallen them. They replied: •' Reverend father, it
is now ten years since we saw a church, since we heard Mass
or went to confession. The sight of a priest at the altar, the
sound of the familiar words, seemed to us like heaven ; yet it
filled us with grief so profound that it was impossible to re*
strain our tears."
In the town of Tumen a resident priest is sorely needed.
It is on the banks of the Yura, on the direct route followed
by those who are banished to a more distant region. Eastern
Siberia. As soon as the navigation of the river ceases — and
this occurs at an early date in Siberia — troops of exiles, un-
able to pursue their journey, congregate in Tumen, where they
remain for at least eight months, waiting until the ice breaks
up. Several thousands of exiles, of whom a considerable
proportion are Catholics, pass yearly through this town. If we
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include the families of some government employees, a few
artisans, and other Catholics residing in the district, it may' be
said that, in round numbers, there are fully a thousand souls,
within a comparatively small circumference, entirely destitute
of the means of grace. Sometimes God, who is ever mindful
of his own, assists some poor creature in the hour of need in
an unlooked-for manner. It happened recently that on one of
the vessels laden with exiles of every condition was* a mother,
whose end, as well as that oi her newly-born infant, was hourly
expected. The distress of the poor lady at dying in this man-
ner was indescribable. Just at that moment it happened that
a ship arrived at Tumen from an opposite direction, in which
a missioner returning to Holland had taken his passage. On
hearing that his services were in urgent request, he hastened
on board the emigrant vessel, in time to baptize the child
and speed the parent on her last journey.
Some time back, M. Gromadski tells us, he went on an ex-
pedition in the month of January, about four hundred versts,*
in order to minister to the spiritual wants of some ten families,
fifty persons in all, immigrants from Poland, whom foreign
oppression and Jewish persecution had compelled to quit their
native country. Worn and wearied with a long journey and
subsequent delay, they were awaiting impatiently the return of
spring, when they might obtain the allotments they were to
cultivate. Their grief at leaving home and country was not a
little aggravated by finding themselves deprived of all religious
succor. M. Gromadski baptized the young children, adminis-
tered the Sacraments to the adults, and the next day prepared
to leave. "Weeping, they besought me," he says, "to remain
a little longer, as years might elapse before they again saw a
priest. But what could I do? I exhorted them to be stead-
fast in the faith, and persevere in the practice of Christian
virtue. Then I commended them to the mercy of God, and,
with tears in my eyes, stepped into the sledge* which was to
carry me onward, five hundred versts further, where a few
more sheep were gathered in the wilderness. No sooner had I
reached my destination and said Mass than a telegram was
placed in my hand, entreating me to hasten to the bedside of
a priest who was dying. This involved a ten hours' journey ;
I started at once, and had the consolation of giving the last
Sacraments to my fellow-laborer, who was about to enter upon
his eternal rest. He rallied somewhat, and after staying with
* A verst is nearly two-thirds of an English mile.
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532 Hardships of Catholic Exiles in Siberia. [Jan.,
him two or three days I went to visit the Catholics in some
of the villages of the district under his charge. But I was
soon recalled by the tidings of his death. His obsequies were
attended by as many of his parishioners as could possibly
come to pay their last testimony of respect and affection to a
pastor whose loss they most sincerely regretted. He was upwards
of seventy years of age, and had labored amongst them for
twenty-two years. A few months previously he had gone out
one evening to baptize a child who was dying. Blinded by a
violent snow-storm which overtook him, he lost his way and
was obliged to pass the night out of doors. He took a severe
chill, and being unwell at the time, was unable to shake ofF
its effect. Still he performed his ministerial duties with the
same exactitude, and was ready to answer every call, however
weak and ill he felt.' The last time he went out was to per-
form the burial service for a neighboring priest. After that
he was unable to leave his bed ; but not then did he relax his
efforts on behalf of his people, for he had them into his sick-
room to make their confessions and receive his counsels. The
grief they exhibited as they stood around his coffin was most
touching to witness.
During the summer of the same year, in the course of a
missionary expedition, M. Gromadski was asked by the gov-
ernor-general of the district to extend his journey for an
additional one thousand versts, for the purpose of visiting the
town of Wierny, whose Catholic inhabitants had for several
years been without the ministrations of a priest. As his com-
ing was expected, everything was in readiness ; a large room
had been fitted up and elaborately decorated to serve as a
chapel, and comfortable rooms prepared for his reception. The-
arrival of the servant of God was hailed with the utmost joy.
The people went out to meet him ; the principal families vied
with one another in pressing offers of hospitality to so wel-
come and honored a guest. Wierny, one of the finest towns
in Siberia, is of recent growth ; twenty-five years ago it was
little more than a few wretched cabins. It is situated at the
foot of the Chinese Mountains, amid wild and arid steppes of
apparently interminable extent, wearying to the eye and de-
pressing to the spirits of the traveller, broken only by sharply-
pointed rocks and occasional oases of verdure around a spring,
which afford scanty pasturage to the nomad flocks of a few
Kirghir shepherds. This town, raised, or rather founded, by the
energy of the governor, M. Kotpakowski, now presents a pic-
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turesque and pleasing aspect. The environs resemble a large
garden ; they are intersected with streams and with rows of the
tall, pyramidal poplars common to the Caucasus. Lofty, moun-
tains, clothed with perpetual snow, form the background ; al-
though really at a considerable distance, owing to a strange optical
illusion they appear quite close. The town itself boasts wide,
well-kept streets and several handsome public buildings and
official residences. The finest of the former is the gymnasium,
where one hundred Kirghir youths receive an excellent education
under the care of competent professors. The natural resources
of the country have been developed in a wonderful mariner;
skilfully constructed reservoirs of pure water enable the agricul-
turist to raise fruits which will bear comparison with the
produce of Europe, from seeds selected and brought from a
distance by the governor. Of these an exhibition is held each
year, and prizes awarded. The fertile gardens, the plantations
of oaks (imported from Europe), above all the Parisian frock-
coats and military uniforms seen in the streets, might almost
make the traveller forget that he is in Central Asia. Alas!
amidst all that the art of man has done to promote the
material prosperity of this smiling oasis, no Catholic church is
to be found; no bell summons the faithful to worship the
Giver of all good gifts, unless on exceptional occasions and at
long intervals. Yet the director of the gymnasium and almost
all his subordinates are Catholics. To them, as well as to those
Catholic residents who were able to attend, M. Gromadski gave
a retreat, closed by a general Communion of professors and
students, after which, according to the custom of the country,
mutual congratulations were exchanged by those who had ap-
proached the Holy Table. The good missioner remained at
Wierny two weeks; during this time every Catholic within
reach, who was of an age to do so, went to the Sacraments,
and listened eagerly to his sermons. At last, with sighs and
tears, they bade him farewell, for his presence was required in
other places. It will readily be understood how great an
amount of fatigue these incessant journeyings entailed on the
zealous missioner. He was too, in the course of them, fre-
quently exposed to no slight personal risk. This was eminent-
ly the case on one occasion. We will let him narrate the
adventure in his own words:
" While at Tomsk I heard that a poor woman, who resided at
about one hundred and fifty versts distance, was at the point
of death. I lost no time in obtaining a permit and ordering
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534 Hardships of Catholic Exiles in Siberia. [Jan*,
post-horses, that I might visit her. Every one sought to dis-
suade me, because during the whole day a snow-storm had been
raging, and travelling when snow is falling is dangerous work
in Siberia. Moreover I was wanted, they told me, for a funeral
that evening. ' The dead can wait,* I said ; * the dying can-
not.' The coffin was taken into the chapel and placed on the
catafalque, and I bade the mourners postpone the interment
until my return on the morrow. They stared at me as if I
had lost my senses, for they thought it impossible for any one
to venture on a journey in such inclement weather. But I
would not be deterred ; the salvation of a soul was perhaps at
stake. Therefore, in the name of God, I set forth on my way.
The sledge, drawn by three powerful horses, sped rapidly over
the frozen steppe. As I looked at the postillion in front of
me, I could not help reflecting how different were the motives
that actuated him in entering on this perilous expedition to my
own. His the love of gain, the hope of adding a few pence to
his weekly wages ; mine, the love of souls, the hope of adding
one to the number of the redeemed. Yet without his love of
gain my love of souls would have been unavailing in this
case ; thus both served to the glory of God, the furtherance of
his kingdom. My musings were soon interrupted by the jolt-
ing of the sleigh. It was thrown from side to side like a
boat at sea rocked by the billows, as we raced up the high
snow-drifts and plunged into the hollows below. After a time
the driver turned to me, and said : * Sir, we are in great dan-
ger ; every trace of the road is obliterated, and I have no idea
where we are or in what direction we are going ! ' Seeing that
he hung his head in a listless way, I called out : ' Look alive,
man — whip up your horses, that we may get on faster!* 'You
forget, sir,* he replied, 'that I have a wife and children at
home, and perhaps I shall see them no more.' I began to feel
anxious myself. Commending myself to the care of Providence,
I asked the man, 'Can the horses go on much further?* He
answered, 'Yes, they are capital beasts, and will not tire yet
awhile.' ' Do they know their way about here at all ? ' ' Oh,
yes! they came from the very place to which we are bound.
But I have never been out in weather like this; I would not
turn my dog out of doors ! * And again he hung his head
helplessly. It was indeed a fearful night. The wind was be-
hind us, yet it seemed to meet us on every side with th<e force
of a whirlwind, ^hovrtrng piteously and driving the snow in
heaps across our, path. I made the driver wrap himself up in
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iSqS-J Hardships of Catholic Exiles in Siberia. 535
a kochma, the thick sheep-skin mantle of the country, impermea-
ble to rain and wind — in fact, the only protection against a
blizzard such as we were then experiencing. ' Have you ever
lost your way in a snow-storm before?* I inquired again.
"^ Never ; but then I never was otxt on a day like this. In bad
weather I have sometimes covered myself up in the bottom of
the sledge and the horses have brought me safe to my own
<loor. But this howling wind portends evil ; it is as if hell
were let loose ! * * Do you believe in God ? ' I asked him. ' I
do.' * Then repent of your sins. Strike your breast and repeat
this prayer after me.' I recited some prayers, but they brought
no comfort to the dejected driver. I felt matters were looking
serious, and urged him to greater speed. Presently the sound
of a bell struck my ear. ' What is that ? * I exclaimed — * we
must be near a village. Faster! faster!' 'Alas! no,' the man
rejoined, * that is no bell ; it is an omen of ill — it tolls for our
death. We shall never again see the light of the sun — my poor
•children will be orphans ! * He laughed a bitter laugh, which
made me shiver* as though a demon were deriding me for my
•faith in I/rovidence. The horses began to show signs of fatigue.
We stopped under the shelter of a hill to enable them to take
breath. My companion in lugubrious accents bewailed his un-
happy fate and that of his wife and children. Listening to his
lamentations, as we again went onward, my courage gave way.
I confess that a feeling, not of despair but of deep sorrow,
-came over me. I thought of my mother and of the friends
that I should never see again, and asked myself. Must I die
here, with the snow and ice for my only shroud ; the last sound
in my ears the whistling wind ; my eyes closed by no tender
hand, but by the weight of the fast falling flakes ? Must I fall here
alone and forsaken, without absolution, without the Sacraments,
without a parting blessing or a word of farewell, to become a
prey to the wolves already hungering for my bones? A tear
fell from my eye and froze upon my cheek. Ashamed of my
momentary weakness, I bethought me of my high vocation, and
raised my heart in prayer to God.
" All of a sudden the horses stood still and refused to pro-
ceed. The driver sprang to the ground and, casting at me a
look half-reproachful, half-ferocious, as if I had bewitched them,
he drew out a short whip made of cowhide, exclaiming, * Here
ts something that will make you go on ! ' struck them heavily
with it. The animals reared and plunged, but would go no
further. He struck them again; again they reared and sprang
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536 Hardships of Catholic Exiles in Siberia. [Jan.^
forward, and I found myself hurled from a height into the
snow. The fall did me no harm. Rising to my feet, I discov-
ered that I was at the foot of a perpendicular wall of snow,,
at the top of which the horses had stopped short. Calling to-
the postillion, I found him not far off sitting on the snow, sob-
bing violently. When he saw me struggling to rejoin him, he
cried : " Spare your trouble, sir ; nothing can be of any use ;
we may as well lie down and sleep. As for me, I shall never
get up again.' Thereupon he made the sign of the cross as
if composing himself to sleep. Benumbed though I was with
the intense cold, exhausted with struggling against the icy wind
and wading through the snow, I steeled myself for a final effort.
I remonstrated, entreated, threatened, and at last induced the
man to see with me what could be done to save our lives.
We found the horses lying at the top of the ravine into-
which I had been thrown. The leader was close to the edge ;
had he fallen on me I should immediately have been crushed.
Beside them was the overturned sleigh. The harness was broken,,
the splash-board was shivered to pieces, the Swing-bar was de-
tached. At the cost of immense exertion we got the horses
onto their feet, mended the harness with rope, collected the scat-
tered contents of the sleigh. It was all I could do to keep
the driver at work. He uttered the most piteous lamentations^
declaring all our trouble was in vain, that our last hour had
struck. Now and again he sat down to rest; but I, conscious that
if once allowed to fall asleep he would never awake again^
compelled him to persevere. When at length we once more
got under way the horses appeared almost unable to move.
They, whose pace had been so swift that they could scarcely
be held in, now could only be induced by the constant use of
the whip to go forward at all. What made matters worse, the
fatal drowsiness induced by the intense frost, added to the
fatigue he had undergone, overcame my companion to such an
extent that, far from rendering me any assistance, he required
my continual attention. His eyes were fixed in a glassy stare ;
and when by shouting in his ear, shaking him, rubbing him, I
succeeded partially in rousing him from the stupor which had
fallen on him, he pushed me away, begging me to leave him to
die in peace. Then for a few moments my heart completely
failed me. Almost paralyzed by the intolerable cold, which
froze my blood in my veins, I felt I could do no more. *If I
must die thus,' I cried, ' into thy hands, O my God ! I com-
mend my spirit. In te Domino speravi, non confundar in eternum^
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At this juncture the horses began to climb the slope of a hrll
whence the force of the gale had swept the snow. As they as-
cended the hill the ringing of a bell again smote on my ear^
and hope once more revived in my heart. Breathlessly I lis-
tened ; in a few moments the soun.d was repeated. I knew it
was the custom in that part of the country to ring a bell at
intervals during a snow-storm, to serve as a guide to travellers
who had lost their bearings, and called to my companion :
' Do you not hear the bell ? ' He gave no response ; indeed his
appearance was so deathlike that I hastily opened his mantle
to ascertain whether his heart was still beating. Finding he
was quite warm, I strove, by breathing on him and chafing his
hands, to restore some amount of animation to his congested
frame; then, the sound of the bell being heard again more
distinctly, I turned the horses' heads in the direction whence
it came. In a short time we reached a village. It wanted an
hour to midnight. The storm was rapidly abating.; before long-
it gave place to a dead calm, and the stars shone out brilliantly*
By their dim light, after warming myself thoroughly and get-
ting a fresh relay of horses — for which, by the way, I had to-
pay double the usual charge — I pursued my way. It was no
longer a dangerous one. At 6 A. M. I arrived at my desti-
nation. After a short rest, I prepared to say Mass at a simple
altar which the people had. arranged as best they could for the
purpose. The poor sick woman was so transported with de-
light at hearing Mass said in her house that nothing would
content her but to be moved close to the altar, so that she
could rest her head upon it. In that attitude she remained
all the time, praying aloud and sobbing with joy.
" The temporal misery of this family touched me almost as
much as their spiritual destitution. I gave them the few roubles
I had in my pocket, a sum quite inadequate to relieve their
manifold needs, but which elicited a demonstration of gi'atitude
that quite overwhelmed me. At 8:30 A. M. I took my leave,,
and at 4:30 P. M. I got back to Omsk."
Everybody must acknowledge that such a journey as this
put the good missioner's courage and power of endurance to
a severe test. It is almost incredible that he could have
escaped serious illness as the result of exposure to such incle-
ment weather. He was not always equally fortunate in his pere-
grinations from village to village, although Providence seems
to have watched over him in a wonderful manner. He de-
scribes another visitation tour made in the province of Maryisk^
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538 Hardships of Catholic Exiles in Siberia. [Jan.,
A Siberian Post-Station,
on the frontier of Eastern Siberia. The first stage in this
journey, undertaken in December, 1889, was Mala (Little) Zyro-
wa. He did not start, he tells us, until evening, as there had
been some delay about the horses. The cold was intense,
the thermometer registering thirty degrees of frost (Reaumur) ;
the road, too, was extremely dangerous, as it was in some places
flanked by deep ravines, into which one or other of the horses
ever and anon slipped. " The poor, tired beasts,'* he writes,
^* got on with such difficulty that I feared every moment that
one of them would fall and be unable to rise again, in which
case we should have been compelled to spend the night in the
open air — an experience by no means desirable. At length we
reached the first post-house. Nearly half the distance was now
covered ; yet, fatigued though I was with the jolting of the
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sledge, I would not stop longer than was necessary to change
horses ; we then pushed on for another two houra. This brought
me to the n©xt station, where I halted awhile to visit a par-
ishioner and refresh myself with a cup of hot tea. Skawinski
and his wife . are excellent people and very good Catholics.
They get their living by keeping a little shop, but their busi-
ness is not flourishing. In the hope of assisting them, I lent
them fifty roubles and stood surety for goods to the amount
of two hundred roubles. God grant they may not fail to re-
pay me, or I shall get into sore straits ! At S A. M. I arrived
at my destination, Mala (Little) Zyrowa, and laid down to
rest for a couple of hours. At 7 I rose and said Mass, after
reciting morning prayers and catechising the people as the
Provincial Synod directs.
" My entertainers in this place are a well-to-do family, exiled
from Poland some twenty-five years since. They have a beau-
tiful house, one room in which is set apart to serve as a chapel
whenever I go there to say Mass. In this hospitable and truly
Christian household a priest always meets with a cordial wel-
come. The father is dead, but his widow and sons manage the
farm in the vicinity whence they derive their means of support."
After passing a few days with this estimable family, M.
Gromadski proceeded to another village fifty versts distant.
There he was domiciled under the roof of a farmer and hunts-
man, whose house consisted of only two rooms, one of which
was placed at the priest's disposal. It was clean, and that is
all that can be said. about its comforts. The window, instead
of being double, as is usual in those glacial climes, was single,
and not even of glass, for the panes were only paper. This
afforded poor protection against the icy blast. Moreover, the
room was warmed with a tin stove ; consequently the tempera-
ture suddenly rose to 40° Reaumur, causing the face to glow
with heat, while the lower limbs were benumbed with cold.
And when all had retired for the night and the fire went out,
the unfortunate missioner could not sleep, for the cold struck
to his very bones. As might be expected, after occupying such
a room on a Siberian winter's night, he had an illness from
which he did not recover for two months or more.
This village of Kuskowa, in which such miserable accommo-
dation was provided for the priest, is situated on the banks of
the Tchulim, on the further side of which are the encamp-
ments of the Ostyaks and Tunguses. These tribes are both of
Mongol race, but they do not intermarry, and indeed have
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S40 Hardships of Catholic Exiles in Siberia. [Jan.,
little in common. They are both heathen, and enslaved by
fetich-worship, although among the Ostyaks are a considera-
te
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<
s
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ble number of (nominally) orthodox Christians. Amongst the
Tunguses not one is to be found, yet they are more advanced
in civilization than their neighbors. In addition to their national
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costume, they habitually wear shoes and handsome cloaks;
some have watches, and when they frequent the towns and vil-
lages in the vicinity they appear in European attire. Still they
tattoo their faces and limbs, a fashion the Ostyaks do not fol-
low. Hunting and fishing is the principal occupation of both
Tunguses and Ostyaks. The former have herds of tame deer
which they take about with them on their wanderings, and of
which they make use for the transport of their baggage ; the
latter employ dogs for this purpose. One thing, at least, charac-
terizes both tribes : the passion for intoxicating drink.
Not to the foreign merchant alone is this deplorable degra-
dation of the people. due. Their own popes supply them with
drink ; they drive a brisk trade, and sometimes make large for-
tunes by the sale of intoxicating liquors. Their ecclesiastical
status protects them from prosecution on the pirt of the gov-
ernment, and they do not fail to turn this immunity to good
account. At Maximinkin, where there is an Ostyak colony, the
pope displays business capacities that many a tradesman might
well envy. He frequently goes to give a mission to the Ost-
yaks, and disposes of his merchandise at an enormous profit.
When sufficiently recovered to proceed, the zealous pastor
whose steps we are following continued his route along the
banks of the Tchulim, halting at the various villages to ad-
minister the Sacraments to his scattered parishioners and con-
firm them in the faith. The reader will not be surprised to
learn that before the conclusion of his visitation tour he was
again prostrated by sickness, for it is not in mortal man to
bear with impunity a succession of such hardships as those to
ivhich he was exposed. Attacked by fever of so serious a na-
ture that he felt it necessary to make preparation for death,
his one desire was to return forthwith to Tomsk.
It is well that his wish was not complied with, as he would
infallibly have succumbed on the way. As it was, complete
rest for a few days in the cottage of a kind-hearted peasant en-
abled him to regain his health sufficiently to , complete his
round, although constant giddiness and frequent returns of the
fever rendered the performance of his ministerial functions no
easy task. He persevered though, and fulfilled every duty,
without sparing himself, with scrupulous exactitude — quod for-
mam. prcBScriptam, as he expresses it.
Before Easter he had regained his own fireside at Tomsk.
Writing on the 26th of. April, he observes that the themometer
then showed 10^ of frost (Reaumur). Yet he was already plan-
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542 Hardships of Catholic Exiles in Siberia. [Jan.,
ning another expedition, which was to take him to the frontier
of the Chinese Empire. We must not omit to say that a lady
residing in Vienna presented M. Gromadski with a portable
altar, which could be erected wherever a room could be ob-
tained for Mass. He highly appreciated this most useful gift^
and speaks with much gratitude of the donor.
Although, when glancing at the letters of this indefatigable
clergyman, he appears in the light rather of an itinerant mis-
sionary than of a parish priest, yet it is evident that amid his
almost incessant expeditions, which one would have imagined
would have worn out any but an iron frame, his thoughts con-
stantly revert to his church and parish at Tomsk. It is there
that his interest centres, and, in spite of distractions, his affec-
tions and solicitude are concentrated. He tells us the following
details concerning the mission :
"The mission of Tomsk dates from the commencement of
the present century. It was in 1806 that the authorization of
the czar to found it was obtained. The only other place to
which the same favor was conceded throughout the whole of West-
ern and Eastern Siberia being Irkutsk. Two Jesuit fathers
took up their residence at Tomsk, and remained there until
1820, when the members of the Society of Jesus were expelled
from Russia. The mission then passed into the hands of the
Franciscans, two of whom were placed in charge of the im-
mense extent of territory included in the mission. On the re-
tirement of the head priest, in 1833, his fellow-laborer resolved
upon the erection of a church. Until that time Mass had beea
said in a private house, for lack of funds to build a separate
structure for divine worship. The plan of procedure adopted
by the zealous monk. Father R6my by name, was as novel as
it was successful.
"The Catholic population of Tomsk at that time consisted
almost exclusively of Polish exiles. These were of two classes,,
those who were banished from Western Siberia, and those who,,
their term of penal servitude having expired, had been allowed
to settle as colonists in the various villages of the vicinity.
Both of these classes were in great destitution, and utterly un-
able to furnish pecuniary assistance to their pastor. But they
were desirous to possess a church, and, inspired by his zeal and
energy, they offered him the only gift at their disposal, the
labor of their hands. The volunteer bricklayers, masons, and
carpenters set to work with a good will, but so great was their
poverty that Father R^my, who constituted himself superinten-
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dent of the works, was compelled to provide his workmen with
the necessaries of life in lieu of wages. In order to procure
what was needed, he expended a small sum that he had raised
in the purchase of a rough cart and a pair of ponies. With
these he scoured the country round in quest of contributions
in kind. In his character of mendicant friar he knocked at
every door asking an alms * in Christ's name/ and seldom did
he meet with a refusal. Every one gave what he could, were
it only a loaf of bread, a handful of flour, a threadbare gar-
ment, a bundle of hay for the horses. When his cart was filled
Father R^my returned to Tomsk ; and as long as his stores
lasted he took part in the toil of his parishioners, mixing mor-
tar, making bricks with his own hands. When the larder was
empty, the works were stopped, the men went to their homes
until a fresh stock of provisions had been collected by another
excursion into the country. Thus, thanks to Father R^my's
untiring vigor, to the industry of the workmen, the liberality
with which his appeal for help was responded, to, within the
comparatively short space of little more than twelve months
a substantial structure of brick was raised. Several members
of the (so-called) Orthodox Church contributed to the good
work, heedless of any differences of belief. Shortly after the
church was finished Father R6my began to build a presbytery,
but before the walls were many inches from the ground the
work was arrested, because he was recalled to the convent
whence he came at Mohileft, on the Dnieper. His health had
entirely broken down as the result of his arduous exertions.
He was succeeded by a Dominican father, who did much to
beautify the newly-erected church. It is dedicated to Our Lady
of the Rosary, and contains three altars, besides several fine
paintings, the gift of various benefactors. It is of a size to
accommodate between two and three hundred persons, and at
the period of its erection was more than large enough to meet
the needs of the worshippers. Since then the Catholic popula-
tion has increased to fifteen hundred. This augmentation of
numbers renders the building quite inadequate to contain all
who are able to attend the services, and many have to stand
outside to hear Mass. In winter-time this is impracticable ; thus
not a few are compelled to return home without having fulfilled
their obligation."
M. Gromadski is naturally most desirous to enlarge his
church, which has recently been under repair, the supports of
the ceiled roof having been found to be unsound and liable at
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S44 Hardships of Catholic Exiles in Siberia. [Jan.,
any moment to give way under its weight. His exchequer is,
however, chronically at a very low ebb ; in fact, he is sadly
hampered by lack of funds in all the works of mercy he has
undertaken or is hoping to inaugurate. ** Our cemetery," he
writes, "presents a very desolate aspect, for it has never been
enclosed. For some time past we have been collecting money
to build a wall, or at least erect a wooden fence, around it, for
is it not one of the first duties of the Christian to care for the
dead and preserve their last resting-place from profanation?
But Bitherto contributions have flowed in so slowly that we
have not felt justified in commencing the enclosure, which
would, if of brick, cost about two thousand roubles ; if of wood,
about half that sum. A curious monument in cast-iron testifies
to the relative antiquity of the cemetery. It is dated 1794, and
bears an inscription, in French, to the memory of one of the
emigres at the time of the French Revolution, who took mili-
tary service in Russia, and was made commandant of Tomsk."
" During the last few years," he writes somewhat later,
'^ Siberia has been undergoing a process of transformation. It
is already a different country to what it was ; it seems awaken-
ing from a long lethargy — ^awakening to material activity and
intpliectual life. The pioneers of commerce have found their
way across the dreary steppes, and, as I have said before,
measures are being taken to facilitate intercommunication with
Europe. Besides the construction of high-roads, a line of
railway is in contemplation which will unite Tomsk with
the Pacific Ocean. An intellectual movement is also astir
in Siberia. Besides the excellent gymnasium and other good
public schools, a university has recently been founded in Tomsk.
It was inaugurated for the benefit of medical students, but the
staff of professors is steadily increasing, and each year some
fresh branch of study is added to the curriculum. A boarding-
house for the students, in connection with the university, has
been established, under the control of the curator of public
instruction for the province and three delegates, appointed by
the municipal council. These are all men of good standing
and high culture. Out of the boys who attend the public
schools at least one in ten is a Catholic. Application was
early made to the authorities to appoint a fixed time for the re*
ligious instruction of these scholars ; for a long time no defi.nite
answer was given. At last, after the institution of a local
board of education, the curator, deeming the position of
Catholic children in the schools an abnormal one, judged it
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1 898 J Hardships of Catholic Exiles in Siberia. 545
advisable to appoint a professor to give the religious instruction,
and desired the local clergy to chose a priest to undertake the
office. This was accordingly done.
"My principal work at this time is to open an elementary
Siberian Village, with *• Orthodox" Church.
school, in close proximity to the church, for young children,
and to found a home for old and infirm men. The want of an
asylum for the sick and aged is sorely felt. The hospitals in
the towns only grant free admission to paupers belonging to the
town. If any one is sent in from an adjacent village, the com-
mune of that village has to furnish a monthly sum for his
maintenance. To avoid this expense to the inhabitants, each
householder takes charge of the sick man in his turn. Every
morning they carry him to a fresh house, to be transferred on
the morrow to a neighbor's care. During my last expedition
into the interior, I was called in to administer the last Sacraments
to a man who was paralyzed, and who was nursed after this
system. The poor fellow suffered so much from the incessant
removals, never sleeping two successive nights under the same
roof, that I begged the man in whose house he then was to
keep him, in consideration of a small remuneration, until he
was removed to his eternal home. I said this would not be
VOL. Lxvi. — 35
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546 Hardships of Catholic Exiles in Siberia. [Jan.,
long, and I was not mistaken ; he died within a fortnight after
I saw him."
It is not in winter-time only that the zealous missioner
from whose letters we are quoting pursues his journeys from
place to place. The spiritual needs of his scattered flock com-
pel him at all seasons to leave the comforts of home on their
behalf, and he finds travelling in the spring and summer
attended with perils as great, if not greater, than those which
have to be encountered when nature has spread her white
mantle over hill and plain.
" I have just returned," he writes, " from an expedition
lasting two weeks. I had to travel eight hundred versts in a
carriage over roads the state. of which was indescribable. The
wheels were up to the axles in mud, and after being jolted, or
rather tossed about, for six or seven hours at a stretoh, I felt
almost broken to pieces. This journey was not devoid of
danger too, for the rivers that take their rise in the Altai
Mountains were so swollen with the melted snow that they
formed impetuous torrents and were almost impassable. Death
by drowning is of frequent occurrence ; I was myself, in one
day, eye-witness of two siich fatalities. Two men who at-
tempted to cross the Kiya were carried down the stream and
lost. It was impossible to render them any assistance. A
little further on, or about ten versts distance, we came to a,
river which is generally so low that it can be forded on foot.
It had overflowed its banks, and so strong was the current that
a rider who tried to swim his horse across was at once engulfed
in the eddying waters and drowned. The peasants take these
casualties as a matter of course. Their fatalistic ideas impart
to them a singular indifference to death in general. When
I spoke to them of the sad end of these unfortunate men,
hurried into a watery grave, snatched by the relentless hand
of Death from all their earthly hopes and projects, summoned
to appear before their Judge without a moment's preparation,
they were quite unmoved, and, fixing on me a stony stare,
merely remarked : ' That was how they were to die.' In some
villages a strange superstition exists in regard to those who die
by drowning. If their bodies are recovered and buried, it is
said that a period of drought is sure to supervene; in which
case the graves are drenched with water, as a means of pro-
curing rain."
We will give one more extract from M. Gromadski's letters
of more recent date :
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" No sooner had I returned from my last excursion," he
writes in March, 1893, " thah I had again to go a distance of
two hundred versts in order to bury one of my parishioners,
who had been assassinated for the sake of robbery. This is
the fourth murder that has been committed in this district
during the last twelve months in view of gain. The man
leaves a wife and two children. The latter are two fresh candi-
dates for my new orphanage, which is in progress of building.
Heaven only knows how I am to find funds to complete the
work! There will be no lack of inniates; already several
children are anxiously awaiting admission.
" I am now engaged in negotiations with the government irt
regard to obtaining permission to erect rooms for divine wor*-
ship in the localities where Catholics are most numerous, and
where, owing to the poverty of the people, they are unable to
provide me with lodging for myself, or a room of sufficient
size for the celebration of Mass. Some provision of this kind
is urgently needed. A hundred persons and more are closely
crowded into a room of such narrow dimensions that the air
becomes so vitiated that the candles will not burn, and the
women and children faint ; whilst those who are obliged to
remain standing outside, being unable to squeeze into the
over-fiUed apartment, are exposed to frost-bite and other
injuries from the cold. Nor is this the only danger. One day
when I was saying Mass at Maryisk an ominous cracking
warned us that the timbers of the floor were giving way. The
assembly hastily dispersed, and thus a terrible catastrophe was
averted. The falling-in of the floor would assuredly have
caused the death of the proprietress and her children, who were
in the room below.
'^ I have said enough to show what difficulties the priest
in Siberia has to contend with. My projects for promoting the
spiritual and temporal welfare of the unhappy exiles under my
charge must, since the government will do nothing to assist
our poverty, remain pia desideria^ the fulfilment of which is
relegated ad feliciora tempora ; unless God of his mercy puts it
into the mind of some charitable fellow-Christian to aid me in
the good work that \ have so much at heart."
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548 Pledges made a t Bonhomme. [Jan^
PLEDGES MADE AT BONHOMME.
BY SALLIE MARGARET O'MALLEY.
HE wind came up the Long Ravine with a cry
like that of a tortured child.
To the left stood the ridge, on which were
builded the dwellings of three neighboring
farmers. To the right was the desolate, wintry
knob known as Coal Hill. But when winter was past it was
not desolate, for the prairie grass shot green points through
the masses of dead rubbish laced over with sensitive vine, and
made the hill an emerald dome against the blue sky. Tucked
in this verdure, the wild strawberry ripened and the partridge
gathered her brown brood about her, secure from harm.
Between the hill and the ridge circled the ravine, from its
source, the white sulphur spring on the ridge, to its emptying
into the deep-water creek, ten miles away. Year after year,
aided by heavy rains and small land-slides, the ravine widened
until it was necessary to build a bridge where the Fort Scott
road crossed it. Over this road the farmers trundled leisurely
three times a year for their household and farm supplies.
In summer the neighbors were very social, and given to
spending the Sundays over well-cooked dinners, while they dis-
cussed the crops or the affairs of the little settlement, all in a
kindly way and without malice. But when the autumn rains
set in visiting ceased, save in sickness. After the rains the
frosts came; grass shrivelled, days grew dark, and clouds shut
down, gray and smooth from horizon to horizon, while the
wind hummed like a swarm of angry bees. After the frosts
the snow came from the four corners, falling, sifting, or soaring
aloft in the fearful gales.
Then each family became isolated. Even the stables could
not be seen from the houses, and the cattle, with lowered heads
and close-laid tails, surged in about the great stacks of prairie
hay ; the weaker ones were crowded out into the exposed places,
and bellowed forlornly when the wind lashed them as it swept by
on its way down the great channel made by the Long Ravine.
There were mornings when the snow-drifts were above the
window-ledges, when the panes were silvery with frost brocades,
when the pumps were frozen, the young calves dead, and the
snow-birds begging at the door. Then the cows failed in their
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milky the bread-stuff was husbanded, and the farmers consulted
their almanacs for signs of spring.
But a year came when the grass made fine grazing as late
as November the fifteenth. In the gardens the scattered seeds
of lettuce and spinach made a brave show of tender leaves,
and the neighbors spoke hopefully of their great stores of hay,
their racks of fodder, and the fear of the wheat jointing before
the black frost came.
A mission was being prolonged in the little stone chapel on
the Harnesse prairie, ten miles away, and in the fine bright nights
the ridge folks filled their wagons with straw and jolted over the
uneven road that crossed the rocky ford at Deepwater, and
added their voices to the murmurous responses in the little chapel.
But one rare night along the north-western horizon was a
strip of cloud.
"What do you think of that?" shouted Dupr^, turning his
face over his shoulder.
" Rain," called back Fave from the rear wagon. " Good-
by to our fine weather ! **
It was that night that Dupr6, worried by a rattling window,
got up to put a splinter between the casements, and heard a
low, sobbing cry, far away. He opened the door — soft sighings
and silent tremblings were everywhere. Then full and near,
above and all about him, broke the long, high cry of the wind
in its first burst of fury.
As it died away a few heavy drops of rain fell in Dupr^'s
upturned face. He sprang back shivering, and then looked
out again, toward the other ridge houses.
No light at Fave's, but further on, at Ternier's, was a fitful
gleam.
" Poor thing, poor thing ! " murmured Dupr^. " She'll be
sure to go, now."
He closed the door and locked it carefully. In the morn-
ing the water was racing, bubble-flecked, along all the flooded
paths, and its roaring pour down the .channel of the ravine
could be heard above the wind.
*' Wife," said Dupr6, as night closed in early because of
the gloom, " I feel like I orto ride over to Ternier's. They're
saying now that Alzey can't live long, and it must be extra
lonesome for them, on account of this storm."
" Do," said Mrs. Dupr^ briefly. ** If I can do anything, tell
*em to send me word."
It was as dark as night could be when Dupr^ rode into the
stable-yard and put his horse under the shed. There was a
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550 Pledges made at Bonhomme. [Jan.,
subdued moving about when he knocked, and the door opened
cautiously.
"Come in," said Mrs. Ternier, in quiet welcome. "Alzey's
fell asleep."
" The fire's comfortable," said Dupr^, as he warmed before
the deep fire-place. "And how is Alzey?"
"She's better — better," answered her father. "The doctor
says she maybe'll pull through yet."
He took the poker and sent a shower of sparks scuttling
up the chimney. He nodded his head and said mysteriously,
"She's heard from AjVw."
" What ? " whispered Dupr6 in surprise.
" 1 knew something out o' the usual was a-goin* to happen,*^
croaked old grandma from her corner. "I dreamt I see a
fire a-ragin* and destroyin' our buildin's, and says I to son,
says I, 'We're a-goin' to have sudden news?*" She swung in
her chair, then added, " Tell me there haint nothin' in dreams ! "
"What did he say?" asked Duprd subduedly. Ternier
clasped his grizzled beard in one hand and was silent, saving a
negative shake of the head.
" I reckon, though, if he's written at all, he's willin' to
make up with her?" urged Dupr6.
" Yes ; I can say that, I reckon," answered the old man
sadly. " He sent her a bit of money an* said he was on the
road a-comin'. God willin', I reckon her troubles are over.'*
He wagged his beard, and murmured to himself:
" We don't build on what he says, much."
" She was just a-grievin' herself to death," said her grand-
mother.
" It's just as I've said fifty times : hasty marriages means
trouble to them as undertakes 'em. When Alzey went to Bon
homme visitin', I wasn't willin'. I said to mother, 'Alzey's
better off here. She'll come home full o' notions and dissatis-
fied.' But she went, and it wasn't long after when we got a
letter a-beggin' us to forgive her, that she'd married Frank
Latour. A case of love at sight, you know."
" I remember Mrs. Ternier speaking to my wife when it
happened," Dupr<^ said, for Ternier had paused to study out
some troublesome thoughts.
" Yes ; it was what mother an' me thought was right and
just to send her a letter to say we hoped she'd be happy, an'
for her and him to visit us some day. It was no great while
when we got a letter, all blistered-like with tears, and she
wrote she'd always expected to come home to live, that Frank
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didn't have any trade, and that he thought he'd like to try
farmin' out here/* Ternier nodded at Dupr^. " That was the
trouble, an* she saw it. He married her, thinkin' he'd step
right into a home."
Ternier paused to listen to the wind, which was beginning its
breathings of discontent.
" I don't like that sound," he said solemnly. " It worries
Alzey too." He rested his head in his hands, and finally said :
"As I was sayin*, I wrote to her again an* told her her hus-
band must make his own home ; and we didn't hear another
word until last spring, when I had a letter to meet her at
Levean's station. You know all the rest. I guess they quar-
relied, for she said Frank had sent her home. She haint told
nothin', nor complained, but she's got weaker and weaker, and
when her baby died, why she just all "^ — he spread out his
hands as if words failed him.
Dupr^ said, sympathetically, " Young folks nowadays haint
like young folks was when we was young."
" Her doctor's bill has run up over two hundred dollars, and
her a-gettin' no better fast. Now he writes, and — why she cried
and laughed an' went asleep, sweet as a child, with the letter
in her hands."
There came a silence in the room, save for Alzey's regular
breathing. Suddenly Dupr^ turned his ear toward the door.
" Listen,*' whispered Dupr^. " Hear that ! "
" Stir the fire,** advised grandma. •' How cold it*s growin'."
" I don't like them short jerks an* them cries in the wind,*'
she went on. " I shouldn't be surprised to find it snowin* in
the mornin*.**
" Well," said Dupr^, as he struggled into his heavy over-
coat, " T b*lieve 1*11 go htome. It's kind of lonesome there for
mother and the girls. I guess you won*t need any one to-night !
I'll come around to-morrer, and the old woman says if there's
anything she can do, let her know.**
" Stay ; we're glad to have you," urged Ternier.
But Dupr^ rode away with the blast tearing at him, think-
ing of Alzey's troubles, and wondering if his own little girl
would ever slip out of home guidance, and if he should be
watching by her some night, praying for her to live ! Suddenly
he reined in his horse and stared at the ground. All unseen
by him, a soft, white veil was being woven over the dark earth.
Unheard, as the wind grew colder, the flying fleece settled its
fantastic patterns on the ground. Dupr6 looked about the sky ;
faintly but surely showed the Northern Lights, He shook his
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552 Pledges made at Bonhomme. [Jan.,
head. His heart was heavy because of three cows that were
out among the stacks with young calves. Though dark in the
stable, he pulled down some extra hay from the lofts, and,
searching out the young calves, he carried them into an empty
stall and drove their mothers to them.
He stood to hear the sociable stir and feeding in the stalls
of his horses.
"All safe but you, poor fellows!" he muttered, as he heard
the hogs screaming in their pens in the outlying stock-field.
Then he entered the house.
" Terniers have hopes of Alzey. She's picked up, havin* heard
from her husband, and she's expectin* him to come out here."
Mrs. Dupr6 held up her hands in surprise.
" It is the unlooked-for that happens," she remarked briefly.
" Winter is here at last," said Dupr^ solemnly. " Snow is
falling."
They looked out and the snow crystals swept up and clung
to their cheeks and hair. The light at Ternier's was no longer
visible.
The next morning the peach-tree tops were swaying to the
ground, each branch and twig wrapped in fold on fold of snow.
The rail fences were outlines of white, and on the cattle's backs
and along the ridges between their horns soft, melting snow
clung in flakes, in crystals and tiny icicles, Dupr^ felt as if re-
moved from all humanity, for, when he was at the stacks pull-
ing hay for his shivering cattle, he could not see his house nor
barn ; nor all along the ridge was anything visible but snow —
whirling, driving, obscuring in the shifting wind.
" No going anywhere to-day," he said, as he seated himself
at the breakfast table.
" Nor to-morrow, nor for many a <fay," answered his wife.
Dupr^ looked about him, at the rosy faces of his children,
at the plain but healthy provision, and the glow of the fire's
warmth was reflected in his face.
" Thank God that we're all together and well, and without
any great care ! " he said solemnly.
Mrs. Dupr6 crossed herself and smiled. " Amen to that ! "
she said.
Over at Ternier's the snow gave uneasiness. " I don't know
just what to think about his comin'," said Ternier. ** He may
have meant what he said, and he may not ; but if he comes
out from town now, why — " He had a way of never wording
a calamity.
" I had sich dreams last night," quavered his mother.
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"Dreamin' of weddin's an' seein' people feastin* at loaded
tables. I haint never dreamt that dream without hearin' lof
sickness or death,"
" It's the snow that's troublin' me," answered her son testily.
*' Is it snowing hard, father?" asked a clear, weak voice from
the great bed in the corner.
"Why — er — no; not so partic'ler hard, daughter," he an-
swered with assumed cheerfulness. " But I reckon it will get
at it, as usual, after awhile. Season's gettin' along now, an'
we need cold weather, so as to kill our hogs."
" Would you mind drawing my bed over by the window ? I
want to look out towards the gate."
" Er— ^I — yes ; I reckon I can, daughter. But you can't see
the gate."
'* Then it is snowing hard," she sighed.
She was moved, and, propped up by the square feather pil-
lows, she watched the storm outside, thinking, as they knew,
of her husband and the little grave out on the ridge. That
night the drifts came, and from window to window ran the
heavy bank that shut the view from the eager eyes.
" Do you think he will come to-day ? " she asked her mother.
The mother smoothed the sick girl's hair and said, sooth-
ingly : " He would hardly leave town in such a storm."
It was the third day of the storm, at two o'clock, and already
sufficiently gloomy to need a huge fire to lighten the room.
" But he would if he loved me," persisted the sick girl.
But her mother remained silent, with her hands clasping
Alzey's trembling fingers.
** You're not set against Frank, are you, mother ? "
Mrs. Ternier shook her head and smiled, but her eyes
looked troubled.
"It wasn't all his fault," Alzey said eagerly — "I can see
now. When I read pa's letter to him he said, ' I don't know
what I can do.' Just that day I'd heard his mother telling him
he'd better take his wife and start out to make a living."
" There, there ! " murmured Mrs. Ternier as Alzey pressed
her thin hands against her breast.
" I must tell, so you'll know he's not so mean. I felt an-
gry and disappointed, mother, and I said, cross as could be,
* Did you think my folks would support you if you married
me?' He looked at me, mother, queer-like, and answered,
' You know I didn't, Alzey. I just didn't think at all, until
we were married. Thinkin' came after.* That hurt me again,
and I cried out, ' I guess you're tired of me. If you are not,
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554 Pledges made at Bonhomme. [Jan.,
I am of you ! * He got up then, mother, and said, ' Stop right
there, Alzey ! ' I don't remember all I said, but I know he
left that night, and in the morning Sam Wood, the postmaster,
brought me a little sealed note, with thirty dollars in it and
just these words written, ' Go home, at once/ "
Alzey paused again and looked out at the snow.
"When baby was born I thought I must write to him, and
even then my pride would only let me tell him that he had a
little son, and, dear mother, his letter that came last week is
so kind and loving and full of hope. Just think! He's been
to the mines and out at sea — poor Frank ! and my letter just
reached him about six weeks ago. He's coming back to me,
and he says ' Death will be all that can separate us.' "
"You never talked about how it happened, and I never
asked," said Mrs. Ternier.
" But you will like him, when he comes ? "
"Of course," agreed the mother. " Besides, we have no son.'*
" I wish he would come," fretted Alzey.
After a long silence Mrs. Ternier said : " See how the wind
drives the snow ! It would be a terrible thing to be lost on
the prairies now."
" Oh, if he starts ! " cried Alzey with a gasp. " I had not
thought of that. He does not know the way either." She shut
her eyes and groaned.
"Shall I give you your beads?" Mrs. Ternier slipped a
rosary between the nervous fingers. " Did you not say, yester-
day, that prayers had restored his love ? Why not pray for
him to be given to you in health, if it be God's will?"
They were simple, pious folk who scarcely expected mira-
cles, yet sincerely believed in God's promises.
The girl began with the cross, reciting almost audibly,
"O Thou, who hast redeemed me, have mercy upon me!
Incline unto my aid, O Lord ! "
As the afternoon closed she put the beads aside and looked
out at the gloomy skies.
"Isn't there some one knocking' at the door?" she cried
once ; but there was no one — nothing save the gust that gripped
the oak panels and howled at the window.
"He won't come," she said, smiling sadly. "He won't
leave town."
" If he is wise," answered Mrs. Ternier.
"Do you think he will come?" Alzey appealed to her father.
" I think not," answered Ternier cautiously. " There haint
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a driver would try to cross the prairies to-night, or in such
weather. Fave says the stage didn't come up yesterday, and
I reckon the storm's worse down that way than here."
Alzey looked about the cheerful room. ** I wish I could
feel he was safe before the night grows darker."
She closed her eyes, and after awhile her mother cautioned
Ternier to move about with less noise. " Let her sleep all she
can ; she will be worryin* an' worryin' if she's awake."
" If anything happens to him," whispered Ternier, " we
might as well make up our minds to it — Alzey'll die."
Just then the door opened and Dupr^'s face appeared with
a swirl of snow about his cap and whiskers. His eyes sought
the . bed ; then he came in as quietly as the scrunching snow
would allow him. Following him came another figure in furred
coat, frosted and clumsy.
" Who do you think this is ? " whispered Dupr6 excitedly.
"It's Frank Latour. He left Levean's afoot this morning at
five o'clock. Just think of that ! There's not a man in Levean
would undertake that trip now. Yet he's alive and thawed
out, for I made him take a cup of coffee and a tumbler of hot
whisky. If he'd a-missed our house " — Dupr^ shook his head
solemnly.
Ternier came forward hastily. "Thank God! " he cried fer-
vently. "Thank God!"
There was a low cry from the bed and a frail figure struggled
to rise, but with a groan the man ran to her and caught her
to his breast, and brokenly and in tears they renewed the vows
made so sacredly at Bonhomme.
After a time, when he was unwrapped and warm, with his
arm about Alzey, and her fair cheek against his own, he asked
stammeringly :
"And the little boy — is he like me? Since the little word
you sent me of his birth I have been working and striving to
make myself worthy of him and of you."
Alzey was shivering and did not speak.
"Where is he?" asked the young father, rising. "Let me
see him."
" Not here, nor in this world," answered Mrs. Ternier sol-
emnly. " He is dead ! "
Then night closed in, and up the long ravine the wind came
with cries and clutchings, and it carried the young father's call
of anguish to the lonely little snow-covered grave, and moaned
with the mother her prayers and sighs of repentance.
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and letters of one or other of the five, and from every other
source from which information could be obtained. We pass
over the chapters which precede Blessed Rudolf's arrival at
Fatehpur — Sikri — though they are very interesting, particularly
the first, which speaks of his childhood* and early life, and the
holiness which invested him as a robe, and shall take as a
specimen of the value of the book the seventh chapter, which
bears the title "At the Court of the Great Mogul/' At that
time important commercial stations had been established by
the Portuguese at Goa and other places on the Indian Ocean.
In September, 1579, Goa was roused to the highest excitement
by the arrival of an embassy from Akbar with letters to the
viceroy, to the archbishop, and to the provincial of the Jesuits.
It was natural that the Portuguese would indulge in great
hopes in consequence of this token of confidence on the part
of Akbar. He was the most illustrious of the descendants of
Gengiz Khan and of Tamerlane, and a great conqueror him-
self. He had subdued Afghanistan, the Punjab, North-western,
Western, and Central India, Behar and Bengal. He could be
a formidable foe or a valuable friend to the Portuguese at this
time, when their settlements were not firmly rooted and when
intrigues by Spain and her tributary states in Italy, by Venice
and by Genoa, and by France and England, possibly might be
successfully fomented against them. The two last-named
powers might be supposed to favor the rival of Spain and that
this influence would not be thrown into the scale against her.
This would be probably correct with regard to European
policy, but the schemes of Spain and Portugal for colonization
♦ Dublin : Gill & Co.
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1898.] Talk ABOUT New Books. 557
in Africa and the East were so distasteful to both of then),
based as they were on a claim to exclusive jurisdiction on those
continents pretended to be derived from the Pope, that France
and England might well suppose their interest would be ad-
vanced, as. their national pride would be gratified, by using one
power to undermine the work of the other. One word more
may be added : the common notion, that England had not
dreamt of a colonial and commercial empire in the East until
the charter was granted to the East India Company, is not
altogether correct. The genuine student of English history
will find the idea was not foreign to the astute and daring
mind of Richard III. and that the cautious Henry VII. favored
it, but the attention of his immediate successors was turned to
the more accessible continent of America.
The importance of the embassy from Akbar to their inter-
ests may be judged from the fear entertained by the Portu-
guese that he was only waiting for an opportunity to lay
claim to Damaun, which their viceroy, Don Constantine de
Braganza, had taken some twenty or twenty-one years before.
Akbar possessed in a high degree the craft of the Orient and
its tenacity in maintaining pretensions, whether well or ill-
founded. But his great military qualities and a certain large-
ness of mind caused him to act with a frankness uncommon
in the East. While his star was in the ascendant he would
prefer the agencies of trust and confidence to the use of dis-
simulation and treachery. A similar play of qualities must be
deemed the key to the character of Mithridates. His Roman
enemies have portrayed in the darkest color a man who had
virtues admired in their own Stoics. In the letter to the pro-
vincial, Akbar requested him to send two learned fathers, and
the books of the Law, especially the Gospel. He desired, he
said, to know " the Law and its excellency."
If we can get at the purposes of this man at all, it is only
by carefully weighing his behavior towards the missionaries,
the Mohammedans, and the Hindoos. He seemed impressed
to an extraordinary degree by the purity and piety of the
Jesuits, he seemed to revolt from the teachings of the Koran,
exemplified as they were in the lives of the Moslem doctors. He
was perplexed by the high ideals and degrading superstitions
of the Hindoos, and at the same time, while his judgment
condemned the cruelty proceeding from certain rites, he was
awed by their antiquity. Our author concludes that he. had no
intention to become a Christian. The idea he had formed
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558 Talk about New Books. [Jan.,
was to found an eclectic religion compounded from doctrines
and practices of all three, and that he himself should be the
prophet or the god of the new creed. Father Goldie holds he
had the temper of mind of an agnostic or rationalist ; our
opinion is that his was the kind of mind we find in Archbishop
Ussher and the eclectic Protestants that gathered round him,
the quality of mind from which, in the last analysis. Protestant-
ism of any kind is found to be the product. One thing fol-
lowed from this mental attitude, the principle of religious
toleration, which appears to have been put in practice in his
dominions very much as it now prevails in British India ; that
is to say, indifiference to religion as the outer form of a par-
ticular belief, but toleration of it as* an instrument of police,
expresses the policy of Akbar. He had the same difficulty
with the law and rite of suttee that the English experienced
in the early days of their Indian Empire ; he had other diffi-
culties from which their more thorough rule, combined with
the Western ascendency of intellect, enabled them to eman-
cipate themselves. For instance, a claim — inferred from tolera-
tion of Moslemism — ^was put forward that the Mohammedans
were entitled \\.o kill Christians generally, but especially the
converts from Moslemism. If they could not do this, they did
not enjoy religious liberty. This Irish-Orangeman mode of
interpreting that policy had been actually resorted to in the
Portuguese possessions, when his Mohammedan subjects heard
that Don Sebastian had declared their religion was to enjoy
full toleration. They at once proceeded to murder the Chris-
tians and burn their churches and villages.
Blessed Rudolf fell into a natural mistake concerning the
disposition of Akbar to receive the Christian religion. He
was received with such distinction — a large escort having been
sent to meet him — the monarch on his presentation surrounded
by twenty vassal kings, the present of the Holy Scriptures ac-
cepted with the deepest reverence, the king putting each
volume on his head — all combined to lead the missionaries to
the conclusion that this semi-civilized Asiatic was sincere in
his desire for enlightenment. For the Gospels Akbar had a
casket of great magnificence prepared. This whole incident
is notable as a study of character. When the sacred books
were given him he asked which volumes contained the four
Gospels. On being told, he pressed these to his heart, in
addition to the reverence shown to the other volumes, and
subsequently led Rudolf to the apartment in which the casket
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to preserve them stood. He kept the missionaries in conversa-
tion until two o'clock in the morning and sent a large sum of
money after them to their lodgings. This, of course, was re-
turned. Blessed Rudolf saying that he and his companions were
poor by choice, and could accept nothing but bare support
from day to day.
On Thursday nights discussions took place on moral and
religious subjects in presence of the emperor. The intellect
and learning of Akbar's court attended these functions — the
Saiyids, who claim descent from the Prophet ; the Shaiks, who
are a kind of Independents in religion ; the Uluma, who are the
doctors of Mohammedan law (very like the Celtic 011am, by
the by), and the subject kings and the grandees. At one of
these debates an incident occurred which, we think, ought to
have served as a danger-signal to Rudolf. The subject for this
night's debate was on the life and teaching of Mohammed com-
pared with our Lord's. Six of the most learned Mullahs were
present. During the discussion Akbar asked Blessed Rudolf
to read a passage from the New Testament. A Mullah raised the
question. Had not the Christians erased Mohammed's name from
Genesis and the Gospel ? — which implied an accusation industri-
ously circulated among Mohammedans. The accusation was
refuted by Rudolf, and he may have owed something of his
success to Abul Fazl, whose writings confirm the Jesuit account
of the missionaries' visit and the condition of things in the Mo-
gul Empire at the time. Abul Fazl supported him in the
argument ; but the circumstance to which we desire to call at-
tention is, that one of the fathers burst out indignantly 'With
the retort that it was Mohammed who had tried to corrupt the
Sacred Scriptures, and that his Koran teemed as well with blun-
ders as with moral enormities. Akbar got angry.
Why was he ? He could not have been favorable to Chris-
tianity when he allowed himself to be so affected for such a
cause. However, he showed fairness or caution in sending a
message after the debate to the two other fathers, begging they
would restrain the ardor of the one who had attacked Mohammed
and his Koran. Their reply was what it ought to have been,
that as the emperor wished to know the truth, it was their
duty to declare it ; nor could they, no matter what the conse-
quences, leave him under a false impression. Moreover it was
not fair, they urged, that while the Mullahs could denounce
the Son of God and the Sacred Scriptures, they should not be
permitted to say what they knew about the Koran. We must
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56o Talk about New Books. [Jan.,
leave the work at this point. Rudolf and his companions later
on had an opportunity of proving the love that lays down life*
We recommend it to our readers. It is an invaluable proof of
the reality of Catholic missions and an explanation of their
success. It is only a page in the tome of missionary effort
linking the Apostles with the zealous men who go out froni
the religious orders to every part of the world to-day. They
are going out as we write these words, they will go out when
the manuscript has gone from our hands, when we shall sleep
the last sleep, and when generations shall have passed away.
Whatever ebb and flow take place in social and material forces
over the globe, whatever political changes may arise swaying
serats of empire from place to place, that Catholic missionary
effort will continue with the zeal With which it began on the
first Pentecost Sunday, in Jerusalem.
The Beth Book^^ by Sarah Grand. This work has an interest
for those who desire to see something of the growth of char-
acter, and how far it may be affected by injudicious exercise
of authority and by the contact of moral and material in-
fluences of all kinds. It does not appear that Beth is a person
taken from life, though, no doubt, many of her traits are found
in real persons. As a study of the formation of character
we do not think the treatment successful. The effects which
would follow the injudicious handling of Beth from her earliest
childhood are certainly opposed to experience, even if they are
conceivable. As long as the author left the nature of the little
girl in the mists, as long as it was an unknown quantity,
anything might be added on to it as a so-called formative
influence, while the whole would be amorphous, as dim and in-
distinct as the cloudy heroes of Macpherson. But, unfortunate-
ly for herself, the author makes Beth's father discover that she
has a noble nature. This, though somewhat vague, has in
the circumstances of' Beth's life a meaning one may grasp,
namely, that she has a generous temper, that she is sensitive
to an exceptional degree, impulsive, reckless, and forgiving.
If the basis of her character be a generous temper so defined,
the tireatment to which she has been subjected would arrest
all development ; or, if a disposition worked itself out at all, it
would be towards a cynical unbelief in good, a contemptuous
and bitter estimate of mankind. There are moments when the
author, to some extent, sees these effects as probable results
♦ New York : D. Appleton & Co.
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1898.] Talk about New Books. 561
of the influences with which she surrounds the childhood and
dawning girlhood of Beth, but she modifies their power by ac-
cidental counter-infiuences working like the deus ex machina who
so conveniently rescues an author from the difficulties of his plot.
There is a curious instance of association of ideas as cause
and effect in Beth's childhood which may have been a fact
observed by the author. There was a pleasant, good-for-
nothing hanger-on in an Irish village in which her childhood
was passed. He had a wooden leg and a red nose ; so when-
ever Beth saw a man with a wooden leg she expected to see a
red nose, but, oddly enough, the sight of a red nose did not
suggest a wooden leg.
The author has a descriptive power uijdoubtedly, but a good
deal of what she writes as description of external nature is
sound, not sense. She speaks of the " crystal " stars. The
epithet has no meaning ; stars may be " red " or ** pale-gold " or
" white ** — the Candida of Lucretius — but they are not orbs of
glass. The colors she flings on sea and sky are sonorous
nonsense ; they are about as true to nature as the painting on
an inn sign or the yellow-ochre sunsets of a strolling com-
pany's scenery. When Beth, still a girl of fourteen, forms the
association of girls called the "Secret Service of Humanity," she
figures in a novel and a very entertaining phase of her develop-
ment. It is the best conceived and best executed stage in the
formation of her character. She lies superbly, and imposes on
her lieutenant, Charlotte, a girl of her own station ; though
how far the low-class girls who form' the rank and file of the
corps of '* Secret Service " take her seriously does not appear.
Very likely they regard it as good fun ; they are too narrow,
too much deadened down by surroundings that blighted the
promise of childhood, to take hold of the enthusiasm with which
Beth declaims against injustice, the cruelty of forms, the smug
superiority of high-placed worthlessness. The lies of Beth
about the messages of the " Secret Service," the mysterious
communications, the persons who deliver them and receive her
answers, are the spoken " stuff " of which her imagination is
made, and interesting stuff too in a way, for you begin to sus-
pect that the author had a type before her. For our own part,
we were reminded very much of Shelley as Godwin tells
about him, less Godwin's malice — that is, Shelley, the liar
as to words, was under the spell of an overmastering imagina-
tion, as strong as the charm which binds the genius of an
Eastern fairy tale, and talked away from within, as some children
VOL. LXVI.— 36
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562 Talk about New Books. [Jan.,
do. As the friends of such children, good stolid people, will
call them little liars, so persons would say *' the daylight could
* not be believed " out of Shelley's mouth. Godwin had his
own reasons for misunderstanding a mind so wonderful in the
grace and power and delicacy of its gifts ; and this very delicacy
too, like the fineness of exquisite workmanship, was not
quite as favorable to preserving its effectiveness as rougher
workmanship would have been ; and accordingly we throw God-
win over as an authority with respect to Shelley's lying. Now,
Beth, like Shelley, or |ike a highly imaginative child, took the
facts of the fancy as realities. She was not a liar while speak-
ing under the impulse of imagination, but she amuses by her
audacious disregard of probabilities and her supreme contempt
for the intellect of her young lieutenant.
We regret she married " Doctor Dan," a dreadful character,
but not without his prototype in real life, clever and low-born
in the sense' of not coming from people with high standards of
justice, honor, and duty, his manners coated with a veneer of
refinement for strangers, but brutally vulgar for the home.
The book is full of'faults, but affords proof of great ability.
It is a great pity that a story so fine in every way as Craw-
ford's Corleone* should be spoiled by such an outrageous blun-
der as is made in it as to the seal of confession. And to make
the matter worse, a great part of the action is made to hinge
on this blunder. It might not be worth while to show it up,
were it not that authors quite frequently fall into absurd mis-
takes of this kind in theological matters, seemingly thinking
that the laws of the church are very simple, and need very
little study. If a question of state law were concerned, they
would probably consult a lawyer, or a doctor if it were a ques-
tion of medicine ; but as to matters of the kind here involved,
vague impressions are quite sufficient.
The astounding absurdity is briefly as follows : Don Tebaldo
Pagliuca, in a mad fit of jealousy, pursues his brother Fran-
cesco — the whole thing is magnificently described — and the
latter taking refuge in a church, Tebaldo bursts in and kills him
on the steps of the altar.
A priest, Ippolito Saracinesca, happens to be in the organ
loft. He is a musician, and comes often to the church to play
on the instrument, which he is at the moment repairing. He
hears, of course, the commotion in the church, and goes down
the winding staircase from the gallery, not waiting to look over
* Corleone. By F. Marion Crawford. New York : The Macmillan Company.
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to see what is the matter; so he sees nothing of the killing.
But he meets Tebaldo, and sees the dead body of Francesco
lying on the step. Now, Tebaldo, knowing, it would seem, as
little about the seal of confession as the author, conceives the
brilliant idea of making a confession to the priest, in order,
forsooth, to seal his lips as to what he has actuality seen and
heard! He tells him he has murdered his brother. The priest,
naturally, hardly thinks. him fit for absolution, but still thinks
that he may have really and sincerely repented, and that the
confession may be not a mere trick, as it actually was ; and
therefore that secrecy must be observed about it, Tebaldo
then goes out, locks the priest in the church, and accuses him
of the murder before the authorities. Ippolito, in answer to
the charge, remains absolutely mute except to say that he is
innocent; being apparently as ignorant as to the obligations of
his office as Tebaldo or the author.
Probably the great majority, even of uneducated Catholics,
would kAow that there is nothing in^the world to prevent the
priest from simply stating what came under his observation,
outside of the confession. He could simply say : ^' I was in
the loft, mending the organ ; I heard a disturbance in the
church, and came down to see what was the matter. I met
Tebaldo Pagliuca coming from the altar, and saw a body lying
on the altar step, which I afterward found to be that of his
brother. Tebaldo went immediately out of the church. I
afterward found the door locked, which I had left open when I
came in, and shortly after the police came with Tebaldo to
charge me with the murder."
The fact of course is, that the confession is entirely irrele-
vant. Obviously Ippolito says and can say nothing about it in
any way ; his story is just the same as if the ridiculous thing
had never been attempted. Indeed, the mysterious silence which
the author ascribes to him is itself a sort of breaking of the
seal ; it seems to suggest that he has some special reason for
not saying anything.
If it were not for this enormous defect, the novel would be
of the very first class. It excels in delineation of character,
both personal and national, and most vivid word-painting.
Every scene stands out with the utmost sharpness, and the
plot is extremely interesting and exciting. There is a trace,
however, of what one often notices in modern novels, a sort
of hurrying and incompleteness at the end. One does not
know, for one thing, how Ippolito gets clear of the charge.
Tebaldo, it is true, tells his crime in a genuine confession on
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564 Talk about New Books. [Jan,^
his death-bed; and this confession is made aloud, and others
hear it. But is it possible that Mr. Crawford does not know
that those who overhear a sacramental confession are also bound
by the seal, and that it remains even after the death of the
penitent ? It may, of course, be said that Tebaldo meant his
confession to be public ; but there appears, to say the least, to
be no certainty of that ; and in this matter we must always
keep on the safe side. And it must be remembered, in con-
nection with the matters here criticised, that he is a Catholic,,
and wishes to be regarded as an authority in Catholic affairs.
The Story -of Jesus Christy* by Elizabeth Stuart Phelps*
We deprecate attempts to write picturesque or imaginative lives
of our Lord, even though done without an avowedly bad pur-
pose. It is impossible for such studies to be more than accounts
of the writer's ways of regarding the Most Sacred and the only
Divine figure that has appeared on earth to communicate with
men in their own manner. He dwelt amongst them ; but we
know that his contemporaries were unaware of his divine na-
ture and the holiness which enfolded his human nature, could
perceive nothing of the immensity of grace which flowed upon
his soul from its union with his divinity, as well as that inher-
ent from its creation and possessed from the superadded gifts
of the Holy Ghost. They saw in him only an ordinary one of
themselves. Now, we disapprove of estimates which must repeat
the blunder of the Jews among whom he lived.
The writer has advantages which the mass of the Lord's
contemporaries did not possess; and in the light of Christian
doctrine, morality, and civilization she is viewing him as if she
were in Nazareth before his birth, and enjoyed mysterious
knowledge of all that that time portended and of all that his
life meant until he laid it down. But his contemporaries were
without the possession of knowledge which nineteen centuries
of Christianity have supplied to the understanding of his. life.
She seems ostentatiously to throw away this infoimation, tut
it is a part of her being. No one, atheist or other, bred in the
atmosphere of Western civilization, but has in his moral prin-
ciples, his tastes, his regard for convenances, and his mode of
dealing with the fundamental facts of consciousness some share
of the Christian heritage. Consequently this lady cannot make
herself a Jewess living under Herod, she cannot see things with
the eyes of Galilean peasants, or as they were seen by the
rulers in Jerusalem 749 A. U.C, unless she takes the Gospel ac-
* Boston and New York : Houghton, Mifflin & Co.
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<:ount as it is. She does not do this; she constructs a fable
with colorable allusions to the Life in the Gospels, but with no
part of the profound and loving reverence which added on,
among early Christian peoples, incidents, events, interchanges
of thought and feeling, to supply to the heart what the severe
simplicity of the Gospels, the awful responsibility of the Evan-
gelists, could not bend to.
We do not mean that there is want of love in this book,
but there is a lack of reverence ; the ground on which she
treads is holy, but she does not know it. She can only see the
outer shell of the Lord's life, his Mother's relation to him in
an incoherent, jumbled-up way, and, woman-like, she judges St.
Joseph by one incident. As might be expected, she gushes
over the chivalry which the " builder," as she calls him, dis-
played in that time of perplexity.
We cannot be surprised at the view taken of our Lord in this
book — a view that simply erases the prophecies, contradicts the
entire purpose of the Old Dispensation and takes the light
and the life out of the New, when the author sees in His
Mother one who may be spoken of in such terms. As surely
as a pretended reverence for the honor of the Son expresses
itself in irreverence towards the Mother, so surely we shall
have his divinity misunderstood and finally denied, as it is by
many Protestants to-day. The blasphemies of the sixteenth
century are fulfiled in the naturalism of the nineteenth.
This little pamphlet. Conversions^* is likely to prove useful for
circulation among non-Catholics, or for distribution to them at
missions. Its title fairly summarizes its contents, which com-
prise brief accounts of the conversions of Cardinal Newman, of
Faber, and of Orestes Brownson and Bishop Ives. Less known
but fully as striking is the spiritual history of Rev. George
Haskins, once a Protestant minister, after a priest and the
founder of the House of the Angel Guardian, Boston.
I.— STUDY OF ISAIAH.f
This work, we learn from the preface, has grown out of
lectures delivered to the author's classes in the Theological
School of Boston University. This university is, we believe,
* Conversions^ and GocTs Ways and Means in Them. By Right Rev. John T. Sullivan.
Philadelphia : H. L. Kilner & Co.
^Isaiah : a Study of Chapters J, -XI I. By H. G. Mitchell, Professor in Boston Univer-
sity. New York : Thomas Y. Crowell & Co.
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controlled by the Methodists, and therefore Professor Mitchell's
views may be looked upon as being at least tolerated by
that body. If such be the case, no adherent of "higher"
criticism has reason to complain of being restricted. Practi-
cally without discussion, the opinion that the book of Isaias is
all the work of the prophet of that name is declared to be
now almost obsolete, the last twenty-seven chapters forming a
separate book. Even the thirty-nine chapters left to Isaias can
no longer with certainty be attributed to him ; in fact, some
parts evidently do not belong to him, while many other parts
are doubtful, Tameness of style and inferiority of contents
constitute the grounds for the rejection of some of these parts.
Professor Mitchell quotes without disapproval the opinion of
Dr. Cheyne, that only one-third of the first thirty-nine chapters
is genuine. As to the arrangement of what, after this examina-
tion, is asserted to be merely a collection of various documents
written at different times, a great degree of uncertainty is de-
clared to exist. Whether it was made according to the date
of the composition of the various parts, or whether the princi-
ple of arrangement is according to subject or content ; whether
the present arrangement is the original one, or whether such
arrangement as there is was made by accident or by an editor
or editors, and, if there are signs of order amid the apparent
chaos sufficient to indicate an intelligent supervisor, on what
principle he worked — all these questions are touched upon, and
as a result, for Mr. Mitchell's pupils, Isaias is transformed into
an editor of various documents, who lived as late as the latest
of the additions to the original nucleus — i, e,, near the fall of
the Persian Empire — the purpose of this editor in making his
collection being to stimulate his compatriots to expect the pro-
mised restoration, for which reason he takes care to secure
the recurrence of comforting passages throughout the collec-
tion, and even allows himself to do violence to the presumed
original arrangement in order to secure so happy a result.
Such is the teaching given from the professorial chair of Bos-
ton University.
We turn now to the comments on the Messianic prophecy,
" Behold a Virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and his name
shall be called Emmanuel." This is translated by Professor
Mitchell — " Lo, the young woman that shall conceive, and bear
a son and call his name Immanuel." It is to Professor
Mitchell self-evident that the Blessed Virgin is not meant, al-
though it is admitted to have been the view of the early
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Christians and to be still current. Nor is the Jewish explana-
tion acceptable^ The meaning of the passage, according to
Professor Mitchell, is simply that the condition of Judah is
shortly to be so much improved that any young mother would
be justified in indicating her satisfaction at this improvement
by calling her child Immanuel — God-is-with-us — and if any one
did so, this would be the fulfilment of the prophecy.
We have not found any very clear indication as to whether
so composite a document as Isaias is declared to be, is looked
upon by Professor Mitchell as inspired, and if so, what its in>
spiration means. He is, however, so reverent and respectful
in his way of writing, that it may be presumed that he looks
upon Isaias and the various authors and editors as divinely
guided in some way or other, although not so fully as not to
make misleading statements (see p. 44). While the work does
not seem to us to be product of original thought, it will be of
value to the student as a fair statement of the opinions at
present prevalent.
2.— JEWISH HISTORY.*
A new book by Father Gigot, of the Boston provincial
seminary, on that portion of Biblical Introduction which is
concerned with the history of the chosen pe9ple, is deserving of
the warmest welcome. The author has seized upon the right
idea of a manual of Jewish history and has consistently followed
it throughout. The sacred record itself, he is convinced, must
ever be the student's chief text-book, and all hand-books or
outlines are only in so far useful as they fill out and shed
light upon this original. A narrative so detailed as would, to
a large extent, dispense with the reading of the Bible itself,
would be, Father Gigot implies, and justly, seriously to lose
sight of the true method of Hebrew history study. This is but
an adaptation of the unifying principle of all Scripture science,
that exegesis is, more or less proximately, always the end of
the student's research — lower and higher criticism being intro-
ductory analyses, and sums or systems of Biblical teaching the
syntheses of exegetical results. Accordingly, the author has so
constructed his book as to make it o\ highest use to those
who re.id it Bible in hand. There has been no effort to give
a full, easily-running narrative of careful Jiterary finish, like
♦ Outlines of Jewish History from Abraham to our Lord, By the Rev. Francis E. Gigot,
S.Sm Professor of Sacred Scripture in St. John's Seminary, Boston, Mass. New York :
Benziger Brothers.
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568 Talk about New Books. [Jan,,
the history of Dean Milman or the lectures of Arthur Stanley.
Being different in scope and purpose from these, Father
Gigot's work cannot fairly be compared with them. These
latter, beyond question, are reading of the easiest and most
enjoyable nature, but to acquire a lasting and sure knowledge
of Jewish history, a knowledge that represents personal work,
no means is anything like so efficient, in conjunction with the
Old Testament itself, as a guide and commentary fully up with
every modern discovery, and cognizant of every modern pro-
blem. Such a guide is the work before us, and as such it
probably has no superior in English. From its nature it
carries condensation very far, at times to an excess, now and
then hurrying us off to a reference in Farrar or Ewald or
Vigouroux, when without much loss of space it could itself
afford us the illustration required. There are a few masterly
examples of condensation with no loss of clearness or simplicity
of style. We remember nowhere so clear and succinct an ac-
count of the Mosaic legislation as is contained in the eighth
and ninth chapters. References to the Bible are very numerous,
and those to extrinsic sources include the very best Scriptural
literature available to a reader of English and French. Sum-
marily to state our opinion of the book : it is a rapidly-moving,
nervously-written sketch, finely illustrative of the Old Testa-
ment account, and fully abreast of the latest results of Biblical
scholarship. It is the work of a specialist and scholar, and to
the student who gives it the attention it deserves and acts
upon its rich suggestions, it is better adapted than any work
of which we know to give a solid hold upon this department
of Scriptural study. Such a manual for Catholics and from a
Catholic source was long needed, and we trust that this able
attempt to supply the deficiency will be heartily encouraged*
The book has the imprimatur of* Archbishop Williams.
3. — CARMEL.*
Just a hundred years from the time when the first Carmel-
ite convent was established in the United States the third
filiation from it was founded in New England. In commemo-
ration of that event, the Discalced Carmelites of Boston have
compiled the brief and artless summary of the history, spirit,
and rule of thetr border which lies before us. Their convent on
Mount Pleasant Avenue was taken possession of by five nuns
* Carmel : Its History and Spirit. Boston : Flynn & Mahony.
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from the Baltimore Carmel late in August, 1890. In April, 1790,
an American nun in the Carmel of Antwerp, with two Ameri-
can nieces of an English lady who, like the others, had been
professed in Antwerp, were the first to obey the summons that
came to them from Maryland. ** Now is your time to found
in this country, for peace is declared and religion is free."
Their voyage was long and perilous ; they did not reach America
until July, and their convent was probably not opened until
late in that month. The century that has elapsed has seen but
three filiations from it, the first of which was not made until
1863. In America, as Bishop McCloskey said in 1844 to the
young aspirant sighing for baptism and the contemplative life
who afterwards became the founder of the Paulist Fathers,
"*'the church was so situated as it required them all to be ac-
tive.';
And yet the life of solitary prayer has always preceded
fruitful action. Great Elias, the founder of Carmel ; John the
Precursor, of whom our Lord said, " If ye will receive it, this
is Elias who was to come '*; Paul, who " conferred not with
men," but went down alone into the deserts of Arabia ; our
Lord Himself, in that hidden life of which we know so little
and dream so much — these are the models on which Carmel is
fashioned, the deep foundation on which it builds. One is not
surprised to learn that the known austerity of its life has not
prevented " a constant stream of applicants for admission " from
knocking at their doors. Nor can one hesitate to ascribe to
the virtue of their intercessory prayer the immense growth of
the American Church within the century, knowing that the
first of their houses was "especially founded for the purpose
of invoking by prayer and penance the Divine blessing upon
the Catholic missions of the new world."
The oldest of all religious orders — antedating the church
itself by the "schools of the prophets" on its famous Mount —
Carmel shares the special promise of enduring to the very end ;
as if to show a restless world, full of troubled activity even
when Christian, that trouble must die in confidence and activ-
ity learn due measure, and that poverty of spirit and inward
longing after God build the sole continuous road to the Eter-
nal City.
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Study Congress, held during the
t waning year in New York City,
to emphasize the fact that spiri-
tual growth and soul cultivation are matters as largely gov-
erned by scientific law as body development. This gathering,
under the patronage of the Paulist Fathers, called together
some of the best educationists of the day, including G. Stanley
Hall, President of Clark University. It. will not be without its
effect in the educational world, and together with the Institute
work reveals a wonderful activity in Catholic educational circles.
China, in all probability, is destined to be parcelled out to
the great European powers. It will be a curious study to see
which nationality will triumph. In any case, the light of
Christianity will be let in to illuminate the darkness of pagan-
ism there. We expect to publish in the future some very
interesting articles from Very Rev. Dr. Zahm on the state of
religion in China, the result of his own personal observations.
•
In speaking of future articles we are able to announce the
publication of an article on the ** Recollections of Aubrey de
Vere," by one who was intimately associated with him during
his life, his own cousin. Aubrey de Vere has attained an envi-
able place among the poets, and his work has been known to
American readers largely through the pages of this magazine.
We shall print also, in the early future, a very bright article
from the pen of Thomas Arnold, brother of Mrs. Humphrey
Ward, and the only surviving son of the late Dr./Arnold of Rugby.
A letter from Rome announces that the Li/e of Father
HeckeVy in its French translation, has received from the Holy
Father a special notice. When it was presented to him he in-
quired particularly into Father Hecker's saintly life and work,
and affectionately sent his blessing to all who actively co-oper-
ate in the works which group themselves about Father Heck-
er's name, particularly the Apostolate of the Press and the
Missions to non-Catholics.
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AUTHENTIC SKETCHES OF LIVING CATHOLIC
AUTHORS.
Mr. William J. D. Croke was born on February 20, 1869,
at Halifax, N. S., his father being the then member of the
Canadian Parliament for Richmond, and his mother belonging
to the MacNab, one of the oldest colonial families and that
from which the island takes its name.
Mr. Croke made his earliest studies at St. Mary's College,
Halifax ; at St. Joseph's College, Memramcook, N. B., and at
St. Dunstan's College, Charlotte-
town, P. E. I., until at the per-
suasion of Monsignor Hannan,
the then Archbishop of Halifax,
who was a friend of the family,
he was sent, not as was at first
intended, to Stonyhurst College,
England, but to St. Edmund's
College, Douai, the institution
which has inherited all the local
British and Irish memories of
that famous university town.
After spending three years
there, Mr. Croke was first sent to
England and then called home,
in 1883, for delicate health.
Nothing, however, availed to William j. d. Croke.
wean him of his affection for his
old school, not even a scholastic year at Montreal, the Rome of
America, whither he chose to go (to the College de Montreal)
on trial, rather than to any other school in the United States
or Canada. Therefore, after travelling in the United States,
he returned to his old college in the autumn of 1884.
After an extended sojourn in England on the completion
of his humanities, he proceeded, in 1889, ^^ Rome, where he
has resided ever since, with the exception of absences during
such periods of travel as he has devoted to the pursuit of his-
tory, archaeology, and art. He has there established a very
solid reputation for proficiency in these studies. His asso-
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572 Authentic Sketches of [Jan.,
ciation with the press of very various colors has brought him
into close contact with the actualities of modern life, as is
shown by his connections with such widely different papers as
The Daily Telegraph (the great Conservative organ), The West-
minster Gazette (said to be the only paper which Mr. Gladstone
reads), The Tablet (the best English Catholic paper), the historic
NatioHy The Standard of Malta, La Verity of Quebec, The Irish
Catholic^ The Catholic Standard and Times of Philadelphia, The
Washington Post^ and The Roman Posty to which last he contri-
buted many signed articles. His correspondences over a pseudo-
nym sent to the quondam Catholic Times of Philadelphia, which
elicited the praise of being the best sent from Rome to any
paper, and a certain similarity of style, or rather of treatment,
have perhaps caused his widespread identification with the
** Innominato " of the New York Sun. Mr. Croke says he knows
** Innominato," with whom he occasionally collides or chaffs in
some correspondences signed with his own name. Though he
is a contributor to The Catholic World Magazine, and
though he occasionally writes articles in other American peri-
odicals, his name is not of very frequent occurrence in monthly
literature, despite its otherwise undoubted familiarity in the
United States. He holds that Rome is too far away from
America to permit of any active literary concurrence upon
topics of the hour, and he is, moreover, engaged on the prepar-
ation of an archaeological work which has entailed very lengthy
and laborious researches in the mediaeval archives of Rome.
His daily life is half given to journalism and half to study.
He is an infrequent visitor to the salons of Rome, though he is
welcome in many of the " Black," *' White," and " Gray " cir-
cles. His particular pleasure is such travelling as he has re-
cently written of thus :
**I went a few days ago to Urbisaglia, a town which Dante
has honored with a mention and thus enshrined in history. I
arrived, and, though it was Sunday, saw that the chief of
police was scanning my arrival and appearance as extraordinary,
from the chief window of his new residence. After inspecting
the church and dismantled fortress of the middle ages, I drove
to the neighboring village of Colmurano, where I also in-
spected the antiquities. Returning to Urbisaglia I ordered
supper. Hardly had I sat at table before the Brigadier, Chief
of the Carbineers, or Military Police, was announced. He en-
tered with an assistant. He said: 'Sir, you will allow me? I
am the Chief of the Police here. You must have a reason for
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1898.] Living Catholic Authors. 573
coming here. What may it be ? ' Had I told him about Dante
I should have fallen into a hopeless plight. So I merely gener-
alized about the common practice of taking outings for the
promotion of health in general and of digestion in particular.
Then he wanted all the particulars or, as he called them,
'generalities/ about my person, etc. Unfortunately I was a
foreigner. He insisted that I was a Frenchman (the French
are regarded as hereditary enemies here). After a great deal
of tedious explanation he made me put down my name, etc.,
on paper. Had I refused to do so, I should have been arrested.
Being arrested, what might have happened ? At Genoa a pris-
oner has just died in jail, and the doctors are trying to find
out how his ribs came to be smashed in. At Rome a prisoner
has just been discovered — say the papers on direct authority —
in a similar plight. At Rome, also, not very long ago, a
prisoner died and the contusions on his body aroused the same
terrible suspicion."
A paper from his pen was very favorably commented on in
August last, at the International Scientific Congress of Fri-
bourg, Switzerland. It has now been printed under the title :
Subiaco : Architecture ^ Paintings and Printing: a Continuous
Chapter of Three Phases of Progress. Mr. Croke is above the
middle size in stature and very fully and strongly built ; rather
olive than ruddy in complexion, and dark in tint of hair.
Everybody asks if he is a relative of his namesake, the patriotic
Archbishop of Cashel. He lays no claim to that honor, in
which, however, he would have great pride. He traces a family
connection with Cardinal Wiseman. The name of Croke, he
contends on the basis of some well-ascertained, facts and of
some records of the middle ages which he has discovered in
Italy, is an English one, and there even existed a village called
Crokehome in Western England during the middle ages.
Mrs. Sallie Margaret O'Malley, although comparatively
a recent comer into the field of Catholic literature, is not un-
known as a contributor to secular letters. Of Virginia-
Kentucky ancestry, she was born at Centreville, Wayne
County, Indiana, December 8, 1861. Her maiden name was
Hill. A few years after her birth her parents removed to
Missouri, and she received her education in that State, first at
the Farmers' Institute, near Deepwater, and later at the
University of Missouri. Several subsequent years were spent in
teaching. On October 15, 1882, she was united in marriage to
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574 Living Catholic Authors. [Jan.,
Charles J. O'Malley, editor of The Midland Review^ Louisville,
Ky.
In very early girlhood Mrs. O'Malley showed a decided
bent for writing, and contributions from her pen frequently
appeared in the local press. After marriage her work became
evident in many periodicals. Several poems of hers found
place in Wide Awake ^ The Southern Bivouac^ Fetter's Magazine ^
The Round Table, and others. At intervals strong, graphic
stories from her pen began to appear. About three years after
marriage she became a Catholic, and her first work for a
Catholic periodical appeared in The Catholic Reading Circle
Review. Later several stories of hers were published in the
Poor Souls' Advocate f Monthly Visitor, Angelus Magazine, and a
number of other journals. Under the kindly encouragement,
however, of Mr. James Riley, editor of The Weekly Bouquet,
Boston, her first genuinely Catholic work appeared. Sketches,
drawn from life, of the descendants of those French pioneers
who composed the early missions in Missouri, contributed to
the pages of that journal, found wide republication in this
country and England. A fresh one of this series, ''Pledges
made at Bonhomme," appears in this issue of The Catholic
World Magazine.
In May, 1897, her first volume, entitled An Heir of Dreams,
was brought out by Benziger Brothers. Other work is planned
for the future.
Mrs. O'Malley prefers to keep her personality in the back*
ground, so far as possible. Up to the present her work has
been produced under many discouragements. An unresting
toiler, earnest, capable, yet burdened with many cares, she
does not wish to have her struggles mentioned. She prefers to
let her work speak for her and hopes that it may be judged
upon its merits.
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1898.] The Columbian Reading Union. 575
THE COLUMBIAN READING UNION.
THE Catholic Club of New York City recently celebrated the event of reopen-
ing its valuable library by a public gathering of ladies and gentlemen pro-
minent in the literary and art circles of society. A large number of those present
had already been favored with a copy of the new catalogue, which reveals a verit-
able Klondike of wealth for literary workers on Catholic lines. The members of
the committee in charge of its preparation deserve the thanks of the reading pub-
lic. Among the distinguished guests were Richard Watson Gilder, editor of the
Century magazine, and Rossiter Johnson, president of the Authors' Club, who
were called upon for short speeches. Judge Joseph F. Daly, president of the
Catholic Club, also presented Dr. John S. Billings, director of the consolidated
Astor-Tilden- Lenox Library, which is to be erected at a cost of about seven mil-
lions of dollars. Plans for the new building were drawn by John M. Carrese, a
native of Brazil, who made studies in art and architecture at two of the greatest
Catholic institutions in Europe. A notable specimen of his architectural skill is
the Ponce de Leon Hotel, at St. Augustine, Florida. The practical details of
a plan for the new library building in Bryant Park, New York City, were fur-
nished by a committee to the architects desiring to enter the competition. This
plan called for a three-story structure without exterior orQamentation, the readini^
rooms to'be on the third floor, which would be reached by stairways and elevators.
A unique feature would be the handling of the books. This would be done by
•electric lifts, and there would be neither tubes nor arrangements similar to those
•employed in department stores, as there are in some of the modern libraries.
The main front of the building, according to the committee's suggestions*
would be in Fifth Avenue, and the building would be divided into three grand
sections, of which one would be devoted to the administration department, one
to reading, reference and other rooms, and one to the great book-stack, with a
capacity of 1,500,000 volumes.
The plans suggest that the reference rooms shall be away from the noise
and crowds, and that the larger reading-rooms, having a seating capacity of eight
hundred each, be lighted from the large courts. These rooms are to be on the
third floor, to which readers may go by stairs or fast elevators.
In making its plans the committee figured on the development of Greater
New York and the consequent increase in library demands. The building pro-
posed by them could be extended toward Sixth Avenue, a distance of one hundred
and seventy-five feet, and the courts, reading-rooms, and book-stacks could be
duplicated, and even then the park proper would still remain as it is at present.
Dr. Billings has announced a most comprehensive plan of providing for the
intellectual needs of the reading public, including the children. He believes that
good citizens ought to do whatever is possible to insure the widest circulation
among the people of the discoveries that mark the path of progress, and to dis-
seminate the best ideas of the wisest men and women by the aid of the printed
page. It is proposed to establish a broad system of intercommunication with
small libraries now in existence, and to recognize that there is an imperative need
to bring books as close as possible to the homes of the people.
« * «
The visitors to the Catholic Club library had the rare privilege of seeing an
exhibit of the manuscripts of the early Jesuit missionaries in North America,
brought by Father Jones from the archives at Montreal. Specimen pages, written
in the year 1646, were shown from the writings of Father jogues and many other
martyrs for the faith. Considerable interest was manifested in examining the
original autograph map of the Mississippi, drawn with great accuracy by Father
Marquette over two hundred years ago. Some early documents gave the accounts
of the extraordinary virtues of the Indian maiden called the ** Lily of the Mo-
hawks." It would be an excellent plan for Reading Circles to devote attention to
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576 The Columbian Reading Union. [Jan., 1898.]
this heroic period of Christian endeavor in American history, especially as depict-
ed in the volume written by Miss Ellen H. Walworth, entitled Life and Times of
Kateri Tekakwitha, which was highly praised by John Gilmary Shea.
This work is, as the title would indicate, a biography and a history. It
shows a long and careful study of the life and surroundings of the Indian maiden,,
and much consultation also with living historians who have taken interest in this
and kindred subjects. Besides this, the whole work shows that the mind of the
author has been deeply impressed with the romance of her subject, and of the
times in which her dusky heroine lived. She has made herself thoroughly
familiar with the localities described, as well as with the customs and daily lite
of the early colonists aodi Indians who came , in contact with this Mohawk maiden.
In the present volume all the places connected with her birth and early life
in the Mohawk Valley are minutely and accurately described. Valuable original
maps, prepared especially for the work by General John S. Clark, of Auburn ^
N. Y., and the Rev, C. A. Walworth, of Albany, enable the reader to locate
readily every site mentioned from Auriesville, near the mouth of the Schoharie
River, westward through the ancient Mohawk aountry.
The march of an army on snow-shoes from Canada to Schenectady — that of
De Courselle, in the winter of 1665-1666 — will be new and interesting reading ta
those unacquainted with the wealth of our early annals ; as also the description
of Albany at the time of its transfer from Dutch to English rule.
Among the stirring and notable events of Kateri Tekakwitha's life may be
mentioned — The burning of the Mohawk villages by De Tracy, when she was
ten years old ; the battle of her own people with the Mohegans, which began at
Caughnawaga, now Fonda, and ended at Hoffman's Ferry; the stay of the
French Blackgowns in her uncle's lodge ; her refusal to marry a young Indian,,
whose suit was favored by her relatives, and the sufferings she' had to endure in
consequence of such unwonted temerity. All these things occurred during her
heathen days, when she took part in the meiry"Corn Feast" and the strange
"Feast of the Dead." Later she became a Christian, and was baptized with
great solemnity by Father De Lamberville at the rustic chapel of " St. Peter's of
the Mohawks" in her native valley. Afterwards she was persecuted on account
of her Christian faith, and was driven by ill-usage from her uncle's lodge. Her
escape to the banks of the St. Lawrende River was dangerous and exciting.
Her quiet and holy life at the mission village of the " Sault ' was interrupted for
a time by the adventures of the Hunting Camp, whither she went with her
adopted sister, and again by a visit to Montreal. Here she had an opportunity
of comparing the early frontier settlement of the French traders with that of the
Dutch at Fort Orange. Among other sights that were strange and new to her,
she saw at Ville Marie a convent of nuns and their Indian pupils, presided over
by Marguerite Bourgeois, the friend of Mademoiselle Manse of colonial fame,
whose hospital was also close at hand with its devoted little band of sisters.
Notwithstanding her admiration for the nuns and their way of life, Tekak-
witha returned to die an early death among h.er own people at the " Sault." The
descendants of those, as well as other Indian tribes of the present day, reverenced
her memory, calling her, with mingled pride and tenderness, their " Little Sister."
The French Americans of Canada and the United States have nanKd her " La
Bonne Catherine " and " The Genevieve of New France."
Her friendship for the Oneida girl, Th^rese Tegaiaguenta, and her beautiful
death as witnessed by the Jesuit missionaries, Cholenec and Chaucheti^re, fill up
the closing chapters of this unique and complete biography of an Indian. Hith-
erto the life of this " Lily of the Mohawks * has been, as the author says in her
preface, "an undeveloped theme in literature." It has been her privilege "to
explore so tempting a field of romance and archaeology " with the best of guides,
and this volume is the carefully compiled result of what has been to the writer a
labor of love.
* >^ *
The catalogue for 1898 prepared by Benziger Brothers is the best exhibit of
Catholic literature which has yet appeared. It contains over seventy portraits of
Catholic authors- The department of juvenile fiction is particularly well repre-
sented, and we hope that the living authors will be rewarded by a generous
patronage from readers and publishers. A copy of the catalogue may be pro-
cured by sending a request to Benziger Brothers, 36 Barclay Street, New Yoik City.
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CATHOLMW^^LD.
Vol. LXVI. FEBRUARY, 1898. No. 395.
SPIRITUAL DEVELOPMENT VS. MATERIALISM
AND SOCIALISM.
BY REV. MORGAN M. SHEEDY,
Author of *» Christian Unity ^
HE contest that exists in the moral
world between light and darkness,
truth and falsehood, goes on for
ever. In one form or another this
struggle exists at all times and in
every land, civilized or barbarous,
Christian or anti-Christian, mon-
archical or republican, and no
doubt will continue to exist until
light and truth are vindicated in
all the fulness of their glory and
beauty and blessedness, and exer-
cise complete control over the
minds and hearts of men.
Let us consider in its very beginning the training of the
child, and endeavor to reach some sound and helpful conclu-
sion as to the benefits to the child and to society of develop-
ing his spiritual nature as a remedy against the materialism and
socialistic tendencies of the age.
It is a truth which, however frequently uttered, cannot be
too constantly kept in mind, that the well-being of society
depends on the well-being of the individuals composing it.
The well-being of the individual begins with the principles
Copyright. The Missionary Society of St. Paul the Apostle in the
State of New York. 1897.
VOL. LXVI. — 37
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5/8 Spiritual Development vs. [Feb.,
that should secure him happiness, and at the same time make
him a useful member of society. Most of the evils of society
come from the failure to realize this. The truth here stated
may be accepted theoretically, but unless it enter into the core
of our being, and stir into action corresponding motives, neither
personal nor social happiness can be secured.
TWO OPPOSING THEORIES OF EDUCATION.
We must be certain, then, that we start with sound princi-
ples in educating the individual members that make up the
state. At the outset it may be well to recall that there are
two well-defined theories of education, fundamentally opposed
to each other. There is the theory of Christianity, which holds
that man is made up of body and soul, that he is spiritual as
well as material in his being, and that consequently his spiritual
as well as his material faculties must be educated ; that he is
made according to the image and likeness of God, destined for
an immortal end : and there is the other theory, not always
openly put forward, but existing nevertheless and daily put in
practice, that man is not an immortal spirit made unto the
likeness of his Creator and destined for immortality, but a
material organism, wonderfully fashioned, it is true, but made
up of physical atoms, bone and tissue, muscle, and the gray
matter of the brain. He is so constituted by nature, we are
told, that he is capable of the highest degree of refinement
and culture, but his interests, as his life, are confined to the
narrow sphere of this world, and do not extend beyond it.
Now, education, both parties are agreed, forms men, and
men form society. The individual forms the nation. The
important question is this : How are we to make the nation ?
The answer is plain : by taking care of the individual, by
fashioning him aright, by so educating the child as to secure
to the individual and the nation the greatest degree of happi-
ness. Youth is the impressionable period ; youth is the assimi-
lative period ; youth stores up the physical, mental, and moral
resources of a life-time, and if man is to be reached from with-
out at all, it must be while he is still a youth.
Now, the advocates of the second theory have labored to
expel Christianity from education. Hence they have claimed
for education that it must be free, universal, secular, and com-
pulsory. Men of progress in all countries have been preaching
for generations that religion — that is to say, the development
and training of the soul of the child — must be separated from
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X898.] Materialism AND Socialism. 579
politics, from philosophy, from science. We are almost wearied
into silence. Public opinion has been poisoned into this false-
hood. As Cardinal Manning said : '' The youth of these days
is being reared upon a teaching and a literature which are
materialistic and sensuous. What wonder, then, that so many
grow up in this country to-day without any or little knowledge
of God and his law ; that the Christianity of many is shal-
low ; that materialism largely controls the actions of men ; and
that the spectre of socialism, in its most dreaded form, is
manifesting itself more and more every day ? *'
WHAT OF THE FUTURE OF OUR COUNTRY?
How is it going to be with America in the future ? That
question, of tremendous importance, is answered by this other :
How are we educating the child of to-day?
Without here going into a proof of man's spirituality and
his immortal destiny, let me put the matter before you on
much lower considerations. Does it pay to bring up the child
totally ignoring his spiritual nature and its development ?
Is it to be supposed that a child who knows little or
nothing of the Ten Commandments, who has never learned to
know the meaning, say, of the fourth, fifth, sixth, or seventh
Commandment of God, will make a better citizen, a better
neighbor, a better father or mother, a better son or daughter,
a better member of society, than one who does?
THE PRESENT TREND.
Let us look for a moment at the tendencies in our Ameri-
can life at this hour. There is unrest and social discontent.
Consider the condition of the masses of the people. The average
working-man is discontented not, as a rule, because a cleverer
man than he, or a man who got a better start in life, has a
vastly larger share of this world's goods, but because he him-
self holds so uncertainly his own small share.
In America he realizes his inalienable right "to life, liberty,
and the pursuit of happiness." But "conditions have changed
so that thousands of men distinctly believe, and other thou-
sands vaguely suspect, that the latest gains in civilization have
clouded the title of the average man " to these rights.
Is there anything reprehensible, from the Christian stand-
point, in this fight for security ; " security of standing-ground ;
security of opportunity; security of personal recognition among
the shareholders in the inheritance of the ages; security of a
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58o Spiritual Development vs. [Feb.,
man's chance to be a man ; security that the mighty, imper-
sonal power of capital and organization shall not be allowed
to march masses of men rough-shod over individual men, in
pursuit of schemes vast in aim, but needlessly terrific in
means " ?
Some one has said that it is not wise to be over-emphatic
to-day with the working-man about his duties, if one is not
prepared to grant with equal emphasis his rights. He has been
taught to look for his heaven here, and he is trying very hard
to get it. There is a mad scramble for the material things of
life. The individual, sensible of his weakness, combines with
other individuals. Hence we have great labor unions on the
one side and great combinations of capital, or trusts and
monopolies, on the other.
Between them exists a real warfare. " We talk about the com-
ing of an era of peace when the battle-flags shall be furled, when
the cannons shall be turned into plough-shares ; we are waging
a more terrible and more remorseless and more destructive bat-
tle than was ever waged by men who bared their breasts on
the fields of conflict to the deadly shot and the thrusts of
sabres. It is all the more deadly because none of us is able
wholly to realize its true nature and purport. It has come to
be considered as a part of the natural law. The results of this
economic condition work with the inevitableness of natural
law ; it is a part of that great theory of evolution which is
itself a phase of the wider theory of a mechanical universe,
beginning with star-dust and atoms and involving in it all that
we are and all that we hope to be, thrusiting out God and the
soul."
HOW SOCIALISTS REGARD THE CATHOLIC CLERGY.
It is a significant fact that not a single socialist of note
can be named who came out of a Christian school or a Catho-
lic educational institution. The teaching of the church is a
bulwark against anarchy.
Herr Bebel, the well-known German socialist, in a recent
speech, compared the attitude towards the working classes
taken up respectively by the Catholic clergy and the Protestant
ministers. With regret he confesses that the Catholic clergy
have prevented the progress of socialism, and that this is
chiefly because, unlike the Protestant ministers, they were in
direct contact with the working people.
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1898.] Materialism and Socialism. 581
growth of crime. — how accounted for.
The Italian professor, Lombroso, has an article in the
North American Review for December on the increase of homi-
cide in the United States. He is an authority on the subject,
having a world-wide reputation as a student of mental disease
and criminology. The striking fact the . professor discusses is
the increase of sixty per cent, in homicides in the United
States in the last ten years, while there has been an increase
of only twenty-five per cent, in population. He also points
out that, while in all other civilized countries homicide is de-
creasing in number, in this country it is increasing. Thus, in
1880 the arrests for homicide were reported by the census at
4,600, and in 1890 at 7,500. Statistics gathered by a Chicago
newspaper showed last year 10,000 homicides in the United
States.
The National Prison Congress mpt this year in Austin,
Texas, and began its sessions on December 2. In his address
its president. General Brinkerhoff, said, when discussing methods
of preventing crime : " First and foremost, what is essential is,
to revolutionize our educational system from top to bottom, so
that good morals, good citizenship, and ability to earn an hon-
est living shall be its principal purposes, instead of intellectual
culture, as heretofore." As another means of preventing crime
General Brinkerhoff advocated religious instruction in schools.
He added : " I am not asking that creeds should be taught in
our public schools, but that ethics be taught, which is the
science of morals, or of conduct as right or wrong, which all
creeds recognize. Does any sane man object to the teachings
of the Ten Commandments or the Sermon on the Mount ? If
there are such, I have never heard of them. Let us have a
text-book that all creeds can approve. Then, with a text-book
thus approved, let it have the first place in every school cur-
riculum, from the kindergarten to the highest university."
A recent writer in one of the great New York dailies re-
marks that " whatever may have been the ancient orthodox
views on this subject, it is a most remarkable fact that the
more modern and distinguished investigators in the department
of criminal statistics are opposed to the view that intellectual
ignorance is the logical cause of crime. As stated in a recent
English publication, and as otherwise known, the following
writers have expressed themselves 'as more or less emphati-
cally of opinion that instruction in reading and writing has
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S82 Spiritual Development vs. [Feb.,
little or no effect in elevating the character and diminishing
the volume of crime ' ; viz., in France : Guerry, Ivernes, and
Haussonville ; in Italy, Lombroso, Garofalo, and Ferri; in
Belgium and Germany, Quatelet, Van Oettingen, Valestini, and
Starcke."
DIVORCES*
Mr. Gladstone, in acknowledging the receipt of a copy of
Christian Unity sent him by the author of this paper, who
dealt briefly with the subject of divorce in that work, wrote,
as late as June, 1896, as follows: "It is deplorable to read of
the state of law and facts with regard to divorce in America.
But I am glad that your church gives no countenance to them.
If we sap the idea of the family^ we destroy the divinely-given
foundation both of society and of religion'' This is very strong
testimony indeed from so high a source, and shows the con-
servative power of the Catholic Church as a great social factor
and influence.
The Hon. Amasa Thornton, a prominent lawyer and Repub-
lican, in an article in the North American Review for January,
commenting on Rev, Josiah Strong's solution of the Twentieth
Century City Problem, says : '* The children and youth of to-
day must be given such instruction in the truths of the Bible
and Christian precepts, and in the duties and principles of good
citizenship, as will prevent them in mature years from swinging
from their moorings and being swept into the maelstrom of
social and religious depravity, which threatens to engulf the
civilization of the future. Such instruction can only be given
successfully by an almost entire change of policy and practice
on the question of religious teaching in the public schools, and
the encouragement of private schools in which sound religious
teaching is given."
INCREASE OF CRIME AMONG THE YOUNG.
The increase of offences against the law by young people is
marked, and it is due to the lack of spiritual training of our youth.
For many years after negro emancipation the court records
in the Southern States discouraged the friends of education by
showing an astonishing increase in convictions for forgery of
young negroes when first taught to read and write. Now all
this, it may fairly be insisted, is the natural, inevitable conse-
* The increase of the number of divorces in this country has become alarmin^^. How
account for it ? ^
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1898.] Materialism and Sociajlism. 585
quence of our false theory of education. But it has been
held that men and women may lead moral lives and that
upright and good nations may exist without belief in God.
But, I ask, where in the pages of history can record of such a
nation be found ? Read the history of the ancient republics.
What was their fate?
QUO VADIS?
To me the undiminished popularity of Quo Vadis? is matter for
rejoicing. It is, by all odds, the most successful of contempo-
rary novels, and it is being read by thousands, many of whom
will probably be benefited by it. The contrast which it presents
between pagan and Christian morality is very striking. To the
world of to-day, which is relapsing into paganism, the author
seems to say "Quo vadis?" and of the woman of the day he
seems to ask, "Are you willing to fall back into the degrada-
tion from which Christianity rescued you ? " One is disposed
to excuse the too realistic passages in the story when one re-
members the object the author evidently had in view.
Kipling gives us a picture — fairly true to life — of one of the
" spoiled darlings " in his Captains Courageous^ which represents
a type of some young Americans whose number is increasing.
But what of the boy or girl who comes out of the school
where spiritual development goes hand-in-hand with secular
training ? Are all such perfect ?
There have been, as we freely admit, many failures among
children educated in Christian schools. But this may be fairly
accounted for on the grounds of defective home-training, bad
companionship, the contamination of the streets, and not to
the training received in the Christian school.
WHAT RELIGION DOES.
It is true that we often find religion disparaged by failures.
False religion is accountable for this. With true religion the
case is different. It makes man stronger ; it enables him to
conquer — to bear up bravely. In other words, it makes of him
a man in the true sense of the word. Religion gives man a
better chance to be what it was intended he should be. Re-
ligion takes a man from a low, superficial, selfish, worldly life
and makes of him a noble, self-sacrificing, conscientious being.
A man with religion works with a different spirit and a differ-
ent idea of life than he who does not possess it.
Leaving out of consideration for the present positively re-
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584 Spiritual Development vs. [Feb.,
Hgious acts, such as the attendance upon divine worship, daily
prayer, examination of conscience, repentance and confession
of sin, restitution and forgiveness of injuries, benevolence and
charity, religion reveals to man his place in this world, shows
to him the' nobility of life, and puts before him the truth that
a saint is after all manhood at its very best.
The trouble with a great many of us is, that we have lost
the use of our spiritual faculties through lack of exercise. Like
other faculties with which man is endowed, his spiritual capac-
ity, in order to be at its best, needs exercise. This it secures
through what we call religious acts. Without this exercise of
the spiritual powers we become distorted, one-sided. They
make man stronger, nobler, richer.
Christianity has one end in view — the uplifting of man. We
know that the world has ^trange notions of Christianity. Let
us show that with it we can do life's work better. Everybody
is looking for the ideal young man — for one who has a lofty
purpose in life, high ideals, and the consciousness that he was
placed where he is in order that by his opportunities he may
make the world brighter, better, happier, and stronger for his
having been in it.
OUR SCHOOL SYSTEM DOES NOT GO FAR ENOUGH.
Our school system is good in so far as it is free and uni-
versal. Education is good. But our school system is radically
defective inasmuch as it lays no stress on morality. What is
our idea in educating our children ? To make money-winners
and money-getters of boys who will be able to make money
enough and more than enough. We do not go down into the
deep, eternal basis of man's heart and say, first, Be a man.
We say, "Be smart, be shrewd, be clever." Our race will, little
by little, decay under such training.
The destiny of individuals and nations is controlled by
moral forces. If history teaches any lessons it is this.
SIGNS OF AWAKENING.
But men are becoming alarmed and are prepared to recon-
sider their views and theories of education.
The other day I read with great satisfaction an address of Dr.
Harris, United States Commissioner of Education, in which he
said, that "there never was a more unscientific book than Spen-
cer's Essay on Education,'' and that Spencer's idea of education is
fundamentally false, because, as Dr. Harris pointed out, Spen-
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cer does not take education as the genesis of man's spiritual
life, but merely as something useful for showing man how to
care for his body and perform the lower social functions of
life. Yet Spencer's view of education has prevailed widely.
Again, I find Dr. Edward Everett Hale, while speaking in
this city a few days ago on " Morality in the Public Schools,"
saying : " There is danger of the managers of a great machine
taking more pride in the machine and its workings than in the
results it turns out. This is the danger in our public schools."
There is a good deal wrong with our modern society. But
what Carlyle said years ago, in his own blunt, vigorous way, is
true now and always will be true: "The beginning and the
end of what is the matter with society is, that we have for-
gotten God." Hence, to set things right we must restore a
knowledge of God and his laws. We must develop the spirit-
ual side of man so that he be lifted above the gross and ma-
terial things around him ; for society founded on a purely
natural and materialistic basis must perish, as all societies so
established have perished.
DEVICES TO SUPPLEMENT DEFECTIVE TRAINING IN THE
DAY-SCHOOL.
What are the Kindergarten system, the University Settlement
system, the Protestant Sunday-school system, the Epworth
League, the Society of Christian Endeavor, the Young Men's
Christian Association, the Salvation Army, but means to develop
the spiritual nature of man, and to restrain the grosser and
materialistic tendencies of his being? The promoters of all
these agencies are fully convinced that it is the moral or spiri-
tual element that must save society. Hence, if they were con-
sistent they would be on our side on this question of education ;
they would unite with us Catholics, and insist that spiritual
or religious training should go hand-in-hand with secular in-
struction.
OUR SUMMING UP.
The problem presents itself to us in this simple form :
Shall we follow Him who is the light of the world, and who
said, " Suffer little children to come unto me "; or, ignoring
Him, listen to the false, materialistic philosopher who says,
"Make your heaven here; live for this world and what you
can get out of it ; leave the next to care for itself " ? Or, shall
we follow the socialist, with his creed of terror and despair,
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when he tells us " the idea of God is a myth ; the present or-
der and arrangement of things is unjust, and there can be no
peace or rest until it is overthrown " ? Over against this we
set the teaching of the Christian school :
** Whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest,
whatsoever things are just and pure and lovely, and of good
report, if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think
on these things." These are the thoughts which make us noble
and good and Christ-like, and which, being disseminated, will
make the world better.
Upon the solid pillars of intelligence and morality, patriot-
ism and religion, the mighty superstructure of this Republic
has been raised, and out of these elements have grown and
developed our ideas of liberty, equality, and fraternity. To
preserve our form of government, to make the nation prosper-
ous, contented, and happy, all lovers of their country should
have a care that its citizens are trained to be virtuous, con-
scientious men ; honest in thought as well as in purpose, so
that in all things they may be true to themselves, true to their
fellow-men, and true to their God. In other words, we must
develop the spiritual or religious nature of the child if we are
to have the best type of American citizen. It remains for
America, which has taught the world in so many ways during
this nineteenth century, to show in the coming century how a
republic founded on the intelligence and patriotism of its peo-
ple can be preserved against the assaults of materialism and
socialism, and this can only be done by -following Him who
is the Light of the world and the Saviour of society.
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HAPPY MARRIAGES OF NOTED PERSONS.
BY FRANCES ALBERT DOUGHTY.
MARRIAGE is like a building with stained glass
windows. An observer peering into the structure
from the outside receives no idea of proportions ;
colors, lights, and shadows are strangely confused
to his vision.
An impression prevails that persons of the marked individu-
ality which results in eminence are necessarily difficult to live
with, that the most intimate of domestic relations is likely to
prove unhappy in their case. By a search into the records of
the last hundred years it is quite comforting to discover that
this popular notion is exaggerated and incorrect; that the pro-
portion of well-assorted unions, so far as such delicate material
can be submitted to investigation and statistics, is about the
same among illustrious individuals as among the commonplace
couples of our daily acquaintance. ,
It has been said that it would be better for society to let
the lord chancellor make the matches in England ; but begin-
ning at the top, if we compare the royal marriages of Europe,
which are weighed by lawgivers and made for reasons of state,
with the marriages of our own presidents, the argument is cer-
tainly in favor of personal freedom of choice. Only one life
among the presidents furnishes anything like proof of an ill
mating.
Washington and his wife have always been accepted as
models, although tiny currents of tradition have brought down
a rumor that Martha managed the Father of his Country.
Either he did not know that he was .managed or else he was
pleased with home rule, for he always wore her miniature over
his heart, and the majestic man was not of a sentimental tem-
perament.
The biographies of the two Adams presidents show that
they had helpmates of great force of character who made un-
common sacrifices for their interests. Mrs. Madison reflected a
light upon her husband's administration which has been a kind
of beacon for the succeeding ladies of the White House. Mrs.
Monroe and Mrs. Taylor were devoted wives who were con-
tent to merge their identity in the renown achieved by their
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588 Happy Marriages of Noted Persons. [Feb.,
partners. The obstinacy of Andrew Jackson has become pro-
verbial, but in the heart of Old Hickory there was always a soft
spot which yielded to any wish of his cherished Rachel.
There is equal evidence of harmony in the married lives of
Van Buren, Harrison, Tyler, Fillmore, and Pierce.
Andrew Johnson deserves special notice, for the superior
mental acquirements of his wife were a continual incentive to
his ambition. He learned the alphabet and the construction of
English sentences without her assistance, in the night hours at
his workshop in Raleigh, but the rest of his education was ob-
tained under her guidance. The later presidential marriages
are fresh in the memory of living persons and need no comment.
Among contemporary European royalties it is easy to
pick out as fortunate in their wedded lives, Victoria and Albert,
their daughter and Frederick of Prussia, the late Czar Alex-
ander and his Danish czarina, and the present kings and queens
of Denmark, Italy, and Greece, but it would not be safe to add
many other royal names of the century to the list of domestic
felicities.
Coming into another kingdom — that of creative intellect — it
is gratifying to find that a considerable number of recent part-
nerships have been thoroughly congenial on the mental and
the aflectional planes.
Philip Gilbert Hamerton, the gifted author of The Intellec-
tual Life ^ has expressed the opinion that the best possible mar-
riage for a man of genius is with an intellectual equal of sym-
pathetic aims and pursuits. His own union was of this stamp,
and his verdict carries additional weight in consequence. Re-
cognizing, however, that such an opportunity is not accorded
to every man of genius, he thinks that the second best choice
is of a woman who does not even aspire to stand upon her
husband's mental platform, but who loves and admires him,
trusts the wisdom of his undertakings enough to. make a dis-
tinct mission of securing his comfort and shielding him from
disturbing influences.
Husbands and wives of similar tastes and aims who have
become collaborateurs afford examples of the perfect mating
of both the heart and the intellect. These are " happy," be-
cause " their minds are on some object other than their own
happiness. The only chance is to treat, not happiness but some
end external to it as the object of life." This sentiment, as
far as it goes, is in harmony with the teachings of Christianity,
although it was an agnostic who gave utterance to it — John
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Stuart Mill. His wife had exerted a formative influence upon
his mind and his work in political economy for twenty years
previous to their marriage, and the treatise on "Liberty"
which he published after her death was a kind of monument
to their dual life, for they had reviewed and criticised every
sentence together.
In Edinburgh a contemporary of Mill's was equally content
with his wedded lot. Well known and appreciated in literary
circles there, his common name of William Smith was un-
favorable to a wide cosmopolitan repute. He was a con-
stant contributor to Blackwood* s^ publishing anonymously ac-
cording to the custom of that magazine. The lady of his
choice, Lucy Cummings, was also a magazine writer and a
translator. They met when he was past fifty and she past
forty, and finding in each other the ideal qualities long de-
sired for companionship, poverty did not frighten them away
from the matrimonial altar. Disclaiming even the wish for
riches, they regarded compulsory occupation as heightening the
delight of rest and leisure. They wrote for a livelihood with
their tables in the same room, enjoying their rambles and holi-
days with the pure, innocent zest of children. The influence
of a happy marriage is observable in William Smith's later
work, Gravenhurst ; it is instinct with the conviction that "good
is at the basis of all things." The memoir that Lucy Smith
wrote of him to solace her widowhood is one of the most
beautiful affectional tributes in English literature ; the attention
of the American public has been called to it recently by
George Merriam's editing of it, along with the works of William
Smith. The reader feels a sense of elevation in the calm,
clear love and trust of those united lives.
Guizot, the orator and writer, was another who became ac-
quainted with his future wife through the literary muse. Mile.
de Meulan was the brilliant editor of the Publiciste^ supporting
not only herself but an aged -mother by her pen. Her health
gave way under the burden, and in the midst of poverty,
illness, and debt she received an anonymous letter one day,
respectfully offering to supply articles for the Publiciste regu-
larly and without pay until her health should be restored.
The letter was accompanied by an article composed very much
in her own style. The kind offer was accepted, and later on
when, by means of the timely aid. Mile, de Meulan was
restored to her usual avocations, she begged her unknown con-
tributor, through the columns of the paper, to reveal himself.
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The grave, dignified young Guizot obeyed, and the result was
a marriage between them at the expiration of five years.
Mme. Guizot was the centre of the literary coteries of the day,
her celebrity^ greater than that of her husband to begin with,
kept pace with his advancement, and she was ever his coun-
sellor, critic, and friend.
A resemblance has been traced between the marriages of
Guizot and of Disraeli. A seniority of thirteen or fourteen years
existed on the side of both ladies over their husbands. It was
through Disraeli's novel of Vivian Grey that the attractive
widow destined to wear his name and honors was inspired with
a desire to know the writer.
Alphonse Daudet, on the other hand, declared that he would
never wed a literary woman ; he seems to have had a dislike to
a feminine rival in his own line. One evening, however, he
listened to a cultivated girl's recitation at an entertainment,
and all his prejudices melted away. When she became Mme.
Daudet he found her an invaluable critic and amanuensis.
Bayard Taylor and his wife were coUaborateurs. It is not
generally known that the translation of *' Faust" was largely due
to Mrs. Taylor's assistance.
Lowell's relation with his first wife, Maria White, had a
marked bearing upon his motives and his life-work. She was
herself a poetess, and in dedicating his first book of poems to
her he acknowledged his indebtedness in the concluding lines :
" The poet now his guide has found and follows in the steps
of love."
Thomas Hardy was thinking of becoming an architect, but
his wife decided him in favor of the career of a novelist, and
assumed the labor of copying his first novel in that day prior
to the typewriter. She also sent it out herself, and she keeps
in touch with current literature to save him time and trouble.
Mrs. Rider Haggard, Mrs. Eugene Field, Mrs. Robert Louis
Stevenson, Mrs. Julian Hawthorfle, and Mrs. Coventry Patmore
have been literary advisers and helpers to their respective
husbands.
Robert and Elizabeth Barrett Browning were poets who
worked along similar lines, but so far as we know did not
collaborate. The recent Orr biography only confirms the sweet
story of their wedded happiness, bringing into fuller view the
circumstances attending it. She was forty and he thirty-four
at the date of their marriage. Her experience of life had been
chiefly confined to one room, and Mr. Browning, incited by a
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pitying love, made the care and cheer of this secluded life his
mission. Her father was of the opinion that Elizabeth ought
to remain on the lounge to which a chronic spinal affection
had consigned her, and there meditate on death ; but she sur-
prised him and every one else by gaining considerable vitality
in the soft Italian climate. There must have been many op-
portunities for self-sacrifice on both sides, in the daily associa-
tion of a vigorous, society-loving man with a secluded invalid ;
but both were dominated by the higher instincts and principles,
and the sympathy between them was as perfect as can exist be-
hind the mortal veil of flesh. Browning's temperament was as
difficult to the general comprehension as his poetry has
always been, but it was a transparency to his wife. In writing
home about him she said : " He' thinks aloud with me, and can't
help himself; nobody exactly understands him except me, who
am on the inside of him and hear him breathe." He con.
sidered her poetic gift superior to his own. " She has genius,"
he said ; " I am only a painstaking fellow." To him she was
always young ; innocence, moral elevation, and want of early
contact with the world giving her face a girlish expression
even when she lay in death after sixteen years of wedded life.
Another recent poet, Tennyson, remarked of his wife that
she was the most wonderful woman in the world. She attended
to his correspondence, facilitated his work, and, possessing the
artistic faculty herself, sometimes set his songs to music.
Nathaniel Hawthorne appears to have been blest in his
choice of Sophia Peabody, largely through the difference in
their temperaments, her vivacity and optimism acting as an
emancipation to the shyness and reserve of his contained nature.
William Smith — previously referred to — said that compared to
his wife's companionship all other was a cage, and Hawthorne
had the same feeling to even a greater degree. When Sophia
left him for a few days on one occasion, at the Manse, he
resolved to speak to no human being until her return.
Our poet of nature, William Cullen Bryant, had a wife
whose delicate sense of fitness was a great aid to him.
Although she was neither literary nor intellectual, he never
wrote a poem without submitting it to her judgment, and its
success with the impartial public was exactly proportioned to
her valuation of it. After he had been married to Fanny
Fairchild twenty years he addressed to her his famous poem
on the " Future Life," as if the shadow of their eventual
separation were already coming upon him :
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"Yet though thou wearest the glory of the sky,
Wilt thou not keep the same beloved name,
The same fair, thoughtful brow and gentle eye,
Lovelier in heaven's sweet climate, yet the same?"
They were permitted to share their earth life for a long
term of forty-five years, and in his succeeding solitude his
mourning soul found vent in a pathetic tribute — "Alone with-
out Thee/'
Doubtless poets have indited odes to women with whom
they did not live in daily harmony, but Bryant was not one
of those who wrote for sensational effect ; nor yet is Henrik
Ibsen, the Norwegian dramatist. An indefatigable satirist of
existing institutions, probing the core of society with a desire
to reform it, he has no quarrel to pick with his own marriage.
From so sincere a man the following lines to Fru Ibsen afford
proof that concord and satisfaction reign at home:
" THANKS.
" Her cares were the shadows
That darkened my road,
Her joys were the angels
My pathway that showed.
" It was she that kindled
My soul to glow,
And all that I owe her
None other may know."
It is cheering, also, to be assured that Wordsworth's
"phantom of delight," the "perfect woman, nobly planned to
counsel, comfort, and command," was none other than Mrs.
Wordsworth.
The great romancer. Sir Walter Scott, had a tender heart,
but he always made an r effort to appear stoical. His sorrows
came " not like single spies, but in battalions." Soon after the
failure of his commercial speculations. Lady Scott, long an in-
valid, lay dying at Abbotsford. " I wonder what I shall do
with the large portion of thoughts which were hers for thirty
years," he wrote in his diary. "... I would not at this
moment renounce the mysterious yet certain hope that I shall
see her in a better world for all that this world can give me."
There have been some very interesting marriages on the
lines of unity in aim and aspiration among the explorers and
archaeologists of this century. Baker's young English wife
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sought with him the hidden sources of the Nile. Dr. and Mrs.
Le Plongeon met at the British Museum, each engaged in arch*
aeological research among the tomes, and they soon decided
that they would be lit companions for the wilderness cities of
Yucatan. They spent a number of years in the solitude of
those ruins, unearthing sculptures and collecting material for
the comprehensive work Dr. Le Plongeon has published lately.
Sir Richard and Lady Burton were literary comrades, he tak-
ing upon himself the more scientific part. He was the author
of some eighty books, many of them become standard ; a
scientific linguist of twenty-nine languages, a pioneer and dis-
coverer, his faithful wif^ accompanying him through twenty-six
years of travel as his secretary, aide-de-camp, and counsellor,
nobly placing her fine individual powers at his service. She
was a conscientious Catholic. Dr. Schliemann, the explorer of
ancient Troy and Mycenae, when ready to contract a second
marriage, determined to find a Greek who would talk to him
familiarly of Priam and Ulysses and quote the Iliad and Odyssey
with fluency. He made his young bride elect sign a contract that
she would learn fifty lines of the Iliad by heart every day, and
was resolute in keeping her to the letter of the agreement. In
vain during seasons of domestic strain, possibly in times of
pickling, preserving, and spring cleaning, did Mrs. Schliemann
resort to persuasion, argument, even to tears, to induce him to
retract. Finally, along with the everlasting Homeric lines she
incorporated some of the motive and spirit of her enthusiastic
husband, aiding him in his researches, consoling him in disap-
pointment, her temperamental influence always balancing his
mind in the direction of common sense.
The talented wife of Dr. Naville, the Egyptian archaeologist,
works with him, making drawings of the recovered sculptures
and piecing together disjointed fragments with wonderful skill.
Mrs. Nansen and Mrs. Peary are brave, sympathetic women
who by association have become imbued with zeal for the
cause of arctic exploration. If Mrs. Nansen does not go as
far into the frozen zone as Mrs. Peary does, she probably fears
that the presence of a woman and child would be a drawback
to her husband and to the progress of his expedition. She
does accompany him on short arctic excursions, and undergoes
a severe trial of her loyalty in testing with him the unpalatable
messes he concocts for diet out of the available resources of
those regions.
Back of all these congenial wives of intrepid modern explor-
VOL. LXVI. — 38
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594 Happy Marriages of Noted Persons. [Feb.,
ers there stands a shadowy prototype in Mrs. Christopher Col-
umbus, who was well-nigh forgotten until the search-lights of the
great Columbian exhibition were turned upon her vanishing figure
and it was recollected that she was a Miss Palestrello of Lisbon,
and her father a distinguished navigator. A large collection of
valuable charts, journals, and memoranda formed part of her
marriage dower. This brilliant, highly-educated lady was a
speculative, venturesome enthusiast on the subject of geographi-
cal exploration, which had its centre at Lisbon at that time.
As a girl she had made many hazardous voyages with her
father in strange waters, and her own drawings were used with
great profit by Columbus on the mysterious deep after she be-
came his wife. No one can say how much he owed to this
talented woman, who was constantly urging him on in the path
of discovery.
Some of the famous generals add to the record of felicitous
marriages in the nineteenth century. Field-Marshal von Moltke,
the taciturn soldier who " knew how to be silent in eleven lan-
guages," was profoundly attached to the woman who bore his
name, and the memory of this generation retains a picture of
him in his declining years carrying chaplets to her mausoleum
and meditating there fo*r hours in the quiet summer night over
his past joys.
The kind and quality of marriage advocated by Hamerton
as the second-best for a man of genius, in some cases becomes
the very best; positive natures have sought repose with nega-
tive ones since the world began, and often the creative mental
faculty needs most to be saved from wear and tear by ade-
quate domestic ministrations. There are men of a lAasterful
disposition who would be more irritated than helped by the
constant suggestiveness of an intellectual equal, for naturally
this would sometimes take an opposing attitude. From all
accounts the wives of Bismarck and of Gladstone have made
themselves " cushions " for their husbands to rest on, for ever
warding off disagreeables and easing them from the pressure of
the world on constitutional peculiarities. The two men are as
far apart as the poles, but the two women bear a certain re-
semblance to each other. The Princess Bismarck could soothe
the irate chancellor with one of Beethoven's sonatas when
words would have failed to calm the storm. At times when
there were rumors of plots to assassinate him she prepared
his food with her own hands. Mrs. Gladstone will permit no
guest to argue a point with her "grand old man," and she
would sit on the Times newspaper during an entire evening
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rather than let an article unfavorable to his policy meet his
eyes and disturb his slumbers.
The second wife of Ralph Waldo Emerson, with whom he
spent the greater part of his long life,, possessed the talent of
home-making. The visitor admitted to one of their informal
Sunday evenings at Concord carried away an impression that
the philosopher who roved the spheres had his feet on a very
comfortable and attractive spot of Mother Earth, that his own
Lares and Penates furnished him with sound and wholesome
pabulum as a basis. The pie that he liked so well to eat for
breakfast must have been well done on the under side as a
rule, -to insure clearness of mental vision, and it is questiona-
ble if the essays on " Love," *' Friendship," and " Domestic
Life " could have been written on a diet of soggy brown-
bread and greasy baked beans.
Margaret Fuller, the fellow-townswoman of the Emersons,
is believed to have been well content in her brief span of
married life with Count Ossoli, in spite of the disparity of
their years and their abilities. Much younger than herself and
possessing no marked talent, his reverential love sufficed, along
with the comprehension of the artistic temperament which is
always necessary in such companionships.
A contemporary and a woman of greater genius — Charlotte
Bronte — found satisfaction in her marriage on the range of
the affectional sympathies only, for the man whose constant
devotion won her at last had no special desire for her to con-
tinue her creative work. It is hardly probable that he would
have opposed it, however ; if she had lived, she would have
managed to make it consistent with her duties to him and to
her household. Women who are really great of soul have
always recognized the primal claim of the home and the family
if they have assumed such obligations. Mrs. Somerville, the
celebrated mathematician, never allowed her studies to inter-
fere with her chosen vocation of wife and mother.
A large majority of the persons mentioned in this paper
have " crossed the bar," and with a few exceptions the once
happy pairs have been separated by an edict irrevocable so far
as this world is concerned. The history of love is the history
of loss. One arises from the perusal and the contemplation of
the record with a realization that the human affections are but
''tents of a night," and that St. Augustine pointed out the
only existing consolation when he said, "Those whom we love
in God we never can lose."
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596 Customs, Races, Religions in the Balkans. [Feb.,
CUSTOMS, RACES, AND RELIGIONS IN THE
BALKANS.
BY E. M. LYNCH.
I.
T is a moot point if the Near East in Europe be
not more Oriental now than the East in Asia.
Persia has taken to the use of aniline dyes for
the wools in her carpets, but Bosnia has ever
remained faithful to vegetable tints, those colors
which made the charm of Persian carpets and fed the artist-
eye with bliss !
Travellers with long memories sigh that the bazaar at Stam-
boul is not what it used to be, even a few years ago, some of
the richest merchants having lately migrated to Pera, and they
groan that the Indian Presidency towns have become mere
European cities. Bombay will be still more characterless when
A Stall tn the Bazaar at Sarajevo.
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the Improvement Trust, now in course of formation, has
worked its wholesome and unpicturesque will with the remnant
of the native town ! But Sarajevo still boasts a typical bazaar,
where venders sit ** like Turks " — that is, on their own feet — on
A Serb Girl of the Orthodox Greek Church.
a carpet spread upon the floor, smoke long pipes, drink cups
of much-sugared coffee with the grounds left in, and chaffer in
a dignified, leisurely way. In the bazaar the trades are followed,
in other little booths, rectangular wooden boxes, open only
towards the crowded footway, and fastened up by padlocking
the sixth side at night. All the tailors' stalls are in one part
of the bazaar ; all the copper-smiths are hammering in another ;
each trade having, as it were, a quarter of its own. The bright
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598 Customs, Races, Religions in the Balkans. [Feb.,
leather slippers are embroidered in silk, or in gold and silver
wires, under the gaze of the interested lounger or the passer-by.
The crowd, less cleanly than eye-satisfying, eddies hither and
thither in the narrow lanes between the booths in endless
Mosque of Ali Pacha, Sarajevo.
variety of Eastern garb. Some heads are turbaned, some wear
the fez, a few have commonplace hats. Some women (the
Moslems) are wrapped in the yakmash. The Serbs have a
coquettish crimson, gold-embroidered cap, not unlike a very smart
smoking cap, set jauntily on the side of their hair, with per-
haps a long black lace scarf thrown over both cap and head.
The Spanish Jewesses wear an odd brimless hat of some rich
brocade, ornamented with needlework, and having a pendant,
dark stuff veil at the back. Peasant women have often a sort
of red turban, to which is added a white cotton cloth as veil,
and pins from which hang bunches of filigree balls. Many
display the gayest-colored neckerchiefs and aprons. Most
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of the jackets, of both men and women, are of the shape known
as "zouave." They are very often gold-braided, the ground-
color being deep red or blue. Women of all the creeds and
races wear Turkish trousers ; but the Moslem women have
besides, when out of doors, voluminous wraps that envelop them
from head to foot. All the other dresses have the dignity'^that
is inseparable from
uniform. . It is all
very well to say
'' the habit does not
make the monk," but
** fine feathers " most
certainly ** m a k e
fine birds," and the
truth comes home
to one vividly in
Sarajevo !
There is a story
current in Austria
that when, long ago,
the Emperor Francis
Joseph decided that
he would wed the
young Princess
Elizabeth of Bavaria,
instead of her elder
sister, his destined
bride, the imperial
suitor found it very
difficult to bring
home to the school-
girl princess the |
idea that she was
being wooed. One
of his expedients,
it is said, was to
show her an album
containing pictures
.of the eighteen dif-
ferent races in his
empire, each in the
appropriate national
costume, " I reign a Catholic Peasant Boy of Bosnia.
iHi
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6oo Customs, Races, Religions in the Balkans. [Feb.,
over all these different peoples," the emperor remarked.
" Would you like to reign over them too ? " And even then
the merry, somewhat " tomboyish " princess failed to detect a
*' proposal " in the words. To the eighteen races of those days
must now be added the many tribes and tongues of 'the Balkan
provinces.
Perhaps the most splendidly dressed of all his imperial ma-
jesty's subjects are the Moldo-Wallachs. There is a well-au-
thenticated story of a great Austrian reception, which is worth
telling apropos of national costumes. Generals, their breasts
covered with crosses and in splendid uniforms ; diplomats
blazing with diamond-set orders ; great ladies resplendent in
jewels that are heirlooms ; in a word, the great world en gala
was gathered on this festive occasion. Among the guests of
the emperor was the Prince of Orange — that ailing scion of
royalty dubbed by the Prince of Wales, in equivocal compli-
ment to his complexion, "Citron." A courtier was appointed
to attend the pale ** Orange," and afford him any information
he might desire. Having often asked : " Who is that, and
that, and that ? " and heard : " The famous Minister So-and-
So "; " A king of finance "; " Such-and-such a diplomatic
celebrity"; and the names of sundry South-Eastern European
princelings (the royal guest receiving each item of information
with a remark as appropriate as he could extemporize), he now
caught sight of the finest figure in all the illustrious throng.
"Who, then, is that?" he eagerly inquired. His guide an-
swered : " He is a Moldp-Wallach." " Citron " sighed : " Moldo-
Wallach ? Ei si jeune ! " The Moldavian-Wallachian was about
thirty ; therefore he had been entitled already for three decades
to wear the lordly uniform which so dazzled the Netherlandish
prince.
Most certainly these ancient habiliments, which have grown
and altered in conformity with the conditions under which their
wearers lived — have ** developed," in fact, in the Darwinian
sense — are a hundred times above the crude inventions of the
fashionable tailor ! Some have argued that utility and beauty
are one and the same. They certainly often go hand-in-hand.
But pure ornament is well to the fore in these superb dresses,
with their frequent suggestions of their origin in a past that
gloried in its barbaric splendors.
If fashionable dress were really beautiful, would it look
tawdry when a few months out of date ? Why is a fancy-ball
the entertainment at which every one is complimented upon
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1898.] Customs, Races, Religions in the Balkans. 601
A Bosnian Beggar.
"looking SO remarkably well to-night"? Why is a "fancy-
dressed " bazaar or ball the only picturesque bazaar or ball of
our time? How does it happen that all the world agrees that
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6o2 Customs, Races, Religions in the Balkans, . [Feb.,
nuns " look nice," and " look young " ? Even uniformed hospi-
tal nurses are proverbially pretty. Is it not largely due to the
ugliness of modern dress? The capped and aproned nurse
knows well enough what is most becoming to her — her working
dress or her fashionable, off-duty wardrobe.
Painters have long been saying that art must languish where
a man is " clad in five cylinders," and woman, too, is tailor-
made.
But in the Balkans colors and forms lend dignity to the
wearers of these varied traditional costumes.
(The portrait of the Bosnian Beggar is not intended as a
case in point !) '■•
Many a Spanish Jew, of whom there are thousands in Bos-
nia, if an exchange of garments were effected, would look ex-
actly like Moses of the old-clothes* shop, or Isaac the pawn-
broker; but, as he walks upon his way in Sarajevo, he is fit to
serve a mediaeval Italian master as model for one of the Three
Kings !
The gypsies form '' a state within the state " in the Balkans.
They used to inhabit the Hisseta in Sarajevo, but are now
relegated to two camps, north and south of the Bosnian capi-
tal ; and the old " Gypsy Quarter ** is now the dwelling of the
poorest of the Sarajevians. In past times the gypsies wan-
dered through the land according to their pleasure, but under
the present regime their nomad habits are discouraged. They
are made to furnish their quota of recruits for the army, to
send their boys and girls to school, and, in general, to conform
their ways to those of good citizens. Hard by, in Hungary,
Browning made one of his characters say that the gypsies were
believed to spring from the ground, and therefore they keep
upon their skins, all the days of their lives, the dark earth-
tint. The Groom in the "Flight of the Duchess" exclaims :
"Commend me to gypsy glass-makers and potters!
Glasses they'll blow you, crystal clear.
Where just a faint cloud of rose shall appear,
As if in pure water you dropt and let die
A bruised, black-blooded mulberry :
And that other sort, their crowning pride.
With long white threads distinct inside,
Like the lake-flowers' fibrous roots which dangle
Loose such a length and never tangle.
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1898.] Customs, Races, Religions in the Balkans. 603
Balkan Peasants Drinking Coffee.
Where the bold sword-lily cuts the clear waters,
And the cup-Iily couches with all her white daughters, —
Such are the works they put their hand to,
The uses they turn and twist iron and sand to ! "
I, however, have seen them mainly as musicians and dancers,
in these Eastern lands — magicians with strings and bow and
melting voice; supple-bodied and nimble-footed performers of
the Cola (peasants' dance), or threading a more theatrical mea-
sure — always strangely interesting, and as individual a people
as any race on earth.
In Bosnia, as elsewhere, gypsies concern themselves largely
with the buying, selling, and breaking-in of horses. Some
strangers in the Balkans call certain gypsies horse-dealers.
Horsestealers sounds nearly the same, and is often an equally
true description. An engineer who had made the survey for
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6o4 Customs, Races, Religions in the Balkans. [Feb.,
a projected railway in Serbia told me of an incident he wit-
nessed at a horse fair. A farmer brought in a fine young
horse — far the best animal in the fair— and was very proud of
his mount. A gypsy dealer, with one eye screwed up, and
body bent to the shape of the letter C, criticised the paces ;
saying at last : " He would be a fine horse if he were not
lame." The farmer indignantly denied the lameness.
•* Well, trot him out, and you'll see ! " said the gypsy. At
the end of this trial the owner cried, in triumph : " He could
not trot sounder."
The gypsy firmly repeated : "Lame! Gallop him, and you'll
see it, surely ! "
The man galloped his beast.
" Oh, he's lame ! " averred the gypsy. " You'd see it your-
self if another were on the horse. Let me show you " ; and
the owner alighted. The gypsy mounted, cantered a few
yards, quickened the pace, reached the end of the fair-green,
set spurs to the good horse, and promptly disappeared !
Neither man nor horse were seen again thereabouts.
"But are there no police in Serbia?" I asked.
"The gypsy got across the frontier, perhaps."
" And no telegraph wires ? " I persisted.
" Not in the forests. And perhaps, by night, the horse had
changed his color. The gypsies will buy your old white horse
from you in the morning, and sell you a rather spirited, young,
black horse in the afternoon. You will wonder that the i^ew
purchase seems to know the road home ; but by next day his
mettlesomeness will have vanished, and in a little while his
black coat will be white again." Accidents happen even to
those who are much more acute than the son of the celebrated
Vicar of Wakefield !
The trains travel through Bosnia at the modest rate of nine
miles an hour. A fine-looking countryman, with a big red
turban, gold-braided jacket, parti-colored sash, and red leather
belt bristling with knife-handles, mounted on one of the coun-
try-bred ponies, galloped for a considerable distance alongside
the express, as we glided down from the ridge of Ivan Planina,
the watershed between the Black Sea and the Adriatic, and
the dividing line between Bosnia and Herzegovina. His gallant
little steed seemed to enjoy the race. The man sat, or
rather stood — for he rode upon an absolutely straight stirrup
in front of the great wooden pack-saddle — ^that is to say, just
over the pony's withers. These saddles are put on when the
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1898.] Customs, Races, Religions in the Balkans. 605
young horses are broken in, and, in many cases, are never re-
moved till their wearers die. They are rough and cumbersome,
and, as all loads are built upon them, be they logs of wood,
sacks of flour, hay, straw, or household goods, they often gall
MOSTAR, CHIEF TOWN OF HERZEGOVINA.
the horses; but they remain in place all the same, and once
saddled, the poor beast never again enjoys that best equine
refreshment, a roll on the earth. It has been said that these
saddles, which are an essentially Turkish feature of the Bal-
kans, exactly define the limits of Moslem mercy to animals.
It has been claimed for the Turk that he is kind to his beast,*
but, if he is seldom wantonly cruel, he is generally utterly
* ** The inclination to goodness is imprinted deeply in the nature of ipan, insomuch that
if it issue not towards men it will take unto other living creatures, as it is with the Turks, a
cruel people, who nevertheless are kind to beasts." — Bacon, Quoted by Mr. Thomson, in
The Outgoing Turk. Heineman, London, 1897.
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6o6 Customs, Races, Religions in the Balkans. [Feb.,
neglectful. His kindness stops where taking trouble begins.
Care for his beast must not cause him more personal incon-
venience than is absolutely necessary.
The Balkan horses are high-couraged, as is to be expected
from animals akin to the Arab. Their owners gallop them
down the steepest hills. They climb up pathless mountains as
well as goats can climb. In a " long-distance race," lately, the
course being one hundred and seventy miles, the winning horse
covered the distance in twenty-seven hours, and died close to
the winning-post. Several of his competitors came in under
thirty-two hours.
Moslems in Bosnia are somewhat lax in their use of intoxi-
cants, as compared to their African and Asiatic co-religionists.
They drink beer, liqueurs, and spirits, but not wine. The Pro-
phet forbade wine, they say, therefore they abstain totally from
that beverage ; but beer, liquors, and brandy were unknown to
him, consequently he could not have meant to include them in
his prohibition.
To Western nations a Moslem love-match is like a contra-
diction in terms, but I learnt in the Balkans that co-urtships
are recognized. Girls go about unveiled till they marry. They
may play, as children, with their boy neighbors. There is a
slit in most of the court-yard walls belonging to Moslem houses,
and through that slit lovers may converse without outraging
the proprieties. I have seen two young people busily making
love through a small chink in an entrance-door which the girl
held ajar; and I felt certain at the time that both were Moslems.
I judged by their dress. Later, I began to doubt if I had not
seen a Serb and a Moslem maiden — the costume of the youth
not being pronouncedly Turkish. The local feeling, however,
renders " mixed *' courtships so excessively rare that I must
return to my earlier impression.
I have before me some curious Bosnian love-songs, in favor
with Serbs and Moslems alike. I have no doubt that Jews,
gypsies, and Catholics also sing them. One song runs as fol-
lows :
•' Oh ! most beautiful girl.
Don't wash your cheeks,
Lest they glitter like snow, and dazzle me ;
Don't raise your fine eyebrows.
Lest your eyes dart lightnings upon me ;
Cover your white shoulders.
Lest I break my heart for them."
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1898.] Customs, Races^ Religions in the Balkans. 607
The lines are rhymed in the original, but I doubt that the
sentiments are worth the trouble of versifying in a translation.
It was Coleridge, I think, who protested that poetic language
could not make poetry where, the thought lacked beauty !
Another popular sentimental ditty tells how " the kiss of thy
lips can even sweeten vermouth"!
A third proceeds in this toper-fashion :
"When I think upon thy red cheeks, sweet darling,
Then, my little soul, I can care for red wine only.
When your dark eyes come into my thoughts, darling,
I would not, at any price, drink other than dark wine.
In joy or sorrow I drink, sing or lament.
And I always totter home under the blessed influence of
thy love, and of wine."
Mr. Thomson says, in his admirable book. The Outgoing Turk,
that Bosnian amatory poetry is beautiful ; but I have only dis-
covered some quaint serenades, through Herr Renner's Bosnien
und die Hercegovina, which gives them in a German version.
TO A CENTURY PLANT IN BLOOM.*
BY WILLIAM P. CANTWELL.
ROM out the womb of darkness into light,
Fair flower, thou dawnest, mystery sublime !
Thou blazest on the brow of palsied time
Like morning star upon the crest of night !
Serene, thou mockest at the hurried flight
Of years, that ever flow in serried rhyme.
The century's sentinel, thou, 'tis thine to climb
And stand a watchman on th' eternal height.
And yet, frail thing, thou bloomest but to die.
Life opes the door to death, and even thou.
Like star that fadest from a morning sky,
Must to his stern decree obedience bow ;
Already- sunset on thy face doth glow.
The shadows deepen, death encompath now.
♦ Botanists tell us that some species of the century plant bloom but once, and then right
after die.
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6o8 Socialism, Altruism, and [Feb.,
SOCIALISM, ALTRUIS/VH AND THE LABOR
QUESTION.
BY REV. GEORGE McDERMOT, C.S.P.
HE decision of the Law Lords on the appeal of
Allen vs. Flood and Taylor must have an im-
portant influence on the action of English trade
unions with respect to contracts between em-
ployers and workmen ; even though the decision
seems to have turned upon the facts rather than the law of
the case. The judgment seems to sustain the principle, that the
oflficer of a union may without incurring any liability get a
workman dismissed, if it be not proved that his interference
was prompted by malice. That is reaching high-water mark
indeed, and shows what an extent has been traversed since the
time when any action of the kind would bring the executive
members, if not the whole union, within the law of conspiracy.
The interest of the decision is of supreme importance to trade
unions in this country, though its legal authority may have no
power upon them. It would, certainly, be cited in a dispute
between a union and employers in an American court, as Ameri
can cases are cited in English courts ; in addition, its moral
effect might not be the most salutary if it should tempt unions
to interfere in contracts of employment in ah arbitrary man-
ner. The friends of working-men are alive to the danger likely
to accrue to their interests if persons acting on their authority
should wield powers to control industrial enterprise without the
greatest forethought and the widest grasp of interests. A vic-
tory for labor such as this English case should be regarded as
a warning quite as much as a cause for congratulation. Speaking
in the interests of working-men, while we rejoice in the decision in
the individual case, we fear it ; we are alarmed at the possible
consequences unless the working-men are conscientious to the de-
gree of delicacy in judging that a demand should be made, and
moderate to an extreme degree in enforcing it. Such modera-
tion might be thought the constant consequence of the con-
scientiousness we speak of. It would not always follow, in the
case of individuals even — it is hardly to be looked for in the
case of bodies of men.
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1 898 J THE Labor Question. 609
It is not wise policy to kill the goose that lays the golden
eggs. Let it be remembered that during the presidential elec-
tion threats to shut up shop were used by men fearing, or else
pretending to fear, that the election of Mr. Bryan would de-
stroy the entepprises in which their money was invested. It
may be unlikely they would have done so, but the possibility of
their doing so had an untold influence on the election. Work-
ing-men were compelled to realize the fact that only a day or a
week stands between their families and starvation. It is all very
well when employment is enjoyed, when the wages are coming
in freely, to talk about inherent rights of labor — the right to
** a living wage," which is interpreted to mean good clothes,
good food, short hours, high education, varied recreation and
travel. But the power to talk about them, at least with any
claim to attention, depends upon employment ; employment de-
pends on trade and industry, and these on credit to a large ex-
tent. But there is nothing so sensitive as credit ; a breath
may destroy it. A 'change of market or of fashion may strike
an industry. Then whence are the inherent rights to be gratified?
From what sources will they come if mills are closed or kept
at work only half time ? Among the . influences which might
cause the termination or seriously check, the employment of
capital is an employer's fear that he cannot trust his workmen.
If a merchant or, manufacturer should discover that his ware-
house or factory was in proximity to a union with a talent for
the organization of strikes, he would soon change his locus in
quo ; or if he could not conveniently find a new locality, he
would gradually draw in his expenditure in order to give up
business before being ruined. No one except an altruist or re-
volutionary socialist would blame him for saving himself.
THE JARGON OF " ETHICAL " DILETTANTI.
Our sympathy with the working-man is genuine. We base
his rights on something different from the "ethics" of altruism
or the equality of socialism, as this last is ordinarily understood.
The first is the jargon by which speculative friends of humanity
— in university chairs or with the command of a review, a maga-
zine, or the fatal confidence of a book publisher at their com-
mand — send out opinions without wisdom, among which is this :
that the evils which afflict society are due to the want of the
highest education on the part of the masses, and the want of
humanity on the part of the classes. Of these accomplished and,
in their way, well-meaning men we should like to ask the ques-
VOL. LXVI.— 39
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6io Socialism^ Altruism, and [Feb.,
tion, Would you be prepared, would any one of you be pre-
pared, to make the sacrifice of a little finger for the people?
When "the grim Earl" of Coventry mocked his wife with
such a taunt, her answer, that she would give her life for "such
as these," supplied the proof that her sympathy was not the
platitude of an elegant benevolence free from responsibility
and incapable of being tested, a benevolence theoretical, socio-
ethical, rhetorical, all but rhapsodical. Hers prccecded from a
knowledge higher than that of lecturers, professors, and statis-
ticians, and a love unlike the figment of philanthropy which
makes their knowledge a maze of words. But we do not wish
the working-man should be led a dance either by the dilettanti
of economics with their " ethics," no more than by the revolu-
tionary socialists with their equality ; and, therefore, we say
things which may sound harsh to him, but all our severity lies
in a desire to dissipate the mists raised by the magicians of
sophistry and to put things in the cold light of truth.
THE LAFARGUE FORMULA.
It will not be denied that Paul Lafargue has a title to speak
for French socialism. He earned it ; he was one of the men
who fomented the disturbances of the Commune and, leaving
his dupes to their fate, fled from what he calls " the mad fury
of the victorious reactionaries." He sends forth, with the seal
of high but provisional approval, the formula we are about to
quote at some length. It was issued by the Marseilles Con-
gress of Socialists in 1889. We could not omit the argumen-
tative recitals. They imitate the preambles of legislation and
prove the framers* fitness for government. " Property is the
s )cial question. Seeing that the present system of property is
opposed to those equal rights that will condition the society of
t'lc future : that it is unjust and inhuman that some should pro-
duce everything and others nothing, and that it is precisely the
l.itter w'li J hive all the wealth, all the enjoyment, and all the
j>rivilegc : seeing that this state of aflairs will not be put an
eniJ t«» by the good-will of those whose whole interest lies in
its continuance: the congress adopts as its end and aim the
collective ownership of the soil, the subsoil, the instruments of
labor, raw materials, and would render them fqr ever inalien-
able from that society to which they ought to return." But
neither he nor his associates were satisfied with this pronounce-
ment, because it has a sufficient degree of .sanity to recognize
'at the society of confiscation is not yet an accomplished fact.
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1898.] THE Labor Question. 611
It was accepted provisionally by him and by Guesde, Marx, and
Engels, as the congress was not sufficiently ripe, as socialist
opinion outside their own select circle was not sufficiently ripe,
to declare that the robbery called property no longer existed.
They could wait with confidence for the growth of an opinion,
witnessing as they had the change which, step by step, passed
over the congresses of French working-men. In the forties
very few would support the opinion that there was no pro-
perty in land ; very few wpuld seem to limit the extent to
which property in land might be held, and the value of such
property in the shape of buildings and machinery. Then came
the co-operative ideas of the Congress of Paris in 1876, for
which, of course, the brilliant quartette just named above en-
tertained a profound scorn. They have no better name for it
than the bourgeois convention. Marx and Lafargue condemn
its programme as thinly disguised capitalism, and oh ! how
grievous it is to think that Guesde, the editor of the ^galiU^
should for five years have* eaten the bread of exile in order
that working-men should issue such a programme! But really
it was in the power of that martyr of the proletariat to have
avoided eating the bread of exile ; nay, he not only could but he
would have done so, if he had possessed a particle of the courage
of the wretched creatures whom his writings had inflamed to
the inconceivable wickedness of turning on the . defenders of
their country in the presence of the victorious foe.
COLLECTIVISM THE CHILD OF CAPITALISM.
To a certain extent one can approve of the contempt of
these leaders of French revolutionary socialism, Lafargue and
Guesde, for the moderate socialism of 1876 — that is to say, one
is witli them so far as they despise the empty phrase-making
of the lime. We do not mean that the total destruction of
property involved in the denial of the principle of private pro-
perty is les^ injurious than the qualified denial of it. But we
get ijupiticnt when men talk away about liberty, equality,
frriccrnicy, as preparatory to a solution of the labor question.
The rights of man, whatever they are and whether they are in-
herent or acquired, whether they are concessions frorq one su-
preme authority or spring from the social contract of Jean-
Jacques or the principles of the English Revolution as inter-
preted by Locke — these rights have no more to do with an
eight hours' labor-day or the standard of wages than they have
to do with the precession of the equinoxes. As one might ex-
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6i2 Socialism, Altruism, and [Feb.,
pect, Marx and Engels, when the time came, framed definitions
and demands that could be described as the strong meat for
men. They had seen the growth from early innocence to adult
wisdom. Co-operation was left aside, as private property had
been left aside, to make way for the principle of collective
ownership of the soil and the instruments of labor; but this
last must be regarded as an existing fact and not an outcome
of the condition of society in the future. How is it an exist-
ing fact? might well be asked, for the capitalist is there as
rampantly aggressive as ever, except so far as he is checked
by a trade union. The answer is bold, striking, and original :
collectivism is brought into being by capitalism in its most ex-
treme form. The evangelists of collectivism declare that mo-
nopolies or trusts contain in their bosom the elements of col-
lectivist society ; that by the extinction of small capitalists,
which is the tendency of capitalist society, collectivism is the
owner of the soil and the instruments of labor. We fail to see
how this has improved the working-man's position one iota,
although it is the latest exposition of the principles by which
the world is to be reformed.
WHY NOT BE LOGICAL? ^
As valuable in their results are the views of the ethical
schools of social adjustment. It has been said that co-opera-
tion was condemned by the advanced socialists as veiled capi-
talism ; it has been just said that extreme capitalism, according
to their view, is accomplished collectivism. Then, on their own
principles, they should approve of co-operative undertakings as
a department of the administration of the collectivist state.
To those who are so blind as not to see that the collectivist
state is in possession, this admission of extreme socialists may
serve as a justification for their own view of the measures
needed to amend the circumstances of laboring life. For the
same reason, even though we express no opinion on co-opera-
tive schemes as a solution of the problem, we consider that
the exponents of socio-ethical schools might, with advantage,
descend to the level of intelligible thought. If one were to
take these philosophers at their word, he would expect to sec
at any moment an era when * all men should possess equal
talent, health, wealth, and happiness. How this evolution is to
be compassed they do not tell us. Where does the wealth of
any people come from ? The advantages which are to be ob-
tained in the millennium of the professors of philanthropy, of
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1898.] THE Labor Question. \ 613
the collectors of statistics upon all kinds of subjects, from the
number of gallons of water supplied to each inhabitant of a
city to the figures upon which the imperial and local taxation
of a great country is estimated — these advantages, we say, must
come from land and labor. The productiveness of both is
limited. It is out of the surplus which remains after the cost
of production and distribution has been paid that government
is to be carried on and that every mouth is to be fed. If these
speculators in humanity, these prophets of harmonious sen-
tences, would only remember that an improvement in the con-
dition of the laboring classes to any considerable extent would
mean a reduction of the profits on, if not the confiscation of
capital, there might possibly be some hesitation in expressing
their opinions as to the claims which altruism sanctions. What
moral principle requires any man to give what is his to an-
other? What right has any man to be fed and clothed at the
expense of another unless the moral principle be based on a
duty which each owes to each ? It cannot be really meant that
altruism is a duty. We know how a duty would arise to one's
neighbor, but it is not by means of a transformed instinct.
Yet this feeling, which is expressed by the words benevolence,
philanthropy, kindness — all forms of a developed principle of
attachment, if we believe those thinkers — is not only an ethical
one but the source of all the moralities which rule in the home
and in society at large. That is to say, that the whole moral
code is the expression of inherited gregarious instincts transcen-
dentalized into ethical relations. Even so, there is not one
scintilla of obligation, because duty, which is the law of life,
cannot be referred to a physical organization ; the word oblige
has no significance unless there is a duty imposed which com.
pels obedience ; there are no ethical relations in the senses,
unless we think that in the wild common of nature the lion
feels bound to lie down with' the lamb.
ALTRUISTIC PHILOSOPHY IN A WORLD OF UNALTRUISTIC MEN.
Take away the words used above and substitute for them
the charity of Christ, and we think light shall come into the
darkness with which the problem of labor has been involved
for the last three centuries ; first, through an exaggerated spirit
of selfishness called individualism ; second, by the crude theories
of men who seek to be lighted by the farthing candle of their
own understandings, instead of seeking illumination from the
full orb which diffuses it with brightness beyond the sun's*
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6i4 The Labor Question. [Feb.,
Of course it is impossible, in the condition of the world, that
there should be no sordid poverty. If one takes this great
country as an instance, with all the blessings it enjoys, it will
be found that if its wealth of all kinds were equally divided
among the people, young and old, this would give about five
thousand dollars to each family, or a thousand to each head of
the population. This would mean the breaking up of fixed
forms of wealth ; but suppose it did not, and that sociological
benevolence on the one hand, or socialistic spoliation on the
other, were to administer it as trustees for the whole, to what
extent would the greatest number of laboring persons be
benefited beyond their present state? The interest on a
thousand dollars is $60 a year; but this is a small income for
each person ; or take it on the $5,000 for the whole family, the
interest would be $300 a year. For the average working-man
such an income would afford no improvement on existing con-
ditions. But what is to be said concerning those whose occupa-
tions depend on the habits, social or aesthetical, of the wealthy ?
How is art to find patrons? There is no advantage in follow-
ing the fallacy involved in collectivism to its issue. It would
seem, in view of the absurd consequences flowing from such
a division of income as it demands, if it means anything at all,
that the existing system, by which employer and employed
form branches in the work of production, is the only one possi-
ble for continuance ; that collectivism on the one hand, if it
stepped in to administer wealth, would soon cause it to dis-
appear; while the sweet reasonableness of altruistic philosophy,
if taken from the lecture hall to enforce its theories in a world
of unaltruistic men, could only realize that conception of a
state in which wise men would be the inmates of asylums for
the insane.
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1898.] The Station Mass. 615
THE STATION MASS.
BY DOROTHY GRESHAM.
jNLY a week from Christmas, and Aunt Eva,
Kitty, and I are on our way, by our usual short
cuts, to tell Mrs. Ryan that we are coming
to the Station on the morrow. I am getting
along quite famously this afternoon, so much so
that Kitty looks at me surreptitiously now and again, but says
not a word. Aunt Eva is an old campaigner. All her life she
has roamed the hills, and to-day, despite her fifty golden years,
she puts me to shame with her light, active step. Our present
little stroll is only eight miles, but she thinks nothing of it.
A few weeks ago I should have emphatically refused to walk,
and insisted on riding Princess Maud ; but at last I have im-
bibed Irish ways, even with the turf smoke. To tell you a
secret, I have perpetrated a pair of shoes a la Kitty's — an
ordeal, I must confess. There wfere none in the village to suit
me, and as pair after pair were tried and found wanting, I
felt so humiliated that my feet, erstwhile my pride, seemed
now my shame and degradation — and was only saved from
eternal disgrace by an old cobbler, who thought he could make
me a pair. He did, leaving them a size too large — " for im-
provements"! When first introduced I viewed them with won-
der, but familiarity is everything, and after a few private
rehearsals I came to the conclusion that there was nothing
after all like home manufacture. I swing along now with a
Kitty-like air, my head aloft, as if eight miles were — well, just
a nice little exercise.
The road never seems so short as when enlivened by Aunt
Eva's bright stories and sly sallies. She has read everything*
knows everything, and Kitty and I are never satisfied without
her. Her heart and mind are always youthful and buoyant ;
she enters into all our interests and pleasures, she sees the
good and pleasant side in everything and everybody. She has
a gay smile for the people we meet. They brighten at her
coming,*and . she has a way of making men, women, and chil-
dren show their very best when she speaks to them. It is one
scene of happiness and mirth and sunshine from the time we
leave home till our return. As we go through the village
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6i6 The Station Mass. [Feb.,
every head is at the door, every voice cries a loving greeting,
even* the babies in arms join the general chorus.
We reach Mrs. Ryan's, shut in by the woods, the blue
smoke drifting through the trees, the dying sun flashing on the
old farm-house, turning the yellow thatch into gold, and peep-
ing through its latticed windows for a warm good-night, as it
slowly sinks behind the mountains. Through the open gate we
go to the wide, comfortable farm-yard, with its long clamps of
turf on one side and lofty hayricks on the other. There is a
clean, fresh, washed look everywhere, in preparation for the
Divine Guest of the morrow, and the neighbors who, though
miles away, will gather to give Him a joyous welcome. Little
Dymphna stands on the door-step, and seeing us, comes for-
ward, her hand over her eyes in pretty shyness. Kitty catches
her with a bound and carries her in triumph to the house,
where we are received with whole-souled rapture — Aunt Eva,
as becometh a dearly loved queen. The best chair is brought
forward, and mother and daughters gather around her with a
hundred endearing - questions. Kitty is in the midst of the
little ones, Dymphna by universal consent, as the baby, holding
first place at the .meeting, and I, as the bashful stranger, look
on the scene so picturesquely beautiful, so peculiarly Irish.
The house is low «nd rambling; an immense, wide, hand-
some flagged kitchen, with diamond-shaped windows looking
out on the garden, half vegetable, half orchard, with a sunny
corner for Grace's flowers. Off the kitchen open three or four
bedrooms, and above is the loft for the farm-boys. The hearth
is a study, deep and roomy, with huge piles of turf throwing
their cheery, pleasant flicker on the shining flags, dancing in
and out, through the whitest and brightest of china, on the
old-fashioned dresser. At one end a table stands ready for the
altar, the basket with the vestments having just been sent from
the farm where yesterday's station was held. Kitty's eyes fall
on it, and she asks Mrs. Ryan if she may arrange the altar, and
so save Father Tom some time for his morning's confessions.
We go to work, Grace and Couth lending willing hands. From
small beginnings we develop into decorations. Lace curtains,
evergreens, and leaves are pressed into the service, and in an
hour we have, to our own eyes, graind results. A recess at one
end holds the altar — the kitchen table. The wall we drape
in white, with a water-fall of lace as a border, the whole
caught up with holly and ivy. An old family crucifix is sus-
pended above, the large white figure showing effectively on the
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1898.] The Station Mass. 617
ebony wood. With the assistance of blocks for the flowers,
and candles on the altar, we succeed admirably. Kitty
arranges the altar-stone and vestments with the familiarity of
an old sacristan, and when all is complete we stand at a dis-
tance and admire. The effect is really very pretty — a soft white
mass, with wreaths of ivy and clusters of red berries, the sad,
sweet, pathetic Figure on the cross between ; below, the altar
crowned in great bunches of laurel and holly, with chrysanthe-
mums here and there to brighten the coloring. On either side
of the altar two windows look out on the mountains, shedding
a subdued, restful light on the whole.
We are proud of our work, and Mrs. Ryan and Aunt Eva
go into ecstasies, declaring that the priests will be amazed
when they arrive in the morning. It is later than we expected,
and we hurry homewards. Kitty is seized with anxiety as to
my welfare, wondering how I shall stand the return brisk
effort. She need have no fears, however. I step out like a
Trojan. Half way back she suspects something has changed
me, for she cries roguishly, •* Dolly, where are your American
rubbers? "
" Gone a-begging," is my resentful response.
" Sensible girl ! " with a wise shake of her head. " I knew
we would teach her better."
But I vouchsafe no remark.
Through the fresh, keen air we drive next morning and
arrive at the Station to find the priests hard at work. The
bedrooms are the confessionals, the kitchen the chapel ; the
women are kneeling before the altar. A great fire roars up
the chimney, and there is a solemn stillness over everything.
In the farm-yard and around the door, every one apart, buried
in their prayer-books, the men are preparing for confession,
evidently a matter of much thought. In and out they go,
kneeling before the altar until it is their turn to be heard.
Father Tom says the first Mass when his penitents- are almost
finished, the curate hearing meanwhile. I wish I could give
some idea of that Station Mass in the kitchen, so strange and
hew, so wonderfully devotional. It is like a peep at the
Catacombs, a glimpse of the early Christians, a scene of the
penal days when their forefathers gathered by stealth for the
Mass in the mountains !
A thousand hallowed memories come crowding on me as
my eyes fall on the bowed head of the old priest at the altar,
the sunlight softening his white hair and worn, holy face. I think
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6i8 The Station Mass. [Feb.,
of the dread days when others like him, of his own blood and
kindred, were chased like wolves through these same moun-
tains — nay, that even the very ground I now kneel on may be
sanctified by the blood of martyrs ! I pray as I have never
prayed. There seems something in this truly Catholic scene
that stirs me to my very soul. No wonder the Irish are pious,
no wonder they are pure ; no wonder they to-day are, as they
have ever been, in the most distant climes, missionaries of the
grand old faith !
The Mass continues. With deep reverence the communicants
advance after the Domine^ non sum dignuSy Mrs. Ryan and her
two stalwart sons leading off; then, two and two, men and
women approach with bowed heads to receive Him whose de-
light it was to be with the lowly. It is a glorious sight and
brings tears to my eyes, and the mountains fling back rosy
smiles through the latticed windows as the sun climbs above
the peaks with youthful joybusness. The first Mass is over,
and as the old priest goes to the confessional the young curate
takes his place at the altar. A second band of communicants
at this Mass, and then it is over — but, no ! not yet. Father
Tom appears at a little table, a large open book before him,
and in a loud voice reads the name of each householder. The
one named comes forward and gives an account of each mem-
ber of his family, those present at the Station, those absent
and why, naming a day through the week when they shall at-
tend at the next station in the neighborhood, and so on down
to the last name on the listf I am astonished at this beauti-
ful spirit of humble faith and the wonderful government the
parish priest has over the souls committed to his charge. In
speaking of it on the way home, Aunt Eva tells me the same
rule is observed in the towns and villages ; but there the peo-
ple go to the churches, the householder remaining after Mass
to give an account of his stewardship. Simple Ireland, prayer-
ful Ireland, holy Ireland ! Is there any country in the world
so faithful to the first Christian traditions, so true to her God,
so loyal to her Church, so strangely unworldly ?
And now comes the social side. Mrs. Ryan and her boys
go among the congregation as they file out the door, insisting
on their breakfasting at the farm-house — and Irish hospitality
flourishes in right royal style ! We steal away^-edrfi-ed and de-
lighted, out into the bright sunshine. Driving homewards. Aunt
Eva reads us a lesson on the scene of the morning, bidding us
look to our faith and compare it with all we have seen and heard.
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1898.] Ave, Leo Pontifex ! 619
AVE, LEO PONTIFEX !
MORITURI TE SAlVTAMUS.
" Justice I sought; and toil and lengthened strife,
And taunts and wiles, and every hardship, life
Have burdened. I, Faith's champion, do not bend ;
For Christ's flock sweet the pain, sweet — life in bonds to end."
Leo XIII.
[AILl champioli of the Faith, whose bea-
con light,
Held high in trembling hands, illumes
the world
With such a blaze as ne'er before hath shone,
E'en from the torch that Gregory ujpheld.
Or Pius kindled. Hark, the swelling sound
From twice a million throats ; thy children see
The signal, and in serried legpions stand
Before the mocking world ; and with one voice
Demand for thee, great Father and great Friend,
The justice which thou seekest.
Favors none
Demand'st thou, nor will have ; naught dost thou ask,
Save Caesar's debt to thee and to the Church,
His due to Peter and to Peter's Lord.
In vain the powers of hell, at Caesar's call.
Hurl their tremendous forces 'gainst the rock, —
They cannot shake it; thee they cannot bend.
Though they may break thee on the wheel of pain;
Thou count'st it joy, O Shepherd I for thy flock
To suffer, and for them to die in chains.
And they? Great Pontiflf, through the years gone
past.
Thy sons have fought, and bled, and died for thee ;
Thy dsLUghters battered at the gates of Heaven
With rain of tears.
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So, in the years to come,
May God in mercy spare thee, thou shalt see
The promised land, as high on Pisgah's mount
The Patriarch Moses viewed the gift of God I
For, know, thy sons shall conquer through thy might,
Even as thou hast conquered ; hear the cry :
*' Hail, Leo, we about to die salute thee I "
Through all the weary years be this thy solace,
God's Love, thy sons' courage, and thy daughters*
tears. TerESA,
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1898.] The Recollections of Aubrey de Vere. 621
THE RECOLLECTIONS OF AUBREY DE VERE.
BY I. A. TAYLOR.*
^O many of the readers of The Catholic World
the name which heads this paper will long
have been a household word. There are men
known to the public by their acts, by the books
they have written, the services they have ren-
dered to their country or to the world, but whose personality
is, as it were, of no moment — who are voices, it may be, or even
useful automatons, but no more. There are others around
whom an interest clings almost like that of a friend, though a
friend whose features are unknown and whom we should pass
unrecognized in the street, in whose case it would seem no ex-
travagance though we should put on mourning when we hear
that they are gone. Such was, among those who are passed away,
Robert Louis Stevenson ; such is one who, happily, is still among
us — Aubrey de Vere.
The friend of Cardinals Manning and Newman, the disciple
of Wordsworth, the associate of most of the well-known men
of the century which has almost reached its end, he is a con-
necting link of the present with the past, one of the solitary
survivors — does he find it, one wonders, a little lonely? — of the
notable group of world-wide reputation which counted among
its members such men as Tennyson, Southey, Sir William
Hamilton, Lord Houghton, Henry Taylor, Landor, Coventry
Patmore, and many others.
A few more years, and we shall hear no more of these
men at first hand ; there will be no eye-witness left to describe
Wordsworth as he knelt at prayers, his face hidden in his
hands — " that vision," Mr. de Vere says, " is often before me "
— to tell of the tears which coursed down O'Connell's old
cheeks as he repeated Moore's verses on the death of Emmet
to his childish fellow-travellers ; to set before us Newman and
Manning with the familiar touches of a personal friend. And
those especially who have not enjoyed the privilege of hear-
ing his recollections from his own lips may well be grateful
that they have been thrown into a permanent form and thus
secured to posterity.
* The interest of this paper is enhanced by the fact that its author is a cousin of the poet.
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622 The Recollections of Aubrey de Vere. [Feb.,
Mr. de Vere has been careful to emphasize the fact that
in the present volume he presents to the public a series of
Reminiscences, more or less fragmentary and detached, rather
than anything which might claim to be a complete, auto-
biographical record. He had no wish to tell his own story.
" Self," he observes in his preface, "is a dangerous personage to
let into one's book. He is sure to claim a larger place than
he deserves. in it, and to leave less space than their due for
worthier company." This is a question of relative values, upon
which opinions will probably differ. But whatever may be
the intention with which a man sets out, his reminiscences,
the record of the events he has witnessed, of the men and
women who have been his friends, of the changes which have
taken place during his life-time in societies and nations, will, in
point of fact, come near to being an autobiography. Nor are we
likely to quarrel with it upon this account. When a man writes
of himself he writes of that with which he is best acquainted,
even though in some singular instances, the humility of the
writer taken into account — it is possible that the present is
one — it may not be the subject in which he takes most in-
terest ; and when, furthermore, the personality with which we
are brought into touch is of such a kind as that of Mr. de
Vere, his readers are more likely to complain that it is kept
overmuch in the background than that it occupies too promi-
nent a place.
HIS CONTINUITY OF CHARACTER.
In spite, however, of his disclaimer, and incomplete though
the record remains, with gaps here and there, and not a
few blanks which we should willingly see filled, it is possible to
form a clear enough conception of the writer of these Recol-
lections. A unity prevails throughout to an altogether singu-
lar degree. - Allowing for the changes necessarily produced by
the lapse of years, the same characteristics are everywhere ap-
parent ; as boy and man, in his younger and older age, the
same features appear, the same personal charm is unconsciou-Iy
revealed ; the same capacity for hero-worship and for idealiza-
tion of those he loved, the same leniency where individuals
are concerned, combined with a certain severity when it is a
matter of opinions; the same humility, carrii-d ;i|iii<»s>t to ex-
travagance, the same gentle gaiety touched with Irisli luiinor,
and the same tenacity and constancy <»f affect it>u. To have
been once admitted to the circle of his friends has been to
enjoy the title for ever. This note of continuity — one of the
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1898.] The Recollections of Aubrey de Vere. 623
most marked in the book — is not an altogether common one.
There are those who, to use the words of St. Paul in a sense
different to that of the Apostle, die daily. The man of
yesterday makes way for the man of to-day, and the man of
to-day is as quickly replaced by his successor of to-morrow.
Friends, faiths, opinions, interests, all shift, in the same way
that the colored glass in a kaleidoscope perpetually takes new
forms. Nor will it be denied that there attaches to these
chameleon-like characters an interest of their own — an element,
so to speak, of unexpectedness ; we watch with curiosity for the
next development. But we do not choose such men for our
friends. To be reliable is an essential attribute of friendship,
and this quality is as wholly absent in their case as the kindred
one of repose. In Mr. de Vere we have a conspicuous example
of the opposite character. What he was in boyhood he re-
mained as man, those changes which supervened being merely
the outcome of a necessary development and growth.
THE POET MUST BE STUDIED AGAINST HIS PROPER BACK-
GROUND.
Outward circumstances were favorable to this continuity. A
younger son, the home of his boyhood, the old house where
he had been born, though never his own property, has never-
theless remained his home throughout his ^ong life. " I see
from the window at which I write," so he says in the preface
to this volume, " the' trees which we used to climb together as
boys." The quiet atmosphere of this green and pleasant
place, far distant from the noise and hurry of the life of cities,
the influence of the leisure enjoyed in the stately house sur-
rounded by its miles of demesne'^ ajul the iffect of its tradi-
tions and of the feudal relationships which liad, till clwinges came,
existed between landlord and ttn*ir.ti\, nic ;ii p;iit i.i i\ci}\\hcre.
To gain a just view of the man the backgionnd .sl.ouUl never
be forgotten. He has, it is true, bcui no rcclusf, n<» lit unit.
Year by year, with a reguKirity which has la.sinl the ^icaiir
part of a life-time, he quits liis j^ricn and tranquil country
abode to cross the Channtl, to seek in Enj^lantl ihc society of
his old friends, and to open his hcait. in a Usscr degree, to them ;
but it is in the soclusiou of the wc>t of Ireland that he is at
ho»ne, thdt probably tlircefourihs of his life has been passed,
and that his poetiy has been written ; and there, with old
memories everywhere around him, his days are spent scarcely
less in the past than in the present.
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624 The Recollections of A ubre y de Vere. [Feb.»
IRELAND SEVENTY YEARS AGO.
Among the most attractive portions of the Recollections are
the opening chapters, dealing not so much with public events,
nor with the celebrated men and women with whom he was
subsequently brought into contact, as with this old Irish home,
with the Ireland of seventy years ago, now irremediably vanished,
and with the De Vere family itself. In these pages is drawn,
with a poet's brush, the picture of Curragh Chase. " I always
see it," he says, " bathed as in summer sunshine *' — also, per-
haps, gleaming in that light which never shone on sea or shore,
the radiance of that perished childhood which some of us count
among the bitterest of our losses. And in that light he sets
it before his readers, with its broad deer park, the slender
stream, and fair green hills, the brakes of low-spreading oaks
and birch, the smooth lawns, and the opening in the wood
where on Sunday evenings the peasants gathered to dance;
and last of all one catches sight of the little looker-on at the
revelry, who after close on eighty years has not yet forgotten
his vexation at finding himself snatched up and carried off to
bed by one of the •* merry maids " who were joining in the
dance. It is a picture full of sunshine and jollity, and the
little poet's eyes noted it faithfully.
Other details impressed themselves upon his childish imagi-
nation : his grandmother, with her four gray horses and her
outrider, and her beautiful and melancholy eyes; and his father,
with his corresponding four black horses and his outriders, the
sedate and genial Irish gentleman.
Nor is the picture of the country itself in those distant days
less vivid in its coloring. It is said that it is the first impres-
sions which produce the strongest effect, and possibly it is for
this reason that the sketches drawn of Irish life are more gra-
phic in the earlier than in the later portion of the Recollec-
tions. Possibly, also, Ireland has shared in that loss of individ-
uality which modern civilization, increased facilities of commu-
nication, and the development of the imitative faculty, has
brought to society in general. Again and again there are pre-
sented to us figures which it would be difficult to find in any
other country or period ; such as the friend and neighbor of the
poet's father, who to satisfy an old grudge against Sir Aubrey's
uncle, Lord Limerick, and to fulfil, after many years, a vow of
vengeance, rode into Limerick at election time at the head of
his tenantry and voted against his friend. Possibly Sir Aubrey,
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1898.] The Recollections of Aubrey de Vere. 625
himself an Irishman, recognized the point of honor involved in
the transaction, for the friendly relations between the families
continued undisturbed; and Mr. de Vere relates how, at a later
date, he watched the old man in question walking up and down
the library of the De Veres, his hands behind his back and
his white hair streaming over his shoulders, and repeating :
" It is a great thing to be able to look back on a long life,
and record, as I can, that never once did any man injure me
but sooner or later I had my revenge."
It was, in fact, the exhibition, in the individual, of that vin-
dictive spirit of retaliation traditional in the race, which was
the animating principle of the faction fights between the peas-
antry. Of one of these faction fights a graphic picture is given,
the part played by priest and people in it being particularly
characteristic. The two opposing bodies of men were facing
VOL. LXVI.— 40
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626 The Recollections of Aubrey de Veke. [Feb.,
each other, ready for the fray, when the priest rode along the
line, dismounted, and, kneeling in the midst, made, in the name
of God, his solemn protest against the impending bloodshed.
*' They thanked him with great reverence " and then requested
him to take his departure, which he did, meeting a magistrate
who was also helplessly watching the proceedings in great agi-
tation. "I pitied him," said the priest, ''and desired him not
to take on in that way, since there was no help for it."
Side by side with this picture stands another scene, wit-
nessed by one of the family — the scene of a ** reconciliation,"
the ending of a feud. The two gray-headed leaders met in
the church, silent, sullen ; they reluctantly clasped hands, and
then " the next moment one of them dashed himself down on
the stone pavement, and cried aloud, * O my son, my murdered
son ! I have clasped the hand that shed the last drop of thy
blood ! ' "
A poet's childhood.
It would be easy to linger over these early years — over the
recollections of the tutor of French extraction, who desisted
from the instruction of his ten-year-old pupil in the Latin lan-
guage, '' inasmuch as I was an idiot," recommending to him in-
stead the cultivation of the moral faculties and the tracing
of maps upon glass ; over visits to Adare (Lord Dunraven's)
and a hair-breadth escape on the hills, when the tutor's favorite
ejaculation of " Gracious Patience ! " was characterized by one
of his Irish pupils as the '' toasting of an absent friend "; but
enough has been said to indicate the character of the atmos-
phere in which the childhood of the poet was passed. "My
recollections," he says, " come to me fragrant with the smell of
the new-mown grass. . . . No change was desired by us, and
little came. The winds of early spring waved the long masses
of daffodils till they made a confused though rapturous splen-
dor in the lake close by, just as they had done the year be-
fore ; and those who saw the pageant hardly noted that those
winds were cold. . . . Each year we watched the succession
of the flowers, and if the bluebell or the cowslip came a little
before or a little after its proper time, we felt as much aggrieved
as the child who misses the word he is accustomed to in the
story heard a hundred times before." Thus Mr. de Veie him-
self sums up the character of those years, in all their unemo-
tional and impersonal sweetness, when to be alive is rapture
enough and simple existence is a delight.
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1898.] The Recollections of Aubrey de Vere. 627
It has been said that each childhood should be an Eden,
through which men and women should pass before entering
upon the troubles and cares and preoccupations of this wotk-a-
day world. Surely at Curragh Chase such an Eden was en-
joyed.
HIS FIRST FRIENDSHIP LIFE-LONG.
It was at the age of seventeen that Mr. de Vere formed the
first of those lasting and enthusiastic friendships, a combination
of Ipve and of reverence, which have been so characteristic of
him throughout his life. This first friend was Sir William
Rowan Hamilton, Astronomer Royal of the Dublin University,
a man some nine years his senior, but who was henceforth
knit to him by the closest ties of affection. To the picture
presented of the great philosopher and mathematician it is im-
possible to do justice in a paper which must necessarily confine
itself to one subject ; yet it is difficult to pass over an in-
fluence which must have been so strong. In Mr. de Vere's
opinion Hamilton still remains the man of greatest intellect he
has ever known ; while, as Christian and philosopher, brilliant
and profound in matters of scholarship, humble, courteous, and
dignified in social intercourse, he possessed from the first an
irresistible attraction for the poet and the dreamer who had
been sent to Dublin to pursue there his university career. In
the study or the garden of the great philosopher many hours
were spent. It was a home, too, brightened by children, and
a curious anecdote is given concerning the scholar's little son of
some five or six years, who, pronounced by his father too young
to be instructed in the doctrine of the Trinity, set himself to
work to master the mystery unassisted, and while spinning his
top successively evolved the four great heresies of early Chris-
tian times ! ** He discovered them all for himself," said his
father with pride. " I did not give him the slightest assistance.
What an intellect ! " It was the same child who, a year later,
asked whether he would be glad to see his father's friend,
made answer that, *' thinking of Latin and thinking of trou-
ble and thinking of God, he had forgotten Aubrey de Vere."
"THE CHILD DIED AND THE POET WAS BORN."
It was about the time that the friendship with Hamilton
was inaugurated that Mr. de Vere first began to try his hand
in earnest at verse-writing. He had lived in an atmosphere of
poetry. His father was a playwright, whose dramas, though
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628 The Recollections of Aubrey de Vere. [Feb.,
never popular, have enjoyed a considerable succH iTestime;
and under the guidance of his taste the inevitable Byronic stage
was quickly passed through, and the allegiance of the lad trans-
ferred to worthier objects — to Wordsworth, Shelley, Coleridge,
and Keats — the poets to whom it has belonged ever since. It
was the beginning of a new life. " We used to read them " —
his sister and himself — "driving about our woods in a pony
carriage. The pony soon found us out, and we had many hair-
breadth escapes. Sometimes we read them by night to the sound
of an*iColian harp, still in my possession. On one of t]j^ose
nights a boat lay on the lake at the bottom of our lawn; I
lay down in it, allowing it to flo^t wherever the wind blew it.
. . . There I lay, half asleep, till a splendid summer sunrise
told me it was time to get to bed. It was all Shelley's fault."
And so, gradually, the child died and the poet was born.
From this time forth the writing of poetry was the great
work of his life — it would not, indeed, be an exaggeration to say
that in a measure it has been his life itself, intimately and in-
dissolubly associated with the one subject, the one interest,
which took precedence of all others — religion. The value of the
work to which he has given his life's labor is an estimate which
each man will make for- himself. If his audience has not been
so large as might have been looked for, it has made up in
distinction what it has lacked in numbers, and his reputation
stands high among those of the poets of his day who have
never lowered their standard to meet the common taste or to
make a bid for popularity. If we say no more of it here, it is
because we are at present concerned with the man and not
with the poet, and we may pass on from the subject of his
writings with a quotation from the verses in which Landor,
as yet personally unknown to him, received the younger man
into the ranks of the poets :
" Welcome ! who last hast climbed the cloven hill,
Forsaken by its Muses and their God.
Show us the way ; we miss it, young and old.
Lead thou the way ; I knew it once ; my sight
May miss old marks ; lend me thy hand ; press on ;
Elastic is thy step, thy guidance sure."
DIE WANDERLUST.
To the tenacious affection with which Mr. de Vere has clung
throughout life to the home of his boyhood, he has united, to
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a marked degree, the love of wandering — a combination not
uncharacteristic of the Irish temperament. Beauty of natore,
as well as beauty of art, allured him wherever it was to be
found. The fairness of a landscape ; the grandeur of cathedral
or church ; the inner, spiritual significance and grace of old
tradition and legendary tale — all appealed to him, as poet, as
Christian, and, later on, as Catholic. Year after year, in after
life, he took his way to Rome, until such time as those events
took place after which Rome was no longer the Rome that he
had^ known, and, unwilling to disturb his earlier recollections,
he refused to revisit her.
In Switzerland, seen for the first time in 1839, ^^s love of
mountainous scenery found full satisfaction. There was some-
thing almost personal in the passionate admiration inspired in
him by the grandeur of the Swiss landscapes ; and an insult to
an Alp was resented by him, we had almost said as an insult
to himself, but it is to be doubted whether he has ever been
known to resent a personal affront.
" I pray to Heaven," said a friend of a different temperament,
when the two were travelling together — *' I pray to Heaven I
may never see mountains of this sort again." The very aspira-
tion, rightly inspired, was a tribute to the grandeur which
weighed like an oppression upon the spirits; but. Mr. de Vere
did not accept it as such. " I turned on my heel," he says,
" and walked home "; and there is something almost pathetic
in his subsequent attempts to surprise bis companion into ad-
miration of the objects of his own idolatry.
Not only Switzerland, but beauty nearer home — the English
Lake country, sacred besides as the home of the poets, Tintern
Abbey, Scotland, as well as the hills and lakes and rivers of
his own land, claimed his admiration and were woven, so to
speak, into the texture of his artistic life. The true lover of
nature is, so far as it is concerned, of no nationality. Beauty,
wherever it is to be found, is alike his possession and his
home.
HIS ASSOCIATES.
It was, however, not in the world of nature alone that he
was breaking fresh ground. Eminently social in his tastes, and
with a large and generous interest in human kind, he had the
good fortune, while yet young, to become acquainted with sev-
eral of the men and women most noted in their day; with
Wordsworth, of whom he wrote at the time, *' Mr. Wordsworth
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630 The Recollections of Aubrey de Vere. [Feb.,
is a Protestant, but the mind poetic of Wordsworth is chiefly
Catholic "; with poor Hartley Coleridge, of whom he relates a
humorous story, describing how Hartley, addressing a Protestant
fanatic, observed gravely that there were in Ireland two great
evils, " Popery and " — after listening to the other's cordial assent
— " Protestantism "; with Sara Coleridge, with whom his friend-
ship endured to her death ; while later on L.ord Tennyson,
Spedding, the biographer of 3acon, and many others were
numbered among the inner circle of his friends. With Henry
Taylor, connected by marriage with his family, he was on the
closest terms of friendship, lasting over more than forty years.
Nor were his interests confined to the world of literature and
poetry. Politics, too, claimed their share, though a lesser one,
of his attention ; he was acquainted with many of the men who
occupied a foremost position in them, and was in the habit of
attending parliamentary debates, of some of which he has given
graphic descriptions in the present volume.
AUBREY DE VERE'S CONVERSION.
But, with all this, what he would himself consider incom-
parably the chief evqnt of his life was to come. Boyhood,
youth, early manhood ; some at least of the events, the joys
and sorrows, by which a man's days are commonly italicized
were over; but it was not until the year 1851, when he was
verging towards forty and the mezzo camtni of Dante had been
already passed, that he made his submission to the Roman
Catholic Church.
The chapter which deals with this all-important event is
one of the shortest, as it is the most personal, in the volume.
In it he gives an epitome of the causes which had led him to
a decision and of the reasons by which he had been guided.
Into these causes and reasons this is not the place to enter,
opening out as they do too wide a subject and one with which
the present volume only deals in passing. The pages in which
Mr. de Vere treats of it are in themselves a summary, and
satisfactorily to summarize the summary would be an im-
possible task. It will be enough briefly to indicate the course
he had pursued and the successive changes his opinions had
undergone.
Poet and literary man as he was, all such studies had from
his youth up been dwarfed in interest by that of theology ; he
had upon conviction become a High-Churchman, and his attach-
ment, as he tells us, to the Anglican Church had been ardent
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as that of Wordsworth for his country. When, however, the
Gorham judgment was given, he did not blind himself to the
issues of the case, accepting as possible two alternatives only
— that of abjuring church principles and remaining in the
Establishment by which they had been officially repudiated,
or of joining the Catholic Church. His decision was formed
in no haste. He devoted two years to further , theological
study before taking the step which conscience pointed out,
in making his submission to Rome. Such was, in brief, the
history of his conversion. To Thomas Carlyle, his friend, he
epitomized the matter when to the remonstrances of the latter
he replied : *' I will tell you in a word what I am about. I
have lived a Christian hitherto, and I intend to die one."
A HAPPY FORTUNE.
Many changes, some salutary, some the reverse, have taken
place in the last forty-five years. Whether owing to increased
indifferentism on the part of the world at large in matters of
religion, or to a wider toleration and a growing recognition of
the right of every man to judge for himself, it is certain that
those who decide at the present day upon the step taken in
185 1 by Mr. de Vere, have not the same trials to undergo as
the converts of an earlier generation. To the last it was
indeed, in many cases, that '^ parting of friends " which Cardinal
Newman named it, a summons like that which Abraham obeyed
to go forth and seek a distant and unknown land — a call, so
to speak, to go out into the desert, a rending and tearing
asunder of the closest ties of kindred and affection.
With Mr. de Vere, however, though a portion of this he
had no doubt to suffer, it was in a modified degree. "Gently
comes the world to those who are cast in a gentle mould."
To quarrel with him would have been difficult ; tp force him
into a quarrel almost impossible ; and it is pleasant to find it
placed upon record by himself that few of his friends, deplore
as they might, and no doubt did, the course which he had
taken, altered materially their relations with him upon that
account. Some too, and those not the least loved and vener-
ated, had preceded or were to follow him into the new
spiritual country of which he had become a citizen. Two
brothers, among his own family, were with him ; Cardinal New-
man, with whom he had become acquainted while yet a young
man, remained the friend of a life-time, whom, year by. year,
as autumn came on, he would visit at Birmingham on his way
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632 The Recollections of Aubrey de Vere. [Feb.,
from the south of England to that Lake country to which he
pays the annual tribute of a pilgrimage, revisiting those places
haunted by the memories . of Wordsworth and of Southey, as
well as of friends unknown to the world, but not less dear.
With Cardinal Manning his acquaintance was of a some-
what later growth, dating from the year 1849, but it too ripened
quickly into a friendship which lasted to the end ; and if we
are not mistaken, it was by the cardinal that Mr. de Vere was
received into the church into which he had preceded him.
Lord Emly, his dear friend, and neighbor at Curragh Chase,
became a Catholic, and he was not alone or without familiar
faces in his new environment.
In the latter portion of the book the personality which we
have been sketching, and which was so dearly to be traced in
the opening chapters, shows a tendency to become more veiled
and to elude our grasp. It is a tendency we may regret, but
which is not difficult to understand. To a reserved and diffi-
dent man — and Mr. de Vere, notwithstanding a certain surface
openness, possesses that instinctive reticence which belonged
to his generation and lent to it the dignity which in a later
one is often so lamentably lacking, — to such a man it is a more
difficult matter to speak of himself when approaching the age
which he has now reached, than when it is a question of that
other and earlier self for which he scarcely feels himself re-
sponsible. Whether or not such a diffidence is accountable for
the change, we find the story becoming more fragmentary as
we advance; the showman retiring more and more out of
sight, except in dealing with subjects of a more or less im-
personal order, and the foreground being left to a greater
degree in the possession of others.
THE POET AND THE PHILANTHROPIST.
One chapter there is, however — that which treats of the
great famine — which shows him in a totally new light, and
one by which even his most intimate associates were taken
by surprise.
The De Veres were never backward in the cause of the
suffering people, whether their zeal displayed itself after the
fashion of the poet's grandfather when, coming into court and
finding that a lad, charged with murder, had no one to call as
a witness to his previous character^ he threw himself into the
breach, declaring that from the first minute he had seen the pris-
oner he had known nothing but good of him — the fact being
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that the acquaintanceship dated from his entrance into court;
or whether their sympathy was shown after the manner of Sir
Stephen, the present baronet, who, identifying himself with
the interests of the suffering population in order to qualify
himself to expose, with the force of an eye-witness, the hor-
rors of the emigration system as then carried on, accompanied
a body of emigrants to Canada as a steerage passenger.
Nor was Aubrey de Vere slow to do his part when called to
intervene between the people and the fate which awaited
them. Unused as he was to business of a practical nature,
with the peasantry famished and starving around him he was
no longer the poet or the literary man ; but, shaken out of his
dreams by the horror of the situation and the stress of cir-
cumstances, he put his shoulder to the wheel, setting himself
with all his might to alleviate the misery around, and to miti-
gate its attendant evils. In the "Year of Sorrow" — one of his
finest poems — he has left a record of that time, unexampled
for horror in the history of the period. It is by such deeds
as these that the De Veres have won their right to a place in
the people's hearts.
This paper must be brought to an end. It has been im-
possible, within so limited a space, to do anything approaching
justice to the book. Some portions of it, indeed, have been
necessarily almost ignored — the delightful humor attaching to
the descriptions of Irish life, and lightening even the tragic
side of it; the touches which so well illustrate the unique
position and character of the Irish priesthood and their rela-
tions with their flocks ; the mixture of light-heartedness and
pathos which is so eminently characteristic of that "distressful
country " — ^all this must be sought in the volume itself. Nor
has it been possible to do more than indicate the interest
belonging to the records of personal intercourse with the men
who have been the makers of history in the present century.
Our endeavor has been confined to an attempt to trace the
footsteps of the writer and to sketch, however imperfectly,
for those to whom he is only known by his writings, some of
the features of his beautiful personality.
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I am the soul of JN|ature: all iq >7ain
I craVe divorce from form. [ he Infinite
Is my inl]eritance; and yet, despite
Jvly immortality, 1 bear the bane
0f bondage. Ye drean]-spinning sons of rain —
Pierce as a fire-begotten blast 1 smite
Your hearts, demaqdiqg (grod-born ©eautys rigl]t
To liberty; yet link, ye chain on chain
lo gird n\e fast to earth, crternity!
1 cry to ye ; in answer, | am bound
In glisteririg rhymes: ye rear rx\e rainboW toils,
Ye merge nr|e into njorble slavery,
le prison me iq mighty Webs of sound —
Whilst eVer closer Time doth drag his coils!
Mary T. Waggaman.
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St. Louis protecting Religion.
— Cabanel,
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636 The True History of an Irish Cat-hedrau [Feb.,
THE TRUE HISTORY OF AN IRISH CATHEDRAL
ST, PATRICICS, DUBLIN.
HE history of St. Patrick's agrees in its main
features with that of Christ Church and other
old Irish cathedrals. Founded by Catholics
and for Catholic uses in the twelfth century, in
the sixteenth falling into the hands of guardians
who abused their trust and were supported in that abuse by
all the power of the state, torn from the unity of the church,
alienated from the ownership of Ireland, and withdrawn from
the oversight of Rome, St. Patrick's has been for nearly three
centuries and a half in the hands of Protestants, and has min-
istered in no way to the religious improvement or consolation
of the swarming population surrounding it. For many years it
was in a more or less dilapidated condition, but was taken in
hand some forty years ago by a successful Protestant brewer,
the late Sir Benjamin Lee Guinness, and renovated at a very
considerable expense. Whether this fact changes the equities
of the case in any way, or to what extent it does so, are points
which cannot be here discussed.
Tradition says that there was on the ground where St.
Patrick's now stands an old church founded by St. Patrick
himself, and called St. Patrick's "in Insula."* The little river
Poddle runs in two parallel streams past the west front of the
cathedral ; it flows now underground, but was open to the air
in the twelfth century ; and if there was a church dedicated
to St. Patrick in the space between the streams, the name " in
insula " would be sufficiently explained. The site was outside,
but near to, the city walls ; and " St. Patrick's Gate," men-
tioned in the Tripartite Life, was probably the principal south or
south-east gate of the town. This old church is said to have
been enlarged and endowed in 1191 by John Comyn, Arch-
bishop of Dublin from 1181 to 1212, who constituted it as a
collegiate church for thirteen secular canons.f
John Comyn, or Cumin, was one of those powerful Normans
* In the Tripartite Life of St. Patrick (Rolls ed., 1887) mention is made of scores of
churches founded by the saint in different parts of Ireland, but none nearer to Dublin than
the County Meath.
t Monck Mason's St, Patrick* s Cathedral^ p. 2.
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189S.] The True History of an Irish Cathedral. 637
** The Cathedral is of no great Dimensions."
through whose force of will and intellect the fame of the great
race to which he belonged was spread everywhere in Europe
in the eleventh and twelfth centuries. Having chosen the
career of a churchman, he came under the notice of Henry II.,
and was appointed one of his chaplains. As such he was em-
ployed in difficult and delicate negotiations, among which was
that which aimed at closing the quarrel between the king and
the exiled Becket. He had made progress in this great affair,
and was still at Rome, when the news came of Becket's murder.
Pope Alexander was terribly shocked ; he shut himself up, and
would see neither Comyn nor any other Englishman.* Return-
ing to England, Comyn continued to stand high in the confi-
dence of Henry II.; he was sent out once as justice in eyre,
and in 1177 ^^ went on a mission to Alphonsus of Castile.
The see of Dublin became vacant in 1181 by the death of St.
Lawrence OToole, and the king resolved that it should be
filled by Comyn. He caused a number of the Dublin clergy —
including, one may suppose, the canons of Christ Church cathe-
dral — to meet him at Evesham, and proceed to the election of
an archbishop. Giraldus Cambrensis describes what followed.f
♦ See the excellent article on Comyn in the Dictionary of National Biography.
t Expugnatio Hibemica^ ii. 24.
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638 The True History of an Irish Cathedral. [Feb.,
"At Evesham, he (Comyn) was elected with much harmony
and unanimity by the clergy of Dublin, the king's interest be-
ing employed in his favor, and at Velletri he was ordained
cardinal priest and consecrated by Lucius, the Roman pontiff.
A man of eloquence and learning — who in his zeal for righte-
ousness, and in the conscientious discharge of the dignity which
he had attained, would have raised to a glorious height the
state of the Church of Ireland were it not that one sword is
always kept down by the other sword, the priestly by the kingly
power, virtue by envy."*
After his establishment at Dublin Comyn organized the see
with great thoroughness. In 1 190, or earlier, he employed him-
self in rebuilding St. Patrick's "in Insula," as has been already
mentioned, dedicating it the next year with a solemn procession,
in which the Archbishop of Armagh and the papal legate took
part, "to God, our Blessed Lady Mary, and St. Patrick."t
Benefices and tithes were obtained, and apportioned among
the thirteen canonries ; and the arrangement was confirmed
by a bull of Celestine III., in 11914 The archbishop also
granted to his canons all the privileges enjoyed by the canons
of Salisbury cathedral.
There is no special information on the subject, but it seems
probable that after some years the want of a recognized head
to the institution made itself felt. Comyn, of the work of
whose later years little is known, died in 1212. Henry de Loun-
dres (London), who succeeded him, had been archdeacon of
Stafford. This able and energetic prelate, who is noted in his-
tory as having put his signature to Magna Charta next after
Stephen Langton, carried out and developed the work of Comyn.
Increasing the endowment in various ways, he appointed a dean,
a precentor, a chancellor, and a treasurer. A full cathedral
staff was thus given to St. Patrick's, and from the time of De
Loundres the archbishops of Dublin had two cathedrals, the
original foundation of the Holy Trinity, or Christ Church, and
this church of St. Patrick. The proceedings of Archbishop
Henry were confirmed by Pope Honorius III. in 1221.
The cathedral is of no great dimensions, measuring three
hundred feet in length from the western door to ths east end
of the Lady chapel, the width of the nave being sixty-seven
* It seems that Giraldus was mistaken in saying: that Lucius ordained Comyn cardinal
priest. He ordained him priest^ says Benedictus Abbas, as not having: before received priest's
orders. The fact that he never claimed a cardinal's rank, with other testimony, makes it all
but certain that he never received the dignity of cardinal.
t Monck Mason, p. 2. Xlbid,^ App. No. ii.
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1898.] The True History of an Irish Cathedral. 639
feet, and the length of the transept one hundred and fifty-
seven feet. The tower at the north-west corner was built by
Archbishop Minot about 1370; the spire was added by the
Protestant Bishop of Clogher, John Stearne, in 1749.
The first conversion of the church to the purposes of reli-
gious *' reform " took place under Henry VIII.; its chief instru-
ments were Archbishop George Browne and Dean Edward
Bassenet. Browne, an Englishman, is first heard of as an Augus-
tinian friar ; he belonged to the house of that order at Oxford
where Erasmus was entertained by Prior Charnock in 1497.*
He took his degree as Bachelor of Divinity at Oxford ; but,
perhaps from some secret leaning towards the predestinarian
doctrine then very prevalent abroad, he repaired to some
foreign university, probably Basle or Wittenberg, to take the
degree of D.D., being afterwards incorporated in the same
degree at Oxford. Cromwell, who was in want of suitable
agents, found him out, and employed him in 1534, in con-
junction with Hilsey, the provincial of the Dominicans, to visit
all the houses of friars in London, and probably through all the
southern English counties also, and administer to them the
oath of succession. He must have been introduced about this
time to Henry VIII., and judged by him a fit agent for the
disorganization and plunder of the Church in Ireland, which it
was desired to carry on nearly pari passu with the correspond-
ing process in England. He was accordingly selected by the
king to fill the post of Archbishop of Dublin, vacant since the
murder of John Allan in 1534. He was consecrated in England,
doubtless by Cranmer, and arrived in Ireland in December,
I535.t He never received bulls from Rome, authorizing him
to hold the archbishopric, intercourse between England and the
Holy See being at the time broken off. Cromwell gave him a
commission on his leaving England '' to favor the king's advan-
tages.:]: For the next seventeen or eighteen years Browne played
the part assigned to him as well as he could, preaching in
favor of the king's ecclesiastical supremacy, and resisting those
of the clergy who did not approve of a total repudiation of the
papal jurisdiction. Through him the firstfruits of Irish abbeys
were granted to the king, and he promoted with all his power
the complete dissolution of the monasteries. He was probably,
like many other of Cromwell's proUgis^ a man of no refine-
ment, and this partly explains the unmeasured scorn in which
* An old archway in New Inn Hall Lane is all that remains of this house.
t Harl. Misc. v. % Dictionary of National Biography^ art. •♦ Browne."
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640 The True History of an Irish Cathedral, [Feb.,
he was held by Lord Leonard Grey, the deputy. Writing
against Grey to Cromwell,* Browne says : " I cannot say that
his lordship favoreth the false traitor Reginald Poole, whom in
communication between his lordship and me I called ' papish
cardinal,' and he in a great fume called me 'pol-shorne knave
frier.; "
Although the first " reform " of St. Patrick's, which was ac-
complished by Archbishop Browne and Dean Bassenet, settled
nothing finally — since it was. undone under Mary — the impor-
tance of what then took place, as giving a precedent for
tyrannical spoliation and forcing it on an unwilling people, was
so great, so pregnant with miserable consequences, that it is
necessary to describe it with as much detail as the scanty
materials admit. Edward Bassenet, a Welshman, was one of the
prebendaries of St. Patrick's at the death of Dean Fyche, in
1537-
He was not yet entirely of Browne's way of thinking in re-
ligious matters. Soon after his arrival, in 1537, the archbishop
wrote to Cromwell, complaining that the order for the removal
of images and relics was evaded by the dean, '' he finding it
gainfuU to retain those images."! He adds: "The Romish
relics and images of both my cathedrals took off the common
people from the true worship ; but the prior % and dean find
them so sweet for their gain that they heed not my words."
Browne therefore asks for an order more explicit, and that a
reproof shbuld be sent to them; and that the chief governor
should be told to support him. "The prior and dean have
writ to Rome to be encouraged, and if it be not hindered
before they have a mandate from the Bishop of Rome the
people will be bold, and then tug long before his highness can
submit them to his grace's orders." The Erastianism of all
this might have satisfied Hobbes himself!
Two letters to Cromwell printed among the Carew papers,
dated January 2 and May 8, 1538, show how little support
Browne found among his clergy in the business of substituting the
king's supremacy for the pope's. In the first he says that he
could find no one willing to preach in support of Henry's
supremacy, or to take any step in that direction. " I cannot,"
he says, " make them once, but as 1 send my own servants to
do it, to cancel out of the canon of the Mass or other books
the name of the Bishop of Rome." In the second he reports
*Cal. State Papers, 19 May, 1540.
t Monck Mason, p. 148. X Prior Paynswick, of Christ Church.
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The Renovated St. Patrick's Cathedral.
that a certain prebendary of St. Patrick's had sunjj Hij^h Mass
in the church of St. Owen on the first Sunday of May, and
would make no use of the ** bedes,** * which he, Browne, liad
devised for the furtherance of God's word, and the advance-
ment of the king's title of supremacy ; the archbishop liad,
therefore, committed him to prison.
Such being the attitude of the Archbishop of Dubh'n towards
the religion and the ritual which had held undisputed sway in
his cathedral of St. Patrick ever since its foundation in the
thirteenth century, let us now turn to examine the proceedings
of the dean of the same cathedral, at this critical period.
Bassenet, as we have seen, was considered lukewarm by Browne
in the cause of reformation, but it was found possible to opi n
his eyes. In 1540 he received a grant for ever of seven aocs
of arable land adjoining his estate (or was it his glebe ?) of
Deansrath, for which he was to render two fat capons yearly. f
In 1544 lands which had belonged to the suppressed St. Mary's
Abbey were granted in reversion to Dean Bassenet. The king
was resolved at this time — it is unknown with what precise
intent — to get the revenues of St. Patrick's into his own hands,
* Forms of prayer in English, in composing: which Browne had probab4y been assisted by
the English Reformers. t Monck Mason, p. 148.
VOL. LXVI.-41
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642 The True History of an Irish Cathedral. [Feb.,
and Bassenet was found a ready and unscrupulous agent. The
affair took time, but in 1546, Bassenet pressing the matter on
with much violence and illegality, and throwing several mem-
bers of the chapter who were refractory into prison,* a sur-
render was made of the church and all its revenues to the
king. Henry VIII. died at the beginning of the following
year, and no assignment of the estates to private persons
seems to have taken place ; since after Mary's accession no
great difficulty was found in replacing things on their former
footing. In 1547 it was ordered by the government that part
of the cathedral should be used as a court-house, and part as
a parish church ; a grammar school also was to be opened in
the precinct, together with a hospital or almshouse for twelve
poor men, who were to be for the most part servants of the
late king. The services of Bassenet — who is said to have taken
up arms against the insurgent natives while Leonard Grey was
deputy, and to have distinguished himself in the fight of
Bellahoaf — were much appreciated by the government, and he
was placed on the council. He died, rich and the father of a
family, in 1553. His wealth was derived, as Monck Mason
shows, from indiscriminate plunder of the church, especially of
that cathedral of which he had been the sworn servant. On
the outside of a lease relating to a property at Deansrath,
which, after belonging to Richard Bassenet of Denbigh, appears
to have come back to the dean and chapter. Swift wrote:
" This Bassenet was related to the scoundrel of the same name
who surrendered the deanery to that beast Henry VIII."
Such was the career of the first Protestant dean of St.
Patrick's. A few words have still to be said concerning the first
Protestant archbishop. Browne — and this must be mentioned to
his credit — desired to convert the suppressed cathedral into a
university; he would have renamed the church that of the Holy
Trinity, and called the institution which he would have attached
to it Christ's College. But the proposal, so far as is known,
was disregarded on all sides. In 1548, "interrogatories,;}: which
are believed to have been prepared by Chancellor Allen, were
drawn up against him for neglect of duty in the government
of the church, for his alienations and leases in reversion of
church lands, his " undecent " sermon in September, 1548, and
as to letters received by hiip from Irishmen. This last charge
* This seems to have been an ingenious plan for pensioning of! some of the minor instru-
ments of Henry's crusade of spoliation against the church at the expense of church funds.
See Monck Mason, p. 153.
t Ibid, X Cal. State Papers, Irel., vol. i.
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seems tp be connected with a matter thus noticed in the
Carew State Papers, p. 327: "He (Browne) seems to have
made bargains with Irish chieftains by which see lands were
alienated."
In 1551, Edward VI. being still on the throne, the deputy,
Sir Anthony St. Leger, summoned the bishops to a confer-
ence, in order to try how far it was possible to introduce the
prayer-book and the English service. Browne, Staples of Meath,
Lancaster of Kildare, and two other bishops desired the
change. But Dowdall, the primate, would have none of it.
He declared, according to Browne,* that he would never be
bishop where the holy Mass was abolished ; and, followed by
the majority of the bishops and clergy present, he left the
assembly. Before long, seeing that the government were bent
upon persecuting the church and abolishing the Mass, Dow-
dall went into voluntary exile. Browne* took this opportunity
of petitioning the government to deprive the see of Armagh of
its dignity as the primatial see — a dignity which it had enjoyed
ever since the time of St. Patrick — and to transfer that pre-
eminence to the see of Dublin. The government, which proba-
bly " cared for none of these things," complied with the re-
quest.
It is needless to say that in the convention of 1551 Browne
crawled before the royal authority, which was not less venera-
ble in his eyes when exercised by English statesmen in the
name of a boy of fourteen than when proclaimed directly by
his father. Some years passed; Edward died in 1553, and the>
Catholic Mary came to the throne. It was her chief solicitude
to undo the religious changes which her father and brother ha4[l,
introduced. Dowdall was brought back from exile ; the rights,
of the see of Armagh were restored to it ; and Browne, being,
a married man, was deposed from the see of Dublin. This
happened in 1554, and Browne appears to have died not long
afterwards. I have sketched his character and acts from the.
materials furnished by the State Papers, and foibtar to exam-
ine the terrible charges brought against him by his brother
bishop, John Bale of Ossory.f
Mary, who was not a good judge of character, selected
♦Cal. State Papers, August, 1551.
t In •• The Vocacyon of Johan Bale to the Bishoprick of Ossorie" (Harl. Misc., vol. vi.)
A man so innately and disg:ustingly scurrilous as Bale cannot, in any charge that he makes
unsupported, against things and persons Catholic, be ^accept^d as a sufficient witness; it
would therefore be unfair so to consider him when he turns upon his Protestant confrires.
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644 The T/^ue History of an Irish Cathedral. \¥th.,
Hugh Curwen to succeed Browne in the see of Dubh'n, and the
appointment was confirmed by the pope in August, 1555. Cur-
wen, a native of Cumberland, was originally a Cambridge man,
but had studied at both universities.* He became one of
Henry VHI/s chaplains, and must have had a certain gift of
pulpit eloquence, for we hear of a sermon preached before the
king in Lent, 1533, on heretical opinions concerning the Euchar-
ist, soon after which John Frith was condemned and burnt for
heresy ; again, in the same year, he preached vehemently in
favor of the divorce and against Friar Peyto. He was ap-
pointed to the deanery of Hereford, and nothing was heard of
him for many years, till Mary, who seems to have had a per-
sonal regard for him, summoned him from his obscurity and
nominated him to the see of Dublin. The pallium was granted
him, as above mentioned, by Paul IV., in August, 1555, and he
was consecrated in St. Paul's, according to the Roman pontifi-
cal, in the September following. On his arrival in Ireland he
is said to have at first displayed some zeal in the work of
restoring Catholicism ; but, as Strype says, he was " a complier
in all reigns.'*f His cathedral of St. Patrick's had been re-
stored to Catholic worship, and in its new dean, Thomas
Leverous, he had an honest coadjutor, whom if he had sup-
ported, the catastrophe of 1560 might perhaps have been post-
poned ; nor, at any rate, need he have given his personal
countenance to it. But, on the accession of Elizabeth, Curwen^
in the words of D'Alton the historian4 ''accommodated his
conduct and conscience to the policy of his new sovereign, and
her liberal favor was his recompense."
It is necessary to trace the precise steps by which the
change was brought about. The public establishment of reli-
gion in Ireland at the accession of Elizabeth depended on the
great statute of Mary's reign,§ entitled "An Act repealing
statutes and provisions made against the see apostolic of Rome
sithence the twentieth year of King Henry the Eighth." In
this act, after the preamble, comes the legatine brief (equiva-
lent to a papal bull) of Reginald Cardinal Pole, dated Lam-
beth, 6th May, 1557, in which, after saying that the realm of
Ireland had incurred ecclesiastical penalties by passing laws
and constitutions " in which it was specially enacted that the
* Wood's Athena; see also the art. •• Curwen " in Xht Dictionary of National Biography^
t Dictionary of National Biography. X Memoir of the Archbishop of Dublin ^ p. 238.
$3 and 4 Phil, and Mary, c. 8, Irish Statutes.
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1898.] The True History of an Irish Cathedral. 64s
Roman Pontiff was not the head of the church on earth and
the Vicar of Chilstt and that the King of England and Ireland
was the supreme head on earth, under Christ, in the church of
Ireland " — he, the cardinal, as papal legate, released the entire
Interior View of St. Patrick's.
kingdom of Ireland from the heresy and schism so described,
and from all the penalties that might have been incurred in
respect thereof. In fact, this brief, being included in the en-
acting portion of the bilt, purports to do for Ireland what
Pole's public declaration before queen and parliament, on the
30th of November, 1554, absolving and reconciling the realm,
had done for England.
By the fourth clause of the bill the sites and lands of Irish
monasteries are confirmed to their present holders.
The eighth clause deals with the question of the royal
supremacy. Although, it says, the title of "supremacye, or
supreme head of the Church of England and Ireland, or either
of them, . . . never was, nor could be, justly or lawfully
attributed to any king or soverain governor of any of the
said realms,** yet, as it had been used in many legal instru-
ments since the twenty-sixth year of Henry VIII., the present
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646 The True History of an Irish Cathedral. [Feb.,
sovereigns (Philip and Mary) should be free to exhibit, plead,
and use any records or deeds containing it.*
The fourteenth clause enacts that the papal jurisdiction in
the Church of Ireland shall be in future the same that it was
in the twentieth year of Henry VIII.
Queen Mary died in December, 1558, and Elizabeth, who out
of prudence had conformed for some years to Catholicism, now
took William Cecil for her adviser, and resolved to re-establish
Protestantism.
The Act of Uniformity for England was passed early in 1559,
and on the whole with little difficulty. The maxim " Cujus regio
ejus religio/' in spite of its profound imtnorality and the risks,
attending its enforcement, was widely accepted in the Europe
of the sixteenth century ; it is not surprising, therefore, that
Elizabeth and her ministers came to the determination to extend,
by fair means or foul, the new English religion to Ireland.
An act to that effect was draughted, closely resembling the
statute passed for England in 1559, ^md sent over to Ireland.
Sussex, the lord deputy, was ordered to introduce it in
the Irish parliament, and to "predispose the members to the
measure.*'! Ten counties, Dublin, Meath, Westmeath, Louth,
Kildare, Carlow, Kilkenny, Waterford, Tipperary, and Wex-
ford,:]: were summoned to send representatives ; the others,
namely, Cork, Kerry, Limerick, Connaught, Clare, Antrim, Ar-
dee, Down, King's County and Queen's County, were passed
over. " The rest," says Leland — that is, all besides the members
for the ten counties mentioned — " which made up the number
seventy-six, were citizens and burgesses of those towns in which
the royal authority was predominant." Such being the compo-
sition of the parliament, it was not wonderful, says the Pro-
testant historian, that the government measures were carried,§
The parliament met on the 12th of January, and had finished
its legislative work by the 1st of February. It readily passed
the Act of Uniformity, which was styled "An Act restoring
to the Crown the ancient jurisdiction over the state ecclesiasti-
cal and spiritual, and abolishing all forreine power repugnant
to the same."|i
* Mr. Walpole, in his popular history of the l^ngdom of Ireland^ a work usually fair and
accurate, asserts (p. 107) that Mary " did not renounce the supreme headship of the church.'*
The above examination of the act shows that this is a complete mistake.
t Plowden, p. 73, % Leland's History of Ireland ^ ii. 224,
§ According to Leland's lists, two counties in Leinster, Long-ford and Wicklow, the
whole of Ulster, the whole of Connaught, and four counties in Munster, Cork, Limerick, Ker-
ry, and Clare, were unrepresented in the parliament of 1560. By *' Ardee" South Louth
seems to have been meant. | Irish Statutes, 2 Elizabeth chap. i.
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1898.] The True History of an Irish Cathedral. 647
By clause five it was enacted that ** no forreine prince,
person, prelate, state, or potentate, shall at any time after the
last day of this session of parliament enjoy or exercise any
jurisdiction or authority, spiritual or ecclesiastical, within the
realm."
But such jurisdiction and authority (clause 6) "shall for
ever, by the authority of this present parliament, be united and
annexed to the imperial crown of this realm," and may be
delegated by the queen to whom she will.
Clause seven contained the terms of the oath of supremacy,
to be taken by all clergymen and all persons holding ofHce un-
der the crown.
By the twelfth clause it is provided that any one speaking
or writing on behalf of a foreign jurisdiction in things ecclesi-
astical, shall for the first offence forfeit all his goods and chat-
tels, real as well as personal, for the second incur the penal-
ties of premunirey and be condemned for high treason, with
" paines of death " for the third.
Thus, within the space of four years, two measures — totally
irreconcilable with each other, yet each affecting the deepest
interests and feelings of every family within the realm, and of
generations yet unborn — were placed upon the Irish statute-
book. The first of the two merely restored a state of things
which had existed since Christianity was first brought to Ire
land down to the reign of Henry VIII. No private interests
were directly affected by it except those of two or three apos-
tate friars or priests who had forgotten their obligations; no
oath was imposed to catch and torture consciences ; its evident
object, from the first clause to the last, was to reconcile, repair,
and reconstruct. The second act was a religious revolution ;
it made it a crime to hold the old and true doctrine as to
the government of the church, and a legal duty, enforceable by
cruel penalties, to hold a novel and false doctrine. What men-
tal conflicts must every Irish chapter, every bishop's see, every
parish have been the scene of in those miserable days ! Here,
however, we are only concerned with the effect of the act in
relation to St. Patrick's.
In Mary's letters to Sir Anthony St. Leger, the deputy, dated
February 18 and 23, 1555, setting forth the details of the plan
for the restoration of St. Patrick's, after naming Thomas Lever-
ous, the new dean, and the other members of the chapter, she
says that she has nominated her trusty and well-beloved chap-
lain, Mr. Hugh Coren (Curwen), doctor of laws, to be Arch-
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648 The True History of an Irish Cathedral. [Feb.,
bishop of Dublin. It is evident that the possibility of Curwen's
proving false to his God, to his church, to her, and to his own
honor never occurred to her. It is not known, we believe,
how he behaved in the Irish House of Lords ; but if he had op-
posed the passing of the act, some notice must have been
taken of it, and the probabilities are that he either voted for
it or stood aside and let it pass. It may be considered certain
that he took the oath ; and no less certain that he obeyed the
act passed in the same parliament,* prescribing the exclusive
use in Irish churches of the English prayer-book for worship
and the administration of sacraments, and enacting (clause 14)
** that all laws, statutes, and ordinances, wherein or whereby
any other service, administration of sacraments, or common
prayer is . . . set forth to be used within this realm, shall
from henceforth be utterly void and of none effect." That is
to say, he, a Catholic archbishop, consented to the abolition of
the Mass, and the substitution of the Protestant communion
service
Little is known of the unhappy man after this. In Novem-
ber, 1560, he asked to be translated to the see of Hereford,
but nothing came of it. Adam Loftus in his correspondence
charges him with '* open crimes," which he was ashamed to
mention,f and with being ** a great swearer." Considering the
various contradictory oaths which he had taken in his life-time
this at least was not far from the truth. In 1565 Brady, Bishop
of Meath, advised his recall, as "the old unprofitable work-
man." ;{: In 1567 he was appointed to the see of Oxford, and
died the following year.§
One of the two principal guardians of the cathedral had
thus proved false to his trust. What would the other guardian
do ? This was Thomas Leverous, the dean, who had been nomi-
nated by Queen Mary Bishop of Kildare, when Lancaster was
deprived on the ground of matrimony, and was confirmed in the
see by the pope on the 3d of August, 1555. The temporalities
of Kildare being very small, he was allowed to hold the deanery
of St. Patrick's also, in commendam.
Leverous, who was an . honest and religious man, did not
hesitate. He could take no such oath as the Act of Uni-
formity prescribed, nor could he be a party to the restoration
of the English service. To the Lord Justice, Sir Henry
Sidney, he told his reasons — sua viriute se involvit — and retired
* 2 Elizabeth, chap. ii. t Art. ' Curwen " in Dictionary of National Biography.
X Ibid, § Stubbs' Episc, Succession.
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1898.] The True History of an Irish Cathedral. 649
to a blameless poverty. The Earl and Countess of Kildare
received and sheltered him for a long time; later on we hear
of his keeping a school at Adare. He died in 1577, being then
over eighty, and was buried at Naas, his native town.
Unhappily, there was no lack of members of the chapter of
St. Patrick's ready to take his place under the conditions im-
posed by the Act of Uniformity. Alexander Craike, prebendary
of Clonmethan, was elected dean by the chapter to succeed
Leverous ; of course he must have taken the Protestant oath.
Since that time Protestant divines have, we believe, held the
deanery of St. Patrick's and the temporalities of Kildare
in uninterrupted succession. Craike has been accused * of
stripping his bishopric of almost all the lands belonging to
the see. No one seems to have thought much about it ; the
greater treachery drove out the less. He died in 1564, and
after some months Elizabeth gave the deanery to Adam Loftus,
a Yorkshireman, who had once been a Catholic priest.
The question for final consideration is — what right had
Curwen, after he had submitted to the Act of Uniformity, to
sit as archbishop ; what right had Craike to preside as dean in
the cathedral of St. Patrick? It is not enough to say that
what they did was legal, being sanctioned by the Irish Act of
Uniformity. Laws may be demonstrably unjust. But the ques-
tion goes still deeper. If even the parliament of 1560 had been
truly representative of the people of Ireland, could it have
justly claimed the power to pass the Act of Uniformity, and
by necessary consequence to dispossess those to whom St.
Patrick's then belonged, and to induct another set of persons
into possession ? This leads to a further question, What is the
essence of the right of ecclesiastical bodies to hold their
property ?
St. Patrick's Cathedral may serve as a test case as well as
any other piece of property. When it was originally built and
endowed, it and the possessions annexed to it were given and
dedicated "to God, the Blessed Virgin, and St. Patrick." What
did these words mean? Practically this: that the church and
its endowments were given to the Catholic Church, to be
administered by a corporate body called a chapter, having per-
petual succession, under regulations and for purposes approved
by that church. To a considerable extent the rights of the
chapter corresponded to those of a private proprietor over his
house and land. They and they only had the right of main-
* Monck Mason, p. 165.
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6so The True History of an Irish Cathedral. [Feb.,
taining, repairing, and enlarging the church, of determining the
time and manner of its use by the public, and of letting, im-
proving, or exchanging the land ; but in exercising these rights
they were responsible to the archbishop and the Catholic
Church for always keeping in view the religious ends, and, sub-
ordinately, the clear temporal interests of the foundation.
Their proprietary right was also limited in other ways. The
buildings stood within a city governed by a municipality, which
had the charge of sanitary concerns ; the chapter had to respect
this municipal power, and could not justly run counter to its
decrees. Again, the archbishop had a right to his throne in
the choir, and various other rights and claims, which might be
the subject of dispute and adjustment between him and the
chapter. Lastly, the king, being bound to maintain the peace
of the country, could justly override the chapter's ordinary
right in order to carry out that function. For instance, if a
piece of ground, or a building, belonging to the cathedral were
urgently wanted in order to complete the defences of the city,
the king might justly expropriate such house or building ; or
supposing that the chapter had fallen into a state of notorious
relaxation, and the archbishop did not interfere, or interfered
weakly or ineffectually, the king, as the general guardian of
public morals, might be justified in insisting on its dissolution,
permanent or temporary. In such a case, however, he could
not proceed justly, except in concert with the higher eccle-
siastical authority.*
It appears, therefore, that in 1560 there was no full and
absolute right of property in St. Patrick's anywhere. The
chapter had the strongest right, but it was limited as we have
seen. Now what is property? "Property," says Bentham, "is
not material, it is metaphysical ; it is a mere conception of the
mind. . , . The idea of property consists in an established
expectation, in the persuasion of being able to draw such or
such an advantage from the thing possessed, according to the
nature of the case.*'f This expectation, Bentham goes on to
say, is the creation of law. Law, written or unwritten, had
existed for many generations, entitling the archbishop and the
chapter to use the cathedral and its endowments in certain
ways and no others, and under the authority of the particular
institution known as the Catholic Church, and no other institu-
* In the early part of the reig:n of Louis XVI. hundreds of French monasteries were
suppressed by the state and the church acting jointly, on the ground either of relaxation or
great reduction in numbers. f Bentham's Theory of Legislation^ chap. viii.
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1898.] The True History of an Irish Cathedral. 651
tion. The law had generated an expectation that the church
and endowments would b6 so used in future, and this expecta-
tion was the basis of the property which the archbishop and
chapter had in them. The people of Dublin, again, had a just
expectation, namely, that the divine service and administration
of sacraments^would be performed in St. Patrick's in the six-
teenth century, as they had been in previous centuries. Hon-
est members of the chapter also, like Leverous, bad an expec-
tation, based upon law, that the various offices and charges in
the cathedral would be open to them and their Catholic kin-
djed, in the future as in the past, without a change which, by
substituting the English sovereign for the Roman Pontiff in
the government of the church, was tantamount to requiring
them to embrace a new religion. All these lawful expectations
were defeated by the revolutionary act of 1560, which arbi-
trarily transferred to the crown that share of property and
responsibility in and over St. Patrick's which had till then be-
longed to the Catholic Church and its supreme head, the pope.
In short, the whole question comes to this : has a queen, or
a queen and parliament, or any human authority whatever, the
moral right of compelling the subject to change his religion ?
If she or they have, Leverous was justly deposed from the
deanery, and St. Patrick's justly became a Protestant cathedral.
If they have not, most persons will draw a widely different
conclusion.
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6s 2 Henryk Sienkiewicz. [Feb.,
HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ.
FIRST PART,
higher proof that a writer in imaginative litera-
ture has impressed his age can be afforded than
that his contemporaries are curious to know
the particulars of his life. He must have a
message to his own or to his time, or he mnst
have been guerdoned with one or other of those powers by
which "the dead but sceptred sovereigns" of fancy and pas-
sion still rule our spirits from their urns. A great orator
may arise to call his own out of bondage, or lash them with
the god-like scorn of his words if they chose to play idly in
the wilderness whither they were guided by lightning and by
day, and for whose feet a path was made through the sea
that covered it and their foes. A great preacher may arise to
tell a time of unbelief that the decree has gone forth that
one of two shall be taken. This is to each and all without
exception, and to no age was such a message more needful
than to this. Or the spell may be cast upon the age by some
lord of song, or some creator of worlds, such as those wherein
kings and heroes hold high council by the loud-resounding
deep near an Ilion whose towers still kiss the sky; or where
shapes such as the gifted dream of revel in unfading moon-
light with Oberon and Titania in forests of Ardennes, with the
melancholy Jaques, Orlando, Rosalind, Celia, and all of them ;
or in wild chase with Onesti's hell dogs; or in the "hunt up"
of Chevy Chase with Percy and with Douglas ; or in the chapel
where the Giaour chills us with his scowl ; or with the students
when they baffle the sword-play of Mephistopheles with crossed
swords symbolical ; or with Rhea when she bends her sorrowing
head over the defeated Saturn, lying vast on the bank and in
the stream from his side flung helpless, nerveless, his unsceptred
hand, or in any of those realms where we see through the half-
closed eye in pleasant lands of drowsy-head, of lotus, and of
light — realms where we live as
"The gods who haunt
The lucid interspace of world and world
Where never creeps a cloud, or moves a wind,
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1898.] Henry K Sienkiewicz. 653
Nor ever falls the least white star of snow,
Nor sound of human sorrow mounts to mar
The sacred, everlasting calm."
RANK WITH THE IMMORTALS.
And speaking of a mission, or of creative power, though
the creator has his mission like the preacher or the tribune,
all the orator or prophet can tell has been suggested by
each man's heart, at one time or another, and, haply, not
attended to, wherein there was a missing of the tide. Orator
or prophet seldom comes. The people who lie in the desert
or turn eyes to the land of Egypt while the tribune pours out
his heart in unavailing wrath and woe, shall remain, as they
ought, a hissing and a by-word to the nations. And we wha
form the lifeless world of the living may find, if we look to
Circe when the preacher calls, that we shall hear no other
warning voice. In the works of Henryk Sienkiewicz there
is the twofold message — one to the oppressed, his own; one
to all mankind. But he is a creator too, and by this we mean
a maker of men and women like Homer, whose Nausicaa is
so charming, as a great critic said, that one shrinks from mak-
ing her the subject of prosaic comment ; like Dante, whose
Francesca's gentleness is an unutterable pain; like Shakspere,
whose Rosalind is the ideal for whom the soldier would face
death i' the imminent deadly breach, the man of affairs strip
off his Garter and his George and live a squire at home, and
the lawyer burn his lamp over precedents till it paled in the
dawn. In her own way, Aniela in Without Dogma deserves
a place with these perfect embodiments of pure and tender
imagination.
ANIELA AND HER COMPEERS.
We may win scorn for placing this creation so high.
We say that neither Goethe nor Byron — and to us they come
nearest in their conception of woman to the great masters
named — has in the Margaret of the one or the Medora of the
other shaped anything so womanly as Aniela. Great as these
poets are in the power of casting images upon the scene, their
works are more like the shadows of a magic lantern than living
men and women ; if they are creators, it is in a secondary de-
gree. They are like the aeons of Gnosticism, intermediate intelli-
gences, making by the passion of words what to be creation
should be made by the passion of the heart and fancy. We may
incur criticism for ascribing this power to Byron, because it is said
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6S4 Henryk Sienkiewjcz. [Feb.,
that external nature alone stood before the mind in his verse,
that men and women were unreal on his page. But again we say,
Astarte in " Manfred " is no abstraction ; she is a conception of
sweetness, dignity, purity, and resignation that only loses the
certainty of touch because of that secondary creative order
which could not triumph over the preternatural surroundings,
amid which she appears. The Thane of Cawdor is a mortal
man talking to the Witches. Hamlet is in a frenzy of horror
and excitement, his friends in an ecstasy of fear, when the Ghost
comes into the night. Beyond the grave all still live in the
" Divine Comedy," doing their sentences — all from Nimrod to
Ugolino, as the eye-witness tells in a testimony proof against
all cross examination. The true test of the creative power,
original or secondary, is in the impression produced, the vivid-
ness of the conception painted in the reader's mind. In Camp-
bell's little lyric of some twenty lines we see Adelgitha, the
lists, the slanderer on his war steed, we hear the sounding of
the fatal trumpet for the ordeal, with a sinking of the heart,
and we feel a great relief when her champion " bounded " into
the enclosure.
In our age one gifted like the seers to see and tell the truth
was needed. There is no purity in private life, but there is much
talk of its counterfeit presentment. The whited sepulchre is a
flourishing institution, and ''not to be found out" the law and
the prophets. In public life is not even a pagan fidelity to
principle, and principle itself is only party and place. In the
intercourse of pleasure and business is no honor, but a war
to the knife with smiling lips, a duel h Foutrance. To cheat in
commercial, to betray in social relations are the aspects of the
hour. The feeling of weariness amid all this pleasure, the sense
of hollowness in this absorbing pursuit of gain, drive women
and men hither and thither, like wrecks upon the sea. Excite-
ment has possession of the whole life of the upper classes. It
is the object for which women pursue pleasure, it is the end
for which business men toil over accounts, men of science waste
life in laboratories, scholars blind themselves over books, poli-
ticians sell their word for the sweet voices of the multitude.
It is a race through the short course to the grave. But what
is the prize ^ For what is the fierce speed maintained with an
ardor and a skill which could not be surpassed if honor were
the goal — the reward of faithful life the goal? Why such cruel
rivalry to gain a bauble ? Yet it is to gain this, this and no
more, the swift wheel of one overthrows another chariot.
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is pan alone dead ?
This is what one sees. We are in an age of dead gods, dead
faiths. A scepticism the most bald that has yet arisen cuts
down through all the strata of society. The housemaid, with a
shilling dreadful in her hand instead of the sweeping-brush,
knows that Christianity is out of date quite as well as her
mistress, who talks ethics behind the bijou table that defends
her from the too close approach of visitors. Comte, with a
Frenchman's talent for turning into an epigram what spoken
by any other man would be a commonplace, said the world was
ruled by ideas. We begin to think this platitude a lie. There
are no ideas. The stock exchange is not an idea-making temple.
Parliament is a parish, vestry in the hands of men with con-
tracts to give away. The pulpit is a platform to advertise the
last sensation in literature or the last esclandre in society. Oh
no ! the world is not ruled by ideas. From Moses' time to our
Lord's they were wonderful influences in leavening a lifeless
mass in the nations round Israel ; from our Lord they went as
armies to subdue Rome ; they maintained a vitality through all
the centuries — stronger or weaker at times, but life still, until
this one. To-day they are dead as the gods whom Lucretius
assailed with such scorn ; dead as the Christ of Protestantism
upon whom Haeckel poured a hate more venomous than Lu-
cretius' scorn for the faineant deities who served no purpose of
gods towards men.
There is a gleam of hope in the black sky. No one is com-
fortable. No one, however rich and highly placed, can pass
the time unless like Epicurean gods, or unless
"Half the Devil's lot,
Trembling but believing not,"
is his portion. As the poor servant-girl goes to a fortune-teller
to hear about her future in this life, her mistress goes to some
new Cagliostro in communication with the dead. Our author's
no least merit is in taking the measure of the time ; and this
he has done with an intensity, whether as regards insight or
power of expression, which places him in the foremost rank of
prophets. The wild laughter of Rabelais, cyclopean buffoonery
echoing from mountain-top to mountain-top in mockery of what
he scorned, made people think. The Demosthenic fire of Swift's
invective and the unapproachable excellence of his irony, in
their turn served to teach the strong that justice and humanity
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656 Henryk Sienjciewicz. [Feb.,
are better than cruelty and fraud. So our author, gauging his
time, tries to tell society without fear what a lie its life is.
And in doing so he is somewhat of an interpreter of that
handwriting in the ledger which disturbs that merchant's rest ;
and a safer one than the minister, for his page does not shed
a rose-light on the cold, white glimpses of awakened conscience.
As if our author had been through the hard apprenticeship of
doubt, and for a moment in the silent sorrow of unbelief, he
tells us in Without Dogma that there is no solace here, that
there is an agony there, and allows us to infer, with the sugges-
tiveness of genius, that the agony of doubt is more tolerable
than the silent sorrow of unbelief.
FAITH AND FETICHISM.
He has not in his mind the blatant atheist like Bradlaugh
or Ingersoll, or those " foolish women " of both sexes who pro-
fess to think that scepticism is a mark of reading and thought
which they are pleased to call " cultya," whatever that means ;
but he is thinking of men who, despite their doubts, fear as if
there were no doubt ; despite their unbelief, are obstinately
questioned from within by a voice that will not be silenced
by evasions, palliations, incognoscibilities. It is, no doubt, in-
consistent, but not hopeless because of this — not hopeless be-
cause, however misty things may appear in the azure of the
intellect, they are real things, not abstractions escaping analy-
sis, when the heart is sad and a sense of the vanity of all be-
low the sun rolls like a sea upon it. In vain the reason tells
them that the highest form of religion the world has seen —
whose ceremonial is the embodied ideal of public worship, upon
the construction of whose temples genius lavished itself, on
whose accessorial aids to recollection and devotion, painting,
sculpture, music employed themselves with a love greater than
the art — and this was great — which it inspired, whose doctrine
is the only science of theology, whose rule is the only one
which for nineteen centuries has held together people of every
tongue and climate, however sundered in sentiment by preju-
dices of race, or divided by rivalries of interest, all of them
held together in looking to what Carlyle described as "an old
Italian man " as their supreme ruler in all that concerns their
true destiny, their life here in relation to their life hereafter — in
vain what they call reason tells them that this religion is only a
more finished fetichism. There is another principle which rejects
as unsatisfactory this account of the most extraordinary phe-
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1898.] HENRYK SlENKlEWlCZ. 657
nomenon that has risen in the history of the race. But the in-
consistency of men ^yho can know nothing except what they
touch, looking for knowledge outside and above the senses !
The greater inconsistency still for independent and self-existent
men to be troubled about death; for men, .concerning whom
everything was det-ermined the moment rudimentary life found
itself in water or on earth, to busy themselves about what may
take place after death ! No matter what — to run away with a
friend's wife, to swindle another, to defame and blight the life
of a third, can be of no consequence, if any or all of these in-
cidents of society be fixed by a law in comparison with which,
for inflexibility, the predestinarianism of Calvinism is flab-
biness itself.
What a tangle it all is! And Henryk Sienkiewicz, cutting
boldly through the knots, must have won the prayers of many
a lacerated heart, of many a mind pushed on and drawn
back from thinking upon things lest ** there madness lay." To
the Positivist, with the " creed " that he constitutes a part of
the eternal vitality operating in the universe through endless
changes, so that when he dies he will live again in transformed
influences in the march of Humanity and the life of the world —
influences upon what is vulgarly called mind and vulgarly
called matter — to him what need of a voice from beyond the
grave, a revelation from the unseen? Indeed, as monists who
have settled the whole question of mind and matter, they
seem unpardonable in listening to conscience like a mere
Christian.
How good is this uneasiness ! and to it our author speaks,
we think, in the way that augurs a great success. Indeed, he has
attained it already. There is great curiosity about him — that
is to say, aside from his books. There must be the ring of
genuine metal in a man who has affected others to this degree ;
and in the concluding part of this paper we shall try to find
out what there is in the books, and why the man below and
behind them should become a power upon the time. It is not
the mere intellectual pleasure which fills the imagination, or
the perception of fitness satisfying the intellect in the crea-
tions of Shakspere, which moves us in the men and women
of Sienkiewicz. However, his characters are clearly not bun-
dles of epithets tied together by a name ; otherwise they would
not move us. The truth he tells in his novels would not alone
be an attraction to those who only read novels for relaxation,
or to those whose only mental pabulum is to be found in
VOL. LXVI.— 42
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6s8 Henry K Sienkiewicz, [Feb.,
novels. We shall endeavor to arrive at some explanation of
the effect.
Hazlitt denies that Shakspere has taught a lesson ; by which
he means that he has conveyed no truth concerning the destiny
of man or the imperative claim of duty. Though we differ
from that eminent critic on this point, the observation conveys
the distinguishing idea with which we started, that an age can
only be affected by a truth proclaimed by a voice quasi-in-
spired, like that of a great tribune speaking with the power of
** those orators, the ancient," who **fulmined over Greece to
Macedon and Artaxerxes' throne " ; like that of a great preacher
such as Peter the Hermit, who startled Europe, causing knight
and noble to ride from their castles, which they would never
see again — serf and artisan to leave cot and burg, where life
went its complete though narrow round in familiar conditions,
for a strange world and indeterminable cares.
Does Sienkiewicz proclaim a truth ? We think he does. As
we have said, he understands the age in which he lives, he sees
a civilization estimated by luxury, an acuteness of intellect
never surpassed, a power of investigating and arranging instances
possessed by a large number of men, as if this scientific quality
were a mere product of education, like the demonstration of a
proposition in Euclid.' Invention has gone beyond magic.
There seems no limit to it. Population and substance stand in
such relations to each other that every prediction of economists
in this century, not to say the preceding one, has been falsified.
He sees that the class which rests upon the surface of the
whole social system lives in a fever of fear, alternated with
fits of weariness hardly distinguishable from despair; that
the refuge from either state is excitement as ruinous to the
nerves as the disease itself. Such a life is worse than mad-
ness, because conscience will not be exorcised by any theories
of monism. He sees this, and he does not fear to say it.
So we have the nineteenth century embodied in Petronius
Arbiter, with the transcendent alchemy of imagination by which
a great student of the first century and the nineteenth can at
will invest himself with either. The shadow of a name behind
the " Satyricon *' could not, as his critics suppose, be the fig-
ure, so delicate, so indifferent, so subtle, and so strong with
whom we are so mac'i at home in the scenes of Quo Vadis?
He is a perfect host ; we sit with him at his table enchanted
by the genial cynicism as if we were a friend, though he pro-
fesses no faith in friendship. We can complain of the " divine
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1898.] Henryk Sienkiewicz. 659
Nero/' certain that this courtier will not betray us; we can
speak with reverence of the gods, sure that this sceptic will
respect us. He is a perfect gentleman, this Epicurean created
by the only imagination that could create a perfect gentleman,
an imagination moulded in Catholic belief, expanded by Catho-
lic heroism, pruned of extravagance by Catholic moralities.
The author's soul has gone into this creation. His own pas-
sionate, Polish Catholic heart beats in the equable pulsations of
Petronius. The passion and suffering, the loyalty and love,
which he has scattered upon the others, he has bestowed with
the exuberant sympathy that belongs to all creative minds.
He himself is in these too, for each man is compounded of
many men ; in each one of us is angel and satyr in degrees
shading off till a moral universe lies between the extremes repre-
sented by some ; and so the author is, more or less, in all that
he has made, in proportions that shape them to the part they
are to play, but in Petronius it is his very self that is the in-
forming spirit. In him he vivifies his own hopes and disap-
pointments, his speculative difficulties, his social and religious
creeds; imparting to the product of the heart a cast from the
critical consistency of the pure intellect which makes the entire
conception of an able and jaded man of the nineteenth cen-
tury a Roman of the first.
" BREAD AND CIRCUSES '* THE AGE-LONG CRY.
In the life running through this great novel we see the
forces of the present at work; the instability, passion, and vio-
lence of the Roman populace reflect the discontent of the
masses over whose toil European society hangs to-day. The
dread with which emperor and patrician listened to the roar of
the multitude has its parallel in the anxiety of the Kaiser, the
espionage of the Republic of France, the gloom of Russia.
The pretorians could not keep the sound of menace from •
Nero's ears ; the empire of blood and iron is honeycombed by
labor societies in revolt against all authority; along the high-
roads to Siberia rays of light from the prison-house of the
Czar carry messages to the heart of mankind ; the police of
France are not an impenetrable barrier between the disaffected
and the outer world. The seething of revolutionary ideas on
social and political questions had its expression nineteen cen-
turies ago in the thunder of the Roman rabble for " Bread and
Circuses.*' It is beside the question that the latter could be
appeased by gifts of food, while the modern working-men have
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66o Henryk Sjenjciewicz. [Feb.,
aspirations that show man lives not by bread alone. We are
comparing the periods in their features of resemblance which
the artist has laid hold of for his purpose. There is even a
greater difference between the working-men and the Roman
populace than the one mentioned, because the Romans were
not working-men at all. They were only dismissed freedmen,
or the sons of freedmen who had never done a stroke of
honest work; they were aliens standing in the place of the old
Plebs, which had so long struggled for liberty and right, and
which wrested privilege after privilege from the noblest and
most sagacious oligarchy the world had ever seen. For these
sweepings from conquered nations, so different from the ancient
Plebs, the fleets of Africa, the Mediterranean Islands, and
Spain carried the corn, oil, and wine of these dependent
states ; and so well was their right established to this tribute
that a contrary wind might cost the emperor his throne. Con-
sequently, in the menace of their discontent the Roman popu-
lace stand at one with the unresting elements which endanger
European society to-day.
A POLE AND A CATHOLIC.
With regard to every work of genius we may look to the
author's antecedents for a part of its meaning. A Pole and a
Catholic, Sienkiewicz grew up with two leading principles in-
fluencing his whole nature — love of religion and love of country
in their purest form. If he had accepted the religion of the
state, we are convinced he would have obtained distinguished
rank and could have become rich beyond the dreams of avar-
ice. To be suspected of sympathy with his own people would
be at any moment ground for his exportation to Siberia. If
he had joined the Russian-Greek Church instead of being lia-
ble to suspicion in Warsaw, he might with his talents be its
governor, with a power unlimited as that of a Persian satrap or
a Roman proconsul. His loyalty to his race is a great exam-
ple in an age like ours, when men put away compromising
memories ; his earnestness of faith in religious dogmas is of in-
estimable value at a time when eclecticism in religion effaces
the foundations of morality.
It is with no slight degree of gratification we find ourselves in
a region of heroism and truth and purity, when the very atmos-
phere we breathe is tainted with a moral poison, when there
is no god but ambition, no homage save to success. Reading
his books has something of the effect of the pure air of the
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1898.] Henry Jc Sienkiewicz. 661
dawn flowing into a room where gamblers and hetairai had
been sitting through the night. He speaks from a heart full
of the conviction of his race, that the holy faith is that one
divine gift to preserve which men must part with all they hold
most dear on earth — wife, children, friends, home, lands — and to
die for which on the field or by the executioner's hand is the
supreme, the crowning, the last, the inconceivably high privi-
lege of life.
This passion breaks. through the ice and repose, the sensu-
ous ease, the perfume of the violet, the radiance of bright
things, the trance of music, the forms of Greece and the might
of Rome. All these are fleeting as the snow that falls in
water beside it. It expresses itself in the fidelity and strength
of Ursus, the calm of those who awaited death in the arena ;
while the shadows, the unrealities, are the emperor and Tigel-
linus and the court, the tiers of furious faces rising round and
round, upward and upward to the sky-line — all these from
emperor to slave are the accessories to the drama in which our
Lord triumphed in his martyrs.
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662 Lettice Lancaster's Son. [Feb.,
LETTICE LANCASTER'S SON.*
BY CHARLES A. L. MORSE.
FEW miles from the site of the old town of St.
Mary's, Maryland, stands the fast-crumbling ruin
of the manor house of Birchley. The wide lawn,
sloping gently down to the broad waters of the
Potomac, is now a tangle of rank grass and
weeds, amid which the tall, storm-twisted, and uncared-for trees
stand like gaunt, restless sentinels. A grass-grown avenue
sweeps from the river's edge across the neglected lawn to the
pillared portico of the house. The house itself, two stories in
height, built of highly-glazed chocolate-colored bricks, has been
tenantless for many years ; the windows broken, the roof shat-
tered and sinking to its fall, while the broad entrance-door
stands always open, as if in mute, sad memory of the generous
hospitality of a dead, but fondly remembered, past. The old
Maryland manor house is, in fact, to-day but a forgotten and
rapidly disappearing monument to a gracious, kindly, stately
society, as unlike as may-be to our modern money-worshipping,
fretful, and ill-mannered world.
Among the "gentlemen adventurers" who fled from Pro-
testant persecution in England in the seventeenth century to
found that colony in the new world in which alone religious
freedom was to be proclaimed, was one Richard Lancaster of
Birchley, Lancashire. He was a cadet of one of those families
in the North of England who clung heroically to the faith dur-
ing the persecutions of Elizabeth and James L, and was a
member of the pilgrim bands on board the Ark and the Dove^
which, headed by Leonard Calvert and the Jesuits White and
Altham, first set foot upon the soil of the new world at St.
Clement's Island, near the mouth of the Potomac River. There,
on the Feast of the Annunciation in the year 1634, they
planted a cross and assisted at their first Mass in their home
of exile — a Mass celebrated by a Jesuit father under the blue
vault of heaven, with the rhythmic murmur of the waters of the
Chesapeake Bay for music. Their land of exile was in truth a
* A sequel to •' A Romance of Old Portsmouth " in The Catholic World Magazine for
October, 1897.
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1898.] Lettice Lancaster's Son. 663
goodly land, a land of broad rivers and fertile plains and gen-
tle hills and green woods, and as the little band knelt in the
warm sunlight at that Holy Sacrifice which a persecuting and
immoral queen had made it a penal offence to celebrate in
England, their hearts overflowed in grateful thanksgiving at the
thought that here in their new home the cruel yoke of perse-
cution was lifted from them, and they were at liberty to wor-
ship God as their forefathers for a thousand years had done.
Little did the gallant Calvert and his followers dream, that
bright feast day in the year 1634, that within fifty years the
cloud of Puritan persecution was to settle down upon their
colony, blotting out for a time the light of Christian toleration
which they had kindled in the new world !
A few days after this Feast of the Annunciation, 1634, the
colonists laid out the plan of the city which they called St.
Mary's, and Richard Lancaster was made lord of a manor
which he named Birchley, in honor of the Lancashire town
where he had been born, and where the light of the faith had
never died out since the evil days of Henry Tudor. Amid his
broad acres he erected a log-house, and thirty years later the
fine old mansion now crumbling into ruin on the banks of
the Potomac was built. Under its roof the Lancasters were
born and baptized and given in marriage and died for many
generations, until at length the fate which overtakes most
American families, sooner or later, of shattered fortunes and
dwindling strength, overtook them too, and the old manor
passed out of their keeping for ever.
In the summer of the year 1718, Humphrey Lancaster, a
grandson of the first lord of the manor, was in possession of
Birchley, and one afternoon late in August he stood upon the
threshold of his home looking out eagerly at the St. Mary's
road. He was a courtly old man with a finely cut, gentle face,
crowned with snow-white hair, and in his dark blue eyes that
August afternoon there glowed a wealth of happiness — happi-
ness at the home-coming of his children. That morning the
ship Calverty from England, had been sighted at the mouth of
the Potomac and must ere now be moored at the St. Mary's
wharf, and upon that ship were his son and heir Gerrard, and
Hilda his daughter. More than two years had passed since
Gerrard Lancaster left Maryland on account of his connection
with a Jacobite demonstration, and his exile had been made
the more distressing to his old father by a shipwreck off the
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664 Lettice Lancaster's Son. [Feb.,
New England coast, the news of which had caused the old
man many a sleepless night. But the days of exile were over
at last, the feeling against the Stuart sympathizers was dy-
ing out in the colony, the young man was returning with
Governor Hart's express permission, and with him was the
girl Hilda, who for twice two years had been a pupil in a
foreign convent school. So the old man stood upon his door-
step watching longingly for the two wanderers who were all
that was left to him in this life, and when at last the great
lumbering family coach, with its four horses, swung heavily
around a turn in the road his eyes filled with tears, and not
until the pompous black coachman had drawn up with a flour-
ish before the door did the mist fade from those tear-filled
eyes. But when the carriage-door opened and its occupants
descended to the ground, the old man passed a hand doubt-
fully across his eyes as if to clear their vision still more, for
beside his son and daughter a third figure emerged from the
coach and came towards him a bit shyly, clinging to Gerrard's
arm. Like a small whirlwind Hilda flew up the broad steps and
threw herself into her father's arms, where she nestled con-
tentedly, murmuring unintelligible things about Gerrard and
her "sister." And as Humphrey Lancaster drew his child
closer to him Gerrard and his companion came slowly up the
steps, and the young man said quite simply :
"Father, I have brought home another daughter to the old
place. This is Lettice Jaffrey, in whose father's house I was
nursed back to life after the shipwreck. I wrote you that I
had sought her hand in marriage, but that her father refused
my suit. And after long waiting she has come away without
her father's consent, and if your dear heart has room for
one more child she will remain here and become Lettice
Lancaster."
Then Hilda slipped from out her father's arms, and catching
Lettice's hand placed it gently in the old nian's. For a
moment Humphrey Lancaster looked down into the pleading
young face before him, and then, smoothing the fair hair from
her brow, he stooped and kissed her, saying with old-fashioned
courtesy :
" My daughter, welcome home to Birchley."
And Lettice, glancing from him to his son, and then to
Hilda's laughing face, and thence to the shining eyes and
broadly grinning mouths of the negroes who clustered excitedly
about them all, felt her throat tighten with a little sob of joy.
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The river lay like a band of gold under the sun's level rays,
long blue shadows crept across the lawn under the trees, a
black and yellow oriole gleamed brightly for a moment in the
opalescent light of the dying day ; absolute peace seemed to
brood over the place. And to the young girl, weary after
months of strife and fear, it was in truth a gracious welcome
home.
The years immediately following the home-coming of Lettice
to Birchley were full of happiness. Sometimes her thoughts trav-
elled northward to the old town of Portsmouth in New England
and she longed for a reconciliation with her father, but the letters
which from time to time she wrote to him remained unanswered,
and after she had added to the undutifulness of wedding a
Catholic against her father's will the enormity (in that father's
eyes) of becoming herself a " Papist," she felt that there was
little hope left to her of a reconciliation with him. The only
news she received of him was something like a year after her
marriage, when one summer day there appeared at the door of
the manor house a tall, rawboned woman, with features as
rugged as the granite hills of the bleak New England country
whence she c<ime. Demanding, with much severity of manner,
to see the young mistress of Birchley, but refusing sharply to
cross the threshold of the house, she was left by the bewil-
dered and curiosity-devoured negro house-servant upon the door-
step until young Mrs. Lancaster could be summoned. The ne-
gro's curiosity was only heightened when he witnessed the
strange woman's reception, for to his amazement Lettice, ap-
proaching the door with some reluctance to meet a woman
whom the servant had described as "sure crazy," no sooner
saw her visitor than, with a little cry of delight and amazement,
she threw her arms about the stranger, saying :
" Debby ! Dear, dear old Debby ! "
And the old nurse, satisfied that she was welcome, explained
that life in the Jaffrey house at Portsmouth proving unbearable
without her young mistress, and, moreover, Mr. Jaffrey's tem-
per being worse than ever since his daughter's flight, she too
had come to Maryland to look after her dear " Miss " Letty,
and to work for her, " if they pleased."
So old Deborah became a member of the household at Birch-
ley, where she tyrannized lovingly over Gerrard and his wife,
and treated Humphrey Lancaster with stern but respectful
deference, and waged ceaseless warfare with the negroes
(whose good-natured laziness filled her New England soul with
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666 Lettice Lancaster's Son. [Feb.,
righteous indignation), and every Sunday, with a wonderful air
of stiff-necked virtue, trudged off to the Protestant church in
St. Mary's City.
During these happy years of Lettice Lancaster's early mar-
ried life the one blot was the shadow of religious persecution
which hung threateningly over Birchley, as it hung over every
Catholic household in the colony. The story of religious in-
tolerance in Maryland is too well known to demand retelling.
Nothing in the colonial history of America is sadder than that
chapter which tells us how the Puritans, welcomed by the Cath-
olic Marylanders with wide-armed hospitality and granted by
them full liberty of worship, no sooner became strong enough
than they turned and stabbed the breast upon which they had
found refuge and protection in their troubles.
The Puritan persecution, harsh and far-reaching while it
lasted, continued for six years, only to be succeeded by the
establishment by the crown, in 1692, of Protestant Episcopa-
lianism as ''the church" of the colony.
The persecution of the Catholics under the "established"
church was a long and peculiarly trying one. They were taxed
for the support of the Protestant clergy, forbidden to celebrate
Mass or to educate their children in the faith. Priests were
hunted down. Catholic laymen prohibited from appearing in
certain portions of the towns, and the sons of families of means
encouraged to apostasy by iniquitous legislation which turned
over to a Protestant son his Catholic father's property, as
though that father were dead. In short, all the hideous provi-
sions of the English penal laws were incorporated in the laws
made by the Protestant majority in Maryland ; and for eighty
years, until the Revolution swept away the last remnant of the
old anti-Catholic legislation,, the Maryland Catholics suffered
one long martyrdom. That many of the faithful fell away
from the church under this long-continued strain is doubtless
true, especially among the less wealthy classes upon whom the
fines and penalties fell with crushing force. The wealthier fami-
lies, by paying enormous bribes into the hands of their relent-
less persecutors, were able to continue in a measure the prac-
tice of their religion, though with constantly increasing difficul-
ty and danger. The Lancasters, thanks to their prominence in
the colony and to their wealth, had been able up to the time
of Lettice's arrival to maintain a private chapel at Birchley,
where Mass was said and to which the Catholics of the sur-
rounding country came secretly to worship and to receive
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sacraments. The length of time they might hope to keep their
chapel open depended upon the length of their purse and the
good-will of unscrupulous members of the two houses of Assem-
bly, in which no Catholic was allowed a seat. And when, twice
in each month, the good Jesuit father from Bohemia Manor,
who acted as pastor at Birchley, left his faithful little flock, it
was with sad misgiving that at his next visit he might find the
chapel closed and the generous patron of the mission in dur-
ance as an obstinate " popish recusant." But the years slipped
by without this last blow falling upon Humphrey Lancaster,
and five years after the coming of Lettice the old man passed
gently away, comforted by the last sacraments of the faith he
had held so strongly and lovingly, and solemnly adjuring his
children with his last breath to stand firm in that same faith
and to hand it on untarnished to the little Humphrey who
had been born to Gerrard and his wife two years before. With-
in four years from the death of her father-in-law Lettice was
a widow, and little Humphrey fatherless. Grief-stricken, assailed
by fear, the young mistress of Birchley, a prayer upon her lips,
her boy's hand clasped tightly in her own, turned from her
husband's grave to face the future as best she might.
One mild spring day, a few months after Gerrard Lancas-
ter's death, a horseman rode leisurely up the St. Mary's road
and turned into the avenue leading to Birchley Manor. The
great lawn was vividly green, nest-building birds chattered and
fluttered busily among the trees, the air was full of the
fragrance of locust-blossoms, and from the distant fields there
came the sound of the negroes' voices, singing as they worked.
The old mansion, with its open hall door, was the very picture
of a dignified and hospitable home, where peace and plenty
seemed to join hands, and the horseman paused to glance with
critical appreciation at its mellow, chocolate-colored walls, and
at the serenely beautiful world surrounding it. With a little
nod of approval the rider dismounted and proceeded to beat
an imperious summons upon the huge iron knocker. The sound
reverberated loudly through the quiet house, and roused to
instant action an old hound slumbering peacefully in a patch
of sunlight within the hall. The great creature, springing to
his feet, eyed the visitor solemnly for a moment, and, seemingly
disapproving of something in the man's appearance, welcomed
him with a deep-toned growl. Muttering an oath under his
breath, the stranger beat an impatient tattoo upon his high-
topped boots with his whip, and, keeping a careful eye upon
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668 Lettice Lancaster's Son, [Feb.,
the dog, waited an answer to his knock. Of the servant who
appeared he asked for Mrs. Lancaster, and giving his name as
" Cheseldyn Coode of Annapolis," strode into the drawing-room
to await her coming — the hound meanwhile taking up his
position in the drawing-room doorway, whence he kept vigilant
watch upon Mr. Coode of Annapolis, as though he feared that
gentleman had evil designs upon the place.
Lettice's fair face was paler than usual and her eyes full of
anxious questioning as she glided into the great shadowy room
and approached her visitor, the dog marching gravely by her
side and standing sentinel-like beside her chair when she was
seated. The name of Coode was a familiar one to Lettice and
carried with it harrowing associations, as it did to every Catholic
in Maryland. John Coode> a man of evil life and reputation,
was for a quarter of a century prominent in every anti-Catholic
outbreak in the colony, until his very name became a thing of
horror to the faithful. Early in his career he had attracted
attention by his diatribes against the " Papists " and the Jesuits,
coupled with outrageous lies regarding alleged " Popish " plots
to massacre the Protestants. Gathering a crowd of the baser
and more unscrupulous sort about him, he had practically thrown
the colony into a state of revolution, and was the inciting cause
of Marjdand being reduced, under William and Mary, from the
condition of a free palatinate to that of a crown colony.
Rewarded for his misdeeds by a seat in the House of Burgesses,
Coode was ever after notorious as a " priest-hunter " and per-
secutor, and waxed fat in pocket on the fines extorted from
the defenceless Catholics, until at last he died in the odor
of sanctity as a "staunch defender of throne and church."
With the knowledge of all these events vividly present in her
mind, Lettice waited with foreboding of evil to learn the object
of Cheseldyn's visit. Of him she knew little, save that he was
John Coode's son, a member of the Lower House of Assembly,
and reported in high favor with the authorities at Annapolis.
He was a tall, slender man, clothed in a riding suit of dark
green. His face was not ill-favored, but perfectly colorless,
while his eyes were set too close together and were half hidden
by heavy, drooping lids. He explained his visit by stating that
he was spending a short time in St. Mary's on government
business, that he had known Gerrard Lancaster in his youth,
and hearing of his death, had called to express his sympathy
for Gerrard's widow in her grief-stricken and lonely state. To
ill of which Lettice listened suspiciously, confident that there
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had never been any intimate association, much less any friend-
ship, between her visitor and her dead husband. Having apolo-
gized in this manner for his intrusion, Coode went on to chat
easily and pleasantly enough upon the ordinary topics of the
day — the last news from England, the latest social gossip of
Annapolis, the beauty of the country about St. Mary's, and
above all the peaceful charm of Birchley Manor. A half-hour
slipped past while he talked, and his hostess wondered vaguely
and fearfully what his visit really meant. At last he arose to
take his departure, and then for a moment the cloven foot
showed itself. He hinted gently that he knew of the devotion
of the Lancasters to the old faith, and professed himself,
although a staunch Protestant, not at all in sympathy with the
late John Coode's extreme views, and, with a thin smile, assured
Lettice that, as an unprotected woman, she might count upon
his influence, as a member of the Lower House and a man of
some little power with the government authorities, being used
to protect her from unpleasant, and in some cases, he was
sorry to say, necessary governmental interference on the score
of religion. Whereupon he departed, pausing for an instant to
suggest that it would give him the greatest pleasure, during
his sojourn in St. Mary's, if he might again call at " beautiful
Birchley." To Lettice's troubled assurance that she was not
receiving visits during her period of deep mourning, he replied
by a half-insolent smile and, mounting his horse, rode off down
the avenue, the old hound snarling a vindictive farewell from
the hall door.
That night Lettice sent a messenger to Bohemia Manor
with a letter to one of the Jesuit fathers who found refuge
there,. .telling him of the visit, of her fear, of some plot against
her and her boy, and begging for advice. Two days later the
messenger returned with the priest's reply. He too feared
that Coode's visit portended nothing good, and were it not
that a priest's presence in her house would only add to her
danger, he would come at once to Birchley to assist her, and
if affairs grew more complicated he should consider indiscretion
the better course and would come. Meanwhile he begged
Lettice to keep him informed of Coode's movements, and sug-
gested that to forbid that person her house would in all proba-
bility be a misstep on her part, as to make him angry would
only hasten his proceedings (in case he contemplated doing
anything against her religion), and in any case it would be
best for her to be in a position to watch him and use her
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670 Lettice Lancaster's Son. [Feb.,
woman's wit to frustrate his designs in the event. Bidding her
be brave and to pray without ceasing, the father ended his
letter with the sad news that they thought it best for Lettice's
safety that the usual semi-monthly Mass at Birchley be discon-
tinued while Coode remained in the neighborhood.
The unwholesome visitor prolonged his stay in St. Mary's
week after week, and not infrequently rode up the tree-bordered
avenue at Birchley, where his coolly insinuating presence grew
more and more hateful to its young mistress. Systematically
playing his part of a well-informed, well-mannered man of the
world, trying, out of the kindness of his heart, to relieve the
loneliness of a young and sorrow-stricken woman, he gradually
assumed a tone of easy familiarity towards Lettice that filled
her soul with loathing, but which her studied coldness and
efforts at repulsion were powerless to lessen. Knowing full
well how completely at his mercy she was, so far as the laws
of the persecuting government were concerned, she could only
hold him at bay so much as her woman's wit suggested, and
wait wearily for him to unmask his intentions. The Jesuit
father, to whom she wrote after each visit, was her only possi-
ble adviser, and the best one she could have, as she well knew.
But her heart ached for a confidant to whom she could talk,
and Hilda Lancaster being in a distant part of the colony, a wife
with cares of her own, Lettice turned to the old woman who
had been for years her faithful friend and servant — her old
nurse Deborah. Of Deborah's Protestantism there could be no
doubt whatever (it was distinctly of the militant order), but no
more could there be any doubt of her absolute honesty and of
her utter devotion to her ** Miss Letty." So to Deborah the
young mother confided her troubles and fears, crying -a little,
as had happened many times in the old Portsmouth days, upon
the warlike old creature's breast. Deborah's reception of her
mistress's confidence was characteristic — she declared her instant
determination to set the dogs upon Mr. Cheseldyn Coode of
Annapolis the very next time that gentleman showed his ** ugly,
pale face and baggy eye-lids at Birchley." But warned by
Lettice that for her safety they must not offend him before he
made some definite move against her, the old womaa promised
to smother her anger for the present, adding, however, that so
sure as her name was Deborah Clinch she would get even with
"that crawling viper of a Coode before the end."
Not until midsummer was past did Lettice's persecutor
divulge the object of his repeated visits to the manor, although
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for weeks before that time the hapless victim of his attentions
had suspected what he was after, and her suspicion over-
shadowed her every moment like some ugly dream. It was
one hot, pulseless day, when the ceaseless, metallic hum of the
cicadas beat with irritating monotony upon the heavy air, that
Mr. Cheseldyn Coode rode thoughtfully under the grateful
shade of the locust-trees bordering the drive at Birchley. He
was dressed with extremest care in dark blue, his linen of
sheerest weave, his ruffles of finest lace, well starched. There
was a queer look, half triumph, half doubt, in his pale face as
he mounted the steps between the tall, slim columns of the
portico. The weeks of fear through which Lettice had lived
since his first visit had left their mark upon her face, and there
were dark circles under her eyes and a thin line down her face
on each side of her mouth, as she came to him in the hot, still
afternoon.
"You look weary, madam,'' said Coode with odious sym-
pathy. " I fear you are ill.*'
" 'Tis the excessive heat, perhaps," returned Lettice, closing
her eyes a moment to shut out his all-too-smiling face.
" Mayhap. But whatever be the cause I regret it, for an
unkind fate makes me the bearer of bad news, and it cuts my
heart deeper than you can know, I fear, to add one tiny straw
to your already over-heavy burden."
The woman's hands clasped themselves tightly in her lap,
but she made no answer to his words. He waited a moment,
as though anxious that she should question him. At length he
went on in low-toned hesitancy:
"Some over-zealous upholder of the law has filed complaint
with the authorities in Annapolis anent the religious observ-
ances practised in this house." Again he paused, and again the
woman refused to question him.
" Believe me, my dear madam, it grieves me sorely to thus
trouble you. But 'tis surely best that you should know the
truth from one who would right willingly lay down his life to
serve you."
These words warned Lettice that the long-dreaded moment
was at hand, and she cried out quickly:
"Enough, sir! I do not ask nor wish your service. Neither
do I fear the vile threats you are the bearer of. No forbidden
religious services are held in this desolated house."
"How long since, may I ask?" rejoined the man, with
slightly raised brows.
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672 Lettice Lancaster's Son. [Feb.,
She hesitated a moment, and then her hatred for him con-
quered her hard-bought prudence, and she flashed out :
" Since your hateful presence in the neighborhood warned
me of some wicked plot"
"Ah! I had hoped our pleasant intimacy these few weeks
past had killed such foolish suspicions in your heart. And
though your words speak otherwise, I cannot believe you do in
truth quite hate me. Dear, dear Mrs. Lancaster, I beg you
for your own sake, for my sake, not to be rash ! Hate me, in-
sult me if you will, but allow me to serve you out of the great
love that my heart bears you.*'
For a moment the room seemed to Lettice to whirl about
her ; the noise of the cicadas outside the windows beat upon
her ears like tlie muffled drums of an advancing army ; she
strove to speak, but the words died upon her lips. Then she
was conscious that Coode was bending over her whispering.
"The peril to this house is greater than you think," he
said. " I alone can help you. As my wife you and yours will
be safe. I love you, Lettice."
She rose suddenly to her feet and faced him.
"What is your answer?" he asked.
" My answer ? Go ! — go before I call my negroes and order
them to drive you forth ! "
And as she stood facing him, with scorn upon her lips and
in her eyes, a boy's laughing voice sounded through the still
room, followed by the quick patter of boyish feet, and through
the open door came little Humphrey, his fair hair shining in a
stray sunbeam that stretched its thin length across the room.
On he came until he stood between his mother and the man,
looking wonderingly up at their white faces. Coode laid a hand
on the boy's shoulder, but the mother with quick motion drew
her child close to her, where he nestled, half frightened, against
her black gown, staring at her visitor with doubtful eyes.
"My little man," said that visitor, "what \% your religion?"
" I'm a Catholic, sir, like all the Lancasters," was the proud
response.
"And your mother teaches you the old faith, I take it?"
" Of course, sir ! " said the boy, glancing fondly at his
mother.
"Well, my fine lad, 'tis not lawful in Maryland for little
boys to be taught that religion, and sometimes they are taken
from mothers who refuse to obey the law."
"O mother! they couldn't take me from you, could they?'*
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1898.] Lettice Lancaster's Son. 673
whispered Humphrey in sudden terror, pressing close against
the black-gowned woman.
A shudder crept over Lettice's still figure, but she smoothed
her boy's hair reassuringly, while the man looked into her face
and asked :
" Is your decision yet the same ? "
In answer she pointed to the door, and something in her
glance made even Cheseldyn Coode's eyes drop in confusion.
For an instant he stood fingering his hat, then with a shrug
turned and left the room.
As the sound of his horse's hoofs died away the woman's
hard-earned composure gave way, and, falling upon her knees,
she gathered her boy into her arms, weeping over him and
caressing him with all a mother's grief and love, while the lad
clung to her, frightened into a child's wild paroxysm of tears.
The child's terrified cries pierced her heart with new pain, and,
smothering her own grief, she set herself bravely to comforting
and reassuring the little lad.
To the mother soothing her boy in the lengthening shadows
of the declining day came Deborah, ever alert, after one of
Coode's visits, for evil news. And Humphrey's tears being
dried — quickly as is the happy gift to childhood — and the child
busy at his play in a distant corner, Lettice, with hushed voice,
told the old woman of the afternoon's events.
** The wretch is but trying to frighten you, my child ! " cried
Deborah. " It could not happen that they'd take your son
from you ! "
" Oh, Debby ! 'tis the law. More than one child has been
taken from Catholic parents in this unhappy colony."
" God help us ! " returned the old woman with flashing eyes.
*' And they call themselves Christians ! Heathens and cannibals
more like, think 1 ! " Her glance travelled to Humphrey's form
in the distant corner. " The darling little one ! he must not
sleep the night under this roof. Depend upon it, mistress,
that fiend already has the papers in his possession to take the
boy. He'll have the sheriff of St. Mary's here before the
morrow."
" That's what I fear, that's what I fear ! " whispered Lettice,
striving to still the sobs that trembled upon her lips.
" Where can he go for safety ? "
"There's but one place, and that is many miles away."
"To the Fathers of Bohemia Manor?"
" Yes. I must set out with him so soon as 'tis twilight."
VOL. LXVI.— 43
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6/4 Lett ICE Lancaster's Son. [Feb.,
"You set out with him? You? You're mad, child! Tis
no task for a lady, and one that's already half dead from fear
and trouble."
" I must, Debby. There's none other to trust with him."
" And who and what am I, then ? " demanded Deborah with
wrathful mien.
"No, no. You're an old woman, and you don't know the
road. I could not ask — "
" 'Tis I am doing the asking, methinks. I've travelled the
road once. I've got eyes in my head, if 'tis an old one; and
not so old neither as some folks pretend to think."
" He is my child. I must be his protector," returned Let-
tice with a mother's love in her wet eyes.
Old Deborah's face softened, and she laid her hand caress-
ingly upon her young mistress's fair hair, as she used to do in
the days when that same mistress was a motherless girl in old
Portsmouth.
" Yes, my child," she said gently, " I know that. But if
they come here to-night and you are gone, they'll know at
once what's happened, and within the hour they'll be on your
trail. No one knows or thinks of old Debby, and I'll not be
missed. They'll most like come in and search the house — 'tis
a big one — and every hour they spend here gets me and little
Humphrey further away."
The shrewdness of the old woman's reasoning convinced
Lettice against her will. She knew that Deborah's plan was
the better one, but her mother-love fought hard against cold
reason, and not until her faithful friend had pleaded and argued
and scolded a bit did she consent, saying with a weary sigh :
"Oh, Debby! you don't know how it hurts me to let him
get beyond the reach of my arms."
That night the women's fears were verified. Before the
twilight had deepened into dusk the sheriff and his men were
at the hall door of Birchley demanding to see Mrs. Lancaster.
Shamefaced at the brutal work he was about, the sheriff pro-
ceeded to read the contents of a document which he produced
upon Lettice's appearance in the open door. It was to the
effect that, whereas one Lettice Lancaster, mistress of the Manor
of Birchley in his majesty's colony of Maryland, was known
to all men to be an obstinate and perverse adherent of the
" false, pernicious, and idolatrous Church of Rome," and was
moreover, to the scandal of all good citizens and in open de-
fiance of the laws of the colony, educating her son, a minor,
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1898.] Lettice Lancaster's Son. 675
"in the same papistical religion," it was deemed best by the
executive authorities of the colony, in order that " the cause of
scandal might be removed, the laws of the colony duly observed,
and the safety and welfare of his majesty's loyal subjects in
the said colony safeguarded," that the child Humphrey Lan-
caster be separated from his mother and guarded from her
" pernicious influence " until such time as that mother should
consent to educate her son in the religion " by law established,"
or until such time as the executive authorities deemed it proper
and best to return him to that mother's roof ; and further-
more, the executive authorities appointed **Cheseldyn Coode,
Esq., of the city of Annapolis, and a member of the Lower
House of Assembly, the child's legal guardian and protector."
Folding up his document, the sheriff demanded of Lettice if
she denied that she was a " papist " and was educating her
son in that religion. Upon her reply that she was a Catholic
and " with God's help " would so educate her son, he* called
upon his men to witness her words, and forthwith demanded
the boy's person. Never for a moment forgetting that time
was now her best servant, Lettice held the man at bay as
best she might, protesting against his searching the house and
making a pretence of trying to soften him into not executing
his orders, until at last, words failing her and her self-control
breaking under the strain, she stood aside and let him and his
companions enter the door.
As Deborah had said, the house was a big one and the
search was long, and when at length the men gave up all
hope of finding the boy and rode away down the shadowy
drive-way, the stars were shining and the night far advanced.
And through the night rode a woman with a child, already far
away to northward. On they fled swiftly, passing sometimes
into the black depths of the forest, then out again into the
pale, star-lit night. With tender whispered words the woman
comforted the boy whom she clasped tight with one arm, while
with the other she guided their already panting horse. With
sharp, peering eyes she watched the road, which was hardly
more than a bridle-path winding across the land. From time
to time she turned in her saddle and listened, but the rush of
the night air against her face, the clatter of her horse's hoofs,
and now and again the far-away howl of a dog guarding some
lonely farm-house, were the only sounds she heard. " Patience,
patience, little Humphrey!" she whispered. "The road is not
much longer. Be brave, little lad ! We'll soon be there."
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676 Lett ICE Lancaster's Son. [Feb^,
The night next succeeding the one of Deborah's flight one
of the fathers from Bohemia Manor appeared at Birchley. It
was a perilous undertaking, as Coode's men were on guard
about the place, and to be detected meant imprisonment for
the priest.
But nearly forty years of persecution and watching had
taught the Maryland Catholics, both clerical and lay, the neces-
sity of caution as well as boldness ; and Birchley Manor, like
many an old house in England, had its secret entrance and
carefully concealed " priest's room," known only to its masters
and the priests, so when the Jesuit father had successfully eluded
the vigilance of the guards, he had no difficulty in entering the
house unseen by any one save its mistress. Deborah and Hum-
phrey, he reported, had reached their destination in safety before
daybreak, and he — the priest — had started at once for Birch-
ley, travelling by circuitous ways in order to avoid meeting
any one whom Coode might have started in pursuit of the boy,
as there could be little doubt that that person was astute
enough to suspect where the child had been taken.
The boy was safe at Bohemia so long as he could be kept
in hiding, as they had a place of concealment which Coode's
men could hardly hope to penetrate. But he was safe there
only so long as he was hidden. The Jesuits lived in the colo-
ny at all only upon sufferance and in virtue of the payment of
continuous fines, and they could not at any time protect their
house from the invasion of spies ; and the moment little Hum-
phrey was allowed to cross the threshold of his hiding-place he
was in danger of being seized by the officers of the law. There
were cases in which they were able to keep boys entrusted to
their care ; but these were either the children of poor parents
whose earthly possessions were not of sufficient value to excite
the cupidity of the "hangers-on" of the government at An-
napolis, or else the children of wealthy persons who by the
payment of exorbitant fines were allowed by the persecutors
to elude the iniquitous laws relative to the education of chil-
dren. The father said that they had hoped this latter course
might be allowed them with the little Humphrey, and fearing
that Coode's continued presence in St. Mary's boded some ill
for the child, they had some weeks before appealed for infor-
mation to a man of position in Annapolis (who was secretly a
sympathizer with the Catholics in their troubles) and only the
day preceding Deborah's arrival at their house had received
some information from him. But it was, alas ! only too unfavor-
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able. No bribe could be eflfectual with Cheseldyn Coode short of
Mrs. Lancaster's hand and the possession of Birchley Manor, and
already.he had hinted to his more intimate associates that the
day of his marriage to the young mistress of Birchley was fast
approaching. He was noted as an obstinate and unscrupulous
man, and so long as Humphrey Lancaster was under age and
Coode retained a vestige of political influence in the colony
the boy was in instant danger.
Thus far the priest went in his report and then stopped
suddenly, looking with pitying eyes at Lettice*s eager, fright-
ened face, as though he dreaded to speak further.
"What must we do, father?" she implored with, white,
trembling lips. " Surely, surely you in your wisdom can devise
some means of escape for my child.*'
" I have prayed for help to tell you of the only means I
know. You must pray for help to hear it, for 'tis, I fear, a hard
thing to bear," returned the priest.
" Go on ; I will be brave," replied the woman.
" There is no place of safety for him in this colony, and no
place outside it on this side the ocean where he can be edu-
cated in the faith."
"Then he and I will leave the country and find a home
across the sea. Ah ! father, your advice is not so hard to bear,"
cried Lettice, with a wan smile.
" Wait ! " he replied. " My daughter, you forget that you
have a double duty towards your child. Besides your duty
towards his soul there is a duty to be performed for his
temporal welfare. You hold these broad acres of Birchley
Manor in trust for your son. Can you abandon that duty ?
Who will safeguard his possessions if you too flee the country ?
Upon whom could you call to protect this old home from the
designs of your enemies ? Ah ! my child, there is, I fear, no
one willing to take that burden off your shoulders save the
Fathers of Bohemia Manor, and we are powerless to aid you in
that way ; the laws would not for one moment permit us so to
do. If Humphrey goes, he must go without you."
" Without his mother? No, no ! He is but a babe, father !
He needs me. Don't, don't ask it of me." She had risen to
her feet and was grasping the priest's arm with convulsive
hands. " Oh ! father, don't you understand ? He is all that is
left to me in this desolate world, and I love him so — 1 love
him so ! I cannot, will not give him up ! "
"With God's help, my daughter, we can do all things,"
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678 Lettice Lancaster's Son. [Feb.,
said the priest, looking sorrowfully into the woman's quivering
face. Then, taking her hand, he led her quietly into the dim
chapel, where a votive lamp burned always before a picture of
the great Mother who has known all pain, all sorrow, and,
gently forcing the wildly sobbing woman to her knees, went
away and left her in mightier hands than his.
Through long hours Lettice lay prone upon the floor before
our Lady of Sorrows, but when at last, before the break of
dawn, she came forth again, the priest knew that she had
conquered. Swiftly then he explained to her that one of the
fathers was about starting for Europe, that he would take
Humphrey with him, and, escaping at once into Pennsylvania,
would make his way in safety to Philadelphia and there take
ship as soon as possible for France. And upon his arrival there
would proceed to St. Omer's in Belgium, where he would leave
the boy in care of the English Jesuits until such time as he
could in safety return to Maryland.
" It may be many years, my daughter," he concluded, " before
he can in safety return to you. May God help and cherish you
both till then ! ".
"With His help, father, I will be brave, be the time long or
short," murmured the woman, and then sinking to her knees,
she received the priest's blessing, before he left her, as the
approaching dawn warned them both that he must do at once
if he was to escape detection.
Eleven years dragged their weary length over the world
before Lettice Lancaster's son was restored to her — years the
harder to bear from many petty persecutions that Cheseldyn
Coode, in his rage, was able to shower upon her defenceless
head. But the knowledge that he was foiled in his worst effort,
that her son was safe from his evil clutch, helped her to bear
her burden. And now at last the struggles of those eleven
years of hungry mother-love, of trials and bereavement bravely
born, were to be rewarded. Her son was coming home to her
safe in the faith of his fathers, while the rich earthly heritage
left in her care for him lay undiminished about her, ready for
delivery to him when he should come of age. In the gloom
of a late November afternoon she stood watching and waiting
in the doorway at Birchley, as twenty years before old
Humphrey Lancaster had waited and watched for his children.
Beside her stood the faithful Deborah, to whom the anxious
mother turned again and again to say, " It surely must be time
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for the boy to come.*' Both women were older in looTcs, and
the younger one sadly changed by the years that had passed.
And that morning she had said, half-sorrowfuUy, half-laughingly
to Deborah that her boy was coming home to a faded, ugly
old mother indeed. But the face looking out so eagerly into
the misty November twilight was not ugly — faded indeed and
worn, but beautiful still in its strength and sweetness.
At last, when the white mist from the river was fast creep-
ing over the land, the roll of wheels far down the roadway
greeted her listening ears, and soon the whrte-headed negro
coachman drew up with his old flourish before the door, and a
straight, slender figure leapt quickly out. Lettice's breath came
in a sudden gasp as he ran towards her up the steps, so like
was he to her dead husband ; but old Deborah, watching him
with proud glance, said under her breath, " He has his mother's
eyes, God bless him ! "
For long precious minutes his mother's arms held him close;
then releasing him, she said :
**My son, you have not forgotten our dear Deborah, to
whom you and I owe so much." And the boy taking Deborah's
wrinkled face between his hands, kissed her fondly and cried :
"Forget her, mother? 'Twould be hard to say for whom I
have most longed all these years — you or her ! "
" Tut, tut ! Master Humphrey, a fine fool you and your
mother are trying to make of old Debby. And I'm thinking
you'd be at better work taking your mother in out of this chill
mist, rather than cozening an old woman who's done naught
to deserve it/* replied the old creature sharply.
But there were tears in her eyes and a smile upon her lips
as she followed the mother and son into the house and closed
'the great hall door.
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68o Practical Citizenship. [Feb.,
PRACTICAL CITIZENSHIP.
No. II.
BY ROBERT J. MAHON,
PEOPLE first waking from a period of political
lethargy will not at once gain substantial success.
Uneasy and abortive efforts may first result only
in the mere expression of political unrest. Time
was when a political party held control in a
general sense for a long period, and a majority of the people
continued to allow it. But in recent times no party has been
continuously sustained in power longer than a few years. The
chief executive was of one party from i860 to 1884, and before
this >poch another party had almost continuously held that
office. It is not meant by this that full and exclusive control
in legislation remained with one side, but the principal execu-
tive offices were continuously held. This continuity in power
is significant when contrasted with present conditions.
We are now experiencing sudden shocks and upheavals at
almost every general election. That which was once almost
certain is now most uncertain. And this remarkable change is
at times emphasized by astounding majorities that clamorously
express the desire for change. We are living in a time of poli-
tical " tidal waves," " cyclones," and " blizzards," as the par-
tisan press loves to express it. Now no party or candidate
long remains satisfactory ; we are on a political seesaw, with
the party managers reaching success or overwhelmed in defeat
at short intervals. It is, of course, within the knowledge of
all, that political vigilance in many instances tends to rebellion
against existing systems, and a desire to run matters on an
independent plan is the usual result. Testing present condi-
tions by this mode of expression, we find a very noteworthy
phase of the new political life. No less than fifty-nine inde-
pendent bodies have, in as many cities and towns, organized
within the past six years for political action ; yet the substan
tial benefits to the people are not all that can be desired.
But it all shows activity in the nation ; perhaps immature, in
effectual, and doubtless without much cohesion or special aim
In many instances the people have put down one party and
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taken up on trial another, which in turn is found to prove un-
satisfactory. In other cases, city charters have been amended,
supposedly for improvement, or new legislation has been brought
about, which was falsely thought to be automatic or self-enforcing.
When we come to consider the actual performance of politi-
cal duties cast upon citizenship, we are at once confronted with
the party system of political control, which is that whereby men
become part of and act with the political party that most
nearly represents their ideas of what is desirable and attainable
in our government. Or, if that should not appear practicable,
they have, of course, the opportunity to join an independent
body, when sufficient cohesion and public support warrants
such action. To this we shall refer in a subsequent paper. But
at the outset we wish to say, with all emphasis possible, that
we do not mean to favor or oppose the great political parties
that so generally direct our civic affairs. Whenever benefits
or advantages are referred to or seeming danger pointed out,
all these organizations are entitled to equal credit or discredit.
To write the truth is the main thing in this discussion. It
matters not to us here in what proper channel a man directs
his political energies, provided his motive is patriotic and his
mind unbiased. Party action is so habitual with most of us
that when one refers to issues political, the question of party
policy on these issues immediately follows. Briefly condensing
the purposes of political parties in this country, they are said
to be : first, to preserve free government by advocating a cer-
tain policy of legislation or control ; second, to keep its fol-
lowers in a permanent body ; and third, to keep alive the
people's interest in public affairs, and get the support of the
majority of the citizens. In its relation to the citizen gener-
ally, each party acts on the theory that its particular policy has
all that is good in government, and nothing that is ill. Each
fully and thoroughly excludes the other from all ability to give
a real benefit to the nation, state, or city. To carry out these
objects the party resolves itself into collective bodies, the
most compact, typical form being the county organization. As
in true democracy political action must come from the people,
the party organization is made representative by the district
primary election. And it is here one must begin with his as-
sociates, if any practical work is to be done through the party.
For it is at this local and too unfrequented election that the
party representatives of his district are chosen, with full power
to» act in and form a part of the county organization, and with
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682 Practical Citizenship. [Feb.,
delegated power to nominate and adopt policies at the con-
ventions. That is why the primary becomes at times the
storm centre of political zeal.
The political organization suggests an army, made up of its
varied divisions ; compact, disciplined, and under the guidance of
recognized leaders, the policy of the party on particular issues
being moulded by the nominating conventions and expressed
in the platforms. Thus, in a general sense, the nominating
primaries which elect the convention delegates affect the policy
and the personnel of the candidates who are chosen to carry it
out ; and the organization primaries elect the various leaders,
sub-leaders, and the executive body having the actual direction
of party business. These observations apply to the general
working of the party systems, and while they differ in detail in
some respects, the variances are unimportant to a general view
of the subject. It is easily apparent that a comparatively few
men can, if allowed, arrange this simple machinery so that
their desired result will be accomplished. If only a few take
part, and they have a selfish interest in the result, aiming
either for official pay or for power, the general effect will not
be patriotic. Yet the system is about as fairly representative
as large bodies can be made for political action. If the people
insist on remaining politically dormant, or continuing spineless,
and their actual representatives do not fairly represent, the
blame is easily fixed. There is no mystery about it, and no
warrant for an outcry against republican institutions.
One of the chief benefits claimed for the party system is,
that responsibility is easily fixed and incompetency or bad
faith easily punished. The party claims, the praise won by its
men in office, and must be ready to accept deserved criticism.
The official is supposed to represent the party which stands
accountable to the people. It is supposed that when the party
men in office beccime unsatisfactory the party is voted out,
and when satisfactory they are maintained in place. So that
among the officials there is strong motive for co-operation in
what may be supposed to be satisfactory to the people.
Acting along these lines, it is clear that the party must ex-
ercise a strong influence on the candidate in office ; and when
the office requires the making of appointments, the organiza-
tion will be likely to have much to do therewith. So that, in
fact, the organization has much practical work in carrying
out what would usually be the logical work of the conven-
tion. If, as we have seen, the convention names the candidates
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and adopts the policy, it might appear that the party work
was then done ; but when the party assumes full accountabil-
ity for official conduct, and guards it with solicitude, party in-
fluence naturally becomes a part of the administration. Even
in the beginning of the party system, in this country, the
notion was common that the main reliance should be on
party fealty. Jefferson wrote March 23, 1801, concerning re-
movals intended by him when President:
"The courts being so decidedly federal and irremovable, it
is believed that republican attorneys and marshals, being the
doors of entrance into the courts, are indisputably necessary as
a shield to the republican part of our fellow-citizens, which I
believe is the main body of the people " (Vol. iii. p. 464).
The oath of office was, of course, one guarantee of even ap-
plication of the law ; but party loyalty was supposed to give
additional assurance and security to the people designated as
" republican.'* This term was applied to the ** Democratic Re-
publican " party, then the opponents of the so-called ' Federal-
ists.'* Yet in all fairness it should be said that the courts were
above suspicion, and Jefferson's solicitude was in fact gratuitous.
Still party influence on the administration of public office may
be a serious danger, when one party has an overwhelming and
permanent majority, and the people avoid their political business.
Senator Benton, referring to the abuse of party influence, said :
" An irresponsible body, chiefly self-constituted and being
dominated by professional office-seekers and office-holders,
have usurped the election of President — for the nomination is
the election so far as the party is concerned — and always mak-
ing it with a view to their own profit in the monopoly of office
and plunder" {Thirty Years' View^ Benton, vol. ii. p. 787).
But the long-time senator by no means intended to deny
the doctrine of party responsibility in the sense of the party
abstaining from office. Speaking of putting his party men in
the places, he says : " The principle is perfect, and reconciled
public and private interest with party rights and duties. The
party in power is responsible for the well-working of the gov-
ernment and has a right, and is bound by duty to itself, to
place its friends at the head of the different branches " {Ibid,,
vol. i. p. 163).
The party system has the advantage of having been the
working political system of the passing century, and is entitled
to much respect on that account alone. It lays claim to what-
ever public good has been obtained, and must bear the burden
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684 Practical Citizenship. [Feb.,
of whatever ill can be fairly cast upon it. It is recognized by
the statutes of this State. And whenever political action is
touched by legislation, the party method is generally favored.
Party nominations are more easily made under existing laws
than independent nominations. Even to nominate a candidate
for the State Assembly, an independent body must have the
signatures of five hundred citizens of the assembly district, as
well as their affidavits verifying their choice and their qualifi-
cations as voting citizens (Laws 1896, ch. 909, sec. 57). In the
party nomination for the same office the certificate of the
officers of the district convention suffices, although probably
not one hundred citizens paid the slightest attention to the
convention even by attendance (sec. 56). The mere method of
voting by party at a general election is much easier, as every
one knows ; a single mark being sufficient to vote all the party
candidates. Touching those official boards or commissions
known as " bi-partisan," eminent lawyers, who are party men,
have contended that the legislature really meant that the par-
ties should select their candidates for appointment; that the
party organization was to nominate, and the executive act
formally on their selection. But this is probably too extreme a
view, as such a construction would probably be held to be un-
constitutional. It would in effect give the power of appoint-
ment to the party organization ; thus delegating the exercise of
appointment, and besides making a political test for office
{Comparative Administrative Law^ Goodnow, vol. ii. pp. 22-27).
Express legislation now regulates party action at the primaries,
compelling fair notice to all citizens and insuring an honest
count. In 1897 penalties for violation of these statutes were
enacted, and the primary inspector or the voter who intend in-
justice must now brave criminal prosecution (Laws 1897, ch. 255).
But if we write in the spirit of truth we cannot fail to note
some of the claimed obstacles to fair treatment in party ac-
tion. Without some reference to these features our discussion
would be reasonably open to the charge of deception. As our
endeavor is to show the necessity for public, as against private,
action in civic business, and then to urge the people to action
of some kind, we must be candid if we would enjoy atten-
tion. It is often said that those earnestly desiring to act with-
in their party for honest reform measures are elbowed out of
the primaries by various irregular methods; that the ways
contrived to beat honest majority opposition are so changeable,
and yet so grievously effectual, that self-respecting men are
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1898J Practical Citizenship. 685
soon discouraged. A peculiar instance related by an authentic
witness is not without its humorous side. In a certain town
some years ago the opposition, after much difficulty, found the
place for the holding of the primary election to be in a re-
mote corner of the district. The inspectors or election officers
were confined in a small room adjoining a larger one in which
the voters gathered ; the door connecting the rooms being
closed and locked, two peep-holes being cut in the door, and
access to the smalt room being absolutely cut off. The voters
of the opposition had a colored ballot for purposes of easy
identification, and thrust these through the peep-holes — a kind
of secret ballot of a primeval age. And although their actual
majority was a large one, the official report declared that they
were in an absurdly small minority. When the matter was be-
yond repair, it transpired that the opposition ballots were in
large number torn up in the secret enclosure and never counted ;
but there being no "eye-witness," so to speak, the charge was
in a practically political sense said to be a trifling one, born of
disappointment. But situations like these are possible only be-
cause dishonesty will shove honesty aside, if it can, whenever
the opportunity offers substantial reward, and practical politi-
cians have been sometimes of the opinion that when you have
primary inspectors with you the election goes with you. Of
course kindred abuses and practices have existed, else the en-
actment in 1897, before referred to, as to primary elections
would never have been conceived. All weil-advised persons
will admit that the enactment of remedies and penalties always
follows and never precedes the wrongs they are supposed to cor-
rect. It is, happily, generally thought that the remedy will be
as effectual as it has been in its previous application to the
general elections, now so fairly and honestly conducted.
Recent legislation has not done much, however, to establish
one's legal right to act within the party through the primaries.
The statutory qualification reads : " No person shall be en-
titled to vote at any primary unless he may be qualified to vote
for the officers to be nominated thereat^ on the day of election.
They shall possess such other qualifications as shall be authorized
by the regulations and usages of the political party or independent
body holding the same" (Laws 1896, chap. 909, sec. 53).
This in substance still leaves the right with the party or-
ganizations to add restrictions or to open wide the door for
actual free expression. The avowed reason for leaving this
very substantial power with the party organization is the sup-
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686 Practical Citizenship. • [Feb.,
posed danger of attack from the other party. It is said that
without suitable restriction those of the other political faith
might enter the primary, disrupt the organization, nominate
dangerous men, adopt radical measures, and bring ruin to the
party. But whether this danger will ever be so imminent as
to warrant the repose of such power within the organization, is
open to much question. In all reform measures within a party
the men in control are the real objects of opposition, and they
would, if ordinarily human, adopt such requirements for en-
trance to the primary as to make the opposition generally in-
effective.
The " regulations " defining the " qualifications " of a voter
at a primary election we learn from the constitutions and by-
laws of the organizations. They may be assumed as authentic,
as they were furnished by the proper officials of the organiza-
tions. The usual requirement is the profession of the political
faith of the party, but tested in various ways. In one organi-
zation one must be a member of the district organization for
a certain period. Admission to this may be had by a sworn
statement that one has voted the entire ticket at the previous
election. If there is objection, and the inspectors of election
report adversely, then a two-thirds vote is required to elect.
But the central body reserves the right to ** abolish and super-
sede" any district organizations. Another party organization
has a seemingly broader qualification, admitting to a primary
vote all voters of that faith "acting in unison" with that or-
ganization ; but there are no available definitions of " acting in
unison." The statutory term " usages " was an unfortunate
selection as a qualification, because so incapable of definite
proof. But most people say that the general " usage " is to
broaden the entrance in times of unanimity, and to make it
as narrow as possible when opposition arises.
It is only when we come to act in opposition to the peo-
ple managing party affairs that we shall find obstructions.
The wonderful unanimity of party organization itself strongly
tends to prove the obstructions to be serious ones. It is sig-
nificant that the opposition is generally kept outside and not
allowed within what is technically known as the organization.
It may surprise some to find this power of expelling disagreea-
ble opposition and compelling harmony, to be a legal right
reposed in the central body of the organization. For instance,
it is the legal right of one party — that is, one organization — to
disapprove and thus annul any nomination made by a conven-
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tion. But this right is so seldom exercised as not to be
generally known, and some of the members of that organiza-
tion will deny the fact as thoroughly autocratic.
Another organization, acting through its central body, has
the power, under its constitution, to •abolish and supersede "
any of its district organizations — a seemingly effectual antidote
to opposition. Again, in deciding contests between the opposition
and those in control, the central body, whether state or county, is
the court of final resort. (Matter of Fairchild, 151 N. Y. Rep. 359.)
The Court of Appeals in that case states in its opinion :
" We think that in cases where questions of procedure in
conventions, or the regularity of committees, is involved, which
are not regulated by law, but by party usages and customs,
the officer called upon to determine such questions should fol-
low the decision of the regularly constituted authorities of the
party, and courts, in reviewing the determination of suqh
officers, should in no way interfere with such determination."
Probably the best way to prevent advance in political
methods is to aim at Utopian ends. The men who disregard
actual conditions and declaim in high-sounding generalities are
never seriously regarded by the professionals. But when you
face actual conditions you have at least some practical notion
of the work before you. And to do anything politically one
must realize the distinction between a "party" and its "organ-
ization." The former we will find to be the great body of
people who habitually vote for the candidates standing for that
political faith. The organization is a numerically small com-
pany which controls the party, selecting all the officers, nominat-
ing all the candidates, and guiding the candidates after election.
. Let us assume for the moment that the organization is
heart and soul for good government, and let us look at it
working out that end. The central body controls the conduct
of the primary elections, as we have seen, and can vary the
qualifications of voters. All who are opposed to good govern-
ment are excluded from the primaries by various legal qualifi-
cations or restrictions. It may happen that nearly all the
haters of good government will remain away, become suddenly
inactive, and the good result inevitably follows. So we now
have an organization zealous for the public good, and conven-
tions eager to nominate the most capable candidates for the
offices. Nothing now remains except electing the men thus
selected. To do that a strong appeal is made to the party,
the body of habitual voters. To the discontented, those who
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688 Practical Citizenship. [Feb.,
are against good government, an urgent plea is sent, beseech-
ing them to remain loyal, to forget their exclusion from the
primaries, and — vote the straight ticket for good government.
If the discontented are convinced that the candidates will in
fact give no better govtirnment than will those of the other
side, loyalty will probably win. And so generally, under ordi-
nary conditions, the political end attained is that which is
selected by the organization and carried out by the party
votes. In local matters it is also generally true that wherever
the central body of the organization points, there the party
will usually go. Visible barriers will not be raised against oppos-
ing classes ; a strong appearance of representation will be main-
tained, and the result is hailed as the working of the people.
But in deciding as to how a man should act politically,
whether with or against any certain party policy or practice,
the main test is — is there patriotism in it? Is the actual
motive love of power or of money, or is it love of country.^
We are not, it is hoped, so degenerate as a nation that it can
be said with truth that ** our prevailing passions are ambition
and interest ; and it will ever be the duty of a wise govern-
ment to avail itself of these passions in order to make them
subservient to the public good '* (Elliot's Debates, vol i. p. 439).
When the great Hamilton expressed this view of American
national instinct we are pleased to think he referred more
particularly to the political mercenaries of his day and foresaw
the possibility of their power in later generations. Honesty is
more common than dishonesty, and the patriots far outnumber
the mercenaries. We are not the sordid, self-seeking people
that some public servants in high places would paint us. The
unfriendly foreign press is not apt to point out our con-
spicuous civic virtue, and it now has much to say of degenerate
public spirit in our towns and cities. As others see us, we
may look weak and incapable. Yet the false view of our
public life in part issues from our own land, and gives color to
the foreign false report of our incapacity for self-government.
If we present notable examples of unpunished malfeasance
in office, and reward with high public place those least entitled
to the honor, we can scarcely escape censure from the looker-
on from Europe. Put aside all prejudice and partisan spleen,,
and ask yourself whether you have ever, by act or omission^
helped on the road to preferment those of mean spirit and
reckless greed. If you have, then you have also helped to
spread the blight of degeneracy on American civic life.
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1898.1 The Child-Study Congress. 689
THE CHILD-STUDY CONGRESS.
[N the days when "news" has passed into history
and the Child-Study Congress held in Columbus
Hall during the last days of 1897 is viewed from
such a distance as assures fixity of proportion,
the full significance of the fact will be seen that
the first congress of the kind ever convened in New York City
met under Catholic auspices, accepting the hospitality of the
only religious Congregation created for the sole work of the
conversion of America. Students of that day, delving into con-
temporary periodical literature to discover the mental attitude
of the time, will find a leading politician stating, in that number
of the most distinctly national of our reviews which was issued
while the Congress was in session, that " any careful observer in
the city of New York can see that the only people, as a class,
who are teaching the children in the way that will secure the
future for the best civilization are the Catholics,'* and that,
"although a Protestant* of the firmest kind," he believes the
time has come to recognize that fact. » :
Although not large in numbers, the Congress was composed
of men and women who represented the most powerful trencfs
of modern thought, and an estimate of its ultimate weight can
be formed by comparing it with a like gathering — that of the
Apostolate of the Press — held in the same hall in 1891. Out of
that convention rose directly the building and -work of the Catho-
lic Book Exchange, which is flooding the country, with the be«t
religious literature in the cheapest form. Its logical outcome
was the formation of the Catholic Summer-School, whose far-
reaching influence on American life has already been simply
incalculable. Just at the point when the whole teaching world
of preachers, lecturers, writers, and instructors is veering back to
recognition of the fact that education must have a spiritual
basis ; when pseudo-political men are saying that democracy
cannot exist sans religion ; this band of educationists has met to
reassert the principles which have governed Christian education
from the fourth century and which are being foisted on the.
unthinking public as new discoveries!
♦ Hon. Amasa Thornton in North American Review for January, 1898.
VOL. LXVI. — 44
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690 The ChilD'Study Congress. [Feb.,
This Congress was planned at the last session of the Sum-
mer-School, when its committee was appointed, consisting of
Mrs. B. Ellen Burke, Secretary ; Miss Kate G. Broderick and
Miss Anna A. Murray, with Rev. Thomas McMillan, C.S.P.,
as chairman.
" The educational world," says Mrs. Burke, " is still develop-
ing the subject, rather than the child. Men and women are
teaching arithmetic, geography, history, rather than teaching
the child. Therefore earnest people came together from all
parts of the country, with no limitation — priest and people, lay
folk and religious — ^to study the child. We wanted not only
teachers and parents, but theologians. In a question of such
importance as educating souls for eternity there are dangers.
Child-study has reyx>)-utionized the courses of instruction in our
public schools. Many of us are public-school teachers. If we
are wrong in our methods, we are very wrong, and we wanted
to be set right. The Committee of Ten did fairly well at ar-
ranging a course of public-school study from their stand-point.
Why should we not have our Committee of Ten ? "
Probably no report of any committee ever more deeply
affected the labor of the class of workers for whom it was pre-
pared than the report issued in 1892 by that same Committee
of Ten, headed by President Eliot, of Harvard. It may fairly
be said to have orrafed a new* system of secondary education
throughout our public schools. The committee was formed, it
will be recalled, on account of the complaints of the examin-
ing boards of Hacyard and other leading colleges that the ex-
aminees who came^before-them were lamentably deficient in
ordinary English and elementary science, and had, as a rule,
a most defective idea of the correlation of studies. A fine
geographical paper might, it was said, be presented, whose
spelling was atrocious and whose grammar and punctuation
were at variance with nearly every one of the laws dis-
tinctly and clearly set forth in the same candidate's pa4>ers on
grammar and rhetario.
Catholic thought, as set forth at this Congress, demands
a further correlation — that of the duties of the child to God,
to Humanity, and to Himself ! Wide-reaching as were the sub-
jects discussed, each was almost unconsciously dealt with un-
der these three relations — old as the first chapter of Genesis,
instinctive to any Catholic child.
The first meeting, under the genial presidency of Rev,
Thomas McMillan, C.S*P., was scarcely typical of those to follow,
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except in the originality of Father McMillan's observations on
the genus newsboy, under which he had discovered the species
" full-fledged monopolist," offering the privilege of working for
him to other " kids with good clothes," whom he " never paid
unless they kicked." The comparatively small attendance on
this first night was regrettable on account of the weight of the
papers read. That by Rev. Morgan M. Sheedy is printed in
extenso elsewhere. Rev. Daniel O'Sullivan, of St. Albans, Vt.,
spoke on Incentives to Patriotism^ deprecating the cultivation of
that spurious kind which is only a mixture of conceit and self-
ishness spread over a larger surface, and giving practical hints
as to the means of cultivating a wholesome and resultful love
of country.
Wednesday morning showed the real composition of the
Congress. Teachers of parochial and public schools from Bos-
ton to Chicago were gathered, eager for information and discus-
sion. Revs. Walter Elliott and A. P. Doyle, C.S.P., spared
the time from their arduous missionary and literary labors to
take active part in the proceedings. Many members of teach-
ing orders, including Brother Justin of the Christian Brothers,
were present. Among those teaching orders whose rule of
enclosure or whose distance from New York did not permit
them to be present, many were represented by secular dele-
gates. The cordial interest of all these shows that our Ameri-
can nuns fully realize the necessity which Cardinal , Vaughan
has so impressed of late upon their English sisters in religion —
that consecrated educators must be able to defy state competi-
tion by the excellence of their work.
Rev. James P. Kiernan, of the Cathedral, Rochester, struck
the keynote — or the dominant triple chord ! — of the Congress at
once. Education was the end to be attained. Instruction was
only one of the meaifs to that end. If we were to educate the
child, we were responsible for his. physical, mental, and moral
development. Of these, the moral development was the most
important once we admitted the existence of an immortal soul.
It was impossible for the teacher in the state school to place
morality upon any secure basis, for religion was its only sure
basis, and religion she . must not teach. It was erroneous to
think that there was no real education worth talking about till
Pestalozzi and Rousseau came along in the eighteenth century.
Nothing could be more false. It was true that the methods
adopted in the early and middle ages were not suitable for the
nineteenth century. It was not true that those methods were
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692 The ChilD'Study Congress. [Feb.,
not valuable for the times and the circumstances under which
they existed.
En passant^ we wonder if the '< original " geniuses of each
generation are not • really the conservative folk who cliug so
strongly to centuries-old principles as to be sure they are not
worn out, and who are, therefore, willing to be at the trouble of
finding out how to apply them to needs immanent and immi-
nent? More than one point in Fathers Kiernan and Doyle's
addresses recalled to us the educational writings of Jacqueline
Pascal, that great woman, heretical in dogma, but thoroughly
orthodox in her penetrative adhesion to the fundamental prin-
ciples of soul-culture, most modern in her insistence on the re-
moval of occasions of sin and on keeping the weak child from
the fire of temptation till its jelly-like moral nature has set in
the mould of habit.
Rev. A. P. Doyle, referring to an unvoiced dread among
many people of what is called in its broadest sense a Socialis-
tic uprising, maintained that the best remedy is the teaching
of a patriotic civism. It is needful not to wait till the child
has grown, he said, to do this work, as the religious organiza-
tions in the non-Catholic world are doing, but to begin it in
childhood by fostering the religious sentiment, and with it the
moral virtues. Child-culture is character-building. Character
must be built as a tree grows, from without. The best char-
acter should be self-reliant. Some natures may be soft, and
so much the more need is there of a mould that is shaped and
strengthened by religious principles. The great work in child-
culture is to develop a conscience which at all times may be
the guide. He felt that nothing like sufficient use was yet
made of the inexhaustible treasure of wisdom and incentive
hidden away in musty volumes of saint-Iore, and gave three
charming storiettes to prove his point. In the middle of
one we heard a whisper of "Who was St. Macarius?" which
added further weight to his assertion.
Rev. Peter O'Callaghan, also of the Paulists, took up The
Child's Relations to His Spiritual Adviser, dwelling upon the
child-need of a confidant. In a retreat he had given in a
Western college the Protestant boys insisted on confessing to
him as well as the Catholic. Other bodies toiled for university
extension. "Be ours to labor for 'monastic extension' — to
study the science of Christian perfection so thoroughly that
we may be able to lead on the child from that state of infan-
tine perfection which our Lord commanded us to imitate so
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skilfully that it shall never lose its frank, unselfish love, its
true and simple faith. It is our business to know how the life
of contemplation may be blended with the life of action — how
to popularize ascetic theology and bring it within the scope of
the young minds who are in our keeping."
The freest and liveliest discussion followed all papers. Rev.
William J. Fitzgerald, of Lambertville, N. J., one of the first
graduates of the Catholic University and president of its Alumni
Association, took a leading part in this.
Several times the platform was given over entirely to ladies.
Miss Matilda J. Karnes, of Buffalo High School, offered a strong
paper on A Neglected Element in Altruistic Teachings i. ^.,
kindness to animals. Her statements concerning the vivisection
practised in some public schools were shocking in the extreme,
coming, as they did, from no narrow-minded woman, but from
one of wide and long opportunity for studying the development
of character in children of both sexes and of all ages up to
adolescence. She quoted a letter written on the subject to Dr.
Albert Leffingwell by the late Cardinal Manning :
Archbishop's House, Westminster.
Dear Sir : The Catholic Church has never made any authori-
tative declaration as to our obligations toward the lower animals,
but some Catholics have misapplied the teaching of moral the-
ology to this question. We owe duties to mpr^l agents. The
lower animals are not moral agents, therefore it is taught that
we owe them no moral duties ; but this is all irrelevant. We
owe to ourselves the duty not to be brutal or cruel ; and we
owe to God the duty of treating all His creatures according
to His own perfections of love and mercy. "The righteous
man is merciful to his beast."
Believe me, Yours faithfully,
Henry E., Cardinal- Archbishop.
An otherwise admirable paper, on the Influence of Patriot-
isfHy was marred by a possibly unintentional slur upon the
" sentimental patriotism " of John Brown. However one may
regard the reasonableness of John Brown's aspirations or his
mode of realizing them, " sentimental " is not the word to ap-
ply to convictions for whose sake a man spends strength
and substance, and passes tranquilly to an ignominious death.
So laborious and unimpassioned a historian as Professor Her«
mann Von Hoist, after devoting the greater part of his life to
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694 The Child-Study Congress. [Feb.,
the study of United States history, thought John Brown wor-
thy of a separate and laudatory monograph as an important
factor in the great problem of his day !
The speaker considered patriotism as a developer of altru-
ism. Her argument was strong and lucid. Patriotism is based
on the consciousness of membership in a community with com-
mon institutions and ends. Such membership begets desire (or
the prosperity of other members. "This is the first step in al-
truism, the partial abolition of selfishness. The taking of the
next step " — that which leads to action — " is not in any way
helped," as she wisely remarked, " by a deification of our coun-
try's heroes, nor by the exaggeration of the worthiness or un-
worthiness of any particular political party."
Rev. Michael Holland, of Tupper Lake, set forth the advan-
tages of country life for children. Unquestionably, the country
boy has a physical advantage over the city boy. Father Hol-
land contended for his mental and spiritual superiority as well.
Among the latter he reckoned less knowledge of evil, less
temptation to drink ai>d gamble, more self-control, compassion,
generosity, and frankness.
We frankly disagree with much of this. The actual expe-
rience of workers engaged in the emigration of waifs from the
old country proves the moral danger of isolated farm-life to
be greater than that of town or even city life, while jio form
of drunkenness is so difficult to cure as the stolid besottedness
of the villager. Rev. Thomas F. Hickey, Chaplain of the State
Reformatory at Rochester, gave some statistics on this point.
While his Reformatory, of course, received more inmates from
city than country, he considered that the country furnished a
fair quota. The country child had less opportunity for spin-
tual instruction, more stolidity in wrong-doing, fewer" interests
to arouse in opposition to evil. He was increasingly inclined
to lay stress upon heredity and very early moral training as
leading factors in the problem of morals upon which he was
constantly working.
The paper of Miss Teresa Kennedy on The Child and the
Trained Teacher aroused the greatest interest among the
many reporters present. Although the work of a comparatively
young girl, it was requested for publication by the representa-
tive of one of the leading religious weeklies of the non-Catholic
world. Miss Kennedy defined the trained teacher as one who
understood, (i) the child, (2) her subject, (3) the relation of the
child to the subject, so as not to soar above his comprehension
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or sink below his capacity. True. Yet only a concise re-pre-
sentation of the " Plan of Education " of the Archbishop of
Cambray : " Study well the constitution and genius of your
child ; follow nature and proceed easily and patiently." Any
conception of education which regards it as relating solely to
the forming of the intellect by instruction in laws of nature
and logic, and to the exercising of the memory in retention of
certain facts and data, is a remnant of that pagan civilization
in which the teacher of childhood was generally the slave. The
Christian Church knew from her inception that the culture of our
three-fold nature at its budding beginning was a task to tax the
full energies of her most gifted and consecrated sons and daugh-
ters. Moreover, when has the church not insisted on " training "
for her teachers? Her very keeping of education so largely in
the hands of her religious orders has insured that her children
should be under the charge of men and women tested as to
stability, self-control, and devotion to high ends, schooled to
discipline through long self-conquest, shielded from intellectual
dissipation and preserved by their very mental conditions of
life from the temptation which has confessedly nearly made
shipwreck of state education — that of preferring the study be-
fore the student! *
Wednesday night, January 30, brought a remarkable combina-
tion to the platform — Very Rev. Monsignor Conaty, D.D., of
the Catholic University as presiding officer and Dr. G. Stanley
Hall, of Clark University, as guest and lecturer. These gentle-
men represent the only universities in the country devoted ex-
clusively to post-graduate work, and the only two which are
especially interested in the study of the child. This common
bond of unity was spontaneous and gracefully recognized in
the speech of each.
Monsignor Conaty, in introducing Dr. Hall as **our master
in the science of child-study," spoke of that branch of investiga-
tion as •* an imperative and potent factor in that upbuilding and
development of the natural and the supernatural which together
make up the complete human being."
Dr. Hall gave a synopsis of the fundamental axioms of
elementary child-study. He passed in review the various
stages of growth, pointing out the salient physical and mental
features of both ; showed how minutely certain mind flaws or
lapses could be inferred from physical indicMions, and alluded to
this as the sole reason for the importance given in his system
to observation of bodily eccentricities or defects. He showed
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696 The Child-Study Congress. [Feb.,
himself thoroughly at one with the spirit of the Congress in its
exaltation of spiritual culture, declaring that the reign of
Spencer, Huxley, TyndalU and their materialist school in the
realm of education was for ever past. Nature study was, in-
deed, coming more and more to the fore, but the child's love
of nature was meant to lead him up to God.
" The best aid to religious instruction is nature study,
coming to nature as the child does, heart to heart, not intellect
to intellect. . . . Develop the heart, out of which are the
issues of life."
The audience hung, fascinated, on Dr. Hall's lips. His
mastery of and love for his theme made vital with interest his
erudite account of the lapses of facial muscles and the pro-
portionate growth of different ages.
Mothers' Meetings formed the topic of one session, but only
Mrs. B. Ellen Burke kept strictly to the point. Mrs. Burke
displayed more ability as a lecturer than any other lady present,
her voice being full and rich, her carriage easy and dignified,
and her remarks — made almost without notes — logical and inter-
esting. Mrs. Elizabeth Martin contributed a paper entitled
Begin at the Beginnings pleading for a recognition on the part
of mothers* that "the feeling of the being of God comes very
early to the child-mind." Sister M. Camper, of Ottawa, Can.,
also sent a paper intended for mothers, urging the early
formation of such habits in children as would make easy the
development of the religious spirit later and the avoidance of
exaggeration in exhortation, etc., since "exaggerated holy things
are the most pernicious of all exaggerations."
Miss Anna McGinley, of the non-Catholic mission work, de-
livered an inspiring address on the danger of inculcating
religious bigotry in children.
" The whole world of religious thought to-day is absorbed in
the one great problem of Christian unity. It has shaken the
church to its depths, and the hearts of men have been strangely
moved by the stirrings of this spirit within us that is seeking to
bind man with man by the strongest, holiest tie in human life —
a oneness of religious belief. * When will it come about ? How
can it come about ? * ask the incredulous. Only in one way.
By teaching the little child — rather, let us say, by never ««-
teaching it — that it is brother or sister to every human being
in the whole world ; that its faith is one of those God-given
treasures that was not meant to be buried away selfishly in
its own little heart. . . . But how much has the world
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grown awry because out pf the mouths of babes the first utter-
ance of the spirit of religious bigotry has gone from one
childish mind into another childish mind, carrying with it a
venom that will plant the seed of religious prejudice for a
life-time ! "
Miss Matilda Cummings has taught for twenty years in the
public schools. Much of this time has been spent in the Tenth
Ward — Jacob Riis' '* happy hunting-ground" and Miss Cum-
mings' proudest field of labor. She embodied the result of her
investigations in Defective Imagination among the little Polish
and Russian Jew children who form the nucleus of her school,
in one of the most interesting papers of the Congress. The
purely material, she says, so dominates their field of vision as
to exclude anything bordering on the ideal. Imagination is fed
upon the 7iew. Children whose environment is that of Hester,
Ludlow, or Essex Street never see anything new ! She gave
the result of an attempt to get some imaginative sketches from
her pupils.
" I see a milk store and in it is a little dog, and the mas-
ter is telling the grocer that the dog will carry home the
cheese.'*
'* I think that I am going home, and I see a man selling
apples and I think I am buying one.'*
'' I think that I am sitting in a chair, and I say that I smell
baked apples."
The " homes " of these children are only shelters. The
school is their real home and the teacher their foster-mother.
The school is the only place to foster imagination. Is the
public school with its rush and routine likely to prove a suit-
able place?
" In the Catholic school the eye of the child is fed on
beauty. Statues and pictures surround him on every side. Be
his home surroundings what they may, in the school high and
holy thoughts sink deep into his heart. There is no finer field
for the cultivation of this glorious, God-given power of the
imagination than the schools of the Catholic Church. Happy
children ! who breathe the air of her enclosed gardens where,
hand in hand with nature, herself the handmaid of the Lord,
they may rise at will on the wings of chastened fancy to the
very throne of the Infinite, bringing back to earth lights of
eternity to make living pictures for time."
The poise and lack of exaggeration manifested by the
members of the Congress was well illustrated in the paper on
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The Child-Study Congress.
[Feb.
Nature Study 1^ Mrs. Baird, of Poughk^epsie. She derided those
who wish this work in schools to be ^' wholly informal and un-
systematic," thereby demanding of the teacher " sufficient ver-
satility to cover the whole fteld of natural science in ^he to-day,
to-morrow, and the next day," and "a fuikr knowledge of
natural science than is required of any one teacher in the High
School." Almost worse was the " nature-study faddist/* who
" analyzes all the poetry out of childhood." Its great use was
to children like the thirty-five who applied for admission to a
Chicago Summer-School. Thirty had never been in the woods,
nineteen ha4 never seen Michigan, and eight had never picked
a flower.
The closing session of the Congress was given up to papers
on the educational value of music, mathematics, literature, etc.
While all these were of much technical value and interesting
as showing the high calibre of thought and attainment among
the Catholic teachers present, they were of more limited inter-
est, and the sparkling closing discussion of the earnest men
and women who lingered, loath to leave the hall, centred
finally round the ever-burning question of the secular state
school. Many ^ present were enthusiastic teachers in State
schools. Many more had been educated therein. But the
overpowering sentiment of the Congress was that the safety not
merely of church but of state itself depended upon the main-
tenance and steady upbuilding of the religious school. The very
teachers who are the backbone of the public schools in which
they teach, urge that the Catholic child be not sent to them,
since they may only teach it less than they know to be alone
sufficient for its rounded well-being in time, even had time no
luminous background of eternity!
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questions arose which directly or indirectly affect the relation
of the church to modern society. As a religious movement
the Reformation has spent its force, but in its social and
political side it planted principles of government and society
which are not likely to die for a long time. They asserted
themselves in intense but chaotic activity in the eighteenth
century, and in the nineteenth they have been moulding them-
selves into the form of an ordered attack on authority. It is
well to avow at once that Catholic countries did not escape
the influence of these principles. What are called " the ancient
Gallican liberties '' are no more or less than a parody, in the
seventeenth century, of the Elizabethan Church of England,
stopping at the line of schism ; and the Josephism of Austria
in the succeeding century is a German Gallicanism that passed
the line. We cannot deal with these developments of Reforma-
tion principles in the very limited space at our disposal. The
excesses of the French Revolution for a time opened men's
eyes to their danger, so that we had the spectacle of European
societies pervaded by revolutionary principles which policy com-
pelled their governments to fight against, when the armies of
France were sent out to give them effect. The check which
self-interest imposed upon the governments was, from the very
nature of the thing, only temporary. Coalitions might save the
structure of the European commonwealth from the disorganiza-
tion which those principles had produced in France, but as
long as they remained to leaven the thought of the nations,
sooner or later they would rule, or at least greatly influence,
the policy of those nations. This result, which political
♦ New York : Ft. Pustet & Co.
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700 Talk about New Books. [Feb»
philosophy would have foreseen, which Mr. Burke plainly fore-
saw, is to all intents and purposes manifested in the theories
of government now prevailing in European states. We venture
to say that no proposition is put forward by extreme socialism
but is the legitimate result of modern Liberalism. Liberalism
is the development of the theory of the king's headship of the
national church, and this is the inevitable consequence of an ap-
peal to private judgment from the authority established by our
Lord. Though, as we said, it is impossible to discuss those
topics in our space, we consider we have suggested some
grounds for Catholics to examine them. They are not treated
quite as we should desire by Dr. Parsons. At least they are
not sufficiently focused for the general reader, and perhaps
some subjects of very great importance are not sufficiently
worked out, while some that appear to us of less consequence
are treated rather diffusely. But the important thing to know
is that he can be followed with confidence wherever he goes.
We recognize that his scope, or rather the view he took of
it, may have precluded him from handling some topics as fully
as we think he ought to have done ; but we merely express
regret rather than > pronounce criticism. To take a case in
point, when dealing with the " Constitutional Church *' of
France, he gives us details of proceedings and sentiments with-
out their background, the principles of the Revolution. The
sentiments of individuals, so often foolishly grandiloquent, so
often like the rounded periods of a conceited and clever boy
posing as a master of the philosophy of life and of the
science of society, were not by themselves always objectionable
to the instincts of mankind, and were often, in the savor of
patriotism of which they smacked, in accordance with those
instincts; but the effect he missed was in not placing those
sentiments in their proper relation to atrocities of lust, rapine,
and cruelty for which the world has no parallel since the
"mighty hunter" established the first military despotism. In
giving some of the proceedings, no doubt, he lets us have a
glimpse of the tyranny and fatuity which possessed the French
even from the earliest stages of the Revolution. This is
nothing ; for unless that time is presented as a whole, its
doctrines interpreted by its acts, we lose a most valuable contri-
bution to the' study of politico-ecclesiastical history. When we
have Gobel, the Constitutional Bishop of Paris, renouncing all
religion except that of liberty and equality, there is nothing in
the retractation that will shock a man outside the church.
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When Lindet, Constitutional Bishop of L'Eure, declares from
the tribune that he was "the first bishop to marry," every one
outside the church will consider the violation of his vow a
triumph of liberty and reason. But it becomes a different mat-
ter when we see the prisons of Paris and France packed to
overflowing with faithful priests ; when we find there were only
four bishops out of the hundred and thirty-five whose hearts
failed them in that crisis ; when we find peasants and their
families forced into boats with holes drilled into them in order
that they might sink with their living cargo, to the great glory of
the Revolution ; when we find the hands of drowning wretches
that grasped the boats, from which the representatives of the
authorities presided over such acts of public justice, slashed
with swords amid jokes, ribaldry, and laughter, and these pro-
ceedings enacted in every river in France from Paris to
Marseilles ; when we find that no house in town or village
escaped plunder unless it had a protection signed by the re-
presentatives of the new government, and that suicide was the
only means by which a woman could preserve her honor; when
we remember how Paris feasted in blood by day and reeked
in lust by night — we can form some feeble idea of what Liber-
alism in religion may accomplish when it wields the power of
the state.
We should have liked to trace the connection, through the
philosophy of the eighteenth century, between the Declaration
of the Assembly of the French clergy in 1682 and the horrors
of the Revolution. We hope our readers will do that for
themselves, because they will find in it one valuable proof, out
of the innumerable proofs which history supplies, that the ex*
istence of society at the present hour is due to the solicitude
of the Supreme Pontiffs and their power of definition in
questions of morals. It is not to the purpose to acknowledge
that the popes can pronounce dogmatically on questions of
morals, and to assert that they have no authority on questions
of citizenship. Wherever morals enter into political and social
questions — and we decline to define the limits of these as distin-
guished from functions of police and civic administration — the
popes not only have authority to pronounce, but they are bound
to pronounce upon them. Of course when a polity morally
recognizable has taken shape in the government of a country, the
pope has no power in the matter. His approval or disapproval
is only that of any man possessing the same amount of ability
and knowledge ; therefore no conflict of what is called allegi-
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702 Talk about New Books. [Feb.,
ance can ensue, singly because no Catholic would pay the
slightest attention to aoy opinion of the pope concerning his
relations with those in autlu>rity in his state. But it is the duty
of the pope, as the guardian of morals, to point out what the
citizen is to do as voter or r^reseirtative in political and
social questions with a moral aspee^. Clearly, he should say
that no Catholic is at liberty to support godless education,
polygamy under the pseudonym of divorce, a., war of aggression,
a policy of repudiation, a violation of treaty, an immoral. law
of contract, and so on ; but with regard to those exercises of
government which may in general be included under the term
''administration," within which may fall whatever develops
the resources of a country and enlarges individual life, a Catho-
lic i& a» independent of the Supreme Pontiif as any other
citizen.
But on this foundation of morality, not accidental and
temporary, but immutable and eternal, rests the stability of a
state. Therefore we desire our readers to study such instances
of conflict between the pretensions of states since the Reforma-
tion and the authority of the church as the one before us — all
such instances, whether the temporal ruler was a Catholic or
not — for in them we shall discover a way to the solution of
the great difficulty which now involves society.
There is another subject in this volume, not unconnected
with our method of viewing the whole history of the contact
of the church with civil society during the seventeenth and
eighteenth centuries, but apparently independent of that
method; we mean what is called the Dragonnade of the Cev-
ennes. Knowing as we do that no event has taken a more
erroneous shape in Catholic opinion than this, we regret we
have not allowed ourselves space to make one or two sugges-
tions. Perhaps we shall discuss it separately in a future num-
ber ; for the present we shall content ourselves with saying
that for a long time we have been of opinion that the Hugue-
nots were themselves the cause of the repression so dishonestly
called the Dragonnade ; that the power of the state was only
put forth against them when their outrages on Catholics had
become so intolerable that these could not have remained in
their homes ; and that if the state had not interfered to protect
the Catholics of the Cevennes it would have simply abdicated
the functions of government.
Buddhism and its Christian Critics^* by Dr. Paul Carus, is a
* Chicago : The Open Court Publishing Company.
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work in which the author professes to supply Christians with
the meaning of the best Buddhist thought, or, as he phrases, it,
to supply " a contribution to comparative reh'gion," by enabling
'' Christians to acquire an insight into the significance of Bud-
dhist thought at the best." This is the only way we can extri-
cate his purpose from a paragraph in which the nominative
has no verb to agree with, but containing clauses which, we
think, may possibly suggest his purpose. Because Christianity
and Buddhism are in many respects so similar "as to appear
almost identical, in other respects they exhibit such contrasts
as to represent two opposite poles," he concludes that a study
of Buddhism is indispensable " for a proper comprehension of
Christianity." This is delicious. The Bible used to be the
sole authority ; an open Bible was one of the shibboleths of
Protestantism — for this Europe was rent from north to south
by wars during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. Where
the Reformers possessed power, they persecuted the Catholics
about the open Bible and their own brethren about interpreta-
tions of it ; and where they were in a minority, they were in
constant rebellion, as in France. It was not that they were
prevented from reading their Bibles in France, but they re-
quired the government to compel Catholics to read the Bible
and interpret it — we do not know by what " private judgment."
Clearly, if a Catholic exercised his private judgment, as Whately
would put it, to surrender it to the authority of the church
would be clearly within his right ; but then he would not be
permitted to use it in this way by the Reformers. In fact,
while insisting on the right of private judgment, they allowed
the use of it only in the manner they approved of themselves.
This was going far enough, but when Dr. Carus desires us to
take Buddha as the interpreter, and Buddhism in its different
forms as the deposit, we cannot help being puzzled. Were the
first Reformers right? If not, why did they " reform " ? He
leaves his own house, but why should we go out into the
cold ?
Neither does his account of the origin of Buddhism aid us
one iota. It is a development of the Samkhya philosophy ;
but as this assumes the eternal existence and reality of matter
— we prescind from other hypotheses not exactly related to
this one — we are at a loss to see how the system can help us
to understand the first chapter of Genesis and the first chapter
of the Gospel of St. John. We refuse to give them up — and
Dr. Carus evidently would not ask us to give up the first chap-
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ter of St. John, since he is of opinion that we have borrowed
the great central thought from the Greeks; or, as he expresses
it, the Christians added to their religion the philosophy of
the Logos, which they took from the Greeks. As we say, we
refuse to give them up, for, whatever differences of interpreta-
tion may arise on both, this meaning is clear : that there was
a " Creator " " who created " (we employ the tautology delib-
erately).
We are not sufficiently interested in the work to examine
it critically ; at the same time we think such an examination
might afford some pleasure if we should start with a problem
in unrelated proportions like this : If Dr. Carus has, say, three
inaccuracies to each page, how many Christians will understand
at one reading what he means when he says that '' truth is
superior to religion," and will accept his prediction, only im-
plied no doubt, that " the final victory '* in the conflict between
Christianity and Buddhism will rest with the latter. The pro-
blem must take into account one unknown quantity, for he
says every man labors under some degree of error — omnis homo
mendax is a more ancient and a stronger form of expression —
and another in that he concedes the sacrifice "of Golgotha"
teaches a lesson which cannot be found in a philosophy and
religion whose end is Nirvana, whether you interpret it as re-
pose or annihilation.
We think he mistakes the theory " of the great martyr and
champion of monism " — in this way he describes Giordano Bru-
no — for Bruno's system seems to contain "a sort of double
pantheism," which is a very different thing from any theory
which refuses to recognize mind as at all distinct from motion.
We should be sorry indeed that any one should suppose
from the foregoing observations we had no appreciation for
those elements in Buddhism that are good, and no admiration
for the character drawn in the life and legend of Gotama. In
dealing with this we put aside Dr. Carus as not adding any-
thing to our conception of it. It has been truly said, in words
better than any we can write, that no one can rise from the
reading of that story without reverence for the moral greatness
of the man who is its hero. Putting aside such ineptitudes as
Dr. Carus introduces into the standard by which he estimsttes the
relative value of Christianity and Buddhism, in his second article
of preference for the former, that it adopted Teutonic enter-
prise and energy to conquer the spirit of the West, we can-
not be insensible to the fact that four hundred and fifty mil-
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licM^^f our fellow-men believe that they have in the religion
of Gotama a support in life and a security in death. Nothing
has been able t^o^ cast a shadow on his memory ; the sweetness
and gentleness of his character shine through the mists of pre-
judice and affect the fair-minded to-day as they affected Marco
Polo when the. spirit of the middle ages was strongest in. the
hearts and minds of men. " Had he been a Christian," wrote
Polo — and we commend his words to Dr. Carus — " he would
have been a great saint of our Lord Jesus Christ, so holy and
pure was the life he led." If philosophers would only conde-
scend to read a little of Catholic literature, they would find that
in many branches Catholics of centuries ago possessed, as ordi-
nary knowledge the information they think is the special dis-
tinction of our time ; and Catholics practised as a matter of
course the liberality of thought and judgment which the same
philosophers formulate in high-sounding dicta, but which have
not a particle of influence on their real views of systems and
of men.
Angels of the Battle-field* by George Barton. — The object of
this vohime, the author says, is to present in as compact and
comprehensive form as possible the history of the Catholic sis-
terhoods in the late Civil War. Mr. Barton found a good deal
of difficulty in collecting materials, as one would readily anti-
cipate. The humility of the sisters would naturally offer a bar,
but he availed himself of public and other records and received in-
formation by means of an extensive correspondence with' govern-
ment officials. He was, however, able to gather from personal
interviews with sisters many narratives which give to his pages
the light and interest which belong to incidents from life. He
possesses the vivid sympathy with action and suffering without
which a history of this kind would be no better than dry bones.
The devotion of these angels of the battle-field, as the title of
the work so correctly calls them, is one of the most beautiful
studies in human nature, raised above itself by grace, that one
could meet with. They were exposed to danger — many lost
their lives — to privation of every kind, while multiplying them-
selves in attendance on the wounded and dying sent in in un-
dreamt-of numbers at times; but never did they allow their
spirits to sink below the level of a cheerful, sympathetic activ-
ity, while frequently there was tenderness, coupled with forti-
tude which prevented it from becoming hysterical, as tenderness
so often does when circumstances are peculiarly pathetic. They
* Philadelphia : The Catholic Art Publishing Company.
VOL. LXVI. 45
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were able to repress their emotions in most cases, but sot
always ; as, for instance, when three " blue-eyed, fair-haired lads
were brought in." They were no more than children, ill of
typhoid pneumonia, and 'May for days uncomplaining and in-
nocent." They died despite the care bestowed upon them.
Boys of this kind were mostly drummers and buglers, mere
children of twelve years of age or so, and that fortitude should
have reached an inconceivable height when pity for them
would not display itself in tears.
The actual number of sisters who laid down their lives dur-
ing the war will probably never be known, but there can be
no question that hundreds did so. If the hospitals and system
of nursing established for the emergency in the ,City of Louis-
ville be taken as typical of the work performed by the sisters
both North and South — and they can be substantially so taken
when the circumstances were favorable — we have a fair instance
of efficiency. Three large manufacturing establishments were
used by the government as hospitals. They were divided into
sections, each under the charge of a Sister of Charity, and so
conducted that no sufferer was without a nurse.
There had been one battle and several skirmishes in Ken-
tucky about that time. Within the hospitals hundreds of men
belonging to both sides were suffering together, some mortally
wounded, some so shattered in limb that amputation was neces-
sary, some in the various forms of disease contracted in the
cold, wet, and exposure of life on the march, in the camp, and
in the field. The author is rightly touched by the heroism
that surrounded those cots where enemies lay side by side in
an agony which for many would o.nly obtain surcease in the
grave. He mentions what we can readily credit, that as the
sisters passed from cot to cot a soldier shot through the body
or with a broken arm would raise his pale face with a smile
of welcome.
Some incidental descriptions of battles are animated, and
we are sure our readers will find themselves moved for the
better by this narrative of heroic charity on the part of the
nuns, and soldierly heroism on that of the men to whom they
ministered. There are seventeen excellent illustrations which
help the interest of the story.
St. IveSf* by Robert Louis Stevenson, is a tale of the adven-
tures of a French prisoner in England during the last years of
the First Empire. M. de St. Ives is a prisoner of war in the
♦ New York : Charles Scribner's Sons.
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1898.] Talk about New Books. 707
Castle of Edinburgh, and though belonging to one of the highest
families in France, is only a private soldier. Incidentally we
learn that he had risen to the rank of an officer, but lost his
commission by permitting the escape of a prisoner. The
adventures, beginning with his escape from the castle, are sensa-
tional, and the perplexities in which a certain recklessness
involves him keep the interest rather on the stretch. During
his time as a prisoner he makes the acquaintance of a young
Scotch girl of good social position, whose compassion caused
her to buy from him little ornaments carved with a penknife.
He and the other prisoners obtained by the exercise of their
skill in this way the means to mend their fare and procure
some little luxuries. It would hardly be right to enter more
into particulars than to say M. de St. Ives is made the devisee
of great estates in England purchased by his great-uncle, the
count — spoken of as the first of the emigres — that is to say,
he was the earliest of them ; for having realized his wealth, he
purchased those estates years before the Revolution and went
to live in England. He was sagacious enough to have smelled
the Revolution from afar. The cousin, the Viscount de St.
Ives, is a character drawn with much force ; he is a villain of
the loud kind, but made very subtle, swaggering, boastful in
manner and melodramatic in appearance, and endowed with
great astuteness. So far as we can follow the author's idea,
we think that the insolence and fierceness of his disposition
defeated plans laid and set in train with great skill and un-
scrupulousness. However, he is ultimately ruined, and the
cousin is fortunate in all respects, ending as a married man
and a great landed proprietor in England. Mr. Stevenson did
not live to complete the work, but this delicate task has
been accomplished successfully by Mr. Quiller-Couch from the
author's outline communicated to his step*daughter and amanu-
ensis, Mrs. Strong. If there be any fault to find with the
design, it is that the difficulties in which M. de St. Ives in-
volves himself are too many, but his courage and good tem-
per sustain the reader, as they must have sustained St. Ives
himself.
The Princess of the Moon, by Mrs. Cora Semmes Ives,* is a
beautiful story for children and commands itself on its own
merits, although its proceeds are devoted to charity. Fidelity
to one's word, to the requirements of duty and mercy to ene-
mies, are principles impressively taught by the charming au-
thoress.
♦ New York : E. P. Dutton.
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7o8 Talk about New Books. [Feb.,
The Messenger of St, foseph^ or the annual issue of St.
Joseph's House for Homeless, Industrious Boys in Philadelphia,
ought to be a timely reminder to some of its wealthy readers
of the small sum which is alone necessary to bring one more
friendless boy within reach of its aid. The Messenger is not
so much of a report as we could wish to see, although most of
its papers have some bearing upon the good and solid work of
this institution, which, much as it saves the State, has yet no
State aid. Its managers say they are always anxious to find
suitable situations for tested boys.
I.— AN ENGLISH BENEDICTINE MARTYR.*
The patient* and exhaustive care for historical accuracy and
detail which marks every page of this work shows that Dom
Camon is a worthy successor of the late Father Morris. It is
delightful to see the loving pains which have been taken upon
every point, the recourse which has been had, not only to
books and manuscripts, but also, when these failed, to 4iving au-
thorities in order that nothing may be left obscure. Witness,
for example, the pains taken to unravel the tangle made by
previous biographers and writers as to the John Roberts who
is the subject of this biography and the Cambridge John
Roberts. Dom Camon, moreover, is evidently intimately
acquainted with all collateral matters, and so writes out of a
full mind. He thus illuminates the surroundings, and does not,
like so many writers of saints' lives, absolutely detach the sub-
ject of his work from all relation to the world in which he
lived. He writes, too, as one accustomed to weigh evidence,
as having the whole case before him not as a partisan or ad-
vocate. Thus, he allows that it is very difficult to know what
proportion of the clergy in Queen Elizabeth's time refused to
take the sacrilegious oath of supremacy. He gives interesting
details on this point, especially with reference to Oxford, quot-
ing the well-known testimony of Anthony Wood. A new point
which Father Camon brings out (new to us, at all events) is,
that the Inns of Court were looked upon as " hot-beds of
Popery." Nowhere, Dom Camon says, might there be found
so many Catholic priests as in the Courts of the Temple or
Lincoln's Inn under the guise of the lawyer's gown.
On almost every page most interesting bits of information
are given. Thus, we learn that in St. John's College, Oxford,
♦ A Benedictine Martyr in England : being the Life and Times of the Venerable Servant
^ God Dom John Roberts, O.S.B, By Dom Bede Camon, O.S.B., B.A. London: Bliss,
inds & Co.
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1898.] Talk about New Books. 709
to which the Venerable John Roberts went in 1596, it was the
custom to study logic and the other parts of philosophy, and
also rhetoric.; "These they learn together, .i>., at once to
think correctly and express their thoughts with elegance and
precision." Whether such a pten might not be useful nowa-
days to enable students of theology and philosophy to present
.the results of their study in a more acceptable form, seems a
matter deserving of consideration. On p. 53 we learn that at
.Douai, the Old Testament was read through and expounded
twjelve times, and the New Testament sixteen times, in three
years; while at Valladolid the whole Bible was read as well as
expounded in two years. The reading was during the dinner,
the "first table"; the exposition during the "second" table.
In this case, too, whatevermay.be thought of the time chosen
for the purpose, it is clear that no pains were then spared to
secure an intimate acquaintance with the Sacred Scriptures.
We will give but one more specimen, and leave to the
reader the pleasant task of exploring for himself. This is a
.quotation from Cardinal Allen, who says: "We must needs con-
-fess that all these things have come upon our country through
.our sins. We ought, therefore, to do. penance and confess our
sins, not in a perfunctory manner, as we used when for cus-
.tom's sake we confessed once a year." It would seem, then,
that in ancient Catholic times it was the* practice of'presumably
pious persons to go to confession but once a year. Cardinal
-Allen proceeds to urge upon tlie students at Rheims to whom
he is writing that they should perform the Spiritual Exercises
under the Fathers of the Society of Jesus in order to the per-
fect examination of their consciences — a means of grace, Dom
Cam.on says, so dear and so familiar to them above all other
religious.. Is it, then, to the Jesuits that the remarkable change
, in this matter of frequent confession is to be attributed ?
A pleasing feature of the work is the respect shown for the
Jesuits and other workers in the Lord's vineyard, without los-
ing sight of what may be considered the main purpose of the
work — the bringing into light and due prominence of the work
of the author's own order. Owing to the fact that hitherto
English ecclesiastical history has been mainly written by
Jesuits or secular priests, the Benedictine share of the work
has been somewhat neglected ; but if this most illustrious or-
der finds historians so fully acquainted with the facts and so
well able to place them before the reader as is the author of
the present work, no longer will their work remain unknown.
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7IO Talk about New Books. [Feb.,
2.— LIFE OF THE BLESSED VIRGIN.*
This Life of the Blessed Virgin is meant rather for the de-
vout and pious reader than for the theologian and controver-
sialist. It is characterized by sobriety and solidity, and is free
from empty sentimentality. There is nothing of the exaggerat-
ed or unreal in its tone. It is full also of instruction in prac-
tical matters, and thus serves a twofold purpose, placing be-
fore the reader the life of the Mother of God, and in so doing in-
dicating to him the way in which his life should be made
conformable to hers. While no distrust is shown of the tradi-
tions with reference to Our Lady's life, the disregard of which
would be the mark of an uncatholic spirit, these traditions
are not given undue prominence. Sometimes, however, we con-
fess to a desire to learn the authority on which statements are
made ; as, for example, when the reader is told (p. 76) that
Mary was at three years old large for her age. But doubtless,
in a work primarily intended for^ devotion and instruction, its
author has wisely abstained from always giving references.
The illustrations, although not quite so numerous as the
title of the book would lead one to expect, serve well for the
adornment of the work. We have to make one exception,
however — ^the picture of the Coronation of the Blessed Virgin.
The publishers, in our opinion, would have been well advised
if this had Wen withheld.
In brief, the work is well calculated to promote true devo-
tion to the Blessed Virgin, and to guide the serious reader
along the paths of moral and Christian virtue.
3.-^HIST0RY OF THE CATHOLIC CHURCH.f
Mr. Walpole in a prefatory note offers to the public this
history in the hope that it may be useful to those who may
not have leisure or inclination to read standard works which
are (he assures us) necessarily voluminous. He hopes it may
serve the purpose of a skeleton history of the church and may
be useful as a book of reference. We regret to have to say
that, in our judgment, Mr. Walpole*s work is not calculated
to fulfil these excellent purposes. In all there are only two
hundred pages of large type, and of these two hundred pages
thirty-six (a sixth of the whole) are merely a translation of the
doctrinal decrees of the Council of Trent, as found in Denzin-
ger's Enchiridion. To the period of time from the prorogation
« Illustrated Life of the Blessed Virgin, By Rev. B. Rohner, O.S.B. Adapted by Rev.
Richard Brennan, LL.D. New York: Benziger Brothers.
t A Short History of the Catholic Church, By F. Goulbum Walpole. London : Bums
& Oates, Limited ; New York : Benziger Brothers.
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.1898.] Talk about New Books. 711
.of thex^uncil (1563) to the present, the history of the church
in all parts of the world is compressed into sixteen pages. It
is consequently only the barest enumeration of a few isolated
facts. The earlier part of the work is more satisfactory; but
even here more space is given to the well-known passage of
Lord Macaulay about the Jesuits than is consistent with a
history so compendious in !aim. As to the accuracy of the
work, we have not tested it thoroughly; but the following is
certainly a misleading statement: "In 1542 Pope Paul III.
had established the Tribunal of the Inquisition."
We regret to have to speak in disparaging terms of a work
the intentions of whose author are manifestly so good, especial-
ly as the multiplication of Catholic books is a thing ardently
to be desired. Some regard, however, must be had for quality
as well as for quantity.
4.— MOSAICS,*
This is the second volume of poems and dramas which have
come from that classic retreat up in the mountains of Western
Pennsylvania and from the pen of Mercedes. The first, Wild
Flowers from the Mountain Side^ appeared some twelve years
ago, and such was the excellence of the verse and the high
character of the poetic thought that the reputation of Mercedes
as one of the sweetest interpreters of the religious muse became
well established.
It is difficult for the editor of a religious publication to
preserve any very high idea of what is ordinarily termed
"poetry of piety," because any one who conceives an ardent
thought and can. write a jingle of words to it must rush into
print, with the result that the experienced manuscript-reader
has little patience with such effusions, and it is only when a
striking name is subscribed or a more than ordinarily brilliant
thought, like a meteor, flashes beneath the verse that his atten-
tion is arrested.
The name of Mercedes will give to verse a standing in most
editorial sanctums. Her poetry is born of convent life, with its
peace, serenity, and refinement. It breathes that atmosphere
of devotion and study and consecration. It comes to us out
in the madding crowd as a wafting of perfumed air from the
conservatory to the hungry souls in the darkness without.
In this present volume. Mosaics^ there are some very choice
bits of poetic sentiment, and they show a maturity of thought
* Mosaics, Verses, by Mercedes. Convent Printing Press, St. Xavier's Academj^
Beatty, Pa,
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7il2 Talk about New Books. [Feb.
and have a polish of expression which belong to the ripe mind.
At random we cull one of these rarer sprigs— the cactus-plant
which stood in the old south window :
** A knotted and tangled thing,
A heavy vine too awkward to twine :
No tendrils to creep or cling,
No leaflets of tender verdure
E'er brightened its roughness there;
But it stood, like a wrong, so bold and so strong,
A blot on that gay parterre."
As a sort of appendix to the volume of poems are printed
some dramas written for the misses at the academy. It is good
to see these published, for there is often a great demand for
this kind of literature. It would be not a little favor if Mer-
cedes would gather all her dramas together and publish them.
Her name would create for them a ready market.
Mosaics^ printed at the Convent Press, is beautifully done.
5.— CANONICAL PROCEDURE.*
It is interesting to know that this book has gone to a
second edition. When it first appeared it was clearing new
ground in an almost unsurveyed land. Caces have been tried,
to be sure, but a paternal government very often dispensed with
forms and a stated canonical procedure, and little regard was
paid to the set ways of the court-room and the exactions of
the canonical judge.
As it was impossible to apply the old canon law without
some notable modifications to the state of aifairs existing in the
church in this country, Rome set herself to bring about the
needed adaptations. The principles being affirmed, the wisdom
of the canonist was- necessary to make the application to eccle-
siastical matters in this country.
That Bishop Messmer has done this work with a prudence
and a sagacity which have characterized his teaching as a pro-
fessor, and later his administration as a bishop, the demand
for a second edition is abundant evidence.
It is a book of this kind, written in a legal temper and be-
coming an acknowledged hand-book of procedure, that does so
much to defend the rights of the cleric, on the one hand, while
it conserves the prerogatives of the episcopal office on the
other.
♦ Canonical Procedure in Disciplinary and Criminal Cases of Clerics. A Systematic
Commentary on the Instructio S. C. Epp. et Reg. 1880. By the Rev. Francis Droste.
£4ited by the Rt. Rev. Sebastian G. Messmer, D.D. Second Edition. New York: Benziger
Brothers.
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governing has proven a failure because Italy has counted with-
out its host. An Italian monarchy which tries to put aside the
Pope finds that he will not down. Calmly and forcefully the
Holy Father says the only way to national peace is to retrace
your steps and give the Head of the Church a place which his
authority and influence demand.
There is an important article in the North American Review
for January which seems to have escaped the notice of the
secular reviewists. To our thinking nothing can be more
significant of the right-about-face on the question of the necessity
of infusing the religious element into the educational life of the
day than the publication in the ultra-American review of Hon.
Amasa Thornton's statement concerning the saving of the
Twentieth Century City by teaching religion in the schools.
The whole article has the ring of true metal about it.
♦
The settlement of the Manitoba school difficulty, while it
secures the Catholic separate school as the ideal one, bids the
Catholic people to take what they can get, and continue to
demand more until they have what is theirs.
♦
The masterly article on the " History of an Irish Cathedral"
printed in this number is from the pen of Thomas Arnold,
only surviving son of Thomas Arnold of Rugby, a brother of
Matthew Arnold and father of Mrs. Humphrey Ward.
♦
The annual meeting of the Catholic Missionary Union just
held showed most encouraging results from the last year's work.
The reports of the missionaries maintained and directed by the
Union indicated progress and vitality. Non-Catholic missions
have been uninterruptedly conducted in the States where these
missionaries are stationed. Still, the directors feel that the real
work of these missions is but begun, and that tremendous
opportunities loom before them, which, if they had the funds,
they might utilize to the home-bringing of many souls.
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714 Living Catholic Men of Science. [Feb^
LIVING CATHOLIC MEN OF SCIENCE.
Rev. George M. Searle was born in London, England, on
June 27, 1839, his father being an American citizen and the
child's foreign birth being due to the mere accident of a
European visit. George Searle was actually born an American.
A very few months later the family returned to this country,
and the boy during his youth attended the Brookline High
School, and later entering Harvard, was graduated from that in-
stitution in the class of 1857. Studies and disposition of mind
alike contributed to fit him for a scientific career in the depart-
ment of mathematics and astronomy ; and shortly after gradua-
tion he took position as assistant at the Dudley Observatory,
Albany, and devoted himself entirely to astronomical work.
The first early fruit of his efforts was the discovery of the
asteroid Pandora, which took place on September 11, 1858, al-
most within a year of his graduation from the university.
Beginning with that period, his prominence in scientific circles
has been maintained by various successful investigations and
some noteworthy discoveries. Both at home and abroad the
attention of men of science has more than once been directed
toward the striking results that rewarded his labors. Having
entered the service of the United States Coast Survey in the
beginning of 1859, ^^ was appointed three years later to the
post of assistant professor in the United States Naval Academy,
and served in that capacity throughout the remaining years of
the war.
About this time the religious question becoming paramount
in his life, he investigated the claims of the Catholic Church
with the result of making his submission to her authority. He
spent some time in the city of Rome. He returned to Har-
vard as assistant in the observatory in June, 1866, and remained
there for two years, at the end of which time he entered the
Paulist Community and began his novitiate in New York. In
March, 1871, he was ordained priest, and since that time he
has been chiefly engaged in the pursuit of scientific studies,
while at the same time holding a professor's chair in moral
theology and devoting some time to the apostolic labors of the
ministry.
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1898.] Living Catholic Men of Science. 715
On the opening of the Catholic University at Washington,
in 1889, he became professor of astronomy and mathematics in
that institution, and remained there until June, 1897. While
there he prepared a manual of apologetics called Plain Facts
Rev. George M. Searle, C.S.P.
for Fair Minds, which has since become the most popular book
of its kind in- the English language.
Father Searle has contributed largely to current journals
and reviews, has again and again figured in the pages of the
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7i6 Living Catholic Men of Science. [Feb.,
astronomical journals, and* has had no little share in the ad-
vance of the photographic art, in which department he is a
practical operator of considerable skilK He is the author of
Elements of Geometry, a book which deserved to receive an ex-
tensive notice from a magazine of such weight as the Revue de
Bruxelles,
Within the last month Father Searle has been invited to Rome
to take charge of the Vatican Observatory.
Rev. John J. Griffin, Ph.D., the Professor and Director
of the Chemical Laboratory of the Catholic University at
Washington, can be looked upon with envy by his felloW-chem-
ists, for he can investigate, experiment, and illustrate in one of
the completest laboratories in the country. He has also at his
command an excellent working library, and, thanks to some
good friends, he receives all the leading chemical periodicals of
the world. This fortunate scholar was born near Corning, N.
Y., June 24, 1859. His family removed to the New England
States while the boy was young enough to justify his claim on
Massachusetts as his home. His early education was obtained
in the public schools of Lawrence. He did good work there,
being graduated from the High School with honors in 1878.
That same year he entered the college at Ottawa, Canada.
Here he received the degree of Bachelor of Arts in 1881 ; two
years later the degree of Master of Arts was conferred on him.
Then he went through his theology course in the Ottawa Dio-
cesan Seminary, and was ordained priest in 1885. He spent
his first year after ordination as instructor in elementary phy-
sics in Ottawa College. Then he went to work in the ministry
as assistant priest in St. Mary's Church, at Cambridgeport,
Mass., at the same time conducting classes in science at St.
Thomas Aquinas* Colleges.
In September, 1887, he returned to Ottawa College as in-
structor in physics and chemistry, which position he held with
distinguished success for three years. But, as he was desirous
of devoting himself especially to natural science, he severed
himself from the college in 1890 and entered Johns Hopkins
University as a graduate student in chemistry, with physics
and mathematics as subordinate subjects. While pursuing his
studies at Johns Hopkins he conducted classes in chemistry at
St. Joseph's Seminary and at Notre Dame of Maryland. This
meant long hours of hard work, but Dr. Griffin is not afraid of
hard work, and he wins his students to love it too. One mu^t
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1898.] Living Catholic Men of Science. 717
get on with such incentives as he knows how to hold out to
the earnest worker.
While the professor was at Ottawa he was considered a
specialist in electricity as well as chemistry. It was he that
Rev. John J. Griffin, Ph.D.
established the first isolated lighting plant in the Dominion ;
he may literally be said to have illuminated his college. He
did the same for the Catholic University at Washington, where
he now labors. He took his degree of Ph.D. from Johns Hop-
kins in June, 1895. He spent one of the long vacations in
Europe visiting a few of the great German centres of learning.
He was made member of the Deutschen Chemische Gesellschaft
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71 8 Living Catholic Men of Science. [Feb.,
of Berlin and of the Electro-Chemische Gesellschaft. He is also
a member of the American Chemical Society. While at Johns
Hopkins he worked on metatoluene sulphonic acid till he set-
tled a question which had been in dispute for twenty-five years
among chemists.
He has established at the Catholic University a chemical
museum showing the processes and products of the chemical
industries of the world.
In the subject of this sketch there exists a sterling excel-
lence of heart with the most provoking lack of outward show.
There is, too, a pronounced and very correct taste in the
matter of literature. Dr. Griffin's private collection of books
not scientific is one that can help to explain where much
of his money goes. In the lecture-room Professor Griffin speaks
slowly and with ease ; in conversation his utterance is a mar-
vel of rapidity. One must be an old friend to feel quite sure
of what he says, and it is a pity to lose what he says, because
it is fine-cut wit and humor generally, when it is not pathetic.
In a word, there is much profit in the exercise of conference
with him, and there is true joy in his friendship.
Pope Leo's great exertions in favor of the higher education
of the clergy in all lines should be proof enough that the
strong light of science is not feared ; in other words, the
Catholic Church at the end of the nineteenth century, as
through all the preceding centuries, is the promoter of learning
in all its branches. The priest-scientist of to-day holds the
same faith as the priest of other days, having simply the ad-
vantage of the accumulated experience of those other days
added to his own researches. While falling into line with the
real scholars, he does not, because he need not, modify an
iota of his priestly -tenets ; he can and does adjust himself to
the modern theories as far as they are tenable. This particu-
lar priest-scientist can best be characterized, as to his method
of progress, as "unhasting, unresting."
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1898.] The Columbian Reading Union. 719
THE COLUMBIAN READING UNION.
GOVERNOR BLACK, in his message |o the Legislature, has shown com-
nnendable penetration by a justly deserved recognition to the work for higher
education, which embraces a wide range of volunteer forces under the patronage
and direction of the New York State Board of Regents. Reading Clubs, Summer-
Schools, small circulating libraries, and university extension lectures are all
welcomed as factors in promoting general culture and self-improvement, without
detriment to the legitimate claims of academies, colleges, and universities. This
aggregation of educational institutions is known as the University of the State of
New York. It is dominated by a wise policy of extending a helping hand to
every group of professional teachers, regardless of their religious convictions, who
are willing to accept a fair standard of examination and inspection. No sanction
is given to the narrow minds darkened by bigotry who seek to make the wearing
of a religious garb a legal disqualification for teaching.
The governor's tribute of praise is as follows :
" New York has in her University an organization nearly as old as the State
itself. Its work has established its reputation at home and abroad. Those who
plan for the future of the State know that its greatness will depend no less upon
its educational interests than upon its material prosperity. All admit the value
of elementary education, but many fail to understand that higher education pays
equally as well. The common school draws mainly from the State, but for the
higher institutions the field is boundless. Those who spend years in arduous
training seek not the cheapest or the nearest, but the best ; and if New York's
schools are at the head they will be sought by students from other States.
" The recent administration of the University knows the methods of reaching
desired results. Under it new currents are setting toward New York. Its
field is broadening every year. The best educators believe that system is nearest
perfect whose instruction does not end with the period of youth, but continues
through the student's life. The library is a chief agency in this continuance.
^ New York, the pioneer in many fields, was the first in this or any country to
recognize by statute the efficiency of the public library as a part of its educational
plan. We have over five hundred travelling libraries of the best books published.
They are loaned to any community requesting them. Other States have adopted
this part of our system. Knowledge gained from good books means increased
power and better citizenship. The University has seen and developed this idea.
Its progress has been rapid, its influence beneficent and lasting. Local free
public libraries are springing up under its lead. In the last four years the num-
ber of libraries has increased from 201 to 340, and the books from 404,616 to
1,038,618. There is careful discrimination in favor of the best books, for read-
ing produces evil as well as good results. It is a ladder which may be used to
climb to the summit or descend to the pit. Thousands of doubtful books are
yearly disapproved and local authorities are glad to accept the University's intelli-
gent supervision. No State has before dealt with this question on so broad a
plane. Our State library is by far the largest and most efficient maintained by
any State. It is the centre of a great work, the strongest ally of 'the public
schools, and its influence develops constantly. New York has been the teacher
in these vital, new ideas and has received, the world over, most generous redog-
nition. Its place in this important field is that of acknowledged leadership."
* ♦ » .
Late in November a great meeting was held in the Royal University Build-
ing, Dublin, to honor the memory of Edmund Burke, and to claim for him a place
among the founders of the new order of things. The Marquis of Dufferin pre-
sided, and the Most Rev. Dr. Healy, Bish6p of Clonfert, brought to light some
facts not properly understood by Mr. Lecky in his writings concerning the eigh-
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720 The Columbian Reading Union, [Feb., 1898.]
teenth century. Rev. William Barry, D.D., stated that it had been the fashion to
praise or condemn Edmund Burke as a mere conservative philosopher. But the
idea for which he lived was not to mark time and leave the world as he found it.
No one ever had a more abiding zeal for reform than he had.
He was, before all things, compassionate and a lover of his kind, feeling with
a Celtic heart, which was easily moved, as he saw with Celtic eyes the world's
vices, and must needs pity them and seek a remedy in cautious, charitable wisdom.
It was a new spirit which he brought into politics. He was a reformer by due
course of law. He could do nothing else when his eyes opened on that sad spec-
tacle of Irish miseries, Irish patience, and Irish loss, which even at this distance
we could hardly bear to read of, nor could we read of them without rising grief
and indignation. Change — was there any one who would long for it more pas-
sionately than the precocious lad, the student of life and books, who in his person
knew and felt as the Irish peasants felt, with an old Norman name, with Galway
blood running in his veins, to leave the people without instruction in Spenser's
fairyland, by the enchanted stream of the Blackwater, hearing, if he did not un-
derstand, the old Celtic tongue, fiery, sweet, and mournful, in Desmond, where
the drums and trumpetings of three conquests had made a wilderness and left
stinging memories } Surely he was face to face with the Irish question. It lived
all around him; it addressed him with lugubrious language.
Burke's own words on the penal laws were : " The worst species of tyranny
that the insolence and perverseness of mankind ever dared exercise ; it was a
machine of wise and elaborate contrivance, and as well fitted for the oppression,
impoverishment, and degradation of the people, and the debasement in them of
human nature itself, as ever proceeded from the perverted ingenuity of man." It
is to the everlasting honor of these Irishmen, Protestants, who brought this sys-
tem to the ground. Swift was the great captain of the band ; Henry Grattan,
whose years of martyrdom bore witness to his sincerity when he exclaimed that the
Irish Protestant never could be free while the Irish Catholic was a slave. To
that immortal company Edmund Burke must be added. Look upon this starry
son of genius and remember his career in London, writing passages in the An-
nual Register, one of that company of whom Boswell had written, none greater
than the student from Trinity College, Dublin, and from old Abraham Shackle-
ton's Academy, of Ballytore. He loved to talk of art with Sir Joshua Reynolds,
of the stage with Garrick, of politics with Gibbon, and of the experience of life
with Johnson.
There was a mingling of religious awe in Burke's philosophy. Johnson
moralized, Burke speculated, and Johnson's was the fist of authority that struck
one down. Burke's was the open hand of rhetoric which they were to grasp
with equal apprehension. Burke died not so much of old age as of the Indian
miseries, the great Revolution, the troubles that were coming thick and fast on
Ireland, and of his son's death. He sank down .in the twilight of the gods, which
for him brought no promise of the new day. More remarkable than his powers
of speech or his learning, which eclipsed every one else in Parliament, or his in-
dustry, was Burke's acquaintance with the only true and fruitful methods in poli-
tics that might assign him to that small group which counted among them Mon-
tesquieu, Adam Smith, and Emmanuel Kant. His appeal was always to concrete
human nature, to the spirit of laws, and the social reason, which were above party
and private judgment. He held that in all forms of government the people were
the true legislators, and the consent of the people was absolutely essential to the
validity of legislation. By such principles as these he judged the causes and
guided his views during the thirty years of his political activity. He had no per-
sonal aims. He made no fortune, was not decorated, and died without a title,
and he flung from him his last pension when the minister sought to regard it as
a kind of retaining fee. All his plans tended one way, and were dictated by
equality and utility in one commonwealth, Burke stood between two eras. He
foreboded a mighty change, and left some imperishable literature. In his last
year America was safe. Thanks to Edmund Burke, Europe was in the throes of
dissolution; India was on the way to triumph over the system of ^Hastings.
Burke gave himself inseparably to India, and it was a triumphant thought for
Ireland that two Irishmen, Burke and Sheridan, were the great opponents of the
Indian Cromwell.
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. THE
CATHOLIC
Vol. LXVI. march, i
AMERICA AS SEEN FROM ABROAD.
BY MOST REV. JOHN J. KEANE, ARCHBISHOP OF DAMASCUS.
|N intelligent American comes to Europe not only
to see but to learn. Conscious and proud though
he may be of the excellences peculiar to his coun-
try, he knows that these are not spontaneous
generations but the outgrowth of older condi-
tions, and that, in order to appreciate them rightly, he ought
to make himself acquainted with the conditions from which
they have sprung or which have given occasion to them.
To his surprise, he soon discovers that his desire to learn
is more than matched by the interest with which, in many
parts of Europe, American ideas and institutions are watched
and studied. This is naturally gratifying, and he thinks more
kindly of those who devote so much attention to his country.
It may become somewhat embarrassing ; for he is apt to find
that his questioners have been making a scientific study of social
conditions and tendencies for which he has had no inclination
and of which he has felt no need, and it is therefore no easy
matter for him to seize the precise nature of their distinctions
and the exact point of their inquiries.
At first he is apt to feel at a disadvantage and somewhat
put to the blush. But upon examination and reflection he dis-
covers that in his apparent lack of culture there is much to
be grateful for. In America things shape themselves natur-
ally, as circumstances dictate. Our action is usually not
directed by scientific rules, but by the plain pointing of emer-
gent facts. Our freedom of choice and resolve is very little
Copyright. The Missionary Society of St. Paul the Apostle in the
State of New York. 1897.
VOL. LXVI. — 46
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722 America as seen from Abroad. [Mar.,
hampered by traditional notions or methods or prejudices, and
so, when good sense is not warped by interest, we do what the
nature of things seems to demand. We often make mistakes,
but by mistakes we learn.
INTELLECTUAL UNREST IN EUROPE.
In Europe it is quite different. They have the great ad-
vantages, and the very grave disadvantages, of centuries upon
centuries of experience, and therefore of traditional i^iethods
and 'institutions. What once were helps may, by change of
circumstances, become serious hindrances. To escape from
them or modify them may be enormously difficult, for, says a
noted English writer, " fetters of red tape are often harder to
break than fetters of iron." Nay, to view things through any
but their medium, to judge things from any but their stand-
point, may be an intellectual achievement by no means easy.
Hence the intellectual unrest, nay, the intellectual strife,
which we find everywhere in Europe. It is the struggle be-
tween those who [feel the necessity of adapting thought and
conditions to the new needs of the world, and those who hold
loyally to old standards of thought and old methods of action,
or at least look with misgiving on the new conditions that are
forcing themselves in. Hence the feverish study of social
questions and theories and systems — some acquaintance with
which makes the American quite content with being less scien-
tific, because less anxious and troubled, because more free to
follow the manifest guidance of nature and of Providence rather
than the inventions and conventionalisms of men. Hence the
American's discovery that he and his country are watched with
great sympathy by some, with just as great suspicion by
others. To some, America is the climax of desirable and even
necessary progress ; to others, she is the embodiment of
1 dangerous revolutionism. In both of these views a sensible
American finds some truth and much exaggeration; and to
hold his own course between these opposing extremes, to ex-
plain what the ideas and position and aims of his country
really are, to show clearly in what they differ from the exag-
gerated notions of the one side or of the other, becomes a
matter of no small difficulty.
DIVERGENT VIEWS OF SOCIAL REFORM.
But he is only at the beginning of his difficulties. Despair-
ing of coming into sympathy with the reactionaries or of
bringing them into sympathy with him, he naturally turns his
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1898.] America as seen from AbroaJ^. 723
attention toward those who may be called the progressists.
But, to his embarrassment, he discovers that they are divided
into several schools, holding to different theories of social
reform and insisting on different lines of action. Europeans^
especially of the Continent, once they become interested in
social subjects, are apt to devote to them a very remarkable
amount of intellectual activity and even enthusiasm. By nature,
and especially if they have had some university training, they
are prone to aim at being original thinkers, at finding an
original view or an original solution. By nature also they are
far more prone than we to insist upon the details, especially
their original details, of a system, rather than on its broad out-
lines. Then in eager, ambitious young minds there is apt to
be somewhat of the spirit which made Caesar say that he would
rather be the first man in an Italian village than the second in
Rome. The natural consequence of all this is that schools of
thought, differing more or less from one another in theories
and systems, are numerous and keep multiplying.
Had these schools a tendency to mutual understanding and
co-operation, the result might be a very useful and creditable
study of the great problem of social reform from many points
of view. But, too frequently, the intensity of the European
character, together with some tendency to self-assertion and
obstinacy of conviction, seems to render this mutual under-
standing impossible. The result is, too often, an intensity of
partisanship and of mutual hostility which it is not easy for us
to understand. Let one illustration suffice. Father Antoine,
S.J., in his Cours (T^conomie Sociale, classifies the various
Catholic schools in two. great groups — the group of "Catholic
Conservatives" and the .".group of "Catholic Reformers or
Socialists." Having carefully explained their general agree-
ments and their special divergences, he concludes this interest-
ing study with a sorrowful allusion to the bitterness and mani-
fest unfairness with which the leaders of the former group
accuse the latter of being, in their principles and their ten-
dencies, if not in their professions, out-and-out socialists.
After detailing the numerous encouragements and endorsements
given to the various congresses of the Catholic Reformers
or Christian Socialists by the Holy See, Father Antbine very
reasonably concludes as follows : " It is astonishing to hear
these accusations of socialism hurled against doctrines and
procedure encouraged and approved by the Chief Pastor of the
church." But experience shows that these rival schools are
proof against all such reasoning. No wonder that our Ameri*
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724 America as seen from Abroad. [Man,
can is puzzled. And no wonder if, after awhile, instead of
meeting, as at first, with the courtesy due to a stranger, he
finds *his American ideas coming into collision with misunder-
' standings, misrepresentations, and invective.
THE AMERICAN SYSTEM PUZZLING.
He finds that our political system is a great puzzle to Eu-
ropeans. When he tells them that we have the freest country,
and yet, at the same time, the strongest government in the
world, he seems to be dealing in contradictions. They have
been used to consider liberty as a tendency to license, and au-
thority as a tendency to despotism ; and they have facts in
abundance under their eyes to confirm their impression. Hence
the American's candid statement of our system seems to them a
Utopian exaggeration. He explains to them the elements of the
system and of its practical working, which render despotism
impossible and anarchism absurd. But he will be fortunate if
he can get them to understand. Their systems are based on
the hypothesis of perpetual contest between irreconcilable ex-
tremes ; ours on the hypothesis of the synthesis of centripetal and
centrifugal tendencies, represented by the two great parties —
tendencies which, though diverse and apparently opposite, really
co-operate for the general welfare and constitute the stability of
the system. Here is the root of their inability to understand
us ; they are traditionally and instinctively analytic, we instinc-
tively synthetic. They see opposites in conflict, and take sides
strongly, even bitterly ; we see diversities that aim at the same
result, and we try to bring them into harmony. So we are a
puzzle to them ; our politics seem bizarre ; and this being the
view ordinarily taken by their newspapers, they are apt to
know really nothing about our politics except their eccentrici-
ties. Thus, a European said of late to* an American :" Why, I
really didn't know that you had any politics in your country.
Oh, yes ! by the way, I did hear something about Mugwumps."
In like manner, he finds that it is very hard for them to
understand the strong tendency toward homogeneity among the
diverse elements that make up the American people. In Eu-
rope they are used to the spectacle of races and nationalities
remaining distinct and even hostile generation after generation
and century after century. Such a spectacle as that presented
by the Austrian Empire seems from custom to be a normal
state of things. * That all these nationalities should come to
the United States and become a homogeneous people in a gen-
eration or two, seems simply impossible. Nay, to some, owing
Digitized by
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1898.] America as seen' from Abroad. 725
to race prejudices, it seems undesirable. The American, of
course, does not agree with them, because he knows that such
cannot be the view of our Father in Heaven concerning the
various branches of his family. But he finds it hard to con-
vince them that this unification can take place without repres-
sion and coercion, such as they have witnessed in various Eu*
ropean countries. He explains to them that it results from the
natural tendency to assimilation among our people ; that it wouldf
on the contrary, require repression and coercion to prevent the
young people of the second, and especially of the third, genera-
tion fropi being thoroughly Americans and nothing else. For-
tunate will he be if they do not put him down for a dreamer.
Fortunate, too, if he be not regarded askance as a conspirator
against European institutions.
THE MAIN DIFFICULTY.
But the pons asinorum is reached when they come to ask
him about American relations between church and state. They^
have been used to either church establishment or church op-
pression, church patronized or church persecuted. A condition
in which the church neither seeks patronage nor fears persecu-
tion seems to them almost inconceivable ; and when our Ameri-
can assures them that such is the condition in his country, they^
think him more than ever a dreamer. In European conditions
separation of church and state means the exclusion of the
church, and even of Religion, from the national life ; it means
the church regarded with suspicion, with hostility, subject to
all sorts of annoying, hampering, and repressive measures.
They cannot imagine a separation of church and state which
means simply that each leaves, and is bound to leave, the other
free and independent in the management of its own affairs;
each, however, respecting the other, and giving the other moral
encouragement and even substantial aid when circumstances re-
quire or permit. This, they recognize, while indeed a physical
separation of church and state, would be in reality their moral
union. Nay, they will acknowledge that a moral union of the
kind would probably be more advantageous to both church and
state than a union which would tend to blend and entangle
their functions, with a probable confusion of wholly distinct
ends and methods, likely to prove pernicious to both sides.
And among past and present European conditions they can
find plenty of sad illustrations to bring the truth home to
them. But, all the same, when our American assures them that
such is really the relation of church and state in his country.
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726 America as seen from Abroad. [Mar.^
and that, considering the circumstances of the times, it is the
only practicable or even desirable one, then they are quite con-
vinced that he is not only a dreamer, but even unsound in the
faith.
From this we can understand with how great wisdom our
Holy Father, Leo XIII., has warned us that we must beware
of proposing as a norm for the nations at large the con*
ditions which we find so satisfactory and so advantageous to
the church in our country. Their situation, traditions, tenden*
cies, dispositions, are totally different, and what fits us ad-
mirably would not fit them at all.
Because of this difference of stand-point and medium, they
find equal difficulty in understanding our relations with our
non-Catholic fellow-citizens. They have for centuries, and with
very good reason, been used to regarding Protestants as assail-
ants of the church, to be met, as it were, at the point of the
bayonet. When the American assures them that, with the ex-
ception of a small minority of fanatics, such is not at all the
attitude of our non-Catholics ; that they are Protestants simply
by force of heredity, and mostly in perfectly good faith ; that
we regard them as fellow-Christians who, through the fault of
their ancestors, have lost part of the Christian teaching and
are in a false position as to the church and the channels of
grace ; and that we, in the spirit of fraternal charity, are striv-
ing to lead them up to the fulness of truth and grace ; again
he will seem to them more than ever a dreamer, and more pro-
bably than ever tainted in his orthodoxy.
Hence their almost insuperable difficulty, for instance, in
' understanding and doing justice to the part taken by Catholics
in the Parliament of Religions at Chicago. To them it seems
i treasonable collusion with the enemies of the Catholic Church
and the Christian Religion. Our American may show them
that it was neither meant to be nor understood to be anything
of the kind ; he argues in vain. He may show them the
, printed record of the Catholic discourses pronounced day after
' day, demonstrating that not in a single instance was there any
minimizing of Catholic belief; but it is of no use. He may
tell them of the missionary work done from morning till night
every day in the Catholic hall ; of the enormous amount of
Catholic literature distributed to eager inquirers ; of the gen-
eral impression produced that only the Catholic Church could
stand up among all the religions of the world, in the calm
majestic dignity and tender pitying charity coming from her
consciousness of alone possessing the fulness of the truth, and
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1898."! America as seen from Abroad. 727
from her consciousness too that it is still and ever her right
and her duty to teach that fulness to the whole world; they
only look on him in wonder, and go away staggered but not
convinced. Occasionally, indeed, he will meet with more open
minds, more capable of understanding and appreciating. Thus,
when the plain facts of the case were stated to the Catholic
Scientific Congress at Brussels, three years ago, the audience,
not to be matched in Europe for intelligence and judicious-
ness, showed their sympathy and their approval in an out-
burst of enthusiasm not soon to be forgotten. Yet, once again,
our Holy Father, knowing full well how totally different are
the religious conditions and mental tendencies of Europe, has
most wisely decreed that a parliament of the kind would there
be unadvisable.
AMERICAN CATHOLICS AND MODERN LIFE.
The difficulties of our American reach their climax when
his courteous critics express their sentiments concerning the
sympathy of Catholics in America with the age, its ideas, and
its civilization. To his simple mind it seems but reasonable
that we should sympathize with the age in which Providence
has placed us, and with any ideas, old or new, which tend to
make life more humane, more just, more enlightened, more
comfortable, more civilized. But he finds that his kind critics
hold as a starting principle, coloring their view of the entire
subject, that modern ideas and the spirit of the age are essen-
tially and hopelessly Voltairean, infidel, anti-Christian. He as-
sures them that Voltaireanism, infidelity, anti-Christianism are
by no means the medium and mould of American thought,
which surely is modern enough ; that, on the contrary, Voltair-
eanism is despised by all sensible Americans ; that we are just
as far from anti-Christianism as we are from the monstrosities
of the French Revolution ; that modern civilization with us has
the spirit and influence of Christ as an integral and essential
constituent. They listen with a smile of incredulous pity, per-
haps with a frown.
The spirit has not quite passed away which filled with such
bitterness the last years of Bishop Dupanloup. Long he^ad
been recognized as the foremost champion of Catholic truth in
Europe. When the Syllabus was issued, and so unjustly assailed
by unbelievers as incompatible with modern life and civiliza-
tion, he published a magnificent commentary to demonstrate
the contrary. He repeatedly received encomiums from the
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728 America as seen from Abroad. [Man,
Holy See. He had shown that, in its best and truest and only
true sense, modern civilization was entirely compatible with the
religion of Jesus Christ, which is the religion of all ages.
But forth leaps a journalistic Goliath who maintains that modern
civilization, in any sense whatsoever, is incompatible with the
Christian faith, and that whoever in any way accepts that civ-
ilization has lost the faith. Such a contention, in its obvious
sense, was so manifestly false that only journalistic quibbles
could make it appear tenable. But the quibbling was so able,
so vehement, so loud-mouthed and persistent, that it captured
multitudes ; the great bishop and all who sympathized with him
were denounced as traitors selling out the Christian faith to
modern infidelity, and, as the summing up of all their guilt
and all the odium they deserved, they were branded with the
epithet of Liberals. Since that day Liberals and Liberalism
are terms far more awful and condemnatory than heretics and
heresy. And so our American, although laudably ready to
thrash any man who would accuse him of deviating in the least
. from the church's teaching, has but a poor chance for a repu-
tation of orthodoxy,- since the survivors of this school have
pinned on to him the label of Liberalism.
LEO*S ENCYCLICALS.
When Leo XIII. came to the Chair of Peter, the intestine
strife among Catholics was so scandalous that, in his Encycli-
cal Immortale Deiy he uttered against it words both of paternal
pleading and of authoritative denunciation, especially against
the newspapers that were ringleaders of dissension. Bpt with
little result. The attacks on Liberalism continued as before,
and all the blame was thrown on it. Then the Holy Father,
in his Encyclical Libertas, of June, 1888, clearly defined the
several kinds of liberalism which the church condemns, as the
abuse and corruption of liberty. These are : first, the repudia-
tion of all divine law and authority ; second, the repudiation
of the supernatural law ; third, the repudiation of ecclesiastical
law and authority, either by the total rejection of the church
or by the denial that it is a perfect society ; fourth, the notion
that^the church ought to so far accommodate herself to times
and circumstances as " to accept what is false or unjust, or to
connive at what is pernicious to religion." Then he takes care
to state plainly that the opinion is commendable {honesta) which
holds that the church should accommodate herself to times
and circumstances, "when by this is meant a reasonable line
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1898.] America as seen from Abroad. 729
of action, consistent with truth and justice; when, that is, in
view of greater good, the church shows herself indulgent, and
grants to the times whatever she can grant consistently with
the holiness of her office."
It was hoped that this would end the assaults of Catholics
on fellow-Catholics ; for surely none who cared or dared to pro-
fess themselves Catholics would be found outside of the very
liberal limits here granted by the Holy Father; and surely none
would be so fanatical as to brand Catholics with an epithet
which, in its theological signification as defined by the Pope
himself, was so evidently inapplicable to them. But narrowness
and fanaticism have shown themselves capable of even that.
So much allowance must be nuide for European tradition-
alism, that we can very well have patrence with the quixotic on-
slaughts on the bugbear of Liberalism by men and journals that
legitimately inherit the mania. We can even make some allow-
ance for the virus of European periodicals making such erroneous
and calumnious statements concerning American conditions and
personages. But reasonable people can have no patience with
the wretched thing when imported into America, or at least into
the United States, where its exaggerations and injustice cannot
plead the palliating circumstances of loyalty to old notions and
lingering impressions. They can feel nothing but unmitigated
condemnation for a periodical which accuses American Catholics
of fostering the Liberalism which has antagonized and is still
antagonizing religion in France ! And they can feel litt;le short
of disgust for petty journalists who bring discredit on religion
and scandalize multitudes by spreading abroad insinuations of
heterodoxy against prelates from whom they ought to be learn-
ing their catechism.
AMERICANISM OF FATHER HECKER.
Intelligent interest in America and " Americanism " has of
late been greatly increased by the publication in French of the
Life of Father Hecker. To ourselves. Father Hecker has for
so long been a typical embodiment of American ideas and
aspirations — has been, as we express it, so thoroughly an
American institution, and we are so prone to take American
institutions as a mere matter of course, that his Life has not
attracted in our country the attention it deserves. How very
differently he is regarded in Europe, now that he has become
known through the translation of his life into French, is illus-
trated by the fact that the work has run through four editions
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730 America as seen from Abroad, [Mar.
in a few months, and that there is now a strong demand for
its translation into Italian. Hecker is a revelation to them, a
revelation of what America is and what Americanism means ;
not by any means a revolutionary revelation, but. a most strik-
ing manifestation of what our Lord meant by ^^nova et Vetera
— new things and old."
The impression has been intensified by the essay of Monsig-
nor D. J. O'Connell on "Americanism." It is a full and clear
definition of that often misunderstood term, and an illustration
of its meaning from the life and writings of Father Hecker.
Republished since in various periodicals, it was first read by
its right reverend author at the International Catholic Scientific
Congress at Fribourg last August; and when he read his con-
clusion, that the idea "involves no conflict with either Catholic
faith or morals; that, in spite of repeated statements to the
contrary, it is no new form of heresy or liberalism or separatism ;
and that, fairly considered, ' Americanism ' is nothing else than
that loyal devotion that Catholics in America bear to the prin-
ciples on which their government is founded, and their con-
scientious conviction that these principles afford Catholics
favorable opportunities for promoting the glory of God, the
growth of the Church, and the salvation of souls in America "
— the hearty applause that followed showed how fully the bulk
of the distinguished audience agreed with him.
As might be expected, Father Hecker and "Americanism"
have had their assailants. The adherents of the old schools
could, of course, not perfnit them to pass unchallenged. And,
if need were, some interesting stories could be told on this
head. But the comparative mildness of the protests shows
that the old bitter spirit of partisanship is passing away ; and
the disfavor with which the attacks have been generally re-
garded proves that the acceptance of providential developments
is becoming universal, that the synthesis between these develop-
ments and devoted Catholicity, as exemplified in Americanism,
is more and more generally recognized to be both possible and
desirable, and that Father Hecker is carrying on an apostolate
to-day more wide-spread and more efficacious than during his
life-time.
So, God speeding the good work, there is reason to hope
that, ere many years, America, as seen from abroad, will not
inspire so much suspicion and dread, and that the American
will find himself more at home among his fellow-Catholics of
Europe.
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The Pompeian Maiden.
One of Aureli's most successful minor works, '
A ROMAN SCULPTOR AND HIS WORK :
CESARE AURELI.
BY MARIE DONEGAN WALSH.
HERE is, perhaps, no art so attractive to the eye
or so fascinating to the mind as that old, old
art of sculpture; which has come down to us
as a priceless heritage from days when the
world was young, and men worshipped the ideal
of the beautiful. To the crude, untrained eye, unrefined by
education and culture and unawakened as yet to the beauty of
form and proportion, painting, with its strong brilliant coloring
and fidelity to nature, appeals more forcibly. But once let us
cultivate our taste by wandering amidst the fascinating realms
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732 A Roman Sculptor and his Work : [Man,
of this art, which is the expression and embodiment of our
best aspirations, and we can no longer rest wholly satisfied
with the sister art, which, though beautiful and entrancing,
lacks the grand creative power of sculpture. The poet dreams
of fairest fancies, the painter copies nature's loveliness; but
the sculptor creates, and that power of creation appeals to our
finite nature as the earthly symbol of the Mightiest Power, who
created man to his image and likeness!
It is a great and terrible responsibility to be given into the
hands of a creature, for the art of sculpture can not only en-
noble but degrade, according to the spirit of its exponent, and
unfortunately this god-like gift from the earliest ages has been
perverted by man to base uses. We cannot be too thankful,
then, when the mantle falls upon worthy shoulders. In cur
modern maelstrom, with its highly cultivated brain-theories, its
science, and its startling discoveries, there is no time for the
ideal. It is apt to be crowded into the background; but
fortunately there are exceptions even in this utilitarian cen-
tury, and men are found with the courage of their convictions
to prefer following the true, the pure, and the noble in art, to
the passing fancies of the time, which bring at the best an
evanescent success and a certain popularity in their day.
These men are not content save with the highest and best
that lies within them, and think their lives not lived in vain
if they have brought their art in some degree nearer the ideal
after which they honestly strive.
A living exponent of this — and I have no doubt there are
many more in the great republic of art in every land — is the
modern sculptor to whose work and aims I purpose to devote
this sketch, in order to show, if in ever so small a degree, that
the apostleship of art has its place in our scheme of the Catho-
lie civilization of the world, as well as the apostleship of the
press and the apostleship of good works; for never more than
in the present time is pure, lofty Catholic art needed to be a
practical helper in more active works of charity.
Cesare Aureli, as his name implies, is a Roman of the
Romans, born and bred in the mighty shadow of St. Peter's,
within the walls of that Eternal City which has been the birth-
place of so many sons of genius, for Rome is not only the
home of religion but the home of art, and amidst its inspired
surroundings, where every stone speaks of the great artistic
past, the future sculptor drew his first childish inspiration.
Art meets us at every turning and corner of Rome, and more
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J898.] Cesare Aureli. 733
especially must it have done so in the Rome of fifty years
ago,^ when Aureli was a child, and, from the sculptured mar-
vels of the Vatican and the Capitol to the humblest street
fountains, which in their artistic beauty are a constant joy to
the eye, found himself surrounded, as it were, by art; breath-
ing it in the very air he breathed and drawing its influence into
a mind already open to such impressions. Under these condi-
tions it is little wonder that the boy grew up to be a sculptor.
With the usual contrariness displayed by the parents of
great men, who never seem to recognize the inherent talent of
their children and their marked leaning towards some certain
calling, Aureli's father destined him for quite another career
than that of a sculptor ; and one, moreover, in which all his
artistic talents were completely wasted. Byt his lady, Art, had
marked the youth for her own, even at an early age, and his
intense distaste for the profession proposed to him caused his
father to withdraw his opposition and grant the dearest wish
of the boy's heart to become a student in a sculptor's studio.
Of course we can understand, in a way, the father's unwilling-
ness that his son should follow an artistic career, for these
early leanings towards art often turn out a bitter disappoint-
ment in later years, spoiling many an otherwise promising
career, and the brilliant future that lay before the lad in
thus following his true vocation could not be foreseen. Cesare
Aureli became a pupil of the Accademia di San Luca (the
great art school of Rome) and studied under the famous sculp-
tor Tenerani. Afterwards he was a student in the ateliers of
Professors Bianchi and MuUer, both of them celebrated sculp-
tors, the latter being the sculptor of the famous statue of
** Prometheus," now in the National Gallery of Berlin. Pro-
vided under their tuition with a splendid art-training, Aureli
set -up a studio of his own and began serious work as a
sculptor, starting from the very outset of his career with the
lofty principles and singleness of purpose which have charac-
terized him both as man and artist. Needless to relate, suc-
cess crowned his efforts ; and, as the young sculptor's statues
began to attract attention, they were admired by an art public
perhaps the most critical in the world, for their exquisite fine-
ness and delicacy of execution, their imaginative power and
their striking realism. As the sculptor's mind grew, his power
increased, perfected by sedulous application to his work and
the earnestness with which he went about it.
" I like to make my statues according to my principles,"
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734 A Roman Sculptor and his Work: [Man,
was a /remark Aureli once let fall to a friend, in discussing
some artistic topic ; and that this is the keynote of his life
St. Thomas Aquinas.
The Seminarians' /ubitee Gift to the Holy Father.
and the maxim which has gbverned his work, will be seen by
the successive statues which have leaped into life under his
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1898.] ^ CeSARE AURELl. 735
chisel : for after nearly forty years of ceaseless toil and patient,
untiring energy, Cesare Aureli can point with pride to one and
St. Bonaventure.
This statue won for the sculptor the decoration 0/ the Order oj St. Gregory,
all of his family of marble children, now scattered in many
lands, knowing that in not one of them has he been false to
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736 A Roman Sculptor and his Work: [Mar.,
bis principles or to the faith which is dearer to him than life;
not one but can " rise up and call him blessed " — a blameless
record indeed, in these days of unbounded license in matters of
art !
But do not imagine that this sculptor of lofty ideals is a
recluse from the world, a dreamer in a land of purest dreams
far from the stress and hurry of every-day life. He is one
of the most practical of men ; keen, clear-sighted, strong in
thought and action, a man of deeds as well as thoughts, whose
vigorous intellect fully realizes that the church's battles must
now be fought in the world more than in the cloister, and that
we Catholics must be in the thick of the fight — not lagging in
the rear, but armed at every point with skill and knowledge
ready to fight our enemies with their own weapons. Indeed,
the fond boast of Cesare Aureli*s later years is that his fellow-
citizens have elected him as Consigliere Communale in the City
Council of Rome, (where his prudent and sagacious counsels
make him a valued member and where he keeps the interests
of the church well to the fore.
This may not seem an extraordinary thing, that a man
should be able to mix in public affairs, be before the eyes of
the world, and yet keep a sincere and practical Catholic; but
any one who knows the Rome of the present day, with its irre-
ligious government and strong anti-Catholic feeling, can realize
to what temptations an artist and a man of genius like Aureli
is exposed, since the enemies of the church strive by every
means in their power to draw such as he to fight under their
banner, knowing what a valuable ally he would be. But the
loyal son of the chlirch has passed unscathed through the ordeal
and still remains strong in his high moral principles.
For them he has paid the price. Aureli is by no means a
rich man, as he might easily have been had he ever sacrificed
the integrity of his principles and given in ever so littje to the
spirit of irreligion. But his entire honesty and single-hearted-
ness brings its own reward, and he is esteemed and loved by
countless friends of every class and every shade of opinion.
Liberal, atheist, and free-thinker as well as those of his own
religion seem to turn instinctively to this broad-minded man,
recognizing in him the true ring of native worth. Another ex-
ample shows Cesare Aureli as a man of works ; and that is
his interest in the Catholic Working-man's Club, which is one
of the finest institutions in Rome for young men of the artisan
class, art-workers, etc., bringing them together and keeping
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1898.] Cesare Aureli. 737
them true to their creed.
Realizing the terrible dan-
gers to faith and morals to
which young men of this
class are exposed, Aureli
lent his valuable aid to the
organization of the club,
called " La Society Artis-
tica-Operaia," in which men
of the highest rank and in-
fluence in Rome take the
greatest interest. Three
gallant workers championed
this most philanthropic
cause: the well-known Car-
dinal Jacobini, who. is ever
zealously to the fore in '
works of charity ; Count
Vespignani (the architect of
St. Peter's), and Cesare
Aureli, the sculptor. They
were, in fact, the co-founders
of the club, which was to „ , ^
' Blessed La Salle.
accomplish such a work of /„ tke church 0/ St, John Baptist at Rheims.
apostolic charity in a quarter
where it was sadly needed ! Aureli is the general secretary, and
is most indefatigable in his efforts for the cause, giving to it all
the time he can spare from his profession and his duties as
" Consigliere '* in the City Counci).
There is still another side to this highly gifted nature —
another field in which Aureli*s brilliant intellect plays its part,
and that is the realm of literature. Besides his many other occu-
pations, the sculptor is a literary worker, a poet and novelist
of no mean merit, with a tender poetic fancy and power of
description which would do him credit if his profession were
that of literature alone. Always a profound student and ;
thinker, his studies have served him in good stead, and though
his lighter literary works teem with graceful fancies and true
feeling, their moral standard is always high, and a deeper
minor note of purpose and restrained power runs through the
lighter vein in which he writes.
Aureli's principal work is a historical novel, Giovanni
Battista Pergolesi^ being the life-history, beautifully woven, into
VOL. LXVI.— 47
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738 A Roman Sculptor and his Work: [Mar.,
a . ramaiice, of the great. Italian musical composer Pergolesi, who
composed the musie of the '' Stabat Mater " and made his name
immortal. The author has Jireated the subject with consummate
charm and ability, as well as infinite pathos. Only an artist
could have written the exquisite closing chapters, where he
describes the sad death of the young musician at the early
age of twenty-six, amid 5. scenes of earth's fairest loveliness,
completing the last stanzas of his grand hymn with his last
breath ! . . ^-
Anothei: work is a jromance called Ad/le^ in which the writer
gives vent to his strong Jeelings against the law of divorce.
He has also written a series of critical essays, a biographical
sketch of Raffaelle Sanzio^ another historical romance, lately
translated into French, called La Stella di San Cosimato (The
Star of Saint Cosimato), and a graceful little legend of Greek
origin, LOrigine della Pittura (The Origin of Painting). From
this short list of the works of his facile pen it can be seen
that the sculptor has some claim to literary merit.
However, all that is best and greatest within him turns in-
stinctively to sculpture, and the mistress he has served with
such complete devotion has rewarded Aureli for his faithful
service with a power beyond that of his fellows.
One cannot realize the full merit and great originality of
this sculptor without seeing him in his native element, among
his works in his Roman studio ; and one of my most pleasant
recollections is that of a recent visit to the quaint old atelier
in the historic Via Flaminia, outside the Porta del Popolo, where
most of Cavaliere Aureli's artistic work has been accomplished.
Though outside the city gate, his studio is not far from the
centre of Rome, being only five minutes' walk from the principal
thoroughfare, the Corso, although remote enough from the stir
of the city to be a quiet retreat where he can mature his ideas
in the retirement necessary for their perfect development.
A hearty welcome from the genial master awaits all visitors
who find their way to Cesare Aureli's studio ; for, like the true
Roman gentleman he is, his unfailing courtesy is not one of
the least of his good qualities. The unpretentious entrance
bears the mystic name " Aureli — Scultore " on its portals.
Cesare Aureli is a man of fifty-four, of medium height, rather
spare in frame and not at all robust in appearance, having the
nervous organization so often possessed by artists ; with grizzled
hair and an earnest, open face whose kindly eyes look out at one
with a frank expression. Like all true artists, he is exceedingly
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i«98.] Cesare Aureli. 739
modest and diffident about his work, and unwilling to descant
at length on his achievements ; but one Ccinnot listen long to
the bright, cheery conversation without feeling that his whole
soul is in his work— that first great essential to success of any
kind. He forms the most delightful cicerone to his own studio ;
Cesare Aureli, Sculptor.
but beforehand we warn any one who expects a fancy studio
with artistic decorations, stained-glass windows, etc., that he will
be highly disappointed at the reality of this one, for it is a veri-
table studioy where the real life-work of the sculptor's art goes
on, and not one of the pleasant show-rooms with costly
furniture, bric-a-brac, Turkish rugs, etc., that delight the eye in
some artists' studios. It is Spartan-like in its severe simplicity,
without the least attempt at decorations; and the walls are
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740 A Roman Sculptor and his Worjc: fMar.,
literally lined with models and casts, antique and modern, bas-
reliefs and sketches and portrait-busts, while all around stand
models in plaster of the sculptor's various works. In the centre
is the work on hand, or a figure in process of modelling in the
rough gray clay, closely veiled as yet from the eyes of the
curious. The most prominent object which meets the eye on
entering the outer studio is the beautiful statue of the Blessed
Virgin, destined for the mother-house of the Sisters of Charity
at Emmitsburg, Md., which has been in hand for some
time and to which the finishing touches are now being put.
It is executed in the finest Carrara marble from the marble
quarries of Serravezza, in the Carrara Mountains, and is of a
most exquisite quality; pure, smooth, snowy white, and so fine
that when it is struck with any object it gives out a metallic
ring like bronze. Another quality of this particular marble is
that it will not discolor with time, as so many marbles do, but
remains pure and white as it is now. The figure represents the
Immaculate Conception. Our Lady's foot is placed on the head
of the serpent, and the earth and stars are beneath her feet.
The expression on her face is spiritual and devotional to a
degree, breathing such a spirit of tender piety and virgin purity
that as we look upon it we feel that the Daughters of St.
Vincent at Emmitsburg have indeed secured a treasure for
their beautiful church.
To our untrained artistic eyes the statue seems perfectly
complete in its exquisite finish, and we wonder when the
sculptor tells us it requires nearly twenty days more to finish,
it being placed on a thick pedestal which must be hewn off it,
that work alone requiring fully five days.
We asked the professor how long it takes to execute a statue
like this, and he replied five or six months ; so it can be im-
agined what an arduous calling is his, for the statue is by no
means a large size, though in exquisite proportions.
Not far from this is the large plaster cast of the statue-
group which is perhaps Cesare Aureli's most famous work,
** Milton and Galileo." It represents the visit of the English
poet Milton, then in the prime of his manhood, to the aged
philosopher and man of science, Galileo, in his exile at^ Arcetri,
nlsar Florence ; and is a splendid group of masterly conception
and workmanship, full of life and vigor and animation. The
aged Galileo is seated with a globe in his hand, demonstrating
to the young poet, who stands beside him, the laws which gov-
ern the motions of the planets and stars. Truly marvellous is
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1898.] Cesare Aureli. 741
the contrast be-
tween the two
faces ; that of
the youth full
of manly vigor
and strength,
giving all the
attention of his
powerful mind
to the philos-
opher, whose
aged counten-
ance, unmoved
and calm in the
serenity of an
old age which
had more than
its share of care
and sorrow, has
something ex-
ceptionally no-
ble in its physi-
ognomy. Alto-
gether, it is ^
group on which
Aureli might be
content to rest
his reputation
as a sculptor
had he execut-
ed no other im-
portant works,
which is far,
however, from
being the case. luca della robbia.
Another
statue in;;fplaster stands near the Galileo group — a single
figure representing a venerable old man, clad in sixteenth
century costume and standing beside an executioner's block ;
his hands clasped over a crucifix on his bosom, his eyes raised
to heaven with a look of dawning rapture on the saintly face,
as if beyond these earthly mists he saw the lights of heaven
shining ! Noting our admiration of it the sculptor smiled, saying
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742 A Roman Sculptor and h/s Work : [Mar.,
gently "Beato Tomaso Mora" (Blessed Thomas More), and
laying his hand on the statue with an involuntary caressing
gesture, for it is one of his own favorites and an early work,
proceeds to tell us how he conceived the idea of executing it.
From a boy Aureli has always taken a special interest in
Blessed Thomas More ; it is a character in its intrepidity and
grand loftiness of purpose that singularly attracted him. As a
boy he acted in the play of '* Sir Thomas More," by Silvio
Pellico, taking the part of one of his companions, and from that
boyish interest in England's martyred chancellor arose the
splendid statue he has now given the world. He told us an
anecdote of how some critic had objected to the chancellor
being represented with a beard, when in all his portraits he is
clean-shaven ; but Aureli, well up in his subject, retorted with
the famous story that Sir Thomas's beard having grown in
prison, the martyr, serene and tranquil to the last, when be
was brought to the block to be beheaded, gently moved it
away with a smile, saying, "This at least has done no treason,
so why should it be beheaded ? " And the sculptor intends to
represent Sir Thomas the moment before his execution. This
statue was sold to an English gentleman, and is now in a
private collection in England.
Another fine cast is the figure of Luca della Robbia,
the great Florentine artist a|id inventor pf the famous Floren-
tine terra-cotta work in" bas-relief. All those >^ho admire the
exquisite bas-reliefs of Della Robbia will be interested in this
portrait-statue ; a nobly-thoughtful figure in Florentine cos-
tume, holding in his hand one of his beautiful medallions of
the Madonna surrounded by garlands of fruit and flowers.
The original of the cast is in the " Esposizione delle Belle Arti "
in Rome.
A statue-group of Blessed La Salle is another of Aureli*s
recent works, which has brought him the highest commenda-
tion for its vigorous treatment and the lofty principle it im-
plies. It is a living embodiment and might stand for a sym-
bolic statue of " Apostolic Charity " — that grand work of souls
to which Blessed La Salle gave up his life, and which is carried
on so nobly by his spiritual children, the Christian Brothers, over
^11 the civilized world. A grand ceremony took place at the bene-
diction and erection of this statue in the Church of St. John the
Baptist at Rheims, on the 28th of July, 1895, in the presence
of Cardinal Lang^nieux, Archbishop of Rheims. A special in-
terest attaches to it for Americans on account of the fact that
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1898.] Cesare Aureli. 743
Cardinal Gib-
bons and Bi-
shop Foley, of
Detroit, were
present on the
occasion, and
by the special
wish of Cardi-
nal Lang^nieux
the new statue
was blessed by
our American
cardinal. It
was offered to
the church in
the name of
the Institute of
Christian Bro-
thers through-
out the world,
by their supe-
rior-general.
Brother Joseph,
as a memorial
of their saintly
founder. Mon-
signor TAbb^
Landrieux, the
vicar-general of
Cardinal Lan-
g^nieux, pro-
nounced a beau-
tiful discourse,
in which he
made a graceful blessed Thomas More.
allusion to the ^'*^ sculpture represents the moment be/ore his execution,
distinguished American visitors and to their country, which also
shared in the act of homage they were paying Blessed La
Salle through the Christian Brothers, who are so well known
and valued members of our Catholic ranks. A replica of this
beautiful statue was erected in May last over the tomb of
Blessed La Salle at Rouen. r
In the inner studio is the grand statue of St. Thomas
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744 ^ Roman Sculptor and mis Work : [Mar.^
Aquinas which adorns the new wing of the Vatican Library,
a gift to our Holy Father Leo XIIL, on the occasion of his
episcopal jubilee, from the seminarians in all parts of the world.
They chose a statue of St. Thomas for their jubilee gift, think-
ing it would be most appropriate for a Pontiff who is the re-
storer and faithful exponent of -l^e philosophy of St. Thomas
Aquinas ; and they gave the commission to Aureli, knowing
that he would enter into the spirif^ip^f their offering. That he
has thoroughly done so will be recognized by all who have
seen the intellectual force and profound erudition he has re-
presented in this wonderful statue. Professor Aureli told us
how the Pope had highly approved of the idea, taking such a
paf;eri)al- interest in the statue that, having decided it should
be -efected ., in the Vatican Library, he called Aureli to the
Vatican to execute it there, and came down thrice himself to
choose a position for it. From this circumstance' arose a rati cr
curious mistake which caused a great sensation in Rome, for it
was bruited abroad that the Pope had been out of the Vatican
to go to Aureli's studio, the fact not being generally known
tha^t^the sculptor was executing the statue at the Vatican.
'^ Not far from it is a subject quite different from the sombre
majesty of the Doctor of the Church. It is a tiny cast in
gesso of one of Aureli's most successful minor works, represent-
ing "The Pompeian Maiden," the heroine of Bulwer-Lytton's
Last Days of Pompeii. She is represented sitting in a quaint
Roman chair, with the nosegay her lover, Glaucus, has just sent
her in a vase beside her ; and in her hand she holds writing,
tablets, while meditating what answer she will give to his let-
ter. The youthful grace of the rounded figure and the fair
young face with its Grecian knot of hair are most charmingly
portrayed, as well as the expression of maiden hesitation and
the shy delight of her first love. This statue was not executed
for any special commission, but a friend coming into the studio
and greatly admiring it, begged him to send it to the Berlin
Exhibition, then taking place. The sculptor demurred, on the
ground that so small a thing would never be noticed among
«o many larger works, but he ultimately consented; the statue
was sent to the exhibition, and within a few days of its arrival
Aureli received a telegram saying it had been sold immediately
at the price he put upon it.
Still another variety of subject is the cast for the monu-
frtent of Cardinal Massaia, the famous Franciscan cardinal
Abyssinian explorer, which is erected over his tomb in the
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1898.] Cesare Aureli. 745
beautiful little church of the Capuchins at Frascati, near Rome.
This statue is a striking example of faithful portraiture ; a
really life-like figure, vigorously executed— the grand old man
** The aged Galileo, with his time-worn face."
resting after his life of toil and action, but with his mind still
fresh and vigorous.
From this we turn to another grand and inspired work : the
model of the statue of Saint Bonaventure, erected as a
monument to the saint in his native city of Bagnorea ; and as
it stands in the chief square of the town it is almost of colossal
size, and has beautiful bas-reliefs on the base of its pedestal,
representing scenes in the saint's life, one of them being the
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746 A Roman Sculptor and his Work. [Mar.,
infant brought to St. Francis of Assisj by his mother^ and St.
Francis, blessing it, exclaimed "O buona ventura!" by wiiich
name the child was hereafter known. A circumstance relating
to this statue of St. Bonaventure, which Cavaliere Aureli with
characteristic modesty did not tell us, is that the Holy Father
conferred upon him the order of ** Commendatore of St. Gre-
gory," in token of his appreciation of its sculptor's skill. There
are many other things of beauty around, but we cannot notice
them all ; but must not leave without looking at the exquisitely
lovely cast of the statue of " Saint Genevifeve," executed for the
venerable Cardinal-Archbishop of Paris, Cardinal Richard, and
presented by him to his titular church of '' Santa Maria in
Via." It represents the saint with her foot on the head of a
dragon, while in her hand she holds a lighted candle.
We also particularly admire in the studio a small cast in
terra cotta for a statue of Joan of Arc ; the pure young face
of the titaiden-warrior perfect in conception, with its rapt, spiri-
tual expression looking upward as if in one of her visions of
the " Voices," while she clasps a battle-standard in her hand.
Professor Aureli laughingly declare;^ he will reproduce this cast
in purest Carrara' when the "Maid of Orleans" is raised to
the honors of the altar!
The most striking thing about Aureli's sculpture is the
splendid naturalness of their pose ; so strikingly realistic, with
none of the mannerisms and stiffness which cling to the work
of even some of our finest sculptors, for under Aureli's skilful
hands the cold marble seems to take the flexibility' of life.
He tells m^ that by long association with them, and their
being so intimately connected with the story of his life, these
ideal fancies of the sculptor's brain are very near their maker's
heart, and it costs him quite a pang when he is obliged to part
with them at last. Two of his statues have gone to South
America — one of the Blessed Virgin and one of St. Joseph;
but the Madonna for Emmitsburg is his first commission for
the United States. However, it is a certainty that when it
is seen by our art-appreciative public at home this will be by
no means the last. Already he has two orders from the
Lazarist Fathers, and we ourselves feel sure that Aureli's
work needs only to be seen to be appreciated ; and we sincerely
trust that when his statues are more widely known in America,
it will be the beginning of many other commissions for the
sculptor, who is undoubtedly a man of the highest ability and
irreproachable integrity.
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As our gaze wanders around upon all the different types bis
versatile genius has created, from the aged Galileo, with his
time-worn face, to the placid beauty of St. Genevifeve; from
the rugged Traveller-Cardinal and the pure Madonna, with her
compassionate smile, to rest upon the calm, strong intellec-
tuality of St. Thomas and the inspired grandeur of St. Bona-
venture, we feel that they all bear the impress of the sculptor's
individuality and infinite variety of treatment.
The pleasant hour in the studio passed all too quickly.
With grateful thanks for our reception, we take leave of the
sculptor on the threshold of his studio, with his courteous
Roman salutation of " A rivederci " ringing in our ears, as he
stands bareheaded there at the feet of his beautiful '* Madonna,"
which is to be a link between him and America. We carry
away with us a not-easily-to-be-forgotten mind-picture of this
Roman sculptor, who is one of a thousand*— a simple, honest,
manly man, with a high ideal he conscientiously follows ; an
artist to the finger-tips, and without any professions or Pharisa-
ism, a sincere and practical Catholic, not ashamed but glorying
in his faith. A man, in short, of whom we wish there were
many in the working ranks of the church to-day.
A PURE SOUL
BY HARRISON CONRARD.
|FT I have yearned that with material eyes
An immaterial soul I might behold.
Holy and pure, with graces manifold.
Bound unto earth, yet longing thence to rise
On wings untethered through th* ethereal skies —
From its own chords of heaven-tempered gold
Unto its glorious Object clear and bold
Pouring the measures of its symphonies;
And yet, methinks, in God's own image made,
So wondrous its divine-reflected light.
That as the glooms before the sunshine fade.
Were sense corrupt to meet so pure a sight,
Perish must I before that soul, arrayed
In the warm splendors of the Infinite !
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748 Padre Filippo's Madonna. [Mar.,
PADRE FILIPPO'S MADONNA.
BY MARGARET KENNA.
I.
ADRE FILIPPO ! " The young mother pushed
the door open, but the music of her voice
floated in before her, deep and tremulous and
I low.
"— — Padre Filippo started. He had been think-
ing of the Madonna. Had she appeared to him in the dusk,
this woman with her great eyes glowing like black stars, and
her blue veil folded pitifully about the bambino in her arms?
" Padre Filippo ! " The voice quivered and the stars fainted
from her eyes. Then he knew it was Maria, the flower-woman.
" Maria, can I help you ? '' he said, advancing and reaching
unconsciously for one of the baby's hands.
" Yes, padre — perhaps."
She sank upon a stool and laid the child across her knees.
Padre Filippo looked at her fearfully. Her face was wan and
her breath came like sighing. Dust and wayside flowers were
pressed into her rude shoes. She had come far and with little
hope. Her husband had been lost at sea the night the baby
was born, a month before. Of the twenty fishing-boats that
had gone forth over the waves only one had come back. Now
the village was starving. Padre Filippo was poor too — the
poorest being in the parish. He had only pity to give. Often,
when he had emptied his pockets for his people, he gave his
supper to the birds ; for the village, although so poor, was still
frequented by the birds, and the broken-hearted, music-loving
women lived in dread lest the song should be starved from
their throats.
More than hunger and thirst and sorrow was told in Maria's
attitude now. . In her heart a great wistfulness was burning,
and in the silence of her tranquil being she could feel her very
soul shedding tears. From her birth she had been as an angel
to the village. Her mother was dead, long years. Her father
had touched her always as he might touch a little requiem
flower. The men and women of the village had early learned
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to take their lesson of life and death from the girl's holy lips.
Even Luigi Roseti, the laughing sailor, had hung upon her
prayers. Always she stood alone, and none guessed the pain
of it to her. Her simplicity seemed imperiousness, but it
veiled a child4ike heart. Padre Filippo himself would never ac-
cuse or admonish. She had a terrible question to ask him now ;
yet she knew that it would be she who must answer it, and
with simple, sad humility she knew that she would be strong
enough to answer it. It was anguish to the shy creature to
be strong against the world !
"Padre, there is a painter in the village. At the market
this morning he bought forget-me-nots from me. He wants
to paint me as the Mother of Christ. Padre, I am afraid of
his dark eyes, but the bambino must die if I refuse."
Padre Filippo's white cheek flamed.
'* I am poor, Maria my child, but I never thought to see you
sell your beauty to a cheap painter — a man who has no rever-
ence in his heart."
"You need not fear that I am deceived in the man, padre.
I know that Raffaelle is not come again. And the village is
an innocent place — only Margherita Brumini and me have been
as far as Naples to the festa. The men may forgive me
for sitting to this painter, but the women — never ! I know it
all, padre ; but there is Luigi in his grave " — through the win-
dow Maria pointed to the sea — " and here is little Luigi at my
breast. There is the little Jesus in the church with no altar-
flame to cheer him, and you, padre, with no wine for the Living
Sacrifice, and here am I, Maria, with my beauty."
" Here are you, Maria, with your beauty ? "
She clasped her hands. to her lips, but they fell, startling to
a. murmur the baby on her knees.
" I must sit to this strange painter. All else has failed — the
fisheries are wrecked, the fishermen dead."
" If I had strength left, Maria, I would go to Rome ; but
then I must be here to minister to the dying. The painter's
gold means life and hope to the village. The women's hearts
may bleed, but to the pure of heart all things are pure."
** I love the women," murmured Maria, with tears on her
cold cheeks, " but I would let their love gQ to put bread in the
mouths of the babies. If the painter does not paint a holy pic-
ture of the sweet Mother! — you know, padre — but, padre mio,
it will be joy to me to see color in your cheeks once more !
Joy, yes — I will pay for the joy with my heart's blood a thou-
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7 so Padre Filippo's Madonna. [Mar.,
sand times ! I will sit to this painter "—she rose with the
child in her trembling arms — " yes, by the first kiss the Ma-
donna gave her Bambino and by the last!"
II.
Then straightway Padre Filippo left her and, climbing to
the church tower, rang the bell.
The women and children and the old men were kneeling in
weary groups before the Madonna's shrine in the street. Now
and again a child's hands flashed toward the stars' in pitiful
pleading, or a mother, worn with praying, rested her cheek
against the wall and let her tears fall upon the dying leaves of
the vines that trailed about the niche.
It was Padre Filippo's way to call them together by the
bell, and they had forgotten all but obedience to the angelic
old man. The scents of spring-time drifted through the win-
dows of the church, just as blithely as if the fishing-boats had
itot been lost at sea and old Madre Pellegini had not for-
gotten the stitches which served the village well, fifty years
ago, when the fishing failed and the women lived by lace ; but
the altar-lamp was dark.
" My children," Padre Filippo said, " Maria Roseti is going
to sit to this strange paiilter. She is to be the Mother of God
in his picture. The bambino at her breast is hungry. I have
not food to give her, nor have you. She is a flower-woman,
even so lowly a thing as a seller of forget-me-nots in the
streets, and you know, one arid all, she has lived by her
flowers as long as she could. Will forget-me-nots bloom in a
soil which the good God has forgotten ?
*' We have lived a life of holy dreams. There is scarce a
man of us who would not lose his way in Rome, but we have
seen the City of the Soul, as few have seen it — we have seen
it in visions. I would die rather than break the dream, but
God has sent us sorrows, more than the leaves on the tree, and
we are all crucified together.
'' Maria Roseti may be raised up as an angel of deliverance.
She is to be the Madonna in the picture, and by the love you
bear that divine Mother, cast no reproach upon this innocent
child."
He stood a moment while his words went home to their
souls.
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1898.] Padre Filippo's Madonna. 751
III.
The young artist came to the square in front of the chufch
to paint. There too came Maria Roseti, in a fresh blue home-
spun which she had washed that night in the cold brook.
Maria introduced Padre Filippo, and the painter said some
gentle words ; Padre Filippo did not speak, but a smile lighted
his . face. The painter might remember it afterwards, as a
judgment or a blessing. Padre Filippo carried the tiny Luigi
into the house, as he was not needed the first day.
"You must eat, Madonna, or I cannot paint you," Signor
Giovanni remarked, laying a .flagon of wine and a napkin on
Maria's knee. " You tremble so that I could never catch the
outline of your cheek."
M^ia untied the napkin with swift fingers. It was full of
olives.
" Please, signor, may I go to the padre a moment ? '*
He nodded and she ran away, but she might have known
that Padre Filippo would not eat her olives. He wa& fierce in
his refusal. Then she ran down to the village. A great fear
overshadowed her that the women — those sweet, shy women,
who had not been out of the village for centuries and had
looked upon the Madonna until their own faces had taken on
a very ecstasy of tearful modesty — might not speak to her;
but she did not know what Padre Filippo had done for her in
the church. They kissed her with a trembling reverence.
Maria gave them all the olives, and kept her hand in her
great pocket, making it seem that there were more. When
she went back to the painter he said to himself that his olives
were already starting the pink in her cheeks.
"Do not be afraid of me," he murmured, seeing her trem-
ble as he touched her veil.
" I have a mother at home who would love you, and I think
of her as I work."
She smiled.
His fingers moved among his colors, as she had seen Padre
Filippo's move over the keys of the organ in the church.
She knew, as she saw him touch his passionate crimsons and
plaintive blues, that he loved them as Padre Filippo loved the
throbbing notes. Resting her chin in her hand, she regarded
him now with the soft interest of a child.
"You would not dream how beautiful this land can be,
signor, with the sky blue, and the babies' eyes blue, and the
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752 Padre Filippo>s Madonna. [Mar.,
forget-me-nots. Now the sky is cold, and the same chill that
withers the flowers seems to have fallen upon the lovely eyes
of every bambinello in the village. Signor, it is sad ! "
"You will bring back beauty to the village, Madonna. I
will work and work, and the angels will help me."
It was not often in his warm young life that he thought
of the angels, and he looked from Maria to the sky.
All day the brush toiled on in his hand. Faintly, and yet
more faintly, he captured the lights and shadows of the flower-
woman's sad loveliness. When Maria spoke, it was but as a
fragment of music, or the voice of a bird, and he forgot to
answer. The sun set, and he stretched forth his arms as if to
bid it stay. But night was come. Dimly, Maria saw on the
canvas the woman she had never seen before, except on wash-
days, when she chanced to look into the brook, when the
ripples were still.
In his little house Padre Filippo was wetting the baby's
lips with his last drops of altar-wine and praying in his heart
for Maria. He had baptized her, had heard her flrst innocent,
funny little confession, had given her her First Communion,
and married her to Luigi Roseti, the sailor, his little Mary-
lily.
IV.
The bambino was set, like a living child, upon the mother's
knee in the picture ; but Giovanni came to Padre .Filippo in
great grief of heart, saying that he could not paint Maria
Roseti. The body had fallen away from the soul, and he could
not set down in crimson and blue, in human passion and
pathos, the spirit trembling beyond the flesh. He had grown
old at his work, and — yes, the padre, who loved truth and
hated a lie, could not deny it, he had failed!
"If what the painter says is true, padre mio, you may lay
the village people in one great grave together."
" And plant myself as a cross to mark the spot," said Padre
Filippo.
The painter gazed at Maria. Why had he painted only the
human mother, when the divine one was before his eyes, pale
and pure and dolorous beyond his dreams?
" Marry me, Maria, and come home with me across the
sea."
"O God!" said Maria, touching the baby's brown hair,
"have I not been once married?"
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1898.] Padre Filippo's Madonna. 753
Padre Filippo stood before the picture. His head was in
darkness, but the sunlight played with the fringes of his old
cassock. As he turned away his sleeve brushed the Madonna's
eyes and lips. He blurred the smile with tears /
When the painter saw it, he fell on his knees, for the
padre's touch had wrought a miracle upon the picture.
V.
Padre Filippo journeyed to Rome with the painter and the
picture, and the Holy Father sent for Maria Roseti. The
padre went back and brought her and the bambino. They
travelled all one summer day, and at night he found shelter
for them with a good old madre by the way, while he rested
outside with the donkeys. When the Holy Father saw them
standing in silent holiness at his palace gates he must have
thought of the Flight into Egypt.
Padre Filippo passed through the marble halls, between two
lines of Swiss soldiers, Maria walking humbly behind him, with
the peace of one who has tasted life and death. She did not
know that the world was at that moment kneeling before the
new Madonna. She only knew that she was in the palace
of princes and peasants alike, and that in her lowliness she
was welcome there. When the padre led her to the Holy
Father, she laid the baby in its swaddling clothes on the floor,
and fell at his feet.
" Behold Maria Roseti ! " said the voice of Padre Filippo in
the twilight of the room.
The Holy Father pushed the blue veil from her head and
laid his hand on her hair. She looked into his eyes. A tear
glistened on his frail hand, ^nd she wiped it away with her
own little handkerchief.
" Maria Roseti, you have saved your people and given the
world its divinest Madonna. The padre says the painter painted
the picture, and the painter says the padre painted it. Tell me,
child, was it the painter, or was it Padre Filippo ? "
" Holy Father, the painter painted the picture of me, but
it was Padre Filippo who changed it from me to the Ma-
donna."
" Then shall Padre Filippo have the name and the gold ! **
" Give the painter the name and the gold," said Padre
Filippo. "Give me only bread for my people till the ships
come home."
VOL. LXVI.— 48
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754 Padre Filippo's Madonna. [Mar.,
"And, Holy Father/' cried Maria with radiant eyes, "bless
the bambino."
She lifted Luigi in her arms. Padre Filippo knelt beside
her.
"Maria Rosetti," the Holy Father's voice trembled with his
great weariness, for it was the last blessing he ever gave,
"may God give this child his mother's strong faith and perfect
love ! May God give his mother grace to see with her dying
eyes the vision of the Holy pother, which her love has
wrought for the world — and may Padre Filippo know his own
in heaven ! "
Padre Filippo went out from the palace gates with Maria
and Luigi. He carried a little bag of gold, and they rode away
into the sunset.
Giovanni writes to offer Maria his laurels and his love.
Padre Filippo takes a trembling pen to answer the letter.
" Signor," he says, " Maria Roseti bids me write to you, in her
name. She has written few letters in her young life, and she
feels timid with ink and paper. She is at the brook now, wash-
ing the altar-linens, as the Madonna washed the swaddling
clothes of the Bambino beautiful. Maria thanks you for your
faithful love, but she was married for life and death to Luigi
Roseti, the sailor, and she is but 'a poor flower-woman in the
poorest village in Italy. The Holy Father's blessing has come
back from Rome with her. The hills are in deep bloom. One
would think Our Lady had trailed her blue robe over the cold
earth. The fishing-boats have come home and the grapes are
ready for the wine-press.
" To-day is Maria's birthday and the women have crowned
her with roses. She sends you this little cross and the one
white rose. It is the gift of a simple heart. .
" The birds must sing Vespers for me this evening, for I am
weary. Glory to God, sign or, and good-night.
"Padre Filippo."
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iSpS-] The Weapon OF Fiction AGAINST THE Church. 755
THE WEAPON OF FICTION AGAINST THE CHURCH.
BY WALTER LECKY.
[FTER reading a book of short stories whose only
object was to blacken the Catholic Church, the
thought a journalist expressed years ago came
to me at its full worth. " The best weapon,"
said the man of the pen, ''with which to fight
Rome in America is fiction. A novelist can do more damage
with one popular novel creating prejudice than a historian who
has written the full of a library of books. Of course the his-
torian is good in his way. His books are gold, to be sure ;
but it's the novelist that coins his gold and puts it into circu-
lation, else it might lie in his mint known only .to himself and
a limited few of his friends. Circulation gives power, and
power creates prejudice."
This journalist had long felt the pube of the common
people and knew how easy it was to form prejudice in their
minds. It was only a question of getting them to read, as
what they read was, in most cases, believed without even the
proverbial grain of salt. They had no time to examine, simple
belief being much easier ; their betters, the expert novelists, had
gone to fountain-heads and it was not their province to ques-
tion the masters.
CONTROVERSY RUN TO SEED.
This journalist believed in his thought, as was evidenced
from his continual preaching, both by mouth and pen, the
praise of those books wherein, to phrase after his manner,
"the harlequin Rome was painted in the darkest color." He
believed he had a message — most wielders of the pen do. His
was to keep an eye on Rome for the sake of the beloved
Republic. We should not wonder that message-bearers feel the
importance of the message so keenly that they are incapable
of losing sight of it, even when their work requires its forgetful-
ness. In every book-review that this journalist begot — and like
all his race he prided himself on his competency to say a word
of enlightenment on every book that passed through his hands
— message-absorbed and republic-loving, he took care to hint
that the reader of the book under review would do well to con-
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756 The Weapon OF Fiction AGAINST THE Church. [Man,
suit Mortimer's Jesuit^ Lea's Disclosures of Romanism, or Miss
Hunter's enthralling romance. The Abbess foan. Perhaps his
most memorable feat was in reviewing a book on ostrich-farm-
ing in California, and conveying his message in the shape of a
eulogy on the Chronicles of the Schonberg Cotta Family, pro-
claiming that book to be pure history thrown in the form of
fiction, the better to perform its mission, which was also his, to
keep a check on Rome. "If ostriches could be acclimatized
and successfully raised, what a boon to the Republic ! They
would be its saving. Catholicism was its destruction." It was
his opinion that the enemies of Catholicism would soon dis-
cover that fiction was the most powerful weapon that could be
employed against their old foe.'
FICTION HOLDS THE MONOPOLY.
While dismissing him, I cannot but be just and allow him
to retire with the honored name of prophet. Fiction has cor-
nered the century and no genius is above its adoption. The
poets who, in the days of old, wore the crown and were the
lords of the earth and occupiers of the first benches, have re-
tired, not only in favor of the three-volume novelist but even
to make room for the short-story-teller, and novelist and story*
teller, as well they may, have fallen deeply in love with their
dignity and importance. • The clamor of the commonplace is
enough for most men to rest their dignity and importance upon.
Now, to show these qualities, which were never held in as much
esteem as we lovers of democracy hold them, their happy pos-
sessors, full of the wisdom that -cometh by intuition, reject
all creeds prior to their reign as childish and superstitious, sup-
plying at the same time their own creed, which is modern, scien-
tific, and expansive* In doing this they have to clear away the
debris of the past, a most difficult undertaking, as even the
greatest amongst them admit. But, when we know that this
debris happens to be the Catholic Church, should we not read
their books with less complaining about fair play? What'
should it matter what way an old building is pulled down, and
yet " we," say the novelist and story-teller, " go about tearing
down this useless and antiquated eyesore in the most approved
fashion. We always begin with the columns and arches." To
turn their allegorical language into simpler speech, they do
not attack the common Catholic people, but their leaders, the
priests whose portraits, no matter in what country produced, bear
unmistakably the same mint-marks of prejudice and dishonesty.
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1898.] The Weapon of Fiction against the Church. 757
priestly exceptions.
If any good quality is found in a priestly portrait, it will
be limited by the caution that he is not like other priests, that
he is a man of science, a liberal, and getting ready to cast
off the old absurdity. French fiction in depicting the priest
descends to the most degrading art. An artist of the power of
Hugo revels in drawing the most brutalizing characters as
priests. Lesser artists outrage every canon of taste in order
that their enemies, the preachers of religion, should be held up
to the reader without a single redeeming quality. And since
the days that Victor Hugo drew the priest of Notre Dame,
French fiction in handling this character, and somehow or
other it has become a pet figure, becomes more and more dis-
gusting. Nor can one wonder when the animus of the writers
is well understood and the morality of the race of readers
to whom the vile caricatures appeal. French fiction is at its
lowest ebb, godless and soulless ; the finer characteristics of
man are entirely swept away for the " half-savage human ani-
mal, without dignity, decency, or drapery." Poetry is banished,
ideals smashed, beauty unknown ; man is a sensual brute, and if
there be a class lower than another, it is the teacher of ideals
of the spiritual and beautiful — the priests. Now and then a
romance writer may rise above his level and in a sentimental
mood draw an Abb6 Constantin — hugged, I am sorry to say, by
not a few Catholics as a fine specimen of the priesthood. I
should pity the future of Catholicity if the weak-willed, simple
abb^s of the Constantin type were to be its standard-bearers.
If one characteristic more than another is to be found stamped
in the lives of those who were the seed-scatterers of the gospel,
it is virility. That did not make them a 'Nvhit less gentle when
gentleness was more needful than strength. It kept them from
ever being thought weak ; and of all failings what could be more
deplorable in a leader of men than weakness? The French
school is well aware of this fact, and in painting the priesthood
skilfully shows it through their own malicious brain-puppets to
have no backbone, to be irresolute and weak, willing to sell
everything for a government stipend.
" How," asks this school, holding the portrait close to the
reader's face, '^ can this little abb^, whose body and soul I
have put in your possession, be your leader either here or to
the spiritual dominions over which he claims such gigantic
power? If he believed in his mission, would he become a
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statue in his own home, reading his breviary and mumbling
prayers for better days, while those who own my sway carry
off his sheep, train his Iambs to dread him as a wolf? That
was not the way of his predecessors. But," continues this school,
with sympathy in its voice, ** the wonderful old church, like all
human things, has had her day. She is fading and perishing
from the face of the earth, and soan must be gone; and this,
her last race of teachers, but tell of her corruption and decay."
FRANCE IS RETURNING TO MORAL SANITY.
To these vile pictures — scattered broadcast through transla-
tions found wherever men read — what antidote has Catholic
France offered ? It is hard to admit that the land of Bossuet
and Dupanloup has had to go begging to other than Catholic
writers for a defence — hard to think it must content itself with
the half-hearted utterances of a Brunetifere ! Catholic France is
dumb while her enemies call her but carrion, and hover over
her as a flock of buzzards darkening the sun. And yet to the
keen observer there are not wanting signs that France desires to
rise from her long demoralization, to turn away from the volup-
tuous, monstrous, and morbid, the dishes on which she has so
long fed, were there a voice of Catholic criticism to lead her
to taste and morals.
The recent publication of a brace of books dealing with
clerical life from the point of the cleric, and the enthusiasm
that greeted their appearance, leads us to believe that, despite
the long clerical campaign, there are many who still hold the
true idea of the priesthood and want but the magic touch of a
leader's hand to make its beauty known. And the priesthood
should prepare for this leader, to help him to raise France
again and subdue her with that larger life once her boast, now
a fading remembrance.
THE TEUTONIC IDEA OF THE PRIEST.
German fiction has also tried its hand on the Catholic priest,
as should be expected from the land of Luther ; but the char-
acterization, if duller than that of her Gaelic neighbor, is less
vile. The Teutonic mind is readily capable of rough epithets,
as Luther long ago substantially demonstrated, but it is just as
incapable of the filthy refinement of the French mind. Ger-
many could never produce a Zola. The priest of the German
novel is cunning and full of casuistry, two qualities long held by
German divines to be found in all those who were in any ca-
pacity affiliated with Rome. The Reformers found them, and
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their brethren ever since believe in keeping up the good old
tradition. This style of portrait may be best seen in a writer
like Felix Dahm, who pretends, under the guise of fiction, to
draw historical pictures which shall be both truthful and accu-
rate to the times. It is, however, but a hollow pretence, un-
suspiciously as it may read. In his Last of the Vandals he
draws with imposing strokes Verus the priest, polished, astute,
cunning, and soulless. He is a Catholic priest, but to Gelimer,
the Vandal king, he passes himself as an Arian. When Gelimer
is in the hands of his conqueror, Verus, the traitor, looks for
his pay; and here is the edict read to him by the emperor's
general, Belisarius :
"*Imperator Caesar Flavins Justinianus Augustus, the pious,
fortunate, and illustrious ruler and general, conqueror of the
Alemanni, Franks, Germans, Antians, Alani, Persians, and now
also of the Vandals, the Moors, and of Africa, to Verus the
Archdeacon :
" * You have preferred to carry on with my saintly consort,
the empress, rather than with myself, a secret correspondence
in regard to the overthrow of the tyrant by our arms and
with the aid of God. She promised, in case we should conquer,
to request from me the reward which you desire. Theodora
does not ask in vain from Justinian. Since you have established
the fact that your acceptance of the heretic belief was mere
pretence, that in your heart you remained a steadfast adhe-
rent of the true faith, and were recognized as such by your
Catholic confessor, who was empowered to grant you a dis-
pensation for the outward appearance of this sin, your stand-
ing as an orthodox priest cannot be questioned. Therefore, I
command Belisarius by virtue of this letter to proclaim you
forthwith the Catholic Bishop of Carthage. Hear, all ye Car-
thaginians and Romans! I proclaim, in the name of the em-
peror, that Verus is the Catholic Bishop of Carthage — *to set
upon your head the bishop's mitre and to place in your hand
the bishop's staff.* Kneel down. Bishop.' "
This extract is sufficient to bring out the German idea of
the priest as he steps through the long, laborious pages of the
romance. This idea tallies with what English history, purport-
ing to be real, paints the Jesuits to be after the success of the
Reformation. The extract is sufficient to show how much Pro-
fessor Dahm knows about the office he attempts to portray, a
fact which has not gone unchallenged in the fatherland. Ger-
many is a land of criticism, and the hideous caricature that may
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go unrebuked in a Latin country will be ridiculed and shorn of
its venom by German scholarship. And this scholarship is con-
fessedly high among German Catholics. Their critics are as much
at home in polite literature as in the literature of knowledge.
THE CRITICISM OF UNNATURAL NOVELS NEVER TRANSLATED
WITH THE novel!
On this account the work of Dahm, Ebers, etc., challenged
on its first appearance by a searching and salutary criticism
from literary journals as able as any in the empire, loses its
venom, no matter how masterly directed. A critic of the
knowledge and force of Baumgartner or Hettinger will always
be held in consideration by even the most audacious mud-slinger.
German Catholic criticism — or, for that matter, any kind of
foreign Catholic criticism — is rarely, if ever, produced in Eng-
lish, while the novels it criticises are quickly turned into that
tongue, proclaimed masterpieces, and placed on some counter
in every hamlet of our land, to instil their poison without the
slightest protest. Because Catholics have not bought the many
hundred volumes of emasculated trash, published under the
high-sounding name of Catholic Literature, the libel has gone
out that they are not book-buyers. Nothing could be more
absurd. They buy these translations, in most cases done into
a very readable English, well printed, tastefully bound, and
eagerly read them. The " Introduction " artfully enfolds a tale
of the author, half biographical, half critical, the biography ro-
mantic, the criticism laudatory. The Catholic reader, knowing no
better, having no guide to direct him, believes that the priests
over the seas may be " curious," as I once heard one of them,
with a grave head-shake, remark. The novel that had begot
this shake had been thoroughly criticised and flayed by a
Catholic critic, but as he wrote in German, his work was, of
course, unknown to English readers. Yet, no sooner had I put
before this reader the salient points of the review, wherein
the novelist's reason for depicting the Catholic priesthood with
ill-favor was shown in all its ugly nakedness, than he made the
old query : Why don't we have something like this in English ?
Who would write it? I thought; and if it was written, who
would publish it? The other day a bookseller declared that
only two classes of books can sell amongst us — pious fiction
and piety ; and as his vindication, triumphantly pointed to
Brownson lying on his shelf for many years, unhonored and un-
known.
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1898.] The Weapon of Fiction against the Church. 761
modern italian fiction.
Italian fiction is in many respects similar to that of France,
and it could hardly be otherwise, as France is the fertile mother
from whence it sprung. Once Italian fiction was little less than
charming, under the magic influence of Manzoni. Manzoni,
however, is no longer a name to conjure with ; other gods have
arisen — ^the Fragas, Steechettis, and Vergas. Their battle-cry
is realism at any price, and realism of the French school. Mr.
Howells, who has long been engaged in introducing •' Realists "
to English readers, writes of one of Signor Verga's books " as
one of the most perfect pieces of literature that I know "; and
again : " When we talk of the great modern movement towards
reality, we speak without the documents if we leave this book
out of the count, for I can think of no other novel in which
the facts have been more faithfully reproduced, or with a pro-
founder regard for the poetry that resides in facts and resides
nowhere else."
This, to be sure, is but Mr. Howells* opinion, the opinion
of one of Verga's school, but it is sufficient to sell the book.
What is Verga's attitude towards the priesthood ? Whatever it
is, it will be found to be the attitude of his school, and books
of his school are the only books to whom the honor of trans-
lation is awarded.
In his acknowledged masterpiece. The House by the Medlar
Treey Signor Verga draws the Italian conception, as held by
his school, of a Catholic priest. Don Giamara is narrow and
bigoted, a man of neither education nor piety, indolent and
careless in the exercise of his official duties, flinging two or
three asperges of holy water on a bier, muttering prayers be-
tween his teeth, or exorcising spirits at thirty centimes each.
There is no love between him and his parishioners. He is not
their father, but a cunning official who sells his offices at the
highest price. Provided that his larder is full, the sorrows of
the fishing-village in which his lot is cast trouble him little.
He is, in fine, what we cannot think of in connection with the
true priest — worldly. This picture of Don Giamara, repulsive as
it is, may be taken as the most favorable of this school. It is
not flattering, but then it is not further debased by immorality.
SPANISH FICTION IS ON THE DOWN GRADE.
Spanish fiction, while not as degrading as that of French
and Italian, is nevertheless on the downward course. The
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younger followers of Galdos and Pereda look to Paris for
their inspiration. The priests that play in their pages are
scarcely, if ever, an honor to the priesthood. They are weak,
bigoted, and uneducated. Novelists of the power of Coloma
and Bazan, and their rank is in the iirst class, in some way
redeem Spanish fiction by their exquisite pictures of Catholic
life and the delicacy with which the Spanish priest is drawn,
in the midst of his flock, ministering to their wants. When the
Pequenaces of Coloma was lately published in Germany, it was
found that all the purely Catholic phrases that were not cut
out were so twisted and toned down that the author could not
have known his own work. This is but a specimen of the way
in which the enemy grind all grist in their own mills.
Spain has, like Germany, a critical tribunal, by which readers
may know the value of any study, whether of priest or people.
The most eminent of Spanish critics are dutiful sons of the
church, watching and dethroning the literature that would
usurp her sway. Their criticism, brilliant and needful as it is,
unlike the novels against which it is hurled, is unknown out
of Spain. The novelists, on the contrary, find in every land
sponsors whose highest ambition is to preach the greatness
of their favorites.
THE PROLIFIC HUNGARIAN JOKAI.
Another country must not be passed over, and that on
account of the genius of one of its sons, whose books are now
widely read in English. Hungary has given us Maurus Jokai,
who boasts a library of his own books of more than three
hundred and fifty volumes, ''bound, according to the caprice of
the publisher, in a variety of sizes." Of this enormous literary
production, the constant work of fifty years, about two hun-
dred volumes have been translated into English. As Jokai
tells us in his literary recollections that he came early under
the influence of Sue and Hugo, this might be a sufficient in-
dex of the style of portrait in which his priests would be
drawn. It is not, however, and this, possibly, is owing to the
influence of German literature to which he has been passion*
ately attached. His clergy are after the German pattern : weak,
clumsy, superstitious, cowardly, shrewd, cunning, ambitious,
close to the soil or walking in the skies as it is necessary to
stamp the puppet. You feel that he knows nothing of their
real life and that he owes them a spite, that no opportunity
must pass without his spleen coming to the surface.
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1898.] The Weapon of Fiction against the Church. 763
His methods of doing this are often amateurish, and sug-
gest the efforts of the weekly sensational story-writcr rather
than the trained novelist. The whole scene of the Mass trav-
esty in the cellar of the Countess Thendelinde's castle, and the
simplicity, superstition, and cowardice of Pastor Mahok, as
found in his novel Black Diamonds^ is a point at instance.
Criticism so loses its head when the character of a priest is
to be weighed that justice flies the scales. I have heard this
scene praised as a masterpiece, an immortal creation, and a
great many other phrases from the current language of criticism,
a language used without the slightest appreciation of its value.
The Hungarian novelist has caught the trick, when drawing
a priest with some favor, of impressing on his readers that this
puppet is better than the other puppets on account of the
ribbons he wears around his neck. Behold, says Jokai, he is
both liberal and scientific, and these admirable qualities are his
badge of honor. It does not matter if in the course of the
novel the puppet lose the character with which the stage-
master introduced him to the audience. That was but a gen-
tle lapse of the novelist, who did not keep clearly in his eye
that the puppet was Jabelled liberal and scientific, and so allowed
him to fall into the common class.
Here is the way Jokai puts upon the stage a priest of this
description. It is not without humor to the intelligent Catholic
reader, who will at once scent the game of the novelist, which
is to praise qualities ordinarily found in every priest, as mak-
ing extraordinary the one in which they are found. This can
have no name but that of dishonesty:
" The abb6 was a man of high calling ; one of those priests
who are more or less iadepandent in their ideas. He had
friendly relations with a certain personage, and the initiated knew
that certain articles with the signature 'S,' which appeared in
the opposition paper, were from his pen. In society he was
agreeable and polished, and his presence never hindered rational
enjoyment.
" In intellectual circles he shone ; his lectures, which were
prepared with great care, were attended by the dite of society,
and, as a natural consequence, the ultramontane papers were
much against him. Once, even, the police had paid him a
domiciliary visit, although they themselves did not know where-
in he had given cause for suspicion. All these circumstances
had raised his reputation, which had lately been increased by
the appearance of his picture in a first-rate illustrated journal.
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764 The Weapon of Fiction.against the Church. [Mar.,
This won for him the general public. So stately was his air,
his high, broad forehead, manly, expressive features, well-
marked eyebrows, and frank, fearless look, with nothing sinis-
ter or cunning in it. For the rest, there was little of the
priest about him; his well-knit, robust, muscular form was
rather that of a gladiator. Through the whole country he was
well known as the independent priest, who ventured to tell the
government what he thought."
The literature of Russia and Norway, so much in vogue
and so enthusiastically preached by a band of critics, who
happen to control the leading reviews both in England and in
this country, have no Catholic priest portraits in their litera-
ture. In one country he has never had a footing, from the other
he had vanished long before the rise of its fiction. The nov-
elists of Holland and Belgium but echo the tunes of Paris.
Poland has but too recently opened her treasures, but these,
as was to be thought of so Catholic a land, give the true spirit
of clerical life.
The priest of English fiction, whether he figures in the pages
.of Disraeli, Thackeray, or Lever, is too well known to discuss.
He is one of two types : cunning and polished, with Rome in
full front of his eyes, or rollicking and devil-me-care.
THE PRIEST IN AMERICAN FICTION.
American fiction has of late entered this domain and given
us a series of priest-portraits drawn from the libels of France,
but considerably toned down, as our tastes are not as yet so
piquant as the Gallic.
The books in which these portraits appear have had a
large sale, and the critics of the same mind as the authors
have not hesitated to proclaim these fancy caricatures as gen-
uine portraits of the American priesthood. And as faithful
transcripts will not the readers accept them ? inasmuch as the
authors or their friends, in crafty forewords, declare that they
are but aeolian harps registering impressions. If a favorable
tune had been played on the strings it would have been all
the same, but it was not so ; what was played was registered
without the slightest bias one way or the other. These writers
never violate the impersonality of art ; like Flaubert, they would
rather be skinned alive. Their greedy, unthinking readers never
question their fallacious theory ; they accept lovingly the tyranny
of their fiction.
As warfare, then, is proclaimed by the most powerful and in-
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1898.] The Weapon of Fiction against the Church. 765
sidious foe — the fiction art — against the Catholic Church, and
that in the most seductive and effective manner, by the break-
ing of her idols, the Catholic priesthood, it behooves the church
to listen no longer to those who have been so long preaching
the little influence wielded by the novel, but to awake to the
power of the foe that so relentlessly confronts her and do
him battle. She cannot even save her own from his rapacious
maw by putting him on the Index, and yet she is not totally
unprepared to give him battle.
It is a trained soldiery, not ammunition, that is lacking, not
only to drive the enemy back and retrieve the allegiance of those
who have wandered from her fold, but also to capture and con-
vert to her standard many of those who now do her incessant
battle. And how can this be done ? There is but one way con-
ceivable. "We must acquire," says Dr. Barry, "what an ad-
mirable priest of the French Oratory, M. Labertonni^re, calls
* the concrete living knowledge ' of our own generation. We
are not," says this same writer, " left destitute of the princi-
ples on which to distinguish between good and bad. We, too, as
Catholics, have our science of morals, our laws of the beautiful,
our scales and weights of justice, our patterns laid up in heaven."
Why cannot we use these to sift, to weigh, to choose? By
these may we not know the wheat and brand the tare? In
order that this may be done, what can be more desirable than
that for which Dr. Barry pleads so ably — an international so-
ciety of "well-trained Catholic men of letters, whose task it
should be to watch over the movement of literature as a whole,"
to judge it by Catholic principles, and proclaim its value, no
matter where produced?
Fiction met in this way, world-wide as it is, challenged by a
criticism as world-wide, would no longer have the tyranny it now
wields. It could no longer hoodwink the public by playing pup-
pets as men, nor, under the guise of being true to nature, carica-
ture truth. Neither would it be able to lean against its old safety,
prop, impersonality in fiction, and spit spleen and prejudice on
nobility and beauty. The critics who heedlessly shout its glo-
ries and make its least duck a stately swan, would either find
their occupation gone or else be compelled to write that which
was legitimate criticism. A Dahm, Zola, or Jokai could no
longer offer his priestly caricatures in open mart, and find men
to unwittingly buy them as bits of truth, for such a critical
tribunal as Dr. Barry outlines would have heralded to all that
read the literary and ethic value of their portraits.
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766 '■' Pa trick's Da y in the Morning." [Mar.,
"PATRICK'S DAY IN THE MORNING."
BY DOROTHY GRESHAM.
ROSS the lough, over the park, up to. my win-
dows in the first flush of the bright March morn-
ing comes the shrill sound of the iife-and-drum
band heralding the national festival. The well-
known air, dear to the Irish heart all the world
over and fraught with a thousand happy memories, is thumped
and whacked and murdered with delightful originality, which
makes one's spirits and humor run up with exhilarating veloc-
ity. I am on the floor and, regardless of creature comforts or
inflammatory rheumatism, throw wide the windows to get the
full benefit of the tune.
I see the boys tramping down the road in elaborate green
decorations. The **big drum " is having it all his own way, and
his musical, poetic soul is being spent to sound effect on his
ponderous instrument. Never mind, it is glorious ; and I feel
an irresistible desire to execute a few steps across the room to
the jiggy melody. In the breakfast-room I find a huge sham-
rock on my plate, which I proudly fasten on my jacket. Kevin
is also so adorned and looks imposing, while even Nell is an
Irishwoman for the day. There is an unusual brisk air over
the establishment, gay laughs and subdued jokes echo every-
where ; the band has roused them all, and filled them with com-
ing expectations of still more exciting performances. It is a
Fair Day in the village, and after Mass all the retainers will
have the day, winding up with festivities at home. As I hurry
out on my way to Crusheen to be in time for Mass, I meet
the postman and pick out a letter from Kitty, to be shared
with Aunt Eva on our way to the chapel. The day is lovely,
carrying out the old adage that '' March comes in like a lion
and goes out like a lamb." The sun is quite warm, the moun-
tains throw back their rays in glinting radiance, the lough is still
as glass and blue as the cloudless sky above it. The fields below
me are yellow with golden daffodils, and I mentally contem-
plate a floral feast on my return, if the children are not before
me to carry off my treasures. The road is crowded with loaded
cars and carts going to town ; the country is deserted for the
sights and amusements of the fair. Con is waiting as I come
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1898.] " Pa trick's Da y in the Morning'* 767
out on the lawn* Evidently I am behind-time — " a true St.
Thomas/' as Aunt Eva calls me, and I cannot deny the affini
ty, protesting, however, that it is well to be saint-like in some-
thing. I pull out Kitty's letter while we drive down the avenue,
and as I read it is almost like a peep at her sunny self. After
paragraphs of teasing and banter, she becomes serious and says :
" Are you by this time Paddy enough to rejoice with u§ in our
peculiarly happy — glorious, so I think — feast? To me, since I
can remember, Patrick's Day has always brought me a feeling
of joy and pride different from all the other feasts of the year
— ^joy that such a great soul was sent to plant the faith on our
beautiful island, and pride that our forefathers never made the
saint sorry that he had come among them. The flag he unfurled
five hundred years ago floats to-day as radiantly after yearly,
daily, even hourly onslaught from the enemy. I glory in be-
ing Irish for that reason above all others! In preparing my
meditation this morning these thoughts came to my mind, and
I send them to you versified as a souvenir of your first Patrick's
Day in Ireland :
" Oh I Catholic land, my island home ;
Bright emerald gem 'mid ocean's foam.
Loved by thy children where'er they roam,
My faithful, thorn-crowned Ireland I
When Famine stalked throughout the land.
Not checked by God's mysterious hand,
And smote in death each noble band.
Still lived the Faith in Ireland.
To crush thee persecution tried ;
With hate and crime was power allied,
When fiercely raged the battle-tide
For the grand old Faith in Ireland.
Like brilliant star on sullen night,
Trembling and glittering, radiant-bright.
Rejoicing the pilgrim with its light.
Shone out the Faith in Ireland.
As a beacon-light o'er the stormy wave,
Shining aloft to guide and save >
The mariner doomed to an ocean grave.
Flashed out the Faith in Ireland !
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When the ruthless sword shed martyrs' blood,
And hallowed thy soil with a crimson flood,
Ready and bold her brave men stood
To die for the Faith in Ireland.
Gone are those days of woe and dread,
Mourn'd and shrined the immortal dead ;
And Hope exultant lifts her head
To crown Thee, faithful Ireland.
No longer in cave or mountain pass
Gather by stealth brave lad and lass
At break of day for holy Mass,
As when penal days cursed Ireland.
When Freedom's light bedecks thy hills.
And rapture every bosom fills.
When with new life the nation thrills.
May Faith still reign in Ireland ! "
We are by this time going through the village street, and
the crowds are so dense that Con has hard work to steer
through the cows, horses, donkeys, and men. Around the
chapel gates the throng is greatest. The country congregations
for miles are filing into Mass, and when at last we find our-
selves inside, the sight is magnificent! Not a spot unoccupied;
men, women, and children are packed together, adorned with
green ribbons, Patrick's crosses, and the whole is one sea of
surging, emerald shamrocks! Father Tom comes out to begin
Mass with bowed head, and as he faces the congregation to
read " the Acts " and the long " Prayer before Mass " always
said in Ireland, his eyes light up at the great, enthusiastic
crowd assembled to thank God for the great gift that is in
them. After the Gospel he speaks to them, as a father to
his children, as a pastor to his people, a shepherd to his flock.
Few, simple, and earnest are his words. Clear and forcible the
old priest's voice falls on that unlettered throng.
"One of our dear Lord's last words to his Apostles before
he left them was, * And you shall give testimony of me because
you have been with me from the beginning,' and to-day, my
children, I repeat them to you. Those true Catholic fore-
fathers of ours of happy memory have edified the world by
the brave show they have made of the Irish faith that was in
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1898.] ''Patrick's Day in the Morning:' 769
them — and we, their children, are too often on this glorious
feast their shame and degradation ! Our spirits are high, and
alas! get the better of us, and when we are .in the public
house and on the village street we give poor proofs of the
faith of our fathers. Let us change all this to-day. I appeal
to you all before the altar. Let every public house be closed
after four o'clock this afternoon, and half an hour later you
will all meet me here for the Benediction of the Blessed Sac-
rament. Then, when our Lord has blessed you, I expect you
will go to your homes, happy and holy Irishmen, and hold
your rejoicing with your family, and God, I know, will be with
you."
We stream out when the crowd has somewhat dispersed,
and Con drives slowly through the village that I may see
everything. The cows have been sold for the greater part or
sent home, and the games and meetings of friends have begun.
Country girls in holiday gowns, with their mothers, cousins,
aunts, and sisters, parade up and down, bright, rosy, and bliss-
ful. The game of Aunt Sally attracts crowds, gingerbread
stalls line the streets, a ballad-singer shouts out some topical
song to a popular air, and the country boys hang on every
line, loudly applauding a good hit at some local landlord or
Dublin Castle. Children stand open-mouthed before the shop
windows, telling each other what they should like of all the
treasures so alluringly arranged behind the glass. On their
right shoulders is fastened the Patrick's Cross, and the merits
of each one is warmly discussed. The cross is made of a
round piece of paper pinked and gilded ; down the centre is a
cross of bright ribbons, a marvel of coloring, the very thing to
charm a child, and their little, transparent faces tell of the
fascination. I see many of my old friends among the crowd,
but they are too far off and engaged to take any notice of
me. We drive out of town to Shanbally, where we are to
lunch with Mrs. Baily. We have not met since the ball, and
she is loud in her laudations of my donkey-driving, and is
more Shaksperean and classic than ever. I have learnt to laugh
now at my nocturnal adventures, and Aunt Eva does not spare
me. Not a point lost, not a look missed, and we have much
fun over my steed and myself.
Some hours later, going back to the chapel, the town pre-
sents an utterly changed appearance ; the shops are closed, the
streets are deserted, and every one is either on the road to his
distant home or on the way to Benediction. We find the
VOL. LXVI. — 49
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^^o " Pa trick^s Da y in the Mornings [Mar.,
people waiting and praying as we enter the chapel ; and after
comes the Rosary, nowhere so beautiful as in Ireland, the wail
of the " Holy Marys " rising like a mighty prayer to her who
is indeed their Queen and Mistress.
The Tantunt ergo rings softly through the old building.
With clasped hands and bowed head the old priest prays for
his people before the Prisoner of Love enthroned above the
kneeling congregation. What a sight in this age of scepticism !
— ^the poor plain chapel, the venerable saintly priest, the ardent,
devotional, impetuous people, who have cheerfully curtailed
their pleasures and shortened their longJooked-for amusement
to come here at the simple word of an old man. Oh, the
wonderful power of a good priest, on whose very look and act
hang the salvation of many souls! We linger till the last
echoing footsteps have died away, and then steal away, awed,
edified, enchained. Back to Dungar with the dying sun, Uncle
and Aunt Eva coming for the evening to be present at the
drowning of the shamrock. Great preparations for kitchen
festivities have been made. Crusheen sends all its household,
and a large party of the servants' friends come for Patrick's
night by long-established custom. Father Tom arrives for tea,
to show his approval of home-rejoicings to-night. The fun
waxes merrily down-stairs, and sounds of hilarity and laughter
come gaily now and then to us in the drawing-room. At nine
o'clock Father Tom wishes to say good night, and Kevin sug-
gests that he should see the visitors before he leaves. To speak
is to accomplish, and we all assemble in the great old hall,
Father Tom in a huge chair in the centre. With shy, roguish,
smiling faces they gather round him and he has something pleas-
ant to say to each one. Many bon motSj bulls, flashes of native
wit greet his descent on them. Con is radiant at the dacent way
the neighbors behaved this blessed and holy day, and as
Father Tom's eyes fall on him a smile lights up his old face.
Turning to Nell, he says, " Have you ever heard Con sing his
'Irish Jig is the Dance'?"
" Never," she answers in surprise, " and I should be delighted
to hear him."
" Well then you must ; you could not do so on a better
night. Come, Con, stand out there and let Mrs. Fortescue see
what you can do." The poor old fellow protests, but Father
Tom's word is law, and he timidly strikes up, to an accelerated
measure of Moore's " One Bumper at Parting," the following
words, as well as I remember them :
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1898.] ''Patrick's Day in the Morning^ 771
I.
Me blessin's upon you, auld Ireland,
The dear land of frolic and fun !
For all sorts of mirth and divarsion
Your like isn't under the sun.
Bohemia may boast of her polkas,
And Spain of her waltzes talk big,
But they're nothin' but limpin' and twisting,
Compared with our own Irish jig.
Chorus.
A fig for those new-fashioned dances,
Imported from Spain and from France ;
And away with that thing called the pollka —
Our own Irish jig is the dance!
II.
The light-hearted daughters of Erin,
Like wild deer on their mountains they bound ;
Their feet never touch the green island.
But music springs up at the sound.
To see them on hill-side and valley,
They dance the jig with such grace
That the little daisies they tread on
Look up with delight in their face !
III.
This jig was greatly in fashion
With the heroes and great men of yore;
Brian Boru himself used to foot it
To a tune they call Rory O'More.
And oft in the great halls of Tara,
As the poets and bards do tell,
Auld Queen O'Toole and her ladies
Used to dance it and sing it as well!
Bravo, Con ! never heard you better, is the universal verdict
that drowns the old man's last notes. We are all charmed.
Even Father Tom is excited, and cries out : •* Now, Con, let
Mrs. Fortescue see for herself what a real Irish jig is like, and
after that she will think very little of polkas and waltzes, I
promise you. Come, Thade, give us ' Paddy O'Carroll ' on that
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J72 Memento, Homo, quia Pulvis es. [Mar.
fiddle of yours." The dance begins, and the light step, agility,
and poetry of the octogenarian are marvellous. The enthusiasm
of the days long dead, when he revelled on the cross-roads and
joined the village gatherings, when he footed at wedding and
Patron, return to his old way-worn feet, and the sight is inimi-
table.
I have seen many jigs on the stage, very good ones indeed,
but they were, after all, nothing but acting. Here in this
ancient Irish hall, with a genuine Irish audience, Thade's native
music, the old white-haired priest and Con, the central figure,
will always stand out as one of my most racy, enchanting
traditional pictures of pure poetical, whole-souled Irish life.
MEMENTO, HOMO, QUIA PULVIS ES.
EMEMBER, son of man, that thou art dust,
And unto dust returnest : bow thy head
In token of submission ; hath God said.
And shall it not be done? Then let thy
trust
Be in His mercy, who will never thrust
Thy suppliant soul from Him ; thy only dread
Be of offending Him whose blood was shed
That thou, too, might'st be numbered with the just.
Remember, man, death cometh, slow or fast,
And, after dark, the judgment, just and sure,
Of God, the upright Judge ; wouldst thou secure
His favor, and a crown, when death is past ?
Remember still thiae end ; live true, live pure.
So shalt thou rise from dust to life at last.
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Mother Mary de. Sales Chappuis.
A VISITANDINE OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY.
the 27th of July last the Mother Mary de
Sales Chappuis who died at Troyes, France, in
1875, was declared Venerable by the Court of
Rome. Thus the preliminary step has been
taken towards the canonization of one whose
long life was a continual marvel of heavenly benedictions and
divine communications. Like St. John Berchmans, she is a type
of the " extraordinarily ordinary " saint, who arrives at so high
a degree of sanctity by the performance of every-day duties in
a spirit of love of the divine good pleasure. Like her holy
founder, St. Francis de Sales, she studied the Divine Model,
she entered into his Heart, and she portrayed to the world in
her life and teachings that the secret of sanctity is none other
than to follow Him who is the " Way " in the path of his
will, in performing our least action in union with him, despoil-
ing ourselves of self, in order that the spirit of the Saviour
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774 A ViSITANDINE OF THE igTH CENTURY. [Mar.,
may animate us. Ske leads \is to an entire confidence in him,
and distrust of self, depending upon him every moment. Thus
all Christians have in these latter times a model of sanctity
for every-day life in this gentle exemplar of the sweet spirit
of St. Francis de Sales. How many associate with the idea
of sanctity those penitential rigors which few can support,
and yet all are called to sanctity, which, in reality, is noth-
ing else than the love and accomplishment of the divine will
in all the details of life. A perusal of her life, published
at 79 Rue de Vaugirard, Paris, will delight and edify all lovers
of sacred literature.
The good mother, as she was familiarly styled by her
contemporaries, was born in the little village of Sayhiferes, of
the diocese of BUle, Switzerland, on the loth of June, 1793. Her
parents were staunch confessors of the faith, concealing priests
who sought refuge during the horrors of the Revolution, their
home being a true sanctuary of Christian piety. Of the ten
children of Monsieur and Madame Chappuis, seven consecrated
themselves to the service of God. This devout family rose
every night to assist at the Mass which was said in a place
of concealment, and the little Teresa, then only four years
old, perceiving that something secret took place, and suspect-
ing that it pertained to the worship of God, begged to be
allowed to accompany the others. As she was prudent beyond
her years, this privilege was granted her, and at the elevation
she comprehended all, the good God revealing himself to her
soul in an ineffable manner. Later she was sent to complete
her education at the Convent of the Visitation at Fribourg,
Switzerland, and there the attraction she had felt from her
tenderest years for the things of God developed into a religious
vocation. But her affectionate heart, her attachment to her
native mountains, her sweet family ties caused a terrible strug-
gle between nature and grace, which lasted four years, remind-
ing one of St. Teresa's struggle, in which she declares her soul
seemed torn from her body, so that death itself could not have
cost her more than her effort to correspond to the voice of
God calling her to religion. Thus generous souls who are
destined to do great things for the divine honor are early
distinguished by the renunciation of self at a terrible cost, while
weaker souls must have the cup of sacrifice sweetened or dis-
guised under sensible consolations, else they would never have
courage to drain it. Too often such souls ascend Calvary
under the delusion of finding Tabor, and when they realize
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1898.] A ViSJTANDINE OF THE igTH CENTURY. 775
where they are, they cast aside the wood for the holocaust and
descend to the low valley of human comforts, frustrating for
ever the designs of Eternal Love.
Notwithstanding her great interior sufferings, our generous
Teresa Chappuis at length consummated her sacrifice by making
her religious profession in the monastery of thfc Visitation of
Fribourg. The victim, all through her long religious life, of
physical maladies, she became more and more conformable to
the likeness of her Crucified Spouse. Gifted with extraordinary
lights for the guidance of souls, her subsequent life proved her
divine mission to spread abroad the merits of the Saviour, and
to enable souls to profit by them.
Chosen for superior at Troyes, and later at Paris, these
privileged' houses saw the inspiration, birth, and progress of
those marvellous works of charity which have since been re-
vealed — works which in the four quarters of the globe are
making the Saviour personally 'known and loved.
She revealed to the Bishop of Fribourg the intimate com-
munications of the Saviour and the divine operations in her
soul, and his recommendation to her was to submit every-
thing to the church in the person of her confessors, and to this
advice the good mother faithfully adhered, even when obedience
was, morally speaking, almost impossible.
For thirty-five years the confessor of the convent was the
■ Abb6 Brisson, who is now the venerable superior-general of
the Oblates of St. Francis de Sales ; then he was an incredu-
lous young Levite, with an attraction for study and a zeal for
exterior good works tha.t gave him little inclination to remain
some hours every day listening to the recital which the good
mother made to him of the operations of God in her soul.
" Who will deliver me from this woman ? " he would sometimes
exclaim in the bitterness of his soul, and he did not conceal his
repugnance ; but the humble nun must needs obey, and con-
tinued her manifestations, in which, against his will, the young
confessor was destined to play so active a part. One day, at
Mass, he prayed that if these manifestations came from God, a
certain girl, a half *' natural," who would confess to him that day,
might recite passages he would select on going out from Mass.
He took down a volume of the Sutntna and wrote at random
three phrases, which he carefully placed in his pocket. On en-
tering the confessional, before making the sign of the cross, the
girl recited the phrases word for word, of which she knew
neither the pronunciation nor meaning. This and numerous
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^76 A VlSlTANDINE OF THE igTH CENTURY. [Mar.,
other marvels failed to satisfy him or cause him to yield that
co-operation in the works that our Lord desired of him. One^
morning the good mother assured him that he must no longer
oppose the will of God ; but
'' tJe that complies against his will
Is of the same opinion still,"
and feeling his liberty attacked, as he ingenuously relates in
his beautiful life of the good mother, he declared he would not
yield even if he saw the dead raised to life. Raising his eyes
in the heat of his vehemence, he saw our Saviour, and this
vision touched and softened his heart and will, which hence-
forth became all enamored of the divine will. The foundation
of a school and home for working-girls, whose faith and morals
are always so exposed, was one of the results of these divine
communications, and which developed into a congregation of
religious sisters, the first of whom received the habit from the
hands of Monseigneur Mermillod, when he desired to have a
colony of them in his diocese of Geneva.
These fervent sisters of St. Francis de Sales are interme-
diary between the cloister and the world, and devote themselves
to all kinds of exterior good works, leading at the same time
a life of close union with the Saviour. Of the working-girls
formed to piety in their first house over fifty entered various
religious communities.
Thus we see fulfilled by these daughters of the good mother
the first intention of St. Francis de Sales in founding the Visi-
tation, which, Recording to the designs of God, had developed
into a cloistered order, best calculated to preserve the traditions
and teachings of the sainted founders. But the mission of our
good mother to spread abroad the merits of the Sacred Heart
of the Man-God saw its fulfilment in the establishment of an
order of priests, the Institute of St. Francis de Sales, which
gives to God and the church truly apostolic men, who for
thirty years have, in various parts of the world, labored to
propagate the spirit and teaching of their great saint, and the
merits of the Saviour. The Annals SaUsiennes^ a monthly bulle-
tin published at Rue de Vaugirard, gives the most interesting
and edifying accounts of these works, their foreign missions,
their conquests of and in souls, proving their divine mission
more eloquently than words. They labor first at their own
sanctificalion by a union of their own souls with the Saviour,
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1898.] A ViSITANDlNE OF THE igTH CENTURY. JJJ
and hence their work in the souls of others bears marvellous
results. Their great glory is to practise the teachings of the
good mother, to profit by the lights she received so abundantly
for them.^ It was for them that she suffered and prayed and
received the divine communications for so many years before
and after their establishment. It was the predilection of her
heart, this great means of making the Saviour known and
loved ; and the rebellious young confessor, now full of years
and merits, was the corner-stone in this new and beautiful edi-
fice of the church militant, destined to grow and increase and
fulfil, shaH we say the prediction of the Abb6 Bougaud? — that
the true ^'devotion to the Sacred Heart," which means the
utilization of the merits of the Saviour, "will not reach the
acme of expansion until the twentieth century, when con-
summate evil will find its perfect remedy."
This chosen soul also co-operated with Monseigneur S^gur
in forming the Association of St. Francis de Sales for the
propagation of the faith, and through her influence the Roman
liturgy was introduced into the seminaries of Troyes, banishing
from the diocese the last vestige of GalUcanism.
Numerous congregations and confraternities are indebted,
either in their origin or progress, to the co-operation of Mother
de Sales, notably among them the Society of St. Vincent de
Paul, the Sisters of Bon Secours, the Little Sisters of the
Poor, etc., her universal, broad-minded charity being the re-
source of all the religious communities far and near, who un-
dertook nothing of importance without first consulting the good
mother, and if, as sometimes happened, God gave her no light
on the subject proposed, she would simply say, " I do not see,"
and nothing could induce her to give her opinion. On her death-
bed she said : " I can say with truth that I have never wished
to act of myself, but have always let our Saviour act in me ;
never doing anything but by his movement."
Notwithstanding the great numbers of all classes and dis-
tinctions that constantly had recourse to the lights and coun-
sels of the saintly soul, and the apostolic works which en-
gaged her attention, nothing diminished her devotion and zeal
for the perfection of the interior spirit of her own communities.
Gifted with a great capacity of mind and heart, with her en-
tire dependence upon the Saviour, she knew how to multiply
herself and find sufficient time for everything. Like her holy
founder, she was never hurried nor precipitate, never in advance
of grace in her dealings with others, but in all awaiting the
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778 A ViSJTANDJNE OF THE igTH CENTURY. [Mar.,
moments of the Lord. All her direction tended to the exact
fulfilment of the rule, according to the letter, but much more
according to the spirit. Each order in the church has a dis-
tinctive mission^ and consequently a peculiar spirit of its own.
Hence the sanctification of each individual in particular, and
of each community in general, depends upon the careful fulfil-
ment of its own vocation, according to the words of St. Paul,
" Let every man abide in the vocation wherein he is called."
However good a thing may be, if it is not in accordance with
one's vocation, it is contrary to the mind of the church, and
certainly not in conformity with the will of God. We see St.
John of the Cross inculcating this principle in the early Carmes,
urging them to follow their own peculiar spirit and not that of
other orders — good for them certainly. St. Francis de Sales
and St. Chantal strongly insist upon this fundamental principle,
clearly defining the peculiar spirit of the Visitation to be that
of sweetness, humility, and retirement, since it was instituted
" to give to God daughters of prayer, interior souls, who would
be found worthy of serving the Infinite Majesty in spirit and
in truth, who would have no other pretension than to glorify
God by their abasement," "to honor the hidden annihilated
life of the Saviour." Mother Mary de Sales had applied her-
self from her novitiate to the profound study of this spirit, and
possessing it in its plenitude, she possessed likewise the gift of
imparting it and making it loved. How she loved that spirit
of lowliness, so recommended by her holy father, and which
the Saviour did not disdain to follow during the whole course
of his mortal career! All her chapters and instructions tended
to the destruction of the spirit of self-exultation, to the consider-
ation of our nothingness. ''Souls who hold themselves as little
nothings will have no evil days ; they will walk in peace and
always be contented in the Lord," she was wont to say, and
her modest and humble demeanor, which was at the same time
so sweet and gracious, convinced all that she experienced in
herself the truth of her words. The very sight of her inspired
devotion, and even when a child the neighbors would say of
her " Let us go to look at the little saint of M. Chappuis."
She knew well how to spiritualize the least actions, saying
"there is nothing we have to do in which we cannot unite our-
selves to God." " My Saviour, lend me your merits for this
action ; of myself I can do nothing." She received special lights
with regard to that most necessary but material of duties pcira-^
formed in the refectory, our Lord showing her the graces he
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1898.] A ViSITANDINE OF THE igTH CENTURY. 779
bestows in this place, when the refection is taken with purity
of intention and in conformity with his will.
Her teachings, and above all her example of fervor, have
been, as it were, a tidal wave which has swept over the whole
Institute, reanimating souls to labor at their perfection by the
perfect observance of their rules, which is for them the divinely
appointed means of sanctification.
When the good mother was elected superior of Troyes, she
found that the work of the academy was not in accordance
with the retirement and recollection of the cloister, and consult-
ing our Lord, and referring to Annecy, to which, in deference
to the wishes of St. Francis de Sales, all the houses of the
Visitation owe a cordial dependence, she established certain
regulations which, consulting the true interests of the pension-
ers, retrenched their "goings out" to three times a year, cut.
ting off all that distracted them from their studies. This
caused considerable commotion among the friends of the aca-
demy, as the Visitation was much loved at Troyes, and the
daughters of the most distinguished families were educated
there. The superioress was charged with "indiscretion,"
" ignorance of French customs," " ruining the school." The
bishop was appealed to at a banquet by the Baroness of
, who declared she Would withdraw her daughters and
nieces from the academy rather than submit to such regu-
lations. But Bishop de Hons was a man of eminent spiritu-
ality, and had consented to these reformations, so in conform-
ity with the sacred obligations of these cloistered, religious
and with the spirit of God, however much at variance with hu-
man prudence. He regarded his religious as the chosen por-
tion of the flock of Jesus Christ, of which he must render a
severe account at the day of judgment, and he did not con-
sider it as the least of his duties to study their rules and their
distinctive spirit, that he might lead them " beside the still
waters " of their peculiar vocation.
The reopening of the school found only four pupils returned,
and this number did not increase for more than a decade of
years. But the good mother remained firm, and her commu*
nity, worthy of so holy a superior, never uttered a complaint
or made the least unfavorable reflection upon the cause of their
reduced school. " The kingdom of God and his justice for us
is our rule," said this enlightened woman, and the Saviour as-
sured her that the day would come when they could not find
accommodation for the numbers who, appreciating at last her
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78o A ViSITANDlNE OF THE igTH CENTURY. [Mar.,
manner of acting, would confide their daughters to her. This
was fulfilled to the letter, and up to the present day the Academy
of Troyes has averaged yearly from seventy to eighty pensioners,
who receive that refined and truly Christian education which
characterized the brilliant women of the " grand sifecle." Their
ihinds and best energies were not wasted upon the straining-
every-nerve process of so-called modern progress, which has not
yet and never will produce a St. Thomas Aquin, a Scotus, or
an Albertus Magnus. " And yet they held their place every-
where, these pupils of the Visitation," said M. Mermillod. Their
minds and characters were formed upon the highest Christian
ideals, and who can estimate the good which such souls are
calculated to do in the world as mothers of families? They
indeed spread abroad the sweet spirit of St. Francis de Sales
and the merits of the Saviour. A roll of their weekly literary
productions fell, by accident, into the hands of a man of let-
ters, M. Colin de Plancy, then Secretary of the Acad^mie de
la Haye, in Holland. He was delighted with them and pub-
lished them, to the great satisfaction of the readers of the
Netherland Review.
When a great age and greater infirmities rendered Mother
de Sales unable to walk, and the physician insisted that she
should take the air, a devoted friend presented her with a
donkey and little cart. This animal makes by no means a
small figure in the annals of the academy, his tricks and adven-
tures having given Madame S^gur the inspiration for her Strange
Adventures of a Donkey. He would sometimes run after a
wayward little one who had trespassed on forbidden grounds,
pick her up, shake her vigorously, and carry her back to her
mistress. He loved the children and willingly drew them in
the cart. Sometimes he would put his head in a class-room
window, where he usually received some sweetmeats. One
day the confection proved to be gum-drops, which stuck in
his teeth, causing him to make such grimaces as produced
more hilarity than was desirable during class, so that the
mistress unceremoniously chased the visitor away and closed
the window, whereupon the donkey maliciously closed the
shutters. One day, when the good mother had been absent
some time at Fribourg, a little one who delighted in teasing
the good-natured animal told him the good mother had re-
turned. Seeming to understand her, he trotted off to the side
door from which she was wont to emerge for her ride, and
not seeing the familiar form he at length walked sadly away.
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1898.] A ViSJTANDINE OF THE igTH CENTURY. 78 1
On being told of this incident the good mother said, " Ah ! we
must not even deceive an animal."
The children and grandchildren of the pensioners had a
special place in her great heart, and each was brought to her
to receive her blessing, and all that she said of it carefully
noted and regarded as a prediction, which was always even-
tually fulfilled.
Doctor Recamier had an entire confidence and veneration
for this saintly religious, making her, as it were, the protectress
of his patients and his family.
Among the many gifts with which God enriched his faithful
servant was that of prophesy, of foreseeing dangers and of ob-
taining by her prayers deliverance from them. Like St. Teresa,
she had a great love for the least ceremonies of the church,
and for the sacramentals — holy water, Agnus Dei, blessed
salt, relics, medals, and for everything that tends to the
divine honor, to pilgrimages, the saints, the souls in Purga-
tory, etc. But the great devotion of this elect soul was for
the sacred humanity and the adorable Person of the Saviour.
Pressed by him, she made many vows besides those of her
religious profession, and among these were to "cut short" all
thoughts not of the Saviour or for his glory, to do what
she knew to be most agreeable to him, and to love his good
pleasure. This was the ruling passion of her life. No matter
how painful events might be to nature, she immediately adored
in them the will of God. "As thou wilt, Lord. Since it
pleaseth thee, it pleaseth me," she exclaimed in sorrowful
occurrences. " To become a saint, we have only to say * yes '
to everything," and be "faithful to the grace of the present
moment," were her favorite maxims.
Shortly before her precious death two Oblate fathers bore
to Rome their rules and constitutions for the approbation of
the Holy Father. Monseigneur S^gur was there also in their
interest. On meeting them he exclaimed : " Oh ! you come for
Mother Mary de Sales, and nothing will resist you ; with her
one can obtain all." Cardinal Chigi was present and manifested
the liveliest interest in the new institute. "St. Francis de
Sales," he said, " is the saint of my family ; it was my uncle,
Alexander VIL, who canonized him." He knew the good
mother, whom he had met when nuncio at Paris, and he testi-
fied a true veneration for her. Pius IX. received the fathers
with much benevolence, examined minutely into their works,
the course of studies pursued in their colleges, and expressed
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782 Gethsemani. [Mar.
his entire satisfaction ; and within six months the rules and
constitutions received the desired approbation.
Seeing at last the accomplishment of her mission, the good
mother declared that her work was over ; and in efifect her end
was near, for after several months of extreme suffering she
yielded up her pure soul to God. After her death four sisters
were employed in touching the holy body with beads, pictures,
linen, etc., brought by the faithful for this purpose and which
they piously preserve as relics.
In the convent cemetery a simple cross marks the last rest-
ing-place of the good mother, with the following inscription :
"Our venerated Mother M. de Sales Chappuis, who died in
the odor of sanctity October 7, 1875, aged eighty-two years
and three months."
Terra-cotta statues of the seven angels who assist before
the throne of God stand round this humble tomb, the gift or
votive offering of those who have experienced her special pro-
tection, and commemorative of her devotion to these blessed
spirits. There Monseigneur Mermillod went to pray, and ob-
tained the conversion of an apostate priest ; and there favors
known and unknown have been obtained without number,
through the intercession of this humble Visitandine, "whose
good odor, in pleasing God, has overspread the hearts of the
faithful."
GETHSEMANI.
Y pain seems greater than my heart can bear.
Yet love greets suffering gladly, though it kill."
So Jesus in Gethsemani, in prayer
Drained deep the chalice of His Father's will.
Bert Martel.
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1898.] The Passion-Tree. 783
F?e efissiori-SFjee.
me, blessed, sorrowing Mother,
ath His Cross with thee ;
me in the lucent shadows
he mystic crimson Tree,
her from its dripping branches
r ripe fruits of mystery —
•y of love, sweet, cruel,
:h Jesus wrought for me.
nds and feet are pierced with nails,
brow with thorns is crowned,
es, through clouds of clotted blood,
\ heavily around.
rs with jeers and mockeries
Are tortured, till the sound
Drives in through all the quivering soul
In shrinking anguish bound.
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784 The Passion-Tree. [Mar.,
And who is He that suffers thus?
What evil hath He done,
That He should hang condemned and scorned
As a most guilty one :
Abandoned to such grief as that,
May be consoled by none? —
God's co-eternal, well-beloved,
And own and only Son !
Creation's God, the Lord so great, '
And yet so good is He
As other ne'er had power to grow ;
Loved us so passionately
He longed to die — for after death
Transpierced His heart would be.
To drench our lives in quenchless depths
Of love's infinity.
Justice Kath now her rights — nay, more
Than justly she demands ;
The sacrifice is Mercy's work.
Who brooks nor bounds nor bands.
His Mother, in her pity's strength.
By Jesus bravely stands.
Clasping Life's Tree that blood-dewed flowers
May blossom in her hands.
Her tears rain grace on Passion-flowers,
Love's blossoms, that will prove
Sweetest of all those living fruits
That we shall taste above.
When up life's glorious Passion-Tree
Our souls in labor move ;
Clinging to Christ through sufferings, reach
Heaven's summit of pure love.
?
And what do we return Him? Oh,
Sad tears of sympathy!
Our contrite hearts crave some small part
In blood-veiled mystery.
Sore-wounded doves; we'll nest to mourn
In the fragrant Passion-Tree,
Till love in death lifts joy's light wings.
And we fly in Christ's sun-life free!
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following.
In grieving wonder, dearest Lord,^
Our sad steps follow Thee
Along the track of crimson drops
That winds up Calvary.
Alas ! what burden bearest Thou
By such a dolorous way?
What sacrilegious hand hath dared
On Thee disgrace to lay ?
Our feeble hands have fashioned, Lord,
This shameful cross of Thine ;
Our weak hands woven cruel thorns
To press Thy brow divine.
And yet, forgive Thy children's wrong,
And draw them yet more near,
Until upon Thy throbbing heart
Love's sacred sighs they hear !
Contrition's tears their gems for Thee ;
Their prayers, contrition's flowers ;
Their little strengths, sweet Christ, with Thee
To share this Cross of ours.
Patiently, almost merrily —
Yes ; for Thou dost impart
Most sweetly to Thy Cross-bearers
The secret of Thy heart.
VOL, LXVI.— 50 ^
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786 A Study of the American [Mar.,
A STUDY OF THE AMERICAN TEMPERANCE
QUESTION.
REV. A. P. DOYLE, C.S.P.
N Studying methods of prevention the more
logical way is first to diagnose the disease.
Though drunkenness is known the world over,
yet it is attended in America with peculiarly
aggravating symptoms that make it a moral
disease so alarming in its character as to demand the considera-
tion of the best minds in order to devise remedial methods.
I take it for granted in this paper that there is a full appre-
ciation of the extent to which the vice of intemperance prevails
in the United States, so that I need not delay either to present
the abundant statistics that are at hand proving the virulent
character of the disease, or to quote statements from men of
light and leading who have made this matter the subject of
their closest study. We take it for granted, because the Church,
usually so conservative, has selected this vice for special con-
demnation and antagonism, that there is a great deal more
drunkenness than there should be.
The fact that intemperance in America assumes the pro-
portions of an almost distinctively national vice is due to the
active agency of various causes, among which three may be
selected for special mention.
NEURASTHENIA CONDUCES TO INTEMPERANCE.
First of all, there are exciting conditions in the American
climate and in the character of the American people which are
peculiarly conducive to intemperance. We are told by the
medical fraternity that neurasthenia is a peculiarly American
disease. As Cardinal SatoUi once put it, in a letter commending
total-abstinence work, in *' the exciting business life and the
sparkling, brilliant* atmosphere of ardent America " there is need
of special efforts to suppress intemperance. The bright flashing
skies, an atmosphere surcharged with electrical influences, the
eager strife for pre-eminence created by our peculiar commercial
relations, the enormous tempting fortunes within the grasp of
the stoutest runner, the anxious and worrying search for the
golden fleece leading to overwork and strained vitality — all
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combine to create a condition of physical nature that craves
for the stimulus of alcohol. The fast living of an electrical
age, as well as superheated houses, and the quantities of indiges-
tible food prepared by unskilful cooks and bolted withoit
sufficient mastication on the ten-minutes-for-lunch railroad
style, produces a dejected and a depleted physical vitality that
regularly demands the goad of the stimulant in order to keep
the pace that civilization sets for it. This rapid and unnatural
way of living, contrasting so unfavorably with the staid and
simple life among European nations, makes the use of alcohol
almost a necessity. People who live a perfectly natural life
out-of-doors, with plain, nutritious food, may awaken natural
energies sufficient for the demands that the daily routine cf
life makes on them, but the American people, with their over-
wrought nerves, must have the tightening of nerve-cords that
will keep vitality up to concert pitch ; so that, while other
nations wherein these conditions scarcely exist, or if they do
exist, exist in a small degree, may content themselves with
light wines and beers, Americans must have their stimulants
with forty, fifty, and sixty per cent, of alcohol in them.
ADULTERATION A CONTRIBUTING EFFECT.
Besides the aggravating tendency inherent in the American
climate and the character of the American people as here and
now constituted, there is a still further incitement to over-drink-
ing in the systematic adulteration that is openly and avowedly
followed. The art of aduUerating liquors has in this country
reached the precision of an exact science. While in every
other land there exists governmental inspection, securing a
pure, healthy drink, little or no attempt has been made in this
country to inspect and control the sources of the drink-supply
and maintain in purity the nation's beverages. Laws are made
to inspect the food that is eaten. The Dcpaitmcnt of Agricil-
ture has special charge of the cereals and food prcducts. The
various boards of health in every city in the countiy will,
with keen analysis, subject the water and milk used to [^the
closest scrutiny. As yet we have had no farrcachir-g ard
systematic endeavor made to maintain in their purity the wine?,
beers, or whiskies that are put on the market. But, on the
contrary, the intoxicating drinks of the people are, with an
ingenuity that might be saved for better purposes, adulterated
with many poisonous and deleterious substances — one to gi\e
it one quality, another to hasten the ehcmical charges that in
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the laboratory of nature can only be brought about by slow and
natural fermentations. So, as a result of all this, it is noticed
that the character of drunkenness in this country is different
from that noted elsewhere. In other countries too much drink
makes a man happy, it rejoices his heart, it awakes social quali-
ties, and when surfeited nature rolls under the table, it quietly
sleeps off the heavy potations; but in America over-stimulation
awakens the beast within a man. He seizes a knife to slay his
wife or he dashes his infant's brains out against a doorpost, or,
like a madman, he runs amuck through the streets of the city
until, captured by the police, he is put in the strait-jacket
or the padded cell until the wild-eyed delirium passes off.
THE AMERICAN SALOON.
But in all probability the greatest cause of intemperance in
America is, I do not say the saloon, but the peculiar character
of the American saloon. The American saloon with all its ac-
cessories and concomitants, including its peculiar political and
social power, the outcome of our political life with its manhood
suffrage, is a unique institution. It is quite true that liquor is
sold the world over, and every nation has its place where re-
freshments are dispensed, and these places differ as the charac^
teristics of nations differ, for I suppose there is no place where
human nature is so without disguise and free from restraints as
in the drinking-places of the world, and consequently no place
where the natural characteristics come out in stronger relief.
The gay Frenchman has his cabaret. The stolid yet domestic
German has his beer-garden, where he will gather with his
family and sit the hours through quaffing his lager. The
English have their gin-palaces ; the Italians their wine-shops.
In. the East is the khan.
It is related of a. great French explorer that, while pursuing
his discoveries in unknown countries, he leaped for joy when
he caught sight of a gallows, because to him it was a sign of
civilization. So the public house has been erected in all
civilized countries; but among them all the American saloon is
sui generis^ and there is a personality about the American
saloon-keeper that differentiates him from his cousin in any
other nation. His importance began with the era of large
cities. After the war a peculiar conjunction of circumstances
heaped the masses of the population together into cities.
Thousands of loose, unattached elements, who had no home-
life, but who had been accustomed to the wild scenes of camp
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and the roving excitement of a soldier's life, came home from
the battle-fields to earn a living for themselves. For them
the quiet country had no attraction. Simultaneously with this
set in the immense tide of immigration, when the growing
cities became a place of refuge for the oppressed of all
nations, too often a dumping-ground for outcast fpjigments of
European peoples, and a gathering-place very often for the
shiftless and criminal. The majestic city, with its immense
wealth and its opportunity for social enjoyments, also drew unto
itself all the health and vigor of the country.
At the same time reviving industries began to stimulate
this motley gathering to unwonted activity. The smoke of a
thousand factories seemed to darken the sky in a day, and
steady streams of ready money began to pour into the hands
of the toiler. Here was the wonderful spectacle that presented
itself during the past generation : a gathering of immense
masses of people, bringing with them the ideas and customs of
all races, huddled together in unsafe, untidy, and unhealthy
tenements, largely devoid of the responsibilities and sobering
influences of the family, and knowing little of the quiet and
retirement of home-life, and at the same time, through the
manhood suffrage guaranteed to them and the ballots put into
their hands, holding the reins of government, controlling the
sources of legislation and law, and ambitious to fill offices of
trust afnd power. The voting power the cities possessed was
so influential that it became the dominant factor in national
politics. The city political boss was the builder of party plat-
forms, and set in motion and controlled the machinery that
dominated the great movements of national politics. To be
.the local politician controlling votes, and to 6e able to deliver
the requisite number of ballots on election day, was a tempting,
at the same tinie a remunerative position.
AS A POLITICAL FACTOR.
To become such the saloon gave a man his opportunity.
Through it he could pander to the appetites of this motley
mass of urban population. It afforded him an easy way of
making money, and at the same time it gave him the chance
of controlling votes. It was a facile road to political prefer-
ment. As a consequence, ambitious, place-hunting men seized
this way of riding to mastery over their fellow-men. The
saloon often became the working-man's club. It was the centre
of the social life of the district. Its absolute freedom from all
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restraints made it the resting and lounging place of the home-
less. It possessed the peculiar advantages of an utter lack of
ethical standard, and this made it free to do as it wished
entirely regardless of the moral welfare of the nation or the
social well-being of the people. It consequently became the
germ-centre of lawlessness. While it debauched some of the
people with drunkenness and took from them that knowledge
necessary for an intelligent ballot, it snapped its fingers at the
law made for its restriction. Nothing was too sacred for it to
blight with its degrading influence ; the honor of the judiciary,
the efficiency of the executive as well as the integrity of the
legislature, went down before its threats or yielded to its fat
bribe or coercing mandate. It became the unscrupulous and
conscienceless tyrant of American politics.
Hence, the American saloon-keeper is a personality unique,
whose counterpart cannot be found in any other land under
the sun, and the saloon is not simply a legitimate agency for
satisfying the thirst of the people, as it is in other coun-
tries where drunkenness does not prevail, but its avowed pur-
pose in America is TO CREATE and foster that thirst. By
methods known to the business it deliberately sets out to get
people to drink. It makes itself the centre of social life; it
cultivates the habit of treating, with the tyrannical compulsion
to drink when one does not want to do so. By the political pull
the saloon-keeper has and by the office-brokerage he carries on
he holds his slaves within his grasp ; by salted drinks, of them-
selves provocative of thirst ; by a fierce competition due to the
over-multiplication of drinking-places, which brings it about that
there are more saloons than butchers, bakers, and grocers put to-
gether; and by a multitude of other ways, with ramifications in
and out of the life of the people, THE SALOON DEVELOPS A CRAV-
ING FOR ALCOHOLIC DRINK, and it is this unnatural and over-
stimulated thirst for intoxicants that is at the bottom of most of
the intemperance in the country. These, then, are the principal
agencies, with some minor contributing elements added to them,
which have created a condition of affairs in America that has
made the drink evil one of the most serious problems we have
to deal with in our civic as well as our spiritual life.
METHODS OF PREVENTION.
In order to cope with such rooted as well as wide-spread
evils, methods of prevention as well as of cure must be com-
mensurate with the disease. We can scarcely hope to change
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1898J TEAfPERANCE QUESTION. 79I
the nature of the American climate or the character of the
American people, or to completely eradicate the American
saloon, founded as it is in our political institutions ; still, condi-
tions may be placed that to a very large extent may neutralize
the agencies that tend to intoxication. Like the cure of
consumption, many remedies are suggested and different schools
of medicine have their own way of dealing with the disease.
New remedies are proposed every day, and, if we believe their
advocates, are " sure " cure every time ; but still consumption
exists and counts its victims by the thousands. So various
communities are at work applying what they deem a panacea
for the drink-plague. In New York it is the Raines bill; in
Pennsylvania, Brooks laws ; in St. Louis, Missouri law ; in
Maine and some other States prohibitive state enactments; in
South Carolina the Dispensary law ; in the West and else-
where high license is thought to be the remedy ; in still other
places local option is in favor, and in many others they say
the introduction of light beers and wines will replace the drink-
ing of ardent spirits. The constant agitation kept up in the
discussion of these problems and iil the enactment of these
laws has undoubtedly done a great deal of good.
As we look back over the history of temperance work during
the last fifty years, he who runs may see the onward and upward
trend of the movement. There has been a constant and steady
rising of the tide of public opinion. A half-century ago
drunkenness was considered but an amiable weakness, and for
the drunkard there was nothing but pity or sympathy ; to-day
it has been stripped of its false disguise and it is pilloried in
the open mart as a horrid and disgusting vice, and in place
of pity and sympathy the drunkard receives condemnation and
punishment. A generation ago the drunkard-maker moved in
the best society, his friendship was courted, he held the first
seats in the synagogue ; to-day there is none so poor to do
him honor; he is ostracized from the refined social circle, his
business is put under the ban, and even in the ordinary stan-
dards of legal morality it is surrounded with abundant safe-
guards, so that its evil-producing power is restrained as much
as possible. Time was when it was thought that alcoholic
drinks were a necessity for one's physical well-being ; now it
is known that the best health is compatible with total absten-
tion from intoxicating drink. Within our own remembrance it
was not dfeamed that the social circle could be enlivened
without the flowing bowl — it had its honored place on every
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792 A Study of the American [Man,
festive occasion ; now the advance wing of the temperance
body has debarred even the social glass. In the world of ideas
the energetic, determined, and advanced leaders of public
opinion in temperance matters are forging ahead, and close to
them hurries on a resolute band of followers, ready to accept
and defend the position the leaders carry by assault.
This progressive movement is primarily the result of the
educational work that has been going on during the last
generation.
Even the methods of warfare are changing. The temper-
ance sermon of twenty years ago was a realistic description of the
horrors of drunkenness ; to-day the world no longer wants to
be convinced that intemperance is a dreadful monster, ruining
families, destroying the peace of society, breeding vice, poverty,
and destitution, because it knows it only too well. It knows
now the disease and the extent of its ravages ; it wants to
know the best and most efficacious remedy. This is the great
problem to be solved. And as public conviction as to the
nature of the drink-plague has come through educational work,
so too the public will be persuaded of the best remedy through
that same educational work.
VALUE OF LEGAL ENACTMENT.
Undoubtedly the legal enactment has a distinct province in
the work of suppressing the drink-plague.
Many leaders in spiritual things, because they have considered
that they have had at hand an easy remedy for all or any
moral evil in the grace of God and the sacraments of the
church, have ignored the influence of the law in restraining
drunkenness — have held themselves aloof and have left the
legislators and the executive to their own devices, and as a
consequence have deprived the law of just that ethical influence
necessary for the attainment of its best results. They have
overlooked the fact that there are other sides to the temper-
ance question besides its moral side. As its evils are physical
as well as moral, as its ravages are sociological as well as spiri-
tual, as its effects are just as disastrous in this world as is
its soul-destruction in the next — so other remedies besides those
from the spiritual pharmacy of the church are to be applied to
the universally blighting evil, and other methods besides the
ordinary ministrations of the sacraments are necessary. In fact
the ordinary ministry of grace proves inoperative,* because in-
temperance in its last stages so destroys the natural man in
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his reason, his will, his physical fibre, that the spiritual forces
have nothing to take hold of or to do their work with. Drink
deprives a man of intelligence. With the spark of intellect
quenched what can grace do? Drink enslaves a man's will.
Without free will he is not a moral agent. Drink plants the
lowest animal desires in his heart. Without a God-fearing heart
how can grace supernaturalize ?
Moreover, the strong arm of the law is often absolutely ne-
cessary to cripple the agencies that antagonize the temperance
sentiment. The law, with a large proportion of our citizens who
have no authoritative moral teacher, is the only standard of mor-
ality, and therefore its condemnations can often render a thing
disreputable. The law can restrain the vicious and can take away
the stones of stumbling from the pathway of the weak. Though
it may not make a people sober and legislate drunkenness out
of existence, yet it can remove far from a man the temptation
to drink, and thus allow him of himself to sober up. It can
'cripple, and even entirely destroy, the agencies that make a
people drunk. The province of the law is to protect the weak
and keep the vultures from swooping down on those who have
fallen by the wayside.
A study of the wonderful mass of legislation that con-
cerned itself with the liquor question during the last fifty years
is like delving into a geological work, and as many curious spe-
cimens may be discovered there as a geological museum could
show forth.
LAW MUST BE BACKED UP BY PUBLIC SENTIMENT.
Legislation has undoubtedly failed to accomplish results
commensurate with the efforts put forth. And one reason why
legislators have not succeeded as they should, is because they
have forgotten that the source of intemperance is often within
a man, starting from springs of action that are not and cannot
be reached by any legislative enactments. Effective temperance
work, while the agencies that incite to drink may be crippled
by legal enactments — effective temperance work must originate
largely in influences that will reach into a man's soul and get
at the springs of his personal action. A bird flies with two
wings, a rower propels himself with both oars ; with one wing
or with one oar neither the bird nor the rower can make any
progress. So if temperance work is confined exclusively to
legislative enactments, or even to religious influences alone, fail-
ure will undoubtedly result.
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794 Temperance Question. [Mar.
In America the most potent weapon lies in the sentiment
of the people. Public opinion is America's god. It can do all
things, and nothing is hard or impossible to it. At its shrine
the greatest leaders bow down and adore. He who attempts
to antagonize it is baring his breast to the thunderbolt* he who
opposes it on him will it fall and crush him. Everything, then,
that feeds and strengthens public opinion in its condemnation
of the vice of intemperance is doing effectual work.
It is just on these Imes that the great Catholic movement
known as the Catholic Total Abstinence Union of America, is
doing its work. Politically it leaves its members free to follow
any stripe of temperance reform they choose. The country is
wide and different sentiments prevail in various places, and as
in the vegetable world what will grow in the South will not
grow in the North, and vice versUy so as all reform mast be
the outgrowth of local sentiment, the National Union says to
each and every one, " You may be what you want — prohibitionist,
local optionist. South Carolina dispensary man, or what not, but'
first, last, and all the time you must be a temperance man " ;
that is, while the public position is taken in opposition to all
agencies that foster intemperance, a private reformation of one's
own personal habits is needful.
So vigorously has the great Catholic Temperance movement
grown that, ii\ spite of the fact that it demands very high
and often heroic standards of its members, it stands to-day
as one of the greatest Catholic fraternal organizations in
America. It numbered at its last counting 77,254, having
added 21,841 new members in the last four years. It has
succeeded beyond all expectation, and its future is rich with
promise.
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••Was ever Suffering like unto this Suffering 1'
Christ at the Pt'Uar. Bernardino Luint,
THE SCOURGING AND THE CROWNING WITH
THORNS IN ART.
BY ELIZA ALLEN STARR.
^i HAT have I done to thee, O my people, or in
what have I grieved thee? Because for thy
sake I scourged Egypt with her first-born,
hast thou delivered me to be scourged?" is
the cry which comes to us in the Reproaches
chanted on Good Friday, the music of which has come down
to us from the fifth century. An exceeding bitter cry and one
which has found a response in every generous soul, every sym-
pathetic heart, from the first reading of the Gospel pages on
which it is said : " Then Pilate took Jesus and scourged him.*'
For there is an ignominy in scourging which has been resented
by the people of every civilized nation for their mariners
on the high seas ; an ignominy which the Roman governor
would not have dared to inflict on any freedman of his own
nation, which was held in reserve for slaves, and in after ag<s
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796 The Scourging and the [Mar.,
for Christians; yet it is this very scourging which our Lord
predicted for himself.
Th6 dull thud of the whip, its heavy leathern strands fall-
ing on the quivering ilesh, has sounded during the haIf*faour of
meditation through whole ranks of religious in their stalls on
the morning of Good Friday, all down these eighteen hun-
dred years; through adoring hearts that gather, as silently as
shadows, around the repository so soon to be dismantled, so
soon to be deprived of its one Guest on his way to his mysti-
cal crucifixion. Other sufferings of our Lord have appealed
almost altogether to the eye, but this one haunts the ear, as it
does the imagination, of every son of Adam, of every daughter
of Eve, on the mornfng of that day whose gloom no sunshine
can dispel.
We read that Peter and his companions were scourged at
the command of the council for preaching that ^^ Jesus is the
Christ " ; that Paul, " five times, received forty stripes save one,"
since in the law it was written : " Forty stripes he may give
him and not exceed ; lest if he should exceed, and beat him
above these with many stripes, thy brother should seem vile
unto thee." We do not read that Roman executioners limited
the stripes given to our Lord by any clause of the Old Law,
while traditions unite to prove that a scourging was given
cruel beyond the law, almost without measure, as if some
demon had instigated those who found the Wonder-worker, the
so-called King of the Jews, actually in their power. In fact,
from first to last, we realize, with every fresh reading of the
Gospel story, that each incident of his Passion had an excep-
tional cruelty, either for heart or soul or body, and this scourg-
ing has always been accounted without limit as to the number
or ruthless severity of the stripes save the fear of depriving
the cross of its prey. This tradition has been observed, and
held fast to, from the time that Christian art was free to assert
itself — free to illustrate the Sacred Text on convent walls or in
those illuminated missals in which deeply meditative souls could
venture to express their inspired convictions.
It is well known that the events of the Passion, even those
of the crucifixion, were omitted on the walls of subterranean
cemeteries. It was not until Christianity emerged from her
hiding places that the cross, blazing forth in all the splendor
of mosaic, gave the artist an inspiration to treat the subjects
connected with the Passion of our Lord; and even so, this
inspiration confined itself to the illuminating of the details of
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1898.] Crowning of Thorns in Art. 797
the Passion, as given in the Divine Office, in the parchment
folios which still make the treasury of renowned convents and
monastic centres in Europe; later on, to certain metal plates,
still to be seen at AixJa-Chapelle, and to ivories. It was not
until the Tuscan genius asserted itself, under the inspiration
given by St. Francis of Assisi, that we find the scenes in our
Lord's Passion taken up by series, as by Duccio of Siena for
the altar of the cathedral in that city, by Cimabue, and still
more notably by Giotto of Florence. It was on the walls of
the church of St. Francis of Assisi that Cimabue began and
Giotto finished a series of pictures representing the scenes in
the story of the Passion, bringing in the scourging of our
Lord ; and this, too, in a way to be deeply revered, giving
proof of the traditional treatment of this subject in the missals
and antiphonals. It is represented as taking place in the imme-
diate presence of Pilate, who is on the judgment seat with his
mailed attendants, while scribes and Pharisees and Saducees stand
opposite, witnessmg the administration of the sentence as our
Lord is tied to a pillar in the hall, his Sacred Face turned
toward us. A certain barbarity of action is almost precluded
by the circumstances under which the sentence is executed,
and with all its humiliating conditions our Lord is venerable
and worshipful under the cruel blows, while a look is made to
pass between him and one of his executioners which seems
almost to paralyze the arm uplifted to give the first blow.
Singularly, this very look is found in Fra Angelico's picture of
the scourging, although the surroundings are altogether differ-
ent. In this is no crowd, not even one cruelly fascinated spec-
tator. He is alone in the vast hall with the two flagellators,
and neither seems vicious, only obeying cruel orders, while the
Lord of heaven and earth stands with an ineffable calmness,
and the deep gashes tell the tale of the pitiless stripes by
which we are to be healed.
The famous picture of the Flagellation, in a chapel at the
right hand as one enters the church of San Pietro in Montorio^ in
Rome, was painted by Sebastian del Piembo, and its design is
generally ascribed to Michael Angelo ; although, had Michael
Angelo painted it, we may be certain it would have maintained
a hold on the imagination which it does not possess from the
hand of Piembo. A tradition is gathered from all the well-
accredited representations of our Lord in his sufferings, that
the Divine Face must not be concealed — that Face on which
all must look and read their weal or woe at their private as
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798 The Scourging and the [Mar.,
well as at the general judgment ; that Face, too, which is to
make for us the peculiar joy of the Beatific Vision. In the
example before us this Divine Face is concealed, as if he were
overwhelmed by the violence of the blows. Altogether, the
picture is degrading to the dignity of our Lord, whose deepest
humiliations certainly must not be allowed to make him in art
"a worm and no man." It is a misfortune that two such names
as Michael Angelo and Piembo should attract visitors who are
sure to be repelled by this picture, and many of whom may
regard this as an authorized type of the Flagellation.
But in that Lombard school, founded by Leonardo da Vinci,
over which his lofty but serene spirit seems ever to preside,
we can look for a perfect type of that most difficult of all the
scenes in our Lord's Passion to render according to its reali-
ties, for these realities belong not only to the manhood but to
the Godhead. Of all Leonardo's devoted pupils and ever-ad-
miring disciples none received his spirit so fully as Bernardino
Luini. Both may be said to have drunk from the same foun-
tain of eternal beauty, and the ** Divine Proportions," of which
Leonardo wrote so eloquently, taught with such enthusiasm,
became a part of Luini's heart as well as of his mind and was
one of the dominating forces of his imagination. Yet there
was a quality in the genius of Luini as individual as any in
that of Leonardo ; and this was sympathy, the coming in touch
with the most interior and subtle combinations of suffering ;
and Rio tells us that, while Leonardo was called to Milan in
its days of joy, Luini continued with the Milanese people in
their days and years of mourning, of bereavement — bereavement
by war and by pestilence; so that he was entreated to paint what
would comfort them under their multiplied and, during his life,
ever multiplying sorrows ; while this quality of his genius of
which we have spoken rendered him a true consoler, lifting them
above their own individual distresses to a region where they
could be mystical consolers to our Lord himself.
To the fulfilment of this task he may be said to have bent
himself with the best resources of his art as to its technique
and his aesthetic intuitions. Never has a tenderer, more sym-
pathetic hand delineated the sufferings, the sorrows, the inte-
rior desolations of Him who came to bear the iniquities of us
all in his own body, giving his cheek to the smiters, his flesh
to the scourgers. The moment chosen by Luini is not that of
the actual flagellation. Some one has said, that we should
never take in the actual torture of our Lord upon the Cross
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but for the vehemence of the Magdalene at his feet, or the
horrors of the Last Judgment by Orcagna, in the Campo Santo,
but for the angel cowering and hiding the sight of it from his
eyes. It is by this same delicate intuition that Luini makes
*'A Supremely Superhuman Patience."
Jesus Crowned with Thorns. Luini.
known to us the awful brutality inflicted upon the most sensi
tive, because the most perfectly organized, humanity of Him
who was not only holy but was holiness itself. Not one nerve had
been deadened by sensuality or hardened by selfishness. The
spirit of sacrifice quickened every sensibility, asking for no alle-
viation, yet pervaded by a calmness, an actual serenity which
would baffle our dull perceptions, but for those who surround
him. The column, from which he has not been altogether de-
tached, is streaming with blood, some drops only trickling over
the Body and over the linen cloth that wraps the loins ; the feet
slip on the blood that is on the base of the pillar, and the
drooping form, one arm only released from the ropes that
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8oo The Scourging and the [Man,
bound it, rests on the hands of one of the flagellators, while
the other minion fiercely tries to undo the coarse knots. The
marks on the Sacred Body cannot be called bloody, but livid,
and the beautiful head, turned fully toward us, sinks on his
own shoulder. It is exhaustion following unspeakable anguish,
the limp figure in its divine beauty dropping one hand until it
nearly touches the bloody bundle of twigs at his side. All
this shows the lassitude succeeding the sharp sufifering ; but at
his side stands St. Stephen, his first martyr, in his dalmatic,
with book and palm in one hand, the other e:3(tended toward
the Master, for whom he had himself suffered, saying, with
gesture and voice and the compassionate eyes, "Was ever
suffering like unJtP this suffering ! " And here is the key to the
picture.
In the near background are Roman guards ; but on the
right hand, opposite St. Stephen, is St. Catherine, one hand
with its palm resting on the wheel which is her symbol, the
other resting with gentle, womanly sympathy on the shoulder
of the aged donor of the picture, who, on his knees, his prayer-
beads in his hands, is contemplating the same Redeemer, com-
passionating the same sufferings, as St. Stephen, and the beauti-
ful face of St. Catherine shows the traces of tear» as if Faber's
lines were in her heart, when he says :
" While the fierce scourges fall
The Precious Blood still pleads ;
In front of Pilate's hall
He bleeds.
My Saviour bleeds!
Bleeds!"
As we read the story of the Passion in any of the Gospels,
we have not time to recover from the shock given by the mere
announcement of the scourging before another scene comes
before the eye, which instantly recalls that antiphon from one
of the most poetic offices of the Breviary : " Go forth, O ye
daughters of Sion, and behold King Solomon with the crown
wherewith his mother crowned him while she was making ready
a cross for her Saviour."
This crowning was not predicted, in so many words, by our
Lord, like the scourging, but it has been taken up by art in a
way to show how deeply this injury has affected the imagina-
tions of the people in every clime. Of all insults mockery is
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*• The Beauty of that Blood-stained Face is Ineffaceable."
Christ at the Column, Sodoma,
the hardest to bear. Malice, under a pretence of honoring, is
doubly cruel, and this malice showed itself in the Crowning
with Thorns with an intensity which may well be called dia-
bolical, but which has inspired both art and poesy to make
a reparation which has given not only masterpieces to the eyes,
but hymns that will breathe through countless ages a spirit as
consoling to the heart of our Lord as honorable to humanity.
The office of the Breviary* to which we have referred might
* The Roman Breviary, translated out of Latin into English by John, Marquess of Butei
K. T.
VOL. LXVI. — 51
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8o2 The Scourging and the [Mar.,
of itself inspire galleries of masterpieces, if it were ever read,
ever pondered upon, ever made familiar to the imaginations of
Christian artists. For all these subjects an atmosphere is want-
ing in our age, certainly in our country, which is necessary to
the manifestation of sentiments which spring from a super-
natural compassion. As we recall a miniature^ said to have
been painted on ivory by Guido Reni, and even if a copy cer-
tainly one to be coveted almost beyond price, the pictures in
print-shops of the so-called Guido Reni's Crowning with Thorns,
or Ecce Homo^ seem so vulgarized that we turn from them with
closed eyes, and never can we be guilty of placing them on
our walls or in our prayer-books. Yet, almost from the first
to the last of these representations, spite of certain barbarous
renderings of the subject in certain quarters, the most exquisite
delicacy of feeling has presided over Christian genius.
What we have said already of the representation of the scenes
in our Lord's Passion during the early Christian ages is true
of this scene ; but when Giotto painted it in the Arena Chapel
at Padua examples had not been wanting in conventual libra-
ries which guided him to a most reverential treatment of this
scene, which, like the scourging, is dwelt upon among the mys-
teries of the Rosary. The reality of the Godhead, as it stood
in the light of Giotto's faith, dominates his conception, and we
see our Lord with his hands not bound, the robe even gor-
geous in its texture, and the thorns of the crown delicate —
piercing, indeed, but not barbarously large. This feeling con-
cerning the crown of thorns prevails in the Italian schools^ and
especially in Fra Angelico's scenes of the Passion. In the one
representing our Lord wearing the bandage through which his
omniscient eyes still behold, as through gauze, the insulting
gestures of those who deride him, and set. him at naught, clad in
the purple robe, in his right hand the reed sceptre, in the left
the round world, the large cruciform nimbus encircling a majes-
tic head, perfectly according to the traditional type, and bear-
ing a crown of thorns, these thorns are as delicate as long
briars, setting their points into the head, not otherwise touch-
ing it. This may be called* an instance of extreme slightness
of the thorns ; but no one will accuse the Angelical of a lack
of sensibility to his Lord's sufferings. In truth the two figures
of unrivalled beauty, sitting on the steps of the improvised
throne, tell us how deeply the Angelical meditated upon the
♦ This picture was shown in nearly every city in the Union, with the hope that some opu-
lent Catholic would feel its value and purchase it of a family in distress — but in vain I
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injuries inflicted on our Lord in his Passion. One of these is
Saint Dominic in the habit of his order, the shaven head with
its nimbus, over which scintillates the star which marks him
in art, the index finger touching, with ineffable grace, the
chin, the eyes bent upon the unclasped tome on his knees, the
whole figure instinct with meditation ; the other is that of the
Mother of Sorrows, one hand touching her cheek, so plaintive,
so tender, the other just raising the fingers and palm towards
the Divine Victim of man's feeble malice, while she looks towards
us from the picture, as if asking for our sympathy — our sym-
pathy for Him, thus maltreated for our sakes ! The same crown
of thorns, under the hand of the Angelical, rests on the sacred
head upon the cross, the head bowed in death. Both pictures are
unsurpassed in their meditative grandeur as well as tenderness.
But we turn again to our Luini as the artist of the Passion,
and we find two pictures from his hands which would, of them-
selves, fill the rSle of treatment for the crowning of thorns.
The first gives the one drooping figure with his merciless exe-
cutioners. The hands are bound, yet one holds the reed sceptre.
One tormentor bears down the heavy crown with its thorns on
the unresisting head with his full force ; the other seems to have
paused, and looks intently, almost inquiringly, into the holy,
closed eyes of the patient sufferer, as if saying, ''Can this be
a mere man ? " while two other heads appear in the • back-
ground as if assisting in the bloody deed. The livid marks of
the scourging are still seen on the figure, which, from the
thorn-crowned head to the tips of the fingers, in the yielding
curves of the body expresses a supremely superhuman patience ;
the beautiful face self-contained under inexpressible anguish.
The second representation is a very large picture in the
Pinacoteca Ambrosiana^ Milan, and is divided, by pillars twined
with thorns, into three grand compartments. The side com-
partments give the members of the family or families of the
donor, and may be regarded as portraits ; all are kneeling, con-
templating the awful scene. Far in the background, to one
side, we see St. John meeting and telling the tragic story to
the heart-broken Mother, the almost frantic Magdalene, and
two other holy women in a . lovely landscape. On the other
side, the distance gives us a Roman soldier telling the story to
one who may be Simon of Cyrene, afterward to bear the
Lord's cross, and others, all interested, sympathizing, and
still another fair landscape makes a background. The mid-
dle and principal compartment is filled with a composition
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8o4 The Scourging and the [Man,
that lifts the imagination of the spectator above the actual
scene, which is still given with a realistic incisiveness that must
stamp it for ever on the memory. The architrave between the
Corinthian columns in front is left open to admit a tablet, on
which is inscribed Caput Regis gloria spinis coronatur ; while a
charming young angel on each side tells, with joyful gesture,
the glory of this crowning with thorns. From the inner archi-
trave directly below the tablet is suspended, by a single ring,
a curtain which extends to the column on each hand which
support th-is architrave, where it is fastened ; and against this
drapery, above which wave fair trees in the spring air, two
cherubs' heads, winged, not sorrowful but sweetly grave, plane
above the tragic scene below, investing the whole with that
strange play of heavenly light, of mysterious joy, an exultation
born of pain, which gives such a charm to the hymns, invita-
tory, and responses of the office for this '' Feast of the Coro-
nation of our Lord," celebrated as it is in red vestments.
Our. Lord himself is seated on an improvised throne with
step^, clad in the crimson robe, his hands bound with cords,
holding in one his mock sceptre. The crown of plaited thorns
is on his head, and two most cruel soldiers press it with all
their might on the bleeding brow, while two others mockingly
bend the knee, crying " Hail, King of the Jews! " Other soldiers
are seen with their military weapons raised aloft ; but under
the brutal pushing down of the thorns, with the insulting
mockery added to the anguish, and the array of soldiery, the Lord
of heaven and earth, he who made the world and determines
its times and seasons, sits unmoved ; the exquisitely beautiful
face, absolutely Godlike in its humanity, is turned fully toward
us, the tyts almost closed, and with those attributes which
make this representation of our Lord, alone in all the world,
in the least divide the honors of perfection with that by
Leonardo in the Last Supper. It is as if compassion for the
creatures he has made had overcome his sense of their ingrati-
tude, and we feel that the ejaculation on the cross, '' Father,
forgive them, for they know not what they do," is in his divine
heart if not on his sacred lips.
While this grand coronation, by Luini — embodying, as it
does, all the realistic cruelty, all the injurious mockery of the
actual Crowning with Thorns, voicing the praises of men
and of angels, the glorification of the ignominy, the salvation
wrought by humiliations — must be regarded as the one master-
piece of the world representing this mystery, there are two
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H
2 o
Kj O
3 X
^ PJ
5 o
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8o6 The Scourging and the Crowning of Thorns. [Mar.
pictures which demand our special mention : the Ecce Homo
by Overbeck and " The Christ at the Column " by Sodoma.
The first of these, by Overbeck, makes one of that magnifi-
cent set of " Forty Illustrations of the Four Gospels " which
might, of itself, immortalize this greatest artist of our own
century. Two soldiers are leading our Lord forward on the
balcony from which Pilate shows him to the crowd below,
howling their welcome like hungry wolves as Pilate exclaims,
"Behold the man!" Their cries can be heard from the
picture, but our Lord's step is as firm as when he walked the
stormy. waves of Gennesareth. One soldier, with a heavy club,
carries the end of a rope tied around our Lord's neck, the
other hands him the sceptre of reed, which he accepts without
a gesture, while the other hand of the soldier with a pair of
heavy pincers fastens, still more securely, the crown of thorns
on the sacred head. The eyes of the Holy One are cast down-
ward, but not closed ; there is no blood anywhere, but pride
dies out of the heart that meditates upon Overbeck's Ecce
Homo,
In the picture by Sodoma, although it is entitled "The Christ
at the Pillar," we see our Lord crowned with thorns, jagged
and sharp. Blood from the cruel scourging is on the body ;
blood trickles from the thorny crown, drips on the shoulders, and
bloody tears overflow the open eyes — open and looking out on
the awful sin of the world which he is still to expiate on the
cross. No other picture we can recall has a certain desolation
in it like this by Sodoma, of that deeply meditative, tenderly
compassionate school of Siena. The Christ-type is perfectly
preserved, the beauty of that blood-stained face is ineffaceable;
but we see the thirst, even before he ascends the tree of the
cross, in the parted lips, and the cry of David in the heat of
the battle with the Philistines comes to mind : " Oh, that some
man would bring me water from the cistern of Bethlehem
which is at the gate ! " Yet we know that, like the cup of
water brought to David, it would have been spilled on the
ground. Thus we have, in this wonderfully inspired figure of
our Lord, his scourging, his crowning with thorns, and his
thirst. There is a look, too, which appeals not only to one's
compassion but to one's faith ; and we shall never forget what
was said of it by one whose faith was more of the heart than
of the head : " No argument for our Lord's divinity has ever
done so much to convince me that he was truly both God and
man as this picture by Sodoma of Siena."
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The Flagellation. /. /. Tissot,
By courtesy of BayarCs Monthly Visitor Co.
James Tissot is the great French artist whose " Life of Christ " in painting commanded
the unqualified praise of the artistic world when first exhibited in 1894, in the Salon of the
Champ-de-Mars.
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8o8 Quid Sunt Plagae jstae in [Mar.,
^uib Sunt plagae iatae in mebio HDanuum ZTuarum?
— Zach. XIII. 6.
BY F. W. GREY.
HAT are these Wounds in those dear Hands
of Thine?
Lord of my love, who thus hath wounded
Thee?
Whose hand hath nailed Thee to the
bitter Tree^
Or wove the thorns that round Thy Brow entwine?
What answer falls from those pale Lips Divine?
" The wounds wherewith My friends have
wounded Me,
Those whom I loved the most ; behold, and see
If there be any sorrow like to Mine,"
Whence came Thy Wounds, O Lord? My sins
have driven
Deeper the nails that pierced Thy Hands and Feet,
Mine was the spear by which Thy Side was riven,
That made Thy wondrous Sacrifice complete:
What may I do, but give Thee, as is meet,
• The life for which Thy Sacred Life was given ?
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1898.1
MEDIO MaNUUM TUARUMf
809
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8io The Diary of Master William Silence. [Mar.,
"THE DIARY OF MASTER WILLIAM SILENCE."*
BY REV. GEORGE McDERMOT, C.S.P.
HE work which bears the title at the head of
this article is, in some respects, the most re-
markable study of Shakspere that has appeared.
It purports to be the diary of an English
country gentleman who tells the story of life
in his home and his amusements in the iield ; but the materials
are taken from passages in the poems and plays controlled or
illustrated by writers on field sports who lived in Shakspere's
own time, and by more recent writers who have made them a
special pursuit. Judge Madden, though a great chancery lawyer,
was, and still is, so essentially a hunting man that he contrived,
notwithstanding a practice at the bar which would seem to
leave little opportunity for other studies, to make himself ac-
quainted with the allusions in Shakspere to hunting, hawking,
coursing, the forming of packs of hounds with reference to spe-
cial purposes, and the training of the varieties of hawks to
strike the peculiar game of each. The minute and exhaustive
information is made as interesting as a novel. We enjoy the
pleasure of vivid conception of men and things in the form in
which the work is cast. It is a diary kept by a young barris-
ter whose name, as' an Oxford student, we find in Justice Shal-
low's greeting of his cousin Silence : f " I dare say my Cousin
William is become a good scholar," for in those days all who
could count descent from a common ancestor, even though
they had to go back to Adam — as Prince Hal says — were a
man's cousins. Then in England each one of the name was
the poor cousin of the great man of the place, as in Scotland
and Ireland every clansman was related to the chief and as good
a gentleman as he, though in the intervals of hostings and wars
he ploughed, tinkered, or made shoes for man and horse. Fussy,
pompous, and rather incoherent, then, as Shallow was, he had
one clear and compelling principle which could only belong to
an ancient gentleman, a pride in and affection for his own
blood on the male or female side. However remote, it was
possibly ''inheritable blood," in the technical English of black-
letter law, under the description of "right heirs " on the failure
♦ By the Right Hon. D. H. Madden, Vice-Chancellor of the University of Dublin. New
York and London : Longmans, Green & Co. f Henry IV., Part ii. act iii.
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1898.] The Diary of Master William Silence. 811
of heirs of limitation ; so that the small yeoman, Greenfiefa,'
who wore hobnailed shoes and pulled the devil by the tail on
that outlying farm of sour land called Little Marsham, might
by some curious turn of the wheel become lord of the manor
and wear velvet, owing to his descent from one Reginald de
Grandville, who had spurred by the Conqueror's side over the
downs of Hastings.
A PERFECT REPRODUCTION OF ELIZABETHAN COUNTRY LIFE,
In Judge Madden's work we are back in the reign of Eliza-
beth. His perfect knowledge of social conditions, coupled with
the gift of historical intuition which he possesses in a degree
that would have placed him on the same bench with Gibbon
or Thierry if he had employed himself in their pursuits, enables
him to put the reader in the midst of the country life of a
time when the term ** merrie England " had not yet lost all
meaning. We can form some slight judgment of this know-
ledge and the power of using it; and we venture to say that
the autobiography of William Silence is full of the life which
Shakspere lived or witnessed around him in his early days, to
enjoy a breath of which he went, later on, year after year to
his native place, and amid whose scenes and influences he closed
his eyes at last. We -do not think that any confirmation of
this opinion is needed, but for all that we may inform the
reader that the " proofs " of the work before publication were
read by Dr. Ingram and Dr. Dowden ; still we venture to say that
both of those great scholars would admit that at least in the
archaeology of English sport — stag-hunting, fox-hunting, falcon-
ry, the management of dogs of chase, and the technical educa-
tion of haggard or eyas — scattered through the works of Shak-
spere they could have learned something from him. It has been
said to us that Skeat will have to amend his meanings owing
to this book; and we even go the length of saying that Sir
Walter Scott's knowledge of these sports — particularly hawking
— and of much that belonged to rural life bears to Mr.
Madden's something of the comparison which the general
and unprecise knowledge of an able man who has not pursued
a study with analytic insight bears to that of a specialist who
has taken every part of a subject to pieces and reconstructed
it in accordance with scientific principles.
HISTORY AS A BASIS FOR SOCIOLOGY.
Whoever desires to know something worth knowing of social
science is bound to look to successive stages of life as well as
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8 12 The Diary of Master William Silence. [Mar.,
to contemporary differences. On the surface such a work as
the one before us would warn off the host of ambitious men
who ask in connection with every study, " Is there money in
it ? " which is the equivalent of the older form, " To what does
it lead ? " We have no intention of answering this question —
we understand men going to the bar ask it about classics and
mathematics in connection with the study of law ; but, rightly
or wrongly, we are stunned by the clamorous energy of men
pursuing a phase of what is called the science of sociology.
We say to them — and they number tens of thousands in this
country — that the sociology which confines itself to economics
without regard to the individual and family, and to statistics of
contemporary phenomena arbitrarily classified, can have no re-
sult. We say that the only science that will lead to anything is
that of the comparison of social and political systems in their ef-
fects, and that for such a comparison the social life of any one
period is a valua]:>le chapter, and we have this in the work before
us. We are not speaking in the air; we are not, on the other
hand, stating a commonplace. The inutility of historical studies
in relation to social science was almost baldly insisted upon in a
correspondence with us by a man of distinction in this country
in that department of learning. We are quite sure he repre-
sents the prevailing opinion of sociologists on the point, and
we shrewdly suspect that those who might say our observations
in support of the opposite view amount only to a commonplace,
would say so simply because they cannot escape from their
force. This is one aspect of the value of this book; there is
another to which we shall refer later on, namely, the light it
lets in on thousands of passages which professed Shaksperean
students did not understand, on many passages that commen-
tators tried to mangle into meaning. It puts Shakspere him-
self in a place before us that few indeed had appreciated.
Fancy the author of " Lear " and " Hamlet " crying " Hunt up !
The hunt is up I " or, as we should say in the case of a fox,
"Stole away!" Fancy him running with the perfect confidence
(because " Bellmouth " gave tongue) with which knowing fellows
to-day keep their eyes on the huntsman, rather than the master,
as on a guide to the death. Our author mounts the stranger
on a pony such as Irish hobblers rode, a variety which seems
to have been as much desired in England as were casts of Irish
hawks. Our own idea would have been to make the divine
William follow the hunt on " shank's mare," like so many good
fellows of harrow fortune, with the aid of a long pole to
leap hedges or help in climbing a steep place, the latter offering
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a short cut that crossed the segment of the hunt ; but be this
as it may, we find the stranger knew all about hunting, loved
the cry of the hounds, the shouting of the countrymen, the
clever handling of good bits of horse-flesh by the farmers, who
thereby hoped to attract purchasers, the vanities and eccen-
tricities of dandies from town and 'varsity, the "bull-riding"
of titled fools, with more blood than brains, at walls as high
as a church or at double banks like mountains, and so hedged
that not even a wren could get through ; the steady steering
by old hands on clever hunters doing everything without seem-
ing to do anything — how Shakspere must have enjoyed it all,
and yet he drew Shylock!
SHAKSPERE AS A GUIDE TO THE STUDY OF SOCIETY.
However, as we have been saying, there is value in the
exact picture of social life, and inestimable value to the criti-
cal student of literature in the aid this work affords to his see-
ing thoughts hitherto folded in an unknown tongue. We think
there can be no serious question as to the second proposition;
we hint a reason in addition to those already suggested to
support the first. There was unquestionably at the time in
which Shakspere lived a far greater pressure on the artisan and
laboring classes than in the corresponding period of the previ-
ous century. It required four times the number of days' em-
ployment in the later era than in the earlier for a tradesman
or agricultural laborer to earn subsistence sufficient to maintain
him for the year. Still, life, as reflected in the plays, was upon
the whole easy for those classes ; and Judge Madden's work
gives body to this opinion. No doubt a pamphlet appeared in
1 581, which was universally attributed to Shakspere,^ from which
it would seem that a life of sordid poverty such as the last
and the present century exhibit as the lot of a large proportion
of those classes was the life of the village tradesman and the
laborer then. Apart from the consideration that comfort is a
relative term, we are of opinion that the pamphlet dealt with
strongly-marked phenomena of a transition period and not
with the social fabric as a whole. There is evidence of general
comfort in the work before us, and it does not require special
insight to perceive that it can be relied upon. We have evi-
dence that in the country the orders of society melted into
each other financially, though the distinction of rank was ob-
served by custom as well as recognia^ed in legal documents.
There was, over and above all subordinate distinctions of rank,
•We now know that the author was William Stafford.
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8 14 The Diary of Master William Silence. [Mar.,
the broad gap that separated the man of gentle birth entitled
to wear coat-armor from all below him, however rich ; but in
the sports of the field all were united with a heartiness of sym-
pathy which, for the time, effaced distinctions so far as certain
usages and practical good sense permitted.
THE SOCIAL SIDE OF SPORTS.
After a hunt, the lord of the manor or the master enter-
tained yeoman and farmer, village shopkeeper and tradesman,
as well as esquire and gentleman ;^ but the former sat below
the salt. Our author in referring to the messes, as they were
called, supplied to those wlio sat below the salt, slyly asks :
Is that the origin of the term '^ masses " as contrasted with
'' classes " which a distinguished statesman is so fond of using ?
We think not, for it strikes us the gentleman in question is
more familiar with the Heroic age of Greece than the Eliza-
bethan age. But passing from the social aspect presented by the
book, we think it beyond anything we have seen in its instruc-
tive and charming way of converting dry-as- dust information
into a chapter of polite letters.
It interprets' allusions apparently of no value in their place
in such a way that they are searchrlights into character. Shak-
spere is seen through them in a manner which Macaulay's fine
turn of imagination did not enable him to seize to the full
extent. Anachronisms and solecisms which Macaulay truly re-
garded as immaterial, because truth to nature was never violated,
are explained by what we have set before us in this work,
namely, the exclusive and intense sense of English and England
which dominated Shakspere. He was English to the very core,
not London English, but the English of the woods and fields, of
the small town and the squire's " peculiar " river, of the manor-
house and the deer park, the yeoman's gabled front, the moor
and the mountain. Every change of sky was upon him, and its
influence followed him to Troy in the twilight of the world.
The sea which Edgar saw so far below the cliff of Dover was
that which he made wash lands remote from any sea.
shakspere's nature studies.
Every one has recognized Shakspere's love of external nature,
but indirectly as accessory to the play of character. Criticism
has expended itself on the world within him, which revealed it-
self in the countless forms of wisdom and folly which take life
*The esquire was of higher rank than the gentleman, though the quality of gentleman
was an heraldic attribute which each one who bore arms possessed in common with the king.
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1898.] The Diary of Master William Silence. 815
in his men and women. In the shades of folly, from Cloten's
upward to something that is almost more appreciative in in-
sight than intellect itself — to that of Lear's fool and that of
Touchstone; in the shades of wisdom, descending from the
supreme majesty of Henry V.'s knowledge of man and society,
down to lago's craft in the small affairs of his own interest,
students of Shakspere have followed him with discernment ;
but somehow they seem to have missed the key to that nature
which is the informing spirit of all his creations. Almost no
one, with the exception of Professor Dowden, has seen him in his
creations except in the vague way that every one knows that
something of the author must be in what he shapes. All the
moods of fantasy, passion, suffering by which man recognizes
man, mocks him, laughs with him, feels for him, hates him, are
seen in those creations as they would be seen in real life, but
never with full knowledge of the shaping influence which im-
presses the stamp of a complete and rounded life on each.
Mental health is the all-pervading character of his conceptions.
Hamlet would be a madman, pure and unmixed, with Goethe ;
Armado would be a conceit more stupid than Sir Percy Shaf-
ton, despite Scott's genius, if that great author had attempted to
body forth the euphuist whom Holofernes so well described.
Could any one else have made out of Mercutio anything but a
harebrained buffoon, instead of the thorough gentleman he is?
Whence is this strong, solid, underlying common sense ? . We
think our author has found one spring of it, and that a con-
siderable one, in Shakspere's ample, large-hearted enjoyment of
country life in his early days. A sportsman and an Irish gen-
tleman as well as a scholar. Judge Madden has used the
divining-rod to the purpose, as we shall show by-and-by, in the
contrast between Ben Jonson, the other contemporaries of
Shakspere, and Shakspere himself, in their references to hunt-
ing and hawking — to the whole realm of rural life in fact.
Those were not free of the forest, they were wanderers on hill
and glade without woodcraft ; or perhaps they only saw the
moonlight and the dawn, the rising sun and the dew, in books ;
and thought ideation of reflex images the magic by which real
landscapes, written by ten thousand associations on the heart,
became idealized in the fancy. Our meaning may be taken
from an instance : a copse between a thick wood and tillage
land would suggest to Shakspere, along with other association?,
the haunt of a stag of ten-; to Massinger it would mean no
more than part of the possessions of Sir Giles Overreach. The
brake at the end of a lake, into which or from which the little
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8i6 The Diary of Master William Silence. [Mar.,
river flowed, with sallows and willows on the bank and a
gnarled oak here, a hawthorn there, would give hint to him of
a heron fishing in the reeds beyond the junction of lake and
river, as surely as it would make a fowler think of wild ducks
and a frosty night to watch, while lying gun in hand. Such a
scene would not speak with a voice like this to Marlowe or
Jonson, Peele or Greene, though it would have some other
music for them no doubt — as, say, to Marlowe it might recall
" — the sad presaging raven that tolls
The sick man's passport in her hollow beak."
But to the divine William of our author it might be the
'^ bottoms " from the upland of the park where Olivia's manor-
^ouse stood; or the part of his demesne which Shallow could
then honestly say was '' barren "; though nowadays we find
such land good feeding for bullocks and young horses, if there
be a long stretch by the lake and river — or it might be a scene
on the line of an army's march to fight for a crown, or a
thousand other scones, but certainly it would form part of the
ground over which the Lord, who beguiled poor drunken rascal
Sly, hunted to the music of his well-matched, tuneful pack.
THE CHARACTER CREATION OF MASTER SILENCE.
All we know of William Silence is found in the quotation
cited from Justice Shallow, and the idea suggested in his next
remark, that William would soon be going to the Inns of Court.
From this shadow our author has created a character in the
mould and form of the time, who is the central figure of many
characters, more or less strongly pointed, drawn from the plays.
The flesh to make the shadow William Silence a man may
have been taken from the young bloods who figure so finely
in the plays — Mercutio, Benedick, Orlando, Lucentio, and many
more, with a dash from that admirable drawing by suggestion.
Master Fenton of the " Merry Wives." Three or four hints
enable us to know something about this last-named gentleman,
and make us desire to know a good deal more. He was one
of the set belonging to the wild Prince, and Poins, a fellow of
spirit whose honor had stood the test of Falstaff, the most cor-
rupting influence that has ever been near a young man. This
Falstaff was a devil, "haunting" his young companions "in
the likeness of a fat old man " — not respected indeed, but
surely as much loved by them as the author and others have
loved a genial and gifted one gone from amongst us, one upon
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whose forehead genius had set its seal, and upon whose words
used to hang with rapture the two most accomplished audiences
of the world — the Bar of Ireland and the Commons of the
United Kingdom. Such memories are too sad.
For the young man destined for the Bar a career was open
in Ireland, and our author makes the romance of William
Silence's marriage turn upon this fact. Lawyers skilful in pre-
cedents could advance the interests of the Crown and their
own against the titles of the ancient Irish and those Irish who
were called the old English. The civilized process of discover,
ing defects in titles was often as effectual as driving one of the
ancient Irish to rebel in order to have an excuse for confisca-
tion. If O'Neil rebels — said Elizabeth — there shall be estates
for my subjects that lack. That was one method. The sys-
tem which found that proprietors had no sufficient title against
the Crown was another; and it was by being an instrument of
such a method that Master Petre hoped his prot/g/, William
Silence, would maintain a wife. This Petre in the Diary is an
old acquaintance whom we knew as Petruchio. At one time
he must have played the part of a Veronese gentleman, if Wil-
Ham Shakspere may be trusted. It is more than hinted that
Shakspere was on a visit in the neighborhood — where Justice
Shallow ruled in his fussy, self-important way — and took his
part in the country sports to which, as lord of the manor,
Shallow gave the lead. The stag-hounds were the Justice's, and
the lands over which they pursued their quarry. Among the
notables at the hunt was Petre, and he came some way to know
a plainly dressed youag man whose face and figure and man-
ners were so much above his appearance as to attract his at-
tention. It may be inferred that the loud-talking, unconven-
tional Master Petre told this exceptionally intelligent stranger
of his days abroad, when he sowed his wild oats and bewildered
citizens of Padua by devil-may-care ways, more like those of a
soldier of fortune than a great country gentleman. The only
conflict between what is told in the brochure of the time pub-
lished under the title " The Taming of the Shrew " and the
Diary is that the latter seems to make the Katharine of the
former the Lady Catherine Petre, daughter of an English ear),
seemingly, instead of '* a rich gentleman of Padua." However,
this may be explained by Shakspere's not wishing to reveal too
much. The two accounts may be reconciled by the supposition
that Petre met Lady Catherine abroad, that her father had been
compromised in some of the plots against the Queen, and, as an
VOL. Lxvi.— 52
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8i8 The Diary of Master William Silence. [Mar.,
English Catholic of high rank, a sufferer for the faith, was gladly
received into a wealthy Italian family. Even if he had been
attainted, ^' the courtesy of England," in the social not the legal
meaning of the phrase, would have still accorded the style of
Lady Catherine despite the corruption of blood worked by the
attainder.* Indeed, in any sense she would be only a Lady
Catherine by *' courtesy," as all the sons of a duke or marquess
are lords " by courtesy "; but passing from that we find her
aiding her husband to bring about the marriage of Anne Squeele
and William Silence, and defeat our Justice's intention of mar-
rying her to his nephew, Abraham Slender, who figures so no-
tably as the admirer of "sweet Anne Page" in another souve-
nir of Elizabethan manners known to the unlearned and Mr.
Donnelly as " The Merry Wives of Windson" There is an op-
portunity for this in a hawking expedition from Petre Manor
the day after the Justice's hunt. Our friend Petrc's language
is so made up of the technique of falconry that he described
his successful wooing of Lady Catherine, to the great indigna-
tion of that lady, as the manning of a haggard. We fancy his
explanation lame, though his wife accepted it, and we suppose
the bystanders in the courtyard, before the unhooding of the
hawks, thought it satisfactory ; it was to the effect that as the
haggard when reclaimed made the best falcon, so the spirited
maiden when disciplined to the lure made the most obedient wife.
shakspere's detailed knowledge of falconry shown in
A single phrase.
Really we see in our author how unique was Shakspere's
knowledge of falconry. We see it not merely by contrast with
his contemporaries, but even Scott, with his exceptional gifts
of imagination and antiquarian insight, blunders in the very
matter before us — the selection and training of falcons. As to
the other imaginative writers who introduce hawking as a sport,
we dismiss them with the summary statement that in using
terms of art they rely on the ignorance of the readers. The
point of Master Petre's compliment to his wife may be gathered
from the simple fact that the eyas could never be nurtured and
trained so as to achieve the splendid flights and strikes of the
reclaimed haggard or wild falcon. Read this into the actor's
* It may be well to make our meaning plainer to the general reader. " The courtesy of
England " means the right to a life estate in the lands of his wife acquired by a hu&band on
the birth of an heir; there are many illustrations of the other courtesy, at least in Ire-
land. Lord Westmeath's title of Riverstown may be taken as one. His father was always
addressed as Lord Riverstown, thouf^h it was a forfeited title.
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account in " Hamlet," * for his having to stroll for an audience :
**An aery of children, little eyases, that cry out on the top of
question, and are most tyrannically clapped for 't/' This may
be the fashion of the hour, but though houses are drawn, the
children afford scant hope of future excellence. This is the
thought running through the complaint, and Master Petre in
his wild way meant, if you would have a hawk at once high-
spirited, loving, and tractable, you must man and train a hag-
gard. Consequently Bianca, who was an eyas as compared to
Catherine, began at the first moment of his lordship over her
to disregard her husband's messages.f
At the hawking we meet acquaintances, as we meet , them
at the Justice's great hunt : Clement Parkes of the Hill, the
sturdy yeoman, against whom Davy favored the knavish Wil-
liam Visor — 2d act " Henry IV." — we meet Squeele, who was
clearly what we now would call a gentleman-farmer, and
learn from the Diary that he had a daughter Anne, but of her
anon. We need not speak of Petre or his reclaimed haggard,
or of the pompous, overweening magnifico, the Shallow of the
** Merry Wives," into whom the fussy, bragging, thin-witted
master of Davy blossomed from the time he had lent Falstaff
the thousand pounds. Squeele was one of those who heard the
chimes at midnight with Shallow when the *latter was at
Clement's Inn and a rakehelly fellow, as he would want us think.
We need say no more of Abraham Slender except that he was
again disappointed by the flight of the lady whom he would
marry on request — he would do a greater thing on his cousin's
request — but simply observe that the heron was raised and the
hawks soared, and the party galloped, ran, and shouted, and
William Silence and Anne Squeele went off, as on another
occasion Master Fenton and " sweet Anne Page " had done. •
THE ATMOSPHERE AND COLORING OF JUDGE MADDEN'S BOOK.
The richness of coloring in the book is like an autumn in
England before the red leaves have taken full possession, while
still there are all the shades <^f green living in the walls and
solemn arches of the woods, It is fresh as the blue sky of
late September or the first days of October, when white clouds
here and there serve as platforms to measure the immeasurable
height. The air is bracing, and the green turnip-tops, amid
*»• Hamlet," ii. 2.
flf Scott had known the waste of time in training eyases, we think he would not
have made Adam Woodcock employ himself altogether with them, instead of showing what
he could do to bring a haggard to fist.
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820 The Diary of Master William Silence. [Mar.
which a great hart had ravaged the night before the hunt tell
us that growth has not yet gone from the soil. We are on the
ground seeing the flight of the falcons as the day before we
followed the hunt, and in true Shaksperean language berated
every defaulting hound, and as on the night before the hunt
we accompanied the stranger guest of Clement Parkes, one Will
Shakspere, in the night shadows tracing the great hart and
finding his slot, or hoof-mark. Why, even political economists
would revel in the fancy ; one we know of, whose name is men-
tioned by the author, certainly would transport himself to that
sixteenth-century world of Tudor gables, sylvan scenes, still living
in the " Faerie Queene,*' Elizabethan chase, and revelry enlarg-
ing life, inspiring adventure, and laying the foundations of an
empire the greatest since Marcus Aurelius drew the boundaries
of the Roman state.
We must pass from the ** assembly *' — that is, the meeting for
the hunt — say nothing of the harboring of the stag, all of
which is to be read in the souvenirs called plays and poems
left by that visitor of Clement Parkes, nothing of the match-
ing of the voices of the hounds, an art in itself — " My love
shall hear the music of my hounds " * — nothing of the minute
examination of the performance of each kind of dog and each
individual dog^ with which the work teems, and to which a
reference is made in some passage of the plays or poems of
Shakspere. In the light it gives, the meaning of obscure pas-
sages becomes clear, passages that were regarded as unmeaning
are found to be full of point, passages at which commentators
tinkered are pregnant with suggestion in their old form. We
do not know whether the author, in providing for William
Silence in the happy hunting-ground of Elizabethan lawyers and
soldiers now described as that part of the United Kingdom
called Ireland, takes a fling at the good old custom by which
our rulers keep the "plums" for themselves; but if he does, he
is not the first distinguished Irishman who has done so. Berke-
ley, a Trinity man like himself, and like him a most amiable
and accomplished man, was aware that the principal use of Ire-
land was to provide appointments for Englishmen ; nay, that
nt) one could fill the highest dignity in the church, the great
place of Lord Primate of Ireland, unless he was born in Eng-
land, a qualification without which learning, character, and
ability were useless, but possessing which, these claims could
be readily dispensed with.
* " A Midsummer-Night's Dream."
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Observatory of Georgetown University,
CATHOLIC LIFE IN WASHINGTON.
BY MARY T. WAGGAMAN.
O the west of a muddy and perverse little stream,
which bewildered sight-seers persist in mistak-
ing for the Potomac, but which is known to the
initiated as Rock Creek, lies the most venerable
section of the National Capital — a section which
in spite of its incorporation with the city proper is still called
Georgetown by the conservative dwellers therein. Traces of its
unforgotten individuality yet remain notwithstanding the peren-
nial invasion of enterprising aliens across its obliterated border
lines. A vague archaic charm, together with a fast-fading pro-
vincialism, haunt the place and 'mingle like obsolete melodies
with the cosmopolitan harmonies of the Republic's heart.
In 1786, before the French engineer L'Enfant had even
evolved his majestic plans for the future City of Washington —
fourteen years before the seat of government was moved to its
present site — Alexander Doyle, surveyor and architect, had be-
gun to erect old Trinity Church in the burgh of Georgetown,
upon a lot purchased for the purpose by the Most Rev. John
Carroll, first Bishop of Baltimore. This is the first significant
fact in the archives of Catholicism at the Capital, the com-
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822
Catholic Life in Washington.
[Mar.,
mencement of chronicles which are re-
dolent with inspiration and glowing
with triumphs.
Old Trinity Church is now used as
a chapel and Sunday-school ; adjoining
it is new Trinity Church, a large gray
structure which fronts the setting sun
and is surrounded by wide, smooth
lawns and encircled by veteran trees.
Close to this consecrated spot is the
University of Georgetown, whose far-
famed turrets rise like sacred beacons
above the wooded hills beyond. The
progress of this institution is parallel
with the progress of Washington itself. For more than a cen-
tury it has been moulding noble citizens and patriots. Its
schools of art, law, and medicine are thronged with eager
students, many of them bearing names which for successive
generations have appeared upon her rolls.
Rev. John G. Haoen, SJ.
Central Altar of Holy Trinity.
Generous testimonials of the loyal devotion of her sons are
seen in the Dahlgren Chapel and the Riggs Library. The latter,
situated in the south pavilion of the main building, was founded
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1898.] Catholic Life in Washington. 823
by Mr. Francis
Riggs, one of
the leading
hankers and
philanthropists
of the city, in
memory of his
father, George
W. Riggs, and
his brother,
Thomas Laura-
son Riggs, a
former pupil of
the college.
The . alcoves
are designed
to afford shelf- ^
room for 104,- "
000 books; they |
now contain ^
75,000. Among §
them are many §
rare and curi- g
ous volumes. >
Shining forth S
from a back- s
ground of oaks r
and willows
which shadow
the wind-
ing " College
Walks" is the
white-domed
Obser v a t o r y,
where the late
Father Curley's
distingu i s h e d
successor, the
Rev. John G.
Hagen, S.J.,
keeps his starry
vigils. He will
shortly publish
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824 Catholic Life in Washington. [Mar.,
a most important astronomical chart, which is the outcome of
many seasons of observations and toilsome calculations.
As a result of the untiring zeal and executive ability of the
present rector, the Rev. J. Haven Richards, S.J., the George-
town University Hospital is almost completed. By having it
and the annexed dispensary entirely under the control of the
faculty, greater facilities will be afforded for illustrating, by
clinical teaching, the various practical branches of medicine.
The well-known Academy of Georgetown was established in
1799 under the direction of Archbishop Neale. It is the mother-
house of the Visitation Order in the United States. Viewed
from the street, the convent has a somewhat austere appear-
ance, but at the rear are vine-hung porches overlooking box-
bordered gardens, rolling meadows, and wide-wandering paths.
From the blessed halls of this sweet home legions of brilliant,
pure-souled women have gone forth whose lives prove the suc-
cess of the sisters' methods. The wives and daughters of many
celebrated men have received their education from this revered
Alma Mater. Mrs. William Tecumseh Sherman; Mrs. Stephen
Douglas, now Mrs. Robert Williams ; Mrs. Beauregard, the wife
of General Beauregard ; Marion Ramsay, who became Mrs.
Cutting, of New York ; the wife of General Joseph E. John-
ston ; the daughter of Judge Gaston, of North Carolina ; the
daughter of Commodore Rogers ; Harriet Lane Johnson, the
niece of President Buchanan ; Mary Logan Tucker, the daugh-
ter of General John A. Logan ; Pearl Tyler, the daughter of
President Tyler ; the wife of General Philip H. Sheridan ; Mrs.
Potter Palmer and her sister, Mrs. Fred. Grant ; Harriet Monroe,
the gifted author who wrote the " Columbian Ode ** for the
World's Fair ; Madeleine Vinton Dahlgren ; Mrs. Roebling, the
wife of the builder of the Brooklyn Bridge, who herself finished
the great work after her husband had been stricken down with
illness; Ella Loraine Dorsey, and a host of other charming and
cultivated women, were pupils of this institution. Among the
various flourishing schools which owe their foundation to the
Visitandines of Georgetown is the Connecticut Avenue Convent
in Washington. This handsome building is set in grounds
which occupy a whole city block in one of the most fashionable
neighborhoods.
A square or two from the Georgetown Monastery are the
private art galleries of Mr. Thomas E, Waggaman, president of
the Washington Council of the St. Vincent de Paul Society
and treasurer of the Catholic University of America. This col-
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1898.] Catholic Life in Washington. 825
lection of paintings and oriental ceramics and curios is con-
sidered one of the finest in the country. Millet, Troy on, Mauve,
Dagnan-Bouveret, Corot, Harpignies, Israels, Fromentin, Doucet,
Rousseau, Jacques, Breton, Ter Meulen, Maris, and De Nou-
ville are among the masters represented. Examples of the
modern French and Dutch schools predominate, although there
are some striking pictures by English and American artists.
The latest acquisition is a wonderful canvas entitled "Faith,"
a work of Sir Joshua Reynolds which formerly ornamented a
window at the University of Oxford.
Once a week, on Thursdays, Mr. Waggaman throws open
Mr. Waogaman*s Art Gallery.
his treasures to the public for the benefit of the poor of the
District. Every Sunday afternoon he has informal receptions,
where friends and connoisseurs delight to focus.
The aspect of Catholicism is as vigorous in other parts of
Washington as it is in the quaint quarter of Georgetown. One
by one the old churches, simple and primitive in design, have
given place to stately piles more in accord with the increasing
splendor of the city which they sanctify and adorn.
The new St. Matthew's, although at present in a rather
crude condition, promises to be a most imposing specimen of
ecclesiastical architecture. The plan is cruciform, with a cen-
tral altar admirably adapted for solemn ritual. One of the side
chapels is dedicated to St. Anthony, and is a reproduction of
an ancient shrine in Padua. It was the gift of ^ Mrs. M. H.
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826 Catholic Life in Washington. [Mar.,
RobbinSy the daughter of ex-Governor Carroll. The cost of the
interior decorations, which are of Carrara and Verona marble,
executed by Primo Fontana of Italy, was thirty thousand dol-
lars.
St. Aloysiiis, which, like Holy Trinity, is in charge of the
Jesuits, has been a potent factor in the temporal as well as the
spiritual growth of north-east Washington. Founded forty years
ago, in what was then a suburban swamp, it has now a parish
of five thousand souls. One thousand children attend the Sun-
day-school and seven hundred men in the congregation are
monthly communicants. Gonzaga College, which has already
passed its diamond jubilee, and the unequalled parochial schools
taught by the Sifters of Notre Dame, have converted this sec-
tion into a fountain-head of religious energy.
St. Dominic's, in south-west Washington, is another great
source of Catholic activities. Convents and academies have
gathered around this high-steepled, gray-stone edifice of the
Dominican Fathers, which, with its richly stained windows,
dusky side chapels, and dim aisles, is' one of the most pictur-
esque churches of the town.
The white stone church of St. Peter, on Capitol Hill, and
St Mary's, the German church, have both arisen in new beauty
on the sites of the old houses of worship, which were endeared
by so many hallowed memories and associated so intimately
with the early annals of the city.
St. Joseph's, the Immaculate Conception, the Holy Name,
St. Stephen's, and St. Paul's have large and devout congrcga-
tions.
It is estimated by authorities that there are from 12,000 to
15,000 colored Catholics at the Capital. Seats are reserved for
them in every church ; they also have two churches of their
own, St. Augustine's and St. Cyprian's. St. Augustine's, the
more important, was founded in 1874 by the Rev. Felix Barotti.
Upon his death, it was for eleven years under the care of the
Josephite Fathers of Mill Hiil, England; on their recall from
the United States, the cardinal appointed the Rev. Paul Grif-
fith pastor.
St. Patrick's, which was established in 1795, is near one of
the big thoroughfares up and down which streams the vast
army of government employees on their way to and from the
Post Office, the Patent Office, the Pension Bureau, and Trea-
sury Department. Notwithstanding the whirl and bustle with-
out the granite walls, within the church there is always to be
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1898.]
Catholic Life in Washington.
827
St. Patrick's Church.
found, even in the busiest hours of the day, a goodly band of
worshippers prostrated before the towering altar of marble and
onyx.
The Rev. D. J. Stafford, D.D., is assistant pastor of St.
Patrick's, where multitudes of all creeds as well as unbelievers
flock to hear him preach. Although he is but thirty-seven
years of age, he has the reputation of being " one of the great-
est living masters of expression." His
marvellous natural
eloquence have
profound study ;
table comprehen-
tellectual anomalies
cial manner to be
faith. He is con-
upon to address au-
— labor unions and
Christian Associa-
gations as well as
dels and free-think-
on Citizenship,
Rev. D. J. Stafford, D.D.
gifts of grace and
been reinforced by
his acute yet chari-
sion of modern in-
fits him in a spe-
a champion of the
stantly being called
diences of all kinds
the Young Men's
tipn, Jewish congre-
assemblies of infi-
ers. His lectures
Shakspere, P o e,
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828 Catholic Life in Washington. [Mar.,
Dickens, etc., show- unrivalled versatility and wealth of imagi-
nation.
Connected with the churches are innumerable societies for
the furtherance of both the heavenly and the earthly interests
of the faithful. Each parish has its League of the Sacred
Heart and its sodalities, besides many other minor fraternities.
The Ancient Order of Hibernians and the Catholic Knights
are strongly represented. The Washington Council of St. Vin-
cent de Paul is particularly active, and from time to time there
are rumors of centralizing this society at the Capital.
The Tabernacle Society was founded in Washington in 1876
by the Rev. John J. Keane, then assistant pastor of St. Patrick's,
late Rector of the Catholic University, now Archbishop of
Damascus. Shortly afterwards it was affiliated with the Asso-
ciation for Perpetual Adoration and the Work for the Poor
Churches, under the control of the Archconfraternity for Per-
petual Adoration, whose chief seat is Rome and whose history
is so well known.
Many of the members of the Tabernacle Society are women
of social prominence. Mrs. Edward White, the wife of Justice
White, is the president; while Mrs. Ramsay, the wife of Rear
Admiral Ramsay, Mrs. Henry May, Mrs. Stephen Rand, Mrs.
Vance, Mrs. Story, Mrs. Sheridan, Mrs. W. E. Montgomery,
and Mrs. William C. Robinson form an indefatigable corps of
officers. Miss Fanny Whelan, the secretary and treasurer, has
been identified with the organization during most of its exis-
tence. The amount of cutting, stitching, and embroidery done
by these white-handed toilers is phenomenal. As the result of
their arduous efforts, barren sanctuaries blossom into beauty,
vacant altars are furnished, and far-away missionaries are clothed
with silken vestments. The reports at the meeting of the Eu-
charistic Congress, in 1895, recorded the distribution of twenty-
nine thousand six hundred and thirty-five articles in seventy-
six different dioceses. Since that date several thousand more
articles have been sent away to needy priests.
The National Capital abounds in solid and superb manifesta-
tions of the infallible faith. Reared upon the heroic virtues
which are alone found in their fulness in that church ''which
has covered the world with its monuments," sustained by
sacrificial lives, the Catholic philanthropic institutions of Wash-
ington offer a subtle and silent challenge to the clamorous al-
truist of these tangential times.
There are three orphan asylums in the city : St. Anne's,
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founded in i860 by the late Dr. Toner, is in charge of the
Sisters of Charity, and is the refuge for over a hundred little
waifs from their most diminutive day until they attain the
discreet age of seven years, when the girls are sent to St. Vin-
MONSIGNOK CONATY, ReCTOR OF THE CATHOLIC UNIVERSITY OF AMERICA.
cent's and th'e boys to St. Joseph's, the latter being under the
supervision of the Sisters of the Holy Cross.
St. Vincent's is the oldest charitable institution in the Dis-
trict, having been established by the Rev. William Matthews
in 1825. St. Anne's receives an appropriation of five thousand
dollars from the government, but St. Vincent's has to depend
entirely upon private contributions. As there are from eighty
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830 Catholic Life in Washington. [Mar.,
•
to one hundred girls, between the ages of seven and fourteen,
sheltered here, it is much to be regretted that their support
is so uncertain. Having been taught many useful lessons in
books and out of books, these girls enter St. Rose's Industrial
School, which is also managed by the Sisters of Charity, who
here train their pupils in fashionable dressmaking and various
other arts which enable them to become efficient bread-winners.
A recent addition to the Infant Asylum is a summer home
for the babies — a comfortable old house ten miles out of town,
where the happy though motherless mites can teeth and tumble
in safety.
The girls of St. Rose's are also to have an outing-place,
for which they are indebted to the late Mr. Leech, a kind-
hearted old bachelor of the city who bequeathed ten thousand
dollars for this purpose. The chosen spot for their holiday
retreat is Ocean City, Maryland.
Another example of the sublime resolution and compassion
for which the daughters of St. Vincent have always been noted
is Providence Hospital, which was established in 1862 for the
benefit of the indigent sick, but during the war was much
used by the soldiers. From lowly beginnings, through the
deep-felt and devoted interest of Hon. Thaddeus Stevens, who
befriended the Institution on all occasions, and through the
gratuitous services of its medical and surgical staff, the hospital
has become in all its appointments a model one.
Since its incorporation, in 1864, Congress has appropriated
every year the sum of seventeen thousand dollars for its main-
tenance and treatment of ninety-five indigent persons a day,
but the number of poor patients in the public wards averages
from 120 to 130. There are about fifty private rooms and
several private wards, the proceeds of which form a fund which
is dedicated to the relief of the suffering poor of the District.
No cases are refused except those of insanity or diseases of
a contagious nature. Patients are admitted to the public
wards by order of the Surgeon General of the United States
Army,
Connected with the hospital is a wide, airy ward apart from
the main building for patients who require isolation.
The operating room with its white marble walls, though it
sets a sensitive soul shivering, must be a solace to the medical
mind, so perfect is it in all its ghastly equipments. A very
youthful and serene sister gives her whole time to its atten-
dance and to the preparation of surgical dressings. Another
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white-bonneted saint spends her days in the drug-room deftly
filHng the numerous prescriptions.
Beneath the surgical amphitheatre, with its tier upon tier of
seats, is the bacteriological and pathological laboratory. There
is also a training school annexed, which is constantly supply-
ing the hospital with a corps of well-drilled nurses who, to-
gether with the sisters, are unwearying in the discharge of their
blessed tasks.
It was through the instrumentality of the beloved Father J.
A. Walter, late pastor of St. Patrick's, whose charitable enter-
prises were almost countless, that the Little Sisters of the
Poor came from France and established themselves in Washing-
ton in 1871. They now have a well-built and commodious
Home for the Aged, in which two hundred old men and women
are tenderly cared for. There are only seventeen sisters in the
community. Each day four of these go out to beg for their
helpless charges, who are entirely dependent upon private alms,
as the institution receives no pension whatsoever;
A delegation of the Sisters of the Good Shepherd came
from Baltimore to the Capital in 1883 — the residence of the
late Admiral Smith, U.S.N., having been put at their disposal
by his daughter. Miss Anna Smith, who died a few years ago.
The order now occupies a newly erected and elegant home
on the north-western outskirts of the city. The object of this
well-known institution is the reformation of fallen and abandoned
women who, desiring to amend their lives, apply for admission
or are entered by competent and lawful authority. All appli-
cants are received regardless of nation, age, or creed, and are
free to remain as long as they wish; some stay but a short
time, feut the greater number remain for one, two, sometimes
three years.
Congress appropriates twenty-seven hundred dollars annually
for the expenses of this great charity. The income of the in-
stitution is principally derived from the needle-work of its
inmates. All kinds of this work are done, from the exquisite
embroidery and hand-sewing for which the House of the
Good Shepherd is famous, to the coarse shop-work that simply
keeps unskilled hands occupied.
Distinct from the Reformatory is a Preservation Class for
young girls and children, whose days are divided between the
study of the elementary branches and industrial training. From
its foundation in Washington the " Good Shepherd " has ad-
mitted 476 persons, the average for the past year being 83.
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833 Catholic Life in Washington. [Mar.,
Two recent and as yet rather embryonic philanthropies in the
Capital are the Home for Destitute Working-Men and the
House of Mercy, a lodging-place for young working-women
where they may obtain board and shelter at nominal rates.
The former is under the jurisdiction of the St. Vincent de
Paul Society, the latter is managed by four Sisters of Mercy
who are valiantly struggling for the advance-
ment of their undertaking.
The municipal affairs of Washington are
in the hands of three commissioners, who
are appointed by the President and con-
firmed by Congress, and the Capital, though
deprived of the
dubious gratifica-
tions of " local
politics," is a most
justly and tranquil-
ly governed city —
Charles Warren Stoddard.
the only grievance
of the Catholic citi-
zen being the op-
position to the
granting of appro-
. ^. ^ ^ f , Martin F. Morris, LL.D.
pnations to Catho-
lic philanthropic institutions.
Whenever the question is brought up for
consideration, there is a rumpus among cer-
tain estimable representatives and senators ,
who have somewhat squint-eyed notions of
equity, and who are disposed to caricature
the Constitution in their attempts to prevent the government
from aiding hundreds of helpless unfortunates of all creeds
simply because they are under Catholic care. The reiterated
and convenient plea of "no union between church and state**
scarcely sanctions the state's shifting many of its obvious ob-
ligations on a church which in its merciful motherhood denies
no claim and counts no cost.
The social life of a democracy is necessarily more or less
amorphous. Class distinctions cannot but be ill-defined and
ephemeral, and any assumption of exclusiveness seems some-
what incongruous and unwarrantable. Nowhere in the United
Madeleine Vinton Dahlcres.
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States are these characteristics so strongly emphasized as in
Washington. The perpetual flux of the most influential forces
of society at the Capital, the assemblage of so many foreign
embassies, each in itself a differing centrifugal element, tends
to heighten the instinct of equality. In this city Catho^icity is
not confined to any particular set or circle, but pervades and
kindles every phase of intercourse. This is rapidly resulting
in the abolishment of all bigotry.
Numbers of the old resident families, which form the stable
portion of the population, are descended from those sturdy
pioneers who planted the standard of the cross upon the shorts
Reading Room of Carroll Institute.
of Maryland, and many of the diplomats from Europe and
South America profess the true faith ; these facts, together
with the presence of the Apostolic Delegate, the Most Rev.
Archbishop Martinelli, give an especial dignity and lustre to
local Catholicism.
Among the eminent children of the church residing in
Washington is the Hon. Joseph McKenna, of California, who
has just resigned the position of attorney general to assume
the duties of associate justice of the Supreme Court. His
irreproachable character is the outcome of a dearly cherished
creed.
The Hon. Edward Douglas White, who is also a Catholic,
is a native of New Orleans and one of the most honored of
VOL. LXVI.— 53
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Molly Elliott Seawell.
834 Catholic Life in Washington. [Mar.,
the many brilliant alumni of Georgetown
University. After having filled several
important offices in his own State, he
was elected United States senator of
Louisiana; before the expiration of his
term he was raised by Cleveland, in
1894, to the Supreme Bench.
Martin F. Morris was also educated
at Georgetown University. His excep-
tional legal reputation, acquired during
his eighteen years of partnership .with
the late Richard T. Merrick, of Wash-
ington, led to his appointment in 1893
as associate justice of the newly form
ed Court of Appeals. He is a quiet, unassuming man whose wide
; erudition humbly rests upon the Rock of Revelation.
The genial novelist, poet, and essayist, Maurice F. Egan,
occupies the chair of philology at the Catholic University..
His popular lectures on literature, delivered not only at this
institution but at the various academies of the city, are scho-
larly combinations of humor, logic, philosophy, and fancy. His
home is a veritable " lion's " den, for he and his gracious wife
are always entertaining celebrities.*
The author of the wondrous South Sea Idyls^ as profes-
j sor of English at the Catholic University, has had to resist his
j nomadic tendencies to explore all corners of the world. His
i present domicile, d\ibbed by him " The Bungalow," is full of
treasure-troves gathered in his wanderings over two continents.
As a rule this itinerant poet and dreamer flies formal func-
tion. When Mr. Stoddard is captured by some enterprising
hostess and made to grace some festivity, there is much
rejoicing among those who have the good fortune to meet
him, for the magic charm of the man himself even surpasses
that of his books.
Madeleine Vinton Dahlgren, the widow of the brave admiral,
has for many years held prominence in the social, official, and
literary life of the Capital. At the commencement of her
career as a Catholic writer she received the Apostolic Benedic-
tion from Pius IX., and her last powerful work, entitled The
Secret Directoryy has been crowned with the blessing of our
Holy Father Leo XHI.
Molly Elliott Seawell, a convert, is the author of The Vir-
ginia Cavalier^ Throckmorton^ The Children of Destiny^ The
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Catholic University of America.
Sprightly Romance of Marsac^ and many other stories captivat-
ing by their limpid English and delicious wit.
The astute critic, Dr. A. J. Faust, is a familiar figure in
the Capital, where he has long been. an instructor in St. John's
College, which is conducted by the Christian Brothers.
Ella Loraine Dorsey, the talented daughter of the late
Anna Hanson Dorsey, is the Russian tnanslator in one of the
scientific libraries of Washington. This bright, lovable woman
is the 'author of several delightfully told tales; notable among
them are The Tsars Horses and The Taming of Polly. The
latter has taken pinafored readers by storm.
The limitations of space forbid the recording of the names
of hosts of other Catholics whose lives dominate society at the
nation's headquarters.
The Carroll Institute is the leading 'organization of the
Catholic laymen in the Capital, and it is one of the most pros-
perous clubs of the kind in the country. The object, as stated
in its constitution, is " to draw together members for social in-
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836 Catholic Life in Washington. [Mar.,
tcrcourse, physical culture, and improvement in literature, the
encouragement of education, and the defence of Catholic faith
and morals."
. The idea of this association originated with Major Edward
Mallet, while president of the Young Catholic Friend's Society.
The Institute is indeed an honor to the historic name of
Carroll, so illustriously represented by the Most Rev, John
Carroll, first Archbishop of Baltimore, Charles Carroll of Car-
rollton, the signer of the Declaration of Independence, and
Daniel Carroll of Duddington, one of the commissioners ap-
pointed by Washington to lay out the Capital.
From its modest commencement, in 1873, Carroll Institute
has grown into a great power for good. In its early days the
Rev. John J. Keane was most earnest in his effort to extend
its influence ; the late Father Walter also gave it his cordial
and generous support.
-In 1892 the handsome new edifice was erected, on Tenth
Street near K, at the cost of $80,000. It combines all the fea-
tures of an athhetic club-house with the quiet charm of a liter-
ary retreat. In the basement are the bowling alley, kitchen,
and dining hall ; on the first floor, the auditorium, with a seat-
ing capacity for 600, and the library, containing 4,500 volumes ;
the reading room, director's room, the gymnasium — presided
over by an accomplished instructor — ^the amusement rooms,
billiard rooms, and baths occupy the next floor. The Institute's
membership is 540. Its dramatic club, minstrels, and orchestra
deserve much commendation for their excellent entertainments.
For several seasons past a series of complimentary lectures
have been delivered by some of the cleverest men of the
District under the auspices of the Institute.
The Sisters of Notre Dame de Namur have purchased a
commanding site upon the northern boundary of Washington,
close to the Catholic University, upon which Trinity College is
to be erected. The founders hope that the fine Gothic struc-
ture will be completed and ready for occupancy in about a
year. The building will be large enough to accommodate one
hundred pupils, with the necessary teachers. The curriculum
is intended to supplement the usual convent course.
Higher culture for femininity is one of the shibboleths of
the day. While the New Woman, with her head full of vaga-
ries, is reconstructing the universe. Trinity College will ofifer to
her Catholic sisters an opportunity to acquire knowledge which,
though adapting itself to all rightful demands of the period, is
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firmly wedded to that unchanging faith which has lifted woman
in all ages to her true position, wreathed her brow, even in
the early church, with student laurels, and given her as a model
Mary, the Seat of
Wisdom.
The establish-
ment of the Catholic
University of Amer-
ica at the axle of the
government is one of
the most prophetic
achievements of the
closing century. In
its radiant youth, the g
institution holds the x
promise of an incom- =«
parable future. Its ?
fructifying spirit has ^
already been felt in "^
all parts of the coun- 5
try. To the people S
of Washington, who 3
live within sight of "
its inspiring walls, 2;
who can attend, at o
will, its public lee- ^
tures, and who have 2
the privilege of per- g
sonal contact with ^
the profound schol- '
ars who compose its
faculty, it is a direct
and constant impul-
sion to higher intel-
lectual and religious
life.
Unlike the other
famous . seats' of
learning in the Unit-
ed States, the Catholic University has no department for under-
graduates, its function being the training of specialists in
mathematics, physics, chemistry, biology, philosophy, letters,
sociology, economics, politics, law, and theology.
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838 Catholic Life in Washington. [Man,
The rector, Monsignor Thomas J. Conaty, D.D., is a man
whose splendid mental endowments are enhanced by holiness
and simplicity of character, and who is in every way prepared
for his responsible office. No one understands more fully than
he the purpose of this peerless university — this tower of Truth,
from whose summit Science and Religion are discerned as
kindred and complementary rays from the same eternal Sun ;
this tower of Truth, whose gates are open to make answer to
the awful interrogations of travailing souls. The wide-spread
movement for the increase of culture must eventually bring
about the complete disintegration of Protestantism. Then
must non-Catholic America be confronted by the choice be-
tween the inchoate darkness of agnosticism and the unfailing
light of infallible authority. Numerous signs of this coming
alternative are visible at the great educational centres, among
which the National Capital is predestined to have -the ascen-
dency.
Statue of Leo XIII. in Catholic University.
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reader will be at once reminded of some of Carlyle's writings
by the form into which the author's reflections and judgments
are cast. They strike one like aphorisms, each thought clearly
marked, defined, separated ; you have a rich sentiment or a
profound truth in your possession, and you possess it as if it
came like an intuition which grasps at once the whole idea,
whether .it be a truth strictly so-called or a sentiment. The
resemblance to Carlyle is on the surface, however. Dr. Spald-
ing is under his aphorisms; Carlyle too often was only remade
clothes with ill-assorted cloth patching the threadbare parts, or
the whole so badly dyed that in a little time they looked worse
than in their old beggarly state. The fact is, that Dr. Spald-
ing is an able man who had been trained to think in the only
school of thought, the Catholic Church ; Carlyle was a bundle
of uncontrolled passions and calculated eccentricities, who fell
in love with his words, mistook them for thoughts, and philoso-
phized from them as if they were eternal " verities," as he
would say in his own jargon. Dr. Spalding is an honest man,
Carlyle a wordy impostor.
The contrast between both can be seized when looking at
their views of labor and study. Both acknowledge in words the
usefulness of labor as a training for the development of the
moral nature. That is to say, the dignity of labor is recog-
nized by both. Study, as a means towards the perfection of
nature, is insisted upon by Carlyle ; and of study and of labor
generally he has to say, with the laborious monks, " Laborare
est orare." But no suspicion that a duty to labor precedes
labor is hinted by Carlyle anywhere except in that quotation.
♦Chicago : A. C. McClurg & Co.
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840 Talk about New Books. [Mar.,
That some must work and some rule, he takes as the inevitable
social law, and reconciles it with the quotation thus : the rulers
are workers because they protect industry ; but why should the
particular " some " be ." underlings " ? Analyze it, and you find
that the miseries of life which cause discontent with one's lot
are not because the stars have shaped men's destinies, but be-
cause men are " underlings." He had no conception of the
duty which preceded and sanctified labor ; if he had, he would
not have deified conscienceless strength of will by a philoso-
phy which found the divine in a man whenever he engaged in
any work that could be loudly talked about. To take advan-
tage of the weakness of an ally, to seize territory even at the
cost of rousing the world to arms, was the movement of the
divine in Frederick. We must work because God has so or-
dained it ; this being the author's position, he soundly philoso-
phizes ; as, for instance, when he says with reference to genius
— which after all is the capacity for the highest work in a de-
partment of labor — that "for whoever loves purely, or strives
bravely, or does honest work, life's current bears fresh and
fragrant thoughts."
In this assurance, to which any one will assent, we have the
expression in a word or two of all that philosophy has taught
the most virtuous intellects. Tennyson caught one part of it
when he said :
" Better to have loved and lost
Than never to have loved at all,"
for surely the employment of the affections, whether within
the home or in the intercourse of friendship beyond it, is one
of those pleasures which bear testimony to the beauty of that
nature which God has given to man. It may be that they have
been bestowed on objects unworthy of them, but the badness
of a son's conduct can never deprive a parent of the gratifica-
tion he has once enjoyed. It is not true, in Tennyson's sense,
that a sorrow's crown of sorrow is remembering happier things,
though it is true in the higher sense of striving bravely, which
is that higher striving of sacrifice to which our author in part
has granted the reward of fresh and fragrant thoughts. The
whole measure of striving must include endurance, which, in
the shape of fortitude, is the discipline of life and the expres-
sion of disciplined life.
So, speaking of the " educator," he says his whole aim i? to
foster life, but that is to deal with each individual so as to in-
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crease his power of life and to heighten his quality of life.
This theory of education is an arraignment of any system
which only takes account of the intellect, and fashions men
into money-making machines. It arraigns those systems which
prevent the expansion of the heart, which find no room for
that sympathy which if not love is an effluence of love. To
make the intellect the seat of truth and the will the executive
officer of justice is the office of education. When faithfully
pursued by the teacher, he may hope that some of his disciples
will realize in their lives the mercy inseparable from truth and
justice, because they shall feel how much mercy they require
themselves, how little they know of the thousand influences
that co-operate in producing, and therefore qualifying, the worst
acts of others.
Indeed, the many beautiful thoughts to be found in this
work will elevate the reader and enrich him. If literature is
a support in the troubles of life, if it be a solace for mental
pain, a relief from physical pain, it is mainly because it opens
realms into which pain does not enter. It is not the mere dis-
traction which reading affords from the immediate pressure
of suffering that causes one to forget it for the time ; that
would be a transfer from the rack to the chamber of little
ease ; but it is the positive pleasure to the intellect and heart
which reading offers that supplies the elixir. Wise and beau-
tiful thoughts in the store-house of the mind will produce some-
thing of the effect of reading when the eye and ear will not
exercise their functions. Such thoughts we have in the book
before us. In the same way that proverbs are said to be the
condensed wisdom of the ages of mankind, so the thoughts
here, clearly cut as crystal, can be said to be the essence of a
wide and varied knowledge.
Some Scenes from the Iliads by William Dillon, LL.D.* —
Mr. Dillon, in a lecture delivered last July before the Columbian
Catholic Summer-School, at Madison, Wis., gave to the public
his estimate of the quality of Homer's genius. This lecture
has since been published in separate form and is the little
book before us. He opens his lecture by a plea for classical
studies. We regret to say this was needed. Their influence is
not now what it used to be in the English Parliament ; felicit-
ous quotations from the Greek and Roman classics no longer
reveal in a flash the spirit of a speech. The late Mr. Butt
* Chicago and New York : D. H. McBride & Co.
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842 Talk about New Books. [Mar.,
was die 4«st of the Romans ; Mr. Gladstone is the last of the
Greeks. Of course we do not mean that the value of these
studies consisted in enabling a man to give an appearance of
classical learning to his addresses in Parliament or at the
Bar ; it was the tone of mind, the character of taste they were
so instrumental in forming, which constituted their chief value ;
and such quotations as we allude to only came in as inciden-
tal evidences of the reality of the speaker's culture. But when
those pursuits of elegant leisure have lost their power in
England, it is not surprising that in the rush of business which
is the characteristic of American activity they should be some-
what undervalued. We had occasion some time ago, in notic-
ing a book, to remark that there was a tendency to return to
those studies, and we take Mr. Dillon's lecture as another in-
stance of the kind.
Though very short, this little study of Homer is interest-
ing. Mr. Dillon was obliged, owing to his limits, to state
opinions rather than to open the grounds of them, to suggest
rather than dissect; but he has done his. work admirably, for
he has excited curiosity in every mind which is not satisfied
with having its thinking done for it. By the way, we cannot
confirm a statement of his — we say this in passing — that boys
for the most part consider the Iliad stands first among books
for difficulty, stupidity, and " cussedness," with the Anabasis
a good second in these distinguishing characteristics. It is
notorious — at least it is so if we are not dreaming — that boys
devour the Iliad^ even through the medium of wretched trans-
lations, in corners of the playground, and even under their
desk-lids, when they should be at their Asses* Bridge or at their
surds — and they do this with fair risks of a flogging. We
have hardly ever known a boy whose young heart did not
shine in his eyes, as he recollected the shout of the remnant
of the Ten Thousand when they saw the " sea " and felt the
hope it inspired that they should reach their homes at last.
The view which Mr. Dillon expresses, that Homer is the
national poet of Greece in a sense that no great poet of any
other people is their national poet, is one we can hardly fol-
low. He cites Professor Webb as an authority — ijot, indeed,
if we understand him rightly, that he has taken the opinion
from Mr. Webb, but as a support to his own view. Of course
no one can question the scholarship of the latter ; we would take
him as high authority on a reading or an interpretation, but
(classical) scholarship pure and simple is not conclusive in com-
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Migirl Talk about New Books. 843
parative estimates based on political, sorral, md f^Aanln^iral
differences, and the influence of these differences in determin-
ing the quality called national. For instance, take Shakspere,
as Mr. Dillon does. He says that Shakspere is cosmopolitan.
We ask, in what way is Shakspere this that Homer is not ?
Our own poor opinion is, that Shakspere is the product of
England, and could be that of no other country. The magnifi-
cent equity of his judgments, his superiority to all motives of
fear or favor or affection, reflect in highly idealized form the
habitual reverence for law which distinguishes the Englishman
at home. It used to be the fashion of superficial but clever
criticism to say that in the Historical Plays he held a brief for
the House of Lancaster. What solid evidence of this can be
adduced ? Test it, and it resolves itself into the hoary hunch-
back that walks the stage and does his murders as Richard HI. ;
but we know that Richard was in the prime of life at the
time, and so on. Not a particle of Lancastrian prejudice is in
the conception ; why, an Englishman's contempt for foreigners
breaks out in Richard, the fearless heart of the man lifts him
above the craft and treachery that marked the assassinations of
Italian statesmanship in those days. The Richard of the
Chronicles had infused into him the policy of Southern Eu-
rope by the great master, but when infusing it he stamped it
with an English seal.
We should have liked to say more on topics suggested in
this lecture. The appreciation of Greek eloquence in the
speeches is perfect, the specimens selected are those which in
an especial manner would give the English reader an idea of
the power which Homer possessed over the sources of feeling,
and in which his only rival is Shakspere. However, we cannot
refrain from mentioning the happy hit which Mr. Dillon gives
— an instance from the ninth book of the Iliad — to controvert
Lord Sherbrooke's position : that you can count upon a man's
conduct to a nicety when you place his ear within the ring of
pounds, shillings, and pence. The heart of the whole world
would bear testimony to Homer's truth to nature in making
Achilles' pride and anger superior to the consideration of in-
terest. There are men alive who have some passion or some
motive against whose power wealth would be offered in vain.
Lord Sherbrooke was a political economist; he was not a man
of this kind. His principles led him to a cave of Adcrllam —
perhaps there were concealed treasures there^— and they led
him out of it, that he might become chancellor of the ex-
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844 Talk about New Books. [Mar.,
chequer. They led him to what Mr. Disraeli happily called
^'ermined insignificance/' and afterwards to desert the man
who had ennobled him. A man, no doubt, may betray every
one who trusted him and at the same time V)ffer sound opinions
on economics, but when he bases .his opinions on "human
nature " we ask : Is it on lago's or Kent's that they stand ?
We promise our readers a pleasant and profitable half-hour
with William Dillon's Scenes from the Iliad.
The Chatelaine of the Roses, by Maurice Francis Egan.*
— There are four stories in the book which bears the title to this
notice — one the title story itself, in six chapters ; the others arc
very much shorter; all are good. They are written for young
people between the ages of ten and fifteen. It is not easy to
write in such a manner as to please and interest the average
boy and girl of that period of life. Some are so precocious at
the age of ten that Scott's novels are their food in fiction,
some so much more than precocious that from ten to fifteen
they have risen from the demi-monde of Ouida to the three-
quarters world of Balzac. If those clever boys who affect to
be blasi at the age of fifteen are not putrid in mind as well
as corrupt in morals, they can enjoy the stirring scenes, the
admirably designed situations, and the polished writing of the
first story. We think Dr. Egan, if he exerted his power to
the utmost, would take a leading place in romantic literature.
There will be always a demand for it, which even a depraved
taste for gross realism cannot overcome, provided that ability
of a high order is enlisted in its service. Such ability Dr.
Egan possesses, and this means a great deal. It means the
power of carrying away men from sordid and paltry motives,
which are called practical views, to a life where justice and
self-sacrifice are ruling influences; of placing women in the
sphere of duty where they sit enthroned in the hearts of brave
and honorable men and administer the moralities of the paren-
tal board ; of producing conversations full of gaiety and courtesy
or touched with the gentleness of sorrow and sympathy, and
not dialogues of bald insolence called cynicism, of vicious vul-
garity called humor ; of displaying the incidents of pure life in
the world of the home, and not the chronicles of the divorce
court and the criminal court as its reflex. To bring the higher
novel back to its place, ability and no common knowledge are
required. We think even if one were to fail it would be worth
• Philadelphia : H. L. Kilner & Co.
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the trial. As Quintillian says, It is a noble thing to fail in
noble undertakings. For the novel of the day no. talent is
needed ; a stable-boy's knowledge of mankind or the prompt-
ings of a foul imagination are sufficient. To prurient minds
Mr. Grant Allen is always as welcome as a Holywell-street
advertisement; and as in the advertisement so in Mr. Grant
Allen's novels, it is hard to say which is the more astonishing,
the badness of the morals or of the grammar, so often do
illiteracy and grossness go together ! We wish Dr. Egan would
try his hand on such work as made the fame of Scott, and
which would have made a name for Gerald Griffin if circum-
stances had not been too strong for him.
Our Lady of America, by Rev. G. Lee, C.S.Sp.,* is a little
work on the Miracle of Holy Mary of Guadalupe and the de-
votion which has proceeded from it. We do not remember
having read anything for a long time which has affected us so
much as this account of Our Lady's appearance to the Indian
neophyte Juan Diego on the blessed hill of Tepeyac. The
simplicity and directness of Father Lee's manner may have
had its influence in moving us, his intense conviction may
have contributed to the effect, and his careful proofs for the
apparitions and all connected with them, culminating, as they
do, in the letter of the present Holy Father inculcating devo-
tion to our Lady of America, may have borne their share in
moving us. But something remains for which the book, excel-
lent as it is, does not altogether account. When the author
says, in a note which serves as a motto, " I believe that the
Mother of God appeared on this continent and spoke to its
people and left them a wondrous memorial of her visit," he
supplies us with the element wanting to the explanation of
the effect produced by reading his book. Not by any means
that we mean his own conviction caused ours, but we have
such a conviction as he has; and the effect is an unspeakable
encouragement and consolation. Therefore, in recommending
the work there is much more than a mere reviewer's approval.
Indeed, with regard to private revelations, while there is a
great deal that is unsatisfactory in the way in which they are
regarded by the critical among the faithful, there is much to
cause caution in the readiness to accept them on the part of
the great body of the faithful. But this willingness is as far
from being a product of superstition as the highest moral effect
* Baltimore and New York : John Murphy & Co.
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of the highest mental process. It is in the highest degree
logicaK If once we accept the supernatural, there can be no
.more reason why angds should not appear to men to-day than
when they appeared to Abraham, no more reason why saints
should not appear as that angels have appeared. We should
call it superstition in a man of intellect and Information to
dread something bad happening to him the day he failed to touch
every lamp-post on his morning walk in Fleet Street. We see
no connection between the touching of the lamp-posts and the
events of the day. But the readiness to accept statements that
the servants of God in heaven have appeared to people on
earth has its root in all the elements within us which consti-
tute man's desire for union with God.
Putting aside the question of fraud, which has really no
bearing on the matter, the only objection to this readiness of
acceptance is that it proceeds from insufficient data. How?
The insufficiency of the data can only be with regard to a
particular apparition. It may be that enthusiasm carried to
the extent of madness may have fancied visits or seen visions
that never occurred. But the test is always easy. Madness
gambols from constant matter, you soon discriminate religious
mania from the intense and humble conviction of piety which
is at the same time appalled by favors granted. Looking at
the subject in this manner, one is almost tempted to regard
the action of Rome in the case of apparitions and similar in-
terventions with impatience.
It is said that a celestial visitor has appeared at such a
place. After a time the people of the place begin to think
there is something in it. The priest shakes his head. A little
later the people are convinced ; the priest refuses to move.
Strangers from more distant places throng there and go away with
the conviction that a great favor has been vouchsafed. Opinion
becomes too strong for the local priest ; he consults his breth-
ren, but receives scant countenance. Then he enters on. a
period of martyrdom, if he has become satisfied himself ; for
where he should have looked for sympathy and support he
finds none ; his severest critics are his brethren. Later on
there is such strong evidence that the priests put away their
doubts, bishops give way, and a petition is sent to Rome for
approval. This is the place where faith is needed. A cold
sceptical spirit examines everything, and if in addition it be
put forth that miracles have taken place, we doubt if Mr.
Hume himself would have entertained the evidence with one-
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tenth of the distrust with which it would be regarded by the
Roman authorities. Finally, if Rome is satisfied — and in say-
ing what we have advanced we do not question the piety of
the men charged with investigating such claims — the decree
made is so guarded in its character that a person might be
excused for thinking it had not been satisfied and that the
decree is only a conditional order.
In a sense, no doubt, this is so, for the Supreme Pontiff,
though in private he may have shed tears of happiness over
the manifestation, must leave it to the personal devotion of
each one to accept it or not, as he pleases.
The cult which is the subject of this book has passed
through all the difficulties we have mentioned, and far greater
ones, before it obtained sanction. Every objection that could
be thought of had been urged, every opposition stood in its
way. Italian jealousy displayed itself, the malignity of Spanish
Liberalism said all it xould say; and like Italian jealousy, the
contempt of the English-speaking races bore a part in dis-
crediting it ; but the devotion triumphed and is now a power-
ful influence in purifying and elevating life in Mexico. Its
first assailant was a priest in the year 1556 — twenty-five years
after the apparitions — so that the devotion passed through an
ordeal which must satisfy any fair mind outside the church,
while to all Americans within the church it should come with
the power of an exceptional instance of divine favor. '^ Non
fecit taliter omni nationi." Our readers, with this little book
in their hands, will be lifted to a realm from which they will
behold in a remarkable way the worthlessness of the world in
which we live. All it means, with its petty cares and criminal
ambitions, its periods of suffering and trial, will be not merely
made clear — for it is that already except to those who put out
.the eyes of the^^mind — but brought before us with that vivid
perception which is the sustaining motive for conduct.
Wayfaring Men^* by Edna Lyall. — Wayfaring Men is one
of the best stories we have come across for a long time. It is
mainly concerned with a company of actors who did their work
in the provinces under a manager, himself a great actor, who
possessed a stern and wholesome regard for the legitimate
drama. He is a man of high ideals, and his life was sadly
bound up with that of a successful actress who, in plain terms,
had thrown him over to make a fashionable marriage with a
• New York : LoDginaxis,^Greexi & Co.
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middle-aged baronet. This marriage was a failure from the first.
The baronet was a domestic tyrant, who abused his wife and
servants without any better reason than that supplied by the
temper of a costermonger. He did not strike his wife, but his
sarcasms and the looks of contempt which accompanied them
made him a greater blackguard than the brute who, in the
slums of London, is the typical wife-beater. She did not leave
him on account of this '^ cruelty/' though the author seems to
find fault with the view of the law which does not regard as
"cruelty" what is usually called incompatibility of temper,
though perhaps in this case, as all the suffering was on one side
and the infliction on the other, it might have been the keenest
cruelty to which a person of refinement could be subjected.
However, there was a way out of the difficulty. The baronet,
while on a visit at a relative's in the country, seduced the young
wife of one of the game-keepers, and was well thrashed by the
injured husband. What we think should have been done by
the author, to bring about certain adjustments to which the
novel seemed ever tending and failing to accomplish, was to
have made the game-keeper take an action of crim. con. against
the seducer of his wife. Instead of this, the baronet's wife files
a petition for divorce on the usual grounds, with the result
that she obtained a judicial separation, or what is technically
called a divorce a mensa et toro. The marred life of her old
flame remains in its hopelessness, and her own disappointed
life unrepaired ; they are full of tenderness for each other now,
the man in his constant love, she in her experience of its value,
to the end ; he, particularly, loyal to the law which would
make their marriage bigamous, she for a moment so broken by
defeat and loneliness and the oppressive consciousness of her
unprotected situation as to ask him to put away his reverence
for the blind fetich of the law. Yet there is nothing purpose-
lessly wrong in this, not the slightest suggestion of sinfulness ;
it is only a great moral mistake, beginning with the idea that
our Lord tolerated divorce for adultery, necessarily leading to
the effacement of the Christian view of marriage and to the
rupture of family life.
This, however, is only a current running within the broad
flood of the story ; the adventures of a young actor and the
companion of his childhood, whom he marries, are the subject,
and in every respect, direct and incidental, full of life and in-
terest. For instance, the young actor in question and the girl
are both wards of a man of title — we do not know whether he
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is a knight or baronet, but he is a promoter of companies on
a gigantic scale — and came to know each other as children in
his house. The young lady is an heiress ; and her guardian —
a great philanthropist, by the way — is also trustee of her for-
tune. Of course he speculates with and loses it. The father
of the other ward had been the life-long friend of the guardian ;
he advises his friend to trust his money in one of the specula-
tions he promoted. This, of course, turns out disastrously, and
the friend is ruined and dies broken-hearted.
But though realizing the treachery of his friend, the great
promoter, the dying victim of the fraud entrusts the care of
the boy's future to this hypocrite. The latter will in this way
have an opportunity to make some atonement for the ruin
brought upon the father, or it may be there is a spell in old
friendship which accounts for it. But examined critically it
seems sketchy, ill-digested, and improbable ; yet there is such an
admirable power in the interrelations of events and such a
reality in the interactions of character, that both combined
capture the reader with the force of life and truth to nature.
The sketchiness is filled up by bitterness, selfishness, and pas-
sion, while the seemingly improbable is by the strength of cir-
cumstances lifted to the actual. . We have not seen anything
more vigorous for some time ; and the only censure we can
pronounce is that there is carelessness of execution.
There is a good deal of pleasant life in the book — ^a charm-
ing Irish family, a charming French one. The discrimination
of character is good, and in saying this we mean high praise ;
for very few, except men of the highest genius or men pos-
sessed of that power of taking pains which has so suggestively
been called genius, could handle such a number of characters
without confusing the outlines. Our meaning may be better
understood when we say that Lord Beaconsfield's characters
are only distinguishable by their names ; this is to some extent
true of Bulwer-Lytton, careful as he was, and we venture to
say in that vast catalogue of male and female names which
might be filled from the novels of Thackeray the distinguish-
able characters might be counted on the fingers of one hand —
Lord Steyne, Becky Sharpe, and perhaps Major Pendennis, in
one group of books, the younger brother in the Virginians
perhaps, and perhaps Dr. Philip's father in the Adventures of
Philip. They are all sketches and caricatures, made very
pleasant by Thackeray's gossiping, self-possessed way of button-
holing the reader, but not possessing a particle of life. For
VOL. Lxvi. — 54
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a moment we get a sharp fact like Sir Hector O'Dowd's eat-
ing his luncheon seated on the carcass of his dead charger with
all the coolness of Major Dalgetty, and think we have a real
man, but we have only a telling incident. Now, Dalgetty is a
man every inch of him, not one bit of him a sketch.
We are glad to add Passion Flowers'^ to our small collec-
tion of really helpful devotional verse. We look forward to
the author's promised volume — Marice Corolla. We are not
anxious for him to publish Poems of Affection and Friendship,
for we cannot believe that the beauty of his " Passion- colored '*
poems could be reproduced in any more secular book by Father
Edmund. These are a part of his spiritual life as Passionist and
client of the Heart of Mary — as he says himself, "the beauties
of our holy Faith set forth in poetic raiment." More than that,
they are, as their title indicates, a weaving together of those
special phases of beauty by virtue of whose personal appeal to
him he is a Passionist and not a Jesuit or a Paulist or a Marist.
Our disinclination that he should change his theme is not to be
construed as scepticism of the versatility of his powers, but
rather as the expression of a strong conviction that Passion
Flowers is so thoroughly a part of the author's true self that a
volume of different character will be more or less artificial. His
mastery of form is so perfect that one is not even diverted from
the thought of his verse by its music, as often happens. Indeed,
only in a few cases do we stop to notice that the phrases and
epithets which so precisely voice the soul are " original " — as
in " Sweet Wounds, then home me ! " and the exquisite yet
strong lines in " Professed " :
"*Christo confixus cruci * — nail for nail:
By three strong vows death-wedded to my Lord.
And by the fourth — of faithful, tender wail,
Transfixus too with Mary's very sword."
Even were his soul-history less well known, we think one
would almost recognize the rapture with which the convert
alone seems to rest in those tenets which make the Church
the one refuge for the sorrowing, as he sings :
" O that faith ! How fair is sorrow, Passion-colored by its light !
Beauteous as the dawn of Easter when it broke thy vigil's night.
And how merit-strong affliction^ wedded to thy dying Son !
Every pang a plea availifigj ez^ery zvoe a triumph won,*'
* Passion Flowers. By Father Edmund of the Heart of Mary, C.P. (Benjamin D. Hill).
New York : Benziger Brothers.
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Notes on the Baptistery, by Father Prendergast, S.J., is a
most deceptive little volume. We took it up expecting to find
certain items of information, artistic and archaeological, of more
or less interest according as one was or was not concerned in
the progress of ecclesiastical architecture in America. We laid
it down wondering how best to promote its circulation as a
meditation book, likely to be especially helpful to converts and
inquirers. The whole Baptistery Chapel of the new Church of
St. Ignatius Loyola is one exquisite sermon in symbol ; and in
this guide-book these symbols are expanded, one by one, with
" a little theology, controversy, commentary, criticism, art, even
preachment (alas !), all jostling each other unconventionally."
From the pavement sea, breaking in mosaic ripples at the
foot of the altar, to the medallions above — St. John the Baptist
crowned in glory, with the Ruler and the Lover Apostles on
either hand — the reader is led by ways of color and form over
nearly every fundamental point of Christian dogma, with a
tender art born only of intense love for souls. One turns the
pages with a^ yearning for a long day to pray in that chapel,
rather than with great curiosity to study its wonders of mosaic
and Favrile glass.
The sections on the Christian Sacraments, the Priesthood,
Invocation, Purgatory and Heaven are the best we have yet
found to place before inquirers of the class whose number is
happily all the time increasing in this country. Many incipient
converts care little for historical and theological proofs of the
divine authority of the church, but fighting their way by the
sole grace of prayer to a certain knowledge of and union with
God, see dimly that far greater possrbilities are pictured in the
lives and works of Catholic saints. Such are often, as they
draw nearer, repelled by what they call our "stress on exter-
nals" and by fear lest '* the material" crowds out "the
spiritual" in every-day Catholic life. They miss, in the ordinary
hand-books given them, the fervor, the heat of expression to
which they are accustomed in their own manuals. They fear
spiritual frost. Father Prendergast has, in his Notes, put the
warmth and color and life which make their power over
Catholic hearts into dogmas whose dry bones are too gener-
ally presented to catechumens.
The Sketch of the Madura Mission,* just issued by one
of the Jesuit Fathers in charge of the mission, was writ-
» India : A Sketch of the Madura Mission. H. Whitehead, S.J, New York : Benzi-
ger Brothers.
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8s2 Talk about New Books. [Mar.,
ten, we are told in the preface, in the hope of securing
both men and money for the work in India. It ought to at-
tain its object. Indian daily life and thought are sketched in
a rapid, popular style ; while the reasons for the admitted failure
of Protestant missions in this part of the country stand out
so obviously therefrom that the most bigoted reader — if bigoted
folk ever read straightforward statements of the opposing
party — can find nothing harsh in Father Whitehead's terse pre-
sentation of the facts. The accounts of every-day 'missionary
work are fascinating. Toil and hardship and loneliness must
be steadily recompensed by the delightful thoroughness with
which the Swdmy is able to regulate the conduct of his flock,
who regard him as arbiter in all matters, temporal as well as
spiritual. We recommend especially the carefully detailed ac-
count given of a native Christian marriage, as showing the
wonderful skill with which the Fathers of the Society of Jesus
have managed to retain and supernaturalize every dear and
innocent custom of the people whom they are sent not to
Westernize but to Christianize, and how worthily they have main-
tained the spirit of Fathers Nobili and Da Costa, who, in 1606,
took on themselves the burden of Brahmin and Pariah souls
respectively and lived each — in all matters not idolatrous —
after the strictest rule of his chosen caste.
Miss Nixon's new book of travels is entitled With a Pessi-
mist in Spain.* The Pessimist certainly journeyed with an
Impressionist, for the author's account of sights and incidents
is exceedingly sketchy even in these days of hurried journeys
and more hurried chroniclings. Happily the dozen half-tone
illustrations, unlike the letter*press, are clear and highly finished.
The style of the book is pleasant and conversational, and it
will be of use and interest to people who have been in the
towns it portrays or who are about to visit them — who are,
after all, the only people who ever read works of travel !
We rejoice that Dr. Allen's little book. Our Own 1Vi//,f
has reached its fourth edition, for this means that although
primarily written for religious, it has had wide circulation
among people struggling after perfection in the world, who
have much more need of it. The constant monitions of
novitiate and • chapter are not paralleled for them by the
* Wit A a Pessimist in Spain, By Mary F. Nixon. Chicago : A. C. McClurg & Co.
t Our Own Will and How to detect it in Our Actions, By Rev. J. Allen, D.D., Chaplain
of the Dominican Convents in King Williamstown and East London, South Africa. New
York : Benziger Brothers.
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care of the most watchful director, while it seems practically
impossible for the best-intentioned to detect the ramifications
of self-will through our best actions, without the external aid
of a monitor or a book. Probably were any friend so plain-
spoken as this little book, we should give him but one op-
portunity to be of use to us ; whereas even if the book were
thrown across the room, it must be picked up again to
confront us ! Social life will be happier as well as better for
those of us who absorb the spirit of the chapter on '* Our Own
Will Disquieted by Suspicions,** and accept the fact that "self-
will and a strong inclination to suspicions and unjust judg-
ments must always go together." There is something delicious-
ly naive about Dr. Allen's simplicity of statement — as when
he says that "if our pet idea is opposed, we experience a dis-
agreeable sensation, something similar to the act of reason by
which we renounce sin." Hence, by the law of association,
whatever is opposed to our own wishes suggests itself to us as
probably sinful!
His book is not one of those distressing manuals which
only diagnose a disease, indicate the remedy in general terms,
and leave us questioning as to how it can possibly be applied
— whether externally or internally, as draught, poultice, or
plaster. For example, after explaining that depression is a
mode of self-will, he says : " This is a fine opportunity for us
to show that we have really no care for anything but the ac-
complishment of the will of God. We must conquer the de-
pression as far as possible, and then fully convince ourselves
that if the worst thing we dread were really to happen, we
should have grace and strength to support it."
I.— MEMOIR OF GENERAL THOMAS KILBY SMITH.*
Walter George Smith has given the public an interesting
narrative of his father's military career in the Western cam-
paigns of the War of the Rebellion. As a contribution to our
war records the book is valuable, and some parts are of ab-
sorbing interest to the general reader. It often happens that
a soldier's words as well adorn his manhood as his deeds, and
tliis is true of the late General Kilby Smith. Many of his
letters graphically describe scenes which can never be described
too often, scenes in which he bore an active part, sometimes
an heroic one. The author has added to the memoir and
* Life and Letters of Thomas Kilby Smithy Brevet Major-General ^ U. S. Volunteers^
New York : G. P. Putnam's Sons.
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letters a character sketch of the general by his son, Theodore
D. Smith, a member of the Order of Passionists, whose death
a few years ago in South America was so sincerely mourned
by all who knew him — a touching tribute to a noble father by
a saintly son.
2. — SAINT ANTHONY.*
The lives of the saints are messages from God— reiterations
of his affectionate will to children whom he has instructed in
other ways. They have been neglected if they are not retold
by every good story-teller. They challenge the highest art
and reward the humblest. With each new telling they are
new, a perennial benediction to him who gives and to him who
receives. The Wonder-Worker of Padua^ by Charles Warren
Stoddarxl, aside from its intrinsic excellence, deserves praise
because it is an example of what every gifted writer ought to
do, for the love of God and his fellow-men.
Mr. Stoddard's work is simple, ingenuous, and artistic at
once. It emphasizes the human charm of the saint ; it makes
the supernatural credible because beautiful ; it links past acts
with modern needs, and this is the true fascination and profit
of history. It is good to know St. Anthony more vividly and
to love him more sincerely, as those who read the book will
thank Mr. Stoddard for helping them to do ; but in the face
of present demands it is almost a deeper gratification to see
the right thing in literature done so well. For special admir-
ers of Mr. Stoddard's writing — among whom Stevenson and
Howells and Holmes have inscribed themselves — this newest
book contains characteristic treasures. For example :
" From the windows I saw the lofty walls of II Santo — the
Basilica of San Antonio — towering against the sunset. There
i«r nothing finer than the proportions of this wondrous struc-
ture. A hundred gables toss like a broken sea; clusters of
delicate spires spring into space like frozen fountains, and over
all rise seven splendid domes that seem to be floating in mid-
air. One almost fears that the whole will melt away in the
twilight and leave only the spot that it once glorified — like an
Arabian tale that is told. Surely its creation was magical.
Some genie, sporting with the elements, made marble soluble;
and, dreaming of the fabulous East, he blew this pyramid of
gigantic bubbles and had not the heart to let them break and
vanish. Or is it but another miracle of the beloved saint?"
■ * The Wonder- fVorker of Padua. By Charles Warren Stoddard. Notre Dame, Indiana:
The Ave Maria.
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THEREjis,fperchance, no stronger evidence of
the decay of organized Protestantism than the
figures of the Methodist Year Book for i8g8. We
have always been of the opinion that the Methodist body had
a firmer grip on its people than any other Protestant denomina-
tion, but the Methodist Year Book for i8g8 shows that the net
gain of communicants for 1897 was only 19,738, as against an
average net increase each year for the last decade of 76,270.
The net gain in communicants in 1894 was 157,586.
The Presbyterian Church is again on the verge of a heresy
trial, and the heresy-hunters of the New York Presbytery will
not rest, presumably, until they bring Dr. McGiffert to book.
The learned doctor has his face turned toward Unitarianism
and is joining the band of the rationalists who are washing the
supernatural out of Christianity.
The Catholic Missionary Union, in a special meeting held
February 12, placed another missionary in the home mission
field, whose energies will be employed in the field of North
Carolina.
The great non-Catholic mission just closed at the Paulist
Church in New York has doubled the score of former years in
its list of converts. Ninety-one persons were registered in the
Inquiry Class at the close of the mission.
This mission had been preceded by a four weeks' mission
to the Catholics, and the splendid results of the non-Catholic
mission prove again that the Catholic mission should always be
the herald of the non-Catholic one.
Among other notable articles published in this number we
draw special attention to the masterly article, entitled
•'America as seen from Abroad," by Archbishop Keane.
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8s6 Living Catholic Men of Science. [Mar.^
LIVING CATHOLIC MEN OF SCIENCE.
Charles Anthony Goessmann, Ph.D., LL.D., son of
Henry Goessmann, M.D., was born in Naumburg, Hessen
Cassel, Germany, on June 13, 1827. He received his education
at the Latin School in Fritzlar and the University of Gottingen.
He entered the university in 1850, where he studied chemistry
under Wohler, physics under Weber, botany under Bartling,
mineralogy and technology under Hausmann, and geology
under Walterhausen. In 1853 he graduated, receiving the
degree of Ph.D. From 1852 to 1857 he occupied the position
as assistant in the Royal Chemical University Laboratory under
the direction of his distinguished teacher, Father Wohler. In
1855 he was appointed Privat-Docent in the philosophical
faculty of the university, with the permission to lecture in
chemistry and pharmacy. At the close of 1856 he secured, by
request, a three years* leave of absence from the government
for the purpose of studying the chemical industries of France,
England, and the United States. In 1857 he accepted the
position of chemist, and subsequently that of manager, of a
sugar refinery in Philadelphia. At the close of this engagement,
in i860, he visited the Island of Cuba to study the agricultural
industries of the West Indies.
Soon after his return to New York City, in 1861, he accepted
the position as chemist to the Onondaga Salt Co. of Syracuse,
N. Y., to investigate contemplated improvements in the manu-
facture of salt. He closed this engagement in December, 1868,
to accept the professorship of chemistry at the Massachusetts
Agricultural College in Amherst. During his residence in
Syracuse, N. Y., he filled the position of professor of chemistry
in the Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute at Troy, N. Y., for two
years, and studied the salt resources of Canada, Michigan,
Ohio, and Louisiana, visiting these localities for that purpose.
Since 1869 he has filled the position of professor of chemis.
try in the Massachusetts Agricultural College at Amherst. In
1873 he was elected chemist to the Massachusetts State Board
of Agriculture and also State inspector of commercial fertiliz-
ers, and subsequently an analyst to the State Board of Health ;
positions which he still holds. He declined, in 1880, an election
to the directorship of the North Carolina State Agricultural
Experiment Station at Chapel Hill, but in 1882 was appointed
director of the Massachusetts State Agricultural Experiment
Digitized by
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1898.] Living Catholic Men of Science. 857
Station, an office he filled during the entire existence of that
institution, for twelve years.
The results of his scientific investigations are published in a
series of articles in German and American periodicals and official
public documents. His earlier publications treat of some new
Charles Anthony Goessmann, Ph.D., LL.D.
organic acids, discovered by him, and of a new mode of produc-
ing organic alkaloids and amido-compounds. His later contribu-
tions to chemical literature treat mainly of investigations in
various branches of chemical industry, and of the uses of
chemistry in agriculture. Prominent among the latter are his
observations regarding the cultivation of sugar-cane upon the
Island of Cuba and in the State of Louisiana, and of the
sorghum and sugar-beet as sugar-producing plants for home
consumption ; the chemistry of brines and the character of the
salt resources of the United States and Canada, with the in-
Digitized by
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8s8 Living Catholic Men of Science. [Mar.,
fluence of special systems of feeding plants to improve their
composition for industrial purposes. Dr. Goessmann has re-
ceived many honorary appointments: those of member of the
Physico-Medico Society of the University of Erlangen, Bavaria ;
of honorary LL.D. of Amherst College, fellow of the Ameri-
can Association for the Advancement of Science, president of
the American Chemical Society, chairman of the American
Association of Official Chemists, and foreign member of the com-
mittee of judges during the Universal Exhibit of Rural Econ-
omy and Forestry at Vienna, Austria, in 1880, etc.
During his residence at Syracuse, N. Y., he married Miss
M. A. Kinny, pf that city, and enjoys a family of five children,
three being daughters and two sons. Miss Helena Goessmann
is well known as a lecturer who is growing in popularity.
Dr. William Seton, LL.D., would probably prefer to be
classified as a devoted student of natural history rather than
as a man of science, such is his reverence for the pursuit of
natural science, to which he says he " did not take seriously
and wholly till twelve years ago." But his name is rapidly be-
coming well known in Catholic circles as that of one who is
doing much to " popularize *' the discoveries of natural science
in the sense of putting them into clear and interesting English,
free from ultra-technicality ; and that ability proves always
that its possessor has a firm and comprehensive grasp of his
subject which passes the knowledge of the amateur.
Dr. Seton's father was Captain William Seton, of the United
States Navy. He began his education at St. John's College,
Fordham, afterward passing to Mount St. Mary's, Emmitsburg,
Md. When he left the '* Mountain," it was to study at the
University of Bonn. Returning to New York, he entered the
law-office of Thomas James Glover and passed his examination
for the bar just before the breaking out of the Civil War.
That checked his individual career for a time, as it did that of
so many other gallant young men, for he volunteered, and be-
came successively sergeant, lieutenant, and captain in the Forty-
first New York Volunteers, French's Division, Sumner's Corps.
After the war he returned to his legal work, but also wrote
several works of fiction — Romance of the Charter Oaky Pride of
Lexington, RacheFs Fate,
Very soon after returning to his civilian life, he was mar-
ried to Miss Sarah Redwood Parrish, of Philadelphia. Mrs.
Seton belongs to the class of converts of whom an archbishop
of great experience has said that they make " the very best
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1898.] Living Catholic Men of Science. 859
kind of Catholic," being a convert from the Society of Friends.
About twelve years ago Dr. Seton went abroad to give
himself up seriously to the studies which had always fascinated
him. He studied palaeontology under Professor Albert Gandry
at the Jardin des Plantes, Paris, and psychology and hypnotism
under Charcot. P^re Leroy, whose writings on evolution have
William Seton, LL.D.
made him famous, and Professor De Lapparent are intimately
known to him, and he passes the greater part of each year in
Paris for the better pursuit of his studies. Dr. Seton*s life
thus far affords a striking example of the powerful influence of
a mental attraction in overcoming opposing educational environ-
ment. Certainly the law-school and the battle-field were not
promising centres of influence whence to mould the mind of an
ardent student of science. He has lately published a scien-
tific work entitled A Glimpse of Organic Life^ Past and Present,
We hope that he may still have many fruitful years of toil and
investigation before him.
Digitized by VjOOQLC
86o The Columbian Reading Union. [Mar.,
THE COLUMBIAN READING UNION.
A S a means of promoting Catholic sociability the Midland Review, of Louis-
j[\ ville, Ky., edited by Charles J. O'Malley, urges the formation of more
Reading Circles. This proposal is approved by the Catholic Columbian because
of the evident need of greater sociability among Catholics of average intellect,
and those who think they belong to a class somewhat higher. It is stated that if
there were more opportunities for social enjoyment there would ht fewer mixed
marriages and a tenderer humanity in every way. The charge is also made that
in some parts of the country Catholic women neglect those who come into the
church from other forms of belief. Of all people the convert should get a warm
welcome and an intellectual atmosphere in the household of the true church.
Reading Circles would prove a mighty help under such circumstances, besides
providing many useful topics for conversation. Thus far the members of Read-
ing Circles have sought chiefly for means of self-improvement, to which may be
joined various practical plans of missionary work among the rapidly increasing
number of converts in the United States.
* * *
The Borough of Manhattan in New York City can point to a new centre of
culture lately organized under the title of the Ch&teaubriand Reading Circle of
St. Stephen's Church. It meets alternate Tuesdays at the Young Men's society
club-house, 140 East Twenty-ninth Street. The Circle has about twenty mem-
bers, and the officers arc : Rev. J. P. Donohue, moderator ; Miss M. M. Grady,
president; Miss M. J. Treacy, vice-president; Miss C. O'Beime, secretary; Miss
M. Lavelle, treasurer. A course of study of the Elizabethan Era in literature
was commenced in January. At that meeting the drama was discussed. At the
following meeting the study was on the Influence of Protestantism on Literature.
Reference was made to Sir Philip Sidney, his life and early training, and the
nature of his works. Arrangements are made for a study of Edmund Spenser.
His personal history and the names of the best among his works will be men-
tioned. A course of church history was begun which will continue until June,
and embraces church history from the Early Persecutions of the Church to Nes-
torianism. The Persecution of Diocletian, the Heresies of the Apostolic Age,
and the Gnostic and Manichaean Heresies were among the topics discussed.
* « *
Since the plan to make a large addition of modern literature to the library of
the Catholic Club of New York City was presented, at the October meeting, the
response has been generous. The number of books added is 259. Most of the
popular and best-known writers of the present day are represented in the collec-
tion — many of them by their complete works. Hon. William L. Strong has
donated to the library seven volumes of the Records of New Amsterdam. This
is a very valuable publication and of great interest to the student of our city and
our country's history, and is a most generous and agreeable expression of cour-
tesy and friendly feeling toward the club on the part of the ex-mayor.
Over the signature Ex-Attache an article has appeared in many of the daily
papers which contains the statement that Pope Leo XIII. has often pointed out
that' the Jews at Rome, from time immemorial, have enjoyed the special pro-
tection of the popes, who invariably stood between them and the populace when-
ever any attempt was made by the latter to seek the Ghetto. The mission of the
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1898.] The Columbian Reading Union. 861
Catholic Church is to defend the persecuted, and to protect the weak, and to
combat errors of faith, not by violence but by fraternal persuasion. How
thoroughly the utterances of the Pontiff are in keeping with the views of his pre-
decessors in the chair of St. Peter may be seen from the fact that the first mem-
ber of the Hebrew race who ever obtained a European title of nobility received
it at the hands of a pope. He took the name of Perleoni, and was ennobled in the
year 1 1 16. Before his death he filled the high office of prefect of Rome. One of
his sons, who had become converted to the Roman Catholic Church, ascended
the papal throne toward the middle of the twelfth century under the title of
Anacletus II., while a sister of this pontiff, named Alberia, married King Roger
of Sicily, to whom almost every one of the now reigning houses of Europe can
trace its ancestry.
From this it will be seen that anti-Semitism is without any logical basis,
since in some countries it is endorsed by the masses and opposed by the classes,
whereas in others it is favored by the classes and combated by the masses. In
some states it forms part and parcel of the conservative creed, and in others of
the liberal platform. Indeed, it may be described as an unscrupulous appeal to
the unreasoning passion of jealousy and discontent, caused by the sight of pros-
perity. Moreover, economically, it is all wrong. For th^ews, far from beggar-
ing the people among whom they live, diffuse and develop prosperity. Spain and
Portugal were two of the greatest powers in Europe until they made the fatal
mistake of expelling the Jews, a. blow to their prosperity and to their grandeur from
which they have never recovered. The terrible famine of a few years ago in
Russia was traceable to the policy of the late czar in driving his Jewish subjects
out of the country, thereby throwing the entire system of trade and industry into
disorder, while the two powers which display the greatest amount of liberality
toward the Hebrew race, conceding to its members identically the same rights
and privileges as ordinary citizens, are the United States and Great Britain, the
two most important commercially and most prosperous nations of the globe.
* ♦ *
Dr. Austin O'Malley, professor of English literature at Notre Dame Uni-
versity, Ind.. gave in a recent lecture some useful information gathered during
his travels in Italy. He stated that from the death of Dante, in 1321, only fifty-
two years passed when Florence instituted a chair of the Divina Commedia, and
Boccaccio was appointed professor. Since then the study has gone on, fluctuating
from enthusiastic devotion in epochs of great culture to distant respect in days
of ignorance, until in our own time Professor Ruskin has grown bold enough to
say that Dante is the central man of the world, as representing in perfect bal-
ance the imaginative, moral, and intellectual faculties all at their highest. This
praise is offered by many men and it would be no easy task to disprove what it
asserts. Shakspere and Homer are the only poets that we compare with him.
He fell short of Shakspere 's and Homer's sense of humor, a gift necessary as the
first requirement of self-knowledge, though Dante also gives grim, direct evi-
dence of a fitful sense of the incongruous, but his subject-matter concealed proof
of this faculty. That he possessed the power is established by the fact that he is
never absurd, for only an abiding sense of humor saves a man from the error of
absurdity.
The world has had no dramatist that equalled Shakspere, especially in the
crowning gift, characterization ; but Dante's imagination possessed his creation
like a vivifying soul, as thoroughly as do the imaginations of either Shakspere or
Homer. In absolute precision of intellect, which afterwards appeared as the
Digitized by
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862 The Columbian Reading Union. [Mar.,
poet's chief grace, he equalled either the English or the Greek. Carlyle com-
pares Dante with Shakspere. As Dante, the Italian, was sent into our world to
embody musically the religion of modern Europe, as shown by the inner life,
so Shakspere embodied for us the outer life of Europe— the chivalries, courtesies,
the practical way of thinking, acting, looking at the world, men then had. Dante
has given us the faith or soul ; Shakspere in a not less noble way has given us the
practice or body.
Perhaps it would be more exact to say that Dante is an embodiment of the
Middle Ages of Europe. All modern art was in Dante as its source. He divided
the old classical world from the modern romantic world. He it was that first
looked inward. He could sublime the type from the individual as well as did the
Greeks, but he went under the surface as no Greek could go.
Dante is revered by the Thomists because he was one of them. He placed
St. Thomas Aquinas high in heaven. Indeed, the Summa of ThoYBas Aquinas
may be considered a foundation for th<* work of Dante. It is literally true, as
Hettinger says, that the entire system of Catholic theology could be gathered
from Dante's trilogy if all other works on theology were lost. In metaphysics
men must yet go back to Aristotle, and Thomas Aquinas was the greatest ex-
pounder of Aristotle. He gave to scholasticism precision of expression, and this
scholastic precision is one of the great characteristics of Dante. Dante was as
great a moralist as he was a poet. Indeed, to properly understand Dante, we
must understand his theology, and Dante's theology was the theology of the
church as expounded by such lights as Albertus Magnus, Thomas Aquinas, and
St. Bonaventure.
♦ ♦ ♦
From Catholic sources many words of praise have been given to the Eclectic
School Reading, published by the American Book Co., which is a collection of
original reading matter of the widest scope and of the finest literary quality — at
once interesting and highly instructive. The books are written by some of the
best known and most skilful writers for the young in America. They are care-
fully graded, and are so designed as to cover the chief departments of supplemen-
tary reading, such as famous tales and folk-lore, history and nature study. The
reading of such works is a preparation of the utmost value for an intelligent com-
prehension of higher literature and history later in the school course. The
books are profusely illustrated with reproductions of famous paintings and with
original drawings by the best American artists. The following are the titles of
the works thus far published in this series :
Mrs. C. A. Lane's Stories for Children. First Reader Grade. This con-
tains simple stories dealing with animals and familiar objects, a few fables from
yEsop, and bits of simple prose and verse from Bunyan, Stevenson, £milie
Poulsson, Coleridge, and others.
James Baldwin's Fairy Stories and Fables. Second Reader Grade. All the
best nursery tales and many of ^Esop's fables are here narrated in a simple ard
fascinating manner.
James Baldwin's Fifty Famous Stories Retold. Second Reader Grade. In
this collection are the most famous semi-historical tales of ancient and modern
times, such as those of Alexander and Bucephalus, Socrates and his House, Kirig
Alfred and the Cakes, Robin Hood, Wilhelm Tell, the Black Douglas, Dick
Whittington.
James Baldwin's Old Greek Stories. Third Reader Grade. These stories
are drawn wholly from Greek mythology, and are told in an exceptionally charm-
Digitized by
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1898.] The Columbian Reading Union. 863
ing way, simply as stories. Proper names are used sparingly and the pronuncia-
tion of each is fully indicated.
Defoe's Robinson Crusoe. Adapted for School Purposes by Miss Kate
Stephens. Fourth Reader Grade. In this edition of Defoe's famous classic
such judicious omissions are made as will adapt it for class-room reading. There
are excellent notes at the foot of the page giving all needed information.
Edward Eggleston's Stories of Great Americans for Little Americans.
Second Reader Grade. The subjects include not only great warriors and states-
men, but also scientists, inventors, explorers, and authors — representative Ameri-
cans of all sections and of all eras of the nation's development.
Edward Eggleston's Stories of American Life and Adventure. Third Read-
er Grade. Tales of Indian Life, frontier peril and escape, adventures with pirates
of Colonial times, daring Revolutionary feats, Whaling voyages and exploring
expeditions, are here narrated, with many valuable details relating to manners,
dress, and customs.
Guerber's Story of the Greeks. Fourth Reader Grade. This is an elemen-
tary history of Greece, from its legendary beginnings down to the time when it
became a Roman province. The events are told as far as possible in the form of
stories about historical characters, and the work is thus, through its biographical
form, rendered particularly attractive to children.
Guerber's Story of the Romans. Fourth Reader Grade. The history of
Rome from its foundation to the fall of the Western Empire is here told, largely
in biographical form, and in a style full of charm and interest.
Mrs. M. A. B. Kelly's Stories of Our Shy Neighbors. Third Reader Grade.
By means of stories about imaginary walks afield and in the garden a great
amount of very interesting and valuable information is conveyed concerning com-
mon facts in nature, and the child makes intimate acquaintance, in a friendly
way, with the common insects, birds, domestic fowls, and a few wild animals.
Mrs. William Starr Dana's Plants and Their Children. Illustrated by Alice
Josephine Smith. Fourth Reader Grade. This is a series of lessons on the
wonders of plant life, written in so charming a manner as to make them as enter-
taining as stories.
« * «
Miss Louise Imogen Guiney's recent volume, entitled PatrinSt published by
Copeland & Day, has won many favorable opinions. The word Patrin is ex-
plained as a gypsy trail, a handful of leaves or grass thrown on the road for the
guidance of the friends who are following. One of the critics has declared that
in these " little leisurely adventures in prolonged fair weather " Miss Guiney
proves to be a very pleasant guide. She wanders into by-paths and quiet places,
away from the noise and dust of the high-road, chatting cheerily of many things,
from pictures to Newfoundland puppies, peppering her discourse with innumer-
able quotations^from quaint and curious sources, and exhibiting a knowledge of
many almost forgotten authors that soon shows the reader that the Boston " Ro-
manys " are an erudite and by no means ordinary tribe of strollers. '* An Inquir-
endo into the Wit and Other Good Parts of His Late Majesty King Charles the
Second " is the title of the longest of these papers, but perhaps the pleasantest
is that which she calls " Reminiscences of a Fine Gentleman," in which she tells
effectively a simple tale and at the same time has some fun with the reader.
* ♦ ♦
No Reading Circle should neglect to provide for the study of the Life Story
of Brother Azarias, by the Rev. John Talbot Smith, LL.D., published by William
Digitized by
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864 New Books. [Mar., 1898.
H. Young Co., 31 Barclay Street, New York City. For Catholics it should be a
matter of pride to make themselves better acquainted with one of the ablest de-
fenders of their convictions, who represents them to the world at large as a type
of their highest culture, and a brilliant exponent of their educational system.
Students of American life and educators of all denominations will find much to
admire in the biography of the man who was the first to expose the blunders of
Compayre in dealing with the history of education ; who gave Emerson a just
allowance of praise without exaggeration, and endeavored to banish bigotry and
sectionalism from the tribunal of literary criticism.
M. C. M.
NEW BOOKS.
Benziger Brothers, New York:
For a King! By T. S. Sharswood. Retreat Conferences for Convents. By
Rev. Charles Cox, Oblate of 'Mary Immaculate. India : A Sketch of the
Madura Mission. By H. Whitehead, S.J. Life of Dom Bosco. Trans-
lated from the French of J. M. Villefranche, by Lady Martin. Imita-
tion of the Most Blessed Virgin : On the Model of the Imitation of Christ.
Translated from the French by Mrs. Bennet-Gladstone. The Catholic
Father : A Manual of Instruction and Devotion for Catholic Fathers in
Modern Times. By Right Rev. Augustme Eggcr, D.D.
Catholic Art and Book Co., San Francisco :
Quotations: Catholic ^ Patriotic ^ Miscellaneous. For the use of Catholic
Schools.
G. P. Putnam's Sons, New York:
Life and Letters of Thomas Kilby Smith, Brevet Major-General of United
States Volunteers, 18SO-18S7. By his son, Walter George Smith.
Editor Publishing Co., Cincinnati :
Idle Songs and Idle Sonnets. By Harrison Conrard.
The Author, Springdalc. Conn.:
The ChordsofLife. By Charles H. Crandall.
Longmans, Green & Co., London and New York :
A Childs History of Ireland. By P. W. Joyce, LL.D. A Vindication of
the Bull " ApostoliccB Curce ": A Letter on Anglican Orders. By the
Cardinal Archbishop and Bishops of the Province of Westminster.
The Ave Maria, Notre Dame, Ind.:
Fairy Gold. By Christian Reid.
Catholic Truth Society, London (Catholic Book Exchange, 120 West
60th Street, N.Y.):
The Divine Jiedeemer in His Church. By Rev. Edward Douglas, C.SS.R.
Preface by the Cardinal Archbishop of Westminster. The Holy Gospel
according to St. Luke. With Introduction and Notes by Right Rev. Mon-
signor Ward. Carmen's Secret. By Baroness Pauline von Hiigel. Under
the Red Kin^ : A Tale of the Times of St. Anseim. By C. M. Home. A
Bible Picture Book for Catholic Children. By Lady Amabel Kerr. Way-
side Tales, Third series, paper. By Lady Herbert. Deacon Doug-
las, or Talks with Nonconformists. By Rev. G. Bampfield. Catholics
and Nonconformists. IL By the Bishop of Clifton. Con fessio Viator is.
By C. Kegan Paul. Pilgrimages — St. Francis of Assisi (Magic Lantern
Lecture).
Macmillan Book Co., New York:
A New Astronomy. By David P. Todd, M.A., Ph.D.
George Rice & Sons, Los Angeles, Cal.:
National and Municipal Questions. O. A. Myers.
John Murphy & Co., Baltimore and New York :
The Little Office of the Blessed Virgin Mary, according to the Roman Bre-
viary.
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Address The New .York Musical Echo Co.,
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Best Prayer-Book for fntelliscnt LaityiOgle
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THE BORROWER WILL BE CHARGED
AN OVERDUE FEE IF THIS BOOK IS NOT
RETIJRNED TO THE LIBRARY ON OR
BEFORE THE LAST DATE STAMPED
BELOW. NON-RECEIPT OF OVERDUE
NOTICES DOES NOT EXEMPT THE
BORROWER FROM OVERDUE FEES.
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